Date: Mon, 15 Dec 2008 22:01:27 -0500
From: Sean E <ekidky@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Bully and the Bullied - Part II
DISCLAIMER: I won't say anything more than just the usual - if you
shouldn't be reading this, then don't. This is a short story that involves
boys coming-of-age, containing things that boys get into, including sexual
situations, feelings, etc. It is my first attempt at fiction, having
written only one other series based on my personal life's experiences
growing up, titled "Lifes Road of Discoveries" (also found here on Nifty in
the Young-Friends section, posted early in 2008). This series has no basis
in truth, whereas all characters and situations are fictional. Any
resemblance in real life is purely coincidental. The era is based in the
mid-1970's.
This story will spread across 9 or 10 parts of varying lengths, and I hope
that those of you who take to it and read it through will enjoy it. As
always, any feedback is welcome (to EKidKy@hotmail.com).
I hope you like it. :o)
The Bully and the Bullied Part II - Finding a Friend
--------------------------
In the aftermath of the fight, neither boy involved returned to school
immediately, fuelling wild speculations that sharply contrast differing
views. That was to be expected, given that everyone had their own take
about the "incident". The younger kids, having been mesmerized by what
they saw, tended to exaggerate the how everything happened to others in
their classes. The older students told and re-told the details, and as it
went beyond the initial circle, they too began exaggerating bits and pieces
here and there. The levels of authenticity varied, but at least the basic
fact held its ground: Riddle had beaten the crap out of someone 2-3 years
younger.
What bothered Michael about it all was that, in almost every variation,
most people blindly made fun of Thomas in one way or another. There were
no expressions of sympathy to be found in the hallways, and in the classes
Michael knew he shared with Thomas, it began to create a wide distraction,
a distortion from the truth. It was almost always the proverbial "Jermz
kicked the shit out of the little whelp", or "I heard he was bawling when
he got off the bus". Although they were not aimed at the younger boy
directly, those remarks degraded the person Thomas actually appeared to be,
and all Michael could do was grunt about it. He had attempted to deny or
at least give a little more accurate details here and there, but most of
the kids ignored him, instead turning to their own inner circle of friends.
In the end, Michael just sighed and began to ignore them, withdrawing into
himself as he usually did.
When the weekend arrived, Michael's mother had to make a rare
appearance at work on Saturday morning, something out of character as she
had most weekends free. On this day however, she was needed because the
usual nurse was out with the flu, and being it was only a half-day, she
asked her son if he would like to tag along, hinting that afterward they
might could go see a movie or something together. He jumped at the chance,
not usually being able to get a treat as such, and soon they were both in
the office. He parked himself in the break room for the nurses, finding a
TV there hooked up to cable and providing far more channels than he had
access to at home.
At one point through the morning though, there was some commotion
out in the hallway, and as he stepped to the door, he could see a family
that had gathered at the window in the waiting room. His mother had joined
the receptionist and was attempting to discern what was happening. "What's
happened?"
A rather thin-looking Hispanic woman appeared in the window well,
gesturing frantically at the child in her arms. "Both Cici and Jess, my
children, fell through old steps this morning, the wood give way! They both
hurt!" She turned so that the child in her arms, a little girl who
appeared to be around 4 to 5 years old, was wrapped in a towel that, when
separated in front, showed a streak of blood that had came from somewhere
underneath. Michael saw his mother stick her head out the window into the
reception room, looking down at some other person unseen beneath, then made
a snap judgment, withdrawing her head immediately and coming around into
the hallway. As she opened the door to the waiting area, she saw her son
peeking from the lounge, then gestured for him to approach and help.
Once opened, the woman entered followed by a boy who looked to be
slightly older than the girl. As Michael's mother took the girl from the
mothers' arms, she looked at her son, gesturing the boy beneath them.
"Michael, take this boy into that room over there and stay with him, okay?"
She nodded toward the intentional room while she walked into a different
room with the girl. Michael saw the mother hesitate, looking between them,
so he walked over and took the boy by the hand, looking up.
"I'll take care of him mam, we'll just be in here."
She looked down, saw kindness in his eyes, and then smiled. She
spoke a few words to her son in a language Michael did not understand, then
turned before following her daughter.
Michael gently guided the boy into what was another examining room,
at first curious as to why his mother wanted to separate them in the first
place, until he thought back at the streak of blood. Comprehension dawned
on him as he imagined they would probably have to strip the little girl
down to attend to her. He looked down at his young charge and was
surprised to see the other looking up at him, a weak smile across his face.
He smiled back. "What's your name?"
Shyly, the boy responded. "Jess."
"Hi Jess, I'm Michael." Looking over at a nearby chair, he guided
the youngster over and had him sit down. "Are you alright? Does anything
hurt?"
The boy stared at Michael for almost a half-minute before slowly
nodding his head, and then lifted his shirt to show a long scar that had
developed down the front of his belly. Michael whistled. Looking up at
the bed, he smiled again. "Umm, maybe you ought to sit up here." When the
younger boy didn't move, Michael added, "I promise, I'm not going to hurt
you, just maybe clean that scar up some. See? It's bleeding in a couple
places, and you got scraped up real good."
The boy nodded, then stood up and climbed up onto the edge of the
examining bed. Michael could now see much better, and then looked around.
Having a nurse for a mother had some advantages, it seemed, as he knew
pretty much what would have to be done. They both heard footsteps in the
hallway and as they watched, a man in a white coat appeared and hurried
into the other examining room where Jess's sister was being attended,
closing the door behind him. Michael figured it would be a few minutes
before anyone would come see about them, he began looking for some rubbing
alcohol and cotton swabs in the drawers.
Finding them, he returned to Jess and studied him for a second.
"Jess, I'm not a doctor, obviously, but if you want, I can kind of clean
some of that up. Does anything hurt inside? Did you just, like, get
scraped up in the fall or something?"
"Yeah," was the shy reply.
Michael, still uncertain, glanced at the other. "We don't have to
do this, I mean we can wait for my Mom or someone if you want..."
Slowly Jess shook his head, then lay back on his hands, propping
himself up at an angle, exposing his belly to the older boy. Michael
gently reached up and pulled up the shirt and, after first inspection, saw
the scar extended up to his chest. "Is it okay if we take your shirt off?"
he whispered. When the other boy nodded, he sit back up and with Michael
help, removed the shirt he was wearing, before returning to the propped up
position. Michael gulped inwardly before taking the cotton balls and,
after dowsing them with rubbing alcohol, proceeded to clean the scratch
beginning at the top and working down.
All went well, better than he expected really. As the skin was
cleaned, it left behind the appearance of nothing broken, short of a few
places where blood had started to seep to the surface, but had instead by
now dried and clotted back. The boy was thin, but had a smooth body
insofar as Michael could tell. They talked as Michael worked his way down,
and as they got more accustomed to each other Michael learned a little
about what had happened. It appeared that Jess's and his sister had been
carrying something down the steps to a cellar when one of the boards had
given way under their weight, sending them both careening below. Jess had
ended up with only a big scar down his front, while his sister had
evidently landed on some old rusty nails, one of them penetrating her side.
When Michael got to Jess's waistline, he gently pulled back the
boys sweats to see the scar extended down further. He caught the eyes of
the other, questioning whether he should go any further, when Jess
half-grinned. The younger boy took his thumb inside of the waistband of
both his outer layer and a pair of briefs underneath and pulled them down
in front, right to the point where the base of his penis lay, then stopped.
Michael grinned back, nervous but regaining some assurance as he cleaned
and finished the area underneath. When he finished, he turned around and
helped pull Jess back up to a sitting position.
Within moments they heard the door across the hall open, and then
Michael's mother was by their side. "We're getting Enid Memorial to send
an ambulance down here." Turning to Jess, she smiled. "You're sister is
alright, don't worry, but she took a pretty nasty nail right below her hip,
it needs to be x-rayed." Glancing about, she saw the alcohol and cotton
balls lying nearby. She raised an eyebrow as she scrutinized her son.
Michael laughed. "He wasn't too bad Mom, I just helped clean up a
little that's all."
She smiled as she observed up close the results of the handiwork.
She asked young Jess a question or two, and then nodded. "I'm impressed
Michael, you did a really good job."
"Who did?" came a voice behind Michael, as he turned to see
Dr. Waller, his Mom's boss, walk in with the boys' mother. After they
exchanged a few details, the man laughed, glancing down at the handiwork.
"I see I'm going to have to put you on the payroll one of these days," he
teased while running his hand through Michaels' hair.
That was one thing Michael didn't like, as it gave him a feeling he
was being treated as a little kid, or one of sport nonetheless.
"DDDoooocccc!"
All of the adults laughed. The woman exchanged a few words with
her son, then turned and thanked Michael for his help. Within minutes, the
ambulance arrived, and all of them walked out to support the three as they
were carried or guided inside. As it pulled away, Michael stood watching,
while his mother came up to his side, dropping an arm around his shoulders
and squeezing gently. She was proud, and for some reason or another, so
was he. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, as the two of them got a
quick lunch and went to the movies, before returning home and back to their
usual lives.
Life itself took on a different tone, however, along the middle of the
following week. The fight, having occurred the previous Thursday, had lost
little of its attention by the third day, and the teachers were now
beginning to try and settle things back into a normal routine. It would
probably have worked, if not for the fact on that Wednesday morning,
Michael was surprised when the bus stopped in front of Thomas's house and
the young man stepped on board. His face did not display the worst for
wear as it had previously, and as he boarded he returned the grin that was
beaming at him from the driver. After looking around briefly, he worked
his way back into the middle of the bus where Michael was sitting and
paused, looking down at the other. "Can I?" he asked, using his eyes to
indicate he wanted to sit and share the seat with him.
It was obvious that, even with the bus practically empty of seats and
any one of them would have given more freedom than was per usual, instead
Thomas was asking if he could sit with his peer. Astonished as he was,
Michael moved his book bag to underneath his feet and allowed the other to
sit down as the bus began rolling once again.
Darkness was slowly giving way to light outside, and enough was now
beaming through the windows that Michael could get a decent look at the kid
beside him. The face that only days before had been swollen and bloodied,
was now only selectively bruised in places. When the other kid looked his
way, Michael quickly averted his eyes, embarrassed at having been caught
staring at the one side exposed to him. He heard a grimace from his
companion, "Go ahead, it's okay, look all you want. You're not the first
and I'm sure you're not going to be the last today."
Michael broght his eyes back up at the passive expression staring back.
"You doing okay?" he asked, hesitant, but no longer hiding his curiosity as
he observed the others features.
The boy before him nodded and, depositing his bag in the floor beneath
them, drew his legs up and propped them on the seat in front, mimicking
Michael as he got comfortable. "Yeah, I'm okay."
As Michael looked him over, he noticed that one eye still held a sunken
bruise. A couple of small scabs were still visible underneath one nostril,
as well as at the edge of the boy's mouth, betraying the cuts that had
previously existed. "Man, you got it good," he muttered softly.
Thomas shrugged. "I guess so, but it's not so bad. Heck, it didn't
even hurt that much after Thursday night."
Michael nodded. "How long did they suspend you guys?" he asked,
timidly.
"I got nothing, just a slap on the wrist more or less. I don't know
about pussy boobs," was the reply, obviously referring to Riddle.
Surprised, Michael stammered, "Y-you mean they didn't can you guys?
Heck, where have you been?"
Thomas grunted. "Well, I was out Friday cuz Mom made me stay home, but
this week we've been in Franklin at a funeral." He paused then added
thoughtfully, "My Mom's aunt passed away, and she made me go with her."
Incredulous, Michael whistled. "Wow! That is what I call l-u-c-k!"
Thomas nodded. "Yeah, I know." He paused for a sec. "Thanks for
letting me sit down the other day."
Michael was surprised. "Huh?"
"Meh, you and me, we don't ever talk much or anything, but the other
day... well..."
"No big deal," Michael replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"I know, but... thanks, anyway." The other kid had a smile on his
face, so Michael nodded then turned his attention out the window to the
landscape rolling by. They both lapsed into silence as other kids started
getting on the bus, each surprised at finding Thomas on board as they
walked down the aisle. There were plenty of glances and outright stares
from almost everyone as they boarded for the rest of the morning, and even
an eerie silence had ensued, unusual even for an early morning ride. One
kid, probably 6 or 7 years old, boarded at one point and upon seeing
Thomas, cried out "Wow! That's a beaut!" Everyone on board burst out
laughing, and the mood changed from then on until they arrived at school,
everyone now chatting and preparing for the oncoming school day.
As they neared the school, Michael turned to the kid next to him.
"Umm, don't be surprised what you hear today, but there is a lot of crap
going around on you guys." When Thomas looked back, raising an eyebrow,
Michael added. "Well, like everything, I mean, getting suspended to you
laying in the hospital to - "
"No shit? For real?" Surprise was in the lowered voice, but the grin
on Thomas's face betrayed the amusement he was feeling.
Michael grinned. "Yeah, no shit." He got the impression Thomas wasn't
used to using swear words so loosely, probably no more than he did himself,
but for once it felt okay between them. With that they both got up as the
bus rolled to a stop, getting their bags and heading for the exit along
with everyone else.
As the day progressed, that conversation came back to Michael
repeatedly, hanging on the words 'they never talked much' each time. They
were both in the same grade, both shared a couple of classes throughout the
day as well as lunch; they both rode the same bus each day, and had lived
reasonably close together for years. Somehow thought they had avoided
having any kind of a mutual friendship that might normally have developed -
especially given the rural environment where they lived. It wasn't that
Michael had gone out of his way or anything to avoid the kid. He was just
a loner, pretty much one who had always been a reserved kid, not making
friends easily as some did because he just didn't have the same interest in
things like they did. As he thought about it tha day, Michael believed the
other boy must have been the same way. He remembered when Thomas first
started riding the bus years before, and how he seemed to always sit at
first in the front rows. Being the loner he was, Michael had just guessed
the kid wasn't interested, so he didn't really pursue any kind of
friendship. Now he was beginning to wish that hadn't been the case. In
what few exchanges they had had, Michael could see a side of Thomas he
hadn't before, a side that made them a lot alike, and now he berated
himself of having missed the years thus far, knowing practically nothing
about the other.
All of that was changing now, however. At first Michael's feelings
were mixed because he wasn't sure what to make of it, but he found he was
beginning to have a level of anticipation at their new friendship. Although
it was Thomas who was definitely beginning to open up to him, beginning to
make the moves that brought them together, it still made him feel good
inside. When the morning passed and eventually Michael headed to the
lunchroom, he was disappointed when he didn't see the other at first. He
found a small round table off to one side and sat down beginning to eat.
He had become so preoccupied at getting settled he was surprised when
someone tapped his shoulder from behind. Turning to see who it was, he
grinned at seeing Thomas, tray in hand and he too started to sit down.
"Okay if I join you?"
Michael nodded, pleased he had come over. "Sure," came the ready
reply, and as both started in on bowls of chili and grilled cheeses, they
listened to the conversation building across the room. Occasionally
Michael heard parts of sentences and remarks that referred to his newfound
friend, "Yeah, that's him over there!" and so forth, but no one went out of
their way to come over and join them. In fact, both were left pretty much
alone throughout the whole period.
For the first time, Michael took a long look at the kid seated with
him. Both being tall for their age, the first thing he noticed was the
fact that Thomas wore jeans that had seen better days. At first glance,
one could have passed them off as just simply faded, but up close there
were places that had become thread-bare, one with even an obvious patch
sewed or ironed in behind it. The cuffs were unraveled, just coming short
of where you would expect, exposing his socked feet underneath. Like his
jeans, the basketball shoes that adorned his feet had also seen better
days, but at least appeared solid and sturdy. As he glanced upward,
Michael saw the other's shirt was a little newer, more modern take in
fashion, a long-sleeve button-up that opened half-way down the chest to
expose a light-grey t-shirt underneath. Like Michael, he wore no watch, no
necklace or other jewelry of any kind. His brown eyes were bright though,
something which he immediately noticed when he realized - rather
embarrassingly - the other was staring back at him. "What?"
"N-nothing, just thinking..." When the other kid grinned, a look of
amusement covering his face, Michael added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
stare at you..." He turned back and continued eating.
Thomas giggled. "You checking me out or something?" When he saw the
other blush a bright red, he shrugged, then just whispered "Whatever..."
He looked around the cafeteria and grunted. "Everyone else is doing it,
checking me out I mean, I don't see why you can't either."
Michael turned a deeper shade of red. "Still, sorry man, I really
didn't mean to."
Thomas smiled. "It's cool, honest." They started chatting afterwards.
Though small talk at first, it developed into different areas, each
learning more and more about the other, building until they suddenly found
they both had an identical fascination for NFL football. When the lunch
period ended, both were hyped up, finding that many of the teams they liked
were shared with the other.
That afternoon, the ride home carried in similar fashion to the
morning, both boys sitting together yet again, but this time having little
inhibition towards each other, both heavily engrossed in the topic of
football, both startled at the other's in-depth knowledge of the subject.
By the time they got home, both boys were beaming at the budding friendship
that was developing between them.
In the days that passed since the "incident", Jeremy Riddle had finally
returned to school following a 2 week hiatus. It had surprised Michael the
first morning he had returned to the bus. Both he and his newfound friend
Thomas had been sitting in what was now their customary seat in the
mornings, a habit born not of necessity, but one of selection: the drivers'
side seat, roughly a third of the way back, was less worn, and the padding
was more durable than in other seats. On that particular morning, however,
the bus come to a sudden halt, probably because the driver had become
accustomed to passing the driveway that had become empty. The boys could
hear him swear softly under his breath as he jammed on the brakes, and even
as Jeremy got onboard, he was smiling to the other "Almost forgot there,
young man, sorry about that..."
The boy nodded to the driver, a brief acknowledgement no less, and then
pivoted himself into the second seat opposite. He turned and looked at no
one, the driver nor the outside - which would have been almost featureless
anyway due to the morning dusk just beginning to fade to light. Michael
watched with curiosity, noticing how the older kid stared ahead only
sitting rigidly in the seat. As was his usual, he had no books, nothing of
note - just himself, wearing typical school clothes, even short sleeves -
although the mornings had become quite cool and were worthy of at least a
light jacket. His clothes, although not dirty or ragged by any means,
still had threads that showed of age. Perhaps what caused Michael to raise
an eyebrow though was the fact that, although Jeremy had not been told to
sit in the front - a seat he would normally have despised, to say the least
- it had become his unusual choice for the morning. The driver even raised
his eyebrows, and it was at that point Michael confirmed his suspicion that
it was a decision of preference, and not on of duty or prior agreement.
For the time being, he let it go, amused, but noting the curious change if
nothing else.
Weeks passed rapidly as fall settled in, the leaves changed and cooler
weather appeared, causing a drastic change in most of the students' normal
habits. Most were forced to stay indoors as the weather had changed to one
of almost constant showers, some light, others heavy. The change in the
weather pattern was a common topic of conversation among the adults - much
to their general amusement after the long drought they had endured during
the previous months.
Through the end of October and most of November, Michael and Thomas
became the best of friends with each other, and the incident had become
mostly a thing of the past. People also began noticing Jeremy's change in
character not just on the bus, but in other ways as well. The once hyper,
in-your-face persona was gone, replaced with expressionless eyes and a face
masked literally featureless. He spoke to no one without being spoken to
first. His inner circle of friends, at first fearing a return of his old
character, took long strides initially to retain his good favor, but soon
found him despondent and changed. During school hours he occasionally
gathered around them, but those times were becoming few and far between.
Most evident was the way his whole demeanor changed regarding the way he
dealt with people. More than once he was short, contemptuous - choosing to
withdraw and taking a more solitary path.
One afternoon, while waiting to board the bus Jeremy and Thomas came
face to face by accident. As Riddle stumbled and was lost his balance,
falling backwards he came into contact with the younger boy, who was at
that instant stuffing something into his book bag and closing it up. As
Riddle fell onto him, he grunted at feeling the others weight bear down on
him, but realized quickly as the other rolled off and regained his balance
it, how accidental it had been. When he turned and looked up at the other
though, both boys were brought face to face for the first time since the
fight. Each squared off as recognition dawned on the other what had
happened. Thomas said nothing, holding his ground - not aggressively, but
certainly without no sign of backing down. He was half expecting the older
boy to start in on something, some hassle or wisecrack of sorts, but was
surprised when Riddle only looked hard at the younger kid for a few
seconds, then grunted and moved out of line to the back.
When Thomas recomposed himself, he looked sideways to where Michael had
just walked up. "D-did you see THAT?"
The other breathed a low whistle. "Wow! I didn't know what was going
to happen!"
Thomas turned and grinned at him, then shrugged his shoulders as they
watched Riddle get back in line further back. "I didn't either." Nothing
more was said, but others who had watched the exchange knew something was
changing; and because it was just so uncharacteristic, some were beginning
to worry a storm might be brewing somewhere in the future.
The rest of the week found others in the school opening up to Thomas a
little more than usual. Most were supportive, politely inquiring how he
was doing and the like. Most, that is, except for Riddle's inner circle of
friends, who constantly taunted him in the halls between classes: "Hey jerk
wad, get enough of your balls handed to you?", "Come taste my knuckles
man!" and so on. Insofar as Michael could tell, Thomas ignored them for
the most part, acknowledging the fact he was still the center of attention,
even though Riddle had yet to return to school.
Things began to change between the two yet again, as their friendship
seemed to deepen. It was one Friday afternoon, during the ride home that
Thomas looked up suddenly, as they were nearing his house, catching his
newfound friends' eye. "Umm, Michael? How about coming over Sunday and
watch some football with me? I mean..." His voice trailed away, and there
was a different tone replaced in his voice, one timid and uncertain.
Michael hesitated only briefly. "Sure, that is, if Mom will let me."
The look of relief on the others faces spoke volumes, and as he stood
up to leave, he replied. "Great! If you can just come on over, we'll be
there, and if something comes up, I'll call you."
The event set, Michael grinned as he watched the other get off the bus,
then started getting his things together to move up to the front, knowing
his own exit was not far away. As he sat down, he looked up into the long
rectangular mirror and saw the bus driver grinning from ear to ear,
glancing and looking at him from time to time. "What?" Michael prompted,
curious but ready to giggle himself at seeing the odd amused look that
confronted him.
"Nothing, I'm jes glad to see you twos becomin friends, dats all."
He said it in a kind way, and Michael just nodded, not sure what to say, he
continued. "I think that is all he needed, he jest always sit by hisself
so much, he never made friends much with anyone. You too for dat matter -
you need friends in dis world, people to hang out with. Too much bad stuff
goes on to be alone, yes sir, too much bad stuff."
Michael thought this odd coming from the man, not so much because
of what he said, but because it was coming from someone he never thought
about as being mellow. The attitude and personality of the driver just
didn't fit this image he had come to know over the years, and in a sense he
was opening his eyes to a new, different side hereto yet seen. He just
nodded as the bus rolled to a stop and he got off. After grabbing the
mail, he started the walk toward the house.
He had shaken off the curiosities of the day however, by the time
he reached the house. In an uncharacteristically good mood, he entered and
found his mother in the kitchen, preparing an early supper. He kissed her
on the cheek - surprising her at the sudden display of affection - then
immediately launched into the events of the afternoon, ending with his
invitation he had received. Upon hearing it, she looked thoughtful for a
moment.
"Do you trust him? Does he seem like a good kid?"
Michael was careful not to be annoyed by the "kid" reference, as he
figured he would always be seen that way to his Mom, even for years to
come. "Yeah Mom, I think he's okay. I mean, we're just kind of hitting it
off some, but - "
She nodded. "I understand, honey. Yes, I guess it would be
alright. If it is raining I'll drop you off on my way to work, but you
might have to get a way back. Of course, if it's not, you can ride your
bike over, although it will be cold."
Michael thought about that, realizing what she was saying. In the
last few days the weather had changed. Although the drought conditions
were somewhat alleviated now, colder air had started making its way onto
the plains, and he inwardly shivered as he remembered being chilled when he
got on the bus that morning, having failed to procure a jacket before
leaving the house. He shrugged. "Whatever it takes Mom, it'll be okay."
He watched her smile at his reply, but he left for his room before the
discussion proceeded any further.
The first part of the weekend found Michael busy, leaving little time
for him to be distracted with the upcoming visit. With his Mom and aunt's
family, who visited for most of the day Saturday, they weatherized the
windows and doors for the oncoming winter, a task not easily accomplished
given the state of the windows being as old as they were. At times he had
to entertain his cousins, two toddlers both 3 and 4 years old, keeping them
occupied and out of the way of the hammering and other work being done.
Before he knew it, Sunday rolled around, and sure enough Michael woke up to
heavy rain pouring outside. The dampness in the air added to the overall
coldness in the house, and when he went downstairs, his mother was sitting
in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper.
"Hi honey, sleep well?"
"Yeah, mostly I guess." He rummaged through the pantry and withdrew a
box of cereal. As he got a bowl and some milk, his mother looked up.
"I got called to work an hour earlier today." At the look of confusion
on his face, she continued. "Don't worry, I called up to the Wilsons and
talked with Thomas's mother. She said they were going to church, but would
probably be back around 12:30 or so, so you'll be alright. She also said
they would bring you home tonight."
Looking relieved, Michael replied, "Thanks mom." He gave her a hug,
then sat down at the table and proceeded to pour his milk and eat his
breakfast. She looked at him, at his calm exterior and passive expression,
but did not believe for a minute he was as calm as he let on. She knew
what it was like for him to have so few friends, to sadly have no one to
hang out with, and she knew this was a big step for him to have. She
smiled, and then returned to her paper.
As time came for them to leave, she did as she said she would. They
arrived just as the Wilson's were returning from church, and after the two
women spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries, she reminded her son to be
good before backing out of the driveway and heading to work. Thomas was
waiting on the porch, grinning from ear to ear as Michael joined him and
they went inside.
After spending a couple of minutes greeting Thomas's mother and
grandparents, they left and went to the back corner of the house, where
Thomas had his own room, and Michael got his first glimpse at his friend's
world. The room was small, taken up by what appeared to be a full-sized
bed, freshly made and topped with a patch-work quilt. It had a closet back
in one corner that protruded from the wall, and next to it was a
half-dresser, half-desk where a TV set, along with his backpack and school
books. Other than a nightstand that sat at the head of the bed holding a
lamp, no other furniture was found. A window partially behind both the bed
and the nightstand let the only light into the room, which was pretty
sufficient, even with the low clouds hanging outside at the moment. The
walls were bare with the exception of a mirror behind the TV, and a poster
that hung off the side displaying Thomas's favorite NFL team, the
Indianapolis Colts. The floor was carpeted, but looked to be extremely
worn in places, and littered in a few places here and there with socks or
shoes. It was a small room, but yet at the same time, it looked
comfortable, and was definitely clean.
After entering, Thomas closed the door behind them and proceeded over
to the closet, opening it and extracting a hanger, laying it on the bed.
Michael, unsure what to do, sat on the bed facing him, the only way really
that he could sit since the bed was pushed against the far wall and into
the corner of the room. He watched as his friend kicked off his church
shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt, then shyly turned his eyes to
glancing around the room.
"You guys go to church any?" The question coming from Thomas surprised
Michael into glancing back just as his friend removed his shirt, revealing
a smooth, unblemished chest and belly facing him.
"Umm, yeah, but not on Sundays when Mom works, cuz we don't have enough
time to get home and stuff."
"Oh." He started to pull on a t-shirt, dropping his other shirt onto
the bed. Michael again started glancing around the room, but could not
help coming back, stealing quick glances here and there, surprised at the
openness his newfound friend seemed to have, changing clothes in front of
him. Thomas for his part seemed to ignore the fact only a few feet
separated the two as he took his belt off and hung it on the nearby door
knob. Unsnapping his slacks, he unzipped them and started stepping out one
leg at a time, at first with his back to Michael, but eventually revolving
around as he hopped briefly on first one foot and then the other to get
them completely removed. Michael couldn't help put glance at him, seeing
him stand there in the thin white briefs that peeked out from under his
t-shirt every so often. As Thomas stood up, he turned and grabbed the
hanger from the bed, facing the other boy as he pulled the pants neatly
onto the hangar, and then reached and did likewise with the shirt.
Michael did not look away this time, having already been caught by the
sudden turn; he did, however, try to avoid looking at the midsection that
was pretty much eye level with his field of view. In his peripheral vision
however, he did notice how tight the briefs clung to his friend, and as he
turned to hang the clothes in the closet, his outstretched arm caused his
t-shirt to rise, this time giving a full view of the folds it hid
underneath. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, other than a brief tinge
of guilt, having a view before him so openly displayed. Even as Thomas
closed the door and turned around, he could not hide the fact he was
watching, even if unobtrusively. The other boy just half-smiled when he
saw himself being watched, but said nothing. Even Thomas was unsure as to
why he hadn't taken the clothes and went to the bathroom or somewhere, only
that he didn't feel like he needed to, that he didn't have to be shy with
his friend. He reached down and grabbed some sweats which, Michael noticed
for the first time, were lying across a nearby pillow, and pulled them on.
Nothing was said by either one of them, the exchange having lasted only a
minute or two before it was done.
"Okay, umm... you cold or...?"
Michael looked up into the others face and grinned. "Umm, not really,
it's pretty good in here."
Thomas grinned back. "Cool then, here - find the game and turn it on."
Out of thin air it seemed Thomas produced a small TV remote and handed it
to his friend, before moving toward the door, opening and disappearing back
down the hallway.
Michael found one of the games, and had just started to determine the
score when the other returned with two sodas and a bag of chips. "Grams is
making us some sandwiches, so we'll have something to eat in a little
while." He tossed one of the sodas to his friend then half-climbed and
half-bounced around him, across the bed to lie on his stomach, facing the
TV. Michael, taking the queue, followed suit after kicking off his shoes,
and soon both were engrossed in the game.
The day was spent watching the game, eating, hanging out and playing
games. The more and more they got to know each other, the more Michael
felt at ease with his new friend. Not only did he seem to want friendship
himself, he seemed to go out of his way, letting Michael know he trusted
him too. It was getting late when Thomas's mother knocked on the partially
closed door, then poked her head inside.
"Michael, whenever you're ready to go home just let us know and I'll
take you back."
He grinned at her. "Ummm, I might not want to go back!"
She laughed at that, and then shook her head. "Well, I don't know what
to say to that, but I did promise your mother we'd try and take you back by
7 or so."
Thomas interrupted. "Aww, Mom..."
Michael wrinkled his nose. "My Mom gets home about 9:00 or so, so
maybe I could go back around 8:00? Is that too late?"
The woman smiled. "I think we can make it around 8:00 all right."
Michael grinned back, glancing at the clock, noticing it gave them another
hour or so. "Thanks Mrs. Wilson."
She nodded then disappeared, and ss she walked away, Michael whispered,
"You're Mom seems kinda cool."
Thomas shrugged. "Meh, I guess... Grams is okay, Gramps though..." He
left the sentence unfinished.
"What ummm, about your Dad?" Michael asked, not wanting to pry.
Thomas stopped, froze for a second, and then rolled over onto his back.
"My Dad died in a car wreck when I was around 7. It's just me and Mom," he
explained, his voice becoming quiet.
Michael looked at the others expression, and began feeling guilty for
prying into something that maybe wasn't even his business. "I'm sorry
Thomas, I didn't know..."
Thomas gave him a smile, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be,
it's okay. I mean, I remember him, he was really cool, and I miss him, but
I stopped crying that out a long time ago."
Michael noted that the other's tone of voice changed suddenly as he
made that fact, and it made him wonder if there was something else there.
Before he could pursue it, however, Thomas grunted again and then asked
timidly, "You live with just your Mom, right?"
"Yeah, my Dad just left us, left me and Mom, before I was even born.
Totally disappeared, zing, whoosh - gone." Like his friend, his voice fell
to a hush as well.
"What about your Mom? What does she do?"
Michael stretched out beside his friend, turning and propping his head
up on an elbow as they talked. "She's a nurse, down at the medical wing.
She works for one of the doctors down there."
Thomas nodded. "That sounds cool. My Mom works for the county, in the
tax office, you know, where you go pay property taxes and stuff."
"Yeah? That's cool." A pause. "Your grandparents do anything?"
The other shook his head. "Not really, they farm here a little is
all." He paused before continuing. "When Dad died, it got kind of hard on
us; Mom was having problems paying the bills and stuff. That's when we
came here to live with Gramps and Grams. They took us in and gave us a
place to stay and live."
"They're your dad's parents?"
"Yeah." He stared at the ceiling. "It's not all that bad, I mean, we
do okay, I just sometimes wish we had a place of our own is all."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I mean, we have our own place, but we
rent it, it's not like, really ours, you know?" He looked thoughtful for a
moment. "What about family? Like uncles, aunts, cousins..."
Thomas turned his head back to return his friend gaze. "Some. I got
two aunts and uncles in Tennessee, and one in Florida. Umm, 4 cousins, 3
girls, 1 boy, all older than me. Mom was the youngest in her family."
Michael was surprised. "Really? Wow... I've got 2 cousins, boys, both
are really young though, and an aunt and uncle. Not really as big as you
have, but..."
"Yeah." Thomas just stared at him for a moment, before adding. "That
makes us more alike I think, I mean..." He didn't finish the sentence, but
the other nodded, understanding.
After a moment, Michael turned to his friend, a serious look crossing
his face, wanting to ask another question that had been bugging him.
"Thomas?"
"Yeah?"
"Why..." He left it hanging, not able to put his words together like
he wanted.
"Why what?" prompted the other, patiently.
Michael looked back at the waiting figure, collecting his thoughts and
trying again. "Why haven't we, well, ever done this before, you know,
before now? I mean, was I weird or something, or was it something I just
did or...?"
The question was left hanging, but the sudden silence caused the other
to pause. Finally Thomas shrugged his shoulders, but his voice betrayed
that he was anything but clueless. "I dunno, I guess I just always thought
you wanted to be left alone." A partial truth, he knew, but he didn't feel
like he could tell his newfound friend everything, at least not yet.
Surprise registered on the Michael's face. "Really? That's what I
always thought about you!" He was grinning when he said it, and the grin
became infectious, making Thomas inwardly sigh with relief. "I'm glad,"
Michael continued, responding to the others' quizzical expression. "About
us, about you - I'm glad you sat down with me that day."
Thomas grinned. "I'm glad too." Nothing more was offered between them,
and Michael was satisfied, feeling that at least now he knew it wasn't
something else, something unspoken that had kept them apart all these
years.
A half hour later Michael got up and found his shoes, putting them back
on. As he was tying them, he looked at the other, now sitting Indian style
on the bed. "Hey, wanna come over to my house next week? I think the
Redskins and Cowboys play next Sunday."
"Yeah, that would be cool!"
- * - * - * -
In the coming weeks, both began spending more and more time on Sundays.
Often, whether after church or just by mutual agreement, they got together
and watched the games on TV while playing various board games, or cards or
whatever they could find to get into. As Thanksgiving approached, Michael
was disappointed to find out his new friend was going out of state for the
holidays, and although his own family get together wasn't anything to
sneeze at, he found himself wishing they could have gotten together yet
again.
Time was passing slowly for both boys as December came, bringing with
it some of the most bitter, coldest weather the area had seen for several
years. Short of their excursions to school and back, and the occasional
trips they each got to town, both boys were pretty much limited in what
they could do. Regardless, their Sundays were still spent, swapping back
and forth, each week between the two homes, watching football and hanging
out. Thomas's mother was rather strict when it came to school nights
however, preferring to keep her son at home and focused on his work.
One weekend before Christmas, things began taking yet another turn.
Other than that first Sunday, when both had opened up to the other briefly
about their homes, their lives, their likes and dislikes - neither dwelled
on that which they had no control to change. This particular Sunday was
different, however, as Michael's Mom was off from work and had per chance
brought home a live Christmas tree the night before. When Thomas arrived,
a grin split his face when he found out they had both saved decorating it.
He was amazed when he found they had waited for him to come over, letting
him help them decorate it with lights, tinsel and ornaments. Michaels'
mother even went out of her way to find some Christmas music playing on one
of the local radio stations, and they spent a good part of the afternoon
together, the three of them, laughing and joking, hanging out and snacking
on cups of hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.
That afternoon had done something for Thomas, lighting a spark within
him that was different than before. Long was the football game for that
day forgotten, as they all spent time with each other. It was late in the
afternoon when both boys trudged up the stairs to Michaels' room. There
Thomas kicked off his shoes and fell onto the bed, a peaceful expression
crossing his face. "That was so awesome!"
Michael, having fallen next to his friend, grinned. "Yeah, it was."
He paused before asking. "So, what do you want to do now?"
His friend only shrugged his shoulders, so Michael got up and crossed
over to his desk, pulling out an envelope and handing it to his
friend. "Here, umm, this is like, for all you guys, you know, your family
and stuff."
Surprised, Thomas took the envelope, suspecting inside it was a
Christmas card, and as he opened it, he saw that it did indeed have not
only Michael's signature, but his Mom's as well. "Thanks!" he exclaimed,
sincerity in his voice.
"You're welcome." Michael grinned and then reached and grabbed a pillow
from the head of the bed, throwing it at the other's head.
"HHEEYYYY!!!!" Thomas, grabbed the other pillow, and before long, both
were involved in an all out pillow war with the other. At one point,
Michael laughed hard as he told the other, "Come on, don't fight like a
ggiiirrrlllll!"
"Oh yeah?" Both boys embroiled with renewed energy at that, with many
grunts mixed with the obvious fun each was having at the other expense. It
was the first time they had actually became so physically involved with the
other, and for Michael it was a blessing in disguise.
Downstairs Michael's mother walked by the staircase, listening to the
laughter coming from the upper level. It made her pause and smile; it had
been a long time since she had heard that sound, and as it filled the mirth
of the house, it eased the mood that hung in the air even more so. In all
of the 6 years they had lived there, it seemed to acquire a heavy cloud
within it, where happiness seemed suppressed and devoid. She sighed to
herself, remembering how her ex-husband had just walked out on them,
disappearing completely from their lives. From that point onward Michael
had never had the benefit of having a male figure in the house, never had
the benefit of understanding what a positive influence a father can have on
a child. A good father, that is; in the end, she nodded as she walked on
by the steps toward the kitchen, it was still right, for had Michaels
father remained, and events had continued to carry their course, she was
unsure if the man would have had the positive influence she would have
sought.
Upstairs, Michael and Thomas continued their fight, which eventually
broke down into a hard fought wrestling match - hard fought because of
their almost equal size and weight, neither able to gain an advantage over
the other. As they tossed about the bed, each seemingly becoming more
comfortable with the close contact, first one and then both changed
tactics, attempting to tickle the other. Michael finally had worked
himself behind his friend and thrust both his hands up into his friend's
armpits, clinging there and wiggling underneath. It practically paralyzed
Thomas as he thrust forward, belly down onto the bed, thrusting his arms
down tight while attempting to stop the hands from reaching their target
any further, but failing miserably because instead of preventing it he was
helping lock the fingers in place. After several minutes being pinned
underneath the weight of his friend, sprawled helplessly across the foot of
the bed, he stopped squirming underneath. "Stop! Okay, you w-win!"
Michael hesitated before backing off slightly, lifting his weight and
maneuvering the vulnerable figure underneath him so that he rolled over.
Afterwards he lay back down, pinning Thomas underneath, and threatened to
return to the ribs and pits underneath again, pausing only to ask "You
give? You ssuuureeeee?"
Thomas thought about denying, charging on. His face betrayed the fact
he was having second thoughts, but both boys were already gasping for air,
and at the moment Michael had his full body pressing him down against the
mattress. Although his friend was not heavy by any means, it would take a
formidable effort for Thomas to escape and he knew it. He was helpless,
but feeling pretty proud of the moment and what they had done. In a low
voice, he finally replied, "Yeah, I'm sure. I give."
Michael grunted, and then rolled back on the balls of his feet, pulling
his friend up with him into a sitting position, each staring at the other,
each catching their breath. They stared at the other for a long moment,
before Thomas broke out giggling, causing the other to grin and ask,
"What?"
Thomas only shook his head. "Nothing," was the reply, but still
neither made a move to break the connection between them. It was only when
seconds later they heard a car door shut outside, and both realized the
afternoon was coming to an end. Michael grunted and made as if to move off
of his opponent, when Thomas surprisingly caught him by the arm. "Mike?"
Startled, Michael looked back. It was the first time he had been
called by that name in a long time, and it was so uncharacteristic that it
surprised him to hear it from his friend. "Yeah?"
There was hesitancy, an unsure mannerism that looked back at him. The
silence that followed puzzled Michael even further, prompting him once
again, "What?"
Thomas sighed before he responded, just as a knock came at the door
downstairs and they heard Michael's mother answer it. In a quiet, guarded
voice, he spoke barely above a whisper. "Would you let me, I mean, c-can I
do something and not, like, weird you out or anything? Just this once,
maybe?"
Michael raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing his interest. He slowly
nodded and waited, unsure what was going through the others mind, but
willing to let the event play itself out. He sat still as Thomas leaned
forward, slowly at first, as if testing what he was about to do as he
inserted and hooked his arms inside and underneath those of his friend.
For an instant, Michael got scared as their heads came closer together,
thinking perhaps his friend might be intending to kiss him. He had no time
to let those implications sink in however, as Thomas, more assured than at
first, pulled him close, laying his head on the others shoulder. Thomas
enveloped Michael in a warm embrace, surprising his friend at the gentle
gesture so much that at first he sat there doing nothing, rooted and
unresponsive. It occurred to him within seconds though to return the hug,
to at least acknowledge it, and so he slowly put his arms around his friend
in like manner. There was a calculated moment in the other's actions, one
that gave away the feelings of uncertainty he must have been experiencing,
because Michael felt the tension seep away. It was in this moment,
however, a voice called from downstairs "Thomas, your Grandmother is here!"
When Thomas didn't at first respond, Michael called out for him. "Okay
Mom, we'll be down in just a minute." As he replied, he still held the
figure before him, sharing the embrace and feeling as if something more was
being shared, too.
It was a long moment, Thomas pulling them together so firmly that there
was little space to be found. Their chests were so close together it would
not have taken much for one to feel the heartbeat of the other. Michael
noticed he could feel the warm breath on his shoulder, a feeling that
brought a peaceful calmness to him as he decided he liked this. Even
though each wore t-shirts, there was closeness in this simple action he had
never experienced before. Although his Mom and other, mostly older people,
had hugged him often enough, here for the first time was someone his own
age, and it wasn't just a hug - it was an embrace of sorts that seemed to
convey something - but what? He wasn't sure, but as they held each other
something stirred inside of him that was warm and pure, and it gave him a
feeling of contentment.
As the voices of the talking women floated up the stairs, Thomas
finally gave a big sigh and slowly withdrew, breaking the moment and
sitting back. Michael looked into the others eyes, then smiled, whispering
"You okay?"
Thomas returned the smiled meekly and just as quietly whispered back,
"Yeah, thanks." His eyes were moist, which moved Michael inwardly. He
wasn't sure what had passed between them - to him it could have been just a
simple hug, but yet it wasn't. It felt like there was something more, but
he couldn't put a finger on it, and the expression greeting him now was an
almost lopsided grin.
He grinned back, asking the ultimate question on his mind, "Thanks for
what?" Would he learn what was going through the others mind?
Thomas hesitated before answering, as if he were struggling to find
what he wanted to say. "For not -" He stopped, then lowered his voice even
more, a feat that made Michael have to strain to hear. "For not freaking
out on me... For being my friend and not pushing me away and, you know,
just letting me thank you I guess." He ended it with a thickness in his
voice, and when his eyes looked back up Michael saw a sincerity in them.
He had never witnessed his friend coming close to crying before that moment
- even since the day of the infamous bus fight - but something was there
now. His grin turned into a normal smile then, and he whispered back,
"You're welcome."
Having not yet moved, Thomas was still half-way pinned underneath his
friend, who had rocked forward onto his knees when they hugged. It wasn't
until they both heard laughter drifting slowly upstairs that they both were
pulled back to reality, and the fact that Thomas was about to leave.
Michael pivoted to one side of the bed, freeing his friend as he started to
get up and look for his shoes. As he pulled them on, Michael was still
sitting on the back side of the bed, up against the wall, watching him with
a curious interest. At one point, he offered all on his own, "You can
thank me any time you want Thomas."
Thomas grinned as he looked back. "You didn't mind, like... I mean,
hugging you was okay?"
Michael nodded his head again. "Yeah." It was a quiet moment. "It's
no big deal, honest. I'm just glad you're my friend, too, that you... like
me, trust me and stuff." He said it with meaning, and Thomas only smiled
and accepted it as such before pivoting up, having finished tying his
shoes. He extended a hand to the other, offering and then pulling him up
and away from the bed. A smaller voice called up from below. "Thomas,
honey, are you coming?"
He rolled his eyes, "Coming Grams, just getting my shoes on!" As he
pulled his jacket out of the corner, Michael suddenly stopped him before
they walked out the door.
"Umm... How about coming back next week one day?"
Thomas looked up. "Yeah? You want me too?"
Michael's face turned into a lop-sided grin. "Of course I do dufus!"
He picked up a pillow from the floor and threw it at the other, who reached
up and grabbed it, pulling it from the air, causing both to giggle.
Michael thought about it for a second. "Um, Christmas break starts
Tuesday, right? How about then? It's only a half day, but..."
Thomas nodded, getting the idea. "You think your Mom will let me come
back that soon?"
Michael shrugged and then smirked. "Oh yeah, I think so. Mom works
late on Tuesday in the Emergency ward most of the time, so I'm usually here
by myself till 8 or 9 o'clock!" He paused, took a deep breath then plowed
forward, timidly. "See if maybe your Mom will let you spend the night... I
mean, if you want to."
Grinning, Thomas responded, "Really? Stay here? I thought you might
never ask me!" Seeing the surprised expression on the others face, he just
grinned. "I mean, well, honest, you wouldn't want to stay with me, trust
me." He didn't elaborate, but Michael caught something in the expression
that made him wonder. Thomas blushed. "It's not like that, I promise."
"Not like what?" He was confused, as it could have meant a hundred
different things.
Thomas just shook his head though. "It's more like, I dunno, my gramps
and everything, that's all. You spending then night with me just wouldn't
be, ummm, fun I guess..." He grinned afterwards. "I'll ask my Mom though
when I get home tonight, okay?" Michael nodded, grinning as they both
began hurrying into the hallway then and moved down the stairs.
Within minutes after his friend left the house, Michael suddenly felt
empty, and the familiar feelings of lonesomeness returned, only this time
as never before because of having just spent the afternoon with his friend.
He hung out, at his mom's insistence, downstairs for a while, listlessly
watching TV but yet not really paying any attention to what was on. His
mind was going over the events that occurred during those last few minutes;
somehow he felt drawn into a different world, one which made him sad and
longing, in a sense, because when they had hugged - although it had been
strange at first - it had developed into something meaningful not just for
Thomas, but also for himself. Instead of feeling guilty, the closeness and
the contact they had shared made him feel glad in a way, but not without
experiencing mixed emotions. He had told Thomas he could hug him anytime -
not directly, but in so many words he had meant it and the meaning was
plain. Yet at the same time he wondered about what he had done, and why it
had meant so much to him to say it. He knew Thomas enough to know they
would never do stuff like that in school, but in their own private little
world, he found himself hoping he could share it again. The impact it made
on him was that profound.
He didn't think of it as being queer, like he knew some kids would. He
had already guessed that was what made Thomas so hesitant to begin with.
If he were like some kids they knew, he would have fought to get away at
the first sign of the embrace. It was one thing to be queer or even
queer-like in school, but it was almost as bad of a thing to just be open
as well. Boys were not supposed to be touchy-feely or emotional when it
came to being around their peers. Too many false impressions and
stereotypes were typecast with guys when even the simplest of things dared
to confront themselves. The only exceptions seem to transcend the status
quo when anything occurred between guys and girls - that could be accepted
without question. It was nothing for a girl to be all broken up and then
get support from either the guys or other girls within their inner circle.
There was nothing about sex or stereotypes or whatever in those moments,
but guys still had to be careful because even the display of raw emotions
would easily bring about the worst in some people.
Michael had seen it, though - and at the unlikeliest of times: Thomas
had let his guard down for a moment, and had asked him if he would let his
guard down too, for that moment. Laying on the couch and watching the TV,
Michael reflected that what bothered him most wasn't any fear of being
touchy feely, but rather the fact he *liked* it, and he found himself sad
and lonesome from the lack of it. Never before had anyone opened up as
much trust to him, and he was surprised by the gesture. He wondered what
Thomas was thinking, what he was feeling right now... was it the same as
him? Or was there something more inside the kid than he had met yet? Even
worse, as the thought crossed his mind, was he reading too much into all of
it, thinking something was there that maybe had not really been in place.
No, he decided - the look, the expression, the whole effort that made it
happen, it wasn't just a glib moment. In fact, the whole day they spent
together had showed Michael there was something more, something sentimental
yet in a cool way; of that much, he was sure. So what was it? And what was
drawing them together even closer still?
Michael didn't know, nor did he have the answers to other questions
that floated around his mind, but one thing was sure - it was going to be a
long 2 days before he would get the chance to find out.
(To be continued...)
---------------------------------
Comments to: EKidKy@hotmail.com
Other series by me: Lifes Road of Discoveries
(www.Nifty.org, Gay-Young-Friends section, Early 2008)