Date: Wed, 1 Oct 2014 21:07:57 -0700
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Puget Posse  Chapter 40

Greetings and welcome back to the Puget Posse. Mark returns from
his suspension ready for battle. He is determined to prevent Jeremiah
from winning the spring election for sixth grade office. And to stop
him, the Posse must start to work immediately to do what they felt
was best for the future of their class.

The usual disclaimers apply. Please donate to the Nifty Archive to
support all it does.

 Douglas. thehakaanen@hotmail.com

CHAPTER 40
A COMMON PURPOSE

Patrick was happy to see Mark arrive with Matthew on Monday
morning. This would be Mark's first day at school since Jeremiah's
scheme got him suspended. Patrick wondered what kind of mood
Mark would be in. He didn't need to wonder for long as Mark went
into the living room and draped his arms around Maxine from behind.

"Just cereal this morning?" Matthew asked as he checked out
Patrick's breakfast.

"The doctor told Grannana to take things easy for a couple of days."

"Hey, Patrick," Mark asked as he let go of Maxine, "what you got on
under that t-shirt?"

"Take a guess."

Mark put his finger to his lips and struck a thinking pose. "What if I
guessed nothing?" he asked.

"Then you'd be right," Patrick giggled.

Matthew left for the living room and headed for Maxine's chair to give
her a hug of his own. When he returned the twins helped Patrick rinse
his dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.

"I'm really happy to see you," Patrick told Mark. "I was worried about
you."

"You worry about everybody," Mark said. "I'm fine and ready to kick
some Jeremiah ass."

"You're going to fight him? That will get you kicked out of school for
good."

"No way I'm going to fight him. I sure would like to, though."

"Yeah, me too," Matthew kicked in. "No way he can beat the
Bobcats."

"I wish one of you would change your name to something else,"
Patrick said. "Two Bobcats is confusing."

"Won't happen," Mark said with a laugh that had a special sound for
Patrick. It told him that Mark was okay. "Me and Matthew like
confusing everybody. It's fun. You should try it."

"I don't have a twin brother."

"Invent one," Matthew said. "That would really confuse everybody."

"Yeah," Mark added, "it would even confuse us."

"You look really good naked," Matthew said as he watched Patrick
remove his long t-shirt. "You should go to school like that and get
everybody excited."

"Mrs. Deaver would catch me before I got to school," Patrick said as
he pulled on his school polo shirt. "But now you saw what I had on
under my t-shirt."

"You can't put anything by her. She's better than most teachers at
catching things."

"Misha told us you spent the night with him on Saturday when
Grannana went to the hospital."

"Yeah, it was real last minute," Patrick said. "It would have been with
you guys if you didn't live so far away."

"That would have kicked ass," Mark said. "We could have all sucked
each other."

"Do you guys always think about sex?" Patrick asked.

"Yep," Mark said.

"Except when we don't," Matthew added.

"Did you and Misha mess around any?" Mark asked Patrick.

"I was worried about Grannana," Patrick said, deftly avoiding a direct
answer.

"Misha knows a lot about sex," Matthew said. "You need to overnight
with him some more."

"And with us," Mark said. "The Posse is coming together."

Patrick finished dressing and grabbed his coat and backpack. "What
did you mean about kicking Jeremiah's ass?" Patrick asked.

"I dunno," Mark said. "I just know the Posse has to work together to
beat that asshole. Jeremiah has it in for all of us. Plus, you know he's
gonna run for sixth grade president in the spring."

"And we all have to make sure he loses," Matthew said as they
entered the living room. "Him and Alden and all of his asshole friends
all have to lose."

"Watch your tongue, young man," Maxine admonished.

"Sorry, Grannana," Matthew said. "It's just Jeremiah has us all pissed
off."

"Just because I'm a bit under the weather doesn't mean I can't broom
you."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry." Matthew nodded contritely.

"And while minding your manners you can mind your grammar as
well. It is `he and Alden'". Matthew nodded again.

The bus conveniently pulled up saving Matthew from sticking his foot
in his mouth a third time.

Mrs. Deaver greeted the boys as they boarded the bus. "Nice to see
you back, Mark," she said. "You're looking good."

"Thank you, Mrs. Deaver."

"Hey, everybody said you weren't coming back to school," Steve, the
eighth grader, said from the back seat.

"Everybody was wrong, just like they always are," Mark said. He
knew he was going to have to field a lot of comments like Steve's
over the course of the day.

When Will boarded the bus he was genuinely happy to see Mark. He
asked Matthew to move and sit with Patrick and he took the spot next
to Mark. "Us election losers can sit together and the winners can sit
around together bragging," he told the group. "I missed you," he said
to Mark.

"I missed everybody," Mark said. "Are you going to help the Posse
get back at Jeremiah?" he asked Will.

"Yeah, by beating the crap out of Ellis," Will answered. "Or at least
kicking him off of the Fantastic Five if I could."

"It's not his fault," Mark said with conviction. "But we're gonna need to
talk serious with him. Today we need to have the whole Posse
meet...well, except maybe Neville since he's always too busy to meet
with us unless we make an appointment."

The chatter ceased at the next stop when Jeremiah and Tony got on
the bus. Jeremiah stopped next to Mark's seat and smirked. "I guess
you're not Mister President after all. Looks like even your own brother
won't sit with you."

Mark had a zillion answers bubbling in his brain, but he had sworn to
himself and to Matthew that he wouldn't deal with Jeremiah until the
Posse had discussed what to do about him. Keeping his mouth shut
was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

"Got nothing to say, huh? That's what happens when you get crushed
by somebody better than you."

"Jeremiah, sit your ass down so I can start moving this bus," Mrs.
Deaver yelled from the driver's seat.

"I can sit down when I want," Jeremiah told her. "I'm the fifth grade
president. Right, Mark?"

"Jeremiah, I don't care if you're the President of the United States, on
my bus you sit down when I tell you to sit down."

Jeremiah gave the bus driver a look of disdain, but didn't move.
"Perhaps a referral to Dean Cutler will remind of you of the proper
pecking order," Mrs. Deaver said icily.

"I was just kidding," Jeremiah said as he sat down across the aisle
from Patrick and Matthew. "You don't need to go all ballistic over it."

Jeremiah and Tony ignored the four fifth graders across the aisle and
the favor was returned. As the bus pulled to a stop in the Academy
loading zone, Mrs. Deaver turned and gave Mark her "I want to talk to
you, so be the last one off of the bus" look. Mark caught it as did
Jeremiah.

The six fifth graders waited for the upper classmen to move past
them. When Jeremiah and Tony entered the aisle Jeremiah stopped
next to Mark. "I saw Deaver's look. I know you hate her as much as I
do. Maybe it's something you and me can work on together."

Mark wanted to tell Jeremiah to go fuck himself even though he knew
it was an impossible act. He heard older kids saying it, so it must
mean something. He also suppressed his urge to flip Jeremiah the
bird—he did know full well what that meant.

Mark let Matthew, Patrick, and Will leave the bus and then stopped to
see what Mrs. Deaver wanted. He was certain he wasn't in trouble,
but then being around Jeremiah seemed to make strange things
happen to him.

"I'm sorry about you and the election, Mark. Almost everybody I know
thinks you got set up in that bathroom."

"Thanks, Mrs. Deaver," Mark said quietly.

Mrs. Deaver looked into his eyes to see if any of his old spark was
there. She thought Mark had been surprisingly quiet when confronted
by Jeremiah. In the past he would have had some kind of biting
remark to throw back at his rival.

"And thank you for not making a big fuss about Jeremiah's behavior
this morning." She looked at the quiet boy again and asked if he was
okay.

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied.

"Don't let Jeremiah get you down."

That was when she saw the familiar glow in his eyes and his fighting
spirit light up his face. "Don't worry about that, Mrs. D. Jeremiah
hasn't faced the Posse yet. He doesn't know how much trouble he's
in. You watch."

"Just don't do anything you'll regret later."

"The only person who's gonna regret anything is Jeremiah. See ya,
Mrs. D." Mark hopped off the bus roaring with his boyish laughter.

Mrs. Deaver didn't doubt for a moment that Mark was just fine. She
didn't doubt for a moment that Jeremiah was going to have his
balloon popped—it was just a matter of time. She closed the door and
put the bus into gear, wondering how a low life like Jeremiah could
have climbed so high in the hallowed halls of the Puget Academy.

Mark caught up to Will and took him aside. He told Will his plan
regarding Ellis and asked for his help. Will nodded and said he'd be
more than happy to help.

Next he went upstairs to the eighth grade hall, ignoring the scattered
requests for his ticket. "That is so yesterday," Mark said as he
brushed off the older boys. He found the person he wanted at the end
of the hall.

"Hey, Mark," Paul said when he saw the fifth grader from his team.
The two bumped fists and Paul asked Mark why he was in the
upstairs hall.

"I'm here because I need your help," Mark said. "The whole Posse
needs your help," he added.

"I'm happy to help you if I can. I consider myself a part of the Posse."

Mark explained to Paul what he wanted. "Not a problem," Paul said.
"I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Only if I can get the last person to agree."

"You can. I have lots of confidence in you and the Posse. You guys
are awesome."

Mark thanked him and was about to head downstairs when Paul put
his hand on his shoulder. "When do I get to give you a blow job?" he
said quietly.

Mark stiffened. "You mean I have to pay for your help?"

"No, no. I am helping you because I'm your Posse guide and I like all
of you guys. The blow job is because, well, because...um...I want to
give you one just because..."

Mark relaxed and gave Paul a leering grin. "Um, because I'm really
sexy for an eleven-year-old?"

"Yep, that was it."

"I'll let you plan it. See ya." Mark took off quickly so he could dodge
any more lame comments from the "stoopid" eighth graders.

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

Mark met with Matthew, Patrick, and Misha in the classroom before
school started. "We have to meet at lunch today," he said, making it
obvious he was giving an order, not making a request. He looked
around and asked where Neville was.

"Neville was on the bus," Misha said. "I do not know where he went."

"No biggie," Matthew said. "He isn't going to meet with us anyway
without us making an appointment first."

"If he doesn't want to meet with us then we will just have to become a
posse of four instead of five," Mark told them.

"Why do you think he won't want to meet with us?" Patrick asked.

"Because he's Neville, that's why," Matthew said.

Before anybody could say anything else, Neville walked into the
classroom with Ellis. "Figures," Matthew muttered. "They probably
had a meeting with Jeremiah and Alden."

Neville walked over to the four Posse members while Ellis sat at his
desk in the Fantastic Five section. "Good morning," Neville said in his
British accent.

"What was with you and Ellis?" Matthew asked, going on the attack
so Mark wouldn't have to.

"I believe you will have to find that out from Ellis," was all Neville
would say.

"We're having a Posse meeting at lunch today," Mark said.

"Good. We need to talk about what to do about Jeremiah and his
friends," Neville said.

"Does that mean you plan to meet with us?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you never wanted to be a part of the Posse before."

"Well, now I do."

The other four boys looked at each other and grinned. They all
wanted to ask why the change in attitude, but decided to accept
Neville's about face, at least for the time being. They all knew that
Neville's outlook could change in an instant. What they didn't know
was how Dylan had helped change that outlook in his bed on
Saturday night. They also didn't know how Neville's father had
solidified that change at the family's Sunday dinner.

There had been a lot of good-natured chatter as they ate that dinner.
Reginald asked Neville if he was still adamant about changing teams.

"I think I shall stay where I am for the year," Neville said.

"I was under the impression you disliked the twins."

"They are not so bad once you get to know them."

"Well, your group did do very well on their project, or I would
intervene to have you moved."

"Please don't, father, I am happy there for now."

"Even with the Irish boy? We know there has to be issues there."

Neville said nothing since his mouth was full.

"That reminds me. Do you know why the Irish have potatoes instead
of oil?"

Nobody bit.

Reginald grinned and said, "Because they had first pick." He laughed
heartily at his joke, but saw that he was the only one who even
cracked a smile. "It probably was your Irish friend who made the
choice." That comment did elicit a response, and it wasn't from
Shelley, his wife.

"That is just wrong," Neville said.

"Excuse me? Are you saying I was wrong?"

"No, sir, the joke was wrong. Patrick is very smart. He was our leader
for the project and is a reason we got the good grades. I would
appreciate it if you no longer say bad things about Patrick because he
has Irish blood."

"I knew that school was corrupting you. Perhaps changing schools is
what is needed with you, not merely changing teams. I cannot believe
your cheekiness."

"Reginald, be civilized," Shelly said. "The boy is standing up for his
friend. Perhaps you should be pleased he is objecting to your
prejudices."

Dylan took the by-play in without saying anything. He was proud of
how Neville stood up for his friend and even more proud of how he
stood up to his father.

The dinner progressed quietly. Reginald seemed to sulk some
because of the unexpected bit of rebellion by his son.

The weekend had solidified the direction Neville had been leaning
toward. He had been up and down regarding the Puget Posse since
orientation. But now, he was all in.

"What did you and Ellis talk about?" Matthew asked. He didn't trust
Neville and his new attitude.

"You will need to ask him that." Neville felt his resolve wavering under
Matthew's hostility. The ringing of the morning bell ended any more
conversation for the time being.

Like Matthew, Mark wanted to know what Neville and Ellis had
discussed. But, like Neville had said, he would have to find that out
for himself. That wasn't going to happen at morning break as Ellis
pointedly stayed out of Mark's way.

Nobody was surprised that the topic of the Posse's lunch meeting
was the elections. Nobody was surprised that Mark took charge of the
meeting. The group knew there was nothing they could do to change
the outcome of the election. What they needed to do was come up
with a strategy for undermining Jeremiah and his troops before the
spring elections at the end of the school year.

They had to stop their conversation a couple of times when some of
Jeremiah's supporters would wander in close to their table. They
knew the intrusions were intentional.

They kicked around a few ideas. Patrick suggested they come up
with more ideas and then meet at somebody's house during the
weekend. They all said they would ask parents and report the next
day. Mark told them not to talk to Ellis. He told them that he planned
on meeting with him before the end of the week. Mark also said he
planned to run for one of their class's student senate seats.

"Nobody said I couldn't," he stated matter-of-factly.

Just as they started to leave their table, Jeremiah came by after
busing his tray. "Are you guys ready for the student council meeting
on Wednesday?" he asked.

He received no response from the Posse. They knew they were being
baited and were proved right when he came up with the kicker. "Oh,
sorry Mark, I meant are most of you guys ready. It will be fun—I can't
wait." He stood next to the table with a smirk as he waited for a
response. But, the Posse had agreed that they would not say
anything to Jeremiah unless absolutely necessary until they had
formulated their strategy. The silence became a waiting game with
Jeremiah blinking first. "Fine, be that way. I am trying to be friendly.
No wonder nobody likes you guys." He turned and slinked away.

"I want to strangle him," Matthew said. "I hate this strategy."

"Don't worry, we're doing the right thing," Mark said.

"Since when did you become a wuss? You're the one who should be
strangling him."

"Being patient is important in winning a war," said Misha, the chess
player and master of patience.

"Whatever, I think it's wrong," Matthew said. "But the rest of you guys
like the silent treatment so I guess I'll go with it." Usually it was Neville
who had the contrary opinion. It was different seeing Matthew going
against the flow.

"It's only until the weekend," Patrick said. "And when we come up
with our strategy, we need to all agree on it."

"We will," Mark said as he glared at his twin brother, "don't worry
about that. Now I need to go get to work on the big thing we said we
need to do this week." Mark donned his jacket, took his tray, and left
the table. It was time for him to find Ellis.

Ellis was in the covered play area with Will and Lukas. Will had told
Mark he would make sure Ellis was available after lunch. One thing
Ellis had discovered since winning his election was the boys from the
other two classes were actually acknowledging his existence. Even
though he had won the election, it was more because of his speech
and the fact that he looked like a better choice than his opponent than
because he had suddenly become popular. The Puget Academy was
one of the rare environments where a non-conformist like Ellis could
win an election.

When Ellis saw Mark heading his way he visibly flinched. He wasn't
sure who frightened him more, Mark or Jeremiah. Suddenly the light
went on and he gave Will an accusatory glare. "You wanted to talk to
me outside because you knew Mark was coming here?"

Will didn't deny the accusation. "Mark wants to talk to you."

"And you knew everybody would be inside."

"Not everybody." There were some boys shooting hoops or playing
four square, but most of the students were using the indoor play area.

"He doesn't want to talk to me, he wants to beat me up. That's why
you don't want anybody here."

"Hi, Ellis," Mark said. Ellis ignored Mark in the same way he'd ignored
Jeremiah. "I don't want to beat anybody up. The only person I usually
beat up is my brother, except when he beats me up."

"Everybody says you beat people up."

"Only if they deserve it. I don't think you deserve it."

Ellis went back into silent mode. Mark probably thought he deserved
being beat up and it was probably going to happen right here on the
playground. Only this time Will and Lukas would be the ones to lie to
Dean Cutler.

"Look, Ellis, we gotta talk. You think I hate you, but I don't. I know that
Jeremiah has you scared about something." The look on Ellis's face
told Mark he was close in his assessment. "I have until spring to
figure out how to beat him and I need your help."

 Ellis broke his silence. "My help? How?"

"That's for when we talk. But we can't talk at school for a long time or
Jeremiah will see us and wonder. I had us come out here so we could
see if any of Jeremiah's gang was watching us."

Ellis didn't want to talk to Mark. As much as he despised Jeremiah,
there was nothing he could do to help Mark as long as Jeremiah had
the picture. Besides, he had already helped out Mark by saying Mark
never hit him in the bathroom. What had Mark ever done for him? He
didn't owe Mark anything. Then an image of his good shot on the goal
flashed by him—an image of him chasing a soccer ball down the field
and kicking the ball in the right direction came to him. He saw another
image, an image of Mark on the soccer field putting his arm around
his shoulder and helping him be a better player as well as giving him
a boner.

"I can't help you," he said helplessly, knowing that helping Mark was
exactly what he wanted to do.

He started thinking about what Neville had said to him in the morning
about helping out the Posse do something for the common good.
"You are an officer now," Neville said. "You know how evil Jeremiah
is. You need to help us bring him down." His answer to Neville had
been the same as his answer to Mark. "I can't help you."

"Yes you can help me," Mark said. "You know you can, and here's
how." Mark explained his plan to Ellis.

"You aren't doing this to beat me up?"

"No, I'm doing this because I need you and even more because I like
you."

"You do?"

"Ellis, lots of guys like you or you wouldn't have won the treasurer
election."

"I won because they don't know me."

Mark decided not to get into that pissing match. "Will and Paul will be
there, too, if you're worried about me."

"Okay. I'll ask my mom if it's okay for me to come home late."

"And my mom already agreed to pick us up."

"You were that sure I'd say yes?"

"I was. You're a good dude and you want to do the right thing. This is
how you'll start bringing that asshole down."

Ellis smiled for the first time. "That would make me very happy."

"Talk to your mother and meet me in the basement after school on
Wednesday."

There was now nothing Mark could do until Wednesday. He reminded
the Posse as class started after lunch to not talk to Jeremiah, Alden,
Tony, or Conrad and to be careful around anybody who hung around
Jeremiah a lot.

That night Mark lit into Matthew. The two had squabbled some on the
bus ride home. They had maintained an icy silence at Patrick's house
while waiting to be picked up by their mother. The three boys did their
homework, saying less than they would have sitting in the library.

They squabbled again at dinner time. Kristy told them to save their
arguing until after everybody had finished eating. Sometimes that
strategy worked as the boys would forget they had been arguing by
the time the meal was over. This was not one of those times.

The boys wore only a t-shirt to dinner since it was Monday and
Monday was naked day. Kristy had put her foot down regarding
dressing for dinner—the boys had to at least wear a shirt. The girls
would have to as well, but they had started to eschew naked day.
Their rapidly bulging breasts and the appearance of fuzz in their
pubic area had made them self-conscious about their looks.

After finishing their ice cream they excused themselves and stomped
up to their bedroom. "Be ready for the bumps," Scott said. He saw a
fight in the making between his two enigmatic sons. This one looked
more like one of their pushing, shoving, then kiss-and-make-up fights
than the previous two fights had been.

"What's with you?" Mark asked as he closed the door to their
bedroom.

"It's more like what's with you?" Matthew retorted. To the two of them
it seemed like the hundredth time they'd asked the pair of questions
with no satisfactory replies being produced.

"You've been pissy about everything all day," Mark said.

"Yeah, because you want to get your way with everything."

"I'm the one who got screwed by Jeremiah, so I should get my way.
Besides, we agreed on everything last night."

"That was last night and this is today. You were a wuss all day. You
should have been all over Jeremiah."

"We said we'd let the Posse agree on what to do about him."

"Nobody wanted to agree on anything."

"Yeah, because we agreed not to do anything until the weekend."

"We have to do something now."

"We need to be patient," Mark said, realizing that didn't sound like
him at all.

"Since when have you been patient?"

"Since never." That was Mark's cue to jump on Matthew. Just like that
the two were wrestling on the floor exchanging harmless blows. It
was a fight just like their father had predicted. It was over within
minutes with Matthew lying on top of Mark and both boys breathing
hard.

"You're right," Matthew said, even though he was the one on top. "We
gotta be sure to bring Jeremiah down in the spring."

"Then why were you being shit for brains all day?" Mark asked.

"Cuz you were getting a big head."

At that moment, Scott opened the door and looked in. He wanted to
make sure he had properly gauged the animosity level. When he saw
the two half-naked eleven-year-olds on the floor talking civilly, he
turned to leave. He didn't need to comment about a matter that had
obviously been solved in the twins' own way. And he certainly wasn't
going to comment on the raging boner he saw Mark sporting as his
brother partially draped his body.

"Guess dad is cool with us," Matthew said.

"Yeah, but he saw my boner."

"So? I bet he gets boners, too. We wouldn't be here if he didn't,"
Matthew said showing off his knowledge of the birds and the bees.

"How do you know they did it?" Mark said trying to imagine his
parents having sex. "Maybe they used artificial constipation or
whatever it's called."

"Nah, they had sex, just like we're going to."

"You mean you and me tonight?"

"No, I mean us with a couple of girls. Gotta do it before we get old."

"Yeah, like before we're thirteen," Mark said. "I mean I already make
cum, so now I gotta be careful. Now get up off me. Let's go
downstairs naked and piss off Michelle and Megan." The twin girls
were not fans of naked Mondays. Seeing their brothers naked was
not one of their favorite things, not because they were siblings but
because they were so immature. They had now seen a couple of
naked boys with pubic hair and that was what they considered manly
and sexy.

The girls were properly disgusted when they saw their naked
brothers, especially since Mark was still sporting his erection. "Mom,
send them upstairs," Michelle yelled.

"It's Monday. Live with it," Kristy said.

"But Mark has a boner," Megan protested.

Kristy took a peek at her son. "Why me?" she whispered to herself.
The boys were approaching puberty and she and Scott were going to
have to deal with it. Tonight was not the time, however.

"We're going to our rooms," Michelle huffed. "Good night mom, good
night dad." She looked at her brothers. "I hope both of you have
nightmares."

"We'd rather have wet dreams," Matthew cackled as the girls left
sulking.

When their bedtime arrived, the boys took care of their evening
washing, brushing, and peeing. They cuddled up in Matthew's bed.

"Are we having sex like you said?" Mark asked.

"If you want," Matthew answered.

"I need to talk first."

"You had all night to talk."

"Yeah, but it's better when we're cuddled up close."

"Okay, so talk. That's about all you've been doing, anyway."

"That's the problem. I'm supposed to talk to Ellis on Wednesday and I
don't know what to say."

"Just say he's a pecker head."

"What happened wasn't his fault. We need to find out why he does
everything Jeremiah wants him to do and then stop it."

"So ask him," Matthew said.

"I don't know how." What Mark knew, but wasn't yet sophisticated
enough to explain, was that he excelled at action, not at talking. If he
could shake sense into Ellis he wouldn't be worried, but he knew he
couldn't do that. He had to talk out the problem and he was no good
at that.

Matthew understood Mark's problem. He was also all about action,
which is why doing nothing about Jeremiah all day had frustrated him.
"So what are you going to do?"

"Who is the best in the Posse at talking to people?

"Misha. If he can talk Neville into doing stuff, he can talk anybody into
doing anything."

"I gotta ask his help tomorrow. I need him to help me talk to Ellis."

"What's he supposed to say to Ellis?"

"How do I know? I just know I gotta talk to him tomorrow."

"Do you want a blow job?" Matthew asked out of the blue.

"Not tonight. Let's just sleep."

Matthew didn't argue. The brothers cuddled together and fell asleep,
feeling love through their smooth young bodies.

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

Tuesday saw Mark explaining his problem as the Posse took their
seats before class started in the morning.  He asked Misha if he
would help him the next day. Misha looked at the other members,
who were all staring at him with looks that said they expected him to
do it. He gave Patrick an extra look and smiled when Patrick nodded
his head yes.

"I must call my mother at recess for her permission," Misha said.

"Tell her my mom will give you a ride home if you miss the activity
bus," Mark told him.

Tuesday was also a day when Jeremiah got to run his first student
council meeting. The five members of the fifth grade council met
during first lunch for a mock session under the supervision of Mr.
Vargas and the assistance of Tyler Mitchell, the student body
president. Jeremiah was surprised to have the full cooperation of the
three student council members from the Posse. Misha, Patrick, and
Matthew agreed to not create any trouble for Jeremiah—at least for
now. Jeremiah expected Ellis to cooperate; after all he had the
picture of Ellis wearing lipstick and makeup and sporting a boner.

Jeremiah finished lunch feeling like a million dollars. He had expected
the Posse to find a way to make trouble for him, but even Matthew
had been agreeable.

Tuesday night saw Ellis having an attack of nerves. He sat naked in
his room painting his nails alternating purple and gold, just like the
Huskies. At least he could claim loyalty to the University of
Washington when his peers saw his fingernails. He applied lipstick,
rouge, and mascara then played with his rock hard boner. He thought
of Mark having his arm around his shoulder the day before. He
wished he could have felt it there for hours.

He rifled through his dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of panties,
pulling them on. They were so tight that even his little erection
pushed the waistband out. He walked across the hall to his parents'
bedroom and took the usual empty spot on the bed. His mother woke
up out of her sleep.

"Are you okay, Ellis?" She put an arm around him, but he pushed it
away.

"Yes." Ellis had no desire to be touched by his mother. What he
wanted was to sleep with Barry, but that was impossible that night.
He wished he could sleep with Mark, but that was something that
would never happen.

To make things worse, Mark had told him that now the Posse would
be ganging up on him. He said Misha was going to be talking to him,
too. He remembered reading about torture and rubber hoses. He had
images of the two of them beating him up, even though everybody
liked Misha, who was never mean to anybody. On the other hand,
Misha was from Russia, and he'd read about how the secret police
there used to torture people.

So, Paul and Will and Mark and Misha would all be there asking him
about why he did everything Jeremiah and Alden told him to do.
Maybe he should just tell them it was because he liked Jeremiah and
Alden and hated the stupid Posse and all of their friends. He wanted
Barry inside of him. He wanted Dax, or Frank, or Vic, or Tommy, or all
of them to fuck him after Barry. Maybe even Mark could be there. And
Paul—Paul was a good looking eighth grader and he'd seen Paul
cum. Paul would feel good inside of him.

What he didn't want was the meeting the next day. He thought about
being sick and staying home from school, but everybody would know
he was being a wuss and faking it. The thought flashed through his
head that he hated life and wished he was dead. He felt tears on his
cheek and fought back a whimper. Reba once again placed her arm
around her half-naked son. This time he didn't push her away. He just
lay still for a long time, unable to sleep as he felt his mother's body up
against him. He wished his boner would go away.

Ellis was surprised to wake up in his mother's bed. It took him a few
moments to remember going to her room well after he should have
been asleep in his own bed. The bed was empty; his mother was
probably up making breakfast. He felt his crotch area, happy to note
he wasn't naked. His pillow was a mess from the makeup that had
been rubbed off during the night.

He was filled with dread as he headed for the shower. He looked in
the bathroom mirror and saw his face covered with smeared lipstick
and makeup. He remembered putting it on as the clock in his room
approached midnight. He removed the makeup and showered. He
looked at his fingernails, which he'd painted almost as a protest
against his upcoming interrogation. He hadn't touched his toenails.
He wished now he'd painted them instead of his fingers.

Putting the panties back on, he went downstairs for breakfast. Reba
tried unsuccessfully to find out what was eating at her son. She knew
what his feelings were about sleeping with her and in her own way
she knew that he wouldn't have done so if something wasn't seriously
troubling him. The fact that he'd put on makeup and panties told her
even more, but she couldn't get a word out of Ellis, who had gone into
his passive aggressive mode.

When he returned to his room to dress he rejected wearing briefs or
boxers, opting to keep the panties on. His mother drove him to
school, once again trying to get him to talk. Instead he sat silently in
the back seat, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, then pushing his
hand inside his panties to play with his cocklet, a routine that
comforted him during the drive.

Reba wished she could get her son to talk. A week ago he was
walking on air after winning the election for treasurer. But for the last
two days he moped and said nothing. She wished her husband was
home. Over the past few months he and Ellis had started to become
close. She was certain his father might get Ellis to open up. She
glanced into the rear view mirror. She knew he was playing with
himself, but she didn't care. Doing that at least indicated there was
still some spark in him.

Ellis closed up his pants, grabbed his backpack, said good-bye to his
mother and walked slowly to the building, his demeanor that of a
defeated boy.

Next: Deputized