Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2015 07:31:03 +0000 (UTC)
From: Brian Roberson <rtbrno65@yahoo.com>
Subject: Timothy And That Unusual Friend Of His Chapter 1

This is the sequel to "quincy and that unusual friend of his" in the gay
young friends section. Please do not read if you're not allowed to do so in
your jurisdiction, or if you disliked the original story.


		 "Timothy And That Unusual Friend Of His"
			     by brian roberson


				 Chapter 1

      "Hear me..."

Quincy awoke with a start. He gasped for air as the awful nightmare began
to recede in his memory. He sat up in his bed and shuddered as he rubbed
the sides of his arms. He saw that he was in his room, the same room he had
had since his family moved into this house three years before. Nonetheless,
he felt imprisoned, as though he were locked in a cage. The feeling soon
passed and he felt himself returning to normal, or rather to whatever it
was that passed for normal in his life. He looked at his clock and saw that
it was 6:15, so it was time for him to get up anyway. His gangly adolescent
frame slowly rose from the bed, and he awkwardly trudged towards the
bathroom in the hallway.

      Being the son of a Congressman is not an easy thing. In addition to
constantly being potentially in the public eye, Quincy would often have to
answer to kids at school who disapproved of his father's politics, or who
just wanted to use his father as an excuse to give him shit. On more than
one occasion he would arrive home to find a swarm of reporters, or a group
of voters crowding him as he tried to get to the sanctuary of his
bedroom. His father had already been reelected once, and was apparently on
his way to winning a third term that coming November.

      After his shower Quincy rubbed the steam off of the mirror. He then
grabbed the tube of Clearasil and began his daily battle against zits and
pimples, which liked to bloom in groups on his face while he slept. He had
just started ninth grade at Mclean High School. His parents hated public
schools and considered them to be a form of Communism, but none of the non
Catholic private schools would accept Quincy due to his uneven grades at
Chesterbrook Academy, so his parents reluctantly enrolled him in the local
public school. Fortunately his friend Timothy also went to Mclean.

      Quincy rubbed some underarm deodorant through his hairy armpits. He
thumped at his Adam's Apple with his fingers and made a gargling trill, his
deep voice resonating through the steamy bathroom air. He then quickly
brushed his teeth, got dressed in his room, and went downstairs to
breakfast. As he was halfway down the stairs, he suddenly froze as another
feeling of being caged came over him. He grabbed his arms, and as he did
so, he could faintly hear a woman's voice in his head.It only lasted for a
split second, but it sounded like a young girl in very great distress. A
sob then echoed loudly in his head and he gasped and lost his balance. He
then loudly tumbled down the remaining stairs and landed in the foyer,
hitting the back of his head painfully against the floor.

      Steve and Carol came running into the foyer. Carol was in her
bathrobe but Steve was dressed in the dark suit that he liked to wear on
Capitol Hill. A white napkin was tucked under his collar, forming an
improvised bib.

"Quincy! Quincy are you hurt?" Carol asked frantically as she knelt down
next to him.

"I'm OK, I guess..." Quincy moaned as he rubbed the back of his head.

"What happened, Son?" Steve asked. "Did you slip on a step?"

"Yeah, I did..." He replied.

His parents helped Quincy up. He felt all sore and bruised. "Do you want a
Tylenol?" His mom asked.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I'll bring you some water too." She said as she went into the
kitchen. Steve then walked over to Quincy and leaned close to him.

"Another one?"

"Yes." Quincy replied.

"We'll talk about it when I get back tonight." Steve said whispered before
he returned to the kitchen.

After a very brief recuperation (about five minutes) and a quick breakfast
of corn flakes and two Pop Tarts, Quincy was standing at the bus stop near
his house with the two other kids in his neighborhood who went to his
school. The bus arrived and in no time he was walking towards the front
entrance of his school, where Timothy was waiting for him as usual. Unlike
Quincy, Timothy still looked about the same as he did when they first met
just prior to starting sixth grade. He was a little bigger, but his voice
still hadn't changed and he still wore the same goofy looking nerd
clothes. They both had backpacks on.

"Hey Quince." Timothy said.

"Hey."

They entered the building and made their way down the hallway.

"So did you get my email?" Timothy asked.

Quincy laughed. "Yeah, that was funny." Timothy had sent Quincy a link of
an old lady in California or somewhere who did stand up comedy, and was
pretty raunchy to boot.

"My Mom found that video on YouTube. Apparently its some crazy old lady who
started in her nursing home and..."

"Hey Quincy! What's happenin' Man?" A tall black kid suddenly appeared out
of the crowd of kids and gave Quincy a high five.

"'Sup Charles!" Quincy smiled. The kid was Charles Moore. Quincy had shot
up over the last year to just under six feet, so he was practically drafted
into playing on the school's Freshman Basketball team. Charles was on the
team with him.

"Hey, I know you gonna be early to practice with Langley comin' up this
Friday!"

"You bet, Dog!" Quincy said in a fake Ebonic accent. Timothy turned away
and squinted his eyes shut.

"We gonna KILL them Motherfuckers ! See ya Quince!" Charles said as he
walked down the hall.

"Why do you have to act all Black when Charles is around?" Timothy asked
after they resumed walking.

"I don't do that! What are you talking about?"

"Well I mean...It's like every time Charles is around you're all 'yo yo yo'
and whatnot."

"I'm just trying to communicate, Timothy! And what does 'whatnot' mean?
That's like something my Grandmother says."

"It's just an expression."

"Yeah, one from 80 years ago." They got to where Quincy's first period
class was. "Alright Timothy. I'll see you UGHHHH...!"

Quincy all of a sudden started to reel. He began rubbing his arms and
flinching about nervously.

"Quincy, are you alright?" Timothy asked.

Quincy's eyes were darting around the hallway. A group of Juniors passing
by stopped and started to stare.

"I've got to get out..." Quincy muttered.

"Quincy?" Timothy asked as he walked over.

"LET ME OUT!" Quincy suddenly yelled and the hallway went quiet. Timothy
stared at Quincy with confused concern as Quincy reached out and braced
himself against the wall. The bell then rang signifying the beginning of
first period. A burly man then came over and stood next to Quincy.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Mr. Cassidy." Timothy replied. Come on Quincy, let's get to
class." Timothy said. Mr. Cassidy was the school wrestling coach and he
bore an uncanny resemblance to Mike Holmgren. Quincy then went right into
his classroom since it was right there. The other students began scurrying
to their respective classes.

Timothy began walking away towards his classroom but soon felt a hand clamp
down on his shoulder.

"Not so fast, Mr. O'Neil!" He heard Mr. Cassidy's nasty voice
say. Mr. Cassidy was also Timothy's gym teacher.

Timothy smiled wanly as he looked up at the hulking brute. "Yes?" He
managed to get out meekly.

"I believe that you are in violation of school rules by being in the
hallway after the bell has rung."

Timothy immediately wondered why he hadn't gone after any of the other
kids, but he was used to this sort of thing happening. All of those other
kids played sports, so of course he was going to be the one Cassidy picked
on.

"OK." Timothy said passively.

"Detention, Mr. O'Neil. After school! See you then! Now get to class, and
your teacher may give you more detention too!"

Timothy sighed dejectedly, and also wondered how an educator could have
such bad grammar.

Timothy spent detention doing homework and trying to avoid the attention of
a sullen group of upperclassman who all looked like future stars of
"Lockdown USA". After detention was over he decided to walk by the gym
where Quincy would be finishing basketball practice. As he arrived, he saw
Quincy sitting on the bleachers while the rest of the team was filing into
the locker room. He looked utterly dejected.

"Hey Quincy. Are you taking the bus or is your Mom picking you up?"

Quincy sat and said nothing. The coach then came out of the locker room and
walked over to where Quincy was.

"Are you sure you're OK, Quincy?" the coach asked.

"Yeah Coach Mendez. Thanks" Quincy mumbled. Coach Mendez looked back
worried at Quincy away as he walked slowly back to the locker room.

"What happened, Quincy?" Timothy asked after the coach was gone.

Quincy shot Timothy an angry look. "Nothing. Let's go!" He said curtly as
he got up quickly and began walking briskly out the door.

"You're not going to clean up or anything?" Timothy asked as they walked
out the gym into the hallway.

"Doesn't look like it." Quincy replied.

"So what happened this morning?"

"Will you stop bugging me?"

"So I'm not allowed to ask? I mean, you freaked out pretty bad and I think
you did again at practice..."

Quincy grabbed Timothy by his sweater and slammed him up against the
lockers with a loud clatter. Timothy stared wide eyed into Quincy's angry
teenaged face.

"Leave me alone, Timothy! You hear me? Go to your bus and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Quincy dropped Timothy onto the ground and stormed off. Timothy picked
himself up and brushed himself off as he looked around to see if anyone saw
what happened. Relieved that no one apparently did, he scurried to his bus,
making sure to avoid Quincy at all peril.

Timothy rode home in silence. He was used to Quincy's mood swings and bad
temper, but this seemed different this time. He was also concerned about
that fit Quincy had earlier. He decided to wait for Quincy to forgive him
and then he might try again to find out what was going on.  Timothy arrived
back to the townhouse that he lived in. He let himself in through the front
door and into the foyer.  "Mom I'm home!" Timothy yelled as he dropped his
backpack to the floor.  "I'm in the kitchen! Come in here, we have to
talk!"  Timothy walked into the kitchen and went right towards the pantry
to where the Fig Newton's were. His mother Pamela was sitting at the table
with her usual cup of tea and Weight Watchers carrot cake. She slowly
dunked the teabag up and down as she watched Timothy's pillaging.
"Come. Sit" She said.  Timothy looked at her concerned with his eyes
wide. He realized something was up. He took a handful of Fig Newton's with
him as he sat at the table opposite of his mother.  "What's up? Timothy
asked as he popped one of the cookies into his mouth.  "Your father had to
leave today, and it might be for a while this time."  "I'm not surprised. I
knew he was leaving again when I saw his dossier lying around the other
day."  "It could be up to three months." Pamela said as she began digging
into her purse that was hanging from the back of her chair.  "Is it the
Middle East again?"  She took a pack of Salem's out of her purse, tapped
one out and put it into her mouth.  "You know we aren't supposed to know
that, Timothy!" She said sardonically as she lit up.  "Oh Mom! You were
doing so well!" Timothy whined as she took a drag.  "Sorry they were out of
gum!"  "Well I'm going to my room then because I don't want to get asthma!"
Timothy said crossly as he got up and grabbed the remaining Fig
Newton's. Timothy's mom had been struggling to quit smoking for six months,
and he knew she was starting up again because she was stressed about Dad's
mission, but that was still no excuse.  Pamela took a deep drag and mashed
the cigarette out in the potted fern on the counter behind her.  "There!
It's out!" She said as she began coughing out the big plume of smoke she
had just inhaled.  Timothy went over and gently patted her on her back with
a smile. They hugged for a brief second and Pamela gave out a loud sigh.
"You're all I have now when your father goes away." She said as she let go
of Timothy and walked over to the stove to start getting dinner ready.  "Do
you need any help with dinner?" Timothy asked.  "No. You need to go do your
homework! Dinner will be at six and why are you home so late anyway?"
Timothy looked to the floor in shame. "I had detention."  "Detention?
Again? Why?!"  "It was Coach Cassidy again! I was in the hallway helping
Quincy after he had some seizure or something!"  "Oh. Is Quincy all right?"
"I guess..."  "Well that's twice now! You never used to get in trouble!"
"Coach Cassidy has it out for me!" I can't help it!"  "Well please figure
out a way that you can help it. I was hoping to at least go until November
before another parent/teacher conference!"  Timothy put his head down and
retreated from the kitchen and into the sanctuary of his bedroom. He took
his I-Phone out of his desk and began playing an online game as he sat up
on his bed. After a few minutes the phone rang. He knew it was Quincy
before he saw the number because Quincy was the only person who called him.
"Hey Quincy." Timothy said hesitantly.  "Hey Timothy." He heard Quincy
say. "Sorry."  "That's all right," Timothy said. They had been through this
ritual many times.  "Cool. See you in school tomorrow."  "Bye." Timothy
said as he disconnected and went back to his game.  Quincy closed his eyes
in pain as he hung up the phone and hung his head down. He was sitting
cross legged on his bed. He was still in his school clothes and even had
his shoes on. He was trembling violently as if he were freezing but he was
also sweating at the same time. Images of pain, humiliation, imprisonment,
and torture were tearing through his mind in agonizing waves. He wanted to
tell Timothy about how much he was suffering when he called him, but he
didn't understand what was happening enough to tell Timothy anything.
Slowly, silently, Quincy took the red blanket that was folded up at the
foot of his bed, and draped it completely over his head...

			     End of Chapter 1