Date: Wed, 11 Nov 2009 06:45:47 -0800 (PST)
From: Kevin Carson <kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Drummer Boys - Part 46

Drummer Boys
By Kevin Carson

Hi, I'm Kevin and this story is about my relationship with my
more-than-a-friend and, well, much, much more-than-a-jack-off buddy.  Yes,
it includes gay teen sex stuff.  Lots of it!  It's based on true
experiences but some of the names and places have been changed for privacy.
Hey, if this is illegal where you're at or if you're too young to be
reading this, then you better not.  Getting in trouble isn't cool.  All
rights reserved.  No reproductions permitted without prior permission from
me, Kevin.  I'm the only one.  ©2009.

I would like to express my sincere thanks and heartfelt gratitude to
everyone who has written to me about this story.  I really appreciate your
comments, feedback and questions.  My email is: kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com.

Sincerely,
-kevin.

Part 46.

When I say I fell asleep, I really mean it.  I was dead to the world, right
there on the couch in the Graham's family room.  For days, everyone had
been trying to tell me I was exhausted, but I just didn't want to admit it.
Deep down, though, I knew they were right.  I kept denying it, foolishly
thinking that "I'll feel better tomorrow."  Haha... "Denial."  What a joke.

I really needed the sleep, just like everyone said.  I don't know why I
fight it so much.  Sometimes, I have a hard time facing reality, even when
it hits me in the face.  But yeah, I was knocked out, like unconscious or
something, like I was on an anesthetic.  I sure hope I wasn't talking in my
sleep!  And, I don't even remember dreaming about Mark, but I guess I was
because there was plenty of drool on my lips and cheek when I woke up.  And
speaking of that, I did wake up sometime during the night and went to the
bathroom, the one that's between their kitchen and family room.  Damn, I
sure hope no one heard me!

After I pissed, I staggered upstairs into Mark's room and crawled into bed
with him, but he didn't budge.  So I curled up next to him and drifted back
off to sleep again in a matter of seconds.  It's a rare occasion when Mark
and I are in the same bed and don't fool around!

And in the morning, we both started to wake up at the same time.  Oh, the
sounds and smells of waking up!  Like morning breath!  And the "stinky
teenage boy smell" Mrs. Graham always talks about, especially when she
says, "Boys just can't leave their penises alone, can they?  They're always
touching them."  I overheard her saying that to Mrs. Eckert once, but she
doesn't know I was listening.  Haha, but I was!

Then, there's Mark scratching himself, like he always does in the morning.
Fingernails grazing bare skin!  We both stretched and yawned several times,
rolled over, smiled, and touched each other teasingly.  No body part was
excluded in the touching, by the way!  We lay side by side, staring at the
ceiling, boxers somewhat disarranged, and our legs partly covered by the
sheet.  "Dude, I gotta get up!" Mark exclaimed.  "I gotta piss like a
racehorse!"  He bolted for the bathroom.

"Wait a minute!" I whisper-shouted.  "I was gonna help you scratch
your... whatever-itches!"

Mark flashed his usual big toothy grin and reminded me, "Dude, I said... I
gotta piss!  When I get back you can gladly scratch my balls!"

"That's a deal, mister!!"

We were both pretty well-rested.  I know for sure that I was, because for
once, I did in fact get more than a few hours of sleep.  When we finally
got up for real, the house was quiet.  He yelled for his mom and Lisa, but
no one answered, and the cars were gone.  "Haha, I think we're alone now!"

Tuesday was the day to do nothing but chill, so we just hung out most of
the morning.  And, since nobody was home at the Graham household, except
for Mark and me, we sat around in our underwear for a while.  Well, OK, we
didn't just "sit around" in our underwear... we eventually took everything
off.  And, well, we fooled around a little, too.  OK, OK!!  Not a
little... a LOT!!  And that was BEFORE lunch!  Haha, our little guilty
pleasure!

I seriously wanted to make Mark squirm and moan and beg and sweat, so I
did.  And I couldn't wait to make him cum.  I did that, too!!  I took
control for a change, and started kissing and licking my guy from top to
bottom.  And when I say bottom, I mean BOTTOM!!!  I softly bit his sweet
nipples, swirling my tongue around each one, then licked my way down his
abs to his belly button.  I got that nice and wet, too!  Soon I was face to
face with his delicious rock-hard boner, which kept rubbing against my
cheeks and neck.  Mark was leaking a healthy dose of precum, too, so that
was getting all over me as well.  Lovin' it!!!!

I lightly ran my fingertips through his pubes, all the while continuing to
sniff as I licked, kissed and nibbled.  I teased his balls with my tongue
and took each one of them in my mouth individually.  I had to be careful
not to hurt him.  It's funny... he laid there and let me do anything I
wanted to him.  And I didn't mind one bit.  I knew it would be my turn
soon.  I waited as long as I could, but I couldn't resist having his big
slippery, throbbing prong down my throat.  We reversed positions so that I
was lying on my back and he knelt over me, gently forcing his hard dick
past my lips.  I was semi-conscious, I swear, but I do remember him
reaching behind to "check out" my pulsing hard meat as well.

"Mmmm!  Sweetie!!!  I think I'm wanting that!!"

And somewhere during all of this I managed to lick the middle finger on my
left hand stuck it in Mark's waiting pink hole as far as I could.  Every
chance I got I worked my finger in and out.  The slipperier the better!  I
swear, my finger goes in his ass like it's a bowling ball.  And it felt
sooooo warm!  Haha, makes me tingle just thinking about it.

Again we reversed positions, all the while my middle finger was still deep
in his asshole.  This time we were on the home-stretch, as I knelt between
his spread-apart legs.  I furiously bobbed up and down on his dripping
cock, concentrating on the head with my lips and tongue, and jacking him
off at the same time using my thumb and index finger around the lower part
of his rod.  I'd slow-up, then start again, and soon his stomach muscles
began to tighten.  We both knew it was time.  He shouted, "Oh God I'm gonna
cum!!  Oh Oh Oh OHHHHH!!!!!! OHHHHH!!!! FUCK!!!!"  His butthole squeezed my
finger with each creamy blast.  His semen was mixed with my spit, and I let
some of it drip out of my mouth, but I swallowed the rest.  Poor guy.  The
head of his dick was so sensitive, he begged me to stop sucking on it and
rubbing it.  I will tell you, I did not exactly honor his request!  But,
eventually, I took one long last lick and slowly pulled my finger out of
his hot hole.

After only a few minutes of rest, we were at it again.  My turn!!  Mark
momentarily went soft, but got hard again soon and he put his face on my
stomach and watched me stroke my own hard pole.  He played with my balls as
I jacked myself, then put my legs up to my chest so he could work on my
ass.  He finger-fucked me and continued to play with my balls, sometimes
kissing them.  He also massaged the area between my asshole and nut sac,
and he really got excited when that area started to throb and pulse when I
shot my wad.

"My God, Kev!" he giggled.  "You got it on my chin and everywhere!"

I was totally out of breath.  "It's all your fault!"

Actually, we both did our share of squirming and twisting and screaming,
all leading to those few seconds of total erotic madness.  And we laughed
at ourselves, drenched with sweat... and cum!

Mark and I kind-of took our time pulling ourselves together after our
Tuesday morning romp!  We sorta worked up an appetite, so we finally had
something to eat, then showered and got dressed.  We had enough of being in
the house, since it was such a nice day and all, so we decided to head out
for a while, walking.  Who knew we'd be we'd be heading into a week full of
surprises and adventures.  And answers.

First, we went to King Kullen so Mark could pick up his paycheck.  We also
bought candy and sodas, as if we needed that kind of shit.  Bring on the
sugar-high!!  This old hag named Hilda, who's in charge of customer
service, asked Mark if he could work later that afternoon, like from 4 to
7pm.

"Alright, Hilda.  If you really need me, I will."

We sipped our Mountain Dews as we walked out of King Kullen, and I
mentioned to Mark that I thought that Hilda woman seems like she's mean.
"Are you afraid of her?" I asked.

"Nah... she's pretty cool once you get used to her.

"Yeah, but that big round silvery-purple hairdo of hers... it looks like a
giant Easter egg on top of her head.  She'd really score points with the
Easter bunny." I joked.

"Umm, sweetie... her last name is Katzenmeyer.  I don't think she does
Easter."

"Oops!  Sorry!"  I felt like a dumbass, and our giggling continued as we
walked toward the high school.  Until my phone buzzed.  It was my
grandfather.

"Got a second, Kevin?"

"Yeah, sure Grandpa.  What's up?  Is everything OK?"  I was curious as to
why he was home so early on a Tuesday afternoon.

"Your grandmother wants the kitchen painted, so I'm taking the rest of the
week off.  I was wondering if you might have a little time later this
afternoon to stop by.  I need some help moving a few things around."

"No problem, Grandpa.  Mark and I are on our way to the high school, and
then I'll be over after that, like around 3:30-ish... is that OK?"

"Perfect.  I'll see you then, son."

That'll work out great since I feel I owe my grandfather big-time for
getting me those Mets tickets.  If I can help him out with something, I'm
all over it.  And besides, Mark will be working, so I knew I'd have a
little time to kill.

When we got to the school I noticed Ms. Kirsch's car in the faculty lot.  I
wasn't sure if Mr. Hartman, the assistant principal, was there, and I
didn't want to take any chances running into that crusty old fucker, so I
tried to stay under the radar.  I knew if I did see that son-of-a-bitch and
he started any shit, Ms. Kirsch would have my back.  I could count on her
to protect me.  Although I was in a good mood, I still kept my guard up.

First, we dropped off some forms in the music office that were needed for
band, then Mark had to do something in the scheduling office about one of
his classes.  While he was doing that I waited outside in the hall.  Right
next to the scheduling office is the athletic office, and in between them
are restrooms and a drinking fountain.  There weren't many people around,
but occasionally a student, parent or teacher would come and go, so I
wasn't paying much attention.  Still, because of that good night's rest, I
was fully alert!!

I was sorta thirsty waiting for Mark, so I got a drink from the fountain,
and while my back was turned, I heard an all-too-familiar voice.  Believe
me, it wasn't Townsend talking to me this time.  Not then, anyway.  And it
certainly was not a voice I wanted to hear... it was that bone-chilling,
blood-curdling voice... the one that sends shivers up my spine and makes
the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.  It's the voice that has
pushed me past the boundaries of hatred... the voice that made me have to
do things I never should have had to do... the voice that forced me to say
things I never wanted to say... to tell things I wasn't ready to tell.  You
know who I mean!  It was Emily DeMarco!  The bitch who tried to tear my
life apart last year, piece by piece.

"Hi Kevin.  I thought that was you."

OH.  MY.  GOD.

I almost choked on my drink of water.  I spit it out, stood straight up and
turned around, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.  While Emily had
been out of the picture for most of the summer, somewhere in the back of my
mind I guess I knew I'd have to deal with her again, sooner or later.  I
knew it.  But not having her around for a while... well, it was good while
it lasted.

I thought I had gotten rid of her at the end of the school year, with
Keith's help, of course, or so I thought.  But not long after that is when
all of the crap with Marcie Lamson happened.  One evil bitch seemingly goes
away and another one walks into my life, uninvited.  Then, the shit with
Marcie gets dealt with and I think I'm free and clear, and what happens??
It's Emily again.  But I was in for another surprise.  Yes, it sounded like
Emily, and it definitely was her, but the person speaking sure didn't look
like the same Emily!

I looked all around, from side to side.  I looked for Mark, but he was
nowhere in sight.  Fuck.  Of course, the very second Emily shows up no one
is around.  Where the fuck was the occasional student or parent walking by
now?  If there was going to be a confrontation, I needed a witness, no
matter who it was, stranger or not!  Just hearing her voice again made me
want to throw up.  God help me.

Somehow, I quickly got it together.  "Emily??" I wondered.  "Is that you???
What happened to you???"

I can't believe I said the "what happened to you" part.  It was kind-of
rude, I guess, but I was totally caught off guard by her appearance.  Let
me tell you... the person whose voice I just heard was a completely
different looking Emily DeMarco.  But yes, it was definitely Emily and not
another case of mistaken identity this time!

"I know, Kevin... I guess I do look sorta different now."

"Umm... yeah... like, Oh my God!!"

"It's been a long summer." She sorta smiled.

"But... what... happened??"  I was so stunned by how different she looked,
I forgot all about what a fucking cunt she is, and after my initial semi-
rudeness, I actually found myself being somewhat civil to her.  I mean,
this wasn't anything remotely close to the day last fall when I literally
ran into her in the cafeteria.  You remember that day.  She was such a
clumsy-ass, tripping over her own fucking crutches with her god-damned foot
in a cast or whatever it was, and she tried like hell to blame it all on
me.  And old Mr. Hartman believed her.  God, what a day.  And he continued
to believe her lies, waaaay after the first incident.  Can I ever get past
either of those two people, Emily and Mr. Hartman?  Will I ever be able to
forgive them?

"First, Kevin, I'm glad I ran into you.  I mean, I wasn't out hunting for
you, but I thought I saw you and Mark walking in, and well, I guess this is
as good a time as any... "

"As good a time as any for what??" I snapped.

"To apologize to you."

"What do you mean... apologize??"  I still couldn't believe how her looks
had changed.  I mean, I was totally stunned... I mean, like, tasered.

"I've done some real soul-searching this summer, and I know I was so unfair
to you last year.  I've been seeing a therapist to help me deal with
things, I guess stuff you don't know about with me.  I don't want to go
into all of that at the moment, but, I just want to tell you I was wrong,
the way I treated you, and I'm sorry.  I really mean it."

"You mean, the way you MIS-treated me!" I snarled.  "This is some kind of
trick, isn't it?  You're being all nice and stuff right now, but why?"  The
initial shock and awe of hearing Emily's voice again momentarily went away,
and while trying to process how her looks had changed, I was understandably
very skeptical.  I just wasn't ready to accept all of this, not so fast,
not so soon.

"For one thing, Kevin, I'm here to turn in my forms for cheerleading, so
hopefully I can be more social, and make some friends.  And I'm trying to
feel better about myself.  I've lost twenty-two pounds just since the end
of school!"

"I can tell... you look great!"

I can't believe I'd just given her a compliment.  But she did look great.
It was amazing.  The weight loss was really noticeable, and she got a new
shorter, straighter "do"... no more "Roseanne Roseannadanna" look-alike.

"And I also go to a dermatologist now.  I'm getting laser hair removal!"
She seemed very proud of that fact.

"OK, Emily, that's like waaay too much information... I don't need to know
all the personal details.  That's your business."  I could tell she was
getting some kind of cosmetic something-or-other done because there's no
more hairy lip!  I gotta admit, Emily looked sorta nice!  I NEVER thought
I'd say that!!

"I know I can't expect much from you, Kevin.  I mean I wouldn't blame you
if you turned your back and wouldn't speak to me..."

"Yeah, you know, I am kind-of wondering about this, Emily.  I mean,
like... if you hadn't just happened to run into me right now, when would
have said all of this to me??  I was starting to sound a little pissed-off.
"I mean, what were you planning?  A surprise attack??  Like, some big
performance again in the cafeteria, on the first day of school??"

"No, Kevin, I wasn't going to do anything like that.  I have changed,
really... I have."

I took a deep breath.  I was still wary of her motives.  As unsettling as
it was to see Emily again – let alone having a real conversation with
her – I also found myself wanting to believe her.  I sorta realized
that, if I was ever gonna move on from all of this shit with her, I might
have to accept her apology.  Not seeing her or having her torment me over
the last couple of months was really just a temporary fix.  Granted, Keith
took care of a lot the last day of school when he intervened as she and I
had that big blow-up.  I'm sure he put one hell of a scare in her, but that
wasn't the real end of it all.

"I don't know about all of this, Emily.  How do I know if I can trust you?
And even if... why SHOULD I trust you?  All of your lies... how mean you
were.  You're right... you should expect NOTHING from me!"

I wanted Nora's opinion... I wanted to know what Keith would think... and
what Mark would say about all of this.  Most of all, I needed Dad to tell
me what to do.  But I was gonna have to do this on my own since none of
them were around at that particular moment.  But in a way, someone else
was.  I heard that other familiar voice... another one that I desperately
wanted to hear... that little whisper from above.

"Psst... hey Rim-shot... whatcha gonna do?  Do you believe her?  I know
you're shocked, but I think she's being honest.  Haha, I never thought this
would happen, but, dude, it seems like she's telling you the truth, about
being sorry.  I'm just keeping it real for ya, Rim-shot.  I think you
should accept her apology..."

"So Kevin... can you ever believe me when I say I'm sorry?" Emily asked.
"I know it's a lot, but will you forgive me?"

I stood there, thinking, trying to process all of this.  Although I knew
things weren't over with her, I never could have predicted this would have
happened... that she was now someone who looked likeable, and was
apologizing to me, admitting she was wrong.  I thought and thought, and
came to the only conclusion I could.  Emily didn't know it, but I responded
to both her, and to Townsend, at the same time.  "I have to," I answered.
"It's the only way."

Although I knew what I had to do, relying solely on my own gut feeling and,
of course, Townsend's "advice," I'd still have to explain what just
happened to the remaining four most important people in my life: Mark, Dad,
Keith and Nora.

Emily smiled for real this time, and so did I.  She sure was a different
Emily!  That was the first time I ever really saw her smile.  "So, can we
talk more, later, Kevin?"

"Well, wait a minute, Emily.  I said I'd accept your apology, but I don't
know if we're gonna start hanging out or anything," I sorta laughed,
skeptically.  "It's gonna take some time.  You know, this hit me like a ton
of bricks."

"I know, Kevin.  I get it.  But, maybe we can be friends."

"I dunno, Emily... friends???"

"Psst... Rim-shot!  Go easy, dude!  Slow your roll.  Just tell her maybe
someday you can be friends, if the Lord's willing!  Haha, that's what I
always say."  I swear, it seemed like Townsend was sitting on my shoulder,
whispering in my ear!

"Well, I guess maybe we can talk," I paused for a moment.  "And I'll tell
you what.  Let's just say we'll be friendly to each other, and see where it
leads, OK?" I suggested, with a little kick in the butt from Townie.  "And
then, m-m-maybe someday, we can become friends... i-i-if the Lord's
willing..."

Emily looked serious.  "Fair enough, Kevin!"  She smiled and nodded.  But
before she walked away, she turned and said, "And by the way... that sounds
like something Townsend Miller would have said."

"Yeah..." I smiled.

WOW.  What the fuck just happened???

Are the surprises ever gonna stop?  Who would have thought that Emily
DeMarco would have changed that much, in such a short time?  I dunno, I
still had my reservations about her.  Maybe it's just me, but I knew it
would take me awhile to get used to this big "change" with her, and how
suddenly, over the summer, she's made this transformation from "bad witch"
to "good witch."  But I had to do something.  I had to make a decision
right then and there, without Dad or Keith or Nora or Mark.  I had to trust
myself... and of course that strong dose of advice from Townsend helped.
That's what I relied on, and I think it's gonna be OK.

Emily disappeared in the athletic office, and I walked outside to get some
desperately needed fresh air.  I couldn't wait to tell Mark about what just
happened with her, so I could see the look on his face.  A few minutes
later he came out and saw me waiting outside.

"Dude, you're never gonna believe what just happened!" I said excitedly,
talking as we walked.  "Guess who I saw?"

"I dunno, sweetie.  You got me..."

"Emily!  Emily DeMarco!!  And she's had this total makeover!!!  She is
comPLETEly different, like she lost weight and got her hair restyled, and
she's seeing a shrink... and get this... SHE SAID SHE'S SORRY!!!!"

"OK, you gotta be shittin' me... Emily DeMarco said she's sorry??  She
would NEVER apologize."

"Seriously.  I was getting a drink of water and I thought I'd die when I
heard her say "hi" to me, but when I turned around I had to do a
double-take."

"So... what did you do?"

"Mark, I accepted her apology.  I know, I know, I know... it was probably
stupid of me, but I just figured I had to do that in order to move on.  I
wish you and Nora and my Dad and brother had been there, but, you weren't,
so I made the decision on my own... sort-of.  Actually, I think our
guardian angel might have had something to do with it.  But anyway, you can
kill me if you want, but I told her I wasn't exactly ready to be all
buddy-buddy, but we can be civil to each other, and she said fine."

"Actually, Kev, I think you did the right thing," Mark smiled, with all of
his usual smoothness and reassurance.  "So... our guardian angel, huh?"

"Yeah, Mark, it sure was.  It was OUR guardian angel."

I love Mark, and we both know who our guardian angel is.  We didn't have to
say his name, we just know.  In fact, we all know.  He's the sun shining
through a window.  And we think about him every single day.

It was already around 3:30, so Mark and I had to haul ass so he could get
to work by 4:00.  But we got lucky.  We spotted my brother and Lisa driving
past and they gave us a ride.  We dropped Mark off first, then Keith took
me to our grandparent's.  He and Lisa went in, just for a minute, to say
hello.

"Where's Grandma?" Keith asked.

"She took Aunt Laura and your cousins shopping for school.  They're making
a big deal out of Robbie starting first grade."

I swear our cousin Robbie is worse than Dylan Eckert.  They ALWAYS make
such a big fucking deal out of that little shit, I guess because he's the
youngest of all the grandchildren.  Hell, it's only first grade and they
act like it's his first year at Fordham or something.  Anyway, my brother
told me to call him if I wanted a ride home, then he and Lisa left.

"Grandpa, I'll make a deal with you.  How 'bout if I do the painting for
you?  I won't charge you a cent," I offered.  "It's my way of paying you
back for the Mets tickets."

"Nonsense!  I'll let you do the painting, but I'll pay you.  The word on
the street is that you're pretty good, and you have lots of experience!" he
laughed.  "Now, I told you not to worry about those baseball tickets.  And
that's that!"

My grandfather knows I'm a hard worker, and a very careful, meticulous
painter.  He and my grandmother can count on me to do an excellent job!  We
talked as we moved the table and chairs and all the other stuff out of the
way.  I assured him since band practice is only during the mornings the
rest of this week, I'd have plenty of time to help with the painting in the
afternoons.

When the kitchen was completely emptied, I couldn't help but notice the
wall under the windows, behind where the kitchen table sits.  This was the
very room where Dad and Uncle Tom got in that fist-fight when they were
teenagers.  And even though my grandfather did an excellent job filling in
the hole with new drywall and smoothing out the plaster, I could still
sorta tell where the damage had been.  Most people would probably never
know there had once been a big-ass hole there, but I could tell.  I knew
the spot.

The phone rang and Grandpa took the call in another room, so I was alone in
the empty kitchen for a few minutes.  I knelt down on the floor and ran my
hands over the repair he'd made more than twenty-five years ago, and it
brought a tear to my eye.  All I kept hearing over and over again in my
mind was Dad telling Keith and me how they left the hole there for a long
time "as a reminder of the behavior that put it there."  But what's more
important, I thought, isn't so much that Dad and his brother fucked up the
wall... it's WHY they got in the fight in the first place.  That's the
important thing... the REASON they were fighting, and the person they were
fighting about.  Remember, it all started when Uncle Tom was breaking Dad's
balls about the girl next door.

Just as Grandpa hung up the phone, he walked in the kitchen and noticed me,
crouched down on my knees.  "Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Just checking out this place in the wall that you fixed, Grandpa.  You
know, the big hole that Dad and Uncle Tom made when they got in that
fist-fight a long time ago."

"Oh yes, THAT fight!  There were only a few times Kenny and Tommy got
rowdy, and that was one of them.  But it's all taken care of now Kevin.
It's been patched up and painted over so many times since then."

That's when I realized that sometimes – once in a while – good things
can happen when brothers fight.

I thought I'd better call Keith for that ride home he promised, but first I
asked if there was any more that needed to be done.

"Well Grandpa, is there anything else I can help with while I'm here?"

"No, son, I guess that's it for today.  We'll start painting the ceiling
and trim tomorrow."

Just as I started to call Keith, Grandma came home.  She gave me a big hug
and invited me to stay for dinner, and wouldn't take "no" for an answer.
"We're having pork chops – one of your favorites – and there's
plenty.  I'd love for your Dad and brother to come too."

"Really, Grandma, it's OK..." But it was no use.  She called Dad, and he
and Keith were on their way over within minutes.

However, from that point on, it was all blah blah blah about my aunt and
cousins and their shopping trip.  I was nice to my grandmother, but really,
I got tired of hearing all about them, so I tried to tune her out.  I was
lost in thought, still wondering what that day was like... the day Dad and
Uncle Tom got in the fight.  Oh, I know the story of what happened –
everyone's version is pretty much the same, no matter who tells it.  But it
was life-changing.  Keith and I owe our very existence to that fight... and
to that hole in the wall.  Grandma got the pork chops in the oven (hers are
the best!) and I wandered around their house as I, often do, just checking
out the rooms.

We ate out on the deck since the kitchen was torn up. "It's too nice of a
day to eat in the dining room," my grandmother decided.  During dinner, I
had to bring up the subject of Dad and Uncle Tom getting in their famous
fight...

"And if that fight wasn't enough, Kenneth, you took your younger brother
into New York two days later, without our knowledge or permission!" Grandpa
laughed, pointing his finger at Dad.  "Your mother was so pissed!"

"I was worried sick about you two!" Grandma teasingly reprimanded my
father, like he was that tall, thin, dark-haired teenager all over again.
Keith and I looked at each other and giggled.  Haha, I was shocked that
Grandpa said "pissed."

"The truth is all out in the open now, Dad." Keith teased.

"Now, listen... all of you," Dad said firmly, but with a grin.  "Tommy and
I hardly ever got in trouble, but the fight he and I had was started
equally by both of us... I admit.  But the trip into the city... that was
NOT my idea at all... Tommy and "You-Know-Who" put me up to it... they
egged me on!"

"Well, Kenneth, I know that's what you've been telling us all these years!"
Grandpa shot back skeptically, but in a playful way.

"That's my story, Pop, and I'm sticking to it!"  Dad insisted.  "But, I
know, ultimately I was responsible.  I'm the older brother, and I guess I
always will be."  There was still just a slight hint of mischief and
rebellion in Dad's recollection of their brief streak of trouble.  "We sure
did have fun that day, though, Tommy and me.  It was quite an adventure!"

That made us all laugh, even my grandparents.  Case closed!

The pork chops were delicious, by the way, and after dinner Keith and I
helped clean up.  Grandma served some cookies that she had bought, and
everyone sat the living room while she and Grandpa told more stories about
when Dad, Uncle Tom and Aunt Laura were growing up.

"All three of you loved books, and I encouraged you to read.  Your sister
was always so happy when you'd read to her, Kenneth.  You were a good big
brother to her... very protective."

"I remember reading "Where the Wild Things Are" to her all the time," Dad
laughed.  "It was her favorite book when she was about eight years old.
And I've read it to the boys a million times, too."

"I heard they're making it into a movie now, with all kinds of special
effects and an all-star cast," Keith added.  "I guess it'll be coming out
in a few years."

"So when it does you'll have to take Laura to see it.  Even though you're
adults now, she's still your favorite little sister." Grandma commanded.

Dad laughingly rolled his eyes.  "And that's because she's my ONLY little
sister!"

My Dad and grandparents were still talking, so I went outside and walked
around their backyard... admiring how there isn't a blade of grass out of
place and how the flowers all smell so good.  The tall, forbidding maple
trees are too big to climb now, but the treehouse is still there.  I
thought to myself how much fun it must have been for Dad, Uncle Tom and
Aunt Laura growing up there, even though we have a great backyard too.  I
stood by the white picket fence that separates my grandparent's yard from
what used to be my other grandparent's yard, and closed my eyes.  They were
next-door neighbors, you know, until my other grandparents downsized and
moved into a condo a few years ago.

My mind took me back to a time that Keith and I have heard so much about,
so often... a time in years past that we never actually experienced
ourselves.  That's because we weren't even thought of yet.  Then again, in
a way, maybe we were.  It was just the beginning.

I could envision the tall, slender, dark-haired teenager standing in the
very spot I was standing in, by the white picket fence, talking to the girl
next door... that the cute, sizzling blond he thought was "special."  He
was about as old as I am now, maybe a little taller, his hair a little
longer.  After all, it was the late 70's then!  He was sort-of athletic,
but not exactly a jock... a straight-A student, but not quite a nerd.  He
was a real 'Topher Grace' type.

Then, his younger brother – a boy about thirteen or fourteen – joined
them in the backyard.  "Hey Karyn!  Hey Kenny!  Whatcha guys doin'?"

"We're just talking... so you can get lost now, Tommy!" the older brother
said, sort-of jokingly.

"Go easy on him, Kenny.  Be a nice guy!"  The girl next door was equally as
smart and extremely self-assured.  "I heard about the fight you two got
into yesterday and how you put Tommy's head through the wall."

"I don't wanna talk about it.  And it wasn't his head.  It was a chair.
And he's the one who knocked into it.  But I don't wanna talk about it."

"Sounds like you owe him!"

"Why??  He started it!"  They all kinda laughed.  "Besides, I said I'm
sorry."

"Yeah, Kenny, and you also said you'd make it up to me!  Remember??!!"

"You ought to make it up to him by taking him on an adventure!" the girl
next door suggested.

"Like, what do you mean?  What kind of adventure??"

"I don't know... maybe you could go into the city... check out the museums
or go to someplace cool like FAO Schwartz.  It isn't that far from Central
Park," she chuckled.

"I think we're a little past buying toys for each other," he laughed.  It
was all in fun.

"Can we go??!!" the younger brother couldn't hold his excitement.  "Please,
Kenny, Please??!!"

"Yeah, you saw how Mom and Pop flipped out because of our fight, so you can
imagine what they'd do if we went into the city by ourselves.  If they find
out, they'll kill us for sure!"

"Well, guys... whatever you do... have fun!  I gotta go... I'm late for my
piano lesson."  Then the blond-haired girl next door went inside, leaving
the two neighbor boys to make up their own minds about the promised
adventure...

I was pulled back into the present by the sounds of my brother telling me
it was time to go home.  "Little Dude... come on... we gotta go!"

We all said our "thank you's" and "goodbye's" and praised grandma for the
delicious pork chops.  On the way home Dad thanked me for offering to help
my grandparents with painting their kitchen.

"It was my idea, Dad.  I feel like I owe it to Grandpa because he hooked me
up with those tickets."

"Well, he doesn't feel that way, that you owe it to him.  But he's glad
you're doing it.  And I sure do appreciate it, too."

"You're just glad it's me up on the ladder instead of you!" I teased.

When we got home, Keith went up to his room and I continued to talk to my
father.  "Dad, I need to tell you about something else that happened today.
Nothing bad... just a little weird, I guess."  That's when I told him all
about seeing Emily, and her apology.  He was astounded.

"I think you handled it well, Kevin.  It sounds like it all of just came
out of nowhere... her makeover, her attitude change, the apology.  What
gives?"

"I thought about it, and I think she really means it, that she's sorry.  I
really never did anything to her, Dad.  She made it all up last fall, and
she bugged the crap out of me all year.  And Mr. Hartman took her side..."

"But it all worked out, son."

"Yeah, but my life was a living hell.  I couldn't have handled it without
you, Dad.  I really mean that."

"Well, Kev... it's important that you try to see the good.  You learned
some things about life, and about people... and more importantly, you
learned some things about yourself.  It forced you to come to terms with
something deeply personal to you, and it brought us closer together.
You're a better man, and I'm proud of the way you handled it... all year,
and especially today."

My Dad didn't have to say all of that, you know.  But it sure as fuck was
comforting to hear.  And that's when I knew I would never leave him, for no
one.

Even though it was getting sorta late, I wanted to call Mark just to say
goodnight before I went to bed.  Plus, I was excited about band practice
the next morning, and about painting at my grandparent's in the afternoon.
Mark said he'd pick me up at 7:30 sharp, and I better be ready.

"Don't worry, dude.  I'll jerk off AFTER practice!"

"Or... during!" he laughed.

"Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, sweetie."

"Luvya!"

"Luvya, too!"

I tossed and turned in bed and couldn't fall asleep.  AGAIN!  Maybe I had
gotten too much rest the night before.  Maybe I was just too keyed-up about
everything else... but that's normal for me.  I got up and noticed Dad's
door was partly open, so I went in.  He was in bed, reading.  My Dad has
lots of books, all over the house, including a bookcase in his bedroom.  We
made a little small talk, and he suggested I try reading, too, that maybe
it would make me drowsy.

"Your grandmother's right... reading is a good thing, and if nothing else,
it might help you fall asleep," Dad advised.  "You're welcome to take any
book you want... it's your pick."

I looked through a few of the titles, but nothing seemed interesting.
"Well... what's your favorite book, Dad?"

He smiled, and was quick to answer.  "I'd have to say, it's "The Catcher in
the Rye" by J.D. Salinger."

"Really??  It's on the required list for Honors Readers this year.  Can I
borrow it?"

"Sure you can!"  He reached in his nightstand drawer and handed me the
hardback copy.  "It's funny, Kev.  I had to read it in high school, too.  I
let someone borrow the old, worn out paperback I had back
then... literally, it was ripped to shreds."

"I know it's a really great book.  I checked out some of it last year when
Mark was reading it for English.  But this year I have to really read it
– and know it."  Dad sat in bed, smiling at me as I continued to ramble
on.  "You know, Dad, how Mark is usually always smooth and calm and really
has his act together?  Well, this one day last winter, right before
Christmas, we were going someplace special, really special, but I didn't
know everywhere we were going at the time, just one of the places, but I
knew something was up because he was all jumpy and nervous, and he was
acting just like Holden Caulfield, in the book, and I told him so!  I don't
think it phased him one bit!"

"Oh... I see." Dad listened.

I was thinking of the day when Mark and I were on our way to his grandpa's
cabin and we took that special little side-trip to the Empire State
Building!  "Actually, Dad, I'm probably more like Holden than Mark is, a
bit of a spazz, don't you think?"

"Um... well... maybe just a little... once in a while..."  Dad smiled, and
so did I.

"Well, thanks for letting me borrow this.  Now I can get a head start on
it."

"Just be careful with this book.  It was a gift to me from someone very
special."

"From who??  Aunt Laura?"

"No, no no.  It wasn't from Aunt Laura." He didn't elaborate any further.

"OK, Dad.  Well... goodnight.  And I'll be very careful with the book."

When I got back in bed, I turned on my reading lamp and anxiously opened
the cover.  Three guesses who the special person was who gave that book to
my Dad.  I didn't read any of it that night, I just held it close to me and
fell asleep.  I knew right then that "The Catcher in the Rye" was going to
be my favorite book, too.

I have to say, I did, in fact, get another good night's rest after all.
Wow!  Two nights in a row!  And I sprang out of bed at 7:00 AM sharp,
showered, got dressed, actually had breakfast and was waiting for Mark to
pick me up at 7:30.  He was on time, too, and we got to the school just
before 8:00.  As usual, there was a little confusion and some new, strange
faces.  It was funny how the kids who are a year younger than me, who I
basically hadn't seen since middle school, were now freshmen.  Haha, I felt
so much older!  And important!

While the assistant band directors were checking everyone in and getting
things organized, Mr. Walters asked Mark, Eric and me to see him in his
office.

"Boys, I want you to know I've made an important decision regarding the
drum section," he said quietly, but with his usual firmness, and
definition.  "It's just the three of you this year on snare.  You are the
most qualified... the best drummers I've ever had in my eleven years
teaching here.  I believe you can handle it, leading this drum squad."

When he told us what the plan was for this year, well, I admit, it was
quite a shocker, at first.  One more big surprise to come my way.

"But, Mr. Walters," I asked, "Didn't you audition anyone else?  I mean,
it's always been four..."

"Kevin, yes, we did audition at a lot of kids.  And yes, there are some
other good drummers out there... even a couple of incoming freshmen who
have been playing for quite a while and taking private lessons, just like
you."

"But, I don't understand..." Mark wondered...

"And won't the line be uneven?" Eric butted in.  "Every line has eight
across... I mean, What's the deal?  We'll just have Mark, Kevin and me on
snare, plus the two cymbals and two bell players... our line will only have
seven..."

"Yes, Eric, I'm well aware of that.  It's because I've decided not to
replace Townsend Miller this year."

We weren't dumb.  I think we knew all along that was what Mr. Walters was
getting at.  I never expected it, though.  I mean, I never would have
predicted it, and I never would have suggested it.  But as we all sat there
in a state of sadness and silence, we got it.  We understood.

But it brought back so many memories.  Just one year ago, before I started
in band, I didn't really know Townsend, just like I didn't really know Mark
and Eric, either.  I mean, I knew who he was and all, and I guess because
Keith is so popular, and has so many friends, you just hear about different
people, all the time.  You sorta know what they look like or hear a story
or two about them.  And that was the case with Townie.  He had a
reputation... not a bad one at all, and even though he and Keith never
really hung out a lot, they sorta ran in the same circle of friends.  And
then, when I came along, I sorta became part of that circle, too... I had
replaced a senior from the drumline who graduated, and I was very lucky and
honored that Townsend and Eric and Mark all welcomed me into the
brotherhood of the drummerboys without question, without hesitation.  And
look where it led.  Just one fast, short year ago.

One of Mr. Walters' new assistants, Mr. Sanger, was going to be coaching
the drum crew this year, so we had some additional practices away from the
rest of the band.  I must admit, I was a little nervous at first.  I
wondered how Mr. Walters was going to explain his decision not to have a
fourth snare drummer this year to the rest of the band.  What if some of
the parents objected?  What if they thought it was unfair?  You know, there
are a lot of "my-kid's-better-than-your-kid" parents around here.  I swear,
the parents are more competitive than the kids.  If you think the soccer
parents are something, the band parents are even worse!  I could just
imagine some of them complaining to Mr. Hartman.  I told Mark and Eric
about my worries, and they both said if anyone did bitch about it to
Mr. Hartman, that Mr. Davis, the principal, would step in and back
Mr. Walters.

"Davis doesn't mess around, and he's pretty fair, Kev."

"Yeah, let's hope that Mr. Hartman doesn't get involed.  We all know how
that old fucker can be."

"I wouldn't be concerned about it.  I hear Hartman's on his way out anyway.
I guess this is going to be his last year." Eric added.

"Yeah, well that bastard should have retired the year before last.  He
should have been long-gone before I ever got to the high school and had to
deal with him," I ranted.  "I went to hell and back because of him and all
that bullshit with Emily.  He's just a stupid fucker!  And I really don't
even know Mr. Davis.  Not directly, anyway, since I've never really had any
dealings with him."

So after the meeting with Mr. Walters, the first day of practice got
underway.  Mr. Sanger turned out to be really cool and was a lot of fun to
work with.  Mr. Lane, another music assistant, coached the pit, which
included all the other percussionists, besides drums.  They had some really
cool drum things planned for this year.

At noon, Mr. Walters met with everyone as a group and gave us a heads-up on
some other plans for the music department for the coming school year.  He
announced that he's already made the decision on the spring musical, even
though it's a long way off, and that it was going to be Les Miserables.  He
looked straight at Mark when he said there is a lot of talent this year and
that, while everyone who is interested in participating should audition, he
has some key people in mind for certain parts.  He also told us rock
orchestra is going to be even better this year, as they have bought three
new Viper electric violins.

He said he's strongly thinking of having rock orchestra perform "Video
Killed the Radio Star" with some cool special effects and lighting, and
that he has a few people pre-selected to sing vocals.  Again, he looked
directly at Mark.  Mr. Walters doesn't mince any words, and he usually
always gets what he wants.  He's very persuasive.

As we were putting some of the equipment away, Mr. Walters struck up a
conversation with Mark.  Even though I happened to be there, he was really
only talking to Mark.

"So, Graham, what are your plans for college?  Have you thought about a
major, or where you might like to go?"

"Jeez, Mr. Walters, I'm only a junior, so it hasn't really entered my mind
yet.  I haven't even taken the SAT's or anything.  Why do you ask??"

"I just feel that you have a tremendous amount of skill and talent, not
only as a drummer, but as a singer as well.  You should definitely think
about a career in the music field.  You're a natural."

"Gosh, I hadn't really thought too much about that, but I do love music, as
you know...  But I don't want to be a music teacher, though."

"I'd like you to talk to Mr. Sanger.  He's a great addition to our staff,
and he's a graduate of Cal-State Northridge, in the Los Angeles area.  It's
a fine, fine school, and their music programs are outstanding.  There are
so many opportunities.  A good friend of mine is a professor there, and in
fact, that's how we got Mr. Sanger, based on my friend's recommendation."

"Wow!"  Mark was politely excited.

"There's no hurry, of course, but it's definitely something to consider."

"OK... sure..."

Since I was standing right there during the conversation between
Mr. Walters and Mark, of course I heard everything.  It's not like it was
anything private.  But it was yet another surprise, for me as well as Mark.
Neither one of us ever expected there to be any kind of talk about
college... not so soon!  Not from Mr. Walters.

Well, I have to say, my mood changed in an instant.  Even though it's far
into the future, just the thought of Mark going away to college sorta did
me in for the day.  I was sorta quiet while we walked to the car, even
though everyone around us was talking, joking, laughing, and being silly.
Except me.  I was out of it.

"Mark, can you just drop me off at my grandparents' house?"

"Yeah, sure.  Hey, do you wanna have lunch somewhere first?"

"No.," I said sort-of abruptlty, obviously preoccupied.  I got right to the
point.  "I gotta ask you... aren't you sorta taken aback by Walters asking
about college?  Is it any of his business?  What the fuck.  And where the
fuck is this Cal-State whatever place?  I mean, shit."

"Sweetie, there's nothing to worry about.  Walters always does shit like
this.  He's only thinking and making a suggestion.  I haven't even begun to
think about college yet," Mark reassured me.  "Oh, and Cal-State Northridge
is in California... duh!"

"Cali-fuckin-fornia.  That's three-thousand miles away.  Is he out of his
mind?"

"Calm your ass down, Kev.  You're over-reacting.  I mean, I'll talk to
Mr. Sanger about it, eventually.  But not any time soon.  It doesn't mean
I'm gonna go there.  Trust me."

We got to my grandparent's sooner than we knew it, and sat in the driveway
and talked for a few minutes.  Oh how I wanted to just curl up in bed with
Mark and forget about the world and everything in it... or better still,
how I wanted to be alone with him in a tent again, like out at Indian
Ridge.

I looked out the car window.  "California's a long way away." I said.

"You're right, Kevin.  California's a long way away."

(To be continued...)