Date: Sun, 20 Mar 2005 09:18:40 -0800
From: Cole Parker <colepark@gmail.com>
Subject: 8th Grade, Chapter 4

The following is a work of fiction.  It will depict sex between
young boys.  Should it be illegal for you to read this, please
do not do so.  You don't want to get in trouble and neither do
I.

This story will not contain a lot of sex, in fact, just the exact
amount appropriate for this story.  What a novel idea!  If you
want a lot of sex, you probably should read a different story.
There are a lot on this website.

Any remarks can be addressed to: Cole Parker
<colepark@gmail.com>

				 8th Grade

				 Chapter 4

The next morning in math Brad came up to me to chat before class and
was really friendly.  There was something about him, something I didn't
understand but something that made my shyness go away.  I found I
didn't have any problem just talking and responding to him.  Weird.
After classes that afternoon Brad was already in the corner of the
detention room waiting for me.  I grinned at him, then walked up to the
front of the room.  Tonight's Keeper of Good Order was Mrs. Odom, a
young first year teacher who always tried to be friends with all the
kids.  I figured this would be easy, and it was.  She readily agreed
that Brad and I could work together and even said we could ask her for
help if we needed it.  I thanked her and went back to the corner.

"What did your parents say, you know, about the detention and the D?" I
asked.

"Ah, they weren't too bad.  Sort of like I expected.  When I told them
how much I'd learned, working with you, they forgot all about
everything else.  Dad wants me to get an athletic scholarship after
high school and keeps telling me I have to keep my grades up to get one
from a big school, and I have to start now.  He's been on my ass about
algebra.  He was really pleased when I told him you were helping me and
it was all making sense."

"That's great Brad, but remember, I'm just showing you what Graedon
should have.  You're doing all the work learning it," I pointed out.
"You're really very good at this."

"Naaa.  I'm really not.  I didn't get it at all from Graedon.  You're a
better teacher than she is, you know?  All she does is gripe and piss
and moan at us, then make sarcastic remarks when we have problems.
You keep encouraging me, and you make it understandable.  I don't know
why, but you seem to really want me to learn the stuff, and for some
reason, that helps.  I'd just given up on this.  I thought I was too
stupid to learn it."  He looked a little embarrassed, then smiled at me
again, and got a look it his eyes, his very deep blue eyes.  I couldn't
quite interpret it, but the look made my stomach feel funny.  I started
feeling very uneasy all of a sudden and didn't know why.

"Let's look at where we stopped yesterday," I said, sitting down and
messing with my books; I ended up with a couple of them on my lap.

We worked together, I pointed out a couple things, we kept talking back
and forth and way too soon Mrs. Odom was telling everyone they could
go.  Brad seemed almost reluctant to stop.  I had to admit, it hadn't
seemed like an hour and a half.  I guess sitting there working with
Brad, being that close and comfortable with him, can do that to you.
The feelings I'd had yesterday of getting to know him and liking being
with him had continued to grow.  He seemed very comfortable with me,
too, but perhaps that was wishful thinking on my part.  Maybe I just
wanted it to be true.  After all, he was a star, I was a dork.  That's
a very important divide at 13.

"Well, at least we're done with detention," I said lightly.

"Yeah, but we've still got a couple chapters to cover.  Hey, could we
do this again tomorrow?  I could come over to your house after
practice."  He got a pleading look it his eyes and seemed so eager that
it was funny and I had to laugh.  Then I sobered up and remembered whom
I was talking to.

"Are you sure you want to do that?  You know, we got stuck in here
because of my big mouth and temper, but now, you can get anyone to help
you.  You don't need to hang around with me for this."

Brad looked at me and it seemed he got sort of angry right away.  "What
are you talking about?" he asked angrily.   "Nobody's going to help me
like you are.  Do you want to stop doing it?  I don't.  I want to keep
going.  You can keep doing this, can't you?"  His tone changed.
"Please?"

"Sure, if you want to.  I'll keep going it you want to."  Was he
kidding?  This was great!  I LOVED doing it.  "I'll need to give you
directions.  Here, I'll draw you a map."  I was opening my notebook
when I felt his hand on my arm.

"You don't need to do that.  I know where you live.   I'll be over
right after practice tomorrow.  Should be around 4:45.  That OK?"

"Sure," I said.  "See you then."

He smiled at me and said, "I'd give you a ride home but my mom's taking
me to the mall to get some stuff and then we're going out to eat.  So
OK, see you tomorrow."  And with that he was gone.


                             ---()---


I went to my locker, dropped off my books, stuck some different ones in
my backpack, grabbed it and my jacket and started home.  I live about a
mile from school and always walked.  I could have ridden my bike but
with a heavy backpack it was awkward and I didn't mind walking anyway.
I always sort of wished I had someone to walk with, but kept that
thought in the back of my mind as much as possible.

When I got home my father greeted me as usual and we sat for a while
talking about what had gone on at school.  I have to say right out, I'm
very close to my dad.  We talk about things most teenagers don't
discuss with their fathers, like what's happening in my life and my
feelings and stuff like that, almost everything's OK to talk about,
although sex has never come up.  That we don't discuss.  And I hadn't
had the courage yet to talk about maybe being gay, but as I don't know
what's what with that anyway, it's always seemed premature to talk
about it with anyone.  But I probably will when I'm ready, and I don't
think I'll have a problem doing it.  I can discuss anything that is
troubling me.  I really like him and we're really close, as I said.   I
don't hate him or feel rebellious against him or anything else.  He's
smart and affectionate and supportive and, well, really cool.  And he's
the only one I can talk to like a best friend.  He knew about me
working with Brad, we'd discussed what had happened yesterday, and so I
told him he'd be coming over tomorrow to finish the work he needed help
with.

"OK," he said, "Why don't you go make sure your room looks good, just
like you want it to, so you can work there tomorrow."

I agreed, and after making sure I couldn't get him anything, headed
upstairs to do that.  First, of course, when I got there, there was
something more urgent to attend to.  An hour and a half of being close
to Brad had increased about ten fold the normal urgency I always felt
this time of day.

I didn't have to worry any about being interrupted, so closing the door
was more a formality than necessity.  I always changed out of my school
clothes when I got home.  Closing my door, then undressing, was sort of
a ritual, a preparation, that in and of itself got me excited.  By the
time I was undressed, I was ready.  From ready to explosion didn't take
very long.  I'm 13.

                             ---()---


All next day I was buzzed.  I was looking forward eagerly to Brad
coming over, but was nervous at the same time.  I guess you could call
it a dreadful anticipation.  This was the most popular kid in school,
coming over to my house!  He sure hadn't acted the slightest bit stuck
up with me, but he had a lot of friends, all of whom were popular and a
lot of whom were probably rich, maybe even he was rich, I didn't know,
and my family sure wasn't.  We just had a small house in a lower middle
class neighborhood that sure wasn't anything special.  My room was
small, and, oh my God, where was Brad going to sit?  I'd have to think
about this.  I couldn't sit on the bed with him.  I'd be hard as a
steel pipe in a second, and he'd see.  The small desk I had in one
corner was only big enough for one chair.  That wouldn't work at all.
Maybe we could work on the floor.  There was room for that, we wouldn't
be so close together, the bed wouldn't be wiggling every time either of
us moved, that might be a lot better.

And then a thought jumped out of nowhere.  It was: Brad knows where I
live!  Huh?  That didn't make any sense.  Why would he have any idea
where I lived?  He didn't even know I existed till a couple days ago.
Or did he?  He seemed to know my name.  I was used to being totally
anonymous at school.  This was confusing.  It seemed a little strange.
It seemed even a bit unsettling.

In math class, Mrs. Graedon announced a big test next Monday.  She
looked at Brad when she said, "and this one will cover everything we've
studied so far."  The class groaned its mandatory groan and she glared
at us, then began talking about imaginary numbers.

After class, Brad reminded me he'd be over tonight and I told him I was
looking forward to it.  He smiled and said, "Me too.  See ya then."  I
watched him as he headed off down the hall for his next class.  He was
gorgeous.