Date: Wed, 16 Sep 2015 15:12:36 -0700
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rough Edges  Chapter 9

Welcome Back. This chapter is mine so please ask my permission to copy it
for other use. It is fictional and nobody in it exists or ever existed.
Please donate to Nifty to keep the archive healthy and free.

 In the last chapter, Phil stunned Larry by punching him in the solar plexus.
In this chapter we learn the reason behind the sucker punch. Also, more of
Mayfield's alumni make cameo appearances as Coach Sanders prepares
for the State A Baseball Tournament.

I love receiving reader email.
Douglas
thehakaanen@hotmail.com

CHAPTER 9
THE GANG

<Larry Sanders-The ending of Chapter 8>

When we entered the corridor, we were greeted by Phil, who gave us a
look of disdain. I thought he was going to attack Ben, because he was
different and quiet. But, as I've found out in more than one wild wrestling
match, Ben was strong and supple.  I don't know why, but was surprised by
how much shorter Phil was than me and Ben, as if that made him less of a
threat. I let myself focus on that thought as I asked him, as politely as I
could, what he wanted.

"This," he said forcefully, as he pistoned his right fist into my gut. He turned
and walked out the side door as the surprise and force of his blow dropped
me to my knees. His attack knocked the breath out of me and I found
myself unable to draw a new one.

<Phil Miller>

Saturday of State Tournament weekend always seems to have an air of
chaos about it. Nobody has played a game yet, so of course nobody has
been eliminated. With both the A and B tournaments being played at Gesa
Stadium in Pasco, there were eight high school teams in the area and,
including us, there were three teams staying at our hotel.

The opening game was scheduled for 10 a.m, with two B teams going at it.
We were scheduled to play Cascade Ridge High School at one, followed by
the other B game at four and the second A game at seven.  For years the
tournament finals were held on Friday and Saturday, but parents wanted to
be able to watch tournament baseball without taking a day off from work,
resulting in the Saturday/Sunday format. Because three classifications
played at Safeco Field in Seattle when tournaments could be held at that
venue, those tournaments stretched from Friday through Sunday.

Breakfast was scheduled for 8:30, which elicited some moans from teens
who would just as soon sleep in as get up early to eat. "Coach Miller and I
were talking about breakfast at seven," Larry told them. That provoked
even louder moans. I knew that Larry was stretching the truth a bit, but he
wanted the players to think they were getting a break. While we had
mentioned a seven o'clock breakfast time, it was during a moment in which
we expressed our gratitude for not having the 10 a.m. game.

After a carb-loaded breakfast, which we hoped would stick to the ribs of our
players since they would be getting only a light lunch before our early
afternoon game, I retreated to the lobby where I ran across two more of our
Mustang alumni: Connor and Scott.

"Hey, coach," Connor called out. He came over to me with a big smile on
his face and stunned me with a tight hug. Connor and I had had more than
our share of battles during the three years he played summer ball for me.
But, as Larry has pointed out more than once, Connor and Marty were two
of my favorites—I was the one who liked the bad boys.

While Connor graduated after our first state championship, Scott was a key
player on both title winners. He was either our ace pitcher or our number
two pitcher depending on who was rating them and when. I would rank him
as our number two with Eric as our ace, even though he had more pitching
talent than Eric did. Eric was simply a smarter and better pitcher than his
former boyfriend. The two were very tight into their seventh grade year until
Scott realized his sexual preference included the female members of the
species. Scott gave me a friendly, but somewhat more restrained greeting.

"So, what's with the giant hug?" I asked Connor.

"I had to show my appreciation for my favorite coach," he grinned.

"You rate me over Coach Sanders?"

"Oh, hell no. Um...no offense, coach.  It's just you're the first person to
really call me on my bullshit. You never let me get away with shit, starting
right with that suspension." I had suspended Connor for insubordination
after our first practice together.

"Call him on his bullshit again," Scott teased. "He's still full of it."

That was true as he somehow managed to rate Larry and me each ahead
of the other. Only a master bullshitter could manage that.

Scott and Connor had never been close during their time in high school.
They were teammates, but Connor being a grade ahead of Scott was a big
factor in hindering their friendship. Now Scott is finishing his Associate's
Degree at Centralia Community College while Connor is driving a truck for
Noah's father and taking some classes at the college. Connor is also the
father of a one-year-old girl, Kari, a factor that made him more mature and
responsible in a hurry.

"Hey, coach, Marcie and I are going to tie the knot in August," Connor
exclaimed.

"Trying to make the little one legitimate are we?" I laughed.

"It's about time," Scott said. "She's almost old enough to be a flower girl at
the wedding."

"Shut up, dude. Just remember who used to out-drink who back in the day."

"Used to?" I asked. "Do you mean he's now kicking your ass, Connor?"

"Little Kari has me on a two-beer a day maximum diet," Connor said. "Even
Scott can beat two beers. I'm just glad I'm not Marty where it's all or
nothing."

It is hard to imagine Connor being so responsible. He was a big-time party
boy in high school. There never was enough beer and weed for him. Unlike
Marty, who's been clean since he was fourteen, Connor isn't an alcoholic,
but he could drink hard and heavy as a teen.

"Where are you going to school in the fall?" I asked Scott, assuming he was
heading for a four-year college.

"I've been accepted to Western, Central, Wazzu, and even Oregon State."
He was referring to Western and Central Washington Universities and
Washington State.

"And the winner will be?"

"Probably Wazzu. Any college that can put up with the likes of Marty is my
kind of place."

"Marty isn't a party boy," I said.

"No he's not, but he's still Marty."

"Hey, don't go knocking my bro, Marty," Connor scolded.

"Oh, yeah. Rumor has it the two of you..." Scott looked at me and grinned.

Connor quickly changed the subject. "I'm heading for school in the fall." I
chuckled inwardly at the change of topic. I happened to know from a
reliable source that Connor had taken Marty's ass back in their high school
days.

"That's great, Connor. Where and what about your job?"

"Centralia CC. Seth says he can work my driving schedule around my
classes. The good news is that I won't be doing any overnight runs."

Connor going to school was maybe as big of a surprise as Scott sticking
with school. I'd like to think that the success of our baseball program
rubbed off on the young men we coached in all aspects of their lives.

"We'll be behind the Mustang dugout at the game," Scott said. "Tell Coach
Sanders we stopped by and to kick ass this afternoon."

I watched the two leave the hotel. I know they both had their affairs with
other boys back in high school and middle school, but were now as straight
as could be. Connor was a father and Scott could have been, but the girl he
knocked up last year elected to have an abortion. Yet, I couldn't help but
wonder if maybe those two randy young men might have had a few rolls in
the hay with each other recently. It gave me a vicarious thrill to think about
it.

Larry and Coach Hart were dealing with last minute things. I was given the
job of being the team chaperone, not that they really needed one—they
were good kids. Still, they were teenagers, and even good teens need a
watchful eye when they traveled in packs.

I sat on a leather chair in the lobby. My early sixth grade days swirled
through my head. It was strange how this trip was somehow conjuring up
so many memories of the past. Larry told me last night that he had been
experiencing the same thing.

As I'd been saying, I was a mess when I started sixth grade. My father was
pretty much a hopeless drunk. He was drinking with my twelve-year-old
brother Keegan, who was also a hopeless drunk. Dad tried getting me to
drink with them, but I wouldn't do it. My mom was hooked on pills. My
oldest brother, Troy, was trying to hold things together, but he was only
fifteen and he and dad were barely talking to each other. Add to that my
best friend Andy was gone and I told myself that I had reason to hate
everything and everyone.

Troy was the only positive factor in my life. Somehow, in all the mess going
on, he'd gone from being a preteen punk, to a wonderful, loving brother. He
was still a tough dude, but he wasn't afraid to love. I was sleeping in his
bed with him almost every night. It wasn't like we had sex every time; I just
liked the warmth and comfort and safety of his smooth, hard, teen body.
When we did have sex, it was a special bonus. Our sex was mutual
masturbation, humping, and sucking each other off.

Anal sex was not part of the equation. I don't know if I even knew about
anal sex at that time. I'm certain Troy did, I mean he was fifteen.

With all of the bad shit going on I didn't figure on even more happening.
Two days after school started dad made an announcement at dinner that
shook us to the core. "I'm going to be deployed next month," he informed
us. Mom, Troy, Keegan, and I sat in stunned silence waiting for him to
finish. "I'm going to Korea for six months."

"Korea?" Troy shouted out. "What the fuck is in Korea?"

"Troy, watch your language," mom said automatically.

"He's leaving us to go to fucking Korea, mom. At least he could go to the
Middle East and shoot at people. What the fuck is in Korea?" Troy asked
again.

"North Korea," dad answered as if that explained everything.

"Fuck."

"Troy, your mother is right...tone down your fucking language."

I often wondered if dad was aware of how stupid he sounded sometimes,
and I don't mean when he was drunk. I knew he hadn't been drinking,
which made him sound stupider.

Troy ignored dad like he'd just ignored mom. "How fucking long will you be
gone?"

"Son, maybe I should slap the shit out of you."

"You'll have a tough time explaining your bruised face at work tomorrow."

Dad scowled but said nothing. Maybe the alpha in the family wasn't dad at
all—maybe it was Troy.

"Six months is what they say," dad finally answered.

"Which means it could be longer?" mom asked.

"Yes, that means it could be longer."

You would think that with all the grief my father caused the family we'd all
be standing up and cheering the news. But mom was upset because she
was losing her alpha male husband who controlled her life. Troy was upset
because he knew that at fifteen he was going to be the man of the house. I
was angry because I was being abandoned by somebody I loved for the
second time in two months. And Keegan was upset because—well, I don't
know what went on in Keegan's mind. I guess he was losing his source of
almost daily booze, not to mention his warped relationship with dad.

As I said, my reaction was one of anger.  First Andy and now dad. Yes,
there were times I hated him, but he was still my father. Every boy wants
his father, even if he is a flawed individual. In my mind I wanted my father
to be my hero, and I would often fantasize about him being the person I
wanted him to be rather than the person he was. Maybe that's how I got
through the bad days, by thinking today would be the day he would morph
into my perfect dad.

The result of my anger was me acting out at home and at school. Looking
back at it, I'm sure I was trying to get dad's attention and create a situation
where he wouldn't want to leave, even if it meant my facing his wrath.

At school, I tried to hang out with Carlos and Skyler and their buddies. I
figured I had to prove myself to the pack once again by taking on Carlos in
a fight and kicking his ass.  We met after getting off of the bus a couple of
days after dad's announcement. As soon as the bus left I punched Carlos
in the gut and knocked him to the ground. I fought off Skyler after he
accused me of cheating and jumped me.

Instead of being accepted I was ostracized for "fighting dirty". As a result I
became even more of a loner, taking out my frustrations on my teachers. I
knew I was on the verge of getting suspended or even expelled.

I was sitting alone at lunch when Larry walked up to me. He gave me that
goofy smile of his and told me I didn't have to eat lunch alone. "You can
always have lunch with us," he exclaimed like he actually meant it.

The thought that first hit my mind was, why would I want to eat with that
dork and his geeky friends? Yeah, they were all jocks, but that didn't stop
them from being geeks. They were all too nice and they reminded me of
Andy.

I told him the first thing that came to my mind. "You can go fuck yourself."
He shrugged his shoulders and walked off.  I should have felt good about
what just happened, but for some reason I ended up feeling like shit.

While I wasn't surprised when Larry started ignoring me in homeroom, I
found myself somewhat disappointed by his behavior.  I wouldn't admit it to
myself, but I thought he was cute. His open, bubbly personality reminded
me of Andy and I didn't want anybody to remind me of Andy.  That and my
anger with the world at large kept me from reaching out to him. When I saw
Larry on the bus, I studiously ignored him, always pretending not to look at
him, when in reality I was. I desperately wanted him as a friend, but I wasn't
about to admit it, even to myself. As far as I was concerned, my big brother
Troy was the only friend I needed.

My resolve didn't last long. On Friday when I boarded the bus I saw Larry
sitting with his Asian friend, Jung, in the middle of the bus. I meant to look
away again, but for some reason I gave him an extra-long look. That look
sent a jolt through me that I hadn't felt since Andy left. Troy and I were
sexually active with one another, but just looking at Troy didn't turn me on.
That long look at Larry not only had my groin stirring, it also had my blood
boiling. I was furious that a boy, make that a boy I didn't even like, gave me
feelings that only Andy should have given me.

I ended up spending a lonely weekend. Troy went out with his girlfriend on
Friday while mom and dad headed for a tavern, leaving me and Keegan
alone at home. Being alone with Keegan was like being alone by myself.
He grabbed some beers out of dad's fridge and took them to his room.
About fifteen minutes later I detected the smell of marijuana. I hoped that
he would stay away from me, but I did not get my wish.

I was busy playing a video game, trying hard not to cry from loneliness,
when Keegan barged into my room without knocking. He was wearing only
a pair of droopy red and black striped boxers. They drooped so much I
could see his bare pubic area. I could also see the bulge of his boner
pushing out his underpants.

"Dude you need to get high with me," he announced.

"Fuck off. You know I don't do that shit."

"You've been drunk with me and Troy before."

"I only had a couple," I mumbled.

"Fuck you did. You couldn't even stand up."

I took a deep breath. I wanted him to get lost and leave me alone. "Get out
of my room."

"It's Troy's room, too. I know he'd fucking let me stay."

"Up yours, Keegan. I want you to leave."

He yanked down his boxers, revealing a boner in the neighborhood of four
inches that poked up above his hairless pubic region. "I'll leave if you suck
my cock."

"Won't happen."

"Doesn't do me much good having a faggot for a brother if he won't give me
a blow job."

"At least I don't spend all day stoned on fucking weed," I retorted.

Keegan tried taking a swing at me, but he got tangled in his pulled-down
boxers and stumbled. He was a crappy fighter at best and being high didn't
help his skills any. I got up out of my chair and gave him a push which was
all it took to send him sprawling to the floor.

He lay on his back and started giggling. "I hate you," he said, and started
laughing harder. He kicked off his boxers, turned onto his hands and
knees, and crawled out of my room, giggling and laughing all the way,
giving me a view of his pink pucker. "I hate Phil," was the last thing I heard
from him that night. At least I didn't have to suck his dick. I almost went
downstairs to take a beer out of the refrigerator.

On Saturday night, dad was home and mom was in bed. Troy was out
somewhere, probably staying the night. I don't know when he'd come home
the night before because he didn't wake me up.

I knew what was going to happen in the living room. I wished Andy was still
around so I could leave. I wished I didn't hate Larry so I could accept his
overtures of friendship. I wished I had a dad who wasn't a drunk. I even
wished I was dead, but thankfully that thought didn't linger.

My curiosity finally got the better of me and I went down the stairs to spy on
dad and Keegan who were in the living room drinking. I could see empty
beer cans on the floor.

I was trying to stay in the shadows, but dad saw me. "Quit hiding and step
into the room," he ordered. I was afraid to move. "Into the room now, you
little shit, or I'll beat the crap out of you."

I stepped out of the shadows and into the living room. Troy wasn't around
to protect me, but I didn't think I needed him. I might be a little eleven-year-
old, but I was strong and tough and knew how to fight. That didn't stop me
from being afraid of my father, however. I was wearing a long Seahawks t-
shirt covering a pair of white briefs. I wished I had at least put on shorts
before sneaking downstairs, but I hadn't planned on being seen.

"Look at your faggot brother," dad told Keegan. "He's almost undressed for
action."

"Phillip is a faggot," Keegan slurred.

"Get a beer," dad ordered. "You're gonna get drunk tonight."

I stood in the middle of the living room saying nothing.

"Get a beer and fucking drink it," dad ordered again.

I turned and ran to the stairs, leaped them two at a time, entered my room,
slamming the door as I did so, and flopped on my bed crying. I waited
patiently for dad to follow me. I was ready to kick his ass if he did. I hated
him and I hated Keegan for being shitheads and I hated Troy for leaving
me. I hated Andy for moving and I hated Larry for trying to be my friend.
Every day I hated somebody, or something—or maybe it was everybody
and everything. I could hardly wait for dad to leave for Korea.

++++++++++++

On Monday morning Larry was sitting in one of the middle seats on the bus
again. There was an open seat in the third row and I sat next to a sixth
grade girl. She looked at me like I was some piece of raw sewage and I'm
sure I returned the look. At least I didn't have to look at Larry.

In homeroom Larry and I went through our ignoring each other routine. I
thought about asking Mr. Hunter if I could be moved to a seat in a different
part of the classroom. Being moved to a new homeroom would be even
better. At lunch on Tuesday Larry went past my table, but didn't say
anything. I was certain he walked by me just to piss me off.

I got my revenge by giving him my best tough guy look as I got on the bus
after school. I glared at him, and then looked away, which had me staring
directly at Jung. I swore that Jung had been checking me out in the
showers in PE. I wanted to kick his ass almost as much as I wanted to kick
Larry's.

The routine didn't change on Wednesday. We ignored each other on the
bus in the morning, ignored each other in homeroom, and ignored each
other in the lunchroom, even though he once again walked by my table on
purpose. Larry likes to joke now that we were in our flirting phase. I think
that is only partly true. For the most part, I think I was in my angry-at-the-
world phase.

On Thursday morning only the front seats were empty by the time I got on
the bus. I took the front seat, which meant I didn't have to deal with Larry at
all. A seventh grade girl took the seat next to me. She obviously liked sitting
next to me as much as I liked sitting next to her, which was not at all.

Skyler and Carlos had been sitting a couple of seats behind me. When we
got to school they timed their entry into the aisle to let the girl who'd been
sitting next to me enter the aisle. Carlos blocked my way saying, "Meet us
in the foyer before you do anything else."

My first reaction was to say no. I didn't like being ordered around by the
likes of Carlos and Skyler. But I wanted a friend desperately and found
myself pleased they wanted to talk to me after what had happened
between us earlier. Then it occurred to me that there might be ulterior
motives at work.

I found Carlos and Skyler sitting on a bench with a couple of other sixth
grade boys. One was a big kid with black hair and dark peach fuzz on his
upper lip and below his ragged sideburns. His name was Tim. I had him in
a couple of classes. I thought he was as mean as a snake and just about
as personable. I didn't know the other boy who had shaggy blond hair. He
was in my home room, but I had no other classes with him. He never said
anything in class except when the teacher called on him. He was so
nondescript I didn't even know his name. I wondered what he was doing
with the likes of Carlos, Skyler, and Tim.

"We decided we wanted you to be our friend, even if you cheat at fighting,"
Skyler announced.

On the one hand I was pleased to have passed muster with the tough kids
in the sixth grade, but on the other hand I wasn't sure I wanted to be their
friend. Once again my loneliness won out, causing me to nod to show that I
was willing to listen to more.

"Cheating at fighting might be a good thing if you're on our side," Tim said.
Tim's voice was already starting to break and sounded more like an eighth
grader than a sixth grader.

"All you have to do is pass a test and you're in," Carlos informed me.

"Kind of like an initiation," Tim said.

"What if I don't want to be initiated?" I asked. "What if I just want to be a
friend?" I couldn't imagine a true friend requiring an initiation for friendship.
Andy certainly didn't, and he was all about friendship.

"We are the baddest, meanest assholes in the sixth grade, maybe the
whole school." Skyler boasted. "Us wanting you to join us means we think
you're a bad and mean asshole just like us."

He had a point. I'd started the school year with a chip on my shoulder that
was still there. I wanted to impress everybody by beating up the toughest
kids in the school. I'd made my point by sucker punching Carlos and
fighting off Skyler. I let them know that nobody, and I mean nobody,
messed with me. I was Phillip Miller and I was as bad as anybody.

"And to join our gang you gotta be initiated," Carlos finished up.

I gave them my meanest stare for a few seconds. "Okay, what do I have to
do?" At that point the bell rang.

"We'll tell you at lunch. Sit with us," Tim ordered.

I walked to home room with the blond kid whose name I couldn't
remember. "I'm Phil," I told him, hoping he would reply with his name.

Instead he just grunted. "I know who you are." But he didn't tell me his
name.

While I was ignoring Larry during homeroom, I remembered that the
mystery boy's name was Keith. When I sat with him and the rest of the
gang at lunch, I made sure to say his name. He appeared to be
unimpressed with my new knowledge.

"We got a list of things you need to do to be our friend." Tim handed me a
piece of notebook paper covered with the big scrawl of a tween. I was
tempted to get up and walk away, but I wanted friends, and they seemed to
be all that was available. I seemed to conveniently forget how I'd been
brushing off Larry's overtures.

I looked at the list and shook my head. "I can't do this," I told them. "This
shit is wrong."

"Fine, but don't expect any favors from us," Tim told me. He seemed to
have become the leader of the small band.

I pretended to look over the list again. There were four initiation tasks I
needed to fulfill. The part of me that had become the catcher and de facto
leader of my baseball team said to get up and walk away—that I was a
better person than what I would become if I fulfilled the demands on the list.
But the angry, bitter part of me said I needed their acceptance—that I
needed to belong no matter what the price.

I was eleven. I was young. I was lacking in the kind of moral guidance that
would have led me to do the right thing. I looked at the four boys sitting with
me and agreed to do what was necessary to become initiated.

Except for Tim, the gang left the table, bussed their trays, and headed
outside. "You can do the first one today."

"He's not an asshole. Why should I do that to him? I'd rather punch out
somebody who gives you guys a lot of shit."

"Him and his friends are faggots and queers and homos," Tim said. "He's
always checking me out in the showers in PE. Probably because I gots a
big wiener and gots hair down there."

I wanted to laugh at him calling his cock a wiener, but I kept my
composure. I knew what Tim was talking about because it was like Larry
was always was checking me out in homeroom, or in the lunchroom, or on
the bus. "Okay, when do you want me to do it?" I asked.

"Now."

We bussed our trays and walked into the corridor between the lunchroom
and the athletic and play fields. "If he comes this way, hit him like Carlos
said you like to do. Right in the gut without saying nothing first," Tim
instructed.

"And if he doesn't come this way?"

"He will, I can feel it."

Tim dropped into the background. His feelings ended up being right. Larry
and his weird friend with the Mohawk walked into the corridor. I took a
couple of steps over to him.

He looked at me without fear. "Hey, Phil what do you want?"

"This," was all I said, and I plowed my fist into his gut. Before he could
recover, Tim and I charged out of the door to the fields.

NEXT: Semifinal