Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2006 19:44:43 +0000
From: M Williams <kollegekid54321@hotmail.com>
Subject: Living with a Past - Chapter 11

- DISCLAIMER - The following story, novel, or chapter
contains homosexual themes and is not intended for anyone
under the legal viewing age - If depictions of homosexual
activities disturb you - Do Not Continue To Read This Story
- Feedback appreciated
Copyright - 2005 - Max Williams
(Kollegekid54321@hotmail.com)
******************************************************
Chapter 11
     Jason sped most unpleasantly down Montgomery Ave.  This
particular Monday morning, the main street of Capetown was
covered in leaves and branches, trash and puddles from the
intense rains that had been hitting the town hard all
weekend.  The entire village of tightly woven, well treed,
old-growth suburbs squeezed between Montgomery Ave and the
waterfront of Lake Erie was remarking about the odd weather
for so late in spring, and the beautiful, walk-able quality
that the streets had, had been scared away by the torrential
weather and eerily low hanging clouds.
     That morning Jason had run into several of his
neighbors - the three giggly blonde sisters had been running
down the street, holding aloft newspapers to protect them
from the violent gusts of wind.  Old Mrs. Cremshaw next door
had completely taken to her house, muttering about the old
days, and Jason's parents were particularly irritable about
having to leave for work in such weather, and especially
about letting Jason have one car to travel to school with
and making them split the other car between Phil's factory
and Pam's office.
     Coupled with the sinking feeling in his chest at the
prospect of having to explain himself about the party on
Saturday night, Jason was finding it harder and harder to
erect a smile to hide behind, as well as finding it more and
more likely that any such smile would have been
inappropriate anyway.  He watched the dull, grey scenery
flit by on both sides of the car as he sped along the road,
going nervously fast.  He reminded himself how much he
didn't want to arrive at his destination, and slowed
considerably.
     He was getting into the city now, and starting to pass
more and more traffic as the road widened into four lanes
and became less of a quaint main street and more of a city
thoroughfare.  After a couple more minutes he was even aware
of a carpool to his left full of other Cape City High kids
whom he vaguely knew, but no one that had been at the party,
and no one he really talked to. Regardless, he still
couldn't bring himself to look over at them somehow.
     The thick traffic stopped at a red light, and Jason
nervously flicked on the radio.  He needed to get his mind
off the situation at hand but there was nothing on but
weather (supposed to rain all week), traffic (backed up all
along Montgomery Ave at the Cape City line), and news (two
state troopers found murdered in a rural cemetery in the
rust belt), none of which helped to ease his mind.
     Inconspicuous, he finally decided.  I'll be totally
inconspicuous.  Stay low - spend breaks in the bathroom and
lunch in the gym - no - that'll look fruity.  I'll go for a
drive at lunch.  Stay low - don't talk to anyone - except
Meghan - till this blows over.  Stay low - don't talk.  Stay
low - don't talk.  It wasn't a great plan, Jason decided,
but it kept him out of humiliation's way for the day at
least, which was all he could ask for.  The great, tall,
athletic boy was quiet at heart; gentle and non
confrontational, and it killed him to think he might be
called out on such a humiliating thing in front of all his
friends.  He'd never be able to do that to anyone else.  It
was unfair.  So stay low, he told himself again with a sigh,
and.  Don't.  Talk.  You fucking idiot.

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

     Fredo was waiting for Jason the second he got to
school.  Fredo had sped to his locker, coat off, books
collected, bathroom, peed, washed his hands, gotten out the
book, found the page, and sped back to the fourth floor
landing on the parking lot side of the large art deco high
school.  That particular stairwell had been added in the
1960's to the rear of the building, when they'd put in the
parking lot, and Fredo had a wide plate glass window
overlooking every car that came and went.  Few people had
any reason to be at the rear of the fourth floor so he was
cocksure as he opened his book and rested it on the black
metal railing in front of the window, tracing his finger
down the ancient writing and even mouthing some of the
words.
     Fredo's dark face and eyes were pale and bloodshot and
it was obvious he hadn't gotten any sleep.  His clothes were
the same he'd worn on Friday, and clearly unwashed since
then, and his sneakers were caked in mud and still slightly
wet, as was the mysterious book he was nervously clutching.
Come on, come on, he angrily thought.  I've watched for you
before, you're always here by now!  Fredo's mind flitted for
a second to how different things were going to be from now
on once Jason did arrive, and it suddenly made him
lightheaded and happy.  It also got him a little hard, and
he happily pushed his member down a little as he scanned the
parking lot again looking for that familiar old sedan.
     Finally, the right car buzzed into sight from behind
the left wing of the school, the school's front, and slowed
as it came to the driveway and the turning signal started
dully flashing.  Fredo started, and then adjusted himself at
the window.  He repositioned the book and mouthed the words
again as he watched the small car pull in and resolutely
take the farthest spot in the farthest corner of the parking
lot.  And then he watched, awed, as Jason got out of the
car, slowly opened the trunk for his bookbag and duffel bag,
and then, even more slowly, began the long walk to the
nearest entrance door at the base of the rear stairwell,
four floors immediately below Fredo.
     He's trying to stay low, Fredo guessed.  Whatever -
time for work.  Fredo felt lightheaded again as he
concentrated on the words in the book and was vaguely aware
of getting harder and started rubbing it.  Somewhere behind
him someone finally had a need to use the stairway and he
thought he heard a girl scoff, or exclaim, or something, but
the bitch went downstairs and he was alone again.
    The page that Fredo was looking at was very old, and
very worn, and still fairly wet, but despite it's age and
rather delicate condition it was in one piece with no torn
corners and only very slightly yellowed, and none of the ink
had run.  Fredo silently read the messy scrawled writing and
traced the index finger of his free hand over the crazy jet
black lettering.  He concentrated on the book, and then
concentrated on Jason.  Something was building.  With every
word that Fredo read he could feel a tension growing in his
head and his hand, and a dull ache behind his eyes.  He grew
instantly hard as he realized this and stopped rubbing
himself immediately - he had no fucking idea what the fuck
was going on.  He stopped reading for a moment and looked up
and out the window.  The tension was still present but it
ebbed slightly . . . until Fredo looked back and read
another sentence.  It grew again.  He forced himself to read
another sentence.  The dull ache behind his eyes was about
the same but his head was now so tense it was affecting his
ability to read and he could only go word by word.  He
looked up again.  Jason was obviously walking very slowly,
head down now as he strode ever closer to the high school.
Jason stopped altogether and tied his shoe, and then started
again his death march.
    Good, Fredo thought, he's giving me enough time to do
this.  Fredo went back to reading the words, slowly . . .
slowly.  Two lines left, he realized.  As he waded through
the remaining text it occurred to him that he felt as though
he was being charged up, like a battery.  And the more he
forced himself through, the more tension built inside of him
until he could barely stand it.  One more line . . . half a
line . . .  He was getting closer and closer, and his head
was a knot and his eyes ached, and he felt more and more
like he would burst at any minute, or at least faint, or
collapse, or die, or something . . . until he read the final
word, and then looked up.  This time, instead of ebbing
away, the tension stayed in his head with a satisfying
stolidity, fueling the ache behind his eyes, but suddenly,
those symptoms felt less like random annoyances and throbs
and more like a laser poised for attack.
     He looked out the window again and was suddenly hit
with the fact that he could see inimitable distances away,
and with those new eagle's eyes looked directly down at
Jason and though he was still four flights away, Fredo could
suddenly pick out every hair on his head, every pore on his
skin, and noticed the odd way that his tan had ebbed in two
day's time.  Fredo concentrated on Jason, on the whole being
down there, praying, struggling, and stressing to release
the ball of wild energy building in his head.  Something
wasn't right though.  Something wasn't working.  Fredo
couldn't tell what was up, but nothing was going anywhere,
nothing was moving . . . not that he knew how this was
supposed to work, but all the same nothing was happening and
that wasn't the fucking point.
     It suddenly struck him.  Fredo looked down again,
straight down at the shiny brown op of Jason's head, because
he was almost at the doors to the first flight of stairs.
Jason was taking a couple seconds to square his shoulders
and take a deep breath, and Fredo used that to his
advantage.  Look up, Fredo thought.  Almost instantly, so
instantly that it nearly startled Fredo out of his
concentration, Jason looked up.  And in that moment, their
eyes met and Fredo concentrated again and suddenly felt that
which he didn't know to look for, but recognized once it
happened.
     There was a slackening in his head.  The tension
immediately relaxed, and in such a way that Fredo wasn't
entirely sure it didn't have something to do with the way
his eagle's eyes were suddenly riveted on Jason's, and the
way that he felt his eyes tense, dilate, and open to twice
their normal size.  There may have even been a slightly wavy
quality to the air for a second between the two young men .
. . but then again, maybe it was a trick of the light.  And
then Fredo's eyes returned to normal, and after a few blinks
Fredo found that he was looking down, normally, at Jason,
four flights below, as blurrily as he ever would have.
There wasn't one pain in his head, or one ache behind his
eyes; his cock was totally soft and he felt fine overall, in
fact, better than he did before and he forgot he hadn't had
any sleep.
    Jason looked puzzled, way down there.  Fredo, shaking
off what just happened and becoming excited at what he
thought he'd just accomplished, hazarded a small wave at
Jason.  After a moment, Jason apparently registered what
Fredo was doing, because he flipped him the finger and
entered the school.
     Fredo was awestruck.  What?!  He began flipping
violently through the book, checking and double-checking the
page he was on.