Date: Sun, 06 May 2001 21:10:56 -0700
From: The Pecman <thepecman@yahoo.com>
Subject: Groovy Kind of Love 7-8 (t/t, HS, 1st, HS, size, mast, oral, anal)

GROOVY KIND OF LOVE
*******************

-----------------------------------------------------------
   For the disclaimer, please read Part 1.
   This story may be reprinted anywhere on the Net, as long
   as it's done intact, without changing a single word,
   and preserving my copyright & Email address. And that's
   Copyright 2001 ThePecman@yahoo.com. All rights reserved.
-----------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 7

When I got home that night, my parents took one look at me
and completely freaked out. I told them it was nothing,
that I had slipped on a diving board during practice, but I
didn't think they bought it. They demanded that I go to the
hospital immediately, but I adamantly refused, insisting I
was fine. My mother was practically in tears.

Dad took a good look at my jaw. "Well," he said, "I don't
think it's broken, but that tooth looks pretty bad. We're
going to call the dentist right now and ask him if he'll
see you in the morning for an emergency exam." I started to
protest, but he cut me short.

"No, William. You only get one set of teeth to last your
whole lifetime," he said. Then, lowering his voice, he
added, "do this for your mother."

I turned to her and saw the horrified look on her face, and
nodded. Even my stupid sister kept her mouth shut for a
change.

"Just let me go up to bed, okay?" I said, starting for the
stairs.

"Aren't you even going to tell us what happened?" cried my
mother.

"NO!" I yelled. "I told you -- I slipped and fell on the
high board!"

"Maybe we should call the coach," said my mother, reaching
for the phone.

"DON'T... DO... ANYTHING!" I wailed, and ran upstairs and
slammed my door. I fell into bed and sobbed for what felt
like an hour.

Not long afterwards, I heard a knock.

"Go away!" I mumbled into my pillow. "I said I'd see the
dentist in the morning."

The door opened, and a shaft of light momentarily blinded
me. My mom entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and
sandwiches. Cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese... she
knew those were my favorites.

Mom lay the tray on a side-table and sat down on my bed.
"Wil, you need to eat something," she said soothingly.

"Can't," I said, tersely. "Mouth hurts too much."

She put her hand on my forehead, and I opened my eyes and
looked up at her. She smiled back.

"Remember when the boys used to try to beat you up in
elementary school?" she said, gently. "Your friend Sky
always helped you stay out of trouble."

I felt like someone plunged a knife in my heart.

"Go away, Mom," I choked, rolling over so she couldn't see
my tears.

"Sky called a few minutes ago, you know," she continued.
"He said somebody told him you were in a fight. He just
wanted to see if you were okay."

"Tell him to go FUCK HIMSELF!" I screamed, immediately
regretting my outburst.

My mom was aghast. "William Gerald Larson! Don't you ever
use language like that in this house!"

I rolled over, immediately apologetic. "Gosh, I'm sorry
mom, really! I'm just... I'm in a lotta pain and stuff."

She nodded, regaining her composure. "I have some aspirin
and water here, if you need it."

I weakly attempted to smile. "Thanks, Mom," I said. "Yeah,
I think I could use some." I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

She handed me the pills and a small cup of water, and I
swigged them down in one gulp.

"Call me if you need anything," she said, as she started
for the door. "Dr. Morton's agreed to see you at 10AM
tomorrow."

I felt around the inside of my mouth with my tongue. Shit,
one of my lower front teeth really _was_ loose, I thought.
Fuck! It hurt like hell, and I still could taste a little
blood.

I didn't argue this time. "Okay, Mom," I said, falling back
to my pillow. "Just let me sleep 'till then."

She closed the door and left me surrounded by blackness. I
stared at the ceiling and desperately tried to make sense
of everything that had happened. Sky was my best friend.
Then he seems to hate me and tells me I'm 'weird.' Finally,
we patch things up, and we start fooling around. I give him
what he practically admitted was the best orgasm of his
entire life, and then he tries to knock my fucking teeth
down my throat.

And now he calls my house to see how I'm feeling?
Incredible, I thought, shaking my head. I sat up, reached
over, and started nibbling on the sandwich, taking care to
chew only on the right side of my mouth. I sipped the soup
-- CHRIST, it was hot! My lip was still bleeding, dammit.

I finished the meal in silence, then turned on the radio,
lay back and stared out the window. New moon out, I
thought. Hardly any light out tonight. I began to drift
away with the music.

The WLCY deejay talked up Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through
the Grapevine," which he said just hit #1 on the charts.
God, that was a great song, I thought. It had a weird
arrangement -- almost mysterious and angry. I let the music
wash over me like a soothing blanket. Before the song
ended, I drifted away to unconsciousness.

                        *   *   *

The following morning, Dr. Morton poked a wicked-looking
stainless-steel pick around in my mouth and shook his head.
It was unusual for me to see him on a Saturday. In lieu of
his standard-issue white lab coat, the dentist was dressed
in a goofy-looking golf outfit, with a plaid jacket, short
pants, and weird shoes. My dad stood by the exam door, with
his arms crossed across his chest, and an expression of
concern on his face.

The doctor tch-tch'd me, and turned to my father. "Well,
Mr. Larson, it's a good thing you didn't let your son's
tooth go another 24 hours," he said. "If infection had set
in, we could've lost it for sure." The kindly white-haired
man turned back to me. "You know, William, you only get one
set..."

"I know, I know," I said, irritated. "One set of teeth to
last a lifetime. Yeah, I know all about that." I looked
over to my dad. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Not so fast," the dentist explained. "Now, your lip is
already healing fine, so you won't need any stitches, and
I've packed that bottom left lateral incisor with a
temporary crown. You should put an ice pack on that bruise
on your jaw." He put down his dental mirror on a tray and
looked at me reassuringly. "This is probably a good time
for me to tell you, you're a good candidate for
orthodonture, William."

I rolled my eyes. "That's WIL," I muttered.

"Sorry -- Wil," he said, apologetically. The doctor turned
to my dad. "Wil's got some fairly crowded teeth on the
bottom, Mr. Larson, and with this injury, we can probably
get your insurance to pay for some of the expense. I'd
strongly suggest you consider it."

My dad nodded. "Son, you should listen to what Dr. Morton
says."

I blanched. Now, on top of everything else, they want to
turn me into a metal-mouth? "Jeeez, Dad," I whined. "I look
stupid enough as it is! I don't wanna get braces!"

The doctor smiled and shook his head. "Not braces, Wil.
Just a retainer. You'll only have to wear it at night, when
you sleep. In 12 to 18 months, you'll have the best-looking
mouth in school."

Tell that to Sky, I thought.

"Would the retainer give him any pain, doctor?" asked my
father.

"Well, there is some minor discomfort," he nodded. "But no,
it's not really painful." The doctor reached over and
showed me some pictures from a color brochure. "This is
what the retainer would look like, Wil. Your upper teeth
are fine. This would just open up your lowers and give them
a little more breathing room. I believe they'll grow in a
lot straighter, without all that pressure."

At this point, I'd have agreed to anything just to get out
of there. They made an appointment for me to come back
after New Year's to get the permanent crown and start the
measurements for the retainer. He also gave me a
prescription for a bunch of pills -- yellow ones for the
pain, and white antibiotics to kill any infection. After we
picked up the prescription at the drug store, Dad and I
rode home in an uncomfortable silence.

"I take it you still don't want to talk about it?" he
asked, gently.

I stared out the windshield. "No. It's not a big deal,
Dad."

"I understand," he sighed. "Is this... did this have to do
with your friend Schuyler?"

"No," I lied. "He wasn't even there. It was somebody else."

Dad chuckled. "You mean, at the diving board?"

I winced. "Just drop it, okay?," I pleaded. "It's all over
with now. I'm not really hurt."

Dad brought the car to a stop at the light, then turned to
me.

"Wil," he began, "remember, no matter what, I'll always be
your father. If you ever have a problem, you can always
tell me about it."

I ached to tell him how I really felt. Tears began to well
up in my eyes. No, stop it! I mentally commanded my tears
to turn to ice.

"Not now," I choked, my voice cracking. I turned and
pretended to look out the window to avoid letting him see
my face. "Maybe... maybe another time, Dad. Lemme just go
home for now."

I spent the rest of the day hold up in my room, listening
to the radio and doing my homework. The mid-terms were
coming up in just a few days, and everybody at school was
already totally paranoid about them. I heard the phone ring
down the hall, and my sister bounded down the stairs.

"I'll get it!" she yelled.

Seconds later, she called up to me from the kitchen.
"WIIIIIIIIL! It's Sky! He says he wants to talk to you."

Tell him to go fuck himself, I thought. My lower lip still
hurt like hell, even though I'd just taken a yellow pill an
hour ago.

Sharon cracked my door open and timidly poked her head in
my room. "I said it's Sky, Wil! On the phone!"

"Just tell him to go..." I caught myself. "Uh... just tell
him I'm asleep."

She gave me a quizzical look. "But you're awake!" she said,
with the pure logic only a 9 year-old could have.

"Make-BELIEVE I'm asleep," I said, exasperated.

"Okay!" she said, brightly, and ran down the stairs,
leaving my door wide open. I tried not to listen, but she
was too loud to ignore. From a distance, I dimly heard her
say, "he says you have to make-believe he's asleep, Sky!"
she said, laughing, then hung up the phone.

I winced and put my head down on my desk. Well, maybe
_that_ would get the message across, I thought.

An hour later, I saw Sharon again in the kitchen as I
grabbed a swig of Pepsi out of the refrigerator. "Uh,
Sharon," I said casually. "When you talked to Sky on the
phone, did he... did he say anything?"

"No," she said, thoughtfully.

"Oh," I said, disappointed. I put the bottle back on the
shelf and turned to leave.

"No, wait!" she said. "I remember now. He asked me if you
were hurt, and I said you were gonna have to get braces or
all your teeth would fall out!" She giggled.

I rolled my eyes. "You stupid little..." I said, taking a
menacing step towards her.

She backed away and stared up at my face, taken aback at my
sudden flash of anger. "I'm sorry, Wil," she said quickly.
"I made that part up. I just said you had to get braces,
and the doctor gave you some pain pills. That's all I said.
Honest!"

I nodded and walked through the dining room. Just as I got
to the stairway, she called out to me.

"Oh, and Sky said he was really sorry. He said it was all
his fault. Why did he say that, Wil?"

I froze and turned around, slowly walking back to her.
"Sharon," I said, leaning over to her. "Please make me a
promise," I said, gently.

She nodded, her eyes wide. We usually fought so much, it
was kind of a shock when we were actually civil to each
other for a change.

"Promise me you won't tell mom and dad what Sky said," I
begged. "Please."

She hesitated.

"You GOTTA promise, Sherrie!" I hadn't called her that in
years, since the 4 Seasons' hit was on the radio.

She looked up at me and smiled. "I promise, Wil," she said,
quietly.

I kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks, Sherrie. And I'm
really sorry for yelling at you the other day. I'll try to
make it up to you."

I wracked my brain for something I could give her. "I know
-- you can bring your stupid friends over to watch 'The
Monkees' tomorrow night."

Her eyes widened. We had fought about this for months. "Oh,
thanks, Wil!" she squealed. "Isn't Davy Jones cute?"

Yeah, he's cute alright, I thought. "Just don't tell
anybody about... you know," I said as seriously as I could.

Sharon nodded and ran back to her doll collection. I
sighed. Maybe my stupid little sister was finally getting
smarter as time went on, I thought.

                        *   *   *

Late Sunday afternoon, I tossed the last of my school books
in a pile on my desk. If nothing else, I now felt totally
prepared for all the mid-term exams this week. In fact, I
thought I had a fighting chance of acing at least half of
them. That'd be enough to pull my grade average up one
whole point. If I could make the Honor Roll, I bet my Dad
would shit a brick, I thought, laughing at the mental
image.

Just then, the phone rang again. Oh, shit, I thought. Sky
again.

"Wil!" my mom called from downstairs. "It's that Lannigan
boy."

"RICK OR RON?" I yelled through my door.

"Who knows?" she replied, exasperated. "Just get the phone,
will you, please?"

I sighed and stuck my head out my door. "Do I have to?"

My mother was all dressed up. She really looked great, even
though the mink coat was starting to look a little ragged.
"Yes, Wil! Your father and I have to go out," she said.
"Stay here and take care of your little sister until we get
back. I've left your dinner on the stove, and it'll be
ready in five minutes. We'll be back at ten."

I ran downstairs, slid all the way across the dining room
floor in my socks, stumbled over to the kitchen phone,
flipped the receiver up in the air with one hand and caught
it with the other, and still managed to avoid falling on my
ass. I grinned at my mom, who stared at me open-mouthed,
then laughed, shook her head, and walked out the back door.

"Hello?" I said.

"Wil! It's me, Ron," he said excitedly. "Jesus, we heard
about what happened, man! Are you okay?"

Shit. Bad news travels fast, I thought. "How'd you find out
about my fight with Sky, Ron?" I whispered.

Ron laughed, his goofy laugh. "I heard it from Mr. Waverly
on Channel D."

I rolled my eyes. Ronnie was nuts about that TV show, _The
Man from U.N.C.L.E.,_ and for the last two weeks, he had
settled on a career as an agent for a top secret world-wide
spy organization.

"Can it, Ron!" I hissed. "Tell me who told you, asshole!
And don't say 'The National Enquirer'!"

Ron immediately backtracked. "Shit -- I'm sorry, Wil," he
said. "A friend of Rick's just told us he saw you comin'
out of the drugstore with your Dad yesterday. He said you
had a black eye and your mouth looked all puffy. I figured
you had an accident or somethin'."

Or something, I thought. "It's nothing. Forget about it," I
said, wearily.

"_Sky_ did this to you?" he asked, incredulously.

"Shut up, Ron. I don't want to talk about it."

"Wil... I..." Ron sounded like he was on the verge of
tears. "Wil, do you want me to come over or something?"

"No, just leave me alone, Ronnie," I sighed. "Maybe we can
get together over the Christmas break. At least I won't
have to go to swim practice for the next couple of weeks.
They're remodeling and repainting the swimming pool for the
winter."

"I should come over now," he said, insistently.

I shook my head. On the other hand, my parents were going
to be out for another three hours, and...

"I can be there in five minutes," he whispered.

"You don't have to whisper, Ron."

"You can never tell," he giggled. "There are spies from
THRUSH everywhere!" he said, in Maxwell Smart's voice.

I laughed. "You mean KAOS, don't you?"

"Aaaaa, THRUSH, KAOS, SPECTRE..." he said, giggling. "You
seen one evil secret spy organization, you seen 'em all!"
We both laughed.

"Alright, Ronnie," I said, finally playing along. "But
don't get caught or killed on your way over, or the
secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions."

"Your telephone will self-destruct in five seconds! Good
luck, Wil!" he said, slamming down the receiver.

                        *   *   *

Ten minutes later, me, Ronnie and Sharon sat around our
kitchen table, eating leftover meatloaf. For a little
shrimpy guy, Ron could sure cram a lot down, I thought.

"You guys have a neat house," he said, stuffing his mouth
with a second helping of instant mashed potatoes.

"Not as cool as your house, Ron," I pointed out. "You've
got a pool, and a huge bedroom, and all that stuff."

He looked up at me, surprised. "No, really, Wil," he said,
without a trace of sarcasm. "Your house is really cool. It
just feels... I dunno, real friendly. And you guys have a
lotta neat books, too."

I nodded and glanced over at the dozens of bookshelves that
lined the wall in the adjoining room. "Yeah, Mom and Dad
have tons of this stuff," I said, sticking the serving fork
into another slice of meatloaf. "My mom was an English
major in college, so she still has a bunch of books on
literature and stuff. Plus, we inherited some stuff from my
great aunt, who was a teacher, so we wound up with three
sets of encyclopedias. I read 'em a lot when I was little,
and so I sort of memorized them."

"Ah, yes -- another mystery solved, Watson!" he exclaimed,
in a fair impression of Basil Rathbone. "So that's why
you're such a brain!" Ronnie's eyes sparkled with
admiration.

"Wil's a genius!" interrupted Sharon from across the table.
"A su-per gen-i-us!" My little sister giggled with laughter
at her own joke.

I shot her a glance. "Just eat your dinner, Sharon!" I
grumbled.

"Well, that's what mommy and daddy say," she muttered,
playing with her food.

Ronnie nodded approvingly. "Are you like Albert Einstein?"
he asked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "No way. I still hate math.
I'm definitely no scientist," I said. "I'm better with
History and English for some reason. It's weird. Some stuff
just comes easily to me in school, like I don't even have
to think -- like it's just _there_ in my head already. But
I have to admit, I learn a lot of stuff from books."

Ron leaned towards me and whispered quietly. "I know some
stuff that you can't learn from books." He shot me a
knowing glance and grinned.

Sharon looked up. "What are you boys talking about?" she
asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing, Sharon! Eat your damned food," I snapped.

She pouted and started idly poking a meatlof patty on her
plate.

"I'm sorry, Sharon," I said, apologetically. "Look, it's
just dumb 'boy stuff,' OK? Ronnie and I'll come down in
awhile and wash the dishes. Just finish your food, and then
you can watch TV."

She nodded and took a bite. Ron looked expectantly at me
and I nodded up towards the stairs. We dumped our plates by
the sink, then ran up to my room and closed the door.

"Wow," he said, bouncing up and down on my bed. "This is a
really neat room, Wil! Where'd you get all those cool
monster movie posters on the wall?" he asked.

"You need the proper atmosphere for horror. And zees is a
horrible place, especially for young boys!" I said, in my
best Bela Lugosi. "Cheeldren of the night... vot muzik dey
make!"

He laughed uproariously and laid back on the bed. "So, Wil,
do you wanna... you know... do some stuff?" he said, shyly.

"NO!" I yelled.

Ron recoiled and shrank back from me. He looked like a dog
that had just been swatted by a newspaper, hard.

"Shit, Ronnie. I'm sorry," I said, sitting on the bed.
Tears came to my eyes, and I looked down, embarrassed. "I'm
just freaked out about what happened."

He sat closer and looked me right in the eye. "Tell me the
whole story," he said, in a small voice.

I gave him all the gory details, including my workout at
the gym, fat Chuckie trying to molest me, and then finally
what happened with me and Sky in the whirlpool.

Ron was dumbstruck. "He hit you... for doing THAT to him?"

I nodded, as I felt a tear slide down the right side of my
face. "I totally fucked everything up, Ronnie." I was
trembling now. "I never should've done it. I was just so
horny!" I sobbed, shaking my head. "Sky wanted it, I swear,
and then he _didn't_ want it! He acted like I was a fucking
leper!"

Ron sat there, silent. "Sky's a total jerk, you know," he
said, quietly.

"He is NOT!" I hissed.

He looked at me with an expression that shocked me. Ron's
face burned red with anger, with an intensity that I didn't
think he could possibly have.

"They all are -- Sky, Scott Michaels... they're all stupid
fuckin' jocks, Wil!" He spat out the words. "They're not
like us. They're assholes, Wil," he said, angrily.

I shook my head. "You don't know Sky," I said, wiping my
tears away.

"No," he insisted. "YOU don't know him. Not anymore. He's
one of them." Ronnie pointed over to the wall.

I glanced over at my _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_
poster. I smiled, sadly. "You mean he's turned into a pod
person?"

Ronnie nodded and slid closer to me, then gently put his
arm around my shoulder. I began to cry, and he turned to
hug me. I couldn't hold it back any longer. My body heaved
with sobs, and he squeezed me tighter. Tears fell from my
face and rolled down to his neck and shoulders. I put my
arms around him and wept as if my heart was breaking. I
cried for me, I cried for Sky, and I cried for anybody who
knew what it was like to be in love with somebody who could
never love them back. We stayed locked in an embrace for
almost a minute, until my sobs finally grew quieter.

"I guess now's not a good time to ask if I could blow you,
right?" he whispered.

I laughed, wiping the tears from my face. "I'm out of
commission, Ronnie," I said, my voice cracking. "No way
that periscope's ever going to come up tonight. I'm too out
of it."

Ron grinned. "Lemme take a voyage to see what's on the
bottom," he laughed. He got up and turned off the overhead
light, leaving only my dim desk lamp on. Then, he slowly
walked back over, imitating the 'ping' of an underwater
SONAR beacon until he got back to the bed.

I giggled and weakly tried to stop him as he leaned towards
me. "No, really, forget it, Ronnie," I protested, as he
pulled my shirt off my head. He threw the shirt on the
floor, then unzipped me and gently pulled my pants down.
Suddenly, I felt something warm nuzzling my groin. I tried
vainly to sit up.

"Oh, god, Ronnie..." I moaned. I needed it so bad.

"Shut up," he ordered, and gently but firmly pushed me back
down on the bed. I looked up, but all I could see was the
silhouette of his red-haired head bobbing up and down in
the darkness. I knew he had me just where he wanted me. I
felt him take all of me, right down to the hilt; how a kid
as small as Ron managed to do this so effortlessly, I'll
never know. I closed my eyes and surrendered completely.

I couldn't tell you how much time passed. It might have
been three minutes, or even three hours. Time just didn't
matter. I looked down to the side in a daze, and saw that
he was as stiff as an iron rod, stroking himself back and
forth in time with the pleasure he gave to me. I gently put
my hand on the back of his head and stroked his red curls.
Ronnie tenderly reached out and ran his finger tips across
my underarms, which were moist with sweat, then massaged my
chest, lightly squeezing my nipples. He picked up the pace,
then slipped his hands under my buttocks, gripped tightly,
and pulled me closer. That did it. I felt my balls tighten
and I began bucking my hips, completely out of control.

"GOD, Ronnie!" I yelled. "Oh, shit!"

I exploded, over and over again, and I finally sank back
down in a heap on the bed. It was easily most exhilarating
orgasm of my young life, at least up to then.

Ron leaned over, his face shiny with saliva and goo, as he
licked his lips and grinned wickedly at me.

"You actually _like_ the taste of that stuff?" I asked,
woozily.

"Well," he said, as he smacked his lips and thought for a
moment, "it's not as good as the mashed potatoes."

We both laughed hysterically. Then he leaned over and got
very close to me. "I... I really like you, Wil. A lot."

I nodded and put my left arm around his back. He leaned
closer, and we tilted our heads together and closed our
eyes. Our lips met, and I felt warm all over. A split-
second later, the door flew open with a loud crash.

"WIL!" Sharon yelled, as light suddenly flooded in from the
hallway. "It's Sky again, for you on the phone!"

"GODDAMIT, SHARON!" I screamed. "I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK OR
ELSE I'D FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Ron literally looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sharon stared at the two of us, then slammed the door and
ran down the hall. I heard the door to her room slam in the
distance.

Fuck, I thought. Had she seen us? Had she seen _me_?

"Oh god, oh Jesus, oh god, oh GOD, Wil, I swear, I'm so
sorry, I'm so fuckin' sorry!" Ron babbled endlessly, as he
jumped off the bed and yanked up his pants in the darkness.

Great, I thought. Now, I'd have to kill myself for sure. I
looked over at the little bottle of yellow pain pills on my
night stand. 'Not to be taken with alcohol,' I read off the
label. Hmmm, I figured the 15 that were left, plus a half a
bottle of vodka would probably do it, I thought.

Ron's babbling snapped me out of my suicide rehearsal and
back to reality. I quickly pulled up my underwear and short
pants, zipped up my fly, then jumped off the bed and tried
to console Ronnie, who was in near-hysterics in my chair,
his head in his hands.

"Oh, SHIT, Wil! I've ruined your fuckin' life!" he wailed.
"I swear, I'll never do it again! I'm so fucking sorry!
What've I done?"

I tried to think as calmly as I could. "Ronnie! Listen to
me! Don't panic," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.
"First, just shut up and let me get the phone. The less we
make of this, the less it'll affect Sharon. Let me handle
it."

He nodded but continued to sob quietly as I ran out the
door and took the stairs three at a time.

I took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Sky?" I said.

"Fuck! Wil, oh, shit, I'm so glad it's you!" he cried.
"Listen, about Friday, I swear to god..."

"Forget it happened," I said, icily. "It's forgotten."

He paused. "I'm sorry for everything, man -- really. Is
your mouth okay?"

I felt my lip. Well, at least the swelling had gone down.
"Well, I no longer look like Rondo Hatton," I quipped,
referring to the real-life horror actor.

"Rondo _who?_" he asked, perplexed.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'm okay. My teeth are
fine. In fact, they'll be better than fine. They're going
to make me wear a retainer."

"That's great," he replied, sounding relieved.

We were both silent for a moment.

"Is that it?" I asked, exasperated.

"Yes. No, wait -- there's one more thing," he said,
hesitatingly.

Here it comes, I thought. "Sky, I told you, it's
forgotten," I said. "I swear, it won't happen again. Nobody
will ever find out about it."

"Mid-term exams are all next week," he blurted, a touch of
desperation in his voice.

What the fuck was he talking about? "Yeah, so?" I snapped.

"Can you... you know, help me out in English?" he begged.

I started, "well, if you want a copy of my notes and stuff,
I can tell you what topics are gonna be covered on
Tuesday."

"That's not what I meant," Sky said, nervously. "I mean...
with the test."

I felt like I was slowly turning to stone. "You mean you
want to _cheat_ off me," I said, as coldly and angrily as I
could.

"Please, Wil?" he begged, a touch of desperation in his
voice. "I just gotta get my grades up, or I might lose my
slot on the team. This means everything to me." His voice
softened. "Please. I'll do anything you want, Wil," he
said. "Anything," he whispered, emphasizing the word.

My heart stopped. Did he mean...? It finally sunk in.

"I get it, Sky," I hissed. "So I'm a fag, and now you're a
whore. Is that it?"

"Shut up, you asshole," he spat. "That's not what I said,
and you know it."

"But that's what you _meant,_ right?" God, I hated him so
much.

"No... wait..." he cried. "I don't know what the fuck I
want, Wil! Look, can't we, you know, be friends? Like
before?" His tone was pleading, now. I almost heard him
choke back some tears.

"Yeah. Friends to the end," I muttered.

"Great!" he said, trying desperately to sound cheerful.
"So, I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Yeah." I hung up the phone and trudged back upstairs.

                        *   *   *

As it turned out, Ronnie and I had managed to dodge the
bullet. Sharon hadn't seen a thing. I guess Ron's
spontaneous idea of keeping the lights low in my room was
smarter than I thought. I apologized to her again -- three
times in one day, that was a record for me -- after she
swore that all she'd seen was me crying and Ronnie putting
his arm around my shoulder. At least, that's what she
thought she saw.

"Ronnie's a really good friend to you," she said, wisely.

I nodded and grinned. "Yeah. I know, Sherrie. Just please
do me a favor and knock on my door from now on?"

She smiled and put an imaginary 'X' across her chest.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," she said, as sincerely as
she could.

I gave her a hug and went back to my room. Ron was
immensely relieved to find out that our little liaison was
still a secret. This was a job even the 'Impossible
Missions Force' couldn't have pulled off, I thought. Now,
all I had to do was deal with Sky... or _not_ deal with
him, as the case may be.

I walked Ron out to the front porch and said goodnight to
him.

"I meant what I said back there, Wil," he said, still
sniffling.

I nodded. "I know, Ronnie. Look," I said, "maybe we should,
you know, kinda cut back except for real special occasions,
y' know?"

"Yeah." He looked down at his feet. "You still wanna hang
out?"

I grinned. "Sure! As long as you promise to hire the
infamous Ernst Stavro Blofeld to have SPECTRE terminate
Scott Michaels, and then implicate Sky Jones!" I said,
laughing.

"Consider it done, comrade," he said grimly. "Both of ze
traitors vil be shot at dawn, mit out a blindfold or a last
cigarette."

"No, leave Sky alone, Ronnie," I said, seriously.

Ron stared at me. "You still _like_ him, after all this?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know how I feel about
anything," I replied wearily. "Just go home, and avoid all
enemy agents."

"Javolt, mein herr!" Ron clicked his heels together and
gave me the Nazi salute, then ran off, taking a shortcut
over our hedge and down the sidewalk. God, that kid was
wacky, I thought, as I shut the door, shaking my head.



Chapter 8

There was a disturbing feeling of barely-controlled panic
around the school on Monday, since this was the last week
before Christmas vacation and "exam fever" was in the air.
Jesus, I desperately needed two weeks off, I thought.
Between swim practice and trying to keep my grades up, I
felt like I never had any goof-off time to myself at all
anymore.

Tuesday was the start of exams. I aced 2nd period
Geography, because 90% of that test was just memorization,
filling in a bunch of empty maps of the world. Piece of
cake. I didn't have to worry about Algebra until tomorrow,
which was a lucky break; that one was probably going to
kill me. I missed seeing Sky at lunch, which was just as
well. I still hadn't totally forgiven him for what happened
last week.

Ronnie seemed quieter than usual as we walked to American
History after lunch. "You're covered on the War of 1812,
right, Ron?" I asked. He looked totally lost in thought.
"Hey, doofus!" I said, waving my fingers in front of his
face, "I said, are you cool on the War of 1812?"

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, France, Louisiana Purchase... I
know the whole deal. I saw the movie," he said. "Bob Hope
was in charge."

I shook my head. This kid was a total media addict. I blew
through the history exam in about half an hour, including
the five essay questions, then I sat there, nervously
glancing around the classroom. Every set of eyes but mine
was still glued to their test papers. Shit, I thought. I
hated being the brain. Why did I always have to be the
first idiot to turn in my test to the teacher?

I took another five minutes to re-check my answers, then
idly watched the second hand slowly inch its way around the
clock. Finally, I'd had enough. I stood to my feet and
accidentally knocked my notebook to the floor with a loud
crash.

Every eye suddenly snapped over to me, and the teacher, Mr.
Harnett, looked up from his desk and said, "Quietly!"

I nodded meekly and walked the paper up to the front of the
room. He nodded towards a tray on the left of his desk.
Just as I turned to leave, five more kids were already out
of their chairs and tossing their loose-leaf pages on top
of the pile.

I rolled my eyes. "It never fails," I grumbled, as I
returned to my seat.

Finally, English rolled around. I had to find a way to let
Sky cheat off my paper, while at the same time not making
it too obvious to anybody else. I didn't even want to tell
Ronnie, because I know he'd crack a joke or otherwise give
away our little scheme.

When we got to the classroom, Sky was already at his desk,
watching me cautiously.

"Hey," I said, as I took my seat.

"Hey," he said, with a nod. He stared at me, giving me a
look.

I sighed and nodded back. Sky looked relieved.

The teacher passed out the exam forms. Ah, nothing like the
unforgettable smell of ditto paper, I thought, sniffing the
stapled booklet. At least this one was readable, unlike the
world maps from 2nd period. Even though there were nearly
150 questions on the test, most of them had to do with
picking out obvious spelling and grammatical errors. Even
better, the whole thing was multiple choice. Just circle
the right answer, and move on. Piece of cake.

I shook my head and grinned. How could this be any easier?
I glanced to my left, and Sky was looking at me anxiously,
his pencil already in hand. I blew through the first page
in less than five minutes, then held my breath to see if
the coast was clear. Mrs. Kester seemed to be preoccupied,
grading papers from the previous class, using a cardboard
template to check the multiple-choice answers.

I idly lifted the right side of my paper up and angled it
slightly towards Sky, trying to make it look like I was
having trouble deciding the right answer for question 26,
the last one on the page. Without even looking, I heard Sky
go down the list, furiously circling all the correct
answers down the page.

One down, five pages to go, I thought. I shot him a glance,
and he nodded, expectantly. The rest of the class went down
uneventfully. Mrs. Kester even got up at one point and left
the room, leaving us on 'the honor system,' but the class
remained as quiet as a mouse while she was gone. Sky got
all my answers without a problem.

We were in the home stretch. I was just about to lift up
the last page when I heard a familiar voice at the back of
the room.

"Hold it! Mr. Jones and Mr. Larson! Put down your pencils
and come with me."

We froze in our seats and slowly turned around. It was
Coach Lucas, who was also the Dean of Boys.

Sky and I looked at each other with a look of total panic
in our eyes. We nervously stood up.

"Bring your test papers with you," he barked. Ronnie shot
me a stunned look, as I walked down the row of desks and
out into the hallway.

We walked down the last mile to the school administration
building in total silence until we reached Lucas' office
door. He opened it and pointed towards two empty chairs in
front of his desk. I looked around to see if his legendary
paddle was visible, infamous for scores of school
spankings. There it was, hanging by a hook on the wall,
just to the left of a filing cabinet. Great, I thought. The
one day I'd probably need my pain pills, and I'd left them
at home.

"I'm very disappointed in you two," he said, leaning
against his desk and crossing his arms. "Two Tampa Central
athletes, caught cheating on a mid-term exam! You know this
could cost both of you your positions on your teams?"

I started to protest our innocence, but Sky interrupted me.

"It was all me, Coach," he insisted. "Wil had nothing to do
with it. Leave him out of this."

The Coach laughed. It was a kindly laugh, but one that made
it clear: he'd already seen it all and heard it all in this
office. "Son, don't try to B.S. me," he quipped. "You can't
B.S. a B.S.'er, Schuyler."

"No, really," Sky insisted. "Wil didn't know I was copying
from him."

Lucas eyed me warily. "Is that your story, too, son?" he
asked, gently.

I glanced over at Sky, who gave me a little nod. I knew
what Sky wanted me to say. I turned back to Mr. Lucas.

"Yeah, Coach," I said, nervously. "I just... I was almost
finished with the exam, and I was just checking my
answers."

The Coach unfolded his arms and stared intently at both us.
After an uncomfortable pause, he finally said, "okay. Let's
just compare your test papers."

He sat down at his desk and scribbled some notes as he went
down each page. Sky sat in silence five feet away, but
refused to even look at me. My heart was in my throat.
Shit, I thought. I'd almost made peace with the guy, and
now this. I'd be lucky if Sky ever even spoke to me again
for the rest of my life.

At last, the Coach put down his pencil. "Boys, I'm sorry.
Both papers are about 90% identical. You," he said,
pointing to me, "you had almost a perfect score. Sky, you
were on your way to a B, at least. But your teacher said
you usually made D's, if that."

"But Coach..." I started.

"No buts, William," he said, raising his hand. "I'm going
to have to suspend you both. Even though you technically
weren't cheating, Wil, it takes two to tango. You're in
this as deep as Sky is."

Suddenly, his office door opened, and a mousy secretary
stuck her head in. "Mr. Lucas, I have Schuyler Jones'
father on the line."

Lucas frowned, and said, "I'll take that in just a minute."
The secretary closed the door, and he turned back to us.
This was looking real bad, I thought -- but then I had a
brainstorm.

"Coach... what if I could _prove_ we didn't cheat?" I
asked.

Sky looked like he was going to fall out of his chair.

The Coach smiled. "Well, now, son -- I'd say that'd be a
pretty good trick if you could do that," he replied.

"Let us take a make-up test," I said, picking up some steam
as my idea came together. "We'll sit on opposite sides of
the room. Give us different tests if you want. I swear, Sky
really knows the material. He can pass, I know it."

Mr. Lucas thought for a moment. Finally, he nodded. "Okay,"
he said. "I think Mrs. Kester would agree to that. Alright
-- Thursday, you two come in after school, and take the
test right here in my office. If you both pass, then you
can both stay on your teams. However, you'll still be on
probation, doing clean-up duty for an hour every day after
school, for the first ten days of January."

"Oh, man," started Sky, but I kicked him in the foot.

"That'd be fair, Coach," I said, quickly.

Sky nodded. We got up from our chairs.

"Schuyler," said the Coach, "I'll tell your father what
happened. Wil, take this disciplinary form home to your
parents to sign. I'll expect to see you both back in my
office at 3:45 sharp on Thursday."

We both stammered out our thanks, and Lucas walked us back
down the hall to class.

"I tried to keep you out of this, asshole!" Sky angrily
whispered, as we turned the corner.

"Shut up!" I shot back. "This is gonna work. Leave it to
me."

We reached the class and entered through the back door. Ron
shot me a glance as I got to my seat and sat down. He poked
me in the back and silently mouthed, "what happened?" I
just shook my head and stared straight ahead at the front
of the classroom. Coach Lucas took the teacher aside at the
front doorway, said a few words I couldn't overhear, and
she looked at us and nodded. Well, I thought. At least they
hadn't had us shot. On second thought, maybe that would've
been preferable.

A couple of minutes later, the bell sounded. Sky jumped out
of his seat and sprinted towards the door. I caught him
before he could get away and said, "hey, asshole! C'mere!"
I dragged him over to the side by a bookcase.

"Wil, I gotta go," he began. "Melissa is in my next class,
and I gotta..."

"You have to shut UP!" I said, angrily. "Listen to me, Sky.
I'm going to make you pass this test, even if it fucking
kills me! We're both up shit creek if either of us screws
up on this one."

Sky looked exasperated. "I'm gonna fail anyway, Wil! What's
the point?"

I felt like slugging him. "Because I'M not going to fail,
you douche! You're gonna come over to my place tonight and
tomorrow night, and I'm gonna pound your head full of
English, even if it kills me."

Sky sighed and threw up his hands in defeat. "Awright,
awright -- anything you say, professor. But I'm tellin' ya,
it won't work."

I looked him right in the eye. "Trust me," I said, testily.
"I get what I want."

Sky gave me a curious look, then said, "Okay, okay. I'll go
home with you today after school. See ya." He took off
through the door, not even giving me a second glance.

Why did life have to be this fucked up, I thought, shaking
my head.

"I still say he's an asshole," whispered Ron to my left,
almost making me jump.

"Where did YOU come from?" I yelled.

"Waitin' for you two to finish," he said, quietly.

"Well, we are now," I snapped. "C'mon, let's go to Phys Ed.
At least there, we don't have a written exam," I said,
breaking into a trot.

"He's an asshole!" Ron muttered, running alongside me in
the crowded hallway.

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

Will this pest ever give up, I thought.

"So what happened back there in English?" he asked, panting
as he tried to keep up with me.

I shook my head. "I don't even want to talk about it."

Ronnie kept after me as we ran into the locker room, which
was crowded as usual. I dressed in stony silence, and did
my best to ignore him -- never an easy job, even under the
best of circumstances.

"Will you tell me after it's published in the _National
Enquirer_?" he asked, angrily.

I'd had about enough. "Just shut the fuck up, Ronnie!" I
snapped.

"Fine!" he yelled back, and slammed his locker door. I
finished tying up my sneakers, and looked up to see that
Ron had already run outside. I guess I'd really pissed him
off this time, I thought. Well, good. The guy was so
fucking goofy, anyway. Such a pest. Even if he did lov...

NO, I thought. I'm not a homo. Neither was Ron. I cleared
my head and ran outside to join the others.

                        *   *   *

When the final bell rang, I was surprised to see Sky
waiting for me back in the locker room. He sat silently on
the bench as I got dressed. Ron completely ignored both of
us as he pulled on his street clothes, grabbed his gym bag,
and scurried away. Sky and I ran through the hall, and
barely made it to the bus in time. We made idle
conversation on the way to my house, never quite making eye
contact.

I didn't like this. For the first time since I had known
Sky, I felt totally uncomfortable even sitting next to him
on the bus. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye,
and I felt butterflies in my stomach again. If anything,
Sky was looking even better as he was getting older, while
I felt more like a geek than ever. The light caught his
face in just the right way as we turned down my street
corner, and I could see the beginnings of a blond moustache
on his upper lip.

"Hey," I said, pounding him on the arm. "Are you shaving
yet?"

He grinned and idly rubbed his upper lip with his index
finger. "Yeah, every couple of days or so," he nodded. "My
brother gave me his old safety razor last year, and said I
could use it. I almost cut the shit out of myself over the
weekend."

I felt a pang. I guess Sky was becoming a man, I thought.
Before I knew it, the driver sounded the buzzer and hit the
brakes. The pneumatic doors hissed open, and we scampered
down the steps and high-tailed it to my house. After
raiding the refrigerator for goodies, we camped out on the
floor of my bedroom, and I pulled out all my notes on
English 101 for the past four months.

Surprisingly, Sky was a pretty fast learner. We covered
punctuation, conjugation, and had almost worked our way up
to tenses when he glanced at the alarm clock by my bed.
"Holy shit," he cried, standing up. "Listen, I gotta go,
man. I promised Melissa I would see her today at 6. I told
her what happened to you and me today, and she's totally
pissed."

_She's_ totally pissed, I thought to myself. "Sky -- this
is a serious deal, man," I pleaded. "We got at least
another three or four more hours to go!"

He nodded. "I swear, I'll be back later. How late will your
folks let you stay up?"

I still had two more exams to study for, I thought. "Not
past 11, for sure."

"I'll be back by 9 -- 9:30, tops!" he yelled, running out
the door and down the staircase.

"You'd better, asshole!" I yelled, and heard our front door
slam in the distance.

Mom made me and Sharon TV dinners. Sharon was in a better-
than-normal mood, because Mom had actually let her do all
the cooking -- like shoving a tin-foil box into an oven for
20 minutes was an award-winning achievement. I wolfed down
the food and did my best to just tune them both out.

After dinner, I took Mom aside and gave her the
disciplinary form Dean Lucas had given me. She looked a
little upset, but took it better than I expected. I was
lucky that Dad wouldn't be home until much later. I
promised her I'd ace the make-up exam on Thursday, and that
I still stood a good chance of making the Honor Roll for
the first time.

I spent the next hour trying to study in my room, but all I
could do was think about Sky. We were drifting apart, we
were both changing, and I didn't know how to stop it. I
sighed, slammed the door shut, then sat back in my chair
and idly started playing with myself. God, I thought, it
felt great. I hadn't done it in at least two days, and I
couldn't concentrate on anything. Only one way to clear my
head, I thought.

I pulled down my pants and began stroking in earnest. In
seconds, it sprang up to its full length, hard as a rock
and ready for action. I leaned back in the chair and let my
speed increase. It felt good, but... something wasn't
right. I slowed down my strokes and looked down. My pride
and joy looked bigger than ever; it was so hard, it looked
like it was ready to burst. I ached with desire. What could
be wrong?

I was still too distracted, I thought -- still thinking
about the make-up exam. I looked around for one of my Dad's
old _Playboys_, but then I had a better idea. I'd only
tried this once before, but I sure felt horny enough to try
it again. I removed my shirt and pants and sat down on the
bed. I took a deep breath, leaned all the way back, and let
my knees roll back over my head. Almost without any effort,
my mouth reached the target, and I slurped it hungrily. Oh,
god, YES, I thought. That's what I needed.

I pulled my hips down closer to my face, and felt a moan
starting in the back of my throat. The bedsprings squeaked
noisily as I pounded my groin deeper and deeper against my
face. I tried to ignore the dull pain in my lower back, as
I felt the warning bells of an impending orgasm. My groans
got louder, my thrusts more insistent, until finally --
yes, yes, I was almost there... here it comes...

"Hey, Wil, I'm back!" yelled Sky, who burst through my door
and into my room. I let out a loud yell, fell right off the
bed and hit the floor with a loud thud, sending a three-
foot arc of sperm into the air. Sky laughed hysterically,
and quickly slammed the door.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" I screamed. I sputtered, got back
to my feet and cried, "Sky, you could at least knock on the
door, asshole!"

He was practically crying with laughter. "You shoulda seen
the look on your FACE!" he guffawed, sinking to his knees
and pounding his fist on the ground.

"Oh, shut UP!" I hissed, grabbing my T-shirt to clean up
the gooey mess. It was all over my chest, on the bedspread,
and in a long straight puddle on the carpet. Ignoring his
hysterical laughter, I grabbed my shorts and pulled them
back up. "Cut it out, Sky," I muttered. "We gotta get back
to studying for the test, goddammit!" My face burned with
embarrassment.

"You looked like you were studying your DICK to me, Wil!"
he laughed, and started pounding the floor again.

I was ready to knock his head off, even if he was about 25%
bigger than me. "Sky, _listen_ to me!" I snapped, angrily.
"We're both in big trouble here, man. We've gotta get you
totally up to speed in English, or we'll both get
suspended."

He nodded and finally got up off the floor and sat down in
my chair, his laughter turning to little gasps and wheezes.
"You know," he said, admiringly, "if I could do that to
myself, I'd probably never leave the house."

The whole situation was too stupid for us to fight about. I
finally gave up trying to keep a straight face, and
grinned.

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe having this thing does have its
advantages." I chuckled and squeezed my shorts, revealing
an large, obscene outline against the fabric.

Sky giggled.

"C'mon, man," I said, letting go of my pants and reaching
for a textbook. "We still have a lot of material to cover."

"Okay, okay," he said, putting his hands up in mock
surrender. "I'll learn English if you'll learn to start
lockin' your door."

I finally started laughing, sat down on the bed, and
grabbed the handbook. "Okay, you ready?" I asked, trying to
stifle my own giggling. "'Intro to Tenses,'" I read.

"You still look a little 'tense' to me, Wil," he teased.

"I was, but not anymore," I said, and we both dissolved
into more laughter. We stopped when my mom knocked loudly
on the door.

"Boys!" she yelled.

"Yeah, Mom?" I replied, guiltily.

"I'd like to hear more studying and less goofing off in
there, please! And Wil, tell Schuyler he's only got an hour
before he has to leave. Both of you have an 11PM curfew on
weeknights!"

"Yes, Mrs. Larson," he said, meekly.

                        *   *   *

Our studying continued without incident. Much to my
surprise, Sky came back the following afternoon, just after
5:00, and we finished early, at 10PM. After I closed the
last workbook, he lay on his back on my bed, with his arms
folded behind his head, and he flashed me one of his
million-dollar grins.

"Shit, Wil," he said. "If they'd just explained English the
way you did, I could've learned this shit a long time ago."

I grinned. "Conjugate the verb 'to shit,'" I commanded.

Sky giggled. "'I shit, you shit, we shit, they all shit.'"

He ran down the entire list -- Present Perfect, Past
Perfect, Future Progressive, the works. I laughed and sat
down on the bed. "Well, that's a shitty way to pass, but if
I were you, I'd take anything at this point," I said,
grinning.

"You really think this'll work, Wil?" he said, getting
serious for a moment.

I nodded. "I swear, Sky, I think you know the material
about as well as I do now."

Sky sat up and looked at me thoughtfully. "You didn't have
to do this, you know," he said, quietly. "You still
could've gotten out of this."

I shook my head glumly. "No, I couldn't," I said. "This was
the best deal we could've gotten from Mr. Lucas. Shit, I
was amazed he didn't just suspend us and send us home on
the spot!"

Sky's nodded, sat next to me, and looked at me right in the
eye. Jesus, I never noticed how intensely blue his eyes
were. They practically radiated in this light, I thought.
Piercingly blue.

"I'm... I'm really sorry for punchin' you the other day,"
he said.

I closed my eyes at the memory and turned away. "I told
you, it's already forgotten."

Sky put his arm around my shoulder. "No, it's not. It was
my fault, too. I could've told you to stop, but I didn't."
His eyes softened. "Part of me must've really wanted it,"
he said, softly.

I nodded, and I felt my eyes well up with tears.

"But part of me _doesn't_ want it, Wil!" he continued. "We
should... we should be goin' out with girls and stuff."

I winced. "Girls think I'm an idiot," I sighed. "I look
like a dork."

"No, you don't!" he said. "Look over here."

He dragged me over to the mirror over my dresser drawers. I
stared at the two boys reflected back to me. One had white-
blond hair, blond eyebrows, blue eyes, a strong jaw,
perfect teeth, and a dazzling face. The other was at least
4 inches shorter, had light brown hair, glasses, and looked
like a total geek.

I shook my head. "I look like shit," I moaned.

"Not to me," he said. "You've got a good body, with wide
shoulders. You're not fat. Your face isn't that bad. Look
again," he said, pulling off my horn-rimmed glasses.

I leaned closer to get the image in focus, and took a good
look. Maybe I wasn't so bad, I mused. I dunno if I'd use
the word "cute," but I definitely wasn't ugly.

"You could start by losin' the glasses," he said. "My
brother wears contacts, and I guarantee you, he's a total
doofus when he wears glasses."

Hmmm. I hadn't considered that. "Aren't contact lenses
expensive?" I asked.

"Hey, my Dad's an eye doctor," he reminded me. "I bet he
could get you a deal."

"How much would that be?" I asked.

"I think $100 -- $150 tops," he said.

Well, my folks did say they'd reward me if I could make the
honor roll. What the hell. "Alright," I said, punching him
in the arm. "You've sold me. I take it you get a commission
on this stuff?"

"Fat chance." Sky checked his wristwatch. "Holy shit, it's
10:30!" he said, reaching for the door. "I'll ask my dad
about it the moment I get home." Sky tore off downstairs,
and I went after him like a rocket, bounding down two steps
at a time.

I caught up with him before he reached the porch, just as
he opened the front door. My parents were sitting in the
living room, engrossed in some bad Western on TV. They
couldn't see us standing on the other side of the door. I
stood close to him and whispered.

"Thanks, Sky," I said quietly. Our eyes were just inches
apart.

"It's _me_ who should be thanking you," he whispered. "I
was such an asshole."

I felt his warm breath against my face. He smelled of
peppermints, and spices, and some other sweet
unidentifiable odor. He put his right hand on my shoulder
and gave me a light squeeze.

A tear rolled down my right cheek. He leaned forward, and I
closed my eyes and braced myself. For a moment, I felt his
warm breath on my face.

"I... I gotta go, man," he said.

I looked up just as he pulled himself away and jogged down
the front porch steps.

"3:45, tomorrow, in Lucas' office!" he yelled, running down
the sidewalk and off in the distance.

I wiped away my tears, went back into the house, and slowly
trudged up the stairs.

"I'm glad you and Schuyler were able to settle your
differences," called my Dad from the living room.

"Yeah, right," I mumbled, as I turned down the hallway. I
never felt more different in my life, I thought. I slammed
my door and fell down on my bed and into exhausted sleep.

                        *   *   *

The make-up exam after school on Thursday started out
pretty brutal. Coach Lucas made us sit on opposite sides of
his office, a good 12 feet apart, and kept his eyes on both
of us like a hawk. Me and Sky would have to use a radio
transmitter or sign language to beat this one, I thought.

Just as on the first exam, I made it through all 150
questions in a little more than twenty minutes. I looked
up, and Sky was still chewing on his pencil and staring at
the first page. A cold chill shot down my spine. I went
back and double-checked all my answers, and tried to
mentally concentrate on each one as hard as I could.

"C'mon, Sky," I thought, trying to focus whatever mental
energy I had. "Imagine you're back in my room, going over
the topics with me just like we did yesterday." Lucas
coughed suddenly, and Sky stifled a nervous chuckle. I
looked up and he grinned at me, then went back to the page
and began marking down some answers.

After another agonizing half-hour, Sky finally put down his
pencil. Lucas took both of our test papers and disappeared
into the other room. When the coast was clear, my friend
shot me a glance. "Pssst!" he whispered. "If I pass this,
I'll owe you, big-time!"

I grinned, wiggled my eyebrows, and pointed down to my
groin. He rolled his eyes and pantomimed a blow-job, making
a fist in front of his mouth, then poked his tongue inside
his mouth and made his cheek bulge out. I felt a little
tingle of excitement down below, and I giggled nervously.

Five agonizingly long minutes passed. Lucas came back into
the room with a file folder, leaned against his desk, and
gave us a grim look. Sky and I sat up at attention.

"Boys..." the coach said, finally grinning, "you both
passed. In fact, you did _better_ than pass. Wil, you
missed just one question out of 150. You get an A+." The
coach smiled broadly and gave me a nod.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"Schuyler," Lucas said, turning to my friend, who had a
huge, shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm afraid you didn't
do quite as well."

Sky's face fell.

"You only made a B+," the coach said, trying not to laugh.
"But, according to Mrs. Kester, that's the best you've done
all year. That raises your quarterly grade up to a C. You
both stay on your teams."

Sky and I leapt out of our chairs and let out a whoop of
victory.

"Not so fast!" Lucas yelled. "There's still the little
matter of detention. I want you to meet me here in my
office, every day at 3:45PM, when the second semester
begins on Monday the 6th. There's more than enough work to
keep you two busy around the school, cleaning up the
grounds and the litter around the building. You'll be on
detention detail for two weeks. You miss a single day, and
I'll kick your butts all the way back here to the
principal's office."

We nodded meekly, and muttered our "Yes, sirs."

The coach grinned, then his tone grew more serious. "Boys,
listen to me," he said. "There's just one day of school
left for the year, and you two had better not screw up one
bit. I've got my eye on both of you!"

Lucas looked like he meant business.

"Now, get out of here! Scram!" he yelled. "I've got better
things to do than hang around with you two troublemakers."
He grinned and shook his head.

We grabbed our notebooks and ran out of his office to the
hallway. It was already 4:30, so the entire school was
deserted. A janitor swept up the hallway just ahead of us.

"Jesus, Wil," said Sky, who almost seemed to be in a state
of shock. "I was so scared I'd blown the whole test."

That's not all you could blow, I thought. "I knew you could
do it, man," I said, grinning. "You're not as much of a
dumb jock as you look!" I punched him playfully in the arm.

"No, I mean it, man," he said, stopping while I grabbed a
sip from the water fountain. "You totally saved my ass."

"Sky," I said, wiping off my mouth on my sleeve, "you did
it yourself. I just gave you the basic information, and you
figured it out on your own. It's not a big deal."

He grabbed a sip from the fountain, and we continued
walking out to the sidewalk. "It is to _me_," he argued. "I
owe you big-time for this, and I know just how to pay you
back. It's what I think you really need."

My heart fluttered for a moment. What was he saying? I felt
a twinge between my legs.

"Melissa's got this friend," he continued. "She's really
cute. Her name's Cynthia -- I think she's in your 5th
period American History class," he explained.

Shit. I tried to search my memory bank for her face. Was
that the Chinese girl who sat to my right? No, it must be
the one with the glasses two rows behind me.

I shook my head. "Girls don't dig me," I said. I'm not even
sure I dig girls, I thought.

"No, she really does!" he insisted. "She told Melissa she
thought you were really cool, that you were the smartest
kid in the whole class."

"I'm just a little know-it-all twerp," I muttered, as we
strolled past the front of the school.

Sky stopped and wiggled his eyebrows. "She knows you're not
that 'little,'" he laughed.

I shook my head in disbelief. "You didn't tell her about
my..." I sighed.

He laughed, his wonderful infectious laugh. I sighed.
Jesus, it was great to see Sky so happy again.

"Fuck, Wil. I think the whole school knows about you and
'little Wil,'" he said, playfully poking my crotch. "You
can't keep something that big a secret for long."

I sighed. "So what do you have in mind?" I asked,
nervously.

"The Freshman/Sophomore Christmas dance is next Tuesday,
Christmas Eve," he said. "I'll set it all up. Me and my
Dad'll pick you up in his car at 7PM, sharp, and we'll have
Melissa and Cynthia with us."

I blanched. "I... I can't dance worth a shit, Sky," I
stammered.

"Trust me," he laughed. "If I can learn English 101, you
can fake it at the dance. C'mon, you already know all the
music, Wil! Just move to the beat!" he said, snapping his
fingers several times.

I'd rather beat-off, I thought.

He leaned forward and put his hand on my shoulder,
affectionately. "I guarantee you'll really like Cynthia,
Wil," he said. "She's really neat. Actually, I think she
might be outta your league." He giggled.

I shot him a withering glance.

"I'm kidding! KIDDING!" he said, putting up his hands in
mock protest.

It took him another five blocks' worth of arguing and
cajoling, but Sky eventually calmed me down and got me to
agree to go to the dance. We stopped off at his place to
grab a Coke, and I ran the rest of the way home.

Once back in the peace and quiet of my room, I clicked on
the radio and fell back on my bed. A jingle pealed out of
the speaker, and the fast-talking WLCY deejay said, "and
now, with the first of seven in a row, here's the biggest
dance hit of the year! Tommy James and The Shondelles
with... 'Mony Mony'!"

The opening drum beats pounded out of the speaker. Almost
involuntarily, I started tapping my foot. After a few
seconds, I started singing along with the melody, and I
began to smile. Finally, I jumped off the bed, and did a
pantomime of the way I thought Tommy would perform the
song, watching every move of my performance in my mirror.

"I said yeah...
YEAH!
Yeah... YEAH!
yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-YEAH...

She makes me feel... (Mony-Mony)
so... (Mony-Mony)
good! (Mony-Mony)"

After I bumped and grinded around the room for a couple of
minutes, the song finally ended and I fell back on the bed
and laughed -- _really_ laughed -- for the first time in
days. Maybe this wasn't going to be a total disaster, after
all.

				     #