Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2005 17:21:53 -0800
From: Cole Parker <colepark@gmail.com>
Subject: 8th Grade, Chapter 5

The following is a work of fiction, a product of my imagination.
Though I wish I'd known these characters, I have only in my head.
This story will contain some sex between consenting partners.  Both
partners will be boys.  Please read no further if that offends you,
or if it is illegal to do so.  Following the rules is safer in the
long run.

This story will not contain a lot of sex, but what is consistent with
the thrust of the story and the personalities of the characters.  I
sincerely hope you are not disappointed.

I would like to thank Chris for his good suggestions and support and
keeping me grounded.

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


				 8th Grade

				 Chapter 5


I was waiting at the door when Brad arrived.  I introduced him to my
father before we went upstairs.  I asked him if he wanted a coke or
anything and he readily accepted one.  He said his practices always
left him thirsty.

When I brought two cokes upstairs he was looking around my room.  It
was rather plain and I was a little embarrassed about it.  I didn't
have the walls covered with posters, I didn't have a computer, about
the only thing I had were lots of books I'd read, a small CD player
and a radio.  But Brad didn't seem to notice the Spartan condition.
He sat on the bed and drank about half his coke.  Then he asked the
question I figured he would.

"What's the matter with your dad?"

I expected it, so wasn't surprised.  "He has had diabetes all his
life, but it finally got worse.  He's been in a wheelchair for
several years, but two years ago it affected his eyes and now he's
blind as well."  I said this very simply without any emotion.
Emotion, I'd discovered, always evoked a really sympathetic,
unnatural response, which always made me feel awkward.

"God, that's awful.  I'm really sorry."  Brad looked like he meant
it, that he felt badly about what I'd said and he seemed genuine.  He
seemed to be reacting to my father's problems, now feeling sorry for
me.  I couldn't help but like him for that.

"Yeah, it is awful, but he does the best he can.  He stays cheerful,
and he's just this great guy.  If you ever get the chance to talk to
him, you'll see.   We talk a lot, and do stuff.   When you're around
him, you sort of forget about the problems he has.  He's just Dad,
you know?"  I needed to stop talking. I was sounding a little funny,
some huskiness was creeping into my voice.  I looked around the room,
at everything but him, and after a pause said, "Well, you want to get
to work?"

We settled down on the carpet and started working on the rest of the
book that we hadn't hadn't had time to complete in detention. The
camaraderie we seemed to have developed in working together for
two days in detention was still present, and without the detention
room restrictions, this time we were able to make the studying fun.
Within a short time I was teasing him, he was being sarcastic right
back, and we were actually doing math and laughing at the same time.
Within a shorter time than I'd imagined we'd finished, and I was
sorry it had to come to an end.

>From what I could see, Brad might have felt the same way.  He closed
his book and then started fidgeting.  I could tell he wanted to say
something, but was hesitating.  Finally, I guess the pressure got too
great for him.  Brad was always a straightforward, shoot from the hip
guy.  Holding back wasn't in his character.

"Danny, can I ask you a question?" Brad asked with a very serious
look in his eye.  This made me nervous, but what was I supposed to
do, say no?

"Sure."

"Well, this is a little embarrassing, but...."  He looked very
uncomfortable, but Brad wasn't one to let something being difficult
stop him.  "Danny, I really appreciate the help you've given me.  I
mean, it's been great and you didn't have to.  You put yourself out
for me.  And you'll never know how much difference it makes to me.
So, well, I kind of feel in your debt, you know?  So I'm going to
talk to you about something, and it's difficult, I don't want to hurt
your feelings, but I'm going to go ahead anyway."

He paused to take a breath, then said, "Danny, you don't seem to have
any friends at school, and you're this really neat guy with a great
sense of humor, smarter than almost anyone in school and cute and,
and...."  He blushed a little, probably embarrassed when he realized
he said that, but plowed ahead.  "Well, I don't understand why you're
such a loner.  You could be one of the most popular kids there, but
you just stay to yourself.  Why?"

"You're right.  This is embarrassing.  I don't know what to say."

"Danny, I want to be your friend."  Brad put his hand on my forearm
and looked at me right in my eyes.  "I want you to be my friend."  He
was so direct, so focused, it was sort of intimidating.  Brad wanted
to be my friend?  Wow.  But this was unknown territory for me.  I
didn't know what to say.  He was waiting though, looking at me.  I
had to say something.

"I'd like that a lot.  I really like you, um, I mean, being around
you.  But Brad, you don't really know me.  And I don't much like
talking about myself."

"Well, I like you.  You're just neat and we get along with each other
and all.  I'd really like hanging with you.  I want to be your
friend, I want to hang around with you more.  I think you're nuts for
backing off from people, pushing them away.  You're smart, you're
kind and considerate, you have a funny sense of humor, you're fun to
be with."  He stopped.  This was a strange conversation.  Kids aren't
usually so open with each other.   They keep their emotions and inner
feelings to themselves.  They protect themselves that way.

What could I say?  He was looking at me so intently, his eyes were so
deep as he looked at me, I couldn't just blow this off.  I had to
talk to him.  He was waiting for a response.

"Look Brad, I'd love to have lots of friends, go to parties, go on
dates, sure I would, but I just don't have much time for friends.  I
guess I can talk about it if you want me to."

I paused, hoping for I don't know what, maybe a major earthquake to
interrupt us, but Brad just kept staring at me, the earth remained
still, and I had to continue.

"I used to have friends, not a lot because I've always been shy and
stuff, but I had some friends.  Then, when my father's eyesight
failed, everything changed.  He couldn't work any longer.  He didn't
have any sort of disability insurance which meant mom had to go to
work.  She doesn't have a college degree and had never worked before
so all she could get were low paying jobs, and because we had some
big bills from dad's eye problems, just to pay off the debts and make
ends meet, she ended up having to work two jobs.  So, instead of
being a carefree kid, I was suddenly left with having to do all the
work around the house that my father couldn't do and my mother was
too tired to do."  This was starting to sound mushy and sad and like
I was sorry for myself, which was one of the reasons I didn't like to
talk about it.  A lot of people were a lot worse off than I was.
What I was saying sounded more like a kid whining than anything else.

Brad kept looking at me, not much expression visible on his face, but
seemed to know there was more, and all he said was, "OK, go on."

"Well," I said, "I want to go to college, and my parents want me to
go, too.  The only way I can do that is if I can get a full
scholarship somewhere, so I have to study hard enough to keep getting
A's.  In everything.  If I don't start now, I won't be prepared for
high school.  On top of that, I have to do all the housework, and the
yard work, and cook the meals and sort of take care of my father, you
know, be here for him.  This really doesn't leave me any time for
friends.  The ones I used to have would ask me to do things and I
didn't have the time to do them or, at first, the energy because
doing all that work I hadn't done before was more than I expected.
Doing all that and worrying about everything, well, it just wore me
out.  I'm used to it now, but after always saying no to my friends,
they just stopped asking and finally stopped hanging with me.  I'm
not surprised.  I didn't have any time for them.  So, when they
stopped hanging with me, and me being shy and finding it difficult to
make new friends, and not having time for friends anyway and. . . ."
My voice sort of trailed off, and I looked down at my feet.

Brad kept looking at me, and then did something I'll never forget.
He stood up, moved closer, sat down next to me and hugged me.