Date: Fri, 12 Jan 2007 11:44:51 -0500
From: ronyx <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: Love on Trial   Chapter 10

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave
and find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights
to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Write Ron at
ronyx@woh.rr.com with your comments.  Ronyx is a Nifty prolific writer.

Visit my website:  www.themustardjar.com



Love on Trial             Chapter 10



I awoke early Tuesday morning knowing that it would probably be one of
the most awkward days I would ever have to live through. I tried to tell
myself that no one really cared, except for Stephanie; but I knew I'd
only be kidding myself.

As usual, Dad and Mom were supportive. Dad even volunteered to drive me
to school and go in and talk to the principal; but I told him I'd try
and handle things on my own. I was prepared for some ribbing and teasing.
It just comes with the territory of being a teenager. I just wasn't
prepared for how cruel some people could be.

I trembled all the way to school. It was a miracle that I wasn't
involved in an accident. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my
palms were sweaty and I was visibly shaking.

When I entered the building, students began to immediately stare at me. I
heard one girl ask her friend, "Is that him." Then they disappeared
down the hallway giggling. One boy, who was standing beside his locker,
grabbed his cock and winked at me. My face began to burn with
embarrassment.

I thought about turning around and going home, when Cynthia walked up and
grabbed my arm. "Are you alright?" She looked in my face with concern.

"Just don't ask me to kiss you." I tried to make a joke. "I don't
think it's going to work today."

"I've got your books." She handed me the books I'd need for the
morning classes.

"I've got to put some things in my locker." I turned to walk away, but
she grabbed my arm, stopping me.

"Don't go to your locker, Taylor." She sounded desperate. "Let's go
to class." I looked into her eyes and could see the anguish in them.

"Something's wrong." I pulled away and walked down the hallway.
Students started giggling as they parted a path for me. I stopped
suddenly when I was before my locker.

Someone had spray painted it pink; and then in purple paint had written
the words, `fag' and `cocksucker' on it. I could hear laughter all
around me as my eyes started welling with tears. Cynthia grabbed my arm
and tried to pull me away.

I turned and faced those around me. "Shut the Fuck Up! All of you! Fuck
all of you!" I threw down my books and went running down the hallway. I
could hardly see where I was going because of the tears in my eyes.
Suddenly, I felt a pair of arms grab me from behind and push me up
against a locker.

"Stop it, Taylor." I looked in the green eyes of Chris. He had me
pressed tightly to the wall. "Don't let them see your weakness.
They'll only prey on it." Through the haze of my tears, I could see the
stern determination in his eyes.

"I can't do this. They all know I`m a fag." I began to cry. He pulled
me away and walked me down the hall. I looked up and saw Mrs. Mason
motioning for him to take me into her room.

"Is he going to be alright?" I heard her ask Chris.

"Can we use your room to talk?" He asked her.

"Of course." She responded. "Let me put a note on the door for my
class to report to the library. Come get me if you need me."

"Thank you." He replied. He led me over to a desk and sat me down. Mrs.
Mason walked over to her desk, and then returned a minute later and
rubbed me on my back.

"It will be alright, Taylor." She said comfortingly. I put my head on
the desk and continued to cry.

"Maybe I should stay." She said to Chris.

"Let me talk to him." He insisted. "I promise to come get you if
anything happens."

She left and closed the door behind her. Chris pulled up a chair and sat
down beside me and began gently rubbing my back.

"Why, Chris?" I cried. "I didn't do anything to them. I got drunk
once and made a mistake. Now I have to live with this the rest of my
life."

"I know." He said quietly, as he continued to rub my back. "I wish I
had never had that stupid party."

"It's not your fault." I looked up and saw the concerned look on his
face. "Sooner or later something was going to happen. I just wish it
hadn't happened like it did."

"So you are in love with him?" He asked dejectedly. I couldn't quite
make out the expression on his face. I couldn't tell if it was one of
concern or sadness.

"I thought I was." I responded. "After this, I don't think I can ever
fall in love again." I buried my head in my hands and started to cry
again.

"Listen, Taylor." He took my head and raised it in his hands. His eyes
were also moist with tears.

"If you plan on getting through this," he said, "then you're going to
have to raise your head and walk tall. You can't let them see that
they're getting to you."

"Easy for you to say." I replied.

"No, it's not easy for me to say." He said. "You have no idea." I
watched as tears formed in his green eyes. "You have no idea." He said
again.

I sat up and wiped the tears from my eyes. "What am I going to do,
Chris?"

"I don't have an answer, Taylor." He said sadly. "But it's only
going to get worse if you keep reacting to everything they do and say."

"I'm not that strong, Chris." I looked up and met his eyes.

"Then I'll help you." He reached out and grabbed my hand and squeezed
it. I looked down as he began to rub my knuckles.

"Why do you want to ruin your reputation by helping me?" I questioned.

"What reputation?" He laughed. "Don't you remember? I'm the guy no
one ever talks to."

"But why do you want to help me?" I asked.

"I told you last night," he said, "I like you." I once again became
aware that he was still holding my hand and squeezing it tightly. When I
looked down, he let my hand loose, as his face began to redden.

"Sorry." He blushed.

Just then there was a soft knocking on the door. "Taylor, are you in
there?" It was Cynthia's voice. Chris looked at me as I nodded. He
walked over and opened the door.

"Is he alright?" Cynthia asked worriedly. "Mrs. Mason told me I could
find you here."

"He's really upset." Chris said as he looked over at me. "Can you
stay here for a few minutes while I go to the office and let them know
where we are? The last thing I need is for them to call my house and tell
my dad I'm not in school."

"Sure, I'll stay." Chris left the room as Cynthia sat down in the
chair beside me and grabbed my hand.

"Hey, you." She smiled. "You going to be alright?"

"Oh, yeah." I said sarcastically. "I'm going to be just fine. I have
an idea. Why don't you go get the band director and we'll have a parade
down the hall. I can dress in one of the cheerleader outfits and give the
newest cheer, `I'm here, I'm queer.' Everyone will just love that."

Cynthia looked down at my legs. "Nope. Too much hair. Definitely not
sexy." She looked at me as a small grin appeared on her face. Soon, we
were both laughing.

"God, what am I going to do?" I lamented. "I've still got a year and
a half before I graduate. Every day is going to be like this. I can't
take it."

"Just give it some time to soak in," said Cynthia. "It's just the
latest news. Something else will take its place tomorrow."

"I'm going to ask my dad to enroll me in Wentworth." I said. Cynthia
looked at me and frowned. Wentworth was an all-boys school located about
five miles outside of town. It was very rigid and had extremely strict
guidelines. Even though I knew I would hate going there, at least they
would never tolerate anything like what had happened this morning.

"Taylor, you can't run away from this." She commented. "If you do,
you'll be running your whole life. You're going to have to stand tall
and hold your head up. You can't let them know they're getting to
you."

I started laughing. Cynthia looked at me like I was crazy. "What is so
funny?" She asked.

"Chris said almost the same thing to me before you got here." I
laughed. "Boy, you two really are meant for one another." She gave me a
quizzical look.

"I think you and Chris would make a cute couple." I said sadly.

"I don't think so," she responded.

"Why?" I asked. "He's a really great guy. He's good looking, and you
see how he lives. He's the perfect boyfriend."

"It won't work, Taylor."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not you." I stopped talking and looked into her eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Jeez, Taylor." She sounded exasperated. "You really are blind,
aren't you?"

"What?" I was completely lost in our conversation.

"He's in love with you." She watched as my mouth fell open. "He
couldn't stop looking at you last Friday night. When I was dancing that
slow dance with him, he called me Taylor twice."

I didn't know how to respond to what Cynthia was saying. I was so
wrapped up with my feelings for Jason, I never even gave it a thought
that someone could feel the same way about me.

"When you disappeared on Saturday, he went nuts." She continued. "He
was out all day driving his car up and down the streets looking for
you." I remembered my father telling me that, but I hadn't given it
much thought.

"I saw him later that day and he was crying like a baby because he
thought something had happened to you." She took my hand and held it.
"He cares deeply about you, Taylor. Don't hurt him."

"This can't be." I got up and started pacing around the room. With
everything else that had happened to me recently, someone falling in love
with me was not something I had expected.

I stood in the middle of the room and looked down at Cynthia. "After
everything I've done, how can you say he loves me?"

Cynthia rose and walked over before me. "Because he loves you, he can
accept you for who you are. Just because you made a mistake, doesn't
mean he loves you any less." She pulled me into a hug and kissed my
cheek. "The same goes for me," she whispered in my ear. I could feel
the tears welling in my eyes once again.

We pulled apart when we heard a key opening the door. Mrs. Cox, the
school's principal entered, with Chris following shyly behind her.

"Sit down, please." She motioned for us all to take a seat. Chris
walked over and sat down beside me. She pulled up a student desk and sat
before us.

"I was briefed this morning by the custodian about your locker." She
said as she studied my face. "As we speak, it is being repaired. If I
discover who vandalized it, I will suspend them." There was an awkward
silence as she moved her eyes from one of us to the other.

"I hope you don't mind," she finally spoke, "but I was able to
persuade Chris to fill me in on why someone would do something like
that." I looked over at Chris as he looked away and blushed.

"Although I don't condone your behavior, Taylor," she said sternly,
"there is still a zero tolerance for sexual harassment here at school.
What you did to your friend was wrong, you surely understand that." I
dropped my head and nodded.

"We can expect repercussions," she said. "I've been around teenagers
long enough to realize that this is something that is not going to go
away quickly. But as long as you are here at Easton High School, I will
do everything I can to protect you."

"I'm going to transfer to Wentworth," I blurted out.

"No," gasped Chris. I looked over and saw a sad expression on his face.
Tears began to form in his eyes, as he jumped from his desk and headed
for the door. Before leaving, he gave me one last, sad look.

"Someone doesn't want you to go." Mrs. Cox said after watching
Chris's reaction to my news.

"But I can't stay here." I insisted. "Do you know what its like to
walk down the halls and know everyone hates you?"

Mrs. Cox reared back in her chair and started chuckling. "Yes I do,"
she smiled. "Remember, I'm the principal of the school. Everyone hates
me. It comes with the job."

"Seriously, Taylor." She leaned over and looked into my face. "You're
a good boy. I looked at your records before coming in here. They are
exemplary. You are a top-notch student with a lot of potential. I don't
think people are going to react as badly as you think they will."

"I wish I was as sure about that as you are." I responded.

"Do you have any idea who may have damaged your locker?" She asked.
"Do you think Jason is capable of doing such a thing?"

"More like his girlfriend." Cynthia blurted out.

"You mean Stephanie Shays?" She arched her eyebrows. "You think she
did this?"

"Or her goony brothers." Cynthia responded. Mrs. Cox leaned back in her
seat and sighed.

"This could be trouble." She said worriedly.

Everyone knew the Shays brothers. You know how every school has a bully,
one who intimidates everyone into giving him their school lunch money
since the first grade? Our school had two- Ernest and Sylvester Shays, or
Sly as he like to be called. He once saw the movie `Rocky,' and quickly
adopted the appropriate nickname.

They had bullied me all through elementary school, but had stopped when
Jason started dating Stephanie. They were crazy about Jason, so they left
me alone because they knew I was his best friend. But now, it was hard to
say how they would react to what I had done. If Stephanie was controlling
their behavior, I was in for a lot of trouble.

Sylvester was the older of the two. He was a senior, and Ernest was a
sophomore. They looked the stereotypical school bullies. Their father was
a police lieutenant, so they liked to emulate him by strutting around
school like it was their territory. Both had red hair, like their sister,
only theirs was cut short. They were also overweight, and from the back
their necks seemed to wrinkle up like a pack of hot dogs. They had pudgy
faces that had large red blotches on their cheeks. When they laughed,
they snorted like pigs.

I had always found them grotesque looking. I don't know how two people
can produce a pretty daughter like Stephanie and then have two absolutely
hideous sons. I had always been afraid of them, but since they left me
alone I just ignored their antics around school. Now I was afraid I was
going to be the recipient of their sister's wrath.

They even bullied the teachers. Neither was extremely bright; and I think
most teachers passed them on to the next grade because they were afraid
of having them again the next year.

Their father was also a source who had to be reckoned with. He thought
the sun rose and fell on Sly and Ernest. Any time one of them was
referred to the office, he was there immediately, shouting threats that
he would make life hell for whomever had the nerve to accuse his sons of
any misdoings. After a while, people just tried to stay out of their way
and ignore them as much as possible. I know I certainly had.

"I'll call them into my office and talk to them," said Mrs. Cox.
"I'm sure I'll be hearing from Lieutenant Shays. The police won't
properly investigate the matter if they think the Shays boys are
involved."

"Why do the police have to investigate?" I asked worriedly. If a police
report was filed, then the media could pick up the story. That was all I
needed was for a reporter to stick a microphone in my face and ask me how
it feels to be the school fag whose locker was painted pink.

"There was some minor vandalism done." She stated. "I guess we can let
it go this time, but any other incidences, and I will have to make a
report." I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cox." I replied. "I'm sorry I've made your job so
complicated."

She started laughing. "Complicated! This is nothing compared to some of
the things I have to deal with." She then sat forward and stared into my
eyes. "I really do wish you would reconsider attending Wentworth. It's
a fine school, but you're such a good student here. Looking at your GPA,
you have a chance of being valedictorian next year."

My eyes popped open when she said this. I knew my grades were good, but I
had no idea they were that good. Being valedictorian was something I had
never considered.

"I'll discuss it with my father," I told her. "I'm not sure I'll be
safe here anymore."

"Well, it's true we can't watch you all the time," she said, "but I
can assure you I'll do everything to keep you safe. Under the
zero-tolerance policy, I can expel any student who gives you trouble. You
come to me at the first sign of trouble. My door will always be open to
you."

I nodded my head as she rose and left the room. I looked at the clock and
first period was almost over. Mrs. Mason's class would be returning
soon.

"Are you really going to leave?" Cynthia asked. I looked in her eyes
and saw tears form. I walked over and took her in my arms and held her
tightly.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I'm so confused right now; I
don't know what to do. I really messed my life up." She raised her arms
and put them around me.

"Problems are only temporary." She whispered into my chest. "They do
go away."

I started stroking her hair and then lifted her chin to look into my
face. Her eyes were moist with tears. "What did I ever do to deserve a
friend as special as you?"

"You were just being you." She smiled, as tears appeared in my eyes.
"I love you so much," she said. We continued to hold each other for a
minute before she stepped back and wiped the tears from her face.

"Unfortunately, I love you like a brother." We both started to laugh.
"Now somewhere out there is a heartbroken boy who's feeling about as
miserable as you are at this minute."

"Chris?" I asked.

"He really cares about you," she said. "I know that the last thing
you're looking for right now is a boyfriend, but at least talk to him.
He feels about you, the way you feel about Jason."

"I won't hurt him," I assured her. "I promise. I know what that hurt
feels like."

We hugged one last time. We broke away when Mrs. Mason opened the door
and lead her class back in. She walked over to me and asked me if I were
alright. I assured her that everything was fine now. We talked a few more
minutes, until the bell rang.

When I exited the class, I stopped suddenly. Sly and Ernest were standing
against the water fountain, looking at me with smirks on their faces.
Ernest lifted his shirt and I saw a small can of spray paint hidden under
his belt.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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