I was short. Petite. Some would say tiny. Standing as tall as I could I was still quite a bit less than five feet. I guessed there were a lot of boys my size, but I doubted that they were 15 and about to start ninth grade, like I was.
Mom knew I was anxious about school, and she tried to reassure me, telling me that my father got his growth spurt very late but eventually ended up over six feet tall. I was not comforted.
I never met my father. Mom said he left home just before I was born. I guess he didn’t like the idea of being a father. I was beginning to think I was the result of a one-night stand. Not that Mom had lots of boyfriends or anything. I’d never seen one and I doubted she was sneaking out at night for a secret date. But who knew?
Last spring, when I finished middle school, I was by far the shortest boy in the class. I guess someone had to be, but why me?
I was too little and uncoordinated to be any good at physically-challenging sports. I’d tried tennis and swimming, but I was not very successful at either.
I did have a basketball hoop on a stand beside my driveway. I’d looked up the regulation distance from the backboard to the free-throw line ─ 15 feet ─ and I’d measured it out, painting a free-throw line on our driveway. I’d gotten really good at shooting free throws, but so what? It wasn’t like I was ever going to need the skill.
A week before school began, Mom took me to a clothing store to shop for school clothes. We had to go to the children’s department to find anything that would fit me. The only other boys in the department were like ten years old. Humiliating? Tell me about it.
We were supposed to get a jockstrap for PE but we couldn’t find one that would fit me. Mom said she’d write a note to the gym teacher. Great. How embarrassing would that be?
When I complained to Mom, she said, “Richard, it won’t make any difference. Nobody else needs to know.” Fat chance! As soon as we were in the locker room, everyone would know.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not putting Mom down ─ exactly. I know she loves me, and I know she works two jobs so we can live in a nice house and have plenty to eat. But she just doesn’t get what being a boy is all about, what one has to deal with to survive. And on top of that I’m little. She doesn’t really understand what being little means to me.
The doctor assured me that I’m not a midget or a dwarf or anything like that. “You’ll grow,” he said. “It just takes some boys longer than others.” I knew he meant well, but I didn’t think he got what being little did to my psyche.
The night before school began, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake trying to think of ways I could get out of going.
At breakfast the next morning, I said, “Mom, I don’t feel good.”
“You’re just nervous,” she said brightly. “You’ll feel better once you get busy at school.” Not a chance!
Since I had been through a local middle school, Mom reminded me that I would know some of the kids. In our town there were three middle schools, and they all fed into one big high school. As for knowing some of the kids, I guessed I would, but I’d never had any friends in middle school, so I didn’t expect high school to be any different.
The first day, Mom gave me a ride to school. After that I’d be taking the bus. When she pulled up in front of the building, I gave her a quick kiss before reluctantly opening the car door, climbing out, putting on my backpack, sighing, and heading to the front door.
This was my first time in the high school building, and I had no idea where to go. I stood inside the door watching the other kids as they flowed around me, chattering happily with each other.
As I stood watching, a boy who must have been six feet tall came up to me and said, “Hi. You must be in the wrong building. There’s a middle school across the street.”
Blushing, I said, “I’m in the ninth grade, but I don’t know where to go.”
“Really? In ninth grade?” he said. Then, maybe seeing I was embarrassed, he asked, “Do you know your room number?”
“Two one seven,” I said.
“I’ll show you how to get there,” he offered. As we walked down the hallway he said, “I’m Max Carlson. I’m a sophomore.”
“I’m Richard Andrews.”
“Anybody ever call you Dick?” he asked, as we walked up the stairs.
“Yeah, but I don’t like it.”
“Okay, Richard it is,” he said. “What’s your locker number?”
I told him and he led me to my locker. He asked what my combination was, and when I told him, he showed me how to open it.
“Richard, your classroom is just across the hall,” he said. “See ya later.” And with that he was gone.
I put my jacket and my lunch in my locker, closed the door, twirled the lock, and went into my homeroom. It was pretty full. Looking at all those faces, I had this awful feeling I was going to throw up. Now THAT would have been embarrassing! Fortunately, I managed to suppress it.
There was only one empty desk left, so I sat there and stared ahead, listening to the chatter and trying to control my nerves.
The boy across the aisle from me, looked over and said, “The middle school’s across the road.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m in the ninth grade.”
“No way. How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Really?”
I nodded. I was already tired of the questions.
“I’m Reggie,” he said.
“Richard,” I replied before the teacher called the class to order.
As it happened, Reggie and Max were the only kids who spoke to me all morning.
At lunchtime I fished my lunch bag out of my locker and found the lunchroom. As I went in, I heard a voice call, “Richard.” I turned and saw Max waving and pointing to an empty seat next to him. I was surprised to see Reggie sitting there too. I sat and Max introduced me to the other boys at the table. They all said hi but mostly they stared, although they tried to hide it. By the time I’d eaten my lunch I again felt like throwing up.
“I gotta pee,” I announced, standing.
Max told me where the restroom was. I barely made it to a toilet before I lost my lunch. I hated the taste that was left in my mouth and tried to rinse it out but with little success.
As I returned to the lunchroom, I felt a little wobbly, and I prayed nobody would know what I’d just done.
As soon as I sat, Max said, “You look pale. Are you okay?”
“Just nerves,” I mumbled.
The afternoon went like the morning. The teachers all seemed to be happy to see us, but I didn’t speak to anyone, and nobody spoke to me. I never put my hand up and I was never called on.
My last class of the day was gym. I tried to stall in the locker room, hoping the other boys would leave so I could dress in private.
I sat on the bench and faced a locker. Slowly, I removed my shirt and put on my gym shirt. I was stuck. I had to take off my pants. I kept my underpants on as I didn’t have a jockstrap. I tried to do it without the others seeing. Fat chance. Nobody said anything, but I could tell that they knew.
In the gym I handed the teacher my mother’s note. He read it and said, “Try a sports shop. They have clothes even for the peewee football and hockey kids, so they’ll have a strap for you.”
I heard a couple of giggles, and I blushed.
The teacher blew his whistle and told us to line up by height.
Great, I thought, and headed for the end of the line. Reggie, I saw, was in the middle.
The teacher, or as he preferred, the coach counted us off, “One, two, three, four.” When he got to me he said, “Two,” and then announced those were our numbers for the year. Then he called out the names on his class list and we each had to respond with our number. When he got to me he said, “Dick.”
“Richard,” I responded before saying, “two.”
That took most of the rest of the period, so we were just turned loose to shoot baskets. I only shot one free throw, which I made of course, because I couldn’t get any other balls.
As we went back into the locker room for the mandatory showers, the biggest boy in the class said, “You’re Richard?”
I nodded.
“Great,” he said. “From now on you’re Little Dick.”
“Good one, Caleb,” called one of the other boys.
All the boys within hearing snickered. I was furious but what could I do? Nothing.
Reggie called out,” Lay off him, Caleb.”
That surprised me.
“Butt out, jerk,” replied Caleb, and again the boys snickered, but I thought they were a little nervous.
In the showers I stood facing the wall, waiting for the others to leave, but they seemed to hang around. I finally gave up, left the showers, grabbed a towel, and went to my locker.
A kid next to me, Tanner, said, “Hey, Little Dick, how little is it?”
Without looking at him I said, “About five.” I didn’t tell that was centimeters, not inches.
“Wow,” he said, “you’ll be huge when you finish growing.”
I managed to survive the bus ride home, sitting alone as usual.
I told Mom what the coach said about a jockstrap, so that evening we went to a Dick’s Sporting Goods store. Sure enough, they had straps that were even too small for me. I picked out two and we went to the cashier. I was thoroughly embarrassed, but Mom told me to give the woman the straps. The cashier didn’t bat an eye. She rang up the sale, put the straps in a bag, and handed them to me, saying, “Here you go, sweetie.”
Somehow, my answer to Tanner about the size of my dick had gotten around the school, and by the next day in gym everyone was trying to look. In the locker room I covered myself, which just made the others laugh. And they laughed more when I put on my jockstrap.
“I don’t think you really need that,” Tanner said.
“Will you just fuck off,” I muttered under my breath but loud enough so that I was sure he heard me.
“Yeah,” put in Reggie.
“Sorry,” Tanner said, but I just ignored him. I knew he wasn’t really sorry.
By the second week of school, things had calmed down for me, although I was known all over the school as Little Dick, snicker, snicker. Even the girls were calling me that.
In the late fall it was announced that the school was going to put on a performance of “A Christmas Carol.” Guess who got picked for Tiny Tim. I didn’t try out or anything. About the last thing I wanted to do was be in a play, especially in the part of a little boy, but when the cast list was posted, there was my name. Damn!
I went to the play’s director and told her I didn’t want to be in the play.
Then why did you sign up for it?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” I said.
“Isn’t this your name on the sign-up sheet?”
I looked and felt like cursing. Someone had put my name on the list.
“Yeah, that’s my name, but I didn’t write it.”
““Well, it’s too late to change it now,” she said. “You’ve been cast and that’s that.”
I complained to Mom, hoping she could get me out of it, but she thought it was wonderful that I’d be in the play. So much for depending on Mom. She really had no idea.
I had to go to rehearsals after school, but once I got over my embarrassment, I discovered that the rehearsals were sorta fun. The other cast members were nice to me, and the good thing for me was that Max got cast as Bob Cratchit.
Tiny Tim was not a big part, but I had to learn to use a crutch, and a couple of times Max was directed to carry me around on his shoulders.
By then Max and I had become quite good friends. He’d been to my house a few times and I’d been to his. Kids at school thought it was funny that I was friends with a six-footer, but Max put an end to that bit of humor, mostly just by scowling at anyone who giggled.
For the dress rehearsal we had costumes and make-up, and I decided that was maybe the best part of being in the play.
There were to be two night-time performances, and because of the size of the auditorium, tickets were required. I got one for Mom for the first night and asked her not to sit too near the front.
As the cast assembled for the first performance, I was very nervous. My stomach was acting up and even though I’d eaten almost nothing I was afraid I’d barf on stage or, even worse, on Max. When I told him that, he gave me a couple of tablets to calm my stomach and they seemed to work.
At the beginning of the play, I waited in the wings for my part. Most of the cast did pretty well, although the Ghost of Christmas Past forgot a couple of lines. I could have called them out to him, but I decided that wasn’t a good idea.
Max did a great job. Not only did he remember all of his lines, he really acted.
I don’t remember a lot about my stage debut, but at least I didn’t screw up my lines.
At the end of the play, Max lifted me up on his shoulders and I called out, “God bless us every one!” All the cast cheered. The audience stood and joined in the cheering and then cheered each cast member as we took bows.
It took me some time to take off my costume and makeup, but Mom waited for me. We met Max and his family at the ice cream shop and had a great time celebrating.
The next day at school a lot of kids congratulated me, and, surprise surprise, not one of them called me Little Dick.
As I was walking down a hallway between first and second period, I heard, “Hey, Richard.”
I turned and there was Reggie coming towards me.
When he got to me, he said, “You were really good in the play, Richard.”
I thanked him and then turned away because I had a tear in my eye. It annoyed me. After all, high school boys don’t cry. Fortunately, nobody saw.
About that time I began to feel some pain in my shins. I had no idea why, but I decided to ask Mom to take me to the doctor after Christmas.
Mom and I usually went to the midnight service at the Episcopal church on Christmas Eve. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not religious and I don’t think she is, either. For us, the service is maybe more a cultural event than a religious one.
We both got dressed up, and just before we left for the church she said, “Richard, stand over here in the light.”
I did as she asked. She looked at me for a moment and then asked, “Do you have any dark socks?”
I was puzzled. What difference did that make? “I guess,” I said.
“Please change out of the white ones,” she said.
Shrugging, I went to my room to change, although I didn’t understand why she said to.
As we were walking to the church, I asked her what difference the socks made.
“Well,” she said, “there’s a gap between the cuffs of your trousers and your shoes, so a lot of white was showing. I think you must have grown.”
Grown? Me, grown? I never grew, or at least I’d felt that way for a long time.
I always enjoyed the Christmas Eve service. The music was special, I enjoyed singing the carols, and I loved the smell of the pine boughs at the ends of the pews.
Our Christmas day was quiet. I no longer hung a stocking and there were just a couple of gifts under our little artificial tree.
The next morning, Mom measured me on my door jamb. There was a series of little marks which she had made recording my height from time to time. I hadn’t been measured for a while as the process had begun to discourage me. It turned out that I had grown more than two inches.
I told her about the pains in my shins and she asked, “Have you ever heard of growing pains?”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just a saying.”
She assured me that growing pains were real and I was apparently feeling them.
That afternoon, Mom took me shopping for new pants. For the first time I was in the department for older boys. I came home with three new pairs of trousers.
Mom did take me to the doctor, who confirmed that I was feeling growing pains. I told him that the pains were worth it if I was really growing.
Back at school after vacation, I told Max about my growing. “Yeah,” he said, “I thought you were growing the last few times I had to lift you onto my shoulders.”
We high-fived and went to class.
On a Friday afternoon a few days later, as I was riding the bus home, I heard a commotion from some of the kids at the front. Then I began to see flashing blue and red lights ahead of us. When we got to my stop, I realized the lights were at my house. Fearing the worst, I got off the bus and looked at my house. Flames were pouring out the windows and through the roof. Firemen were doing their best to quell the flames, but I could see it was hopeless. There were policemen around, holding off traffic and keeping people away from the site.
Shit, I thought, what should I do now? I tried to call Mom, but she wasn’t answering her phone. I called Max and he said he’d be right over.
By the time he arrived, I was a basket case. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, “What shall I do? It’s all gone.”
He took my hand and said, “Come with me.” We walked to his house, where I threw myself on the couch in the living room. He sat beside me, with an arm around my shoulders and stroked my chest gently.
“I know this is a disaster for you, Richard, but at least for now you can stay here.”
“What about Mom? She doesn’t even know.”
“We have a guest room she can use.”
“But you haven’t asked your parents,” I stammered through my tears.
“I don’t have to, Richard. I know they’ll welcome you.”
I was doubtful but too upset to question further. About an hour later, I tried to call Mom again. This time she answered, and I told her what had happened. Then I said she should come to Max’s house when she could.
By the time Mom got to Max’s home, Max’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Carlson, had arrived and assured me that Mom and I were welcome.
Mom arrived in tears. We sat on the couch just hugging each other. When our tears finally stopped, we had supper with Max and his parents. Max showed Mom to the guest room, while he and I went to his bedroom. Nobody had said anything about the fact that Max and I would be sleeping together. At least nobody complained about it.
When we were ready to go to bed, Max found me an extra toothbrush. I pointed out that I had no PJs and he said not to worry, that he never wore them. We went into the bathroom together, peed, and brushed our teeth before going back to his room.
Max closed the door and began to take off his clothes. I’d spent time with him, but I’d never seen him without his shirt on. When he took it off I could see he was clearly beginning to develop some muscles which made me feel even scrawnier. I wondered if I would ever grow any muscles.
Reluctantly, I took off my shirt and then my pants, so I was standing in just my underwear.
He watched me and I blushed.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?” he asked.
“Hell, no,” I said. “I’m little and scrawny and ugly.”
“Well, you’re not big yet so your muscles haven’t begun to develop, but you’re not scrawny or ugly, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re just about perfect.”
I could see there was a growing bulge in his underwear, and to be honest, there was one in mine as well. I tried to hide it, but short of obviously covering it with my hands there was nothing I could do.
“You don’t need to hide it,” he said, seeing my discomfort and the reason for it. “I like everything about you.” With that he climbed into bed and motioned for me to join him.
With the shock of the fire and the uncertainty of my future, I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep.
We both slept late the next morning. When I woke up, Max was spooned against my back and his arm was reaching around and across my chest. I could feel his hard cock against my butt.
I stirred and he woke.
“I’ve gotta pee,” I said.
“So do I,” he replied.
We quietly rose and went into the bathroom where we stood at the toilet, holding our boners, with our streams crossing.
“I haven’t done that with another guy since I was eight,” he said, grinning.
“Me either,” I agreed.
Back in his room we stood facing each other. We stood for I don’t know how long, maybe a minute before, without a word, he reached down to my undershorts and found my hard little cock and balls.
I was surprised and shocked.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Well, tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable.”
He worked his hand inside the elastic of my shorts, and I felt the warmth of his hand on my cock.
I almost told him to stop, but then I realized how good his hand felt on me and I kept quiet.
He slid my shorts down and I stood before him, naked, my little cock pointing straight out. I thought about covering myself, but he didn’t give me time. He took off his shorts before he took my hand and led me to his bed where we both lay, facing each other.
By the time we finished, we had brought each other off, my first mutual jerk off. At first I thought I should be ashamed, but I realized I wasn’t. I had enjoyed what we had done. I had felt excited and I was eager to do it again.
“That’s the first time I’ve actually shot cum,” I sighed.
“How did you like it?”
“It was wonderful.” Then I said, “I’m so glad it was with you.”
He nodded and we lay just gently caressing each other.
Mom and I remained with the Carlsons for many weeks while she dealt with the insurance company. It was hard for her because she couldn’t take any time off from work. We did manage to buy some new clothes, not a lot but enough so that we could wear clean ones every day. She also bought me two pairs of PJs. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t wearing them anymore.
By the February vacation, I needed a bigger jockstrap for gym. This time I wasn’t embarrassed at the store. I was really feeling rather proud.
In March, when I was asking a question in class, my voice suddenly cracked. There were a few giggles, but everyone our age knows that a boy’s voice cracking is just a sign that he’s growing up.
At the end of class, Reggie stopped me and said, “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said, and my voice cracked again. We both laughed.
In April I decided that I needed to do something to earn money over the summer. I thought maybe I could mow some people’s lawns.
Checking at a local hardware store, I found something called a ‘lawn sweeper’, which was designed to pick up grass cuttings and leaves. The one the store had was just under $100. It wasn’t as big as some of the others, which I thought was probably good for me. But where would I get $100? We were still waiting for the insurance on the house to come in and I knew Mom didn’t have much cash.
I talked it over with Max and he said he’d loan me the money. At first I said no, but he insisted. When I thanked him, he said he was investing in me and not to worry about repaying the loan until I was ready.
So, I went back to the store, bought the lawn sweeper, and pushed it to Max’s house, where I put it in the garage beside a lawn mower. I was happy because I hated the loud leaf blowers that the pros used. They stank and they made too much noise.
I made up a sign and printed several copies.
At the bottom of the signs I put some tabs with my phone number which people could tear off to take home and call me.
Max and I spent an afternoon after school taping up signs on telephone and light poles in the neighborhood.
By the next day I was getting phone calls and inquiries. I made appointments to talk with people on Saturday.
Most of the people I talked with were interested enough to ask about my prices. I had found out what the professional services charged and quoted a price a good deal lower. The next question I got was about noise. I told them that I used a push mower and a lawn sweeper, so I made little noise.
I made commitments for several houses in the neighborhood and was soon busy after school and on weekends cleaning up leaves remaining from last fall. It was too early for the grass to have grown much, but I knew it wouldn’t be long.
By Sunday night at the end of my first week I was exhausted, and muscles which I didn’t even know existed were aching.
Each night when I went to bed, I was almost instantly asleep. I knew Max had other plans, but I was just too tired.
As the weeks progressed my muscles grew accustomed to the work and I began to enjoy it. I was working outside, earning money for me and Mom, and I was doing something useful for the first time in my life.
Later in the spring, I began removing my shirt as I worked and developed a good tan. I continued to grow stronger. And my voice was getting deeper, too.
When school got out for the summer, I had more time to devote to my work. I thought about taking on more houses, but I didn’t want to be exhausted all summer, so I only continued with the houses I had. That meant that I wasn’t nearly as tired when I went to bed at night.
Mom and I were still at Max’s house. As we got ready for bed one night, he commented on how my body now looked. And since I was no longer as tired, it didn’t take long before he and I were again experimenting with sex. By then I was pretty sure I was gay. Despite the fact that the boys in gym still embarrassed me, I enjoyed seeing their bare bodies in the showers. Whether Max was gay or was only using me until somebody better (and female) came along, I didn’t know. I was quite sure he didn’t love me, and I knew that I didn’t love him, although I really liked him as a best friend. What we had was just a convenient arrangement for us to get our rocks off. And we never got any farther than mutual jerking off.
By the end of the summer, I had grown quite a bit and was now over five-and-a-half feet tall. I’d also continued to bulk up some and my voice was deeper.
On the first day back at school, as I was walking down the hallway, I heard someone say, “Hey, Little Dick, the middle school’s across the street.”
I turned and there was Caleb, my old bully, confronting a small boy. I walked over to the two and with my new, deep voice said, “Knock it off, asshole.”
“Who do you think you are?” he asked, and then he recognized me, the new me. “You,” he said. “I can still punch your lights out.”
“Wanna try?”
One of the teachers walked up, stood between me and Caleb, and said, “Let’s not have trouble the first day back, boys.”
Caleb looked at me and said, "Later,” and strutted off.
The new boy looked up at me and said, "Thanks.”
I couldn’t believe that a kid was actually looking up at me.
The kid and I walked along a little as he said, “I’m Roy.”
“Hi Roy, I’m Richard. Do you know where you’re going?”
He blushed and said, “Not really.”
When I asked him what his homeroom number was, he told me, and I led him up the stairs.
Roy was cute, no he was more than cute. He had dark hair and eyes, and he still sported a nice summer tan. While he was little, he was well proportioned and, thinking of my own experience, I was able to project how he might mature.
“Thanks,” he said after I showed him how to open his locker.
“Look for me at lunchtime,” I said and walked off.
That first day of my sophomore year was certainly different for me from my first day as a freshman. Kids greeted me and talked with me, and I felt like I belonged.
At lunchtime, I sat with some friends but saved a seat for Roy. Max was not with us because juniors and seniors ate on the second shift.
I saw Roy enter the room and look around hesitantly. I waved him over, indicating the empty seat next to me.
Although Roy was about the size I had been the year before, that’s where the resemblance seemed to end. Unlike me, he didn’t appear nervous. Once he was introduced to the other guys, he entered into the chatter. By the end of lunch I was smitten. I suggested we meet after school and get a snack, my treat. He agreed, and off he went happily.
When school ended at 3:15, I waited outside for him to show up. He bounded down the steps and said, “Hi!” before we walked to the local sandwich shop. We both ordered sandwiches and sodas.
“You don’t have to pay for me,” he said. “I’ve got plenty of cash.”
“No,” I answered, “this time is on me to celebrate your beginning high school.”
As we ate I asked him about his family and learned that he was the youngest of three boys. He lived with his parents, but his brothers were older and were away at college. When we were ready to leave, I suggested that I walk to his home with him. He tried to turn me down, but I insisted, not telling him that I really wanted to know where he lived.
Where he lived was a huge, three-storey house with beautiful grounds. He invited me in, and I followed him through the door and into a large, two-storey front hallway with a staircase which wound to upper floors.
We were greeted in the hall by a basset hound which Roy told me was named Bilbo Baggins. Roy introduced me to his mother before we went upstairs to his room on the second floor.
“So, what’s on the third floor?” I asked. He told me that his brothers each had a room up there. In addition, his father had an office while his mom had a sewing room.
Roy’s room seemed ginormous to me. It was very much a boy’s room, with a desk, a double bed, bookshelves, a stereo system, a TV, and a play station. I could tell from his book collection that he was, like me, an avid reader. On his walls were posters of young male movie stars ─ from Bjorn Andresen to Levi Miller, Paul Dano, River Phoenix, and Colin Ford. At the end of the bed was a ramp. I was puzzled by that but didn’t ask.
There were two windows looking out to the backyard and two more on one side. In the back I could see a patio and a pool surrounded by a stockade fence.
“Wow,” I said, “you’ve even got a pool.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “My brothers got me into liking to swim naked. Have you ever done that?”
“No.”
“I love it. It feels so good and it gives a wonderful sense of freedom. Maybe you could come and swim sometime before we close the pool for the winter.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
We sat next to each other on his bed as Bilbo Baggins climbed up the ramp to join us. For a moment we were silent. Then Roy said, “Thanks for your help with that goon this morning.”
“I had trouble with him last year.” I told Roy about being nicknamed Little Dick by Caleb my freshman year, explaining to him that I had been as small as he was.
“I know it’s not easy,” I said, “being the littlest kid in high school.” I told him about throwing up on my first day of school. “But you seem to be more outgoing and have more confidence than I ever did.”
“It’s a survival skill,” he said. “I don’t have nearly the confidence I pretend to have, and when that goon pushed me up against the lockers, I was scared shitless.” Then he asked, “Were you really as small as I am?”
“Yup,” I nodded. “I didn’t believe my doctor when he said I’d grow, but he was right.”
“Good to know,” said Roy. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
By the time I left, I knew I had a serious crush on this boy. He was between cute and beautiful, and I was determined to keep him as a friend.
In the days that followed, I spent as much time as I could with Roy, although my yard work took up much of my time. When we were together, we talked about books, we played video games, we even did our homework together.
The insurance money from the fire finally came through, and Mom and I were able to settle into a two-bedroom apartment about half-way between Max’s and Roy’s homes.
On the first Saturday after school began, I finished my yard work shortly after noon and went to Roy’s house. It was a warm day and I had worked up a good sweat mowing lawns.
“C’mon,” Roy said, “let’s go for a swim.”
We went out through the patio and he led me to a small shed which had a cold water shower attached to an outside wall. Inside the shed we stripped off our clothes and grabbed a couple of towels. We showered briefly and plunged into the pool. Roy was right. Swimming naked felt wonderful!
We swam about, raced some, and got into a splashing contest. “Put your feet apart,” he said, and when I did he swam between my legs, brushing against them. Was the brushing accidental or deliberate? I didn’t know. I tried to swim between his legs, but he couldn’t spread them wide enough, so I twisted under water and rose up with him on my shoulders. Then I tossed him into the water. As we continued to play around, he grabbed me and held me close for a few moments. The skin-on-skin sensations resulted in an immediate boner.
Roy looked down in the water, saw my hard-on, and giggled.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked. “You’ve got one too.”
“Can I touch it?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
His hand was warm and soft.
I reached down and touched his. It too was warm but not soft. I could feel his pulse in it.
We let go of each other and swam for a while longer.
When we finished swimming, we climbed out of the pool, grabbed our towels, and went into the shed to retrieve our clothes.
“That was fun,” I said.
“Come tomorrow and we can do it again.”
I did, but shortly after that the weather turned too cool for swimming, and we didn’t resume it until late spring.
One day in a school hallway, I encountered Max, who seemed to be thoroughly entwined with a girl. He introduced her as Molly, before he mentioned he hadn’t seen much of me lately.
“I’ve been kinda busy,” I said thinking, and so have you, obviously.
Reggie, too, had found a girl.
The next day, as Roy, Bilbo, and I were again sitting on Roy’s bed, he said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
When I nodded, he hemmed and hawed for a bit before asking, “When you were my size could you jerk off?”
That stopped me cold. I had never actually discussed that particular activity with anyone except Max, and very little with him. So, I hesitated before answering, finally saying quietly, “Yeah, but I didn’t shoot cum until partway through the year.”
“Thanks. I’ve been worried that it was never gonna happen.” Then he reached over and hugged me.
“You will,” I said, hugging him back. I really liked that, and I was growing so hard in my pants that I ached to reach in and adjust myself.
“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.
“Never done it,” I replied, as I grew harder and more uncomfortable.
Without another word, he turned me toward him and kissed me gently on the lips. His mouth was warm and soft, and I loved it. I leaned in a little and kissed him back, then, instinctively, I ran my tongue gently along his lips.
By then, I was very uncomfortable down below.
I broke the kiss and said, “Sorry. I gotta adjust myself.”
He giggled. We both reached inside our pants and moved our cocks around. Then we went back to kissing.
Perhaps feeling neglected, Bilbo tried to push himself between us.
“Bilbo,” said Roy, “if you can’t behave, you’ll have to leave.”
I have no idea what Bilbo understood, but he looked up sorrowfully, the only way a basset can look, moved backwards on the bed, lay down, and sighed.
When we returned to our kissing, I felt Roy’s hand inside the front of my T-shirt.
Well, one thing led to another, and we were soon both naked and lying on the bed, hugging and kissing and gently rubbing each other’s chests. I nibbled on one of his nipples and he moaned.
Then I reached down and took hold of his hard cock. Perhaps it wasn’t very big, but I knew it would grow, as mine had.
Soon we were holding each other’s cocks and pumping gently up and down.
“Oh, oh,” Roy said, “that feels so-o-o good.”
I pumped some more, and with a loud “A-a-a-a-a-h” he came, a dry climax although he pulsed several times. That pushed me over the edge, and I shot cum onto his stomach.
We lay on our backs, slowly recovering. Then I leaned over and licked my cum off his tummy.
“I can hardly wait until I shoot,” he said. “Does it feel different?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Even better.”
We heard his mom come into the house and we quickly stood and dressed. Before we went downstairs for me to leave, we kissed each other again.
“Goodbye until next time,” I said.
“I’m glad there will be a next time,” he replied, kissing me once more before we went down to the front hall.
I called Max that night. I wanted to congratulate him on finding a girl and, since I didn’t want him to think I was just ignoring him, I explained what was going on with Roy.
“So, you’re really gay,” he said. It wasn’t a question; it was an observation.
“Yeah. I guess I shoulda told you.”
“No,” he said. “That might have spoiled our time together. But I’m happy for you. You deserve someone to love.”
The next week, Roy shot cum for the first time. “You’re right,” he said, “it does feel great.”
In the days and weeks and months that followed, Roy and I enjoyed hours and hours together. Of course, we engaged in sex. I will never forget the feeling the first time he took my cock in his mouth. At first I was startled, but I hugged him closer as he moved his mouth up and down on it. I had goosebumps. As I felt the familiar tension rising, I warned him I was going to shoot, but he just kept on massaging me with his lips and his tongue. I shot my load into his mouth, and he swallowed it with no hesitation. I was soon licking his cock and then gently sucking it. He came, this time shooting into my mouth. In the days after that we figured out how to sixty-nine.
While there was very frequent sex, there were lots of times when we just enjoyed being together ─ going to movies, talking, and simply walking through nearby woods. We held hands as often as we could. What had begun for me as a crush evolved into true love.
That summer we were in his pool nearly every afternoon, swimming, splashing, and doing a lot of touching.
By my junior year in high school, I was just over six feet tall. Roy grew too, although he never got over five foot nine.
In time we came out to our friends at school. Caleb was the only one to give us a hard time, but he got such a negative reaction from everyone else that he shut up and left us alone.
Reggie, good old caring Reggie, congratulated us and even hugged us.
Molly and Max eventually broke up. Max went to college, found another girl, and when they both graduated, they married. I was his best man.
When I graduated from high school, I took a year off. I expanded my yardwork job and did some snow shoveling to earn money I’d need for college. Roy and I would go together.
In Roy’s senior year, we both came out to our parents. Mom said she’d always known about me. Roy’s parents were surprised at first but, as it became apparent to them that we loved each other, they came to accept our being together. His older brothers were not surprised about him and supported us both.
That year, Bilbo died. We immediately decided to get another basset hound, who we named Frodo Baggins.
By the time we finished college, gay marriage had become legal. We had a simple ceremony for just our parents and a few friends. Max was my best man.
Today Roy and I are living together with our most recent basset hound, Gandalf. We continue to love and care for each other and to thoroughly enjoy each other. In time we were able to buy a house with a pool, and we sometimes have friends over to enjoy skinny dipping with us.
I know that high school romances don’t always last, but ours did. We truly love each other.

The steel door slammed shut behind Robbie. Even for a visitor like him there was an echoing finality about the sound.
“You sure about this whole idea?” Ken asked. “It was being political that got you into trouble in the first place, you know. If you hadn’ta felt like you had to ‘engage’ these guys—”
Robbie pointed an aluminum crutch at him. “Stop being so maternal or I’m gonna shove this up your ass.”
“I bet I’d actually feel it, which is more than I can say about your dick.”
Robbie started to respond, but his heart was not in it. The two of them, along with Murphy, were walking down a brick-walled corridor of Suffolk County Jail. With its lumbering guards and low ceiling, this place was just too oppressive for jokes.
The visitors’ room was empty except for the three people they had come to see. “Wait here,” Murphy said and then went over to speak with his clients. It was clear why Murphy had made them stand at the door. The prisoners were all immediately shouting and arguing with their attorney, gesturing at Ken and Robbie.
When things calmed down, Murphy called them over. A guard with a nightstick hanging at his side took up a position behind the prisoners. Despite everything that had happened, this was actually Robbie’s first good look at his attackers. They were kids, just like him, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Switch their prison orange for blue jeans and there would be no telling them from any other teenager.
“Okay, Robbie,” said Murphy, “I’ve explained to the guys what your proposal is and they’ve agreed to hear you out.”
All three prisoners had folded their hands and sat back, watching with disdain and feigned boredom. Robbie almost laughed. He found that he was not scared of them at all. This would be almost too easy. Not like this morning in the DA’s office.
***
“Are you forgetting what those animals did?” Markham shouted. His anger sounded all the more palpable because of his broad East Texas accent, so out of place here in his Boston District Attorney’s office.
Robbie tried to respond forcefully, but managed more of a squeak. “I just d-don’t think that—”
“You ain’t thinkin’ at all.”
Greg Markham was handsome, even now, with an intense scowl defacing the jovial smile that defined his usual camera-ready image. His rough, mature, good looks and rustic manner had made him a star in Massachusetts politics. Now, Robbie was seeing him in a way the public never did. And this Greg Markham was scary.
Robbie managed to say, “It’s just not fair to my way of think—”
“It’s the fairest thing in the fuckin’ world you little shit! They bust you up, I put ’em away and the public gets to see justice at work. End of story. Everyone’s happy.” Markham turned to one of the assistant DA’s and said, “Can you believe this little idjit?”
Ken’s hold on his hand tightened. Robbie squeezed back reassuringly. Then, he told Markham, “Charging them with a hate crime isn’t right. It’s just a way of punishing them for what they think and I’m not going to be a part of that.”
The speed with which Markham whirled at him was unbelievable. “Don’t tell me what you want. This is my trial. We gonna do things my way! You just do as you’re told.”
And that right there flicked a switch in Robbie. The man’s contempt and refusal to take him seriously was just too much. Before he understood why, he had exploded out of his chair and was leaning across the prosecutor’s desk, nose to nose with the big man.
Robbie spoke slowly. “I know your type, Markham. You’re just too glad to steamroll three punks so you can say, ‘See? Justice’. Your problem is that if you don’t make it a hate crime, then you don’t get the headlines so you can show the world how great you are. You think I don’t know what all this is really about?”
Was that a flicker of guilt in Markham’s gray eyes?
“I read the papers,” Robbie continued. “I know you want to be governor. I know this case is just a tick you need for your resume so you can get liberals to vote for you. You don’t care if it means those guys gotta do two years extra just for thinking bad thoughts.” Robbie’s injured right leg was hurting now, but he refused to sit. “I also know that you can’t win without me or my boyfriend. If we decide we’re not testifying, then you don’t even have a regular old-fashioned assault conviction. I bet that’d go over well with the voters. And you know what? I don’t care if those three guys go free, it’d be worth it to cost you a few points in your election, you pompous piece of shit.”
Markham backed away, a hand holding his forehead, like he’d just been hit by the world’s biggest headache. He signaled to his two assistants and they left. He said, “Ken, I need to speak to Robbie alone. Could you give us some time?”
Ken looked over at Robbie. He clearly did not want to go.
“I’d just tell him everything afterwards anyways,” said Robbie.
“Not this. This has to be just you and me,” said Markham. “Please.”
Robbie could barely believe that Greg Markham had told him ‘please’. “Okay,” Robbie said.
“You sure?” Ken asked, surprised.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
When the door had closed behind Ken, Markham walked around his desk to Robbie and sat on the edge of it. “I think you need to be educated a little bit more about how this world works,” Markham said. He started taking off his jacket.
“This supposed to scare me or something?”
“Just be quiet,” said Markham, unbuttoning his left cuff. He thrust his arm under Robbie’s face and pulled back the sleeve. The scars were unmistakable: the word ‘faggot’ scrawled across the skin.
Robbie could say nothing as he digested just what Markham was telling him.
“But— but you’re married!” he finally blurted.
“Yeah, I’m married. That was a choice I had to make. Tough choices is what life is about. Except you kids don’t know shit about making choices.”
Robbie could not stop staring at the jagged letters in front of him.
Markham continued, “Life isn’t about what makes you happy. It’s about what works. That’s what you don’t understand. The ones who did this to me thirty years ago were just like the ones who came after you. And someday they’re gonna go after someone else if we don’t stop them now. Stop them hard.”
With a tenderness that stunned Robbie, Markham reached out and held his chin. “You know, you’re so beautiful,” the man told him. “You’re young and bright and there’s no weight on your shoulders like with me. If you don’t stop these guys now, they’re going to keep coming back until they’ve taken all that from you.”
“They can’t,” Robbie said.
“Bullshit. This thing on my arm? They carved that with a piece of chicken wire. Had to press it good an’ hard to get it done. I can still remember what every moment of that felt like. Don’t tell me about what they can and can’t take from you, boy…”
Robbie could tell Markham was about to blow his top again. As the man continued to speak, Robbie limped over to him.
"…warning you about. Time after time—"
With a swift hug, pressing into the big man’s chest, Robbie silenced him. Tentatively, Markham slid his hand across Robbie’s back and returned the pressure.
“I’m sorry I misread you,” Robbie said when he finally pulled away.
“So you understand?”
“I understand,” said Robbie. “I still don’t agree with you, but I understand.”
“Then why—"
“Look, you basically said it yourself. Your way is the way things used to be. What guys like you had to put up with back then, I respect that, but this is a different world and—"
“The world doesn’t change that easily, son.”
“Maybe. But I still know what I consider fair and I want you to do things my way. Just give it a shot, okay?”
As he buttoned his shirt back up, Markham said, “It’s a tough man that can keep his principles after he’s had his teeth knocked in. I respect that. I’ll do this your way because of that, if nothing else.”
*** 
“It’s real simple,” Robbie told the three prisoners. “I’ve convinced the DA to drop the hate crimes charge. That’s a lot of prison time I’ve saved you.”
“And what do you want in return, pervert? A night with us?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to come here so you can see that people like me, no matter how much you try to degrade us, we’re still people. I wanted to look you in the eyes so you could see that we’ve got feelings and ideas and codes of honor and everything else that makes people human.”
The one in the middle glared at Robbie, but said nothing. The one on the left stared into space. The one on the right, though, he said, “I’m supposed to respect you now? That it?”
Ken answered before Robbie could. “Maybe you’re too dumb to get it, asshole. Let me simplify it for you a little, okay? If it was up to me, I’d stick your bitch ass in a cell till Jesus comes back, but my boy here’s too nice for his own good. So when you get out of prison earlier than you deserve, I want you to remember that you owe your freedom to a faggot.”
The prisoner Ken was talking to jumped to his feet right then. The guard behind him pressed him right back into his chair. “Siddown, motherfucker!"
“I think it’s time you left,” Murphy said. “You got what you came for, right?”
“Right,” said Robbie.
***
Outside, in the parking lot, Ken started crying.
“Dude,” said Robbie, lifting his boyfriend’s head up, “Dude, relax, it’s cool.”
“I’m sorry, Robbie. I know you wanted to do that all dignified and proper, but I just couldn’t take it no more. I—"
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Huh?”
Ken looked at him with guilt on his face. “When you told me what you wanted to do at the DA’s office, I went along with it because you seemed so serious, but in there, all I could remember was that night. How I felt so useless, you know, watching while they kicked you over and over.”
“They were holding you, Ken, I don’t—"
“Doesn’t change how I felt, not being able to do anything about it. And now, now that I can do something about it, I want to pound them into the ground! I want to make them pay every price there is to pay.”
“See, this is why my way is better,” said Robbie putting a light hand on Ken’s back. “My Ken, the Ken I love, is a different guy from what you’re describing. Once you think about this a little bit, you’ll see I’m right and you’ll be glad we did this.”
“But what if we’re wrong?” Ken asked, taking Robbie’s crutches from him and sticking them in the back of the little gray Hyundai.
“We’re not. Remember the guy sitting on the left? The one who didn’t say anything the whole time?”
“Yeah.”
“When we were leaving, he looked right at me, just for a second and he moved his lips. He said, ‘I’m sorry.’”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding,” said Robbie. “Now get in the car and take me for a burger. I’m starving.”

A minivan pulled into the parking area at the trailhead and three excited teens piled out and began unloading their gear for a three day hike and camping trip. The three had been camping alone before, but their parents had never let them go far from home. Now that the boys were fifteen, their parents had consented to a three day, two night hiking trip through the national forest. They would be on their own in an isolated area and even though their parents had some misgivings, all had agreed that the boys were mature enough to take the trip.
Jason and Jared Turner were identical twins, and Logan Matthews was one of the few people outside their family who could tell them apart. The three had lived their entire lives on the same cul-de-sac in Circle City. When they were five and in kindergarten, something had clicked in Logan's brain and he just knew which twin was which.
When they reached seventh grade and were no longer in a single classroom all day, Jason, who was a math wiz, and Jared, who found history and other social studies to be no problem, would exchange clothes in the boys’ room and take tests for each other in the classes they were good at. As far as they knew, Logan was the only person who was onto their little scam, and since they were all so close, he'd never said anything. In fact, he thought it was cool that they were able to fool the teachers like that. Logan was no slouch in school, either, and all three got decent grades.
The twins’ dad watched as the boys unloaded the car and piled their gear on the grass. “Have you got everything? You won't want to be out in the woods and find that you've forgotten something crucial.”
“Yeah, Dad. We're sure. We've triple checked the list and packed everything.”
“Okay, boys, have fun and remember the rules. Stay together and stick to the route you marked out on the map for us. Remember, there's a lot of bears out there and they're filling up for the winter. We don't want any of you to become bear chow.”
“Awww, Dad, we’re not little kids anymore.”
“I know,” he said, grabbing the twins into a hug, “but you’ll always be my little boys no matter how big or old you get.” Then he reached over and grabbed Logan, pulling him into a group hug. “You’ll all always be my little boys.”
Jared was the first to pull away. “So, Dad, don’t you think it’s about time for you to leave?” he asked, grinning.
“Ha ha ha. Okay, I can take a hint. You boys have fun and stay safe. Logan’s dad will pick you up the day after tomorrow at the Willow Lake trailhead at four pm.” As he was pulling out of the parking area, he gave the boys a honk and a wave.
“Jeez! I thought he’d never leave.” Jared said. “Come on, dudes, the wild is calling us.”
The climb was easy for the first couple of hours, but then the trail became steeper. The easy chatter and joking that had passed the time in the beginning were replaced by heavy breathing and an occasional grunt as the trail wound its way to the top of the ridge. As they passed a milepost, Jared pulled out the trail guide and looked at it. “Just about a mile left to the ridge, guys. We can have lunch there.”
“A mile?” Jason moaned. “Oh, God, why did I let you guys talk me into this? I can’t go any farther until I rest some.”
“Come on, Jase, it’s only a mile and then it’s an easy hike to the trail fork for Devil’s Canyon. We can rest awhile after we have lunch,” Logan said.
“No way! I’m not moving another step until I rest some. Why aren’t you guys as wasted as I am? I know I’m in as good condition as you are.” Jared never answered; he just smiled. Jason frowned at his brother. “Okay, dickhead, what’s in my pack?”
“Just regular camping stuff.”
“Regular camping stuff like what?”
Jared shrugged his shoulders. “You know, just regular stuff. Toilet paper, ground cloth, some dried food, a couple bricks, canned food…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. A couple bricks? You put a couple bricks in my pack?”
“Well, actually it was three.”
Jason glared at his brother and dropped his bag on the ground and started unpacking it. “Why the hell did you put bricks in my pack?”
“It just seemed like the right thing to do,” Jared said, shrugging his shoulders.
“You are such an ass sometimes.”
Logan was sitting on his pack and laughing at the twins’ antics. What made it even funnier was that he knew that if Jason had packed the bags, he would have done the same thing to Jared. For over ten years he’d been watching the twins pull dirty tricks on each other. They’d fight about it, and as soon as they calmed down, they’d just go on like nothing had happened.
He envied them for the closeness they shared. He had a younger sister and they were close, but theirs was a different kind of closeness. It was more of a protector/protected closeness and not a companion/confidant closeness. Logan and the twins were the best of friends, but even that paled next to the relationship the twins shared. He often wondered what it would be like to be so close to someone that you could share secrets without worrying they’d tell someone else. His laughing stopped as soon as the word “secret” manifested itself. He couldn’t laugh anymore.
Neither of the twins noticed that Logan had stopped laughing as they continued to bicker. “Look at all this canned stuff,” Jason complained. “This is way more than I can eat. You’ve given me two of everything.” The realization hit Jason like a slap at the back of the head. “You turd breath! I’ve been carrying your food, too! You are so gonna die!” Jared just smiled sheepishly and then started ducking the cans being thrown at him. “If you’re gonna eat it, you can carry it!”
Jason carefully replaced the gear from his pack while Jared picked up cans and dumped them into his. Although the twins were so much alike physically that few could tell them apart, there were pronounced differences in their personalities. Jared was more impatient and tended to jump into things, as well as being on the hotheaded side and a poor loser. Jason was more reserved and tended to be calmer in his reactions to new or unusual situations. Jason also tended to defer to his brother nearly all the time. It wasn't that Jason was a follower as much as he disliked confrontation.
Jason put his pack back on and fastened the belly strap while Jared was kicking through the weeds beside the trail, as if he'd lost something. “Come on, Jared, Let's get moving.”
“I can't yet. I can't find my fruit cocktail. You know I like it…where the hell did you throw it?”
“How am I supposed to know where it is? If it'd been in your pack, where it belonged, you wouldn't have lost it.”
“Damn!” Jared said, pulling his own pack on. “What kind of camping trip will this be with no fruit cocktail?”
“Hello, Earth to Logan. Anyone in there?”
Logan was still lost in his thoughts when he realized Jared was talking to him. He looked up into Jared’s smiling face. “Sorry, I guess I was daydreaming.”
“Well, wake up then, dude, and let's get a move on.”
Jared started up the trail and Logan fell in a few paces behind him, with Jason bringing up the rear. They'd gone a couple of hundred yards when Logan noticed that Jason was walking beside him.
“Hey,” Jason said.
“Hey, yourself.”
“You okay, dude?”
“Yeah, I'm doing okay. Why?”
“Well, you just seem a little out of it today. If something's bothering you, you can talk it over with us, you know.”
“No…I'm fine. I've just been thinking about some things lately.”
“Well, when or if you need to talk, we're here to listen.”
“I know, dude. Thanks.”
It took the boys a half hour to reach the ridge, and they stopped there to eat the sandwiches their mothers had fixed for their first lunch.
“What did you get?”
“Peanut butter and jelly and a ham and cheese. What about you?”
“She made me the opposite.”
“The opposite?”
“Yeah, ham and cheese and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“You guys are so whacked!” laughed Logan.
“Yeah? Well, at least we have some variety in our lives, mister roast beef sandwiches.”
“I don't always have roast beef.”
“Oh yeah? What have you got then?”
“I haven't looked.”
“Well then, look.”
Logan was laughing inside because he knew what he'd find. His mom always made roast beef sandwiches when he needed a packed lunch. He pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it, and took a bite.
“Well, what is it?” Jared asked.
“I’m tasting it to see, right now.”
“You don’t have to taste it, just look at it and you can tell.”
“It looks like a piece of meat in between two slices of bread.”
“Quit stalling, asshole. What is it?”
“Okay, okay, it’s roast beef,” Logan said, laughing.
“YES! Jared is right once again! When will you losers learn not to disagree with me? I’m not wrong very often, and even when I’m wrong, I’m more right than either of you.”
Logan just rolled his eyes and continued eating his sandwich, but Jason was giving Jared an angry look. “You know, your crap gets really old these days. Why don't you grow up?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your attitude. Jeez, Jared, you act like a two-year-old. If you're right about something or win a bet, you gloat. If you're wrong or lose a bet, you go berserk and accuse people of cheating just to make you look bad. You seriously need to grow up.”
“It's called self confidence, li’l bro.”
“No, it's called arrogance, and being five minutes older doesn't make you my big brother. We're the same size, and those five minutes don't count because you used them to tell the doctor what you thought he’d done wrong in delivering you. You're a know-it-all that can't stand to be wrong about anything.”
Logan listened to the brothers arguing but didn't say anything. He'd heard that argument before, and he wasn't about to take sides, although he did agree with what Jason was saying. Jared's temper was legendary at school and in the neighborhood, and it had landed him in detention more times than he could count.
When they were ten and in fifth grade, Jared had gotten angry over a lost dollar bet on the World Series and had broken Jonny Walker's nose, giving it a permanent crook. Jared ended up in anger management counseling, and after only three or four sessions, he convinced the therapist it was just two boys fighting and the therapist gave him a clean bill of health and allowed him to return to school. That incident gave Jared a “badass” reputation, and even though he wasn't a bully, most kids steered clear of antagonizing him.
The twins finished their argument and sandwiches and the three boys put on their packs and started up the trail along the ridge.
“Only about an hour to the Devil’s Canyon trail spur, so we should get to our campsite for the night with plenty of time to spare,” Jared said.
The boys made sure to make plenty of noise as they walked, to warn bears and other wild animals they were there. It wouldn't be much fun to surprise a bear that was eating berries along the trail. Jared was in the lead and was singing “99 Bottles of Beer” over and over. Logan was next in line and he occasionally joined in the singing, but mostly he was quiet. Jason brought up the rear and nervously kept checking the trail behind them. He wasn't so worried about bears, but he knew that cats were curious and he was afraid some cougar would decide to see what all the commotion was about. He was last in line, so if the cougar decided it needed a teen for dinner, he would be the most likely target. The fact that no cougars had been seen in that area for twenty-five years didn't impress him. He thought cats were sneaky and were only seen when they wanted to be seen.
“Looking for cougars?” Jason hadn't realized that Jared and Logan had stopped, and he was startled to hear his brother's voice so close. Jared knew of his brother's fear of cougars and delighted in teasing him when they were camping. Jared was standing there smirking at him and even Logan looked amused.
“Screw you, Jared.”
“Come on, guys,” Logan said. “You can argue later. We're at the cut-off and we still have an hour to go to get to the camping area.”
“Cut-off?” Jason asked.
“The Devil’s Canyon trail,” Jared told him.
“We're not supposed to take that trail. We told our parents we'd stay on the main trail.”
“The main trail's for little kids and old people,” Jared snorted. “We took a vote and decided to take the Devil's Canyon trail.”
“No one asked me to vote.”
“You weren't there when we voted and it wouldn't have mattered if you were because you'd have lost since we both voted yes. That's how democracy works, li’l bro. The majority rules,” Jared said.
“I don't like this, guys. Our asses will be in the wringer if our parents find out.”
“They won't find out.”
“What if something happens to one of us? If the rangers have to come rescue us, they'll find out.”
“The only thing that might happen is that you'll get eaten by a cougar and Logan and I can just say it carried you up there to eat you,” Jared said, laughing.
“Come on, Jason,” Logan spoke up. “It'll be okay. That trail's shorter and has more to look at. All the main trail has is trees.”
“Okay, but I want it clear that I'm only going under protest and because Dad told us to stay together.”
“Gotcha, bro. Your protest is noted and your ass duly covered.” Jared laughed.
“If we get there before it's too late, we can pick some berries for desert with our dinner,” Logan said.
Jason looked at him in shock, “You have got to be kidding! You want us picking berries in bear country? We might as well print some signs in bear talk, and hang them on our backs. 'Today's special meat, teen boys to go along with your naturally sweet berries'.”
“We'll sing while we pick.” Jared laughed. “Come on, guys, the devil awaits us.”
“God, I hope not.” Jason said.
* * *
“Hey, look up there.” Jared was pointing up at a dark opening in the canyon wall.
“It’s a cave. Big deal,” Jason said. He was still unhappy about going into Devil’s Canyon, though he privately conceded that it saved them a considerable amount of walking.
“What do you suppose is in it? I think we should take a look.”
“What are you trying to do? There could be a bear in there, and you want to go disturb it?”
“Don’t be stupid. There’s no way a bear could climb up to the cave — it’s too steep. The only animal that’s likely to be there is a cougar.” Jared was smirking.
Logan stared up at the cliff wall. “I think I can see a way up, but it won’t be easy. We’d have to leave our packs down here.”
“That’s that, then. We can’t leave our packs where something can get them, and there’s no way I’m going anywhere that a cougar could be sleeping.” Jason walked past the others and took the lead. “Come on.”
He had taken several steps before he realized the others weren’t following. He glanced back to see them contemplating the climb.
“You can’t be serious!”
Logan grinned. “Why not? You never know what we’ll find.”
“Exactly!”
Jared shrugged off his pack. “I’m going to give it a go. Who’s with me?”
“I’m staying here,” Jason said firmly.
“Scaredy cat. Why don’t you grow some balls, li’l bro?”
“I’ve got balls, but I don’t see the point in being suicidal. We’re not supposed to be here in the first place, remember?”
“I’ll do it,” Logan said, “but I think we should climb up one at a time. Would you like me to go first?”
“I’ll go first and show Jason that there’s nothing to be scared of, and then maybe he’ll join us once we’re up there.” Jared rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms before putting a hand to the wall.
“Someone has to mind the packs if you two are going to be crazy. Don’t expect me to rescue you, either,” Jason said.
Jared laughed as he started to climb. He quickly fell silent as he maneuvered his way up the wall. A couple of minutes later, he pulled himself into the cave’s entrance.
“It looks like it might be fairly deep,” Jared called back. “No sign of animal droppings, Jason, so it looks like you’ll be safe for a while longer.” He chuckled.
Jason’s scowl deepened when he saw Logan smiling.
“It’s a bit dark in here, but I can make out something. It looks like a… ” Jared’s voice cut off in mid-sentence.
“Jared? What’s wrong?” Jason glanced at Logan, whose smile was starting to slip. “Stop playing games, Jared. It’s not funny.”
In the silence that followed, Logan and Jason stared at each other.
“He’s probably trying to scare us,” Logan said quietly, but Jason knew his friend was concerned, too. “I’m going up.”
“LOO…” Jared’s voice was cut off again.
Logan started climbing immediately, while Jason slipped off his pack and looked around for another place to ascend. Taking more risks than he normally would, Jason clambered into the cave at the same time as Logan.
“Jared?” Jason called out.
Logan and Jason stepped cautiously into the darkness, letting their eyes adapt to the dim light. They saw what appeared to be a prone figure about ten feet in.
“Jared!” Jason moved forward and knelt next to the body. He rolled it over to confirm it was his brother. Jared was unconscious.
A scream from behind him, that was cut off almost immediately, had Jason spinning around. Logan and an orange figure were silhouetted against the light from outside. The other person had a hand over Logan’s mouth and was holding something that glinted against Logan’s neck.
“Don’t move, kid, or your friend gets a new mouth.” The gravelly voice sent a shiver through Jason’s body. He had previously liked the Australian accent, but when the stranger used it, it sounded ominous.
“What did you do to my brother?” Jason blurted out before realizing he might be putting Logan at risk.
“Just a little bump on the head. He didn’t stay quiet when I told him to. Now, are you going to behave, or should I use your friend here to teach you a lesson?” The guy took his hand away from Logan’s mouth, but kept the knife firmly against his throat.
“Do whatever he wants, Jason!” Logan’s voice held more than a small note of fear.
“What do you want?” Jason asked, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t doing anything.
“You can start by taking off your shoes.”
“What?” Jason just stared. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the guy was wearing orange overalls that he belatedly recognized as a prison uniform. There was a medium-security prison about twenty miles to the west. 
“Don’t talk back to me if you want your friend here to stay healthy. TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES!”
Jason hurriedly fumbled off his hiking boots. He tossed them towards their captor.
“Pick them up and take out the laces, you stupid idiot. Once you’ve got the laces out, you can toss the shoes away. You can do the same to the kid’s on the floor, too.”
Jason’s mind was churning while he did as he was told. He realized that he wouldn’t be able to run away without shoes, but he didn’t understand what the guy wanted with the shoelaces.
“What’s your name, kid?” the guy asked Logan.
“Logan.”
“And the other kid’s Jason, is that right?”
Jason glanced up from where he was removing his brother’s boots to see Logan giving a small nod.
“What about that first brat? What’s his name?”
“Jared.”
“Twins with names starting with ‘J’. How cute.” The sneer in the man’s voice was obvious.
There was silence while Jason finished his task. He tossed Jared’s boots into the corner where he had already thrown his own and stood up, the laces in his left hand.
“Good boy. Now rolled him back onto his stomach and tie his hands behind his back with some of the laces. Then lie face down in the corner over there while I check what you’ve done.”
Jason did what he was told. He wondered if they were going to get out of the situation alive, but he knew that he had to do what he was told, while watching and waiting for an opportunity to escape.
Once he had tied Jared up, Jason moved to the side and lay on the ground.
“Hands behind your head.”
Jason did what he was told. He turned his head so he could watch what was going on.
The guy made Logan kneel next to Jared and then he pulled on the cords. He pushed Logan away and quickly put his knife to Jared’s throat.
“Your turn, Logan. Shoes off, laces out, and tie up your friend.”
A few minutes later, all three boys were lying face down with their hands tied behind their backs. Logan had tried to resist when the guy started to tie him up, but stopped when their captor calmly reached over and put the knife against Jason’s throat.
“Now what should I do with you? The smart thing would be to finish you off so you can’t tell anyone I was here.”
“No! We’ll do whatever you want. Don’t kill us!” Jason and Logan were frantic as both spoke at once. Jason yanked his arms apart to see if he could escape his bonds, but the heavy boot laces showed no signs of breaking.
The guy laughed. “Don’t worry — I’m no murderer. Now, if Pete had caught you, that would be different, but I’m a nice guy.” He sneered. “There’s only one person I’d happily kill, and you’re not on that list.”
He moved over to the entrance. “I’m going to check your packs to see what you’ve got. I won’t be long, and if I find you’ve moved or tried to escape, I won’t be happy.” With that, he was gone.
“Is Jared still out?” Logan whispered.
Jason turned his head to check his brother. “Yeah. Hopefully not for too much longer, though. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. Wait a sec.” Logan rolled over and flipped himself up onto his feet.
“What are you doing? What if he comes back?”
“Cool it, Jason. He’s not going to be back right away. I’m going to watch from the entrance. That’ll give us a couple of minutes warning as he climbs up. You check Jared.”
Jason rolled over and nudged his brother. Jared moaned and shook his head. Jason continued to try to wake him up while Logan kept a lookout.
* * *
The boys watched as Bruce Coleman devoured the food from their packs. Bruce had given his name after a tentative query from Jason, after the Australian had carried the backpacks up into the cave.
“Don’t want to leave any evidence around,” Bruce said as he dumped the packs and sorted out the food.
In between bites, Bruce had told them that he and two other prisoners had escaped the night before. They had then split up to go their own ways.
“To be honest, I wouldn’t put it past Pete to have slit some throats if he had the chance, and I don’t want to be involved with that.”
“You were quick enough to threaten to cut our throats,” Logan said.
Jason nudged him. “Shhhh”
Bruce laughed. “I was bluffing… at least I think I was.” He frowned. “I don’t want to go back there, I really don’t.”
“What were you in for?” Jared asked.
Jason tensed. He didn’t know what Logan and Jared thought they were doing, but he was afraid that they would provoke Bruce into doing something violent.
Bruce scowled. “It was all the bitch’s fault. We had a good time, but the next day she must’ve had second thoughts. She went bleating to the cops, telling them stories about how I raped her.” He snorted. “She was squealing while I was nailing her, but I could tell that was with delight. You watch my words, boys — women are bitches. The judge believed her lies and put me away.”
After Bruce had finished eating most of their food and drinking their drinks, he sat back and stared at the boys. Jason stiffened at the calculating look on the older guy’s face.
“Now, what am I to do with you?” Bruce mused.
“You could just let us go,” Jason suggested.
“True, and I probably will. The question is when, where and how? I can’t let you set the cops after me, so I have to make sure I’m well away before you get free. On the other hand, I could use you to negotiate a getaway vehicle. It’s a pity none of you are girls, or I could have some fun, too. It’s been too long…”
An evil leer appeared on Bruce’s face. He rose to his feet, walked over to Logan, and grabbed him by the hair. Bruce pulled Logan’s head back. “You’re a pretty one. What would you be willing to do if I offered to let your friends go?”
Logan spat in his face. Bruce slapped him — hard. Logan toppled over and hit his head on the ground.
“Lucky for you I’m not into that stuff. I was just playing, but you can’t take a joke — just like that bitch.”
Bruce stepped back. “I’ll be back. Don’t move if you know what’s good for you.” He headed out of the cave and started to climb down.
“You okay?” Jason whispered to Logan.
“Apart from a sore head, yeah.”
“We’ve got to get away. He’s crazy!” Jared said, keeping his voice low.
“But how?” Jason asked.
“Can you reach into my jeans pocket?” Jared asked.
“I think so.” Jason wiggled over and turned his back on his brother so he could use his hands. “What’s in there?”
“My keys… and my Swiss army knife.”
Jason stopped momentarily in surprise, and then redoubled his efforts. He had forgotten that his brother kept a cheap Swiss army knife on his key ring. It was useless for almost everything, but the blade should be good enough to cut the laces.
“Of course! Hurry, Jason. We don’t know how long before he gets back.” Logan looked anxiously at the cave entrance.
“He’s still too big for us,” Jason said just as his hands found the keys. “I’ve got them!”
“It’ll need all three of us, but I think we can take him,” Jared said.
“What if he gets back before we’re all free?” Jason asked.
“We’ll have to distract him somehow.” Logan tilted his head to one side as he thought. “I’ve got an idea — leave me to last.”
Jason found the knife. He had just gotten the blade out when they heard the sound of someone scrambling up the cliff. The boys quickly returned to their previous positions. Jason tried to maneuver the knife so that he could saw at his bonds, but the knife was too short. All he succeeded in doing was cutting his arm.
Bruce clambered over the edge and stretched before entering. “That’s better. I needed a piss.”
“I need to go, too,” Logan said.
Bruce blinked. “Well, go then.”
“How? I’m tied up, remember?”
“Watch it, smartass. Yeah, I suppose you’re too big to want to wet your pants, though I should make you do that after what you did earlier.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I just need to go.”
“Well, I’m not going to get it out for you.” Bruce looked around. “Lets see… nah. Not in here, or I won’t be able to sleep from the stink. Outside it is.” He beckoned to Logan. “Get up and come over here.”
Logan clambered up and joined Bruce at the entrance. Bruce pulled out his knife.
“I’m going to untie your hands, but if you try anything, I’m not going to hold back. I don’t want to kill you, but if you try to get away I won’t have much choice. Understand?”
Logan glanced back at Jason and Jared. He winked, which made Jason realize what Logan wanted him to do. Jason wriggled over to his brother. “Give me your hands,” he whispered.
Bruce grabbed Logan by the shoulders and shook him. “I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Yeah, I understand. I’ll be good.”
“Okay. Don’t move until I tell you.” Bruce put the knife between his teeth and then started working on undoing the knots holding Logan.
Jason felt for Jared’s bonds, and then used the blade to saw at them. It wasn’t working.
“Okay, now stand there and piss off the side. I’ve got the knife ready if you try to do anything,” Bruce said.
There was a short pause. Jason wondered if he had the knife upside down, so he tried using the other edge and was immediately rewarded with the feel of the small blade cutting into the shoelace.
“I can’t go with you watching me. Can’t you look away?” Logan asked.
“Nice try, punk. You either go now, or you can go in your pants later. Your choice.”
Jason cut one more lace, and then felt the knife being grabbed out of his hands. Seconds later, he felt the blade sawing at his own bonds.
When his hands were free, Jason started to bring them forward to rub some life into them. The laces had been cutting into his skin and his hands were tingling from the sudden increase in blood flow.
Jared grabbed him. “Wait,” he whispered.
Jason looked and saw that Jared was sitting with his hands behind his back, as if they were still tied.
“Do up your pants, kid, and then go back inside slowly and lie face down.” Bruce held his knife at Logan’s back.
Jason saw Logan glance back towards them. He nodded, hoping Logan would understand. Jason glanced at Jared and saw that he had grabbed a small rock. Jason felt around behind himself and closed his hands on something similar.
Logan was down on one knee when he suddenly rolled and kicked upwards into Bruce’s groin. Jared and Jason jumped up and started to pummel the momentarily stunned Australian. Logan grabbed a rock and joined in.
A couple of minutes later, Jared and Jason were pulling Logan away. Bruce was a mass of blood and was out cold.
“Easy, dude. We can stop now,” Jared said.
“Let me at him! Let me go!” Logan struggled against Jared’s grip.
“Stop it, Logan. He can’t do anything now. It’s over.” Jared held tight until Logan slumped.
Jason grabbed the shoelaces that had held Logan and used them to tie up Bruce. He took the laces from Bruce’s shoes and used them to bind Bruce’s feet together.
“You okay, now?” Jared asked Logan. Logan nodded, not raising his head.
Jared and Jason exchanged worried looks. Something had come over Logan and they didn’t know what to make of it.
“What now?” Logan asked.
“We need to get our boots and find somewhere to call 911,” Jared said.
“Do we just leave him here?” Jason asked, glancing down at the unconscious body.
“Maybe a cougar will come along and kill him,” Logan snarled, as he gave Bruce a kick.
“Steady, dude! We don’t want to wake him.”
“If he wakes up, I’ll gladly pound him back to sleep.” Logan went to kick Bruce again, but was stopped when Jared pulled him back.
“What’s up with you, dude? You’re going crazy on us!”
“You heard him. He’s a rapist! He deserves anything that happens to him.”
“Logan,” Jason started. He waited until his friend looked at him before continuing. “You kept saying something weird while we were beating him up. What’s going on, dude?”
Logan went pale. “What do you mean, weird?”
“You kept yelling, ‘You’re not my dad’ as you thumped him. You know he’s not your dad.”
Logan looked away. Jason waited a moment and then stepped forward and put a hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan flinched.
“You can talk to us, Logan. We’re your mates!”
“You have to promise never to tell anyone. I mean it, too. If you let one word out to anyone, that’s it — our friendship is over.”
Jason and Jared raised their eyebrows. “Sure, dude. We promise.”
Logan stepped over to the entrance and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. Jason and Jared joined him; Jason on the left, Jared on the right. Jason glanced back nervously, hoping that the Australian would stay unconscious.
“I found out a couple of months ago that my dad isn’t my real dad. He’s always treated me like his real son, but I’m not… and he knows it.”
Jason considered and discounted the possibility that Logan was adopted. That left the other possibility that had jumped into his mind. “Your mom had an affair?”
Jason rocked back when Logan snapped at him. “NO! She was raped!”
Jason’s mouth dropped open. On the other side of Logan, Jared’s reaction was the same.
“My real dad is someone like that.” Logan pointed behind them with his thumb. He then spat over the side of the cliff. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? My real dad is someone who treated my mom as a sex object, and then threw her aside. Yeah, that scum back there isn’t my real dad, but he’s the sort of person who is.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jared stammered.
“Then don’t say anything!” Logan stood up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Fifteen minutes later they had put their boots back on, using what was left of their laces to tie them up, and were heading up the canyon. There was a cloud hanging over them that kept all of them quiet. It was only after they had found a place where they could get a signal and had called the police that Jason broke the silence.
“You know you’re wrong,” Jason said to Logan. “Your dad is your real dad. The person you’re thinking of was just a sperm donor. He’s not important. Your dad is the one who raised you.”
“And me? How do you think of me now that you know?” Logan sounded nervous.
Jared laughed. “You’re still a blockhead, so no change as far as I’m concerned.”
Jason smiled. “You’re still our best friend. It could have been worse, you know.”
“Worse?”
“Yeah, you could’ve had Jared as a brother. Now that’s a fate worse than death.”
“You’re so dead, li’l bro.” Jared jumped Jason and wrestled him to the ground.
Logan felt a grin slip across his face as a weight left his mind. His friends still accepted him.

“Welcome to the party of the year,” Cole said.
Brett sat down at the second control panel and looked out the window that overlooked the large hall, which was packed with students. Newly built and not too far from the college, the building provided an ideal location for large parties and other major functions.
“I wouldn’t’ve missed this for anything. I’ve never known one of Peter’s parties to be a dud, so I can’t believe his dad built this place just because Peter asked.”
“Yeah, I know. Some people have too much money, if you ask me. It looks like Peter’s gone all out to make the first party here a smash. I think some of the decorations are outrageous, but hey, it’s Halloween.
“What are you dressed as, anyway?”
Brett looked down at his costume before looking back at Cole. “The Green Goblin, of course! What about you? You’re just wearing a suit. A real surprise, I have to admit, but not particularly appropriate to the season.”
Cole smirked. “I’m that real horror, the one that even vampires wish they could be.” He paused to let Brett’s curiosity build, and then added, “I’m a lawyer.”
Brett’s mouth twitched but he managed to avoid smiling. “Hmmm… I suppose that’s better than some of the costumes. One couple I saw when I arrived were wearing Saddam Hussein and Condoleezza Rice masks — not a pretty sight.”
He glanced out the window and frowned as he stared up at the ceiling. “What’s all that stuff up there? None of it was there when Peter ran me through how everything works.”
“Some sort of midnight surprise is all I was told when I asked the same question. Hey, what kept you? I was wondering if I was going to be running this show by myself.”
“Sorry about that. I had to get some people to… uh… kidnap my roommate. He didn’t want to come to the party.”
Cole laughed. “What sort of lame brain turns down an invitation to a party?”
Brett shot his friend a warning glare. “Don’t you dare say that about Nick. If it wasn’t for him, I would’ve failed at least two subjects last year and I wouldn’t be here now. He’s quiet and shy, but I owe him a lot. I decided getting him out of the room for a night would be good for him.”
“I’d think that setting him up with a girl for the party would make it better.”
Brett’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “He told me he’s not interested in girls.”
“He’s gay? Okay, there should be some eligible guys around the campus, though I wouldn’t know how to find one.”
Brett laughed as he ran a hand through his green hair. “I asked him once if he’s gay. He just looked me up and down, said I’m not his type, and turned away. I took the hint and I haven’t asked since.”
“Maybe he’s one of those asexuals that I read about the other month — you know, not interested in sex at all.”
“Could be. Anyway, I’ve got some people keeping an eye on him with strict instructions he’s not to leave the party before midnight. He’s not happy with me, but I think it’s for his own good.”
“If you’ve had him kidnapped, what’s he got as a costume?”
Brett laughed. “A set of prison overalls. Steve’s dressed up as a prison guard, just to complete the picture.”
Brett logged into the computer screen in front of him and brought up the control software. “What’s the plan? It looks like everything’s been set up ahead of time and we only need to make sure it all goes to plan, and put in whatever ad-libbing we think necessary,” he said.
“That’s about it. One of us has to be here at all times and both of us need to be ready when Peter’s got special events planned, but otherwise it’s easy street.”
“Ten pm, midnight and two am — is that right?”
“Yeah. No change from what we were told last week.”
As Brett scanned the playlist that was displayed, he frowned. “I thought Melissa was going to pick most of the music.”
“You noticed, huh? She got sick, and Peter had to do it, so over half the stuff is techno — what he likes best.”
“Hey, lots of people like techno — just not all of us. In that case, I’m glad I’m up here.”
* * *
Brett stretched to loosen the muscles in his back. He’d been crouched over the controls while Peter had introduced the first part of the celebration. Brett had had to override the computer when one of the laser-generated ghosts had started to wander off track, but otherwise it had all gone smoothly.
The music had restarted and a semi-random wave of color from the overhead lights was dancing over the crowd. A moody mist was creeping across the floor from fog machines around the edges.
“Well, I think it’s time to go and say hello to a certain young lady,” Cole said as he rose to his feet. “I promised her some dances.”
Brett chuckled. “Okay, say hello to Helen for me, too. What did she pick as her costume?”
Cole chuckled. “With her figure, Helen of Troy, of course.”
Cole had just reached the door when all the lights in the hall went off and the music died. After a moment, a set of faint blue lights illuminated the crowd.
“What the fuck!” Brett said as he scanned the computer screen.
Cole headed back to his seat. “Did the software crash?”
“Not that I can see… wait… something’s happening.”
A new playlist replaced the old one as Brett watched. He recognised the opening chords as he read the name: the title song from The Phantom of the Opera.
“Look at that!” Cole said, pointing out the window.
Brett glanced out and saw a caped figure striding across the dance floor, illuminated by a bright spotlight. He’d just passed a pair of mummies, when a second spotlight turned on and revealed a classic Phantom of the Opera mask on the guy’s face.
“Someone’s decided to make one cool entrance!” Cole said, slowly shaking his head in admiration.
“I wonder who he is and why Peter didn’t tell us,” Brett commented.
“Probably didn’t want to spoil the surprise. You have to admit that everyone’s watching the guy. Twenty bucks says it’s a friend of Peter’s and some girl is about to dragged onto the floor.”
“No bet. You’re probably right.”
As they watched, Brett stiffened when a third spotlight shone on the phantom’s target.
“Hey, that’s a guy!” Cole said.
“That’s not just any guy, that’s my roommate, Nick!”
The phantom held out a hand to Nick, who took it and allowed himself to be lead to the middle of the hall.
Brett and Cole were still watching when the door to the control room flew open and an angry Count Dracula stormed in.
“What the fuck is going on in here? I’m paying you guys to stick to the program, not to make up your own rubbish!”
“Chill, Peter. We didn’t do anything — the system did it all itself,” Cole said.
“Well, fix it! Get rid of that fucking music first, and put something decent on.”
Cole started typing away while Peter glared out of the window.
“Hey, that’s two guys out there. Get those spotlights off them! I’m not having my party ruined by a pair of faggots! Why haven’t you fixed it already?”
Brett frowned at Peter’s comment as he turned to the other console to access the lighting controls. He didn’t appreciate the abusive tone, and especially didn’t like having it directed at his roommate.
“The system isn’t responding. It won’t let me override the music,” Cole said.
“Argh! You can’t be doing it right. Get out of the way and let me do it,” Peter yelled at Cole.
Brett found the same thing as Cole — he was unable to shift the spotlights away from Nick and the phantom. After a moment’s thought, he accessed the controls and tried to change the color of the lights to blue, and was surprised when it worked. His forehead wrinkled as he tried to work out what that meant.
Peter pushed the keyboard away in disgust. “Damn computer!”
“I can alter things, but I can’t remove anything that’s programmed in,” Brett said.
“We’ll have to reboot the system,” Peter said as he reached over and snatched the mouse. Moments later he grabbed the keyboard and started typing. “The fucking thing won’t respond! We’re going to have to power it off.”
Peter got down and started to crawl under the desk. Brett looked out the window and watched his roommate dance. The music switched to a rumba and other couples started dancing. The spotlight on Nick faded as the flashing lights switched back on.
“You know, Peter, I don’t think anyone minds. If we can’t get your stuff going again, why don’t we just let it run as it is?”
Peter’s voice came up from under the control panels. 
“You’ve got be joking if you think I’m going to let some freakin’ fag take over my party. I don’t know how he hacked into the system, but I’m not going to let him get away with it.”
There was a bright spark and Peter started swearing. “The fucking thing’s alive! I can’t turn it off.”
“Why don’t you let us worry about it, Peter?” Brett suggested. “You go off and enjoy yourself.”
Peter slid out from under the desk, blowing on and shaking one hand. “Okay, but you’d better have it all fixed by midnight. I’m going to get security to make sure they catch those guys on the cameras so I can find out who’s ruining my party,” Peter said as he scrambled to his feet. He threw Brett and Cole a warning glare. “Remember, midnight.”
Once the door closed behind Peter, Cole drew a hand theatrically across his forehead. “Phew. I’m glad that’s over. Come on, let’s start trying to work out what’s going on.”
Brett shook his head. “Don’t bother. It’s not causing any problems and everyone’s enjoying themselves. It’s only Peter that’s upset.”
“But what happens at midnight, then?”
“We wait and see. Whoever set this up seems to want Nick to have a good time, and I’m with them. If that means Peter gets pissed off, then that’s a price I’m happy to pay. After his comments about faggots, I don’t care much about what he thinks.”
Cole looked uncertain, but he stopped trying to alter the computer programming. “Okay, I suppose… at least the music selection is a lot better.”
“You go out and see Helen. I’ll look after things here.”
Cole rose to his feet. “If you’re sure…”
Brett grinned. “Go! Have some fun.”
Cole left and headed down the stairs to join the crowd. Brett watched him meet up with his girlfriend, and then returned his attention to Nick and the phantom. While they weren’t being highlighted, Brett noticed that a low light was always shining on the pair, making it easy for him to spot them. He tried to track down how that was being done, but the computer system wouldn’t let him view the controlling script.
It wasn’t long before Brett saw Count Dracula heading towards Nick. Brett frowned while he tried to work out what he could do, as he didn’t think Peter was just going to say hello. He configured a strobe light to flash in Peter’s face, but that delayed Peter for only a few seconds.
Peter tripped over something just before he reached the two guys. A roman gladiator and his catwoman partner fell over the prone figure, and then a mini-pile of bodies formed. A pair of security guards appeared and helped straighten out the mess while the party continued. Brett was surprised to see the guards carrying Peter off to the first-aid room.
“I hope he’s okay, but it looks like that problem’s solved for the moment,” Brett muttered to himself.
After a call to learn that Peter had been kicked in the head and was groggy but otherwise fine, Brett settled back to watch and enjoy the party. Whoever had reprogrammed the computer system had done a great job in keeping everyone entertained.
Cole rejoined him after about thirty minutes and offered to look after things while Brett went and had some fun, but Brett turned him down. He wanted to keep an eye on his roommate and the control room was the best place for doing that.
Just before midnight, everything changed again. As a song ended, all the lights dimmed and the playlist disappeared from the computer screen.
“What’s going on now?” Cole asked.
“It doesn’t look like a crash, so maybe the hacked program has ended. Why don’t you check if you can bring up the original again,” Brett suggested.
Cole typed for a few seconds. “Nope, I’m still blocked out.”
A new playlist appeared and music started playing. A swirl of soft pink and blue lights played across the hall while a gentle white light illuminated Nick and the phantom.
“What’s that playing? How can anyone dance to it?” Brett asked.
“It says it’s the love theme from Romeo and Juliet. It’s not often you hear three-four time, anymore,” Cole said.
Brett looked out. “Nick and that guy are waltzing. Weird!”
Cole glanced over the dance floor and grinned. “They aren’t the only ones, but they’re one of the better couples. Whoever picked the music has to be a romantic — why else would they pick that particular piece?”
The two guys were still watching when a countdown clock appeared on the display. Brett glanced at his watch.
“It’s counting down to midnight,” he said.
“I wonder if Peter’s surprise is still going to happen. According to the playlist, the music will finish about fifteen seconds before midnight. Are you ready, Brett?”
“Ready, but I have no idea what’s going to happen.”
The music ended as the spotlight on Nick and the phantom started to intensify. The two guys were in a passionate embrace.
“… eleven… ten… nine…” Cole muttered.
The light became dazzlingly bright.
“… eight… seven…”
A bright flash illuminated the entire hall. Brett flung an arm across his eyes and then everything went black. When he lowered his arm, he could see only the emergency lights and the glow from the computer screen.
“… six… five…”
A red glow appeared at the end of the hall. It was hard for Brett to make out through the spots before his eyes from the previous flash, but it appeared that a disembodied head about the size of a small bus was floating in the air. A maniacal chuckle echoed through the hall.
“… four… three…”
“It’s time to go…” a deep, inhuman voice rumbled.
“… two…”
“Your soul is mine!” The bass rumble sent a shiver through Brett.
“… one…”
Everything went black.
“… zero!”
Screams rang out across the darkened hall.
* * *
Brett sat on the edge of his bed, staring across at the comatose figure of his roommate. When Nick rolled over and opened his eyes, Brett smiled at him.
“Hi, Nick. How are you feeling?”
“Wh… what happened?”
“You and your friend danced nonstop for almost two hours, and then when midnight came, you collapsed and your friend disappeared. I brought you home. You should’ve been drinking, Nick. The nurse said you were dehydrated.”
Nick struggled to an upright position. Brett poured a glass of water and passed it over. While Nick sipped, Brett kept on talking.
“You probably don’t remember it, but midnight was the highlight of the party. When the lights went off, all these boxes on the ceiling opened, and hordes of fake spiders on bungee cords dropped down onto the crowd. I think the screams lifted the roof by at least a foot.” Brett chuckled at the memory. “I heard tons of people telling Peter it was the best Halloween party they’d ever been to.”
Nick shook his head. “Nah, I can’t remember.”
Brett waited a moment. “Do you remember anything?”
A smile appeared as Nick’s eyes lost focus. “Dancing a dream.”
“You know you outed yourself to everyone there,” Brett said as gently as he could.
Nick shrugged. “No big deal. It’s not like I intend to go out dating.”
“Didn’t you tell me when we first started rooming together that you’re single?”
“I am.”
Brett’s forehead wrinkled. “Then who was that guy you were dancing with last night?”
“My boyfriend.” Nick sighed and looked out the window.
“But if you’ve got a boyfriend, that means you’re not single.”
“It’s kinda hard to explain. We only see each other five times a year: my birthday, his birthday, Christmas, the anniversary of our first date, and Halloween.”
“Okay… I still don’t think you can have a boyfriend and call yourself single, but I’ll let that pass. I can understand those first four dates, but what’s so special about Halloween that it’s on the list?”
Nick turned back to Brett. A trail of tears ran down his cheeks to the edges of his sad smile.
“Because that’s when he died.”
Brett felt faint. “Died?” he whispered.
“He died at the stroke of midnight on Halloween, four years ago. He’s been coming back to visit me ever since. That’s why I didn’t want to go to the party — I thought he’d be coming here. I’m glad, though, because that was the best time I’ve had with him since the accident. Thanks, Brett.”
Nick nodded at Brett, lay back down on his bed and then rolled over.
Brett stood up and waited for a few seconds before he staggered out of the room. His legs didn’t seem to want to support him.
He was sitting in the coffee shop when his phone rang.
“Brett, that phantom guy, whoever he is, is an absolute genius!”
“Hi, Cole. What do you mean?”
“I’ve just run into Peter. He said the guy managed to hack into the security videos and erase his image off every single one! All they show is your roommate dancing by himself!”
“Somehow, Cole, that doesn’t surprise me.”

As I sat in my study, I glanced down at the clock on my desk. Only thirty minutes to the time I’d been dreading.
I should’ve expected that this time would come and planned a response, but somehow I’d managed to ignore for a year the possible consequences of my youngest son’s announcement. Had I just been naïve, or had I been purposely avoiding the issue?
It took me months to understand what Will had meant when he told me that he’s gay. I had hidden from the topic of sexual orientation for a long time before I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the twentieth century. I finally accepted that Will isn’t ever going to bring a girlfriend home to meet his parents, and it’s obvious to me now that I should have taken it that one step further, but I didn’t. Maybe everyone else thought I had and didn’t mention it. Now I was about to be dragged into the twenty-first century when I’d only just got used to the twentieth.
The evening before, at our weekly family dinner with Scott, Ivy and their partners visiting, Will dropped his bombshell. My wife and the rest of the family seemed to take it in their stride, but I just shrank back inside the shell that I had built when I had first learnt that my son is gay. Stupidly, even childishly, I had hoped the problem would just go away. It didn’t. In half an hour it was going to happen.
What would I do, what should I say, when Will brought his boyfriend home to meet his parents?
With Scott it had been easy. I understand what it means to bring a girlfriend home, so I knew what I had to look for before I gave him a smile of encouragement, or a frown of disapproval. It wasn’t just appearance, though that was part of it. It was watching for the look of pride on Scott’s face, and the smile of joy on his girl’s. It was making sure that it wasn’t simply lust — that there was a stronger bond than that. I expected him to be having sex and had drilled into him the consequences of not using protection to prevent a pregnancy. Sex is fine, but if that is all there is to the relationship, it’s doomed before it starts. There has to be something outside of the bedroom, or the couple are just two individuals selfishly relieving themselves of tension. Love goes a lot further than sex. It starts when you care more for your partner than for yourself.
Even with Ivy, I knew what to watch out for. Did her boyfriend show her the tender care that she deserved? Was he taking her for granted, or did he show that he was prepared to listen and try to understand her needs? Knowing the look of the predatory male from that time of my own life, I guarded my daughter as best I could, without trying to smother her. Educating her on the danger signs was hard, as she has a stubborn streak as big as mine. To her credit, she, more than anyone else, made me face up to the truth about Will. I’m not sure, but I think she also did some re-educating of her current boyfriend. Leo has always struck me as the strong, masculine type who refuses to suffer any nonsense from anyone. If it weren’t for the way he showed how much he wanted to protect my little angel, I would have taken him as a sexual predator who was just after another notch on his gun. He was cool towards Will at first, but under Ivy’s stern eye he quickly warmed to him and would even take him to the occasional football game.
Scott’s and Ivy’s situations were not the same as Will’s. I was avoiding the current issue, again, by thinking of Scott and Ivy. I just didn’t know how to react!
What does a forty-six-year-old father of three say when he’s introduced to the boyfriend of his seventeen-year-old son? What should he look for, and what questions should he ask?
The evening before, Will had been so effervescent about this boy of his. I know he had been through a period of depression when he thought he’d never find a boyfriend, but now he’s as high as a kite. It’s obvious he’s in love. It’s also clear that while he’s that ecstatic, he won’t be able to see any flaws in his beau. That’s my job, but I don’t know how to do it!
Despite my resistance, I’ve learnt a lot over the last few months on how hard it can be for a gay young man to find a partner. Unless the other guy is openly gay as well, Will runs the risk of abuse, or even assault, each time he tries to approach someone. One night, while my wife was out visiting a friend, Ivy had ordered me to go see my youngest son. Every bit of her demeanour showed me how serious she was. She was the spitting image of her mother as she conveyed the depth of her concern with just a look. There is little physical similarity between them, but that night Ivy showed me how much her mother has moulded her personality.
I went into Will’s room to find him lying face down on his bed, sobbing helplessly into his pillow. As I sat down on the side of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, a shudder ran the length of his body.
“Why can’t I find someone to love?” His cry was muffled by the pillow but still filled with anguish.
Over the next hour, I slowly learnt about the emotional pain that he had endured that day. Over the previous few days, he had been opening up to one of the other boys at school. Just as he was about to ask the boy out, he found out that the target of his affections had fallen in love with one of the cheerleaders. He had been sure the boy was gay, but he had been sadly mistaken. At least he was spared the humiliation of finding out after telling the boy how he felt.
I made the mistake of using the tired old platitude of there being plenty of other fish in the sea, causing him to roll over and let loose a tidal wave of anger, fuelled by frustration and pain. He left me in no doubt as to how unfair that saying was to him. Unless I could tell him how he could find those “fish” amongst all the straight guys out in the ocean, I had better learn to keep my big trap shut and out of his business.
That incident really made me start to think about what life would be like for my little boy.
How can he find someone to spend his life with when he can’t tell who is gay and who is straight? Will comes over as completely straight. That’s one of the reasons that I was thrown so completely when he came out to us. I was in denial for so long because of that, that I hadn’t given him as much support as he needed. If I had been thinking, I wouldn’t have said what I said that night. But thinking of what life is like for my gay son is something I’m still not good at.
Seeing him lying devastated on his bed, and then having him attack me with such venom for being blasé about finding someone else, I just subconsciously concluded that he would remain single.
Even when he started to brighten up and show spontaneous bursts of joy in recent weeks, it never occurred to me what the real reason was.
Until yesterday, when he made it all so clear.
As I sat there slowly swinging the swivel chair from side to side, my eyes remained fixed on a picture at the side of the desk. A picture of happy times.
It had been taken a couple of months before Will told us he’s gay. He’s never confirmed it, but I believe the happiness that the picture exudes is part of the reason he came out to us when he did. In it, Will and his best friend Eric are standing, laughing, arms across each other’s shoulders. It was taken just after they had won a race at the local carnival while our families were on holidays together.
Eric and Will had been inseparable for years. As much because of them as for any other reason, our families always shared our holidays. To the two boys, they had two families and two houses, which they used interchangeably.
One month later, Eric and his family were gone. His mother had taken a promotion at work that required her to move to the west. The opportunity was too good to pass up. It may have been a mistake, but we didn’t tell the boys until after the end of the holiday. The fights that followed were memorable. Neither set of parents could blame the boys for their reactions, but they had to accept that life did not revolve around their wishes. We tried to find a compromise that would allow them to stay together — I even went to the extent of exploring the option of transferring out west myself — but we failed.
Four weeks later, after moping around like a lost soul, Will announced to the family that he’s gay. 
We thought we had broken up two best friends, and we’d all felt pain at doing it. Now, as I stare at that photo, I’m wondering if we did more than that. Did we break up a couple? Did we crush my son’s first love?
Ever since he came out, Will has refused to discuss his relationship with Eric. All he will say is that we knew what we were doing and we went and did it anyway. We have spoken a few times to Eric’s parents since they’ve settled into their new home, but we have not told them that Will’s gay. Initially, I wouldn’t speak of it because I was ashamed, and later, when I saw the pain my son was experiencing in his efforts to try to find love, I withheld the information as something that was his to tell at his own time and place. I couldn’t see how telling them would help, and I could easily see how much more pain it could cause.
Perhaps that relationship could be my guide on how to judge if this new boy was right for Will?
As I pondered the problem, I realised that all I knew for sure was that Eric and Will had been best friends. That was a good start for any long-term relationship, but more was needed. If Will was a girl, I would also be looking at how attentive his boyfriend was to him. If Will was bringing a girlfriend home, I would be looking for how much they spoke to each other without words.
But Will isn’t a girl and he wouldn’t be bringing a girlfriend home in less than thirty minutes. The standards I use for his brother and sister just don’t apply to him. What’s acceptable behaviour for a gay couple? How was I going to I judge if what they are doing is fair and reasonable, or if their relationship isn’t one that has a strong enough base to build a long-term partnership on?
While he generally showed good taste, for one of Scott’s previous girlfriends I had to express my disapproval. She showed no interest in Scott as a person; only as a body. Scott was still young enough at that stage to believe that that would suffice; that he could build a relationship based on physical attraction. He wouldn’t listen to reason, and I knew that at his age I probably wouldn’t have paid any attention either. All my wife and I could do was to gently steer him into making the decision that needed to be made.
But the way a girl shows these things is different to the way a guy does. Does a gay guy show things in a different way again? Would I be able to pick up on whether Will’s boyfriend is interested in Will as a person, or just as a sex buddy?
As I considered how little I knew and how much less I understood, I slumped further and further into my chair. I was going to be failure as a parent, and if things went badly, I would have to take some of the blame as my wife and I picked up the remains of a shattered boy. Despite the length of time it took me to accept my gay son, or maybe because of it, the last thing I wanted was for him to give away his heart and then receive it back in pieces.
“They’ll be here soon. Don’t you think you should wait in the living room for them?”
I jumped as my wife’s calm voice interrupted my musing. As I spun the chair around to face her, some of my agitation must have been obvious as a worried look appeared on her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.
“I don’t know what to say! How do I know if this boy is right for our son?” I pleaded, looking up at her as she stood in the doorway.
Entering the room, she walked over to me and gently turned the chair back to face the desk. Standing behind me, she started to massage my neck and shoulders.
“What is the one thing we’ve always said we want for our children?” she asked me gently.
Slowly relaxing under her tender ministrations, I answered as we had always agreed, “For them to be happy.”
“Then that’s what to look for. Will he make our son happy? And don’t forget that he’s someone else’s son, too. Can Will make him happy? These are the only things that matter,” she stated calmly.
With a clarity that shone through the confusion of my mind, I realised she was right. Everything I look for in a partner for each of my other children is with the goal of making sure that they will be happy together — that they can have a good life as a couple. I haven’t realised that before as as I have been focused on the steps to that goal, rather than the goal itself. I don’t know the steps for Will as a gay son, but I do know the goal.
Feeling better, I twisted my head to smile up at my better half. I reminded myself, yet again, that I had to stop bottling up my worries. While I don’t like bothering her, we are a partnership and have to deal with things like this together, not apart. If I had spoken to her sooner, I wouldn’t have had a day ruined from worry.
Rising to my feet, I put arms around her and pulled her into a gentle hug. Finishing with a light but slow peck on the lips, I walked with her into the living room.
When the doorbell finally rang, I opened it with a light heart. Standing there was a smartly dressed young man with my anxious son hovering behind him.
“Hello, Mr. Stephenson. I’m Aaron,” he said nervously, as he discretely wiped a sweaty palm on his pants before he extended it to me.
As I shook his hand, I smiled. He was squeezing a bit too hard, but from my experience with Ivy’s boyfriends, I knew that was just nerves.
“Welcome, Aaron. I’m happy to finally meet the boy who’s stolen my son’s heart.”