Date: Tue, 14 May 2013 22:52:25 -0700
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: Diamond Dreams  Chapter 21

The usual applies. See Chapter One for the usual. Please donate to
Nifty. Always be safe.

Coach Gardner wants to run the Mayfield High baseball program his
way. Any dissenters are welcome to leave. He finds the right buttons
to push on Marty, the buttons that make Marty decide that heading for
Randy's house for a welcome bottle of vodka will solve his rapidly
escalating problems.

Douglas at thehakaanen@hotmail.com



CHAPTER 21
SCHEMES

<Monday, January 5th, Mayfield Middle School>

The New Year started out positively for the Mayfield boys. Little did
they know that some of their worlds would come crumbling down
before the start of baseball season. A group of the baseball boys sat
together at the baseball table: Eric, Noah, the twins, Lars, and
Hunter. They almost always sat together at lunch, and today was no
exception. Sometimes Justin, a seventh grader joined them. Sixth
graders Chandler, Korey, Drew, and Mikey joined them at times as
well.

"How was the big trip?" Kevin asked Eric.

"It kicked ass, just totally kicked ass beyond kicking ass." Eric knew
his family had a big trip planned during winter break, and was ecstatic
when he found out they would be going on a Caribbean cruise. They
left the day after Christmas and returned home on January second. "It
was warm, sunny, and there were lots of things to do. The ship
rocked, the beaches rocked, and I got to snorkel for the first time."
Eric's enthusiasm for the trip was obvious to all and most of the lunch
talk was about Eric's incredible trip.

"Ships are supposed to rock," Noah said.

"You know what I meant," Eric told him.

"I know you weren't precise with your language, but I forgive you,
since you obviously got caught up in the excitement of the moment."

"We're all jealous of that tan," Kraig said, changing the subject.

The conversation at lunch the next day turned to an entirely different
topic, one that made a couple of them uncomfortable. "You know
what would be ultra cool?" Kevin asked.

Somebody had to bite and answer the question and it was Kraig who
did so, since he already knew what the question was going to be. He
answered the question with a question: "What?"

"It would be cool if all six of us came out and told everybody we were
boyfriends before we finished here and went to high school."

"That might be cool if we were actually boyfriends," Noah said. "But
since that doesn't happen to be the case..."

"I thought you two were, like, an item; that you were, like, dating and
stuff."

"We are dating, but that doesn't make us boyfriends who are ready to
come out to the world and hold hands going down the hall." Noah
looked over at Eric to make sure he was on solid ground. "Right,
Eric?"

"Noah's right. Maybe someday we'll get there, but that day isn't right
now."

"And there is no way I am anybody's boyfriend," Hunter said. "And
even if I was, I sure wouldn't want to say it to everybody." He looked
at Kraig for support. "Right, Kraig?"

"Um...yeah...sure...right," Kraig said. He still couldn't figure out
Hunter. He and Hunter had acknowledged they were more than bed
buddies. When Kraig took Hunter's cherry, Hunter said he wanted
them to be boyfriends. But now he wouldn't even admit that to his
closest friends. Kraig looked at Kevin, who shrugged his shoulders.
Kevin knew all about the relationship between Kraig and Hunter.

"That leaves you, Lars," Kevin said.

"I'm Kevin's boyfriend. But like Hunter said, if he was Kraig's
boyfriend, he sure wouldn't want to come out and tell everybody, and
I sure don't want to right now. "Besides, I don't need to hold Kevin's
hand in the hall bad enough to go tell everybody we're gay."

"I guess that settles that." Kevin had misread his friends, but he was
the type of person to hold no resentments over their decisions. He
couldn't help but think their time to come out would arrive, if not this
year, then soon after that. What he didn't know was how soon it
would happen and what the consequences would be.

<Monday, January 5, Mayfield High School>

Coach Gardner watched as the final student left his classroom after
his last period US History class. He packed up what he wanted to
take home with him as he prepared to head for the gym for basketball
practice. He coached the JV girls' basketball team. The head coach
had his last period free, but the assistant coaches didn't receive that
privilege. Oh well, he thought, I will have last period open next
semester for baseball season.

Sara came skipping into his room just as he started for the door. Sara
was a fifteen year old sophomore who had used her looks and
feminine wiles to help Coach Gardner keep tabs on some of the
freshman baseball players he considered to be trouble makers. His
major target was Marty.

"Hi, Coach Gardner.  I wanted to tell you how much fun it was with
you over break and thought I'd walk to practice with you."

"Shhhh, not so loud," he said with a smirk.

"Sorry. But it was fun." Sara had spent two nights at the coach's
house while his wife was gone visiting her parents. While Sara had
not been a virgin before the visit, she discovered that sex with a
grown, mature man was an entirely different affair than sex with a
teenage high school boy.

"We agreed not to talk about it in school, didn't we, Sara?"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gary...I mean Mr. Gardner." Sara's feelings for
her coach had gone from a school girl crush to knowing that she was
totally, completely, and madly in love with her teacher. She would do
anything to sleep with him again, or to just step into a shower with
him. Just standing there in the room with him caused her to feel the
juices flow.

"Let's walk down to the gym." Sara played on Coach Gardner's JV
team. "Did you get together with Rodney after we...um...talked?" he
asked the petite sophomore.

She blushed and said they'd done more than spend time together.
"But he's not near as good as you are," she whispered. Coach
Gardner could see that Sara was starting to become more of a
liability than an asset. He had had an affair with a student at his
previous school. The girl had been much more mature than Sara and
they both enjoyed the relationship. Because of dropping enrollment,
his position had been eliminated. He found his current job in Mayfield
soon after.

"What did Rodney have to say?"

"He said that they decided in their last meeting that they were going
to play for their Falcons team, or whatever it's called, and not for the
team you said they have to play on. He said Marty told them that you
couldn't cut them all because they were, like, the best freshman
players in the school."

I might not be able to cut them all, but I can sure get rid of Marty, the
coach though to himself, or, even better, get him to cooperate with
me totally and end that whole Falcon team bullshit.

"Did you make any arrangements to see Rodney again?" Coach
Gardner asked.

"I see him all the time here in school, even if he is, like, a freshman."

The two had exited the main building and were standing in the
breezeway that connected the main building with the gymnasium. "Do
you want to do me another favor?"

"You know I'd do anything for you."

Coach Gardner cringed inwardly at Sara's statement. "How well do
you know Marty?"

"You mean the freshman?"

"Is there another Marty?" Coach Gardner was learning rapidly that
Sara was never going to be in the running for any academic awards.

"I don't know him real good, why?"

Coach Gardner paused long enough to acknowledge the greetings of
two boy basketball players who walked past on their way to the gym.
"So, you'd have no compunction about getting him into a little bit of
hot water?"

"Compuncwhatever, what's that?"

"It means you'd have no problem getting him into trouble, even if you
have to lie about it?"

"You could have said that to start with instead of using big words. I
don't even know him. And I said I'd do anything for you even if it
means lying. I mean I'd do it as long as he, like, doesn't find out about
it or nothing."

"Okay, we need to get down to practice. How about you hang around
after practice and I give you a ride home. I'll tell you what I need you
to do then."

"Sure, Ga...er...Coach," the girl said enthusiastically. The two split up
after entering the foyer, each going to their respective locker room.
Sara could hardly wait for the ride home with her coach, while Coach
Gardner couldn't help but wonder if the Byzantine web he was
weaving was worth the effort and risk he was putting into it.

After practice, Sara waited outside in back of the gym as instructed.
Coach Gardner drove his car to the end of the parking lot, killed his
lights, and waited for Sara to approach in the dark. Sara got into the
car and threw her backpack into the backseat. They left the parking
lot and headed out of town until Coach Gardner pulled into a dirt road
that was surrounded by forest. He found a wide spot and parked,
leaving the engine running on the cold January evening. He
explained to Sara what he wanted her to do.

"So, you want me to tell Rodney that me and Marty got drunk at his
place and he fucked me?" Sara asked after the coach finished.

"You don't have to say he fucked you if you don't want to. But you
have to say you two got drunk together and that he swore you to total
silence." Coach Gardner knew Sara had no problem with drinking
alcohol. She'd gotten a little drunk on the wine he'd served her on the
first night she slept with him. He definitely knew that she had no
problem fucking a boy, let alone a man.

"What if Rodney asks Marty about it and he says it isn't true?"

"First, you have to convince Rodney that your story is true. Second,
you let me take care of what happens after that."

Sara nodded that she understood. Coach Gardner leaned over and
held the sophomore's head and kissed her lips. The girl accepted his
tongue eagerly and the intensity of the kisses picked up. Coach
Gardner killed the engine and instructed Sara to get into the back
seat. She quickly sat in the back, tossing her backpack over into the
front seat. The coach pulled a big heavy blanket out of the trunk and
sat next to her in the back of the car.

"I guess I should reward you for the great job you're doing for me,"
the coach said. Although the reward is really mine, he thought to
himself.

It didn't take long before the petite fifteen year old was stripped to the
waist and Coach Gardner had his hands all over her still developing
breasts and soon had his lips around one of them. Soon both of them
were naked, with Coach Gardner sitting upright on the seat, Sara on
his lap, and the blanket draped over their shoulders. Sarah moaned
lovingly as she rode the coach's seven inch cock. The coach
responded to Sara's teenage pussy surrounding his hips by covering
her upper body with kisses. As much as he tried to control his
passion, the end result was quick and satisfying for the coach, but
Sara was disappointed when he broke off the sex before she had an
orgasm of her own.

<Monday, January 19, Sara's house>

It was Martin Luther King Day and school was out. Sara had asked
Rodney on Friday if he wanted to come to her house on Monday. She
told him her mother was working and maybe they could have some
fun in her bed. Rodney had never been one to pass up a romp in bed,
going back to the first time he got laid by a fourteen year old when he
was ten.

Rodney and Sara lay naked on her bed. He was rock hard and
anxious to make out with her some more and to finish up by fucking
the slender girl. But, for whatever reason, she seemed to want to talk.
He opened up the package that had his rubbers and pulled a condom
out, wishing Sara would just shut up and open up her legs. On the
one hand it was great that a sophomore as pretty and popular as
Sara was putting out for him, a freshman. On the other hand she was
really a ditzy blond and could drive him nuts at times. This was one of
those times. He was remembering why he didn't like hanging with
one girl for long, but preferred to play the field. Rodney put the rubber
to his lips and started blowing into it, treating it like a balloon.

"Are you even listening to what I'm telling you?" Sara asked
somewhat impatiently.

Rodney pulled the rubber away from his lips. "Yeah, every word." He
couldn't help but wonder if this is what married couples were like in
bed.

"So, you aren't mad about what Marty did then?"

"No, of course not." Rodney didn't have a clue about what she was
talking about. He'd been too busy playing with his cock and wanting
to stick it into the fifteen year old's twat to really listen to what she
was saying.

"You mean you don't mind him getting drunk with me and fucking
me?"

Oh, so that's what she's talking about, he thought. Damn, who cares
what Marty does in bed? Besides, he's probably queer, anyway.

"It's his business. But he doesn't drink no more, so it seems weird he
did it with you."

"Weird that he drank with me or weird that he fucked me?"

"Girl, you have to stop using dirty words like that. That's for us boys to
do."

"You're impossible. I like older boys way better than a baby
freshman."

"So, do you want me to leave?"

Sara was horny enough to answer no to that question. "So what's so
weird about what Marty did?" she asked again.

"It's weird that he drank. I dunno much about his sex life." I sure ain't
telling that slut that I think he's queer, because she'd tell everybody.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, I'll go ask him and he'll tell me what went down."

"I can tell you that Marty will lie to you."

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

"I just know his type."

Rodney knew there was something suspicious going on. Marty had
been his teammate in football and baseball since they were little kids,
and over the past year they'd even started becoming friends. There
was no way this girl would get Marty to drink with her; they hardly
knew each other.

On top of that, Rodney had the suspicion that there was more going
on between Marty and Rich than their just being close buddies. Marty
used to make a big deal about chasing girls, but he'd never had a
girlfriend. He had the reputation for being a cocksucker at parties
when he was drinking. And to top it off, when Rich and Marty had
become friends again, Rich and Trish broke up. To Rodney, all of that
really hinted that Marty might be gay, not that he cared. For one
thing, Marty was a good looking jock, a stud the girls gave a lot of
second looks to, but who didn't seem interested in them. If Marty was
gay, Rodney figured that would keep the competition for those girls
down. And gay or not, Rodney thought Marty was a cool dude who
was a good friend.

All of this had caused Rodney's boner to deflate. The fact that he was
soft while lying in bed with a hot girl gave him a message. The
message said it was time to get dressed and go. He got out of the
bed and grabbed his boxers off of the floor. "Time to go," he said.

"Aren't we going to, like, fuck?"

"I'm suddenly not in the mood. Sorry." He pulled his clothes on
quickly.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Nah, it's not about you," he lied.  He gave her a perfunctory kiss and
left her room as quickly as he could. To him that whole affair was very
strange. He had never walked out on a girl before, especially a naked
one lying on her bed eager for sex, but he had suddenly felt
uncomfortable about how things were going.

As for Sara, she was upset with Rodney. "Fucking freshman—he is
so fucking immature," she said to herself. Rodney might have walked
out on her, but she still needed to take care of the horniness that
making out with him had created.

Rodney decided to see if Marty was home and find out what the deal
was with him and Sara. He got to Mr. B's house and knocked. Mrs. B
answered and guided him to the guest bedroom in back where Marty
was staying. He knocked on the bedroom door. Marty opened the
door, wearing just a pair of boxers. "Hey Rodney, wassup?"

"Do you always answer the door in your underwear?"

"It's my bedroom. Besides, I didn't expect to see you."

The two boys sat on the couch in the large guest room. Marty turned
off the TV. He made no attempt to wear anything besides his boxers.
"What brings you to my house?" Rodney noted how Marty called Mr.
B's house "my house". "This isn't exactly a popular destination." Marty
was still a bit of a loner. He rarely had visitors at his parents' house
and didn't expect to see any here.

"Do you know Sara Collins?"

"I know who she is...cute blonde sophomore girl. Why, does she
have the hots for me?"

"I was with her before coming here."

"With her where?"

"With her naked on her bed."

"Damn, you stud you, getting it on with a soph. I love it. So, you came
here to do some bragging?"

"Not exactly. We ended up not doing it."

"Wait...you were naked in bed with Sara Collins and you didn't fuck
her?"

"Not this time. I've done her a couple of times before."

"Okay, I am very confused. What does all this have to do with me?"

Marty's confusion had already more than convinced Rodney that
Sara had been lying to him and that Marty had had nothing to do with
Sara. "She says you were at her house last weekend and the two of
you got drunk and you fucked her."

"Don't tell me you believed that shit," Marty said.

"No, not really, but I still had to, you know, check it out. All I could
think of was why would she lie to me while we were naked and ready
to have sex?"

"I have no clue. I mean I don't even know the bitch. I'm getting really
tired of people saying shit about me."

"So you didn't get drunk and have sex with her?"

"Fuck, Rodney, that's what I just told you. I haven't had any booze in
over a year and I don't fuck girls."

Rodney gave Marty a startled look. "What do you mean you don't
fuck girls? All you've talked about since sixth grade is which girl you
were gonna fuck next, even though we all knew you never fucked any
of them."

Marty realized he had somewhat overstepped his bounds, not
personally, but because anything he said would involve Rich. Marty
didn't care what Rodney thought about him, but he couldn't out Rich.
"I just mean I don't fuck them because, um, it can be kinda
dangerous. The whole abstinence shit we learn about, you know, how
we can't get a girl in trouble as long as we don't have sex with one."

"I don't believe you think that way for a second. I know I don't—that's
what rubbers are for."

"Think whatever you want." Marty decided to steer the conversation
into a slightly different direction. "You must have a huge case of blue
balls after making out naked with Sara and never getting off."

"You don't know the half of it."

"I was just thinking about jerking off when you knocked. All this talk
about girls has me totally horny now," he lied. It was Rodney's
presence in his bedroom that was making him horny. "You're
welcome to join me."

"I haven't jerked off with another guy since the end of last school
year," Rodney said.

"Wow, a whole six months ago."

"I guess it would be something different to do. I know you were mister
jerk off in class, and the showers, and on the team buses, back in
middle school. And I got a boner that won't quit. But no funny stuff."

"I don't lean that way," Marty said.

Rodney thought about the way Marty and Rich hung out together. He
thought about what Marty had just said about not fucking girls.
Rodney didn't believe his friend, but it wasn't his way to start digging.
Right now he was horny beyond horny and it would be kind of fun to
get off with his buddy.

Marty pulled off his boxers. His boner was standing up, hard and
ready.

"Are you sure it's safe here?" Rodney asked.

"Nobody bothers me except Jeffrey, and he's in bed with a cold. I
don't think we'll see him."

While Rodney was as straight as anybody in the baseball group, he
also wasn't hung up on protocol. Right now he and a buddy were
horny and he saw no problem with them taking care of business
together. The last time he jerked off with another boy was after he
and Vince had made out naked and furiously with a couple of seventh
grade girls at Vince's house just short of the last week of school. The
girls wouldn't go all the way with them and said they had to be home
in time for dinner. They lay back on the couch in Vince's basement
and took care of their business.

This time Rodney lay back on the couch in Marty's bedroom, his
pants and boxers pulled down to his ankles and his t-shirt pulled up
above his nipples. His friend was next to him, naked. The two
freshmen got ready for business, but Marty stopped Rodney before
they really got started.

"Want some lube?"

"Anything's better than spit."

Marty got some petroleum jelly from his bathroom, and then the two
horny teens, Marty being fifteen and Rodney fourteen, started
pounding their hard adolescent cocks. Rodney didn't see the session
on the couch as being sexual at all, nor did Marty, even though he
was gay. It was simply two horny boys doing what horny boys do.

Because of his assignation with Sara, Rodney was very ready to blow
out his sexual tension. As his not totally mature teen cum shot out of
his cock he could tell instantly that he should have pulled his shirt off
instead of merely pulling it up; his first two squirts of cum both landed
on his shirt. Rodney's orgasm was all it took for Marty to shoot his
more mature cum. He shot three squirts on his bare chest and a
couple more dribbled lower.

Marty saw the mess on Rodney's shirt and offered him one of his t-
shirts to wear home. "I'll keep your shirt and throw it in the wash,"
Marty said.

"Sounds like a plan." As he pulled off his shirt, he asked Marty to tell
him again why he left his family.

"Me and the old man didn't get along, just like I've been saying at
school," Marty told him.

"Okay, whatever." Rodney pulled his pants up. "That was fun." They
talked a little more about Sara's deceit and finally Rodney said he
had to go. The two of them fist bumped at the door, and Rodney left,
still wondering what the real reason was that Marty had left home and
moved in with this family. The two of them never did return the shirts
to each other.

<Saturday, January 31, Centralia Methodist Church meeting room>

Marty sat patiently waiting for the meeting to start. He'd invited three
people to be at the meeting that evening. They were sitting quietly
next to him. Rich was at his right side, sitting as close to Marty as he
could. Sitting to his left were his brother, John, and Eric. His two
sponsors, Mr. B and Donald, were both at the meeting. His mother
sat quietly at the far back of the room. Donald had said he would take
Marty's guests home after the ceremony if they didn't want to sit
through the entire hour long meeting, but after learning that there
would be cake at the end of the meeting, they all elected to stay. Eric,
for one, was curious as to how the whole meeting business worked.

The meeting started with the Serenity Prayer and then went through
the usual readings and announcements. Finally the meeting secretary
called on their birthday chip chair to start the birthday countdown.

Two people came up to collect a 30 day chip, one picked up a 60 day
chip, and nobody was celebrating a three month birthday. A middle
aged lady then collected her six month chip. Each person celebrating
a birthday said a few words about how he or she had stayed sober
long enough to collect a chip. Each recipient received an enthusiastic
round of applause, both after getting their chip and their birthday hug,
and after sharing how they did it.

The chair said simply, "One year," and Marty leaped up. "My name is
Marty and I'm an alcoholic and on January first I had one year." He
went to the front of the room to collect his chip, getting a huge hug
from the portly birthday chair.

"I did it by not drinking one day at a time like my sponsor told me. I
did it by listening to my sponsor and doing the work he told me to do.
I did it because I listened to some of you here at the meeting and
because you never treated me like a little kid. You all treated me like
a grown up and you told me you wanted me to keep coming back. I
did it because you all wanted me to stay sober. And I did it with help
from friends like Eric and Rich, who came with me today, and people
like my brother who came, too. Thank you."

Marty hurried away from the front before he started to cry, but he
couldn't move fast enough to get past Mr. B, who gave him a huge,
heartfelt hug. Nobody missed the tears coming from the eyes of the
teenage boy and his adult sponsor after they broke the hug.

As Marty sat back in his chair, not bothering to wipe away the tears,
the words Mr. B had told him more than once sat in his head. "The
first year is discovery. After that comes recovery." Marty knew he still
had a lot of work left to do. He was thankful to have so many people
in his life to help him do it. He wished his father could have been one
of those.

<Wednesday, February 4, Mayfield High School>

Marty walked into Coach Gardner's classroom. When he was an
eighth grader he might have walked in with the strut of a cocky young
teen, but he would have been suffering from innumerable forms of
fear on the inside. But this time he was walking into the room with the
air of a confident young adult, who felt he had nothing to fear from his
baseball coach, a man for whom he had little respect.

"Thanks for coming in Marty." Coach Gardner had asked Marty to
come into his room after school. The girls' JV team had a game at
5:45, so the coach had no practice to attend.

"Not a problem, coach. What do you need?"

"Baseball turnouts start in a little over two weeks, although I suppose
I don't need to tell you that."

"I'm ready for it to start. We're going to have a really good JV team,
and I bet the varsity will be good, too," Marty said, attempting to be
diplomatic.

"Well, the start of baseball is what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I've been working out and attending the throwing sessions with
Coach Hart." Coach Hart was a first year teacher who would be
taking the JV job that had been held by Coach Gardner. "And I've
been going with Rodney, and Rich, and Vince and a couple of other
guys to the batting cages in Centralia on the weekends." Marty
wondered where Coach Gardner was heading with this conversation.

"You're still part of that baseball club or whatever it is, right?"

"The Go to State Team. Yes, sir, I'm still in it." Marty decided that it
might be a good idea to be as polite and formal as he could.

"I hear you're the president of the group?"

"I'm called the chairman." Marty could feel his confidence sag a little
as he started to get the drift of the conversation.

Coach Gardner ignored him. "You're the president after I told all of
you freshmen I wanted you to have no part of that group; that I would
take care of summer ball."

"We put a lot of work into the Falcons, coach. We think our group will
help the program. We'd have no problem with you helping. I mean
you are our school coach and all. But since you can't coach us, we
still need a coach of our own."

"Who said I can't coach you?"

"We were told by Coach Sanders and Coach Ecklund that those were
the rules."

"Only if you insist on being an all Mayfield team. My plan is to
combine you with Kentwood or Meadow Park players, or both. Then I
can coach you."

"We think for us to be the best we can be we should all be from
Mayfield." Marty knew he was starting to step into some deep shit,
but he didn't care. He believed in what he was doing and in his
teammates. They didn't elect him to be the chairman of the group
because he was going to wuss out when things got tough.

"I think what is best for you as a baseball player in my program is for
you to resign as the president and to convince your fellow freshmen
to quit. I'll deal with the eighth graders next year."

"No offense coach, but I can't quit on my teammates. Too many
people worked too hard to get us where we are."

"You're not going to quit on your teammates; you'll all be leaving
together. I think when I tell them they have no future in Mayfield
baseball if they insist on staying with your silly club they'll drop it like
a hot potato. So, you might as well lead the way."

"I can't do that, coach." Marty was now working up a sweat. He was
afraid this conversation with his coach was going to eventually
happen, and the deeper he got into it, the more he realized he wasn't
as prepared for it as he thought he was.

"Sure you can, Marty. Because if you don't I'll spill your little secret."

Oh, fuck, Marty thought, he knows about me and Rich—but how?
"Um...secret?"

"The secret that you've taken up drinking again."

"I don't know who told you that, sir, but it's not true. I haven't had any
alcohol for over a year."

"I've heard differently from two different people."

Marty could feel his temper bubbling up. He would rather have heard
about his relationship with Rich than about the relationship of him and
alcohol. He knew he would have to leave the coach's classroom
before he lost control of himself. But he wasn't ready to leave yet. He
reached into the right front pocket of his jeans, pulled out a metal coin
and whammed it down on the student desk to his right. "I don't care
what they say. That is my one year coin and I fucking worked my ass
off for it. I never worked harder for anything in my life, and anybody
who says different can go f..., go jump in a lake."

"It's easy to fool people, Marty. I understand alcoholics are good at
doing that and you seem to be an expert at it. But I'm not easily
fooled. When two of your peers tell me they've seen you drunk in the
past month, I have to believe them. I can't imagine why they would lie
about it."

Marty glared at the coach. "One of them is Sara Collins, who I've
never spent a moment alone with in my life," he said quietly, his voice
tinged with anger. "Who is the other liar?"

Coach Gardner was surprised that Marty knew about Sarah, but he
didn't attempt to find out how he found out. "An old drinking buddy of
yours, who has become grown up enough to see the error of his
ways, and of your ways."

"Who?" Marty asked again. Connor's name popped into his head first.
He knew Connor still drank booze, but he also knew Connor would be
the last person to rat him or anybody else out to the coach or any
other adult.

"Steve."

A momentary quiet settled on the room. Marty was furious now. Next
to his dad, Steve was the biggest asshole in his life. He had been a
pain since he was in seventh grade. Steve had a way of convincing
adults of his goodness when he was, in fact, a devious son-of-a-bitch.
What Marty couldn't figure out was why Sara and Steve would
fabricate a story about his drinking and tell the coach.

What Marty didn't know was that Coach Gardner was having sex with
Sara and that he had promised Steve, a sophomore, a spot on the
varsity roster if he went along with the story of Marty's going back out
and drinking. Coach Gardner had heard rumors that there was little
love lost between the two boys and decided to take advantage of it.

While Coach Gardner owed his varsity job to Coach Collins being
fired because the boys had exposed the former coach's misuse of the
ballpark advertising funds, the coach was also the former coach's
friend and colleague. He was prepared to make the players involved
in getting Coach Collins terminated pay a price for their audacity. He
knew that Coach Collins supported everything he was doing. Coach
Gardner was certain that the former coach didn't know how he had
convinced Sara to help him. Marty was going to be one of his first
victims.

"Steve hates my guts and would say anything to get at me."

"Steve played on my JV team last year and I have found him to be a
young man of integrity, unlike the one standing in front of me in my
classroom right now."

"I better go," Marty said, his anger now showing in his voice, his body
language, and his flushed face. Marty could feel his knees shaking he
was so angry.

"Let me know when you quit that silly club of yours."

"You won't ever know, because it won't fucking happen!" Marty
shouted as he walked out the door, almost bumping into Sara. His
fury had become an unchecked adolescent fury, a rage that was
almost out of control; he hadn't felt this angry in months.

"Hey, Gary...er, Coach," said Sara just as she entered the room. She
noticed the charging Marty just in time to avoid him, but not in time to
avoid her verbal faux pas.

Marty growled something to Sara, but didn't slow down as he
stomped his way down the hall. He pulled his phone out of his pocket
and looked up Randy's number. If everybody says I've gone back to
drinking, then fuck them, I'll go drink. If I'm gonna get blamed for it
anyway, I might as well do it.

As he scrolled through his contact list he went past Donald's name.
He was holding the phone in his left hand. It wasn't until then that he
felt his one year coin tightly clamped in his right hand. He had been
so angry he hadn't realized that he had been grasping it with his fist
since he'd whammed it on the desk.

He stopped scrolling and tapped Donald's number. As soon as he
called he hoped nobody would answer, as the desire to drown his
anger in alcohol went back to the top of his thoughts. He was pleased
when after five rings the phone went to voicemail.

Okay, I've been good, he thought. I can always say I did what I was
supposed to do and nobody answered. Now I can call Randy.

Marty thought about that bottle of vodka he could get from Randy, but
just like his mind wouldn't let go of the desire to drink, his right hand
wouldn't let go of his coin. There's nobody else to call, he thought.
He'd never bothered to enter the numbers he'd been given at the
Mayfield meeting he'd attended. He didn't want to bother Eric, or
Noah, or somebody who wasn't in the program. He scrolled to Randy.
He could almost taste the booze in his mouth. He could sense the
warmth that would flow through him once he sampled it. He could
sense the numbness he would feel as his problems disappeared
while he drank himself to oblivion.

He was ready to touch Randy's name when he saw another name
under it, the one number he had entered from the meeting. He
remembered putting the number into his phone as a kind of joke,
because the person was so weird. He thought it would be like a
status symbol to have it even though he never intended to call it. He
looked at Randy's number and squeezed his coin tighter, wishing the
life he led belonged to somebody else, wishing he could drink it away,
wishing he could find his answers in the bottle he was ready to buy
from his fellow freshman.

He looked at the other name one more time. It simply said The
Schnoz. He closed his mind to all thought and pushed the name with
his index finger. A raspy voice answered on the second ring.

"Who is this?"

"Marty from school and I met you at a meeting and you gave me your
phone number." Marty wasn't sure what to say, so he let the words
flow out rapid fire.

"What do you want?" the voice asked warily.

"I need help," Marty said simply. "I need help now. Please"

There was a long pause and then the voice asked, "Where are you?"

"In front of the high school."

"Can you make it to the middle school?"

"Yeah." At least I can if I go to my right, he thought. But I won't if I go
to my left.

"You'll find me at the bus area." There was a click and the voice was
gone. Marty looked to his left and saw Randy starting down the street
toward his house. He was tempted to take the easy way, which would
be to follow Randy, especially since the voice of the Schnoz seemed
cold and unfriendly. He squeezed his coin. He'd go to the middle
school, and if The Schnoz was an asshole he could always leave and
go to Randy's house.

He trudged to Mayfield Middle School. The buses were lining up in
the bus zone. Only a few students who lived in town rode the bus;
most of the bus riders were out of town students. He saw a lone
figure standing near the open door of the first bus. It was The
Schnoz, recognizable from the distance by his somewhat corpulent
figure.

Marty walked over to him and stopped a few feet away, saying
nothing.

"I thought it was you I talked to," The Schnoz said. "You can either
stand here and watch me herd the little monsters onto the busses, or
you can go gawk at whoever seems cute to you." At that moment the
bell ending the school day rang. "From what I saw of you here at this
place, it will probably be male."

Marty chose to stand. He was afraid that if he let the big, gruff man
out of his sight he would head straight for Randy's house. He didn't
want to go there, he didn't want to become a mess again, he didn't
want to let everybody down. Yet, at the same time he wanted to get
drunk and stay drunk for days, or weeks, or months, or whatever it
took to make his life numb and keep it numb.

We watched the kids come out of the school, many of them snug in
their winter coats, others braving the cold wearing just light jackets, or
hoodies, some even wearing shorts. Marty had a warm jacket on. He
hated being cold.

"Hey Marty, what are you doing here?" a voice asked. He turned and
saw Kevin, who flashed him a big smile.

"I just needed to see somebody."

"Somebody cute?"

"Well, it wasn't you, if that's what you're thinking."

Kevin grinned and headed for the third bus, which was the bus for the
townies. Marty saw a few other boys he knew, including Chandler
and Korey, who were both excited to see him.

The buses were soon loaded and pulled out of the bus loading zone.
The Schnoz surprised Marty by putting an arm around his shoulder,
the first time he'd shown any warmth. "Sorry about the delay. Thanks
for waiting. I gotta do my job; it's what they pay me for. Let's go to my
little cubbyhole." Marty knew exactly the place he was talking about.
He'd gone by it often on the way to the main hall boys' room during
lunch as he looked for sexual release.

On the way into the building, they passed Dallas, a twelve year old
seventh grader. Marty knew who he was and was surprised how
pallid and thin he looked. "The boy needs help, doesn't seem to be
getting it," The Schnoz said. "Kind of like another boy I saw
wandering around these halls." He looked directly at Marty when he
said that.

They went into the closet sized room that had a small desk and two
chairs. "Sit down."

Marty did. "Why don't you help Dallas?"

"Ain't my job. I tell the counselor what I think and she spends time
filling out paperwork and nothing much gets done."

"Did you tell her about me?"

"Yep. And nothing much got done then, but something's been done
by somebody. It was nice to see you at that meeting. Guess you
needed the number I gave you. Funny how that works. I take it you
got the compulsion to drink inside you."

"Big time. Really big time," Marty admitted. He was shaking, only this
time it was from being nervous rather than from anger.

The Schnoz had Marty relate to him about why he was that upset.
Marty told him about Coach Gardner and his attempt to destroy the
Go to State Team.

"Sounds to me like you got a major resentment," The Schnoz told
him.

"No. What I got is real. He's trying to fuck me over by telling peeps
I've been drinking and trying to split me up from my friends."

"Let me tell you a couple of things about resentments." The Schnoz
acted as if Marty's analysis of the situation had nothing to do with
reality, which irked Marty some. "Resentments have to do with
expectations. Get rid of the expectation, you get rid of the
resentment."

"What do you mean? I don't expect anything."

"Sure you do. You expect the coach to act in a certain way, and since
he isn't acting the way you expect and isn't doing the things you
expect, you're pissed at him. I would call that a resentment."

"But  Mr...um... ." Marty couldn't remember the man's name. To him
he had always been The Schnoz because of his big nose.

"No, buts, son. And you can call me Milton. Sounds way better than
The Schnoz," he said with a hint of a smile. "George B is your
sponsor, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did he ever have you read page 417?"

Marty nodded yes. "But I don't remember much about what it says."

"'Acceptance is the Answer'. There's a lot there; a whole lot there. `I
must keep my magic magnifying mind on my acceptance and off my
expectations.' Right there it says it. Tells you right there why you got
a resentment as big as an old hippopotamus."

"But I got a problem and it won't go away if I don't do nothing about
it."

Milton quoted from the book again. "'If I focus on a problem, the
problem increases; if I focus on the answer, the answer increases.'
Sounds to me like you gotta change some priorities."

"How do I keep from being mad at him when he's
fucking...um...when he's..."

"Fuck is a perfectly good word, son. And I will tell you my second
thought on resentments. You know what resentment is?"

"It's when you have expectations, like you said."

"It's also like you drinking slow poison and then expecting the other
guy to die. That just isn't gonna happen. Now, you're a smart boy, or
you wouldn't have called me. Tells me you take your sobriety serious.
How long do you have right now?"

"A little over a year."

"Nice. Most kids your age can't put that kind of time in, and even
when they do they seem to find an excuse to piss it all away. Adults
too. I had seven years in, then decided I knew more than what was in
that blue book. I had to go through eight years of hell before I got up
the balls to come back. Take it a day at a time, and you can do it for
life."

"That almost seemed too long today."

"Hell, an hour at a time is good. A minute if that's what you need.
Make it something you can do and just do it. Calling me was taking
care of that right when you needed to. Now, here's what I want you to
do. Read that story as soon as you get home. I know you live with
your sponsor, so sit down and read it with him. Pray for your coach.
Get rid of your expectations. Quit drinking the poison. Now go home
and read page 417...read the whole story."

Marty promised to read "Acceptance is the Answer", the story on
page 417 and to talk to Mr. B. He couldn't promise more than that.

"I wouldn't expect you to. Progress, not perfection is what we do. But
you made a start. Go from there."

"Thanks, um, Milton. You helped me a lot. A whole lot. I was so mad
at the world."

"My help won't mean much if you don't do the work yourself."

The two of them talked for a couple of more minutes. Marty got up to
leave. He stepped into the hall and looked both ways, remembering
his lunch time journeys up that hall to jerk off or do more with friends
in the boys' room. "How come you let us go up the hall to do stuff?"
he asked.

"Let who go up the hall? When?"

"A lot of us. We wondered why you'd let us go to the main hall
bathroom at lunchtime."

Milton "The Schnoz" broke out into a full smile for the first time. "Son,
you have me mixed up with somebody else. I can't think of any
reason I'd let rowdy middle school boys go by me up that hall. Now,
get your reading done and talk to that sponsor of yours. He's a good
man and you're fortunate to have him in your life."

That night Marty ate with the Bednarzycks. Lois made pork chops
and mashed potatoes with green beans.  While Marty enjoyed having
dinner with the Bednarzycks, he wanted to learn more about cooking
and making dinners for himself since he had moved into the
apartment across the patio from the house. He had signed up for
cooking the next semester, at first afraid he would be the only boy in
the class, and then not caring if he was or not. He was pleased when
Rodney signed up as well. Rodney told Marty that cooking class had
to be a great place to pick up girls.

Marty and Mr. B. had a long talk about what had transpired in Coach
Gardner's classroom. Mr. B. praised Marty for calling Donald and
then Milton when Donald didn't answer, instead of going to Randy's
house.

"You had another lesson on how little control of your life you actually
have, not to mention how much maturing you need to do." Marty
looked down at the floor, ashamed at how he had let his temper and
emotions get the better of him. "But you also showed how much
growing up you've done by calling somebody instead of turning to
alcohol. I'm very proud of you." Marty looked up and gave Mr. B a shy
grin.

Mr. B offered to help Marty deal with Coach Gardner, but Marty told
him that this was an issue the boys would have to solve on their own,
at least so far.

"It would be shame for your Team to come this far and then have a
vindictive asshole crush it," Mr. B said, surprising Marty with the use
of the word asshole.

"He won't. But I think we have to fight our own fight," Marty said.

"That works up to a point, Marty. But sometimes adults need to step
in to help solve adult type problems."

After their chat, as well a discussion of the story on page 417, Mr. B
gave Marty a much needed hug. "I love you, son. You've become a
special person in my life."

"I love you, too, Sparky. I don't know where I'd be without you."
George Bednarzyck knew that when Marty called him Sparky, it was
his way of calling him dad without actually doing so.

Marty literally ran into Jeffrey just outside of Mr. B's study. "Are you
going to read to me?" the little boy asked.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Marty said.

Jeffrey had a new book, titled "The High Skies Adventures of Blue
Jay the Pirate." The eight year old was already in his pajama, ready
for bed. Jeffrey got under his covers and Marty lay next to him,
reading with great effect. Doing almost nightly readings had helped
develop him into an excellent oral reader, who had learned how to
embellish and dramatize his material on the fly.

As he always did, Jeffrey opened the front of his pajama tops and let
Marty rub one hand along his smooth chest. "I love being petted while
you read," he said often. But it had been awhile since they had gone
any farther in bed. Jeffrey seemed to be satisfied with having his
chest and belly rubbed and whatever satisfied Jeffrey satisfied Marty.
Marty read until the eight year old fell quietly to sleep and then eased
himself out of the bed. He was full of love for Jeffrey, for Mr. B, for
Mrs. B, even for Sammy. This was his family—he knew it and they
knew it. He could always feel the warmth from the love they gave
him. He went off to his own bed feeling warm deep inside of himself.

<Friday, February 6, Mayfield High School>

With his team having another early evening game, Coach Gardner
asked all of the freshmen who belonged to the Go to State Team to
meet in his classroom after school. His scheme was starting to unfold
nicely. He was going to have his cake and eat it too; the organization
that brought down Coach Collins would be disbanded, the best
freshmen would be playing for his program under his rules, and
Marty, the biggest troublemaker in the group, would not be playing
school ball, at least as a freshman. The fact that Marty was the best
baseball player in the class was irrelevant to the coach. He saw Marty
and the eighth graders in the organization as the chief culprits in the
firing of Coach Collins. He would deal with the eighth graders next
year when they became freshmen.

Marty and his freshman teammates had discussed the upcoming
meeting at lunch. He told them he would not be attending the
meeting, and why. "He's just going to try to piss me off again with his
lies," Marty said, "and I don't want to be there to listen to them."

"I can't believe Steve became a slimy rat and agreed to say that shit
about Marty," Vince said.

"I believe it," Connor said. He used to be friends with Steve and the
sophomore's buddy, Crawford. But he finally got tired of their
hypocrisy. "At least when I act like an asshole, there ain't no doubt
about me being an asshole--everybody knows it. I don't go being all
two-faced and shit and make everybody think I'm better than I am like
those two do."

But even though Connor was an active member in the Go to State
Group, Steve still saw him as a trustworthy ally. Connor did nothing to
discourage that, but Connor knew his real friends were his
teammates.

"Yeah, you believe it because Steve is an asshole. But I didn't think
he was that big an asshole," Rich said

"He is when the coach promises him a varsity position if he went
along with it," Connor said.

"No way Coach Gardner did that," Rich said. The revelation got him
immediately angry.

"According to Crawford he did. Crawford was promised varsity time if
he backed Steve up. What a couple of shit bags."

"What do you think Coach is going to tell us?" Rodney asked.

"He's going to tell you guys to kick me in the balls and leave the Go to
State Team if you want to play, that's what he's going to do," Marty
predicted.

"No way that will happen. We're all going to stick together," Rich said,
not knowing how wrong he was.

It was Vince who brought Rich instantly down to Earth. "I just want to
play baseball," he said.

The meeting in the coach's classroom was what the boys expected.
Coach Gardner laid out his expectations. They could either become a
total part of his program and accept it as it was being run, or they
could opt not to play school ball at all. With turnouts starting in just
over two weeks, they needed to make up their minds quickly. "I think
by Monday you should have a pretty good idea of what you want to
do," the coach told his freshmen. "In case you get any ideas, this is
non-negotiable. Also, if you plan to stick up for Marty, he is not going
to play ball no matter what you all decide, so don't let his position
influence your decision."

"Why can't he play?" Rich asked, getting ready to stand up for his
lover.

"Because he will be a liability to this program. I have it on good
authority he has gone back out drinking and that he is unreliable."

"But that's not true," Rich said. Rich knew better than anybody what
the status of Marty's sobriety was. Coach Gardner had no knowledge
of the deep connection between Marty and Rich.

"I was told this by your fellow students, who have no reason to lie.
Two of them would be his teammates and don't want to see him play
because they feel he can't be trusted. The other is simply a
concerned friend."

Rich was about to object when Connor piped up. "That is a fucking
lie. We all know what the real story is and so do you. We don't need
your fucking mind games."

"I can tell you right now, Connor, that you won't have to worry about
baseball games this spring. I won't be talked to that way. You've
made your decision; you and Marty can spend the spring crying in
your beer."

Connor got out of his desk, threw the desk on its side and stormed
out of the room. Rich, with a look of shock on his face, stood up
quietly and followed him out. Vince, Jerome, and Rodney stayed. The
decisions didn't need to wait until Monday; they had been made on
the spot.

Rich and Connor met up with Marty in the school foyer. Marty had
been chatting with Mike the Donkey and Ryan the Dawg, who were
both seniors. After hearing how the meeting turned out, the Donkey
shook his head.

"Somebody needs a hoofing," he said. "I almost think we'd have been
better off with Coach Collins. I knew Gardner was kind of an
asshole—I did not know he was a total asshole and a complete
loser."

"With Vince, Jerome, and Rodney gone, the Go to State Team could
fall apart," Marty said. "I mean he hasn't even started in on the eighth
graders yet."

"And he won't until the school year is out. I don't think Coach Ecklund
and Coach Sanders will let him push their players around," the
Donkey said. "Especially Coach Sanders, who's put a lot of time into
your group, plus his partner is your summer coach."

"Coach Gardner isn't exactly in your corner either," Rich said.

"Nope, but he knows better than to mess with a Donkey. He can't get
rid of everybody, especially two seniors who started last year and
who are good students and good citizens."

"He could get you because you and the Dawg are gay."

"He could, but he won't. That would get him into deeper shit than
Coach Collins was in."

The discussion was interrupted by the other three freshmen entering
the foyer. Rodney walked up to Marty, looking contrite. "Hey, I'm
really sorry dude. But, like Vince said, we just want to play."

"I thought we were friends," Marty said. He turned around and walked
out. Everybody could see the anger seething in him. Marty knew he
wasn't supposed to hold resentments, that resentments were the
biggest cause of relapse. He knew resentments were based on
expectations. But he also knew that right at that moment, he didn't
have what it took not to harbor a resentment against his three friends
who he had expected to back him up.

<Thursday, February 12, Mayfield High School>

Marty sat with Connor and Rich at one of the lunch tables. With help
from Mr. B and a couple of meetings he'd managed to calm down
over the last week, but it wasn't easy. Coach Gardner, along with
Vince, Jerome, and Rodney still sat at the top of his resentment list.

The Go to State Team, or what was left of it, had met the night
before. Marty's thoughts wandered back to the meeting. He thought
about how the main topic of discussion affected the baseball team.
He knew they had to come up with a plan to reveal what Coach
Gardner was up to. The group had come up with gossip about the
coach, but nobody had a real plan about what to do about it.

All of the eighth graders involved with the group attended that
meeting, along with Justin, Chandler, Korey, and Mikey from the
lower grades. Mr. B, Noah's father, and Hunter's father, who were
three of their adult board advisors, also attended. It was agreed that
the group would continue as it had been and all of the eighth graders
would continue to play for the Falcons, along with some of the
younger players. Those who were not already members would be
invited to join the group. What they didn't know was that the eighth
graders were about to have problems of their own.

"Gardner can't do anything to us until we get to high school," Eric
observed.

"That gives us a year to try to work things out," Mr. B said. "I know
that doesn't help Marty, Connor, and Rich at the moment."

"It's cool," Marty said. "We all need to do what we can to help
everybody against Coach Hitler." Mr. B chided Marty for his choice of
name, but Marty didn't back down.

"I just don't see how he can keep an entire class from playing," Seth
McCall, Noah's father said, referring to the eighth graders.

"If he does, I think the time will come for some parental pressure and
legal action," Mr. B said. "What did your parents say to Coach
Gardner?" he asked Rich.

"That he had no reason to keep me from playing. He told them I
made the choice not to play by walking out of the meeting." Rich took
a deep breath. He did not like being caught in the middle of the
ongoing soap opera, but there didn't seem to be much he could do
about it. He was not about to betray the boy he loved, and his parents
knew it and supported him. "They're going to talk to the AD and to the
principal on Monday, but I think those two will back Coach...," Rich
grinned and said, "...Hitler."

Connor, Rich, and Marty laughed over that while they ate their
lunches. "What's with Gardner and Sara Collins?" Connor asked.

"What do you mean?" Rich asked.

"She's always hanging around him," Connor said. "I saw her all
wrapped around him once out in the parking lot after basketball
practice. She got in the car and rode home with him."

"What were you doing around the school that late? You don't play
hoops," Marty said.

"I was serving my serious detention time," Connor said with a grin. "I
swear I had no idea how my fist made contact with Steve's stomach,
but it did." Rich and Marty both knew that there had been a bit of an
altercation outside of the school on Monday involving Connor and
Steve, and they both knew what it was about.

"You know, now that you mention it, when I had that meeting with
Coach, Sara came into his room while I was leaving and called him
Gary. I was so mad it didn't mean anything to me. But now it does."

"Do you think that maybe Coach is screwing her? And that's why
she's saying whatever he tells her to because he's got a big cock and
she loves taking it?" Connor wondered.

"Damn, you've got a dirty mind, Connor." Rich said. "You think
everything is about sex."

"You mean it isn't? It's sure looking like that with those two."

"If she was, Coach Gardner would be toast, instantly," Marty said.
"Even he's not that stupid. But how do we prove it? And how do we
do it before baseball starts?"

"We have less than two weeks before that happens, not that it affects
us any," Rich said.

"We all know this is a fucking little burg and nothing stays secret
forever. There has to be away to fry his ass," Marty said. Marty was
thinking about what The Schnoz had said, about living in the solution.
This might be exactly the solution they had been looking for.

"Do you mean like you and Rich not being a secret?" Connor said
with a leer.

"Shit. Does everybody know about us?"

"No. Just me and Rodney, and we got no proof. It's all circumcised
evidence," Connor said. "But you two might as well join the Donkey
and the Dawg and come out."

"It's circumstantial evidence," Rich said.

Marty ignored Connor's advice and said, "Whatever. It's just like what
we have on Coach and Sara, circumstantial. Only in our case, we
need some real evidence."

They spent the rest of lunch involved in their own scheming as to how
to procure the evidence they needed. For the first time they talked
about turning their fate over to the adults on the Team's board. But as
much as they liked and respected those adults, they wanted to decide
their own fates. They just needed to find a way to do it. What they
didn't know was that fate was about to step in and give them some
much needed help.

Next: A Matter of Integrity