Date: Wed, 28 Aug 2013 04:16:05 +0000 From: chuck haugan <chuckles97@live.com> Subject: Gay / Young Friends / Boys by the Bay / Part 6 / Fear This is a short story of the life of a kid growing up in the late 70`s. This whole thing is nothing more than one big lie! This is why we call it fiction. So, none to the names or places should be considered real. Having said that, if you are prohibited from reading sexual content due to age, banned by local law, or have issue with reading stories of people engaging in sex within the following pages, stop reading now and go find the Disney page. This bit of fiction is not for you! You are warned! All the copy rights and legal crap that normally apply and sited for stories posted here also apply to this story. This story cannot be reproduced without the consent of the author. Please support Nifty.org with donations and contribute some scribbles... It's kind of fun. Chapter 6: Fear The door shut, he locked it and turned to me with a smile. He glided passed me to the window at the other end of the very white room with a single portrait of a smiling clown staring down at me from the opposite wall from where I sat. Back in the 70's, Venetian blinds came in one color: egg shell white. There wasn't much imagination of décor unless you were a hippie or hopped up on an illegal substance. The blinds were dropped over the front of the eight pained window. He slowly adjusted the slats to allow just enough light for the incandescent bulb in the task mirror to flood the little bench where I sat in my white tennis outfit Mom picked out that morning. The paper crunched and cackled under my butt with every nervous move my body made. The man approached me slowly and carefully with soothing words I couldn't understand. He was speaking but his voice was like background music as my mind raced to process the room's contents. I shifted around trying to figure it out: a small sink, wardrobe, white walls, a picture of a clown riding a unicycle, and this bench that stood taller than me with paper coving the vinyl cushion. "You're a good boy... A brave boy. Mama will be back soon..." his tone was the same as my big brother's when he greeted a stray dog, "Now let's have a look at you. It will be fun! I promise." His hand caressed my knee and lower thigh of my left leg for a few seconds as he knelt down to lock eyes. He rubbed his way to my ankle and he untied my shoe as though he was pulling pedals from a daisy. Plop, plop went my Beta tennis shoes to the floor. He snugged both of my socks up and held my feet together and stared for a few seconds. Taking my right foot in hand, he rubbed it through the sock and glanced up at me with a huge smile before deliberately and slowly peeling away my sock. "Oh, God, how perfect," He gasped and then quickly peeled my left sock off bringing it to his nose and inhaling like it where his last breath before tossing it over his shoulder. He bought my feet together again as he dropped to his knees to gaze at them. His teeth were growing longer and his eyes were turning from brown to reflective gold of a black cat as I stared down at him as he sniffed between my toes. I closed my eyes and began to shake. He was kissing my toes and then licking the bottom of my feet. I was riveted in fear: it didn't tickle and I wasn't laughing like when our Labrador would lap away at me for fun. My eyes were glued shut. I couldn't look. He was a drooling, growing, hell hound of a wolf licking and sucking my feet. I imagined, if I dared open my eyes, with his first bite of flesh, I'd hear snapping crunches of bones and toe nails as he'd stare back at me with trails of blood streaming down his snout. He played this little piggy and kissed each little toe three or four times. Before he was done he sucked each of my big toes so hard he slurped and his breath was like a man surfacing from a long dive. He paused and his drool cooled my feet in the open air. I could feel the tickle of his hands somewhere miles away within my mind. They were wandering up my legs and paused just below my shorts. I was numb: alone, abandoned, she left me behind for the others, and I was left with him lingering above my body ready to devour me, if I even peaked. I could feel a finger push further up my leg and trail around the fringes of my underwear. A broken pant left his lips as I felt a rush of air blow by as he stood. He lifted me to my feet. I sunk into the cushion with a crunch of paper. "Stick'em up," he jested, as he tickled my belly to tug my polo shirt over and off my body. "It's okay... We're gonna make sure your body is working the way it should and that's always fun... Your feet work just fine! That was fun, Right? Open your eyes... I won't bite!" "He's a liar... All wolves lie." I thought. Peter and the Wolf, Red Riding Hood, and the Three Little Pigs all began and ended badly because they simply scared the living shit out of me. I lost sight of good endings or a moral of a story, if they were scary. Mama left me here just as she threatened she would, if I continued to stir up trouble. But, she hadn't yelled at me this morning or even last night. It had been days since my last spanking. She complained about us boys: we're into everything, rough, obnoxious, disgusting because we eat with our mouths open, can't aim when we pee and claimed the whole world as our bathroom after she found David and I peeing on her roses in the back yard. He grabbed the fly of my shorts and pulled the zipper down. I knew this was the end: I was the wolf's breakfast. She left me to the wolves to die alone. I was flat on my back as the coldness of the paper and vinyl crept through my spine. He rubbed my chest as he adjusted my little undies for a few minutes. Then he roughly ripped them down to my knees. I felt his breath as his head lowered to my body. This was it. He'll tear into me like the pack of wolves we watched on Wild Kingdom last Saturday: ripping and slicing my tender belly like that poor little fawn to dine on its insides like a bowl of spaghetti and tear my limbs from their sockets with ripping pops. I woke gasping for air. God, I hated this dream. I had dreams that seemed real about Christmas. I'd wake and scramble out of bed ready for Christmas Moring only to find the sun out and it's September the day before school starts. It was so odd: I could smell juniper and pine Mom used as garland around the house and feel the excitement in my stomach as I bound down the hall only to find all the windows open and the mucky rotting smell of low tide. It was just as real. I lay deep in thought. This time I woke before my blood and guts were strung across the room as the wolf devoured me alive while I screamed for Mama. His head went to my chest and his hand was definitely rubbing my stomach. It's weird how dreams shift points of view. Something told me to ignore the third person. I hoped I could remember that for next time. Because this time, I remembered his face before he morphed to the wolf. I knew this man and place from somewhere. When I was small, I hated bed time. Some nights ended with Mom spanking me with a wooded cooking spoon and slamming my bedroom door, leaving me shivering in bed. I'd fight sleep and wait them out or wake in the middle of the night for safety. It took all my courage to make the journey to my parent's bed. Tears streamed from by eyes, as I held my breath, since sobbing would give up my location to the prowling wolf I knew was loose in the house. Once under the covers, in sanctuary of their bed, I'd cry and describe the blinds and the wolf. Like all parents, Mom and Dad reassured me I was safe: they allowed me to sleep with them for about a month or two. One night, I climbed in bed with my parents, and Dad rolled away from Mom and whispered something. All I picked up for sure was Dad swearing: "God damn it, not again." And then nothing but mumbles between them. The next morning, Mom tore the blinds out of the utility room and replaced them with some cheap curtains. She took away my Disney, Peter and the Wolf, LP as she blamed my dreams on those things. She had a point. The LP was set to the famous classical music of Prokofiev's along with a growling wolf in the background. I loved the rush of fright as it felt like a million ants were trying to burrow their way out of my gut. I usually ended up under my bed covers or in the back of my closet, half way through side two, in tears. But, I had to play the damn thing over and over again with the same result. If anything, little kids are all about repetition of movies or any other media, even if it's for the thrill of fear. A few nights later, Mom paddled me for climbing in bed every night. My journey grew by a set of stairs and a darker shadow filled corridor to find my brother's bed. There were times when I stayed awake with a bladder on the verge of rupture waiting for daylight. I didn't like my back being at the door. Will helped by standing guard while I peed. I think he thought it was funny that I couldn't pee without a sentry after dark. I feared the wolf and the window more than anything Hollywood could dream up. Thank God, Will never turned me away or I'd become a bed wetter from fear. This morning, I found my body on auto pilot, padding down the cold floor to Will's room. I wore his old tan, cowboy, pajama bottoms and nothing more. They were getting to small, rode a few inches above my ankles and dug into my ass crack if I tossed and turned during the night. I liked them because they were once his. I'd never toss them or use them for my nocturnal hobby. I wanted to be grown up and not crawl in bed with him but I kind of needed him even though I wasn't afraid. I wanted his familiar comfort. I didn't care of my mother's warnings: Will was there when she wasn't. His arm came over my chest and he pulled me tight to him a few seconds after I climbed under the covers. "Buddy? Oh, shit... Are you okay? You still have that dream?" "No," I lied as something told me to hide this today. "Just remember doing this before you left... Kind of stupid, huh?" "No... I missed you to." He gave me a hug with his one arm. We could say or ask anything of each other in his bed: it was our safe place. "Dad said you'd be home for Christmas and stuff but you were only here for three days... It sucked. You and Greta went all over the place and... It sucked... Phone calls suck because Dad pulls the phone away before I can get a word in and he won't let me talk... privately. Letters are old news by the time they get here... I hate not having you at the rink... Not being able to see you skate... Not-" "I know. I know. It sucks the big one. It was too short. It's like Greta knows everyone I know. And she had this thing planned out before I got here. Believe me, it sucked. Most of the people were still the same. There were only a few I really wanted to see. Time just flew by. I didn't get more than one time on the ice with you and David and that's on me. So, I'm really, really sorry little dude. Okay?" I nodded. " Ummm. The thing is, that's not going to happen now. When you fuck up, you have to admit it. My time would be better spent with you and Sue not with a bunch of stoners and losers." He hugged me tight. "Dad was right about leaving. I miss this place. Everything moves fast over there. There's nothing but traffic, noise and people everywhere. And, and, It's... nice, to wake up like this. It's like it used to be when I was twelve and you started climbing in bed... Except you're not crying and you're about seventy pounds heavier... What's that old woman feeding you anyway?" He gave me a shove. I giggled as he had me by the shoulders and was jiggling me around. "Mom said I couldn't wake you last night." "Yeah... I was tired. I drove all the way from Casper. I only had a few hours of sleep. I probably have taken your head off." He reached down and tugged on my dick through my pjs. "Holy shit! You've got a trout where there was a minnow!" I turned and punched his shoulder. "Fuck off! Faggot! Where's Caper, anyway?" He ruffled my hair like I was a puppy and then gave me a couple of noogies as I threw some defensive slaps at his arms. "My little Jonny's a man! He's no little dude anymore! Soon, he won't even crawl in bed with me!" I giggled and gave him a shove, "Where's Casper?" I whined. I wanted was to change the subject. The truth was, I wanted to stay his little dude. "Holy shit! Were you boning some babe with Mr. Minnow? What are all these claw marks on your back from? Love scars! OHHHHHH JONNY!!!" He taunted in a girly voice as he lightly slapped the side of my face and then climbed over me to get out of bed. "Will! Knock it off! Wrestled some pussy and that's how he defended himself. I ended up kicking the shit out of him," I squealed with frustration. I kind of knew what he meant but wasn't 100% certain. "Casper is in Wyoming... You know your capitals? That's like 3rd grade stuff, little dude. It's the most dried up, piece of shit, place I've ever seen in my life." I sat up as he fumbled through his duffle bag at his dresser. My brother started sleeping in the buff when he was fifteen. He'd become thicker. He probably added twenty pounds of muscle to his body. His cock was thicker as well and a bit longer than mine. I figured, my body would be like his eventually. I wished we were taller people. If he were four inches taller and twenty five pounds heavier, he'd get drafted into the pros. "You didn't bring your girl?" "She went home... Just like me." "But, her families met you... We haven't met her." "Yeah, but they live a couple of hours from the U. We're over two thousand miles out. That's a bit much to ask of her. Not seeing her family and all... I can't afford airfare... Dad's to cheep." I was staring at the ceiling as he explained this but, somehow, it didn't seem fare. I wanted to know her to give my brother the "heads up" if she were a bitch or something. I swung my hands under my butt to elevate my lower body, on my elbows, so my legs could go vertical over my body, to do some bicycle exercises as we spoke. "Are you going to marry her?" "Ummmm... Maybe... She's really nice, you'd like her... She can cook... Not like that means much. But most girls don't-" He turned and watched my legs flying through the air and smiled as he slipped on gym shorts and tee shirt. He knew I stopped listening. "Do you guys... You know... Do it?" "You little pervert! Hey! Those are mine!" He pushed me over and grabbed my PJ bottoms with a yank half way down my butt. I grabbed the waist band and struggled to keep them from being pulled the rest of the way down. When I heard a tear, I let go. I liked those bottoms too much to ruin them in one of our battles. As he yanked them from my legs I flipped around on my butt because I figured he wanted to see my stuff. Fare is fare: I saw him. He stared at my body for a few seconds. "Wow Jon... You are a man... I didn't have any hair until way after thirteen... You're a few weeks out... Sorry... I thought we'd goof with the getting dressed thing... like when we were kids... I'm sor-" "What are you talking about? You've seen me naked almost every day of my life... Nothing's changed... Just some hairs and stuff." "Don't you remember how I'd cover up more? When I was like thirteen- fourteen? You don't- " "You're dorky," I giggled as I walked past him to get some clothes from my room. As I scooted down the hall, he beaned me on the back of my head with his PJ's. I turned and slipped them on and then ran to my room for an old gym shirt. If Mom saw Jan's finger nail cuts in my back, I'd be sunk for fighting. Will waited for me at the base of the stairs. "You took Greta's old room?" he asked, noticing I didn't go upstairs for clothes. "Had to get away from the evil, lower, middle, child," I smiled at our old inside joke. Our sisters were and are a pain in our asses. He didn't have to know it was because the whole house could hear my moans and squeaky springs as I rubbed one out. As we ate waffles with bacon cooked inside, grapefruit and Mom's hash browns made from left over baked potatoes with onion and red, bell, peppers (all my brothers favorites), it dawned on me that the only time we were truly a family was when Will was home: Sue became less of a bitch and Greta would come by later tonight for dinner otherwise she avoided my Mother like a leper. Years before he went East, we boys had hockey schedules that matched games and practices an hour or two apart. We'd wait and watch each other. It was cool because it was another set of supportive eyes that came without the judgment of a parent. Parents are all about "Don't be like this." A brother is all about "try this" and "fuck that guy" suggestions. We were oblivious of Greta and Sue doing all of their girly stuff. Both sets of kids always had a parent along for games and drop off and pick up. When we were all together, we always ate together. Breakfast and dinner was our family time. Even though there was sibling tension, I always thought we liked being together for these meals to share jokes and gossip about the neighbors. Most everything was over my head but I loved to listen and watch everyone's emotions as they shared a story. Will went to the U after I turned eleven. The next year, Greta married a month after she graduated early from high school. Five months later, my nephew was born. Sue started dating, that same year, and with her sports, she was never home for dinner. My parents were worried about retiring and keeping the house in the family. Their goal was to pay it off and save enough to live on plus enough for all taxes, maintenance of our house and so forth until us kids could fully establish ourselves to keep the house between us. The benefit wouldn't be for us but more for our children: A place where we could come together, later in life, to celebrate family. This is what my father's family had in Europe: A homestead in the middle of nowhere Norway. So, Mom went back to work as a receptionist at some medical plaza, when I started the seventh grade. They figured I could take care of myself for three hours after Mr. Nick dropped me off the bus. It got weird, when I'd have to make mac and cheese for myself because everyone was late or had other plans. It seemed I was never told what everyone else had in the works. All my sibs had Mom as a personal chef, chauffer, adviser, and personal assistant. I had limited Mom time and only an hour a day with Dad for homework help. I resented that I was abandoned as everything was getting weird with people, friends and all this crap with my body. "Wow... Coming up on thirteen! If you were a Jew, you'd be a man!" Will teased as he gave my shoulder a squeeze. "What do you think you're going to get?" I shrugged because I knew where this conversation was going. "Somebody should get him deodorant, soap, Listerine, a tooth brush, a roll of toilet paper and some Oder Eaters or foot spray... Something!" Sue suggested as she waived her hand in front of her nose. I sat there turning red. "No... How about a nice pink, sweater, with kitties and sparkles for hockey practice?" Mom added. "I think, ballet lessons since he enjoyed the Nutcracker so much this Christmas. He'd look good in tights and a tutu... Might even get a girlfriend that way," Dad added to the pile while pointing his greasy fork at my face. I stared into the butter melting on my waffle. "A razor... A nice razor cuz it starts to grow right here," Will pointed above his upper lip. My parents looked astonished that he didn't make a cut or suggest the world's worst gift. "And, a dozen condoms." "Will!" Mom gasped as Dad laughed his ass off. Sue and I looked at them blankly. I think Sue was shocked. "What's that?" I asked, completely baffled. "Never you mind, Jonny," Mom hissed. "See what you've done?" She added waiving her finger at Will. "Mom... He'll learn about it soon enough... Somebodies gonna have to teach him. Do you want another Grandchild so early in life? He's had eyes for Julie since he was seven! She's four doors down for Christ's sake! Do you remember when you caught them kissing behind the boat a few summers back?" I did the math of the conversation and became mortified not because of the kissing comment: that was her dumb idea and it was a slimy mess. We were eight and it was my very first kiss of somebody outside of my family although I was oblivious to why people would want to do such a thing on the lips. Condoms had to be about sex. What the hell was he thinking? "So you're that liberal with your talk at university? We don't want that talk here... Not now and not ever at this table!" Mom scolded as Dad became quiet and dug back into his meal. "So a condom is one of those birth control pill thingies? Guys take them too?" I asked more as a verbal conclusion than a question. "Jon! I'm warning you, drop it and forget it." My Mom hissed. "But Mom!" I whined with curiosity. We fell silent for a minute. "It's kinda like a catcher's glove for boy parts," Sue piped up with a huge smile on her face as she looked over at me. "Sue!" Mom screamed and Sue went into Dad's defense by going for her food. I glanced at Will and could see he was trying to hold back a laugh. For the rest of the meal, I tried to figure out why anyone would want a glove for his privates. Was it for cold Massachusetts winters? They didn't sell that kind of gear at REI or Eddie Bower. I didn't remember anything about this in that sex book I stole form the library. I had to get Chris to swipe one of Andy's Hustler magazines for a closer look at the ads in the back. There was stuff I never heard of back there. That had to be where the answer was hidden. We ate in silence for a while. Dad changed the subject and wanted to know everything about Will's team play. Will walked us through face off, left wing lock, and penalty kills on a piece of scrap paper which drove off the women. Will wasn't on the top line. He dreamed of playing in the Olympics but had given up once he got to the U and found that he was the third smallest player there. His skills were used as a penalty killer and third line winger. I felt for him because he was a top player around here. I guessed there was far more talent on the East Coast. Dad wanted Will to go with him on his rounds and to see the motel. I think Dad wanted him to run it, if the economy didn't improve, after he graduated. It was a feeling I had by Dad's tone of voice. After they left, I took another hour of sleep and then cleaned up. My thoughts kept going back to my dream and Jan. The two were linked, somehow. In the front of my mind was my treatment of Jan and the rage that practically popped my eyes out of their sockets. How badly I wanted to beat him or worse was so foreign to who I thought I was. The rage was pure. And, at the back of my mind that wolf's fangs ripping me apart as I screamed for Mama, while it ate me alive. The dream had changed: no guts. There was no way I could make it up to Jan. I rationalized that at least I was now clear of the Dennis situation. There was no way those people would ever contact me for anything ever again. Jan would make something safe up about me to piss the rest of his family off and the friendship just ends. That's the way of kids. It took a couple of hours to do my stupid chores and they still hadn't come back. Mom had left for her job at eight and Sue was laying in the sun, as usual. Girls are stupid. Sun bathing is just laziness in disguise. Men get tanned from working in the yard, kicking a ball around or paddling a boat. To lay in the sun is for lazy bastards. Only girls can get away with the "cosmetic" excuse. I decided to wash all the dead bugs off of Will's car and got the bucket and Turtle wax out of the garage. Dad flipped, when Will bought the Datsun. Dad would never buy a car with an engine less than 350 cubic inches and the thought of just four cylinders seemed prissy to him. He wanted Will to buy a monster American car like a Skylark or GTO. But, Will was right: gas prices went through the roof and the Japs make a better car even though they copy style from other makes. He got close to 25 miles a gallon where Dad's Electra, might get 10, due to his addiction to speed. The bugs where baked in and my arms hurt from scrubbing the windshield and nose of the Datsun. Thank God, his car wasn't as colossal as the Buicks or I'd given up half way through the hood. I did this because I wanted Will to know I loved him more than his sisters. Those cunts wouldn't dream of doing something for free. After washing Wills car, I did my calisthenics routine with greater intensity. After seeing Wills body this morning, I knew I could gain muscle mass. I wanted to be bigger than Will because I didn't want to lose my spot on defense. The thought of being some winger where I'd be pounded on by some angry ape of a defenseman wasn't appealing. I wanted to do the pounding. I figured Dad had Will for the day because they still weren't home: it was one o'clock so I had time to kill. My dick was crying for relief and I didn't want my hand. I slipped on my Nike's and figured I'd finish up by taking my run past Chris's place. With any luck, I'd catch him. When I passed his driveway, I heard their riding mower buzzing down the hill. My run would go long. I ran along Bay Road up to Homestead Cemetery. I stood where Dennis blew me and then ran through the grave stones like a slalom ski run. Billy's family must fuck like rabbits. There had to be something short of a hundred markers I dodged through before exiting the dead. As I ran back, I thought more about Dennis and Jan. That whole arrangement is wrong. I couldn't understand Jan. The thing he explained about seeing pictures of sex between men and boys seemed like a lie. Dishonest Dennis duped him: I was sure of it because I'd never herd of that anywhere and why would a kid be attracted to some hairy old dude??? Fucking sick! I wasn't justified in what I did. He would hate me for the rest of his life. It probably would be harder for me to accept then for him to wash his hand of me. My shame slowed me to a walk as I tried to search for a way to ask for forgiveness. Everything I thought of was hollow. My shame didn't make us even and I knew I'd need to confront him sooner rather than later. Chris was mowing close to the fence dropping down the hill as I closed in on his driveway. He was almost finished. I leaned against a fencepost and watched him robotically spin the mower around to come back up hill. He broke into a wide smile and laugh when he noticed my pose against the post. His head spun back and I knew he was trying to find his Dad, for safety sake. He pulled up about twenty feet from me and killed the mower. His smile was broad as his eyes sparkled at me. He raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his head and stretched his back against the seat exposing ribs and stomach muscles of his bare torso. This display was more about his pride, new responsibility, skill, and trust of his Dad to let him operate the mower. There is nothing more important to a boy than bragging rights of each baby step into maturity. "Wow... Your Dad let you on the Deer!" "Yeah! I never nicked up the Craftsman and today he let me... This thing flies! It's taken ten minutes less to mow all of this! Dad said I deserve extra free time this summer. Weird, huh?" "Yeah... What's up with that? Does that mean we can hang out more? You know, without David and the rest?" "I think so... It's weird. He's down on the dock changing the oil in the boat. We're going all the way to Blake Island for a salmon bake... He said we need time together. Weird." "That's cool!" "What ever. Ummm. How's Will? Did you get to see him last night?" "Nahhh, I had to wait. He'll be around for almost a month. He'll be here for my birthday! Get this, he's not one of the top players. He's like a specialty guy. I think it was hard for him to admit to Dad: like he's never going to be the best on the team." "Serious?" I nodded as Chris took that in and his smile dropped. I guess we both thought a lot of Will. "Oh... Yeah..." Chris began, "I was talking to Dad about Will coming home and stuff and asked him a bunch of stuff about going to college. He lived in the dorms at WSU, you know... Maybe, we could be, like roommates, when we go. You know: in the dorms or an apartment. Dad said it's a possibility-" "Yeah! We could! Why didn't I think of that? It's perfect. Will sent off requests but scouts came after him... Everywhere he applied they accepted him with all kinds of scholarships... But what if I get a scholarship to some college way in the middle of nowhere? Will's way better than me. My grades are better but that doesn't count till high school... I'd never make it to a school like his... In a big City or anything... I mean, that would suck for you. And then it would be a year or two before you'd get there unless I fail a bunch of classes," I laughed. "I don't care... You go for school not the place. That's what Dad said about WSU. It's like the only reason this little town in the middle of nowhere exists. The only trees are on campus otherwise it's like open fields of nothing." "That would be so sweet to go to the same place! Will was the only one from around here to go to his university. It's bad enough to walk across the street to Foster. I couldn't imagine going so far away... I guess we'll have to... At least I'd be there for your first day." "I guess... I can't wait to get out of here." "Will said he misses it here..." Chris shrugged. "What was Jan's deal anyway? He didn't even say "bye" last night." "I fucked up and said some stuff I shouldn't have." "Huh? What a baby. Like what?" "Chris. Leave it alone. " He sat up. "What are you talking about? How can it be that bad?" I closed the distance so I could speak in a low voice. Maybe it was because the damn dream came back something deep inside of me needed to confess. Chris was the closest thing in my life and the only person I could risk such a confession even if it pissed him off. "It's about Dennis. Dennis did some stuff to him... And me... Sex stuff. I told Jan that I didn't want anything to do with either of them because of it." Chris hopped off the mower and we walked down to the barn. This was a conversation you can't attempt on the side of the road. We both peaked at the dock to make sure his Dad was still busy. "So that's what all that was about at your house?" Chris asked as we crossed the threshold. "I guess. I don't know." He stared at me so I had to continue, "Dennis... He sucked me. I didn't want him to. He just kind of did it like he... I can't explain any of it... it weirded me out. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't move or talk. It was like slow motion. It was beyond embarrassing. He scared me... I can't explain... It was like being pantsed in front of the entire school and punched in the gut all at once... Like he had me and there wasn't a damn thing I could do. He told me he'd tell everyone I'm a fag... It was just fucked up because he was trying to get me to do it with him... He's fucking old... I have- He fucking knew." "Wait! He sucked you and you didn't want? Why not? I mean...Ka Pow! Bang!" he yelped as he pumped his hips, "Are you stupid? Who doesn't want that?" "Don't you get it?" I lowered my head in shame, "He didn't give me a choice. He either knew I fool around with guys or pegged me as a dumb kid he could fuck with," I peered up, "Somehow he figured me out." "Like he wants anyone to know he's one." "It's just... I want to do that with you and after all of this shit, only you," I was taking a stab at what I thought I felt. Honestly, I have no idea what was going on, "It's not about getting the feeling." Chris looked directly in my eyes gauging my every emotion. "You were right, I messed with Jon. We were doing stuff... Like, it started three or four months ago. It's not the same with you. I'm not just saying that. When he comes back... Fuck him." Chris wrapped his arms around me as my voice began to crack. I threw my arms around his shoulders as my mind cleared in honesty. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you when you asked... I couldn't." "I know." "And, Jan told me that Dennis messes with him but Jan likes it... Jan wanted to do stuff... I did stuff to him... I almost beat the shit out of him when he told me about Denis... He's a kid. I fucked up. He hates me now, and I don't blame him one bit." "I knew something was wrong... I don't like that kid. Fuck him! I don't care about him. I only went because you were all hyped up about it... You know, I wasn't that honest either." "What?" I asked astonished. "I... I kind of lied about wanting to fuck a girl... It's why I never kissed one and probably never will." I hugged him back even harder. I was a sweaty, stinking, mess and Chris didn't care: we held each other for a few minutes. My cock was pointing down when we embraced and when we broke apart Chris shoved his hand down the front of my shorts before I had opportunity to adjust my stiffy. I leaned in and gently kissed him as he played with my shaft. We broke the kiss. He knelt down in front of me and pulled my shorts down to my knees while he looked up into my eyes. His chest heaved and he swallowed hard as he gave me a little shove forcing me to lean against a crate behind me. Jon never reacted to me like this. Jon acted like sucking me was a chore: Chris wanted this. He ran his tongue around my foreskin before hovering above my cock with his tongue raking over my piss slit. He closed on me and slid down to the base of my junk, holding still for me to take in his smooth heat and dancing tongue. I closed my eyes as his head began to bob up and down. Chris wasn't teasing me today. My breathing sped as his slimy suction and motion built. I leaned down a bit to grab his shoulders as my hips began to dance with his motion. I heard a popping echo bounce in my skull before I felt the blow. Chris screamed as I watched him fly against the steel sided wall of the barn with the resonance of a car crash. My body went limp as he picked me up and threw me to the ground. He kicked me in the gut a few times and then grabbed my shirt to pull me up to his level as he walked me out the barn to turn and slam me against the exterior wall with a crash. "You are a demon come to take my son to away from me!" There was nothing for me to say as pain began to register all over my body and I gasped for breath from his kicks. "I should castrate you. I should kill you!" He pressed against me and brought a hand to my neck. I knew what he felt: power, conscience, rage, and fear. His hand squeezed around my neck and his ugly face came closer to get eye to eye. Then, his other hand came up so both could squeeze with all his might. I could hear myself gag and feel pressure build in my head. I remember my hands grasping his wrists as my vision faded with pops of red and black splotches. Then there was nothing. I couldn't stop coughing as I gasped for breath as my head throbbed with relief and I came too. I heard "swoosh-smack" as reality set finally set in. I made it to my feet and pulled up my shorts. There was gravel stuck to my body and some remained in the liner of my shorts as I pulled them up. I had no time to worry about comfort. I knew this was the worst thing that could ever happen to us. I peered around the door and into the barn. Chris's back was welted with red stripes as his father laid into him with everything he had: "Swoosh-smack" was the sound his belt made as he beat his son. Chris was silent and not moving. I think he passed out. ` I ran at him, as I took a page from a hockey drill coach taught us at the end of the season, and threw all my weight into my hit as his center of gravity had shifted to raise his hand to whip his son. The collision jarred the wind out of me as he went flying head first into the back wall. He quickly gained his feet as I stood staring at Chris. I could see his body heave with a breath as my body and mind entered that familiar numbness. His back was bleeding. I couldn't imagine his pain. I still can't figure out how the crushed gravel of the driveway came at me in slow motion. My chest smashed into it and then I could smell and taste the dust of my impact. Then he was carrying me. My shirt dug into my neck and I could feel he had me by my thigh. I watched his feet grind away the gravel, with each step, as he carried me up the drive. I was nothing more to him than a stray mutt he was about to drop kick off his property. The pavement came to me fast as my left shoulder took the brunt of impact with the road. I could feel my face burn from the friction of the asphalt as my body twisted around while I tumbled. He was screaming at me but my mind was so far away all I could register was "You will be damned to hell... Never come back, if you want to live." His finger jabbed into my chest with painful stabs that broke into my reality as he continued screaming at me. He covered my face with his big hand and shoved me back against the pavement. "No more! No more of YOU!" I heard him scream as I felt and heard a couple of punches smash into my face. I'd been in fights and been hit by kids way bigger than me. Nothing snapped my head and made the reverberating pop in my skull as an adult fist slamming my face. He turned and stormed down his driveway as I sat there groggy with fear. Stumbling to my feet, I could see Chris propped up against the barn door looking for me. Our eyes met just as his father closed in on him. His life left him when his father grabbed his arm. There was no fear in his expression but complete submission and acceptance of his fate. I watched him blank me out of his existence as pain overcame his world. It drained me. Chris was lost. I collapsed back to the pavement. I watched as he yanked his son's arm with every alternating step. Chris screamed in pain midway to the house, and his father's other hand went to Chris's throat as he raised Chris off the ground to scream something at him. With his hand wrapped around his throat, he walked his son behind the apple trees out of site. A chill went up and down my spine as I understood what could happen. I got to my feet and attempted to run. My hips were sore, my neck felt kinked and throbbed with aching pain. I could feel blood on my shoulder coagulate and bond to my shirt. It took a few yards before I could get cadence of a jog and a few more before I was at decent speed. I was a quarter of the way over the bridge when a car rounded to come down the hill to cross. The last thing I needed was to take time to explain my condition. The tide was high so I simply jumped over the edge falling twenty five feet into the Sound below. To the people in the oncoming car, I was just another goofy kid screwing off in the midst of a summer prank. The car didn't even hit the brakes as it sped above me. I surfaced and clung to one of the piers for a few seconds before I tore my shirt, shoes, and socks off to free me to swim the few hundred yards to our beach. None of those clothes meant a damn thing to me. Nothing meant anything other than Chris. Sue didn't notice as I sprinted up to the house. She was flat on her back with her eye blinders on trying to tan while blasting some crappy Tom Petty music from her cassette player: lazy bitch lounging up on the sun deck. I went straight to the basement phone and dialed zero. "Operator" "Please connect me to the Sheriff... This is an emergency." I croaked as I became aware my throat was constricted and on fire to the point of barely being audible. "How old are you and why are you trying to disguise your voice, young man?" she demanded. "Mam, please! My friend is being... CONNECT ME NOW!" I tried to yell but it came out as rasps. "Kitsap County Sher-" "Sir please help me... Please." I broke into tears. I explained that my best friend was being beaten to death by his father. "Oh, my God... "the operator sighed and excused herself from the call after she quickly explained she was holding the line in case the call was prank. I told the Sheriff my story, less the sex stuff, and hung up, after giving him Chris and my addresses. I had no time to think, just react. Jumping in the shower was hard because I had to look at my wounds in the mirror. My face was scraped up on the left side with road rash and my shoulder was bloody. Pink bruises were forming on my neck and, well, everywhere. I only stayed in the shower long enough to wash my wounds. I needed every spare second. Afterward, I sat naked on my bed to quickly process my options. There was no time to cry and what good would it do? The cops would be here in a few minutes: that's certain. I had to give them my address or I knew they wouldn't respond. If the State Patrol were around, they'd already be here. There were only a couple of Sheriff's cars for the entire county so it would be a while even after my five minute wash up. The only reasonable plan was to find David. He'd help me with a real plan, other than running away, which was the only thing I could come up with. All I knew was I couldn't confess what we were doing to anyone. I threw on a light tee shirt, a button down Oxford, and some Levis. I dug through my closet for a light, auto race, jacket my Dad gave me a year ago but I never wore. And then I stuffed a couple of pairs of socks and underwear in the jacket's pockets. If I ran away, I wasn't going to make a stupid mistake like a backpack or wear my favorite clothes. Nothing could give a hint that I'm a runaway. As I reached under my book shelf to retrieve my stash of cash and my savings pass book, the phone rang, the music stopped, and Sue's feet pounded the floor above me as she came off the sun deck. "Hello... Mr. Aflotti? Oh, hey!..... No sir, both of my parents are out until five thirty or six." Pause... "Jon? I don't know. I haven't seen him in a couple of hours." Pause..."I'll check... JOOOOOONNNN!" She screamed. Pause. "He's not here... Ummmm... Are you okay Mr. Aflotti?" Long pause..."I'll call my Mom for you. What's your number so she can call you back?" I was sunk. Then I realized, if Sue was on the phone with Mom, it was time to escape out the back and make my way to David's. As I snuck through our neighbor's yards, I could hear a lone siren speeding up Bay Drive. Fear whirlepooled and churned in the pit of my gut. Chris could be dead. I'd known nothing of death other than a gold fish and a dog: none of which I'd witnessed other than others telling me the details long after the event. The idea of permanence of death had never occurred to me until I heard that siren. I had to keep moving. I had to push everything aside and keep moving. After I cleared the point that jetted out to block the view of my path from our house, I dropped down to the beach. Pain and soreness were stealing my energy now. A thought crossed my mind that if I went to David's, that's the first place any moron would search. I would have no options and I was tired of everyone making decisions for me. The more I thought about it, this was my deal. It was between me and Chris. Chris would never tell. The truth was I knew my world was just nuked due to my stupidity. How would I explain any of this to my family? Hockey gone: Everything gone. What was the difference now? Nobody would want to be around me anymore: I'm a freak. My plan shifted and I was now checking doors and windows of the seven cabins that lay between David's and my house. All had crawl spaces, and garden sheds that were easily accessible but I knew better than to use those as hiding places. If I could get in there, then others could as well. I wasn't playing hide and seek. I found an unfinished "A frame" with a lever lock window, installed upside down, on the upper frame. I hobbled up the driveway to find the entry blocked by a lock and chain. If the owner's weren't here for the Fourth, they wouldn't be here for the weekend, I reasoned. A piece of kindling was all that was needed to break in. We had the same window locks on our house. Will taught me to break in our house after he had accidently locked us out during one of our more rambunctious games: he locked me out, taunted me, from inside by opening the door a crack and making a goofy face, I gave him the finer, he gave chase and the door shut behind him with the button in the lock position. Our utility room window was installed in the same manor as this house. I can't take credit for being a break in artist: I'm not that smart. My head was on a swivel hoping my "tap, tap, taps" didn't draw anyone's attention. Tapping the frame sent vibrations through the lever lock. The weight of the lever is greater than the lock pin on the opposite end that is secured by a hole drilled in the window header. So, a little vibration, caused by tapping, finding the lightest friction point of the lock pin hole, allows gravity to do its job and the lever releases the lock. When I finally figured out the right pressure to apply to the frame rail to free the lever lock, it lowered after a few forceful blows. I raised the window and crawled through with a few grunts. My back stiffened and bent to the left as I stood. It was one maneuver to many on a part of my body that had experienced too much abuse today. After shutting and locking the window behind me, I realized this cabin was a complete shit hole. I stood surrounded by open stud walls of a bedroom. I could see all of the exterior walls from where I stood because there was no dry wall or even insulation: the place was unfinished. A couple of army cots and cheap plastic lawn furniture were strewn about but nothing of any value. There were a few blankets covering the walls of the bathroom but they didn't cover a few feet from the floor and I could see the base of the toilet and sink beyond. Some old 50's era steel cabinets lined the kitchen that included a free standing laundry sink. I looked above me to where there should be a loft and there was open joist with no deck with the exception of a few sheets of plywood crammed to a corner of one end. There wasn't much hiding cover in this place as anyone had full view from the bay windows of the entire house. I sat there for a minute trying to find a solution and realized this is the perfect hiding place. If I were a cop, I'd look through the window and see open clear space except there was no way I could see above to the unfinished mezzanine from the outside of the house. Those sheets of plywood at the far corner were hidden from view. Since the stairs weren't built, I'd have to climb up some blocking, on the stud wall to gain access. But first, I'd have to ensure my basic needs. I rummaged through the kitchen and found a couple Tupperware pitchers with tight lids, an unopened box of Shredded Wheat cereal, a few cans of chili, some instant oat meal packets and a couple Rainier beers. Whoever these people were, they didn't leave much food behind. Luckily, the water was on which led me to believe they would come back sometime this summer or their water lines would freeze in the winter. This hiding place would only work for a few days. I filled the pitchers and began hauling my loot up to the plywood deck. Out on the deck, there were a couple of lounge chairs and I quickly ventured out to grab a cushion for my bed. I couldn't find a blanket so I decided to remove the make shift enclosure around the bathroom and tossed all four of them up to my fort. I went back to the kitchen and found individual coffee cans that stored flour, sugar, pancake mix and some other crap I couldn't figure out. I needed these cans and dumped the contents in the garbage beside the laundry sink. These became my chamber pots. After a little more thought, I went to the bathroom and swiped the toilet paper roll off the dispenser and then rummaged through the medicine cabinet but only found a half bottle of aspirin, tooth paste, and unopened bars of soap. I was hoping for a first aid kit with some antiseptic for my shoulder and face. It was a painful climb as my mind calmed and my body became tuned to the damage that occurred. My plan was not to leave my loft for a day or two: at least not in the day time. I figured anyone coming down here at night would need a flashlight and I'd see that before I could hear them. I stripped naked for the simple reason that there would be no way for me to clean my clothes. I'd have to make do with what was on my back. Washing clothes and finding a place to dry them where no one would notice was out of the question. Since there wasn't a tub in the bathroom, I could easily bathe by standing in the laundry sink using a pitcher to wet myself. Once I had everything organized I laid face down on the cushion so air could get to the cuts on my shoulder and back. And, this seemed the most comfortable for my neck and back for now. The second my brain disengaged from my tasks, I cried. It lasted for what seemed to me hours. I was now convinced the bastard killed Chris. I stopped thinking about myself. My memory was of little Chris the first day we met. His huge brown eyes following every move David and I made: How he hung on our every word, how he played his heart out to keep up and then my mind wandered to our latest adventures: how I came to love him rather than Jon. I know I loved him even at this young age. Our sex play was secondary: he taught me the difference between love and lust. I loved Chris because we really knew each other and now, it was physical. He didn't belong with that piece of shit father of his. He belonged with me. It was that simple and I went and killed him. I covered myself with a blanket, after the sun went down, and forced myself to stay awake. I had to sleep during the day, if I decided to make a break for it, it would be easier under the cover of dark. It was the longest night of my life, being alone with all of that mental bullshit, sadness, mourning, guilt, shame, loathing, pity and ache of physical wounds. However, I bet I didn't make it past eleven thirty. Depression set in and sleep took over. The next morning, my neck, back and shoulder were locked in throbbing pain. I was miserable and it hurt too much to move. I didn't feel this bad after the initial beating. Crying wasn't an option anymore since I figured I deserved every bit of what I got. I ate three aspirin every few hours. Sinking in and out of sleep, I blamed myself for every event of the last four months. Sex didn't seem worth any of this. Since that first hair sprouted over my junk, everything in life seemed like it turned to shit: everything got more complicated. A demon. Mr. Aflotti was right. My mind was warped to crave my own sex and, even worse, his son. I lied to everyone about my true nature. I corrupted Jon into my perversion. I did the same to Chris. How did I expect it to end? What was I thinking? Boys don't do that! I awoke sometime around three in the afternoon to what I assumed were neighbors or cops knocking at the door. I didn't budge or even jump with the blast of adrenalin. It was weird that people only cared when I was missing otherwise, I was just some kid. That thought pushed me over the edge and I reached the conclusion that running was my only option. My contempt for adults grew. I don't remember eating the first day. When I woke, during the evening of the second day, the pain of my back had spread into my hips. My neck seemed locked in place as my shoulder ached worse than my hunger. I knew if I didn't eat, my body wouldn't heal. That's what coach said about post work out, recovering from injury or illness. Cold chili, from the can, and a packet of dry oatmeal was hard to swallow down, but I had to do it and did. My thoughts were overwhelmed with guilt of Chris: his brown eyes as they drained when his father grabbed his arm. I think he saw me as a savior: the guy who could pry him from his shit family. And, I let him down by not defending him: by not making a stand or going back to help or free him as his father dragged him to his house. I think I killed him by not following through. Why didn't I just start screaming? I'm a kid... Then I realized, how my throat and voice were all messed up. I could have done more. I know I could have done more. Something told me that what we shared came with a price but this? God is a total prick. Seriously and honestly, I prayed for him. Prayer was something I hadn't done in a few years. I never took prayer seriously since the age of nine when Will told me it was a load of crap, "You really think God's gonna drop everything because little Jonny has a problem convincing Mom and Dad to buy a Speed Racer action figure with Racer X's bonus car or David called you a puss?" This made sense. Dad told me, "God gave you a brain, use it! He's not there to rescue you from a sinking ship! If there's a bucket, pick it up and start bailing! It's your life to save! It's your life to live! God gave you the tools and rule book..." My prayers were for his sole. I wanted God to punish me in any way he felt. I was hoping for death in exchange for Chris's wellbeing. I hoped for God to set back time before Chris ever met me. I wanted to be still born. Chris didn't deserve what I witnessed. My prayers became like a monks chant and I fell back asleep. To be honest, I don't know how many days I slept away. My body hurt so much and my mind dreamt of heaven, hell, Chris, and my parent's. I'd wake to drink or piss but time seemed not relevant. If there were a God, he'd fucking kill me or heal me now. I became an atheist. I realized God really doesn't give a shit about us. Will and Dad were right. How in the hell could God create someone like me? It didn't make any sense that I could do something to cause this much damage to my family, friends and kill my Chris. Either Mr. Aflotti was right or there was no God. I couldn't spit fire or piss lava so I wasn't a demon. Why would God create me, if he existed? One night, I woke to "Tap... Tap, tap tap..." I knew it was my brother. "Tap, Tap, Tap". This went on for ten minutes. Once he was inside, he opened the front door for Greta. I stayed hidden crammed to the back corner of the plywood at the pinch of the roofs merge with the loft floor as the moon was filtered out by some clouds: it was pitch dark with the exception of random house lights reflections from across the bay. It was eleven or so. I figured my brother knew I'd only move at night since he's the one who sat through the "Great Escape" with me every time it was on TV. We both concluded that most of the POW's were caught because they made their moves during the day. And, more importantly, the escaped did the expected. We came up with dozens of better ways to beat a German Shepard! He was trying to find my nest or run into me as I was on the move. "I told you, there's no place to hide... We could see that from the window yesterday." My stomach sank when Greta said this as I didn't hear or see them snooping. "I wanted to get a look at the cabinets and behind them. I was thinking the little shit could hide out of sight... Behind them or something. Or even in them," he said slamming doors open and shut. "It's just building material and cheap used crap. Let's go home. We'll tell Dad this is the last time we're walking the beach... The kid's in Seattle... We all know that." "It was a shot. There's no way he'd hide outside. If it rained he'd be screwed. He's too smart for that. I'm telling you he's within a few miles, if not right under our noses... He'll let the chase get ahead of him... I know him." "He's twelve... I doubt he'd think that far ahead." "I guess," "I guess? Will, if he hitched it and jumped the first, outgoing, ferry, he's probably in Canada by now." "He ran... No question... He probably freak out. Watching some guy beat his kid half to death... I'm telling you there is no way he hit the road running. He's scared so he'll lamb it and figure it out. He's fucked up and scared is all." "Sure...Sure." She agreed as though talking with a mental patient. "Here's what I can't figure: Chris just did nothing and Aflotti beat the shit out of him for no reason. Did he steal something? Tell his mom off? I mean what an asshole but that doesn't explain any of where Jon is and why all of this happened." "He didn't deserve that," they sat in silence for a few minutes. "This will take your mind off of shit, look what I have" "Shit, light it up!" A few minutes later, I could smell burnt tea as my siblings sucked in and coughed, as they inhaled the joint. I didn't know they smoked dope. I promised I'd never touch it. "You know he's fucking smart... Right?" "He's a dopey little punk," Greta giggled. "No. Seriously. I know that kid like he's my own. He will out maneuver us, if we think the obvious. Seattle? Bullshit. He's on the Island or just across the bay in the woods camped out." "Do you remember when Sue convinced him dog food was tasty because Scraps scarfed it down?" They laughed. "The look on his face when he crunched on kibble! IQ points my ass!" Greta laughed. "He was four! That has nothing to do with it. He believed anything you two told him... Remember? You ruined it! Now he won't believe anything you girls say!" Will giggled. I wanted to toss a coffee can full of piss at them. "So, you're saying we're after an egg head with some muscles... He's not around here. Why would anyone stay this close to home?" "It's about frustrating the pursuit... Like a fox double backing and running through a stream. The hounds end up jumping from point to point in front of you, after they've lost the scent, and your job becomes avoiding where the barking is up trail. See?" Will explained. "Yeah but, he didn't take his bike, no boats are missing, it didn't look like he packed a bag. What's he doing for food? Where's he gone? Do you think... Do you think Aflotti... Could he have?" "The cops said not a chance on what they knew. There wasn't enough time for him to do that. He ran away... Nothing more. Jon called from our house and Aflotti called our place looking for Jon... The time line doesn't work for that prick to get to him." "Yeah, but... What if the cops fucked up the time line between phone calls? He could be freaked out and hiding but it's been four days." "Greta, shut up. I don't want to think about it... It still bothers me. How Aflotti snapped like that. Chris is so fucked up he won't be out of Marry Bridge for weeks." "He's such a quiet, polite, little kid... He's bashful. ... He's one of the only kids Jon has brought over that's not a complete pain in the ass... There's no reason for it." "They were special friends." Will half whispered. There was silence for a minute. "My brother was ... Doing stuff... With another boy?" Greta asked. "You have to keep your mouth shut... Even Sue and Mom don't know... Nobody needs to know until Dad and Jon say so... If ever... Or even if it's true. Dad told me this morning." I wanted to scream as the words spilled from Will's lips. "The cops ran it by Dad because Aflotti was trying to use it as an excuse for beating Chris. Like that would give a guy license. They wanted to know if our parents had ever seen them... You know? Doing anything... Seriously. Could you imagine what would happen to that kid... if this gets out: Both of them? I mean, what if Aflotti is grasping for straws... Attempting to save his ass at the expense of my brother... And his own kid? Fucking dick!" "Jon? I've never met one before... My baby brother's one... Are you serious? My macho little hockey brother is a fairy?" "He's my brother no matter what. And, we really don't know... Who cares anyway?" "Oh yeah... That's so sweet coming from the guy who slept with him over the past couple of years." "Greta... He was scared. Can you blame him? That's unfair and you know it. He's-" "I know... a joke. Sorry," She tried with a nervous laugh. "No you don't... He was like four or five... You had to see it. He walked form his bed to mine in total darkness. He was shaking so bad his teeth were chattering... Like he dove into ice water or something... He scared me. After he got in bed, he held on to me and cried for almost the whole damn night. Mom spanked him the night before... He was freaked... He was just a little kid. Whatever had him freaked never left him... For a while, I thought it had grown into habit. He'd come to me in the middle of the night with this blank look on his face that I recognized as his seriously freaked out look. As he got older, it wasn't daily or even weekly. He'd just show up at random times. I think Mom did a number on him since he kept showing up till a few months before I left the house... We never! How could you even think that? That was a fucked up attempt at humor... If that's really what it was." "Cool it... Sorry... Is that what I have to look forward to with Tyler?" "You'd never see that from one of your kids... You're not Mom. " "Hope not. It's weird how kids see the world and simply outgrow it or grow into it. You really don't want to tell me why he was doing that... I know you know." "Yeah, just look at it this way: we all had that kind of thing at one time or another. It took him a little longer than most to adjust. We all have bones buried somewhere." "I kind of knew... He was... You know." My heart stopped as Greta geared up, "He always liked the blonds: Bo Duke, Oliver on the Brady's, Hutch and not Starsky, Paul Newman, Steve MeQueen See the pattern?" "Very cute... Could you hold the sarcasm for even a second?" "What? He never talked about Daisy Duke, Lavern or Shirley, which of Charley's Angels he liked and I think he preferred Chachi over Joanie. He never even questioned if Mork was bopping Mindy." "Okay... You may have a point but he's a kid. Even if he messed around with Chris... He's a kid! They do stuff like that. It doesn't mean a damn thing." "Sure. I never did stuff like that... Did you?" "Past `Show Me' games: No." "Me too... What?" "Dad didn't say what they were doing. Just that it was sex. I couldn't bring myself to ask him more. It might not be what we think. I think Dad... I think he is shamed not by... I think he's blaming himself. I've never seen him like that. Jon needs to come home or Dad will go nuts." "Surprised he didn't blame me and Sue for putting him in dresses when we were kids... He made a sweet baby sister you know!? What?" "Nothing..." Then Will piped up, "I can't believe you're being such an idiot right now... If we don't find him, I'm not going back. He's my kid too. Remember when I started driving and Mom stopped going to his games... Dad said she rarely drives him to practice. David's parents have taken it up. Dad shows up to the weekend games. She's turned her back on him... He doesn't deserve that... She's a bitch." "Will! She has Sue. What's she supposed to do? Skip out on her? She does the best she can and she wanted to go back to work... She's entitled to that." "She didn't show for playoffs. Even the Carlson's showed for that. Jon's letter only mentioned Dad and David's parents." "She's not doing it on purpose. I'm glad I never played sports as serious as you guys. I was happy being a spectator: warming the bench." "It's important at his age... It's just that he's gone... I guess I'm looking for somebody else to blame." There was silence for a couple of minutes. "Did you see the picture of Collin and Jon with the trophy? I have it in a scrap book for Tyler. I can't wait for him to skate. I was thinking about Jon teaching him, like you did. Only, he might be too old to care about Tyler in three years. He'll be practically driving." "Maybe. You never know. I think he'd do it. He likes that kind of stuff. He'll be a coach one day... For sure." I held my breath as they continued to talk about places I'd hide and stupid shit I did as a kid. The smart ass remarks mixed with the warmer feelings did nothing to me. My mind was made. I couldn't be here anymore: I wanted freedom, respect and Chris! As they continued their conversation, I waited for Will to notice the plywood on the loft, but he never did since they never turned on their flash lights. Will didn't want to give up his position. I knew Will wanted to stay here till morning. I figured when he noticed the window lock, he put it together that I might hide here. If they hadn't lit up that joint, Will would notice the tacks that once held the blankets around the bathroom, the missing cushion, missing toilet paper roll, and the flour dumped in the trash. He'd put the rest together in no time and looked up to see my perch. The dope slowed his mind. He locked the window and the door behind him as they left an hour later. I would make sure I didn't move anything within view of a window and figured that would keep him from my discovery for a little longer. After they left, I ate three more aspirin as it sunk in where Chris was: Tacoma. Most kids ended up at Children's Hospital, in Seattle, for anything more than the flu, in my neighborhood. The hospital in Bremerton is kind of a shit hole since there wasn't much to Bremerton other than a couple of Navy Bases. Even though it was good news, tears started to roll again as I couldn't imagine the kind of pain he was enduring and that I was the cause. All my efforts were now focused back on Chris. I had to see him. This was an obvious move, I knew the possibility of being caught, when I stepped foot in the hospital. I had to do this for him and me. For all I knew, Chris would be banned from my life. In fact I betted that would be our reality and therefore, even if it were only five minutes, to tell him I was sorry and to blame for everything. I had to fool Will: get him off my scent. He knew I was hiding in one of these cabins or the woods across the bay. My break would need to be in the earliest hours of the morning under cover of dark. I would tread daylight for food in the late morning. Most people would leave for daily activities or work so a quick break in is simple since most doors are unlocked in my neighborhood. My skin was crawling with imaginary lice as Greta and Will's conversation gave light to everything. I sat there, itching and cold with the filth crawling over my body. For the first time, I felt sore but better: recovering due to my new knowledge of Chris's life. I fell back asleep before the sun came up and waited until I was sure the sun was high before attempting to climb down the wall. I tossed my clothes, utensils, and the pitchers over the side. As I lowered my legs over the edge, I felt my back and neck snap with a jab of pain. But, it wasn't like the first few days, it was more of an ache once it settled in and not paralyzing. Once down, I would never go back up there. I figured I'd just aggravate my back. So, I left my bed and waste for the poor vacationers. This is the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to empty and dispose of my piss and shit. I knew, eventually, the lids would pop off due to fermentation and the whole place would smell like an open sewer. It will be a major source of friction, if I ever returned home. Bathing in the laundry sink was now out of the question. With my luck, Will would come knocking. I grabbed three beers, pitchers and my clothes in a couple of garbage bags I found in the kitchen. I went back to the bathroom to steal some soap and caught my image in the mirror. Mr. Aflotti had messed me up: black eye, blue and greenish bruises around my neck, scrapes on my face, a huge scab on my left shoulder and multiple potato sized bruises on my abdomen and back. It looked painful but physically I felt way better now. If I tried to turn my neck quickly or too far to the left, a slicing pain shot up and down my back. I felt I could handle this: I had to. I walked, naked, through the back yards of the deserted cabins to one that had a garden shed that was surrounded by a hedge. David and I played here when we were little kids. This place was our make believe castle. I bathed using a garden hose: only turning it on to wet and rinse so that nobody would know I was here. Once the sun dried my skin, I slipped my clothes on and headed for David's.