Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2003 19:40:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: M D <equinusscorpius@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Silent Violin - Chapter 3

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.  Although
the names of places used DO exist, they are in no way reflected
factually in this story.

Don't read this story if:
* You're not 18 or over,
* If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live,
* Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having
sex.

The author retains copyright to this story.  Placing this story on a
website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be
taken against violators.

Note:  This story will be slow moving, and plot oriented.  It is not a
porno, though sex will happen.  It's a fact of life.  Words in between
<> are sign language, as text formatting does not support italics.

E-mail responses to the story, questions, suggestions, criticism, and
comments to: EquinusScorpius@yahoo.com Thanks for the feedback so far!

THE SILENT VIOLIN

CHAPTER 3

	On February 23rd, Marjorie and Sebastian moved into their new
house.  The two- bedroom ranch-style home was situated in one of the newly
built communities just outside of Tilson.  Granny Eleanor had pulled in
many favors from her days as a mortgage consultant and Gramps dipped
heavily into the savings he had squirreled away.  He had been planning to
buy a yacht and take Granny sailing around the world.
	Marjorie found a new and better job as an administrative assistant
to the principal of a middle school in Kingston.  The pay was much more
than she had made with any of her previous jobs and Bastian was thrilled
that his mother had more free time to relax and do things for herself.  She
quickly arranged a transfer of enrollment for her son into Kingston High
School, as it was only one month into the third semester, and spent the
rest of her time arranging the house to her liking.
	The weekend before his first day at Kingston High, Marjorie took
Bastian up to the Poughkeepsie Galleria for new school clothes and
supplies.  Bastian thoroughly enjoyed their day together and thanked her by
treating her to a movie.  They saw Star Wars: Episode III at Regal Cinema
12 before heading home to get ready for school.
	Bastian was extremely nervous Sunday night.  He had vague memories
of Kingston High School from when he sang there with the kindergarten
chorus in the holiday concert a year before his accident.  It was a
sprawling complex of several multi- level buildings connected by enclosed
walkways.  Some three thousand students, grades 9 through 12, were
currently being educated at KHS.  Because of his accident, Bastian had been
left behind in kindergarten and so was now a freshman at fifteen.  He
wondered if anyone would recognize him, or at least remember him from ten
long years ago.  He thought fleetingly of Aiden McKennough, his best friend
from kindergarten, and wondered if he still lived in Tilson.  He hadn't had
a chance yet to go around the old neighborhood.
	Carefully he laid out the clothes he would wear, deciding how to
make the best impression.  Black boxer-briefs and gray athletic socks were
the easy part.  He chose a pair of black corduroys with a black woven
leather belt.  A pale gray mock-turtleneck and a black button-down shirt
were added to the outfit (he'd leave the button down shirt open).  Matte
black leather Oxfords completed the ensemble.  He looked critically at the
outfit spread out on his bed and sighed.  It would have to do, fashion was
never his strong suit.  A black canvas messenger bag was propped against
the foot of his bed next to the case containing his new violin.  The
messenger bag was fully stocked with notebooks, pens, pencils, a
calculator, his laptop, and anything else he might need.  A small notepad
and pen was in the front pocket for easy access to written communication.
He'd learned the hard way that if he didn't have something to write with
and on, he'd be misunderstood.
	A knock at his door preempted his mother's entry.  Marjorie came
over and slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him into a casual hug.
"Looks good, Bastian," she said, looking over the outfit he'd selected.
"You nervous kiddo?"
	Bastian smiled slightly and wiggled his hand back and
forth. <Sorta.  Do you think they'll remember me>? He signed.
	"I'm sure some of them will.  Only one way to find out.  You can't
back out on me now, bud.  You asked for this, remember?" she scolded.  He
nodded.  "I have something else for you.  I cleared it with the school
district, so you can bring it to school.  Just don't flaunt it around and
make a big deal of it, okay?"  He nodded again, wondering what it was.
	She stepped away from him and back out into the hallway, stooping
down to pick up a bag outside his door.  Eagerly he took the bag from her
and emptied its contents into his hands.
	She smiled at him and explained, "It's a TDD (Telecommunication
Device for the Deaf) cell phone.  You can type what you want to tell
someone else, and it will translate it to spoken words.  I've taken the
liberty with programming it with my work and cell numbers, and Gramps and
Granny's home phone."
	<Cool>! He signed, and hugged her tight.  <This makes calling you a
LOT easier, especially if no one else is around to read for me>.
	"I know, that's why I got it for you."  She smiled and winked at
him.  "Moms know everything."  She glanced at his alarm clock.  "I think
you had best get to bed early tonight; get well rested for school tomorrow.
I'll drive you to school, unless you don't want me to.  It's on the way to
the middle school, so its no problem."
	<Sure, I'd appreciate that.  Not sure I want to do the whole
"school bus" thing anyway>.  Bastian shuddered in mock horror.  He leaned
over and kissed her on the cheek.  <Goodnight, mom.  I love you>.
	"I love you too, Bastian.  G'night."
	When she left, Bastian carefully transferred the clothes from his
bed to his desk chair, shucked off his clothes, and slipped beneath the
comforter.  He double-checked the alarm set for 6:00 am and clicked off the
lamp.  He lay staring into the dark room for quite some time before
flipping back the covers and sliding out of bed.  He threw on a pair of
boxers and moccasins and slipped silently down the hall to the bathroom.
His mother's light was on in her room and he could see her shadow holding a
shadow book.  He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door silently
behind him, flipping the light switch.
	He stood looking into the mirror over the sink, staring at himself.
His eyes were drawn to the ugly scar across the remnants of his Adam's
apple.  He grimaced at it and grabbed his toothbrush.  Squirting a gob of
toothpaste onto the bristles he began to brush his teeth and walked over to
the toilet.  As his right hand brushed his teeth, his left tugged the
waistband of his boxers down to let his penis spring free.  He was
semi-hard from having to urinate and it took him a few moments before the
flow would come.  He finished brushing his teeth as his urine slowed to a
trickle and he leaned forward to spit into the commode.  He shook the drops
from his glans and flushed the toilet, going back to the sink to wash his
hands and rinse his mouth out.  His penis was still uncomfortably
semi-hard, and thinking about it only made it harder.  Hesitating a moment,
he pumped some of his mother's hand lotion into his hand, flipped off the
light, and scurried back to bed, closing his bedroom door behind him.
	He lay back in bed, careful to keep the lotion cupped in one and
off the sheets.  With his free hand, he pushed his boxers down to mid
thigh, leaning back on his shoulders to slide them beneath his buttocks.
He rubbed his hands together to warm the lotion and slid both hands to his
crotch.  The lotion was still cool, but pleasantly so.  Slowly, he stroked
himself to full hardness with one hand.  He rubbed his left palm over his
glans, curling his fingers down to teasingly touch the sensitive joining of
shaft and head.  The pleasure radiated from his cock, sending waves of
ecstasy up his spine.  He bit his bottom lip to keep from moaning and threw
his head back into the pillows.  His toes began to curl from the intense
pleasure and he had to stop for a minute to regain his breath.  He opened
his eyes and saw that it was almost midnight and mouthed "Shit".  With
renewed motivation, his fist flew up and down his slick cock.  A soft
squelching sound could be heard as his own natural lubrication and the
remains of the lotion began to froth.  He began to jerk his hips off the
bed into his hands and he groaned silently as he shot his load all over his
smooth belly.  His cum pooled in his navel and began to slide ticklishly
off his side.  He darted one hand to the strand of cum dripping off his
side and slid it into his mouth, grimacing slightly at the taste of lotion
on his fingers.  He mopped up the rest of the cum in his pubes and on his
belly with his boxers and squeezed the last few drops from his softening
dick.  Smiling happily, he pulled his comforter over himself and quickly
fell asleep.

	The squawking of his alarm clock jolted him from sleep and his
mother called from outside his door to get up.  He was up instantly,
excited and nervous.  He took a hot shower, washing the remains of the
previous night's jack off from his pubes.  The fragrance of peppermint
filled the bathroom as he shampooed and rinsed.  He dried himself off
quickly, running a small amount of gel through his hair to control it,
applying deodorant liberally to underarms, and checking his face for
blemishes.  Teeth brushed and morning toilet taken care of, he hurried back
to his room to dress.
	He finished dressing and glanced at himself in the bedroom mirror,
happy with what he saw.  I look good, if I do say so myself, he thought
cockily to himself.  He turned around and checked his ass out, nicely
highlighted by the corduroys.  The combination of unbuttoned dress shirt
over mock-turtleneck was comfortably casual as well as flattering.  He
grabbed up his messenger back and violin case and hurried to the kitchen,
where he could smell his mother making eggs.
	"Good morning, honey.  Have a seat." She nodded towards the
breakfast bar where a plate of vegetarian sausage and a glass of orange
juice awaited him.  "The eggs will be done in a few moments.  Dig in."  She
turned back to stirring the scrambled eggs in the frying pan with a
spatula.
	Bastian placed his bag and case on a chair and hopped up onto a
stool, spearing several sausages onto his plate.  He munched away happily,
adding eggs when they were done, and downed a vitamin with the glass of
O.J.  He excused himself and went to gargle in the bathroom while his
mother finished her own breakfast.  He came back to the kitchen and watched
his mother finish her breakfast.  He was struck by how good she looked, now
that she was happy again.
	Her black hair had regained its luster and was pulled back into a
youthful ponytail.  The grief that had lined her face had faded and the
smile was back in her blue eyes.  Bastian thought the navy blue dress suit
really accentuated her slender figure.  I'll have to see if I can't find
her someone, he thought to himself.  Marjorie turned around jingled her
keys.  "You ready to go, Bastian?"  Bastian nodded, gathered his bag and
violin, and followed her out the door.

	Kingston High School was situated on top of a hill overlooking busy
High Street.  It was only 7:25 when the Blackmoores pulled up to the
parking lot at the base of the hill; school started at 7:50 am.  Eben
hopped out of Marjorie's Toyota Camry, kissed her goodbye, and started up
the hill towards the main building with his messenger bag slung across his
chest and the violin case a reassuring weight in his left hand.
	The main office was to his left as he entered the double doors of
the main school building.  The hallways were eerily quiet so early in the
morning and his footsteps echoed back to him from the tiles.  Lockers lined
the halls, the wall of gray metal broken only by the occasional classroom
or bathroom or staircase.  He wandered up and down the halls, looking into
the classrooms with their uncomfortable desk-chairs and chalk-dusted
blackboards.
	Bastian just about jumped out of his skin when a reedy voice from
behind him queried, "Excuse me, young man, can I help you?  I don't
recognize you.  Are you knew?"  The voice originated from a wrinkled little
old lady.  Her brown eyes glared at him suspiciously through gold-rimmed
half-glasses.
	Bastian reached for the notepad in his bag and she stepped back in
suspicion, eyes widening fearfully as she expected the worst from him.  He
held his empty hands out to her to show her he was harmless, holding up one
finger to ask for more time.  He retrieved the notepad and wrote hastily:

		My name is Sebastian Blackmoore.  I can't talk because
		I'm mute.  I just transferred from Chester A. Arthur High
School in
		Rouses Point. Today is my first day here.  I need to get my
		schedule and finish any my mother couldn't do.  Sorry for
scaring
		you.

	He handed her the note and she read it carefully, moving her lips
as she scanned the note.  She glanced up at him several times while reading
the note, and reread it again.  Bastian waited patiently.  Finally she
handed him the paper and said, very loudly and with exaggerated
enunciation, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were a new student.  My name is
Mrs. Sykes.  I'm one of the receptionists here at KHS.  Please come into
the office and I will get you your schedule.  You will have to wait in the
office until school starts.  I can't let you wander the halls."  She smiled
vapidly at him and turned to walk into the main office.  Bastian rolled his
eyes, shook his head bemusedly, and followed Mrs. Sykes into the office.
	Mrs. Sykes bustled around the office area after telling him to take
a seat.  She trundled about turning on computers, turning on lights, and
unlocking doors.  Finally she came back to the front desk and seemed
surprised to see him sitting in one of the chairs.  "Oh, dear me, I'm
sorry.  I got a little ahead of myself." She giggled to herself and sat
down at one of the computer terminals.  She typed a few things on the
keyboard, studied the monitor intently, typed a few more things and sat
back.  "There we go."  She wheeled her chair back and retrieved a sheet of
paper from the printer.  She handed him that and a folder.  "There's your
schedule, maps of the buildings, school policies and rules, important phone
numbers, a list of after school activities, and a list of the faculty.  You
might want to look over your schedule, make sure everything is okay, and
map out where they all are.  Your guidance counselor will be Mr. Burliss,
he'll want to meet with you before you attend any of your classes.  He'll
assign someone else to show you around the campus and get you situated."
She smiled at him again and turned away to get ready for the day.
	Bastian took his schedule and looked it over.  KHS had one
10-minute period for homeroom, seven 50-minute periods for classes, and one
100-minute period for after school activities.  There was a seven-minute
break between each period to get books from lockers and get to the next
class.  He had homeroom/first period in room 204 with Mr.  Davies.  Second
period was Honors Biology in room 122 with Ms. Brewster.  Third period was
Honors English in room L-303 with Miss Pruitt.  Fourth period was World
History with Mr. Simmons in room P-032.  Fifth period was lunch.  Sixth
period was Algebra II in room 204 with Mr. Davies.  Seventh period was
Health in room L-120 with Mr. Jacobs.  Eighth period was Physical Education
alternating every other day with Orchestra.  Orchestra also extended into
Ninth period on the days he had it.  The schedule also confirmed that
Mr. Burliss was his guidance counselor.
	He compared his schedule with the map in the folder and sighed
silently.  There would be a lot of running between classes.  The L's and
P's before the numbers designated the different buildings on campus, and
there was quite a bit of distance between his classes.  Well at least he'd
be in shape.  He was actually glad that he had gym as his last class, it
was always nice not to have to go back to regular classes smelling like a
locker room.  He took a highlighter out of his bag and highlighted his
classrooms.  As he was finishing, he could hear the sounds of increased
traffic in the halls.  Teens talking loudly and joking about their weekend,
lamenting the return to school, exclaiming that they'd forgotten to do some
assignment or another.  A few adults came in and out of the main office,
looking at him curiously as they went about their business.  Bastian
assumed they were teachers.
	A short, stocky brown-haired main with a look on his face like he'd
just eaten a pound of lemons, rind and all walked into the main office and
behind the counters.  Mrs.  Sykes looked up as he entered.  "Mr. Burliss?
Mr. Burliss!  We have a new student here today.  He's one of yours.
Sebastian Blackmoore."  In a stage whisper behind one cupped hand, she
added: "He can't talk, he's mute."  Bastian ignored her comment and stood
up, extending his hand in greeting to Mr. Burliss.
	Mr. Alfred E. Burliss was a generally unpleasant man.  He disliked
his job, disliked children, and was altogether unsuited to being a guidance
counselor.  He wore a brown wool sports coat, a tan dress shirt, brown tie,
brown twill pants, and brown leather loafers.  He studied Bastian's
outstretched hand as if it were a dead bug, and finally took it in his own.
His hands were dry, cool, and unpleasantly smooth.  Bastian resisted the
urge to wipe his hand on his pants when he let go.
	When he spoke, Mr. Burliss's voice was a nasal drone that instantly
set Bastian's teeth on edge.  "Ah, Mr. Blackmoore.  How nice to meet you."
He smiled thinly at him; the smile wasn't even close to reaching his eyes.
"Come back to my office."
	Mr. Burliss set off down a passageway of cubicles and turned into
one sparsely decorated office.  A simple wooden desk split the room in two,
with a leather desk chair behind and two hard wooden seats in front.
Mr. Burliss gestured for him to take a seat, and settled into the leather
chair.  He turned on the monitor of his computer, typed on the keyboard and
studied the monitor.
	"Let me take this chance to welcome you to Kingston High School,
Mr.  Blackmoore.  I trust you will be a contribution to our little
community.  Mrs. Sykes has provided you with the school codes of conduct,
your schedule and a map.  I'll provide you with a student representative to
help you get settled in.  I don't expect to see much of you, as I don't
expect you will cause any problems."  He typed a few more things on his
computer and withdrew a combination lock from a filing cabinet, typing the
numbers on it into the computer.  "Here's the combination lock to your
locker.  Your locker number is 1615.  Do you have any questions?"
Mr. Burliss spoke impassively in his nasal drone.
	Bastian shook his head 'no'.  Already, he didn't care too much for
Mr. Burliss.  Mr. Burliss barely waited for his response before pressing
the button on the intercom built into his phone.  There was a beep and a
click and the voice of Mrs. Sykes came through the connection.  "Yes,
Mr. Burliss?"
	"Send in Miss Jones." He ordered and clicked off the intercom.
Bastian sat awkwardly waiting until a pretty young African American girl
entered the room.  Her hair was styled into several dozen thick braids that
fell to her shoulders.  Her coffee and cream complexion and the dark beauty
mark at the corner of her left eye were very striking.  She smiled briefly
at him and looked expectantly at Mr. Burliss.
	"Miss Jones, this is Sebastian Blackmoore, a new student to KHS.
Please see him settled in to his schedule."  He said dismissively.  As an
afterthought he added, "He's unable to talk."
	The girl glanced at him briefly and nodded to Mr. Burliss.  In a
pleasant throaty voice she said, "Yes, Mr. Burliss.  Follow me, Sebastian."
	Bastian recovered quickly from his shock at Mr. Burliss's casual
remarks and followed Miss Jones out into the main office.  He heard a bell
ring somewhere in the school.  She pulled smiled at him and pulled him into
a hallway rapidly emptying of students as they hurried into their
homerooms.
	"Don't mind Mr. Burliss, he hates his job," she said.  She held out
one manicured hand to him in greeting and added, "My name's Harmony Jones.
I'm a sophomore here, and I'm the sophomore class representative on student
council."
	Bastian took out his pad and began to write before she interrupted
with, "I know sign language, if that's easier for you.  My older sister
goes to Gallaudet University."
	Bastian smiled, thinking that maybe Mr. Burliss was more competent
than he appeared.  He set down his violin case and messenger bag.  His
hands rapidly moved through the familiar signs.
	<Thanks, this saves a lot of time and paper.  Please, call me
Bastian.  I'm a little nervous, so I hope you can read my shaking hands>.
He grinned.  <I'm actually originally from Tilson, but moved up to Rouses
Point on Lake Champlain ten years ago.  As you can see, I play violin and
I'll be in the orchestra here.  Guess that's it>.
	Harmony smiled again, full crimson lips parting to reveal straight
white teeth.  "That's cool.  I play oboe myself in both the band and the
orchestra, so I guess I'll see you in orchestra.  Now let's have a look at
your schedule, and I'll take you on a tour of the school so you can get
oriented."  He handed her his schedule and she whistled between her teeth.
"Well you don't have too many bad teachers.  Mr. Simmons is really boring,
and Ms. Brewster is tough but fair.  You shouldn't have too many problems.
Of course, they have you running all over the school for your classes, just
like everyone else.  We'll stop by your locker and you can put that lock on
it."  She smiled again and he smiled back as they headed off on a tour of
the school.
	The bell letting out second period rang and the halls were swarmed
with chattering teens by the time Harmony finished showing him around.  She
had shown him the orchestra room, and told him to store his violin in one
of the cubbies.  His locker, he found was a few doors down from his
homeroom, so he would be able to pass it a few times a day.  Harmony tried
talking to him over the din of the students in the halls, but he couldn't
hear her so she settled for signing to him, <I'll let you start your
classes now.  Any questions, just go to the main office and ask Mrs. Sykes
to find me.  I'll see you in Orchestra eighth period.  Take care>.  She
waved goodbye and ushered him into room L-303.
	Third period went by in a blur.  Miss Pruitt was a petite young
woman with mousy brown hair and pale blue eyes and insisted her class call
her Miss Kitty.  She welcomed him to her class, read his brief introduction
to them and handed him a textbook before ushering him to a seat.  He spent
the morning typing notes on his laptop, the keyboard thankfully silent so
as not to disturb his fellow students.  He heard a few whispers from the
new students, but no one approached him.  Miss Kitty gave her reading
assignment to the class seconds before the bell rang.  Bastian struggled to
gather his things as the students rushed out of the room.  He waved goodbye
to Miss Kitty and walked quickly towards his next class.
	He arrived with little time to spare, and gave Mr. Simmons his
introduction note.  Mr. Simmons was a tall man in his early sixties with
shaggy white hair and a large, red- veined nose.  He read the note silently
to himself and then said aloud to his students.  "This is Bastian
Blackmoore.  He's transferred in from a school up in Rouses Point.  He
can't talk because he's mute."  Bastian looked over the classroom as
Mr. Simmons talked to the class and recognized a few of the kids from
Honors English.  He smiled and nodded tentatively at them, but received no
reaction.  Here we go again, he thought to himself.
	"Bastian, you can take the empty seat next to Mr. McKennough
there."  Bastian started at the name and looked to where Mr. Simmons was
pointing.

To Be Continued.