Date: Mon, 8 Feb 2010 14:26:28 -0800 (PST)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Peter's Story 1

I hope you all enjoy this new story.  It's a sequel to Connections, but
also exists as an independent story on it's own.  Your comments are always
welcome, and I have a mailing list in case you'd like to be notified of the
next chapter.  Thanks for joining me!



Already there were more than a dozen guys kicking around balls in the
playfield near the dorms, everyone anxious to get the morning match
started.  There wasn't a better field in the central campus for pick-up
games, which were important for selecting real teams for the intramural
league.  Word-of-mouth and the ubiquitous bulletin board postings made sure
that even new students couldn't help but be aware.

Peter Kovar and his friend Jeremy were off to one side of the crowd, doing
their own warm-up, bouncing the ball off of their heel or knee or head,
back and forth to each other.  While few of the players were varsity
material, by choice or otherwise, they were all dedicated amateurs who were
the backbone of the student leagues.

Peter and Jeremy were amongst the most gifted of these players and each
could have maybe had a shot at the varsity squad, especially Jeremy. But
they were both very happy to be what some called the `opt-outs.'  These
were the high school stars who had just decided to mellow out in college,
who were actually glad to out of the athletic rat race and just wanted
enjoy the game.

"This looks like a pretty green group, Peter.  Any of these guys your
type?"  Jeremy asked quietly, with a sly smile.


"What?"  Peter asked, not quite hearing the question.

Jeremy looked straight at Peter, his smile intact, and clearly enunciating
the question again but still not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

"hmmm...not really.  A couple are kind of cute, but no one really striking,
I guess," he answered, in a slightly distracted way.

Peter was a strikingly good looking guy, with his strong, sharp features, a
big mop of brown hair and an ear-to-ear smile.  But in spite of his good
looks and easy manner, he didn't do much on the dating scene.  Even his
straight friends like Jeremy couldn't figure it out, but felt it their
collegial duty to encourage him as much as they could.

 "What about that guy in the blue shirt over there, I noticed you checking
him out." Jeremy teased, subtly gesturing his head toward a blond haired
guy who was practically doing acrobatics with the ball.

"I was not checking him out! " he quickly answered, not denying that he
actually noticed him but disputing his presumed intentions.  "I was just
watching him play with the ball, he's pretty good and real focused. Seems
pretty serious...," he stopped as he caught himself getting into maybe more
detail than he wanted to.  "But I can control myself with guys, unlike you
with the women."

"Bravely spoken, sir!"  Jeremy teased.  "We'll see what the body contact
does for you.  Of course, being straight, I'm invulnerable to his charms.
But you?" he teased.

"I'm fine, Jer," he responded.  "Like I said, he just seems to have some
pretty good skills, and I like that, whether he's straight or gay.
Besides, you guys make fun of me for what a stick-in-the-mud I am in the
dating scene, so what could happen anyway?" he said, refocusing himself
onto a high-flying kick from Jeremy.

"Hey, watch this!" he called out.

Peter then headed it squarely back to Jeremy as they continued playing
between themselves, trying to keep the ball in the air as long as possible.
"Well, if you'd like to know, he was in my intro to Art History class last
year," Jeremy said, returning the ball again.  "I don't know him real well,
definitely didn't seem like a small talk kind of guy, but he was really
into the class and pretty smart.  I did a study group at his place last
year, I think he lived way over on the other side of campus from us."

Returning another pass to Peter, this one from his left foot, he continued.
"Would you like me to introduce you?  I mean, I don't really know him well,
there were like a dozen people at the section, so I didn't spend much time
with him.  But I'd be glad to be the icebreaker" He said with another big
grin and a wink.

"Again, I'm perfectly fine, thank you!"  Peter retorted as he kicked the
ball into Jeremy's stomach, getting a feigned looked of agony on Jeremy's
face as the ball bounced off his hard stomach.

Even though most of the guys had played before, it was obvious that there
was a mix of different skill levels. The main reason that most of them were
there was just to have fun, which was what the dorm flyers proudly
proclaimed

But there were a few diehards looking for World Cup intensity, if not
quality.  These Premier League wannabes also saw it as a sidebar
opportunity to make it an initiation event for the newbies, maybe even get
a few laughs out of humiliating some unsuspecting freshman.

"Hey guys," the self-proclaimed captain of the diehards called out. "My
name's Kevin and I'm ready to kick some butt! You all ready to play?"  His
buddies gave a raucous second to the motion, high-fiving each other and
chanting "Yes! Yes! Yes!" in unison.

After the yelling died down a few moments later, Kevin spoke up again.
"Well, if no one has any objections, we can pick teams.  I just need an
opposing captain.  We'll just go through the available meat, one by one,
from studs to puds!" he said, waving his hands toward the crowd of players,
"and we'll pick."

Peter didn't like the sound of this guy.  This method of picking sides
invariably embarrassed and humiliated the last guys picked.  In some
situations he didn't mind, as long as everyone was in good spirits and took
it in fun.  But a lot of these guys were obviously new to the school, which
wouldn't look like a very welcoming or inclusive gesture.

He was just about to speak up and propose what he thought would be a fairer
system. In fact, could feel that he had just drawn his breath when he heard
someone else object first.

"Hey, this isn't right," a voice called out, confident but not excited, the
opposite of Kevin's provocative taunts.  Peter, like everyone else, looked
around to see the speaker.  It was the guy in the blue shirt.

"A lot us are just here to have fun," he continued.  "This isn't a league
game or anything like that, it's just a good time.  We should just do it
randomly, like draw straws or pick a number or something like that.  I just
think that captains picking the teams are not the right way to do this."

Peter thought to himself, `that was almost exactly what I was going to
say.'

"We just want it to be competitive, that's all," Kevin replied, in his own
unique abrasive way, smiling cynically broadly as he spoke.  "In fact I
thought you'd be an early round pick, dude, you look like you've got some
great footskills."

But the compliment was just ignored.  "Everyone needs to belong on a team
as much as anyone else, so I vote for random numbers rather than captains
picking," he said, forcing the issue.  "What does everyone else think?"

"Random!"  Peter spoke up.  "That's the best way to do it.  It will be
fairer and more fun for everyone."

"Oh man, dude," Kevin said, the slimy smile returning. "you would have been
an early pick, too!" he said to Peter.

"What about you other guys?  What do you all want to do?  Peter asked the
group.

He heard a few "random' or `pick numbers,' but they were drowned out by the
noisy clamoring of Kevin's friends.  Without talking to each other, both of
the objectors seemed to realize that it wasn't worth making a big fuss
over.

The original protester then spoke up again.  "OK, since only a couple of us
seem to care, lets do it your way.  Since you want to be a captain, who's
going to chose the other team.?"

"Why not you?"  Kevin said.  "You look like you're pretty good at this,
that will keep things even," he said with a snicker as one of his buddies
patted him on the shoulder.

"Would anyone else rather pick?  I'm OK if someone else wants to do it,"
the guy asked.

 "Why don't you two be co-captains," one of Kevin said, pointing to him and
Peter. "Then you could share the pain!"  he said, getting a rousing laugh
from his surrounding posse.

They didn't even know each other names, but the blue shirt guy looked over
at Peter and nodded his head, pretty sure that he had a comrade in arms for
taking these guys on.  "You up for it?" he called out.

"I'm with ya, dude" Peter quickly answered, as they both moved through the
crowd toward each other.  Besides his blond hair and striking blue eyes,
Peter thought that most people would consider his round face rather plain
and simple, but the intensity in the eyes and the confidence and power in
his voice gave it another meaning for him. This guy had athletic gifts,
which Peter noticed earlier, but there was something about his presence
that he found much more memorable.

"Hi, I'm Marty Landis, glad to meet you."  He gave a very quick, slight
smile, which surprised Peter.  From a guy who seemed to project an image of
total seriousness it was the first relaxed expression that he'd seen out of
him.

He noticed that the grip was very firm, which was a `Gold Star' in Peter's
book.  He was no stickler about protocol, but one pet-peeve he did have was
getting a cold fish handshake.

"Peter Kovar, glad to meet you, too. I guess we'd better get this going,
huh?"

"Yea, or things might get a little out of hand here," Marty replied in a
joking kind of way, giving up another slight smile before the return of his
more typical countenance.

Working together, they quickly came up with a plan on how to select their
team, intentionally avoiding the guys who looked like the other captain's
friends.  Since Peter was already considered a first pick, Kevin selected
next and of course nabbed one of his cohorts.

"You!"  Marty said, pointing toward Jeremy, whose immediately moved over
toward their side.  When they reached out to shake hands Marty said "I
think I recognize you my Art History Survey class last year, class, right?

"Yup!  That's me., he said as he moved between Marty and Peter and put his
hands on both their shoulder.  He quickly turned to look Peter right in the
eye and gave him a not-so-subtle wink before he yelled out, "Are we ready
to kick some butt!

"Yea!" both of them cried back, raising their hands and whistling and
clapping at the same time.

The teams continued choosing until everyone had been recruited, Peter and
Marty's team yelling and cheering with each new selection.  Peter took an
immediate liking to all eight guys on his team.  One of them, a very slim,
almost slight appearing Asian guy named Wei, ended up being one of those
`last choices,' the kind of situation that both Peter and Marty wanted to
avoid.  But taking Jeremy' original cue, they surrounded each new guy when
he was selected and made them part of their welcoming cheer, with the last
ones selected getting the loudest and rowdiest welcomes.

Besides being an obviously talented player, Peter thought that Marty seemed
like a nice guy, too. In spite of Jeremy's claims to his reserved manner,
he had demonstrated some flashes of wit and playfulness that leavened this
impression somewhat.  He wasn't pushy or aggressive in picking teams,
either, and seemed to be eager to listen to what Peter had to say.

The other team ended up getting the most outspoken of Kevin's pals, with
gave both Peter and Marty added incentive to make a good showing.  But they
were both worried about the physical matchup.  The other team was pretty
big, almost huge by comparison. Kevin himself was amongst the biggest,
taller than any of Peter and Marty's guys and apparently built more for
football than soccer.

By contrast, Jeremy, who was about 6'-2' was their biggest guy with Marty
being almost his size and Peter probably the next tallest at just under
6'. But he rest just got smaller and smaller from there, finishing out with
the wiry Wei at about 5'-6".  Size normally doesn't matter too much in
soccer, but if the game gets rough it can have consequences.  They would
have to play with smarts and speed and avoid a too physical of a match.

Not having team uniforms and basking in warm early September weather, the
traditional way to distinguish the teams was to do `Shirts and Skins.'
Most of the guys on the other team had already taken their shirts off, not
waiting for the captains to choose, a unilateral decision that didn't set
well with either of the co-captains.

"Pricks."  Peter muttered under his breath, which got a knowing nod from
Marty.

Usually, Peter looked forward to playing skins.  When he was growing up he
and his two older brothers spent practically the entire summers shirtless,
either at the lakefront beach or playing sports.  It made him feel great
and added to the fun.  But now he seemed to absorb some of his co-captain's
intensity and really wanted to focus on the game.  It didn't distract him
that a few of the Skins team put some pretty studly bodies on display.  He
was here to support his team.

Once they got the match started, his worries about the size difference
quickly evaporated.  Wei, the smallest guy who Peter was the most concerned
for, was able to more than hold his own against the bigger guys, who didn't
expect this small Forward's aggressive play.

"Hey, watch it dude!' one of the big guys yelled out when Wei slid right
into his legs and tripped him up, the unfortunate though not necessarily
unintended result of his aggressive attempt to steal the ball away.  It was
a sure `yellow card[C. M.2]' if this were a real match, but Wei ignored him
and continue to harass the Skins on their end of the pitch, helping to keep
the pressure up and the match a close 3-2 score in favor of the big guys.
The Shirts were clearly playing with the kind of underdog passion that made
it more than just a game.

With only a few minutes left to play Marty, who was also playing forward,
took a pass from Wei in an aggressive attempt to tie the score.  The entire
opposing team was back at their goal, desperate to defend their lead, and
Marty was immediately attacked by two of them.

He passed it back to Wei, who then attracted the swarm of opponents over to
himself while Marty dashed for the goal.

Suddenly understanding Marty's plan and only having a moment before the
hoard was on top of him, he shot the ball back to Marty, who rocketed it
past the goalie's straining, outstretched hand.

"Goal!"

Wei and Peter led the charge as they all piled on top Marty, who had knelt
down at the goal in exhaustion and was unprepared for the celebratory
onslaught.

"Go Marty!"  They yelled as his teammates started the pile-on.

In the tumult of the celebration Peter ended up being the one immediately
on top of Marty, who had been knocked on his back and was lying was at the
very bottom.  As he felt the load of one guy after another pressing onto
his back he started to become concerned for Marty, who seemed to be getting
anxious at the bottom of the pile.  With great effort, Peter was able
maneuver his hands to either side of him, directly on the ground, so that
the full weight of everyone wasn't coming directly down. Out of the mass of
bodies on either side of him he noticed Jeremy's brown hand struggling to
do the same.

At the same time Marty had reached up onto either side of Peter himself,
struggling to keep the weight off of both of them.  He was basically
supporting a guy on either side of Peter plus whoever was on top of them,
and enormous load that was demanding all the strength he had.

Then Kevin, none to happy about the goal, thought he'd join in the fun, and
maybe even cause a little damage to these upstarts.  He got a running
start, jumped into the air, and landed with a thud on the top of the pile.
Peter could feel the `oomph' of air come out of the guys on top of him who
took the direct hit.

He was surprised that the new load came onto him only gradually, before he
realized that Marty's arms had taken the bulk of the shock, protecting him
from the worst damage.  But he was completely exhausting his strength in
the process, and, slowly but surely, his arms were finally collapsing.

With the additional weight bearing down Peter noticed a mounting panic in
Marty's eyes, even in the darkness at the bottom of the pile.

"Please! get off, get off!!"  He suddenly yelled, as Peter strained to keep
more weight off him

"Off! Off!'  Peter started to yell at the same.  "Get off, you guys, it's
too much weight! Get off!"

He could feel Marty start writhing underneath him, squirming and fighting
to get out. Peter could tell he was still trying to reach around him,
pushing and shoving desperately in a futile effort to move the mass of
bodies off of them.  He was almost screaming, repeatedly yelling "Let me
out!  Get away!" when suddenly his flailing fist found a free zone of space
and came crashing into Peter's face.

He knew Marty wasn't in control, and thought that he may not have even
realized that he had hit him.  But even though the area around his right
eye stung like hell, he continued to use all of his strength to try to keep
as much weight as possible off of Marty.

As the guys finally started to remove themselves from the pile and Peter
could begin to see daylight again, it was clear that Marty was still lying
on the ground in a panic.  As soon as he possibly could, Peter rolled over
to the side, giving him as wide a berth as possible.

"Jesus, guy, what the hell's the problem?  We were just having some fun"
Peter heard one of the opposing players yell out as they all gathered
around Peter and Marty, the only two left on the ground.

Marty seemed in a daze, shaking his heard, clearly trying to orient
himself.  He rolled up onto his knees, looking at the ground, almost
seeming like he was coming back from another world.  "Sorry, guys..." he
said quietly as he shook his head back and forth, trying to get his
bearings back.  "I'm claustrophobic, and...well, I, um...I... can't deal
with this kind of thing."

"Are you OK now?  Peter asked, reaching over and putting his hand on
Marty's shoulder, as did Wei, who had been near them both at the bottom of
the pile.

"Yea, I... I think I'm OK..." he looked up and around then at Peter's face,
and then his own eyes bulged.

"Oh my god!  Did I do that to you?"  He said, pointing to the red welt
forming around Peter's eye.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Peter said, not taking his eyes off
of Marty, even as he felt the throb in his face.  "I'll be OK.  But what
about you?  Are you OK?"

Marty was about to reach over to Peter's face, but then just caught
himself, quickly jerking it back. "Oh god, I'm so sorry!"  He said as he
moved closer to Peter.  "Are you OK?  I can see its getting red... um...can
I touch it Peter, I mean, I want see how it is, if I broke anything."

Peter wiped his brow in a nervous response, though he had no reason to be
nervous, at least that he was conscious of.  His thick brown hair was still
all over his face.  "Sure, that's OK," he said, "maybe you can see
something that I can't feel."

Marty reached over and pushed more of the wet, sweaty hair from around the
dark brown eyes, completely exposing the wound.  He gently felt around the
area around the eye, but kept a safe distance.  "Hmmm...doesn't look like
anything's broken."

He looked all around the area as Peter tracked the movement of his eyes.
First they looked directly into Peter's own eyes.  Then they looked right,
down, over, tracing a circle around the wound, examine every minute detail.

He thought they were the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

He even noticed the pupil refocusing for distance, particularly when
Marty's observation shifted beyond the injured area for a moment, probably
noticing the device in Peter's right ear.  But then the eye jumped back to
the injured area, intensely rescanning where he had been just a moment
before.

"It hurts when I touch you, doesn't it?"  he asked, scrunching up his own
face in a way that someone does when they prepare themselves for something
they don't want to hear.

In fact, when Marty had touched him he had momentarily forgotten about the
wound in an almost uncontrollable flush of heat.  It was weird.  The area
around his eye had had a sharp sting, but for a moment it just went away.
It almost put him in his own daze, until he realized that everyone was
still looking at him, waiting for his answer.

"Oh, yea, a bit, but I'll be OK."  Peter said, dismissing the injury.

He was not exactly sure how his eye would turn out, but wasn't overly
concerned about it.  Growing up, he had roughhoused so much with his
sports-crazed brothers that he got used to injuries, they were just part of
the package. What he was more concerned about was that Marty's experience
at the bottom of that pile was a lot worse than what had happened to Peter
himself.

Peter didn't know much about claustrophobia, but whatever Marty felt down
there, it was pretty traumatic. He had also yelled out "Get away!" when he
was pinned down, which seemed slightly odd to Peter, given the
circumstances.  But in Marty's panicked state of mind, who knew what was
going through his head.

"You might have a shiner later on," Marty said as he continued to carefully
scan the area around the eye. "Can you see OK?"

"Oh, yea, no problem. I think I'll be fine," he said as he shook his head
and suggested that they all get back to the game, an idea that brought
instant rejection from his teammates.

"You need to get some ice on that!" Wei said to him. "It doesn't look too
bad, but don't press your luck.  Go get ice.  In the meantime, we'll win it
for you!"

"Yes!  We'll make sure you're recognized in the post-game interviews, so
hit the showers, dude!" Jeremy said with a smile as he rubbed Peter's
shoulder and then helped him up off of the ground.

Without Peter in the game, it was a struggle for the underdog Shirts team.
But with heroic performances by Marty, Wei and Jeremy, they were able to
keep the match a tie, which was as good as a victory in their eyes.

After the match, Jeremy was so tired he could hardly stand. But he was
anxious to call Peter, both to see how the eye was doing and to let him
know how the game ended.  He had been crouched next to the goal and was
just about to get up when he sensed someone behind him.

Turning his head, he realized it was Marty, who extended his hand to help
pull up his exhausted team mate.

"Thanks, guy,' he said as he got to his feet.  "Hey, great job there.  Even
shorthanded, we were able to pull it out."

"Everyone did a great job, everybody,' he said, not able to come up with a
different word because of his own exhaustion and slow recovery.  Jeremy
expected him to talk more about the game, but he had something else on his
mind.

"Hey Jeremy,' he said, with an intense focus in his eyes, "I think that you
know Peter's contact info, at least I hope you do.  I checked the school
directory on my phone just a second ago, but I must have spelled his name
wrong or my old phone can't read it or something, I don't know what.  So
could you let me know? I really want to check up on him tonight."

It was the most innocent of requests, one that Jeremy would have normally
responded to without a moment's delay. But he had one small hesitation.  He
knew Peter as well as anyone at school, and even though he himself was
totally straight, he had a sense that Peter had some reaction to this guy.
Even if he denied it, or didn't even realize it.  Especially after what
happened with the punch.

But quickly realizing that he couldn't make a case for plausible
deniability, not to mention the obvious concern all over Marty's face, he
pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled for the information.

"I've got it all, man, cell, email, house address, you need it I got it."

"Thanks so much, Jeremy. I'll give him a call," he said as he copied the
information onto a small spiral memo book pad that he had pulled out of his
backpack.  "I hope he's OK."