Date: Sun, 8 Aug 1999 16:29:28 EDT
From: Dmetri Xavier (dmetrixavier@hotmail.com)
Subject: The Festival

Disclaimer: The usual yada yada yada...don't read this if you're under 18
and it's illegal (or just don't get caught :) Author retains ownership of
the work and holds all copyright.  This story however may be archived with
said author's permission.  Please don't read this if male/male
relationships offend you, etc.

I plan on keeping this story going, but I won't if popularity doesn't hold
true.  This is based on actual events in my life this time, but most of it
is fiction (a kind of wishing "what if..."). I would've written more, but
at this standing this is already 15 pages double spaced, so I'll hold out
for now! All comments, suggestions, CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms can be
addressed to dmetrixavier@hotmail.com.  Flames will of course be ignored.

				          
			      "The Festival"


     It was a long day.  My school was preparing to host the annual
Shakespearean Festival for the entire school district, and beyond.  It was
a festival where we all got together and had acting competitions.  My best
friend, Annie, and I were due to compete in the "Duo-Dramatic" category,
playing King Lear and Lady Cordelia.  We painstakingly cut our scene down
to the required seven minutes, and we were both extremely nervous.  We were
both Pageant Coordinators that day also, so we had the added benefit of
being supervisors to the final Awards ceremony.

This was to be my crowning triumph to my Senior Year, because I was not
only competing in the performance area, but I also had the winning program
and T-shirt design and one of my costumes was competing in the Costume
Category.  Kameron, the girl who helped me sew the costume, was going to
model it as "Lady Whitney Robertson of Bath". The point of this category
was the person wearing the costume took on a "role" of a lady, then
presented herself to the "court"(the audience).  Then the person who won
best costume presided as Queen or King of the Festival, sitting on the
stage as the winning scene entries performed in front of her.  Four other
"runners-up" sat with her and acted as her Ladies-In-Waiting.

At this point, I was one my last nerve.  It was two days before the
Festival, and I just couldn't get things to go right!  I was in the process
of decorating the throne platform, when Kameron ran up to tell me that her
bodice ripped up the back.  Then Annie runs up to tell me that the stage
lights aren't working the right way.  Then our theatre teacher, Ms. Luerer
comes running in needing me to decorate the publicity case.  I needed a
break!

I told Annie to check the main circuit breaker for the lights, and to pull
the main switch down.  I then told Kameron that my sewing machine was in
the theatre room still set up.  Then I told Ms. Luerer to have Kameron do
the display case when she was finished with the costume.  When everyone
seems satisfied, I quietly went out the back door of the Auditorium to grab
a bite to eat and a quick smoke.  Not that I smoke often, but I do when my
nerves are seriously frazzled!

I stood back there, amongst the broken set pieces and such, letting myself
cool down in the late afternoon air.  I pulled up an old crate, and sat
down to eat the meager lunch I had to pack myself hurriedly that morning.
A tomato sandwich, a juice jug, and a bag of cheese crackers.  I wolfed
down the sandwich, and then opened up my pack of cigarettes.  They were
seriously stale; like I said I never smoke.  I took one out anyway, and
began fishing for a lighter when I hear from behind me, "Need a light?"

I turned around to face the voice.  It belonged to a guy who looked vaguely
familiar to me.  He was almost my height (which is saying a lot since I
stand almost 6'3"), and my polar opposite as far as looks go: he was dark,
maybe a mix between Latino and white, lean but muscular, short dark brown
curly hair, dark hazel-green eyes, and a killer smile.  He was dressed in
all white, a white collarless button-up shirt and white CK jeans.  Whereas
I'm your typical California boy: long blond hair, blue eyes, and pale white
skin (I hate the sun), and built about the same way.  I was wearing my
grubbies, and I felt I looked like shit.

"Yeah, thanks", I said as I held out my cigarette.

He struck a match, shielding it from the breeze, "Do you remember me?"

"You do look familiar, but I am terrible with names.  Faces I remember, but
not names," I answered as I puffed on my cig to light it.

"My name is Scott.  Scott Cord.  We had a couple classes together last
year, before I graduated."

"Oh...okay.  Now I remember you!  You were in my gym class like back in the
ninth grade...but I don't remember you after that....", I sighed
sheepishly.

"We had dance together last year with Mr. Gonzales."

Then the memory struck me.  "Omigod, I'm soooo sorry!  I remember you now.
I told you that I was bad with names!", we laughed, "You were really into
dancing.  I was supposed to be in one of your pieces, but I had to quit the
show because of a play I was doing."

"Yeah, I ended up cutting the piece from the show after that.  I had
something in mind, and it would've worked, but I just couldn't make it look
right, you know?"

"Oh, I know how that is!  Look at me!  I'm so stressed over this Festival
thing that I haven't even told you my name.  It's..."

He cut me off, "James.  I know."

I was kinda startled, "Oh...well at least one of us has a good memory."

He smiled.  I was awestruck at his smile.  I don't know why, maybe because
I was jealous.  My smile has always been crooked or forced, so I hardly
ever do it.  I began packing my stuff up, and he then reached out his hand
to help me up.  I grabbed it, and noticed how strong his grip was.  At that
moment, we both heard a loud POP!

"Are you double jointed in the wrist man?  Damn, I've never heard a bone
crack like that!"

Many things where flashing through my mind at that point.  "Omigod, now he
thinks I'm like some limp-wristed fruit!", I thought.  "Ummmm, well, I've
been doing a lot of work today.  Probably stressed it out or something."

"Oh okay.  Where you headed?", he asked me.

"Back inside.  I have a lot of work to do still.  Why are you here anyway?
Didn't you graduate last year?"

"Yeah, I did.  I live right around the corner, and I saw something going on
over here, and I was wondering what was up," he answered.

"Cool!  We could use all the help we can get.  Do you mind?"

"No, not at all.  I'm bored.  Why not?"

We made our way to the backstage area.  I tried to lead him through,
thinking he would get lost, but he waved it off.

"I know my way around back here, man.  Thanks."

"How do you?  I've never seen you in anything.  I mean, I would remember
that."

"I was on Tech Crew.  I worked on that once-act thing you did last year.
You know, when all of you were directing your own plays."

"Ohhhhh....okay.  I still don't remember you though, except for that PE
class.  I'm sorry...", I grinned sheepishly.

He laughed.  I still couldn't help but notice his smile, "It's okay dude.
You wouldn't have seen me.  I was running sound in the upper booth."

Just then, Kameron walked in wearing her gown.  She was a sight to behold.
The dress was made to accentuate her upper body like the Elizabethan
dresses did.  We made it out of emerald green brocade velvet I was lucky
enough to find on sale at my favorite fabric outlet.  Her ruff stood up
regally, framing her face.  The dress stood out just the way I wanted,
creating a perfect almost square silhouette.

"Kammy, if we dyed your hair red, you'd be the spitting image of Elizabeth
herself," Mrs. Luerer gushed, "James, you've outdone yourself.  How in the
world were you able to make a farthingale?"

"Hehehe, Kammy, you wanna show her?" I said, winking at Kameron.

Kameron then diminutively lifted her skirt at the bottom, pulling it up as
if she where flashing every one.  This in turn revealed the "farthingale".
A large oval laundry basket cut in half!

Everyone there, including Scott, starting laughing in earnest.  Mrs. Luerer
came to the point where she had tears in here eyes.  Kameron let down her
skirt, straightened herself in a regal manner, and strode out of the room
dramatically.

Scott then whispered in my ear, "Dude, I know I may sound stupid, but what
is a farthingale?"

I swung my backpack off my shoulder and onto the ground.  I produce my
portfolio/scrapbook for him, flipping to the picture of what looked like a
steel corset with an attached cage, "That is a farthingale."

"Ouch.  I can't imagine wearing something like that everyday."

"Yeah, well imagine a 70 to 150 pound dress layered over it.  Then you
really have to admire those women!  That dress Kammy was wearing weighs in
a 65 pounds, only because nowadays fabric is much lighter."

"You made that dude?"

"Well, yeah...uhhmmm...I mean, I lived in a big family.  My mom works all
the time.  I had to learn to sew to fix my own clothes."

"Hey man, I have a couple of shirts that need new buttons..."

I laughed at this.  He smiled again.  I was beginning to really like this
guy.

You see, all my close friends knew I was bisexual.  Kammy, Annie, and a few
others.  Not my parents yet, but I was working on that.  And I wasn't
really gay either.  I mean, because there was a couple of times where I
really found Kammy attractive, and we made out.  The only reason we didn't
choose to go further was that we where really good friends and wanted to
keep it that way.  We did experiment though.  She thoughtfully asked me one
day if I was happy balancing on the fence, instead of choosing a side.  I
liked that metaphor, and use it to this day.

"James!" Annie called as she ran up to me, "You wanna rehearse a little
more? I mean, festival is like tomorrow, and we haven't had any time
together in the last couple of days."

I looked at Scott, "Do you mind?  This might take a few?"

"No James not a problem," he said, "I like watching you act."

I blushed at this comment.  Annie then dragged me up on the stage, "He's
cute Jamie.  Definitely someone I would go for."

I felt the blush getting hotter, "Shhhh, he'll hear you!  I don't eve know
if he's that way..."

"He's a hottie...." She sang out musically.

I glared at her, and took my position on my "throne".  Festival is
bare-bones acting; no costumes, make-up, anything.  You are allowed four
chairs for a set.  We utilized them well.  We began to act out the scene.
I felt that chill I get when in front of an audience.  I love it.  It's
better that drugs!

At the last part of the scene, I had to die; the hardest thing for an actor
to do without feeling or being melodramatic.  This time though, it felt
natural to me.  I performed the final monologue with such power even I felt
it.  I cried and wept over the dead body of my daughter Cordelia that I
felt the tears actually welling in my eyes.  Then I just simply slipped
away.

The next thing I knew there was a brief silence, then I heard a thunderous
applause.  Everyone in the theatre had been so transfixed on our scene that
they had stopped what they were doing and watched.  Annie and I took our
bow, and walked back down to where Scott was waiting.

Scott wasn't clapping.  Instead, he was looking at me with such intensity I
thought that it looked like either he was mad at me or he was lost!  He
grabbed my hand in his and said simply, "That was great."

I felt me heart give a loud THUD...I realized at that point that he was
looking at me with awe.  I was in awe, and I wanted to know more about this
guy.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, except for when I went back to
decorating the festival queen's throne platform with some dried flowers and
stuff that Annie and Scott started fooling around.  It amazed me how he was
able to get along with my friends so quickly.  They were playing like they
were getting married, the platform was the altar, and Annie was holding a
really ugly busy of dried cattails for a bouquet.  Kameron was playing
preacher, in her best pseudo-Billy Graham voice.

The day seemed to go easier and faster with Scott around.  I had this brief
fleeting moment of jealousy while he was playing bridegroom with Annie, but
that all left when I realized that he was just having fun.  They weren't
serious about it, and if they where, I think it should have gone done as
one the most tackiest "weddings" in history!

While we were packing up, Annie and Kameron cornered me as I was walking
back from the attic taking back the left over decorations.  They started
pestering me about what I was going to do about Scott.

"Jamie, I'm sure he's at least bi!  He keeps staring at you any time he
thinks your not looking," Kameron informed me.

"Well, that's your opinion Kammy, he may just be, I don't know,
pre-occupied with something else," I answered back.

"Jamie, I gave him my test..." Annie teased.

"You didn't!", I whispered.

"Yes I did.  And even Kammy saw he didn't react.  Jamie, he's gay.  I know
it.  I mean, come on, you're the one who helped me develop my 'gaydar'."

Annie's "test" consisted of doing some semi-erotic things with her breasts
that would be seen to the general public as normal, but that would give any
heterosexual male an instant erection.  I suddenly became entranced with
the idea of Scott being gay.  Besides the typical sexual images that float
through a person's mind at that point, I was imagining us sitting on a
couch in front of a TV just cuddling, with a bowl of popcorn between us.
The girls were still gushing over what I should do about him when all the
sudden he appeared.

"I heard my name?" he inquired.

I was so bloody embarrassed, I had to get back some of my own, " Oh it was
nothing.  The ladies here were just debating on your penis size, " I pulled
his arm and walked toward the door, leaving my best friends fuming and
laughing at the same time, "You want to go for some food or something?"

"Well, we could go to my place and I could make you something." He offered.

"Make me something?  You mean you cook?"

"Yeah, I plan on going to culinary school and becoming a chef."

"Oh cool.  Hey, then that sound good." I answered.  God he unnerved me!  I
felt so stupid around him.

We walked about a block or two, just chatting about this and that, until we
came to this really nice section of houses that I used to drive through and
drool over, wishing I could live in one.  We stopped in front of a big
Greek-revival mansion, nestled on top of a rolling green hill, and
surrounded by a black iron gate.

"Wow," Was all I could say.

"Nice huh?  It's my dad's.  This is what you get when you are an overpaid
attorney."

"My God it looks like Tara." I mused.

"It what?" he looked at me quizzically.

"You ever seen 'Gone with the Wind'?"  He shook his head no, "Well, this
looks like the house Scarlett O'Hara lived in."

"Well, suh, shall weeze mosey on up to this here house so we can make us
some vittles?" He said in a mock Southern accent.

"Dude you sound like a Beverly hillbilly!" I laughed.

He led me around the house, to a smaller house in the courtyard.  It looked
a little like it's predecessor, sans the columns.  He pulled out his keys,
and opened the door.  We went inside.  It was tastefully furnished, and had
a lot of open space.  The furniture was a mixture of modern and antique,
almost to the point of being too much, but all looking like it belonged
together.  It was then I noticed that the moon was shining through the
skylight in the living room.

I walked to the center of the room, mesmerized by the beauty of that
silvery orb.  I stood there, almost forgetting where I was, when all the
sudden I heard the whirl of a food processor and the sound of a knife
chopping on a cutting board.  I walked toward the sound, and found myself
in a beautiful gourmet kitchen, nicely appointed with stainless steel
appliances and cream colored tile.

"I see you like the moon too," Scott said over the whirring of the food
processor.

"I've always loved the moon.  Ever since I was a kid.  My dad used to put
me up on his shoulders and I'd try to reach for it.  When I was really
little, I used to cry because no one could give it to me," I said,
reminiscing.

Scott turned away from the stuff he was chopping to reach over me to grab a
small garlic press.  When he did this, his body pressed against mine ever
so softly.  And as he backed away, I suddenly felt his lips press gently
onto mine.  It took me a moment to realize that, "Oh my god, he is kissing
me!"  He then backed away nonchalantly, and went filling the press with
cloves of garlic, smashing them.  I was still in shock, and I could feel
that he was tense, waiting for my reaction.  I decided to play off it, make
him think a little.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" he replied, like he wasn't sure with the tone of my comment.

"You heard me Scott.  What the fuck was that?"

He started to get really tense, like he might've just done something really
stupid.  He went back to nervously chopping and grinding the stuff for
dinner, "Ah...ummm...I...well...mmmm..." He was really at a loss for words.
I could see the sweat forming on his brow, so I made my next move, "Don't
tell me you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"What?  What do you mean?" He was lost.

"Scotty, when you kiss somebody, don't be such a tease and then just leave
them hanging.  You have to finish off with something like this," and with
that, I wrapped my arms around him, my left hand behind his head, and
kissed him soundly.

My lips fell together with his perfectly, like they were meant to fit
together.  My tongue darted his lips apart, and I could feel him loosening
up at this point. We kissed like this for a while...our tongues exploring
each others mouths while time stood still.  We finally broke the kiss when
we needed to come up for air.

I patted him on the chest, "See, much better." Then I turned and walked
toward the dining room.  I opened the cupboard and began setting the table
for two...



So what do you all think?  Let me know if I should continue.  Questions or
comments at dmetrixavier@hotmail.com Please do check out my other two
stories, "Dream Man" and "Coming of Age".