*** 20th June 2004, 07:34 pm ***   ‘A day can be full of miracles, delightful experiences and adventures. It can make you happy or sad - it can make you feel free or cramped - it can give or take - you can be with people or stay alone, be loved or rejected. You never know what will happen during the next day - it’s not reliable nor predictable - I hate that. I have lost two of the most important people in my life in a single day - my dad and my little brother Robbie. They have been taken by a single day - taken by other people - people that didn’t love them as I did and to whom they had no meaning. People that were able to turn a wonderful day into a nightmare. That’s why I mistrust every day ahead of me and rather plan to be alone, because my days have seemed to be unbearably empty ever since. There are only two things that keep me going - the sun and my Mom. The sun rises every day, constantly. No matter what will happen or who you’ll be meeting - whether you see it or not, it will rise. Like the sun, my Mom is there for me all the time, never asking for anything in return....’ “That’s nonsense, what the fuck are you writing?” Ryan Peter Harris cursed at the mirror above his desk, throwing the pen away and ripping the page out of his diary. “RYYAAN?!” “YES MOM?” the boy turned away from the mirror and shouted towards the wooden door left ajar. “Who are you talking to?” “Nobody, I’m writing.” “Please come down...dinner’s ready!” “Okay Mom!” One last time the young boy turned his head to the mirror, looked into the grey-blue eyes above his slightly freckled nose and doubtfully looked at the reflection in front of him, closing the diary he had been asked to use to document his emotions. “It’s useless” he said with a timid voice and kissed the picture of his father and brother pinned against the wall next to the mirror. The young fellow jumped up, quickly put on a white shirt and dark tracksuit pants then headed downstairs his fluffy dark blond hair bouncing up and down on the way downstairs to satisfy his hunger. It was his mother’s much-loved Chinese food.... “Hey Mom, Hi Sharon!” “Hi my dear...” Susan Harris, mother of this beautiful 12 year-old five foot tall cub said, kissing him on the forehead “...why can’t you walk the stairs quietly? I have asked you a thousand times now!” “Sorry Mom, I don’t mean to do it.” “And why are you wearing this old tracksuit, you have so many nice pants?” “I like them, they're comfortable.” Sighing “Sharon, what do I do with him?” she asked her sister-in-law, begging for a clue. In return she only shrugged, tenderly stroking Ryan’s left cheek while he leaned in on the bright wooden table that complemented the rest of the modern white kitchen with all its shiny appliances and latest kitchen gadgets. “That’s not helping Sharon!” “I know Susan, sorry, but my dearest nephew is so sweet - I just can’t be mad at him for whatever problem YOU have.” “See Mom, I’m not that bad, am I!” “No, of course you’re not - come on, sit down now, we are going to enjoy Kung Pao CHICKEN. It’s delicious.” “Maybe. And by the way, it wasn’t a thousand times!” Ryan inserted with a sheepish grin on his face. “Don’t be so such a smarty pants and set the table, please!” “Shall I serve the drinks?” asked Sharon “That’d be perfect.” For a minute everybody was busy, running around in the large kitchen laying out things like wine, water, glasses, soy sauce, forks and knives on the table. As Ryan finished his job - his mother still being in a hurry to get everything on the plates before it got cold - he looked out of the big window that framed the view towards the front garden. Nearly two and a half years ago the Harrises had moved from Portland, Maine in the US to Eastbourne in England, close to the coast 60 miles south of London. They were lucky to have found such a luxurious house in Holywell Close, located only five minutes from Bede’s prep school and the same distance from the University of Brighton where the CACL gym club was. Ryan had been a gifted gymnast since he was six years old. He had made good progress and was quite muscular for his age, but hadn’t attended any training sessions for about half a year now. Susan had always been worried that her beloved son might give up on it, given the bad things that had happened. For a while he did keep it up, even after they moved to the U.K.. And then, suddenly, and for reasons unknown, he had stopped dead in his tracks. Susan never found out why; Ryan avoided this topic whenever it came up. However, in moments like this, when Ryan looked through the window and daydreamed, or sat on the lawn watching the sea from South Downs National Park, ghosts from his past could overwhelm him. You never knew. It was unpredictable whether or not they would hit him again. It was like a lottery - every day filled with uncertainty. One second he was the happy, charming and lively youngster and the next he was replaced by a sad, precarious creature filled with bitter grief. “Ryan! Stop daydreaming and sit down!” Without any further words the three sat down and enjoyed the wonderful dish Sharon had prepared. Much to the dismay of his mother, Ryan drowned the Kung Pao Chicken in soy sauce - he just loved the mild salty taste of it. With satisfying moans, the boy gobbled down the meal and pleased his mother with a quick “That’s so good, Mom!” in between - the world was perfect for another moment. They had learned to be thankful for each and every minute of freedom, of peace and harmony without harsh memories and the mistrust of the outside world. About an hour later the dishwasher was making slurping noises in the background and the three snuggled up on the light gray leather couch in the living room listening to the soft voices of Randy Vanwarmer and The Birds. The room was lit by flickering aromatic candles Sharon had brought as a present for Susan, who loved flowers and candles. They produced a shimmering and warm atmosphere along with a slight scent of lavender, which calmed them down - the day slowly saying goodnight with a glass of good wine for the adults. Both women softly caressed the little big boy between them, who tried to be tough, but in fact was very vulnerable after all he had gone through. Ryan leaned in on his mother and closed his eyes, feeling the love he sometimes needed to get through the day. It was Sunday and Ryan knew that Sharon had to leave the next day to take care of her own son Jason who was waiting for his mom to return to Maine in the United States. And while Ryan in his mind repeated the name “Jason” again and again, slowly and overly conscious, his heart skipped a wonderful beat to the delightful emotions he recognized and the images that appeared before his inner eye. The boys had always had a strong bond between them. They had shared both tears and joy, and felt dependent on each other, even though they could only be together for a couple of times a year after the move. The terrifying past had brought them together very close.   *** 3 years earlier - 11th September 2001 - 10:12 AM ***   “MOM? ARE YOU HOME?” Ryan called opening the front door of their family home in Eastend, Portland ME, “MOOO-OOM!” “RYAN? What are you doing home?” said Susan, shouting more than speaking in a weird tone as she came running in from the living room, looking confused while holding the phone in her hands. Obviously she was worried about something, but Ryan had no idea what was going on. “They said, we have to go home straight home, and fast, because something happened, but they wouldn’t tell us what.” “Okay that’s good” she approached her son, tenderly but uncertainly ruffling through his hair. “Can you please go upstairs to your room?” A second of distraction came from the news anchor on TV, barely heard in the background “....this is a national tragedy, nobody could have ever imagined....” “Why Mom....what’s wrong?” Ryan asked anxiously. “I’ll tell you in a little while but first I have to make some phone calls....but the SHITTY LINES are busy all the time.” It was unusual for Ryan to hear his mother say things in such a harsh tone. There was trouble in the air; a blind person could have seen it. The quaver in her voice only added to the mysterious behavior of his mother and made it even more obvious. With a puzzled expression on his face, nine-year-old Ryan could not begin to imagine what this was all about. “What happened Mom?” he pleaded in a low whisper. “Go now...please!! I have to make this call!” With this quick and short command, the little boy turned around, dropped his backpack and sneakers by the front closet as usual, and without even visiting the fridge for a snack, headed upstairs to the bedroom he shared with his brother. But then, breakfast had not been long ago. He plopped down on his bed and looked over to his brother Robert’s Marvel figures collection. The sun shone through the window and warmed him up - shimmering dust dancing in front of his face. It was such a lovely day and yet something was wrong. Inside his blue between-seasons jacket, Ryan could feel the tension surrounding everyone: his mother, the people on the streets, the teachers and even his school mates. Powerless...clueless...fear slowly gripped his body. He just sat there for 5....10....15....20 minutes....cold sweat in his armpits, stomach tensed; forehead wrinkled; hands clenched to the green Portland Timbers blanket and his head spinning... “NOOOOOO....NOOOOO......NOOOOOO, PLEASE NOOoooo...” his mother screeched and wailed from the living room down below. Ryan, frozen like stone, could hear the handset banging on the wooden floor while his mother cried heartbreakingly. It was a piercing, unbearably painful sound that the little boy would never forget.   *** Today - 21st June 2004, 07:01 AM ***   “Hey my love, time to wake up!” Susan breathed to her son, softly kissing his forehead. “Nooo, please...I don’t wanna....five more minutes, okay?” The room was still dark from the closed shutters, which didn’t hold back the birds outside greeting the new day with their morning song. Pulling on his blue-white blanket, Susan’s son wrapped himself up and buried his bare upper body under the cover to ignore the wake-up call. “Sure Baby Bear” Ryan’s mother smiled, switched the little white bed lamp on and stroked her son’s cheek while he squinted. “Is Aunty Sharon gone, already?” “She left an hour ago.” Now Ryan was awake “What? Why didn’t you wake me, Mom?!” “You needed your sleep. Don’t worry, you’ll see her in a week.” Her boy just moaned as a week seemed so far away. He had at least wanted to hug her one last time, before she left - she meant a lot to him for all the love that she shared. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes then.” “No need to....I’m awake, now.” “Good, then I will see you downstairs in half an hour - and please take a shower!” she said leaving Ryan's room, which was located on the second floor. It was clean for a 12-year-old. There were some pictures of sunsets and local football teams on the plain white walls next to the stuffed bookshelf and a rack with a lot of goblets and medals from gymnastics competitions. Two framed family pictures complemented the neat impression. It looked like an interior decorator had prepared the house for sale, but for Ryan this was the way he wanted it. Even the collection of stones and shells from the coast was neatly positioned on the wooden cupboard next to his desk with the metal framed mirror above it. Except for the clothes from the day before, which Ryan had piled on the large red seat cushion next to his bed, everything looked well organized. The Xbox controllers were stored below the TV with their cords tightly wrapped and even his desk showed no sign of untidiness. Ryan liked to have his room clean and ordered. That made things so much more predictable – everything had its own place. Twenty minutes later Ryan strolled downstairs and headed towards the kitchen, still wearing his sleeping shorts and a shirt he had quickly put on - his messy hair in need of a shower. “Why aren’t you dressed?” his mother asked in a surprising tone as she saw her sleepyhead approaching the kitchen table, although she had already anticipated what was going on. “I don’t feel so good Mom.” “Why? What’s wrong?” “I don’t know. Feeling a bit weird and my stomach hurts.” Ryan’s tummy had proven to be the best indicator for emotional turmoil. Physically he was a strong and healthy kid, so there wasn’t much to really worry about these days, but for his short bouts of depression. Thank god, it didn’t happen so often anymore; but when it happened, he had his mother to help him through. “Is it because your aunt left without saying good-bye?” “No....I mean, I don’t know.” “Didn’t you sleep well?” “Not really - I woke up lot of times.” “Bad dreams again?” Ryan sometimes had dark nights when he would wake up screaming or sweaty, feeling cold and alone after a frightening nightmare, but this wasn’t about dreams. “No....don’t think so. It was too warm....” “Then why didn’t you open a window?” Ryan only shrugged, still standing next to his mother. “Could it be that your body is missing the gym training?” She couldn’t resist repeating this at every possible occasion, because her boy used to be more relaxed when he had worked out. “No, it’s not!” “Don’t you want to give it a try again someday? You are so good at it, you know that.” She really wanted to find out what had happened half a year ago that made him quit a sport he had once loved, but Ryan didn’t want to talk about it. “Mom, please...!” Susan came closer, wiped away his bangs and felt the boy’s forehead for any sign of temperature - it seemed normal. She had to admit that her little love looked a bit worn out though. Carefully moving her hand under his shirt she felt his still sculpted abs below his soft skin and pressed a bit here and there to see if her son showed any sign of pain. But he didn't complain about her probing “Hmm, you stay in bed today. But listen, I can’t be here all day. I have an important meeting with my possible new publisher in an hour a half and it could take a while.” “That’s okay, I’ll get back upstairs. Will you be writing a new book?” “I hope so darling. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Oh, I have to call Ms. Taylor now, or your school will file an absentee report, right?” “Yeah....fine.” Susan tried to be funny and cheer her son up, but it didn’t work. Most likely it was just one of those dark days again of which there had been so many in the last years. But since it had gotten better with every month this year, she was hopeful. “Here, take the phone with you, I have my cell and...you stay in bed!” “I will.” “...and in case it gets worse, call me immediately!” “Yes Mom!” “...and take your chocolate...” “Mo-om” the boy frowned “I’m fine. I just wanna get back to bed, okay?” “Sure...I love you. Wish me luck!” “I love you, too.” the boy said with a soft and exhausted voice heading upstairs to get further rest. Twenty minutes later, Susan hit the road to London, excited over her new writing opportunity. She was a successful novelist without a contract. But since they had a large reserve to live on, derived from her last book before 9/11, there was nothing financially to worry about. However, she needed something to do and writing would be a welcome change. The last two and a half years had been very hard for Ryan and her - overcoming fear, anger and pain. Still it had gotten better - slowly but constantly. She credited not only Dr. Clarke from the KindleKids Child Psychology Center in Eastbourne, but also her dead husband’s sister Sharon: Ryan’s aunt. They both helped wherever they could and that was priceless. The one thing Susan would never overcome though, was the loss of her younger son Robert, Ryan’s beloved brother. Whenever her thoughts went to him, she could cry instantly. But she had learned to bottle it up for the sake of her living son’s happiness and health. Nobody said life would be easy - especially in a world in which insane fanatic terrorists fly planes in buildings and erase thousands of lives for whatever political and religious reasons. But this summer she would give herself the time to face the past and heal, while her boy would spend his time with his aunt Sharon and cousin Jason in Waterville. With only one week to go, Ryan could hardly wait.   *** ***   It was 9:34 AM when Ryan opened his eyes and was again feeling much better, although his tummy was still a bit tense. He knew where it came from. It came from being emotionally overwhelmed. The battle he fought with himself continuously ever since he had lost half of his family. To him there was no way of thinking about it without feeling guilty - looking at it through his eyes, he could have changed everything. Ryan always thought of himself as part of the cause - but that’s another story. Today was a day like this - it was not sickness or feeling bad that Auntie Sharon had left without saying good bye. He knew he would see her and his lovely cousin in a week, which was the bright spot on a dark and cloudy day. He was sick of his tumultuous life, the voices in his head, the weights on his heart. He seethed with anger that was indiscriminately directed at everything, at God for letting bad things happen, at his mother for moving to the UK, so far away from his aunt and cousin, at the terrorists, at his father and brother for dying and leaving him behind, at himself... Yes, at himself...that was the worst. Ryan wasn't able to judge whether he had made the right or wrong decisions – he was full of self-doubts about his strength, his skills, what he liked or disliked. Why had he stopped gymnastics....just because of him...Gareth? Even if he wanted it to be different, Gareth Cooper was the reason Ryan had to give up gymnastics. Just thinking about that boy was driving him crazy. It made no sense. Nothing made sense anymore. He was so not worth it being just an ordinary boy in his gym class. OK, maybe better than ordinary: his looks, the way he moved, elegant, balanced, precise. The boy was competent, but no more so than Ryan himself. Between the two of them, Ryan knew he was the more experienced gymnast. So what was the deal with him? Did the new boy remind him of Jason? But Gareth was his own age while Jason was a year older. His cousin didn't have Gareth's impressive green eyes, his unruly sandy hair, his sculpted body. Jason's lips didn't curl in that same mischievous smile. From the first time they had met in gym, Gareth had exerted some invisible force, making him impossible to ignore.   *** Six months ago - 7th January 2003, 04:30 PM ***   “Ryan, push through! Keep your spine straight!” “I am!” “No, you’re not - you can do better. Try again!” Coach Thomas commanded, while the boy was exercising on the high bar in the gym club. He felt a bit weak that day and had not had the strength for the entire sequence. “I need a break, please.” the Harris boy said landing on the red soft gym mat gasping from the effort. He opened the Velcro of his gymnastic hand grips and tossed them down. “Okay, get something to drink - but not too much - you know the drill...Gareth, next!” With a high five the two boys passed each other. The CACL was an excellent gymnastics club where Ryan had learned a lot on top of what he already knew from his former teachers in the US. Some famous Olympic athletes had started their career here. Ryan was convinced that he was able to go that way as well - so were his coaches. But for the past couple of weeks he hadn’t been able to focus like before. None of the routines seemed to work out anymore. Until now he had always been able to forget about his worries and the past during his workouts, but something had changed. Ryan had been upset about his performance and didn’t know what had happened to make him so unfocussed. Was it Gareth? The new kid on the block was just another normal boy in his gymnastics class and yet Ryan got more and more distracted by his presence. They had two to three training sessions per week - it was an intensive course preparing them for the regional championships in London. What was wrong? The more they were in the gym together and the more Ryan watched him, the more he got sidetracked not knowing why. Twelve-year-old Gareth Cooper Jr. was a nice enough lad: attractive, slightly tanned, sometimes rosy-cheeked while exercising and standing at least a full inch taller than Ryan. He was more or less free of any blemish, but for the two tiny little birth marks below his left eye. They both had the same sandy hair - cut medium short - just long enough to touch their eyebrows with the same color of sand - but Gareth’s brows were more remarkable. Especially remarkable were the bigger boy’s eyes; piercing and thrilling. More important than his physical appearance, he was a funny, happy person that seemed to have his heart in the right place - he seemed to care. Well, most of the time. He was also pretty guarded when other boys were around, but that was just a tiny acceptable flaw. “Ryan, it’s your turn! Trainer’s waiting?” Mr. Cooper Jr. said. “Well done mate! You are better than me, already.” “No way! I’ll never be as good as you.” Gareth approached Ryan, gripped his left shoulder and brought his mouth close to the other boy’s ear “Hey, listen, what’s wrong with you - you’re not really with the program today, are you?” Ryan inexplicably felt excitement rise in his body due to the intense and unexpected closeness. It was scary in some ways, but interesting in others - he could feel the heat from Gareth’s body, hear his heavy breathing, nearly feel his pumping heart. His grip was strong and full of assurance. “Ryan?” “Yes...sorry...uhm...I’m not feeling too good today.” “Oh...can I do anything?” Ryan was so busy trying to figure out what was going on that he was helpless in the situation. He looked into the green eyes now in front of him “No, thanks Gareth...it’s nothing.” “Mr. Harris! We don’t have the entire day!” coach Thomas reprimanded, but Ryan didn’t want to take his turn - he would be useless without the required focus. So there was only one option for the puzzled boy - to watch Gareth practice - to observe each and every muscle on his arms and legs pulsate when he performed his gymnastic exercises in his white shorts and the lose hanging shirt. Sometimes it provided a glimpse on Gareth’s firm upper body when he was upside down - not that he hadn’t seen it before in the lockers - but this time it produced an irritating sensation. “Okay if you don’t want to, I will go again.” Gareth carefully put his grips back on, rubbed some fresh chalk between his hands and jumped up, receiving an assist from his coach to reach the high bar. His blond hair whirled around wildly during his routine and his sculpted body looked strong and straight throughout the entire run. It had gotten even more strange for Ryan as he felt jealous of Coach Thomas. The adult had the chance to touch Gareth on so many different occasions - to give him support or to prevent him from being hurt in case he lost his grip or slipped. It seemed so unfair that someone could do all this, while the boy feeling an unknown desire for his friend had to be content with a simple high five or a pat on the back. Although, it was enough to sense the warmth of his body, the softness of his skin, the strength of his muscles - even if only through the fabric of the boy’s shirt. Ryan wanted to be there, to support and help.....mysteriously he yearned to touch him not knowing whether this was right or wrong. During the next few days the two grew together in a friendly way and built a relationship carried by trust and respect. Ryan was happy with how far their friendship had gone - sometimes Gareth would come over and the boys would have an hour or two of fun together. They even tickled each other or jumped on Ryan’s big bed during fun fights, touching here and there. It felt right...thrilling...and being close to him was so delightful to Ryan. He was able to leave his misery behind for as long as he wasn’t alone. The closer they got, the more Ryan longed for a sign of affection in return, but hadn’t the faintest idea what he really wanted. It was so wondrous, so charming, but also so puzzling and daunting. Throughout these times Ryan suffered much emotional turmoil. One day he would feel sad - missing his dad and brother – and was quiet, not talking much at all. Next day he would be angry with himself and the world around him. His psychologist, Dr. Clarke, had worked with him twice a week to reach a mentally stable situation, but it was not that easy, even after two years. Ryan had been most relaxed being with his cousin Jason or even just talking to him on the phone. It had the same calming effect on Susan’s son as the relaxation exercise with Dr. Clarke. And now he was overwhelmed with anxiety whenever he was around Gareth. The same anxiety he felt whenever he thought back on that fateful day in September, when he had been dismissed early from school and his mother had acted so strange. The same anxiety whenever he was about to suffer a panic attack. The same anxiety he felt in the dentist’s waiting room. The same anxiety he got before he had to go on stage, butterflies in his stomach. And yet not the same anxiety at all. Not the same dread, not the same misery. Not misery at all. Quite the opposite. It was so confusing, especially on that last gym training session, the last session before Ryan had quit.   *** ***   The training session was over and once again Ryan had watched and fantasized more than exercised. Coach Thomas had a serious talk with him about not being able to participate in the championship if he continued to sluff off regardless of how much he might want to. For Harris Jr. it no longer mattered. It was Tuesday afternoon, the normal gym practice with two other boys - four of them in all - and they headed towards the lockers after an exhausting one and a half hours. Before Ryan could enter the tidy and simple changing room that had no private cubicles, he was held back by Gareth such that the two were alone for a moment standing in the hallway close to one another. “Hey, what’s wrong with you - you’re being lazy. Don’t you wanna win London?” “Of course, but it’s not that important, is it?” “To me it is - and to my dad. I can easily win the singles, now that you’re out - well, almost - but we need to win as a team!” “But what if I don’t want to?” “Why would you say that?” “I don’t know, it is just...” Ryan didn’t know what to say and shrugged. Gareth looked into his eyes, shook his head and entered the lockers pulling up his shirt to get ready for the showers. This had been the best part of gym training since Ryan had discovered the bewildering pleasure of being with his new friend. It was fascinating just to watch him undress. Watching was addictive. No matter how much Ryan wanted to look away, he was forced to do the opposite. He couldn't help it. Puberty had started, sweeping him into untested waters. For over a week he showered alone after the others were all finished - dropping his clothes extra slowly. He was just too anxious for whatever might happen - you know what I’m talking about - embarrassing things. But he hadn’t thought about it this day. He dropped his boxers, tossed them on the brown wooden bench in front of him and followed suit. And there he was - with his obviously first crush of his life also in his birthday suit, right in front of him, only four feet away. It was so exciting for Ryan to look at Gareth’s fully naked, perfectly shaped and tempting body while the hot, steaming water dripped down on him. The white tiles on the wall, the warm air and the bright ceiling lights made this the perfect place to be in this very moment - clean and pure. Although it was a bit sterile and simple, it was filled with God’s art. Now and then Ryan looked away or in a different direction just to make sure he wasn’t too obvious. The other lads were of no interest to him - not even for a glimpse. But then it happened - as Gareth pressed his shower gel bottle and poured some of its contents on his chest rubbing it in, continuing with his armpits and...his genitals. In a shower with other boys, he felt a seriously unwanted feeling coming up in his hips. ‘No, please...not now!’ he quickly begged, but it was too late – within seconds his penis stood at full attention. Secretly boys always compare each other’s package, to see if they were okay or if the other was noticeably bigger. So the other boys saw Ryan’s erection and stared. For a second, which felt like minutes, the ending of this disconcerting situation hovered uncertainly in the steamy air. Nobody said a word or did anything. None of the boys dared to move or even breathe, before Gareth reacted with an accusing tone in his voice showing another, hitherto unknown side of his personality. “What the fuck....you’re a beefer?! Guys look at him...he’s popping a boner...gosh, you’re a faggot....uhuuuu, do you like what you see?” The boys laughed and Gareth made it even worse by strutting around ostentatiously handling his floppy dick in a mock display to Ryan. It could not get any worse. Red-faced, tight-chested, barely able to breath, the Harris boy bolted out of the shower. Sick in the pit of his stomach, he plopped down onto the bench. With shaking hands he pulled up his jeans over top of his wet legs, jammed his wet feet into his shoes, pulled his shirt over a wet head. Grabbing his unused towel, underwear and socks, Ryan fled the CACL.   *** ***   Ryan was mortified and avoided his turncoat friend and the gym, fearful of whatever might happen. His mother Susan interpreted his grief as a flashback and linked his behavior to the past - as usual – even if she wasn’t completely convinced. For now the boy’s secret seemed safe. As far as Ryan could tell, nobody ever did tell on him - not on the streets, not at school, not anywhere or anyhow. Ryan didn’t understand why, but he was thankful. In the end it was the only reason to not hate Gareth. Perhaps he had been so mean in the showers because of the other boys. So even after all this, Ryan was tempted to forgive him for what he had done not wanting to have another weight on his shoulders. But the hurt in his heart was insistent, interlaced with fear and mistrust. A week later he saw Gareth on the street not far from the CACL. The Cooper boy attended St. Andrews Prep School, so they wouldn’t meet on a daily basis. Ryan immediately turned away - he didn’t want to talk to the traitor - but Gareth caught up with him. “RYAN, WAIT!” “Leave me alone!” “No, wait...please!” he grabbed Ryan at his arm, turning him around. “What do you want?” “Listen, I’m sorry...really.” “Sorry for what? For making fun of me? Calling me a queer? I'm not a queer!” “Of course you're not a queer. I was only kidding.” “In front of everyone?!” “Only in front of Paul and Mason.” “And they're gonna tell everyone.” “No they won't. I made sure they won't. I told them I was only kidding and they won't tell anyone, I promise.” “Why should I believe you?” Ryan said in a mistrusting tone, turned around and walked away. Gareth stood there looking like a drowned rat and whispered to himself “....because I like you.” but Ryan didn’t hear it, walking away from him with pain in his heart. All the explanations and excuses Gareth propounded didn’t help. Much as Ryan would have wanted to forgive him and be friends again, his trust had been broken. He could not risk getting hurt again. Young Ryan's plate was overloaded - first losing his father and brother and then losing his first crush and suffering humiliation. Still, after this talk he started to feel somewhat better and the relief was very welcome. For the first time in days he could breathe again, deeply and freely without that heavy weight in his chest. Slowly he was figuring out what these new sensations were all about. He wondered now what would have happened if Gareth and him had been alone together in the showers...   End of Chapter 1