Date: Thu, 25 Jun 2009 23:18:29 EDT
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: Castaway Hotel: Grand Reopening Chapter 1-2

Castaway Hotel -- Grand Reopening by BW
Copyright 2009 by billwstories
Chapter 1- How It All Began.

**Author's Note:** Please read the disclaimer in Chapter 00 before you read
this.

I guess I should begin by telling you about how I came to run the 'Castaway
Hotel,' and the best way to do that would be to start when I was the same
age as those I was about to help.  My name is Josh Currie, and although my
early years were happy and pretty uneventful, I had a fairly rough
adolescence.  You see, when I reached puberty and my sexual urges began to
manifest themselves, I became very confused.  I didn't understand why I was
not thinking and acting like others of my gender.  Why was I drawn more
toward guys than girls?  It's not like I chose to do that, but it seemed to
be who I was and what I was supposed to do.  It was as if I had no say in
the matter.  As I grew older, I tried to hide and suppress these urges,
because it seemed like everyone else, including my family, thought it was
wrong.  This was a very trying time for me and I became extremely
conflicted.

With practice, I became fairly good at deceiving others about my hidden
desires and fumbled my way through many encounters with females.  Although
I would never claim to be popular or even considered among the elite of my
high school class, I did find a way to hold my own and my secret was never
discovered.  After years of dating, throughout high school and college, I
even managed to fake my way through several intimate contacts.  I had now
done all of the things a normal male would do with a female, even though it
might not have been for the same reasons or in the same frame of mind.
During my first attempt at intercourse, my penis wouldn't respond, but I
knew I had to solve this problem quickly or the rumors would begin to fly.
Immediately, I began to focus mentally on a male acquaintance of mine,
someone whom I'd secretly been attracted to and had seen naked in the
showers.  With his image fixed in my mind, I was able to get an erection
and perform successfully, but no one knew about my fantasizing -- except
for me.  I did feel guilty about the deception, but my partner had no idea
that she wasn't the center of my attention, so that became a pattern for my
future exploits.

I eventually got married to a wonderful young woman, whom I met shortly
after taking my first professional job.  As much as I liked and cared about
her, especially as a friend, I was never truly 'in love' with her, but
proposing seemed like the right thing to do at the time.  She wanted to get
married and I knew it would take the pressure away from hiding my true
identity and be very helpful in pursuing my career as an educator.  From
the start, I had to use the same trick when making love to her, and over
time I honed my technique of having sex with her while thinking of a male
counterpart.  In a little over a year after exchanging our nuptials, we
began having children.  To be more accurate, my wife had them, and we
settled into a so-called normal life.  This was a happy time for me, from
the day my first child was born and then being an active part of each of
their lives as they matured, but it wasn't perfect.  There was always a
part of me that felt empty and unfulfilled, and no matter what I did or how
many years passed, this feeling never left me.

Over time, my children grew up, went off to school and eventually moved
away, to begin pursuing their own dreams.  That was only the first set of
events that set me into a downward spiral.

My wife and I were alone after that, but unfortunately she passed away
several months ago, in February, and I've been rattling around in this big
old farmhouse in which we had raised our children.  I hated to sell our
home, because I always loved the place and it held so many memories for me.
No matter where I looked, I would find a reminder of some cherished event
from my past.  For example, being in the family room would jog my memory
about all of the slumber parties my children held there with their friends.
This was because they always seemed to end up in that room, watching the
television or playing games, before they fell asleep.  The rec room made me
think about the hours the kids and I spent playing ping-pong, pool, board
games, or later - on the computer.

When looking out at the yard, I would be flooded with visions of the
children playing with our collection of pets, the boys riding their dirt
bikes or the girls on their bicycles or the many times they played tag,
hide-and-go-seek or rode their sleds over the snow and down our small hill.
Looking at the lawn would also remind me of the countless number of
children who came here to play with mine and the cookouts we were so fond
of holding for our extended family, friends and neighbors.  Finally, there
were the woods, where I took the boys hunting, the whole family went hiking
or held camp-outs for the children.  It was also where I went to find
solitude, when I was troubled or needed some time alone.  No, I just
couldn't sell it!  No matter how empty the house seemed or how underused it
was, there was just no way I could ever give this place up.

At 47, I had lived totally alone for quite a few months and was now
beginning to wallow in the pangs of loneliness, which this large home only
seemed to magnify for me.  The house had a total of twelve rooms, which
included six or seven bedrooms, depending on how you wished to count them,
as I am currently using the old master bedroom on the first floor as an
office.  In addition to the bedrooms, there is a kitchen, dining room,
living room, family room, rec room, plus three full baths, and the entire
place seemed to long for the laughter and life that only a family could
bring to it.

One of my friends suggested I rent out some of the rooms or open a 'Bed and
Breakfast' to help rid me of this problem.  He even pushed it a step
further by adding the lure of the extra money I could make on the side.
Although I was doing fine financially, I still considered his suggestion,
until another friend gave me an alternative idea.  She worked for the
Department of Social Services and informed me that there was a tremendous
shortage of good foster homes in our area.  Even though I was a widower and
lived alone, she suggested I could put some of those empty bedrooms to use
by taking in a child or children who desperately needed a home.  She
thought that after raising four children of my own and being the principal
of the middle school, I had the experience to handle the challenge.  I
thanked her for her idea and told her I would consider it, but felt this
would be more of a commitment than I wanted to make.

I didn't want to decide hastily, so I took my time.  I considered all of
the alternatives and kicked the various ideas around in my mind for several
weeks before I finally made my decision.  After weighing all the pros and
cons about giving strangers access to my home, one thought kept popping
into my head.  Wouldn't it be nice to hear a child's laughter echo through
this place again?  After many internal debates and numerous sleepless
nights, I finally came to a determination.  I would take in foster
children.

Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I apprised my friend of my
decision and told her I would accept any child who needed my help, but I
did have one condition.  I thought it might be best, or safer for me
personally, if I only accepted boys.  She agreed with my logic, but I did
not let it end there.  I went on to tell her that I'd even decided that
maybe I should specifically take in gay or bi boys, although I wouldn't
turn away others.  She gave a puzzled reaction to this comment, so I
thought it would be best if I explained my suggestion in more detail.  I
informed her that through my job I had witnessed how tough life can be for
boys with those particular sexual orientations and felt I could make the
greatest impact by trying to assist them.

I stopped short of telling her about my deep, dark, little secret - that I
also fit into one of those groups and had actually suppressed my feelings
and urges throughout my entire adult life.  My main driving force for doing
this was simple.  Knowing what I had gone through, I wanted to make it
possible for other young males to avoid the mental anguish I had endured,
by denying my true self.  Sure, I still have to admit that I've had a good
life, a wonderful wife, terrific children and a fulfilling career, but no
matter how good it all was, this stinging emptiness still gnawed inside of
me.  For years, I've had to live with that void, buried deep within the
dark recesses of my soul, which I knew could only be filled by man-to-man
love.  I longed to act upon this need, but never allowed myself the
pleasure, because of what it might do to my family or due to the fear I
retained about jeopardizing my career.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking and you're wrong.  I'm not taking
boys in to live with me just so I can gratify my own sexual needs.  That is
certainly not the case.  I want them here so I can help them understand
their feelings and learn how to cope in a world that vilifies and derides
those lifestyles.  I want to help them understand they don't have to hide
or suppress their feelings, but with some discretion, they could enjoy a
loving relationship with another male, something I have always longed to
do.  By accomplishing this, I hoped to not only help them, but also prayed
it will allow me to purge some of the regrets I've endured about my own
life.  This might be the only chance I will ever get to enjoy a catharsis
of this nature and let go of the feelings of remorse I've harbored about
never letting myself become the person I truly am inside.

After agreeing to do this, I discovered it was now too late to begin the
process and nothing would be started until after the holidays.  Sally
explained that the state would not process applications during that time
span, because of all the special functions they were performing and due to
all of the year-end paperwork and reports that needed to be completed.
Therefore, the process didn't even begin until mid-January and it took
several more weeks after that until I was actually certified by the state.
It was nearly the first week in April before I finally received a call at
work from my friend, Sally, telling me I had been approved.  She also told
me she already had a young boy she would like for me to consider taking in.
He was twelve years old, hyperactive and all alone.  His mother had been a
drug addict and died from an overdose a few months previously.  She had no
family members who were interested in taking her son in, so he had been
temporarily placed in a shelter until a suitable placement could be found
for him.

She went on to explain that his father had never been identified, but it
was strongly believed he was either a pusher or another user who had
swapped drugs for sexual favors.  In the long run, however, the boy's
mother ended up with more than just drugs out of that deal.  Sally also
informed me that she didn't know if the boy was gay, bi or straight,
because he was probably too young to even know himself.  She did point out
that he had enough going against him already and could use a stable
environment, so she thought he would be the perfect choice for me.  She
described him as an average student, although some of his teachers
considered him a behavioral problem, and he was currently in the seventh
grade.  She said that I probably knew this young gentleman already, because
he attended my school, but hoped that wouldn't be a problem.  She strongly
urged me to accept him into my home and thought we would get along well.

I considered everything she told me, but I knew she was correct in her
assumptions.  >From her description of the boy's background information, I
deduced she was talking about none other than Ricky Glover.  He wasn't a
bad kid, although he did seem to spend a lot of time in my office.  He was
just so full of energy and mischievousness that some of the teaching staff
could not handle him within a group setting, since they had to deal with
twenty or more other students at the same time.  He wasn't a mean or
vicious young man, but he was a whirling dervish who could only be subdued
by a tranquilizer dart filled with a dosage large enough to calm a raging
elephant.  I actually had a soft spot in my heart for this kid, as he was
quite humorous at times, but I was not sure if he was the right individual
with which to start this experiment.  To allow me time to mull this over, I
told Sally I would have to give it some thought, but I would get back to
her within twenty-four hours.

After getting off the phone, I worked in my office for a while longer and
then went out to make a tour of the halls.  As I entered the waiting area
outside my office, after completing my tour, guess who was there!  "Ricky,
into my office, now," I blurted out, more harshly than I probably should
have.

Temporarily startled, he rose to his feet and looked at me cautiously, but
when he noticed I wasn't about to burst into a rage, a smile began to form
on his face.  Feeling a little more confident, he strolled past me and into
my office, as if he owned the place.  "Hi, Mr. Currie," he greeted me, as
he walked by.

Although I wanted to put him in his place and show him who was the boss, it
was hard for me to be upset with this adorable little imp.  Ricky stood
about five-feet, two-inches tall, with shoulder-length blond hair,
smoky-gray eyes, and a nearly constant toothy smile.  That last part always
amazed me.  I often wondered how this little guy could always appear to be
so happy, when in reality he had suffered through so much.  He was a little
on the slender side, without being skinny, but looked as if he had a fairly
decent build.  If he ever got into a fight with someone who was around his
own size, I suspect Ricky would win that battle.  He was a street-wise,
scrappy kid who had just about raised himself, and he certainly was more
mature in some areas than his peers.  "What are you here for this time,
Ricky?" I demanded.

My tenor caused him to look down at the floor, to avoid my gaze.
"Mrs. Snyder sent me to your office because I couldn't stop laughing in
class," he responded, quite sheepishly.

"And what was so funny?" I wanted to know.

He flashed me a wide grin before he answered.  "Seth Horvath cut a big fart
in class and it really smelled.  That made me laugh a little, but it was
even funnier watching the other kids trying not to breathe. I just couldn't
stop myself from laughing when they started gagging, because they couldn't
hold their breath any longer.  I tried not to laugh out loud, but I just
couldn't hold it back."  He was almost in hysterics again, just relaying
the story to me.

"I guess I can see the humor in that situation, Ricky," I advised him, "but
you've got to practice better self-control.  I'm sure there were others in
the class who thought it was funny too, but they were able to contain
themselves.  You've just got to try a little harder."

"I know, sir," he told me, and I could tell he was trying to be sincere.
He was just so lovable, but he could be an irritant to those without a
sense of humor or who were already stressed out.  "I'm really sorry and
I'll tell Mrs. Snyder that too.  I'll try harder next time.  I promise I
will."

"I know you will, Ricky," I assured him, "and that would be greatly
appreciated.  Please go back out and sit in the other room until the bell
sounds for your next class."

"Yes, Mr. Currie," he responded, as he headed for the door.  Part of the
way there, he stopped and turned to look back at me.  "Thank you,
Mr. Currie, and I am really sorry."  He flashed me another smile and then
turned and went back out to the reception area.

I trust you are beginning to get an idea what I mean about this particular
young man.  He is not the unrepentant devil that some of the teachers want
to portray him as and is not hopelessly incorrigible, but he can be a
disruptive force in the classroom.  He did make me chuckle, though, when I
pictured what that scene must have looked like through his eyes.  I
immediately picked up the phone and called Sally.

"Hello, Sally Swarthout." I recognized my friend's voice.

"Sally, this is Josh Currie.  I'll take him," I stated, succinctly.  I
heard her chuckle and then we concluded the necessary information exchange.
By the time we finished, I had totally committed myself.

That evening I went home and readied the place for my new foster son.  I
didn't really have to do much, as the room still contained the furniture
that one of my children had used when he lived at home, but it did need a
quick cleaning.  It didn't take long for me to dust the furniture and run
the vacuum over the carpet, before I put fresh sheets, pillowcases and
blankets on the bed.  I even fluffed the pillows for him.  Once everything
was in order, I made my way back downstairs.  As I was about to descend the
final steps, I heard the doorbell ring.  Suddenly, I felt a little nervous,
but still managed to walk over and open the door.  There stood Sally and
Ricky, each carrying a small suitcase.

"Hi, Mr. Currie.  Are you going to be my new dad?" Ricky blurted out,
immediately.  As he spoke, he looked directly into my eyes, like he thought
he could absorb the answer from them.

"Yes, I guess you might say that," I agreed.  "Come on in and I'll show you
around."  I stepped aside, so they could both pass by me, and then I
started to show my guests around the first floor.

"You live in this big house?"  Ricky asked, his eyes bulging from their
sockets.  "Doesn't anyone else live here with you?"

"Yes, I live here," I confirmed, "and my family used to live here with me.
My children are all grown now and on their own, and my wife died last year.
Since that time, I have been living alone in this big, old house, but
that's why you're here.  We're going to keep each other company and you're
going to bring some life back into this place."  Hearing me say this, his
grin broadened, if that were actually possible.  "Come on," I continued,
"and I'll show you to your room."

Ricky's enormous grin never faded, as he and Sally followed me up the
staircase to the second floor.  I took them down the hall to a small
bedroom, right across from the master suite.  "I thought you would like
this particular room," I advised him.  "It used to belong to my older son."

Ricky went in and looked around, checking out every detail.  He looked
closely at the walls, investigating the dark wood paneling that covered the
lower half, before checking out the wallpaper on the upper portion.  The
wallpaper pattern was selected especially for my son, when he was about
Ricky's age, and it depicted young boys playing various sports.  From
there, he went over to investigate the ample closet in the corner, the
window at the far end of the room, which had a built in desk beneath it,
and then he looked down at the blue carpet, which covered the floor.  He
also took time to check out the single bed, the nightstand and the chest of
drawers, all made from light oak, and then he looked back at me.

"This is really nice.  You mean it's mine now?"  His expression told me he
thought I was going to say no and tell him I was just joking, so I knew I
had to put him at ease.

"Yes, it is, and my room is just across the hall, in case you need
anything."  Hearing that, he walked past me and strolled into my bedroom,
as he wanted a peek at the master suite.  When he had sufficiently
satisfied his curiosity, I decided to tell him a little more.

"You passed the main bathroom on the way to your room.  It's between your
bedroom and the stairway.  All we have to do is put your toothbrush in the
holder on the sink, because I put everything else you'll need in there
earlier."

"Thanks, Mr. Currie.  I like it here already," he told me.  His
ever-present grin seemed to brighten the entire second-floor.  After making
that comment, he moved toward me and wrapped his arms around my waist, to
emphasize his point.  It looked as if it wasn't going to take much to make
him happy, but it was sure a joy to see him so excited.

"Well, it doesn't appear as if you gentlemen need me here," Sally suddenly
announced, "so, I think I'll be heading home."  We both followed her, as
she made her way down the staircase.  When she reached the bottom, she
stopped and turned toward Ricky.

"I'll see you again in a few days," she informed him, "to see how you're
doing."  He smiled up at her and then hugged her about the waist, before
she turned toward me.  "Thanks, Josh," she added.  "I think this is going
to work out splendidly."

"I hope so, Sally, and thanks for your help.  Have a safe trip home," I
added, out of habit.  It was the way I said good-bye to my children,
whenever they came to visit, since none of them lived close-by any longer.

"Night, Mrs. Swarthout," Ricky chimed in, peering out from under my arm,
which was holding the screen door open.  Sally had already reached her car
by that point, but she waved before getting into her vehicle and driving
away.  After watching her make her way down the street, I looked down at my
new housemate.

"So, are you hungry, Ricky?" I asked him.

"Yes, sir.  I am," he advised me, with his perpetual grin still spread
eagerly across his face.  He truly was easy to become attached to.

"Well, what would you like to eat?" I inquired, not sure what types of
foods he might enjoy.  He thought about this momentarily, before offering
his suggestion.

"How about a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup?  Do you got that
stuff?" he responded.

"It's - do you HAVE that stuff?" I corrected him, "and yes, I do."  He
nodded at my grammar lesson, letting me know he understood, and then I set
about fixing our meal.  It wasn't what I would have normally thought of
having for dinner, but seeing he had suggested it, I decided I could live
with it too.  It didn't take long before everything was ready.

I took the appropriate dishes, silverware and glasses from where they were
stored in the cupboards and asked Ricky to take them into the dining room
and set the table.  I carried the food in right behind him and dished it
out, and soon we were enjoying our simple fare.  Ricky managed to devour
his food in record time, so I asked him if he wanted more.  He paused
before answering, giving me the feeling he was afraid of looking greedy.

"Don't be bashful," I urged him.  "If you want something else, just say
so."  He looked at me suspiciously, trying to determine if I was being
sincere, before he responded.

"If you don't mind, I could use a little more," he conceded, still somewhat
tentative about giving me his reply.  I quickly fixed us both another
sandwich and then scooped the last of the soup into his bowl.  After moving
back to my seat, I watched in amazement as he eagerly devoured his second
helping.

After Ricky and I finished our meal, I showed him how to rinse off his
dishes and put them into the dishwasher.  He thanked me for the food,
before following me into the family room, and then he sat on the sofa
beside me.  "Ricky, do you have any school work that you need to finish?" I
asked him, not wanting to let him start off on the wrong foot.

"No, sir.  I did it while I was waiting for Mrs. Swarthout to bring me
here," he answered, before flashing me another of his special grins.

"Very good," I praised him.  "Would you like to watch some television
then?"

"Yeah.  That would be nice," he responded, wiggling about next to me.

"Here, you can use the remote to find something you'd like," I told him,
while handing him the thin, black controller.  "I'll just make sure I
approve of it, once you make your choice," I warned him, just to let him
know there might be some restrictions.

He eagerly took the remote from my hand and it appeared as though he was
starting to believe I wasn't out to trick him.  He immediately began
flipping through the channels, and after a brief search, he found one of
those sitcoms geared toward teens.  I judged it to be suitable for his
viewing, so I buried my nose into the evening paper, while he enjoyed his
program.



Castaway Hotel -- Grand Reopening by BW
Copyright 2009 by billwstories
Chapter 2 -- The Adjustment Period.

It was sometime later when Ricky interrupted my reading.  "Mr. Currie?"

"Yes, Ricky."

"What am I suppose to call you now?" he wondered.  I had to admit I hadn't
even considered this question, but now he was forcing me to come up with an
answer.

"Well, what would you like to call me?" I asked him, hoping he would give
me an idea or two.  However, he wasn't that brave yet.

"You tell me," he countered, putting the onus back on me.  I thought I
could tell by his expression he had something in mind, while secretly
hoping I would offer him that particular choice.  Seeing I had no idea what
that might be, I tried to put the ball back into his court.

"You must have some idea what you'd like to call me," I informed him,
before adding, "as long as it isn't anything bad."  The comment caused a
concerned look to spread over his face, as if he thought I worried that he
would come up with something nasty.

"I wouldn't do that," he assured me, trying to make me feel better.

"I didn't expect you would," I told him.  "I was just teasing you."  He
seemed to breathe a little easier after hearing my response, but I could
tell that I would need to get him started.  "So, it's your choice.  Would
you like to use my first name or did you have something else in mind?"

He studied me carefully before saying anything.  After summoning his
courage, he finally began to speak.

"Can I call you 'Dad'?" he asked tentatively.  When I did not immediately
respond to him, a worried look came over his face, as if he were sure he
had gone too far by making that suggestion.  "It's just that I've never had
a dad," he stammered out, hoping to soothe my anger, "and I always wondered
what it would be like to have one.  Besides, you've kind of been like a dad
to me at school."

After finishing his explanation, he looked up at me with those big, soulful
eyes, which just melted my heart.  Fortunately, he had read the situation
wrong, because I was never upset by his suggestion.  I was just so overcome
that he would even think of referring to me in that manner, that it took me
a few seconds to find my tongue again.

"If that's what you wish to call me, then you may," I advised him, which
seemed to allow him to relax and start breathing again.  I think he had
unconsciously held his breath, while he waited to see how I was going to
respond to his suggestion.

"In fact, I'd be very pleased to have you call me Dad," I continued, "but
only when we are not at school.  When we're there, you will still refer to
me as Mr. Currie.  That's something I even made my children do when they
attended my school."  Ricky nodded his understanding, letting me know he
understood I wasn't making this rule just for him.

"Yes, sir... I mean... yes, Dad," he answered, as that huge grin reappeared
on his face.  He then leaned against me and finished watching his program,
while I went back to catching up on the news.  Once I finished reading the
paper, I decided to watch a little TV with him.

Instinctively, I lifted my arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, and
before I knew it, he was snuggled up tightly against me.  Soon, he was
resting his head on my chest, and the next thing I knew, he was sound
asleep in that position.  Carefully, I lifted my arm and stood up, so I
could pick him up and carry him to his room.  After pulling the bedding
back and laying him on his bed, I removed all of his clothing, except for
his underwear.  Gently, I pulled the covers up and over his body, kissed
him tenderly on the forehead and then turned off the lights, before I went
back downstairs.

I quickly finished up a few things I needed to do in my office, such as
checking my email messages and taking care of a small stack of paperwork I
had left for that evening.  Once I had completed everything, I went up to
my room and prepared for bed.  It didn't take long for me to fall asleep
and I slept contentedly until around 2:00 a.m., when I felt movement on the
bed beside me.  Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked about, and that's when
I became aware of Ricky's presence.  I guess he must have also noticed me
open my eyes.

"Dad, can I sleep in here with you for the rest of the night?" he asked,
his eyes wide and his body trembling slightly.

"Did you have a bad dream, sport?" I asked him.  "Or are you just having
trouble sleeping in your new room?"

"Both, I guess," he told me, while looking hopefully in my direction.

"Okay, I suppose we can allow it for tonight," I told him, causing him to
rapidly peel back the bedding, so he could crawl under the covers, beside
me.  "Just remember," I added, "that I don't want you making a habit of
this."

"No, sir, I won't," he agreed.  "I just woke up and had to pee, but I
couldn't get back to sleep in my new room.  It's kinda scary, because
everything is so different."

"Yes, I am sure the first night in a new place might be a little
unsettling," I agreed, just to let him know I didn't think any less of him
for doing this.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, before leaning over and giving me a kiss on the
cheek.  That made me wonder if he was awake when I kissed him on the
forehead before, but regardless of whether that was true or not, I think
this little rascal had already wormed his way into my heart.

We slept side-by-side throughout the night, and in the morning I had Ricky
shower and get dressed before he came down for breakfast.  I pointed out
where everything was kept and advised him that he could use whatever he
needed.  Since I had my own bathroom, just off of the master bedroom, that
bathroom would be solely for his personal use, unless we got another
boarder.  Once he finished his morning ritual, he came down to the table
and eagerly devoured all of the food I set before him.  If I hadn't known
better, I'd have thought it had been a while since his last meal, but it
made me feel good to see his healthy appetite and know he was feeling
comfortable about living here.  While he ate, I tried to address some of
the other issues that might need our attention soon.

"Ricky, now that you're living with me, there might be some comments made
to you about this situation.  Some of the children might think you will be
getting preferential treatment, because you are my foster son now.  Do you
understand what I'm saying?"

"I think so, Dad, but I'm not quite sure."  I could see the slightly
confused look on his face, so I knew I needed to explain this better.

"What I'm trying to say is, the other students may think that I am favoring
you, just because you are living here with me."

"That's what I thought you meant," he informed me, as the puzzled
expression began to disappear from his angelic face.

"That means you'll have to help me, so the others won't think that," I
advised him.  "I'll need you to be on your best behavior from now on, when
you're at school.  That means you can't be getting sent to my office so
often, you must keep up with your class work and you'll have to try to
cooperate with your teachers better.  Do you think you can do that?"  This
time a scared look replaced his confused expression.

"I'll try, Mr. Currie, but I may forget sometimes," he almost whined, and I
concluded he was fearful that any miscue on his part would cause me to send
him away.  I knew I had to reassure him that wouldn't happen.

"I'll understand an occasional slip-up," I offered, "but I do need you to
try your hardest, so it will be less frequent than it's been in the past."

He hung his head slightly.  "I don't mean to be bad and get into trouble,
it's just sometimes I can't help myself."  He paused briefly, but I didn't
think I needed to say anything just yet.  "I'll try, Mr. Currie," he
finally added.  "I really will.  Just don't get mad at me if I goof up once
in a while."

"As long as I can tell that you're trying to do better, we won't have any
problems," I told him, soothingly.  "I won't throw you out if you mess up,
unless it's really, really bad.  And why are you calling me Mr. Currie
again?  We're not in school."  He looked up at me, his eyes as big as
saucers, so I stuck my tongue out at him, just to let him know I'd never
throw him out and wasn't angry about his slip up.  After thinking it over
for a few seconds, that all too familiar grin reappeared, lighting up his
face.

"You can be silly sometimes," he informed me, before continuing,
enthusiastically, "and I guess I was just getting ready for later."  Now, a
serious look spread across his face.  "Thanks, Dad.  I love you."

Whoa.  Where did that come from?  Even though I've known him from school
for a couple of years, he's only been here less than a day and he's telling
me he loves me.  Hearing that choked me up big time, but I knew I'd have to
respond fairly quickly, so he didn't begin to draw away from me or
misinterpret my inaction.  "I love you, too, Ricky," I eventually managed
to get out, the emotion evident in my voice.  "Now, go and round up your
things," I added, while giving him a gentle smack on his behind, "so we can
be off for school."

The pat on his bottom sent him forward briefly, but he only took a couple
of steps before he stopped again and wheeled about.  Suddenly, he came
flying back toward me and leaped into the air, causing me to catch him.
Enthusiastically, the little imp threw his arms around my neck and kissed
my cheek, so I squeezed him back and kissed his forehead.

Yeah, I know.  I guess I'm just a soft touch, but I do believe we really
were beginning to love each other.

I didn't see Ricky the entire day at school, with the exception of lunch
period, when he came to my office to ask me a question.  "Mr. Currie?"

"Yes, Ricky."  He looked a little nervous.

"I was wondering... well, ah, I... I wondered what you wanted me... you
know... to do about lunch?"  He looked as if he were almost afraid to ask
me this question.  Then it struck me - some father I'm going to be.  I
hadn't even thought about packing him a lunch or giving him lunch money.

"I'm sorry, Ricky," I apologized.  "I'm just not used to having children to
think about any longer, except as students.  Would you mind buying your
lunch in the cafeteria today?"

"No, sir.  That would be fine," he offered, seemingly satisfied with that
idea.  I reached into my back pocket and took out my wallet and opened it
up.

"OK.  Here's a few dollars," I told him, handing him the money.  "Let me
know if you need any more."  He looked shocked.

"No, Mr. Currie.  This will be plenty," he told me quite quickly, before
flashing one of his special grins at me.  Satisfied, he turned and began to
trot off, toward the cafeteria.

"No running in the halls, please," I reminded him gently, from behind.

He turned back toward me, giving me a chance to notice the sheepish
expression plastered on his face.  "Sorry.  I forgot," he apologized,
before turning away from me again and heading down the hall, this time at a
slower pace.

I didn't see him again until he came by my office after school and asked
what he should do until I finished working.  I told him he could either go
outside and play or he could go to the library and do his school work.  He
nodded his understanding and told me he'd let me know which he was planning
on doing, and then left my office.  After a few minutes he returned, so he
could tell me he decided to go to the library, as there was no one outside
with whom he was friendly.  I told him that would be fine and I would come
to get him when I was ready to leave.  I jotted down a quick note and
placed it on my briefcase.  "DON'T FORGET RICKY" was all it said.

About an hour later, I finished up for the day and grabbed my briefcase.
It was a good thing I'd put the post-it note there or I might have
forgotten all about him.  Wouldn't that have gone over big?  I walked down
the hall to the library and went inside.  I was amazed to see Ricky
actually busy doing his homework.  He didn't see or hear me enter, so I
walked up behind him and peered over his shoulder.  I could see he was
working on some math problems.  "When you get to a point where you can
stop, we can go home," I told him, which caused him to jump slightly in his
seat and whirl around.

"Jeez, Mr. Currie, you scared the shit out of me," he said, panting
slightly, showing the physical signs of that fright.  "Oops, sorry about
the shit part," he added, after thinking about what he'd said.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Ricky.  I didn't mean to do that and I'm partially
responsible for your response, so don't worry about it," I assured him,
before going back to my original question.  "So, how soon before you'll be
ready to leave."

"Now!" he told me, leaping out of his chair.  "I'm starved."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, as I began to remember how much
pre-teen and teen boys could eat.  "Okay, I'll take my baby home and feed
him," I joked.

"Hey, I ain't no baby!" he stated, defiantly.

"I didn't mean you were a baby, just that you're my youngest child," I
explained, hoping that would soothe his ruffled feathers.  "You see, all my
children are much older than you, so you are now the baby of my family."
He just stared at me for a few seconds, unsure as to how he should respond,
but finally his ever-present grin reappeared.

"Okay, I guess that's all right then," he told me, before giving me a cocky
little head flip.  I think my comment had made him feel he was special and
officially a part of my life.

"Okay, what does my hungry little fellow want to eat tonight?" I asked him.

"Anything, as long as it's food and it doesn't take long to fix," he
replied, without hesitation.

"Well, I could order a pizza and we could swing over and pick it up on the
way home. I could even fix us both a salad, to go with it.  But, if you can
wait a little longer than that, I can throw a couple of steaks on the
grill, bake a couple of potatoes and fix a salad with that.  Which would
you prefer?"  He thought deeply about this before answering.

"The steak sure sounds good," he told me.  "I've only had one steak before,
but it was great.  Will it take very long?"

"The potatoes will take the longest, but we should have it ready in twenty
to thirty minutes," I assured him.  "So will that be fast enough?"

"Yeah," he told me, while thinking about this unusual treat for himself,
"as long as I can have a snack when we get home."

"Oh, I think that can be arranged," I agreed.  "Then steak, baked potato
and salad it is," I added.  Ricky hurriedly gathered up all his things and
then I put my arm over his shoulder and walked him out to the car.


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