Date: Thu, 27 Apr 2000 12:51:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dewey <dewey2k@yahoo.com>
Subject: For the love of Pete Ch.9

This story is a work of erotic fiction involving teenage boys partially
based on real people and events.  Names have been changed to protect the
guilty as well as the innocent.  All the usual rules apply.  If you
shouldn't be reading this now, then don't continue on.

-----------------------

I am also posting my stories to another site:
http://www.teenboyauthors.org/aww/index.asp

This site publishes only love stories, not quick sex stories.  Since you're
still reading this series, you may want to check it out.

My newest chapters will be posted at this site exclusively for one week
prior to submitting them to Nifty.

-----------------------

Copyright Notice - Copyright (c)April 2000 by Dewey.

This story is copyrighted by the author and the author retains all rights.
You may distribute, copy, or print this story however you like, PROVIDED
this copyright notice remains intact and you do not change the story in any
way.  Also you may not charge any fee to anyone to distribute or access
this story.

For the Love of Pete

Chapter Nine

=> For the Love of Brian <=

I didn't know what she had planned until the morning she took me away.
When I saw Brian, my heart broke.  It was all I could do to not break the
hold Mother had on my neck and run to him.  She must have sensed my
thoughts because her grip tightened painfully.  It tightened even more when
I spoke to him, telling him I understood and I was sorry.

I was shoved in the car and told not to say another word.  Slamming the
door, she wheeled on Brian and said something to him that made him turn
white.  She then got in the car, started the engine, and backed down the
driveway.  I tried to tell him I loved him as the car backed up.  Brian
stood rooted in the driveway, looking as if he was stunned and couldn't
move.

Mother put the car in drive and pulled away from his house.  I turned
around in my seat to watch him for as long as I could.  "Turn around and
sit down this instant.  Your going to cause a wreck."  I ignored her until
the car crested the hill, and I saw Brian fall to his knees and scream to
the sky.  That was the last thing I saw, and that image is burned into my
mind even today.

We drove to the airport, dropping the car at long term parking.  She
resumed her grip on the scruff of my neck, ensuring she had me under
control every time she could.  I think she was afraid I would run away.  If
I'd had more guts, I would have.  She didn't even speak to me except to
bark commands.

We boarded the plane for the two hour flight to Portland, Oregon.  As the
plane lifted off the ground, something snapped inside, and I turned on her.
I said, "Taking me away isn't going to change the fact that I am gay."  Her
response was swift and unexpected.

She reached over and slapped my face hard.  "You are not gay.  That boy
made you think you were.  I don't want to hear you say anything like that
again!  Do you hear me?"  The other passengers around us looked on with
mute fascination or horror.

"This changes nothing.  I am gay.  And you are no better than Dad.  You
even hit me like he wanted to.  No.  You are no longer my mother."  She
slapped me again, harder.  I lapsed into silence.  I was stuck by her in
the window seat, so I couldn't escape that way.  I could have provoked her
more, but I didn't want to get beat on. So I sat there, silent and meek.

The plane landed in Portland right on time.  As we deplaned, she tried to
grab my neck again, but I whirled on her, furious.  I was blocking the
aisle as I stared in her eyes.  "Where am I gonna go, huh?  You don't need
a leash now that you've safely gotten me away from my boyfriend."  I was
embarrassing the hell out of her, but I kept going.  "You will not touch me
again.  Don't push me on this.  If I have to, I'll defend myself."  She
tried to turn me around and get me moving again, but I knocked her hand
aside.  "This is your last warning.  Next time, I hit back."  I turned
around and walked out of the plane.  She didn't try to touch me again.

We took the long hike from gate C23 to the baggage claim, and found our
bags just getting on the carousel.  After grabbing them, we headed outside
and met my grandmother, whom I hadn't seen since I was really little.  I
didn't really remember her, and had had forgotten that my grandparents even
lived up here.  I figured we would be staying with them until we got our
feet under us.

We drove for about fifty minutes, finally ending up at the grandparents
place.  It was about thirty miles outside of Portland, off of highway 26
west of Hillsboro.  Gramma told me they owned about 30 acres out there,
most of it hilly woodland.  It was huge compared to the four acres we had
down in California.

Later I learned that Gramma and Grampa had horses, cows, chickens, a
garden, and best of all, a motorcycle.  It was a beat up old Kawasaki 125.
Grampa said it still ran but needed a tune up.  He would teach me how to
work on the bike if I wanted, and I took him up on it.

The motorcycle gave me the freedom to get away when I wanted, to be alone
when I needed to, and to avoid Mother.  The only requirement set on me
(besides a helmet, of course, was that I had to take a two-way radio with
me and check in about every half hour or so.  I was glad to do that.  It
made me feel safer knowing that they would come looking if I didn't check
in.

Once we got settled, I took to avoiding Mother like the plague.  It wasn't
hard.  Mother was out looking for work, and later on, working, while I was
on summer break.

After he was convinced I wasn't going to kill myself on the bike or any
other way, Grampa left me to my own devices, but he always made it clear he
was available to me at any time.  Two weeks after we arrived, I asked him
what Mother had told him about why we were up there.

"She told us that Joe was beating the two of you.  But I think there is
more to the story judging from the way you and your mom treat each other."
I debated telling him the truth.  He was old and old people usually
couldn't handle someone being gay.  But I needed someone to talk to.  I had
to chance it.

"Grampa, I met this guy down there" I explained what happened from the time
Brian and I came out to each other up until I arrived in Portland.
"Grampa, I am gay, and I know that in my heart.  It's not a phase.  Believe
me, except for Brian, I wish I wasn't.  I really loved him.  I guess I'm
suppressing the pain."

His reaction to all this surprised me.  "I thought this might be headed
that way.  Look son, we haven't met but twice that I can recall, and I
doubt you can remember.  So having you here now is like meeting a new
grandson for me.  You may not be aware of this, knowing Brenda, but you
have a cousin in New York and one in Boston that are gay.  Do I think any
less of them for it?  Of course not.  Being gay is a part of them and makes
them who they are.  Now why should I think less of you?"  He grinned.
"Besides, now that I know, I can tease you about all the good looking
friends you'll have over."  His face sobered again.  "I can't say I like
the way Brenda treats you.  But I want you to know you'll be safe here, no
matter what happens, short of you killing someone.  I'll tell your Grandma,
and she'll be fine with it.  Maybe between us, we can temper your mom's
responses a bit. We'll see.  But don't hesitate to come to one of us if you
need anything.  Anything at all."

I couldn't believe how cool this old guy was taking everything.  I finally
had someone besides Brian I could be myself with, who loved me for who I
was, not for what I was supposed to be.

It may seem that losing Brian didn't hurt me.  Absolutely untrue.  I
distracted myself so I wouldn't think of him.  When I did, I started
crying.  I hate to cry.  But when I did, I was usually deep in the woods,
where no one could see me.

So I kept myself busy.  I took over part of the chores like feeding and
brushing the horses, feeding the cows and chickens, that kind of thing.
Grampa and I rebuilt the motorcycle engine and it ran like a champ.  We
turned it into a 150cc, too.  Another project we started working on was an
old junker Grampa had in the back of the house near the shed. It was in
serious need of work from the body to the interior.  Grampa told me that if
we got it running and fixed up by the time I turned 16, he would give it to
me as an early graduation present.  Another obsession in the making.  He
even paid for all the parts out of his pocket.

Eventually Mother found us an apartment in Aloha, about six miles from the
grandparent's farm.  It was a small two bedroom place, with just enough
space in my room to change my mind.  I didn't want to move in, but Gramma
and Grampa insisted that I go and give Mother a chance.  I reluctantly
agreed and quickly regretted it.

Mother had an obsession with me being gay.  She would bird dog me when she
was home, watching for some sign of "gayness", and yell at me when she
found one.  This went on for almost two years.

One day I was really down, just after we moved into the apartment.  I tried
to call Brian for the first time.  After dialing the number, and automatic
message came up.  "The number you have dialed has been blocked.  If you
wish to..."  Mother had blocked out his number.  I even tried from Grampa's
place, but it was blocked there, too.  I asked him about it and he said
Mother made him promise to block the number, and he wouldn't break a
promise once given.  I tried to think of what to do next.  I had some
money, but not enough for a long phone call.  There was no one else I knew
that could help.  It was hopeless.  So, I wrote him a letter every now and
then, but he didn't respond.  I don't even know if he got them.

I started school, and everything seemed to be going fine, though I didn't
enjoy it much without Brian to share my jokes with or talk to.  They
assigned me to advanced math, science, and English.  Everything else was
just like it had been in California, except Brian wasn't here.  I didn't
like to dwell on that.

I went out for the football team and made it, taking a linebacker position.
I wasn't especially good, but I held my own.  My coach turned out to be a
gay basher.  I took special pleasure trying to knock him on his ass at
every opportunity.  And the same for the rest of those intolerant bastards,
too.

The only real cool thing at school was the Gay Support Group that met
Tuesday afternoons after school in the Library.  I started going after
football season ended, and found not just kids my age, but ranging from 11
to 18. Everyone was welcome at these meetings, gay, bi, or straight. The
purpose was to help anyone who was gay, or knew someone that was.

It was really cool to hear that other people were going through some of the
same stuff I was.  No one pressured me to talk.  I just started one day in
January.  I spewed everything, and everyone was really supportive and
understanding, offering some advice as to how to deal with my separation
from Brian and the isolation from my mother.

No one insulted us or teased us, even if they knew we were going to the
support group.  I heard about the guy who came into the meeting one time
and started blasting fags.  He was suspended for two weeks, and would be
expelled if he did it again.

It was at the meeting I first spoke that I met my first friend.  His name
was Ray, and he was gay.  He was about a year older than me and lived in a
foster home because his parents had kicked him out two years ago.  His
house was about three miles from my apartment and my grandparent's farm.
We even had the same interests in fixing cars and riding bikes.  We rode
all over the hills, just enjoying each others company.  I did make it clear
to him that all I wanted right now was a friendship and nothing more.  All
he said was, "Cool.  I understand," with a slight smile.  I had thought
about it, but if I were to go after him as a boyfriend, I would be disloyal
to Brian, and I wasn't over him in the least.

Ray and I started hanging together in town, going to movies or grabbing
burgers for lunch.  We talked about everything and nothing, from family to
cute boys, bikes and cars, fears and dreams.

Ray was a stocky kid, good looking but built like a fireplug. He had red
hair and freckles all over, and was muscular, too muscular for his frame.
The overall effect was that his body overshadowed his face, and people
thought him ugly.  I asked him one time about how he got so muscular.  He
told me that when he was a kid they gave him a hormone for some illness he
had.  The problem was he had just started his growth spurt, and the meds
stopped his spurt cold.  The end result was he had shoulders built for a
man six-feet-five, but would only grow to be five-feet-eight or so.

Of course, Mother hated Ray on sight.  When I introduced him to her (and
I'll never understand why I thought it necessary), she outright accused me
of having sex with him, while he was present in the room.  I laughed in her
in her face, and we walked out of the apartment, not paying attention to
her calls to return. I never invited Ray over to either my place or my
grandparents place if there was a remote chance she would be there.  She
went as far as to forbid me from seeing him.  I ignored her.

Ray knew why I had stopped inviting him over, and said he understood.  "My
parents kicked me out immediately after I told them I was gay.  They gave
me fifteen minutes to get everything I wanted, and the rest was sold or
thrown out.  But it was the best thing they ever did for me.  My foster
family is great.  They understand what I am going through, and even joke
around with me about being gay.  They're always asking if I think this guy
or that guy is cute.  Jason was even trying to set me up with one of his
friends!  None of them are shy, and I can open up to them.  They are trying
to get those people to give up their parental rights so I can be adopted."
He always referred to his biological parents as "those people".  I thought
is was so cool that he had the Pattersons in his life.  I wished I had
someone that understanding in mine.

Ray introduced me to the Pattersons about a month after we met.  Kevin
Patterson, Ray's foster father, was a lawyer by trade, slightly built with
a balding pate.  He reminded me of Bulldog on Fraiser.  He was happy,
boisterous, and generally fun to be around.  He was a teenager at heart.
Sharon I recognized as the facilitator of the support group where Ray and I
met.  She was a cheerful woman, built well with all the right curves.  I
noticed, however, that she had a serious side to her.  Overall, she
balanced Kevin's teen-like enthusiasm well.

Jason Patterson was a senior in high school, extremely good looking, and
straight as an arrow.  He was, however, cool about Ray's orientation.  They
had long, serious talks about their differences, and had mutual respect for
each other.  Little Joanne was a doll at six years old, and couldn't
understand all the fuss.  She won my heart in an instant.

As I walked into their house for the first time on a Saturday afternoon,
Ray called the whole family together except Joanne.  What he said to them
surprised me because of his openness.

"This is Pete Jameson.  I met him in the support group.  He is gay, but we
are just friends.  We have the same hobbies and it's a natural fit.
Besides, he's cute, ain't he?"  Ray grinned and tagged me on the shoulder.

Everyone introduced themselves.  Sharon hugged me and told me I was welcome
anytime.  Kevin shook my hand heartily and smiled, saying, "Ray is right.
You are cute."  I blushed appropriately.

Jason shook my hand also, but was more restrained than his father.  "Nice
to meet you Pete.  I look forward to getting to know you better."

Joanne picked that time to rush into the room, and practically ran me over.
The little tyke was strong!  She hugged my legs until Kevin dragged her off
of me, distracting her with a cookie.

Sharon pulled me aside, and motioned Ray to wait.  She led me into the
dining room and sat.  I did likewise.  "I noticed you recognized me from
the support group, so maybe you'll understand where I'm coming from.  I
like to ask questions of boys I meet in your position.  It may seem as if I
am prying, but the mother in me wants to know who you are, where you come
from, and what we can do to help you along, if help is needed.  So I'm
asking you to tell me your story, from when you first realized you were
gay, who you came out to, what happened afterward, the whole bit.  I want
to be able to help you, but I have to KNOW you first.  Does that seem
fair?"

Ray had told me it was okay to be honest here, so I told her what she
wanted to know, from my failure to perform, to the flight that brought me
here.  She listened attentively and asked questions occasionally.  She
teared up a few times, looked pissed a few times.  The whole thing felt
like I was talking to a shrink.  Well, she was a shrink, and really knew
how to relate to boys.

After I finished my story, she came around the table and hugged me.  "If
you ever feel the need, you come here, okay?  It doesn't matter what time
of day, just promise me you'll come here.  We will help you. That is what
we do."

Sharon then told me of another son they had.  He was a perfect son, except
he was gay.  He didn't know how to deal with it, and thought that Kevin and
Sharon would kick him out.  He got severely depressed, and eventually
committed suicide.  With tears in her eyes, she told me that this is what
prompted her to getting involved at the school, and eventually, fostering
Ray.  Kevin had been a family lawyer, but now focused on helping gay people
when they needed a lawyer.  Sharon made it clear to me that their house was
the first place I would go if anything happened, and she also gave me their
phone numbers if I had to talk to one of them.  She released me and I went
back into the family room.

Ray stood as I came back in, asking, "Did she give you the talk?"

"Yup.  She sounds determined."

"They all are.  Losing Jeff was a disaster for them.  That happened about
four years ago.  Jason is planning on studying adolescent psychology when
he goes into college next year.  He has a real head start with Sharon,
though, and also what he learned from Jeff's death.  Even without his mom,
he's good.  We talked a lot when I first came here.  I think the
conversations we had were the ones he didn't have a chance to have with
Jeff.  Jason asked me everything he could think of.  Still does. Questions
like how did I know I was gay, what I felt, what it was like when I saw a
hot guy, everything else I was going through.  Some of it I can't answer.
But there have been times I've come home from school ready to kill
something, and he always talks me down.  Jason has a talent for working
with kids.  He was a counselor at camp for three years.

"Sometimes he lets me hang with his friends.  They all know about me and
are cool."  Ray paused a moment, trying to gather his thoughts once more.
"I love Jason like a brother.  Hell, I love them all.  You'll see what I
mean as you get to know them."  I hoped that I would be around long enough.
Obviously I couldn't tell Mother about them, and maybe I'd best not tell
Grampa or Gramma, either.  The thought of having to hide things from my
grandparents made me sick to my stomach, but I believed it was necessary to
keep them in the dark.

Ray and I went upstairs to his room, which used to be Jeff's.  The
Patterson's had agreed to foster Ray shortly after Jeff died, kind of like
a penance, but the situation worked out.  I could see it in the looks that
Sharon and Kevin gave their kids.  All of them.  Ray was included.  I
really hoped the adoption would go through.  Someone deserved to be happy,
why not Ray? I wouldn't be happy again until I had Brian back, that much I
knew.

I realized that I hadn't been feeling the pain, guilt, or fear that
surrounded me, and I was just beginning to realize what all that was about,
but I didn't have a safe place to let it all come out.  Maybe I could with
Kevin, Sharon, and Jason. Time would tell.

After class one day, I got up the nerve to call Brian again from a pay
phone. Lisa answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Lisa, this is Pete."

"Hello, Pete.  How are you?"

"I'm doing okay.  Is Brian there?"

"No, he's out somewhere... we don't see that much of him around here
anymore."

"Could you give him my phone number?"  I gave her my number, and then
asked, "How is he?"

"He took it hard.  He misses you."

"I miss him too.  Tell him I called and that I love him."

"I'll tell him you called."

"Thank you, Bye."

"Good bye."

After the phone conversation I felt more alone than usual.  Lisa didn't
even sound excited that I called or anything.  I wondered if she would
actually tell him I called.  For that matter, I wondered if she was hiding
my letters to him.  Was she trying to keep us apart even though I was a
thousand miles away?

As the weeks and months passed, I found myself spending more time at the
Patterson's house, less with my grandparents, and avoiding my mother's
apartment completely.  The apartment wasn't mine, it was Mother's.  Every
time I came home, it was more and more obvious.

We got into one hell of a row one night when I came back from Ray's place,
about a year after we moved up there.  It was so bad that our neighbors
called in the cops.  When they got there, my mother was still raving about
her fagot son fucking anything he could get his hands on, even that poor
child, Ray.  The cops separated us, and released me into my grandparents
custody.

I though I hid it pretty well, the anger and the hurt, but Grampa and
Gramma saw right through the mask I had put on.  They held me close, and I
let loose some of that awful gut-wrenching pain.  I cried for a while,
enough to take the edge off so I could function.  That night I made up my
mind to get out of the apartment somehow.

For starters, I asked Mother if I could move in with Grampa.  She was
immediately suspicious.  The reasons I gave her were that everything I did
was over there anyway, the bike and the car, the horses.  Plus, she was
never home to help me with my homework (like she ever did), and Gramps and
Gram were always home.  She scrutinized my face, looking for any hint of
deceit. Finding none, she allowed me to move, probably thinking that she
wouldn't have to deal with her fagot son anymore.

Gram and Gramps were both, if not excited, at least understanding, and knew
why I wanted to move.  They accepted me back into their home with grace,
and reminded me of the rules of the house.  I would have my chores during
the week, but the weekend was mine.

Gramps went so far as to have Mother sign guardianship over to them, but it
was revocable at any time.  This arrangement was fine with me.  I notified
the school of the change of address and emergency contact numbers.

Now, it may seem unusual to you that Mother would do this, but she had
other interests beside me, like her new boyfriend Carl.  I met him a couple
times before he moved in with us.  Mother had been dating him for a year
before I moved.  He reminded me of my father in almost every detail.  He
was built like him, acted like him, and spoke like him, right down to the
insults.  He really had a field day when Mother told him I was gay.  I'll
spare you the details, but I did wear some bruises.  It was the next week I
asked for the move.

The school year ended.  Ray and I were inseparable, but it was purely
platonic.  We would spend days at the farm, and then turn around and spend
days at his place.  His family even invited me to go with them for their
yearly vacation down the Oregon coast, a two week trip.  Of course, Gramps
and Gram let me go.  The really cool thing was that all the kids got to
bring a friend on the trip, if their parents said yes.  Ray brought me,
Joanne brought a little friend named Holly, and Jason brought a guy in the
class behind him that he had played sports with.

His name was Jared.  He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I
had ever seen.  I couldn't help but stare at him when we were introduced.
Ray had to punch my arm to get my attention.  Man was I embarrassed, but I
guess that Jason had told him about me, and Jared seemed to be mildly
amused by my reaction to him.  He was friendly, and in my observation, went
out of his way to include Ray and I in their activities.

Jared had light brown hair, green eyes, and had fine facial features.  He
reminded me of Scott Wolf on Party of Five.  Later on, I saw that his body
was sculpted.  He looked like the David statue, he was that hot.  I still
stared at him occasionally, but was able to redirect my attention if
needed.  I think that Jared was enjoying having me stare at him.  He would
just give me a small smile when he caught me.  Ray would give me a big
punch when he caught me, but I think he was amused more than angry.

We hiked around, played Frisbee and football, fished, and generally had a
great time on the way down the coast on highway 101.  The whole family even
rode dune buggies just outside of Florence.

It took us four days to make it to our campsite.  It was a state park
outside of a little town called Brookings. We stopped at another state park
before going into town.  It was called Whaleshead State Park.  I remember
this because there is a huge rock in the middle of the cove that looks like
a whale coming up out of the water.  We watched the waves for a while, and
then saw how this beach got it's name.  Out the side of that rock came a
jet of water, looking like a whales spout.  It was a beautiful sight.

We drove on another seven miles until we came into Brookings. The
population sign said 3500 people lived here. From what I gathered, this
place was really a retirement town, but here and there I saw kids too.
There was a plywood mill dominating the center of town, with it's tall
smokestack belching out black smoke.  The wind was blowing out to sea, so
the exhaust rapidly disappeared in the quickening breeze.  The main drag
through town was Highway 101.  As we drove through town, it looked kind of
like we were back in the fifties, the buildings old fashioned, some falling
down.  I didn't even see a McDonalds.

Finally we reached the end of town and turned onto a winding river road.
Following for eight miles, we found the campground tucked away in the
trees.  It consisted of a loop of pavement about _ of a mile long, with
campsites on either side at 25 foot intervals under the myrtlewood and
alder trees.  I got a sudden pang for my house in California.  I loved the
trees there.  It was where Brian and I had spent our time.  Ray had noticed
me go silent as I thought, and nudged me.

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah. I was just remembering old stuff.  My old house was in the woods
like this, except the trees there were pine and fir."

Ray sensed my sadness and patted me on the shoulder, whispering, "It's okay
to feel sad.  Especially since... well... that's where Brian is." He
sounded strange, like his heart wasn't in his words.

Even so, he caught me by surprise.  I looked at him with wide eyes.  I had
been trying to avoid thinking of him for months now because the pain was to
great to endure.  Blinking my eyes furiously, I tried to will the tears
away, but with every passing moment more tears came, until I finally broke
down and started crying.  Ray gently pulled me to his body, much like Brian
had done for me.  I rested my forehead against his shoulder and cried
myself out.  Jason and Jared looked on in sympathy. Kevin and Sharon said
nothing.

I felt a small hand on my back.  "Why are you crying?  Are you hurt?"
Joanne was concerned, I could tell.  Reassuring her, I finally stopped the
waterworks and told her that old memories had made me sad.

"Oh.  Well, don't remember them, then."  And with that, the problem was
solved for her.  For me, all I could do was rededicate myself to finding a
way back to my love.  I would bring it up sometime this week and see if
Kevin and Sharon had any ideas.

We spent the days in Brookings hiking around and swimming in the Chetco
River, fishing, rafting, just being boys.  Jason and Jared decided that
they were going to hang out with us and be boys too.  Next week was soon
enough to act like the men they were expected to be. The weather was warm,
so we ran around in swim trunks and nothing else.  Sunscreen was liberally
applied, too.  Ray volunteered to put the lotion on Jason's back, so I
naturally rubbed the cream into Jared's back.  Then we switched places and
they returned the favor.

It must have been my imagination, but I thought that Jared was enjoying
rubbing my back.  Occasionally his hand would slip around to my side for a
stroke or two, then he would go to my back again.  He finished up at the
same time as Jason, however, and off we went to the water.

We had chicken fights, Ray on Jason, and me on Jared.  Our teams were
pretty evenly matched, but the slimy rocks in the water dumped us more
often than we dunked each other.  We dove off of a convenient rock in the
middle of the river, too.  The water was about 15 feet deep on the one
side, but the other side had a sandbar that we could stand on.

It turned out that Jared was on the dive team and swim team at school, and
he agreed to teach us the basics of diving. I guess I learned slowly,
because he spent some extra time working with me for a couple of days,
correcting my form and technique.  It was all I could do to keep from
getting aroused as he put his hands on me, positioning my body for various
dives.

"You have a real talent for diving, Pete.  I think you might want to
consider joining the team when you get back to school."  He moved behind me
and raised my arms over my head, positioning my hands properly for entry
into the water.  "You have a great body, Pete."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't my imagination after all.  I turned around to face
him.  "Is there something I should know?  Jason told you about me, right?"

"Yeah, he told me you are gay."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Gay!  You have been putting your hands on me every chance you get. You
enjoy putting sunscreen on my back just a little bit, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."  He was starting to get a panicked look on his face, and I
could see him tensing up to run from me.  I didn't want to scare him, all I
needed to do was clear the air so there were no secrets.  I reached out to
him and put both hands on his shoulders.

"Jared, you are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met.  If I was
free to, I would fall for you so hard that they'd have to scrape me off the
sidewalk with a spatula.  But I am committed to Brian.  We can be friends
until the tension gets to be too much, but if I feel tempted to betray him,
I'm going to have to clear out."  I squeezed his shoulders for emphasis.
"I can see the answer to my question in your eyes.  Believe me, it's okay.
I'm not going to leave you hanging.  I know what it is to be abandoned.  I
could learn to love you rather quickly.  But I love Brian more than
anything, and will forever.  Even if it is a hopeless situation."  I hate
it when I tear up.  And it always happens when I talk about Brian.

"I can tell that you mean what you say.  Tell me about Brian.  I have heard
a little bit from Jason, but not enough.  I do want to be good friends with
you, so I'd like to know what happened that made you fall in love with
him."  I wore a hesitant expression, not because I didn't want to tell HIM,
but because I didn't want to go through the emotional roller coaster.
"Please?  I can already tell you miss him."

"Let's go someplace not so public, okay?  This could get messy."  He nodded
in understanding and led me to a little cove we had found earlier that week
that hid us from the beach.  I could already feel the tears building, and I
hadn't said a word yet.  We got settled in , laying in the sun on a gravel
bar that was there, enjoying the warmth.

"Brian is the most beautiful person I ever met, inside and out.  We met in
the fifth grade...."

It did get messy.  I told my familiar story, cried, regained control, and
cried some more.  Jared sat quietly, asking questions occasionally, and
holding me as I cried.  As I told Jared about my dad, he started weeping
too.  We held each other for about 15 minutes, just letting the tears fall,
until I could continue.

Jared was the best.  I think he felt my pain as I told him everything.  At
the end, he hugged me hard and just said "I'm so sorry," over and over.
Rocking gently, we finally released each other and exchanged sheepish
grins.  I felt strangely better than I had in months, probably because I
had just let out months worth of pain, and was relieved at being able to
express it.

"Thank you, Pete.  I know that wasn't easy, but now I understand why you
feel like you do.  I hope that I can still be your friend."

"Of course you can!  I just needed to tell you where I am coming from, so
there are no misunderstandings."

"That's cool. Thanks.  I guess I should return the favor.  Ready to hear
about my boring life?"  He asked that with a sardonic half smile, waiting
for my response.

"Sure, but how can a guy like you have a boring life?  The girls must be
all over you!  And how do you fend them off, anyway?"

His laugh was one of the sweetest things I had heard.  Clear, bright, and
real.  "All in good time.  I was born and raised in Santa Barbara.  My
father worked for a hard disk manufacturer there as a manufacturing
engineer. The company underwent corporate down sizing, so we moved to
Portland, where he got a job at Intel.  Now he is an equipment engineer in
the lithography department.  Anyway, I was 10 when we moved.  I got into
school immediately, and made a lot of friends.  A couple of years passed
and middle school was cool.  I went out for football, basketball, track,
anything that came around.  I was 12 when I figured out I liked guys, but
it wasn't until I was 13 that I put the word 'gay' together with my
attraction to boys.

"My parent's and I have always been close, and I told them right away.
They always told me I could come to them with anything, and have proved it
to me over and over, so I went to them with this, too.  They were so cool
about it.  The first word out of my dad's mouth was 'So?'.  Mom then told
me that it didn't change a thing as far as they were concerned.  They just
wanted me to be happy.

"It makes me feel guilty, a little bit, having such cool parents while you
and Ray had such bastards for yours."

"That's stupid.  Why do you feel guilty for something that wonderful?  You
have a loving, caring family, and you should feel good that you have them.
Ray and I have dealt with our families one way or another, and then we
moved on.  Like Ray says, it is the best thing they could have done for us,
to give us to someone who truly cares.  So don't you feel bad for having
someone who loves you for who you are."  I grinned "It just happens that
the people that care about you have the same blood.  But don't think that
what Ray has is any less significant.

"He loves them all like they are his real family.  I love them too, and my
grandparents are so cool.  They understand me because they raised an aunt
and uncle that are gay too.  So don't worry about us."  I smiled at him.
He grinned back.

"Okay, I'll try not to.  You ready to head back for lunch?"

"Sure, let's go.  I just realized how hungry I am."

We scampered across the bar and dove into the water for the swim back to
campground.  The water was shockingly cold after the hot sun on the beach.
We made it back to camp to see Ray and Jason finishing up their lunch.

"Where have you guys been?  We looked for you and didn't find you."  Ray
had a kind of hurt expression on his face, jealous maybe.

"I'm sorry Ray, but Jared and I had a few things to discuss, and I needed
to tell him about Brian."

"Why?"

"Because I had to make sure we were all on the same playing field."  I
looked to Jared for help, and he came through.

"Ray, I'm gay. Pete wanted to make sure I knew that he was taken."

"By Brian?" I nodded.

Ray's face turned angry.  "When are you gonna realize that you aren't going
to be able to go back to him?  What are you going to do, run away?  Ask
your grand parents to move?  Huh!?  Why can't you like me?"

All I could do was stare at him in mute horror.

"RAY!"  Jason's voice held a note of command I'd not heard before.  I could
see Ray's face change from anger to shock as he realized what he had said.

 I felt suddenly detached from my body, like I was looking down on the
scene from above.  I could see myself standing there, and Ray starting to
tear up.  Jared stood next to me in silence, a concerned, caring look on
his face as he gazed at me.

With a horrified expression on his face, Ray turned and bolted.  As he did,
I slammed back into my body with such force I fell to the ground, landing
on my knees.  I didn't feel anything.  No pain, no anger, no sadness.  I
was completely numb, vaguely hearing Jason calling for his mom, and then
running after Ray.  Later I would recall that Kevin followed Ray and Jason.

Shifting my weight to the left, I slid off my knees onto my butt, still
looking after where Ray had torn through the underbrush in his haste to get
away.  Hearing voices, I looked around blankly, not recognizing Sharon or
Jared.  What had I been thinking of?  It was something important. No, it
was someone important.  Something had happened to someone important, but I
couldn't figure it out.  Grandpa?  Grandma?  No, it wasn't them.

I heard my name being called in the distance, an urgent call demanding my
attention, but for some reason, I couldn't find my way to answer the call.
It was hidden somewhere.  The call kept coming, but I still couldn't find
it.  Finally the call ceased and I could go back to my problem.

Who was it that was in trouble?  Something wasn't right.  What was it that
was not right?  I'll ask Brian.  He'll know what the problem is.  He always
knows.  He can help me.

With that comforting thought in my mind, I drifted off to sleep.

-----------------------

Authors Note:

I realize that Chapter 8 and 9 have been different, and that some of you
may not like the track the story has taken.  All I can say is that I hope
you will bear with me as I relate this painful period in Brian's and Pete's
lives.  As in everyone's lives, lessons must be learned, and sometimes the
lessons are painful.

On a positive note, I do not foresee and end to this story at this time,
which may be a relief to some of you.

Thank you for your support and encouragement.
Dewey

-----------------------
Constructive criticism and comments gladly accepted.  Please e-mail me at 
dewey2k@yahoo.com. Flames will be deleted.
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