Last night was a total freakin’ disaster. I had worked up the courage to bring Aaron over to meet my family. My first boyfriend! I was pure scared. I had been going nuts trying to think of just the right way to announce it, and then… Bam!… My mouth just opened and out flew all the wrong words. You should have seen the look on my dad’s face. Well, no, actually, you’d have been happier somewhere north of China about then.
We were sitting at the dinner table devouring my mom’s great country fried steak and mashed potatoes. I was pushing a single green pea around my plate, waiting for a hole in the conversation.
“There’s a sale at the Mid City Centre,” my sister Ivy was telling Mom, or actually hinting for money. Mom’s wise to her, but will still slip her like $40. Moms are so easy.
My brother Scott, an obsessed motorcycle fan, was telling Dad how Mick Doohan was coming along after his accident. “He flew off that bike and frammed into the wall. Lucky it was just broken bones.”
“I’m bringing my boyfriend over tomorrow night,” I blurted out, my eyes glued to my dad’s face. I meant to say it quietly, unobtrusively, but instead, it just jumped on the table and did a tap dance.
Ivy’s boyfriend, Leo, jerked as if someone had kicked him… hard… under the table, while Ivy smiled brightly. Mom took a deep breath, and smiled at me to tell me it was okay. Scott tried to stare a hole through his plate. But, all I could see was my dad. He was looking at me with the saddest expression in his eyes. Shit!
You gotta know my dad. He never says what he’s thinking. He over thinks and beats the ‘dead horse’, ’til you want to scream. I mean, I told them I was gay a while back after my friend Eric left and I had no one to talk to. I was losing my mind and needed them to know. But my dad? He never even asks me about it. He acts like I never said it; like if he doesn’t say anything, it’ll go away. I guess he thinks it’s like the time I wanted a surfboard really bad. In time, I’ll forget I said it. Sorry, Dad.
See, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’ve known I’m gay since I was maybe 11. I wasn’t sure what it meant for me and I watched my dad maneuver my sister and brother, trying to weed out the bad ‘dates’. I felt kinda sorry for him ’cause everybody knows that the more a parent tells you ‘No’, the more you gotta have whatever.
Ivy brought home some real doozies, the guy with the purple hair and nose piercings; the bloke that fell in love with my mom. This current one, Leo, isn’t too bad. He even took me to a few games. Maybe he’ll be a keeper.
Scott is still smelling the flowers. He brings girls home, knowing we all know he’s got prolly one agenda. Time will settle him down, I guess. Dad tries to talk to him about the difference between hos and ladies. My thought, right now, my brother Scott’s not looking for a lady. I could be wrong.
See, the thing is, Dad and Mom raised us really good. We have good manners, we open doors for old people, we don’t make fun of anyone less fortunate (my dad’s very words) and all the other good things. He’s gotta start trusting that we have enough brains to make the right decisions.
I guess the problem is, my dad’s not ever had to concentrate on me before. I was happy that Ivy and Scott took up all his ‘father knows best’ time. I could then just be me, a gay kid who was in silent running mode. He would ask if I had a girl picked out and I’d laugh and say, “When I find one as cool as Mom.” That should have blown it right there, but my dad loves my mom and he thought it was cute. I mean, what horny 14-year-old guy, str8 or gay, is looking for someone like his mom?
But my dad, you should have seen the look on his face when I said that at the table. If I’d said I ate baby bunnies for lunch, he couldn’t have looked more sucker punched. Did he really think that I was any different from Ivy, from Scott? Why is it okay for them to date and have bfs and gfs, but not me?
It’s ’cause he’s not alright with me being gay. I don’t even know what he really thinks about it. He isn’t homophobic, at least not where I’ve heard him, but that doesn’t mean he likes it either.
The only time we talked about it at all was the night I was in my room, sobbing my guts out over this guy at school who really came across as someone like me, but just as I was gonna ask him if he wanted a coke or something, he launched into his crush on Sonja Kranvik, the head cheerleader. I stood mutely, listening to what he wanted to do to her body, my heart lying on the dirty gym floor.
My sweet old dad, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, all uncomfortable and wishing he was anywhere else, tried to tell me about all the fish in the sea. I know it was gross, but I just wailed on him. How was I supposed to find ‘my fish’ when they were all disguised as str8 fish? Think about that, Dad.
I know he doesn’t want to even talk about how I could get beat up or trashed really bad if I try to hook the wrong fish. It really pissed me off that he thought it was easy. As long as he thinks like the regular big mouth bass, he won’t ever see that I’m a salmon and swimming upstream ain’t easy. He needs to just back off and stay the hell out of my business… and stop with the fish stuff.
My mom and I talked. It’s true you know, moms kinda always know. She didn’t ask the hard stuff, didn’t bring up the sex probs. She did the mom thing with how much they love me and, it would be a tough lifestyle but they would always be with me. That’s my mom. It made me feel good but it didn’t help me with Dad.
I told my parents I was gay not long after my best friend Eric moved away. Life had been easier with Eric in it. I jonesed for him totally but I never told him. He said he had a thing for Mary Alice Hayes and who was I to question? We talked about everything. He knew I was gay and it didn’t matter. He still hugged me and let me whine all over him.
When his mom got that new job, I got so angry at the grownup world. Didn’t it see what it was doing to teenagers when it shuffled the parents around willy-nilly? Eric and I both begged and pleaded but what good did that do? None. My dad said something bogus like ‘life didn’t revolve around my wishes’. Well, duh! Life sat a plate of chocolate chip cookies right in front of me and then told me I couldn’t eat them.
I knew that I was being childish and dumb, but I was really pissed at them. Pissed at Eric’s parents for leaving, at Eric for going, and at my dad for letting it all happen. I got back the only way I knew how… I knew my dad was dying to know if Eric and I… so, I just let him stew over it. Maybe we were, Dad. Worry on.
** 
I know you don’t really understand me, but I wish you’d sit down and ask me all the things you fret about, Dad. I’d answer you. I know you don’t want to think about what I’d do with another boy but it prolly would be better for you to think it out and know, instead of fretting and imagining the worst. And anyway, sex isn’t supposed to be thought of as the worst, is it?
One thing, Dad, I’m just 17. I’m not gonna marry somebody anytime soon. Actually, I’m prolly never gonna marry anyone but I would like to find someone to love, just like everybody else. And to be honest with you, I really just want someone to kiss and stuff right now, just like any other kid my age.
You know how you worry about Scott with all his girls and you fret about how the guys treat Ivy? It’s the same with me. What is it Ivy always says? “You gotta kiss a few frogs before you meet your prince”. Well, hahaha! That applies to me too. I need to go through a few frogs, I guess. Not that Aaron is a frog. But he’s prolly not THE frog. Understand?
Before Aaron comes tonight, I wish I could tell you that all I want you to do is understand that I like holding his hand, making him laugh and the feeling that I belong in this world, that someone I like, likes me back.
You’re a guy, Dad. You can tell when Ivy’s new boyfriend is only out for one thing; likewise, you can pop Scott on the head when his latest is not exactly someone he should bring home to Mom. I can promise you that I’d never bring home someone I didn’t think you could respect. It’s harder for me than for either of them. You see that, right? Maybe I won’t see it clearly but I’m not stupid either. I want to feel the same things everyone else feels. Give me enough space to find myself.
Now, about Aaron. Would you rather I bring him here to play video games or meet him on the street corner? I could have said he was just a friend but I’m kinda proud that he likes me and I just wanted you to meet him.
I know how you are. You’re sitting in that study right now all worried about this. Stop worrying, Dad. Please, just like be nice.
**
Walking from Aaron’s house to mine tonight was the longest walk of my life. It wasn’t a big deal to bring a friend home, but it was a big deal to bring my first boyfriend home. I wish I could talk to my dad. I wish he could really see that I’m still me. He loved me from the moment I was born, maybe even before, and I’m still just me. I wouldn’t have asked for this, but it’s what I am. I want him to be proud of me. I don’t think he is.
I was too nervous to just open the door and burst in like I usually do. Aaron turned to me in the dark right before we stepped into the porch light. He smiled with that crooked little smile I like and said softly, “It’ll be okay, Willie. I’ll try my hardest to make them like me.”
I smiled back, wishing he didn’t have to try at all, just be Aaron. He was cute and smart and funny and sweet, oh and, did I mention, hot as heck?
He rang the doorbell and my dad opened the door. I stood right behind him, my fingers just touching his back.
I heard him say, “Hello, Mr. Stephenson. I’m Aaron.” I almost giggled, I was so nervous. He stuck his hand out to my dad and they shook. I bit my lip to keep the stupid nervous laughter inside me.
My dad said the oddest thing. “Welcome, Aaron. I’m happy to finally meet the boy who’s stolen my son’s heart.”
It was a bit too much and I really hadn’t given my heart away yet, but it was cool that my dad was trying. As we walked into my house, I hoped that maybe my dad would start to talk to me now. Maybe if we could just try, we’d make it. I may not be the son he dreamed of, but I’m the son he has. I hope he can just love me and learn how to watch my back through all the fish and frogs I have to meet before I finally meet a prince.

A light dusting of snow had just begun to coat the streets and houses that made up the quaint and peaceful village of Middleburg. As the cold frosty evening began to turn into night, most of the shops lining the town’s main street were now dark and shuttered. Since it was Christmas Eve, many of the shopkeepers had closed their stores earlier in the afternoon so they could go home and begin celebrating Christmas with their families.
On Center Street there was only one store with its lights still on. Inside Miller’s House of Music, Philip Miller was preparing to close. He had already turned off the lights in the back of the store, locked the cases that held the small instruments and accessories, and just punched the worn red button on the cash register that caused the drawer to spring open. As he prepared to begin counting the money he was suddenly interrupted by a heavy rapping on his shop door.
At first Philip didn’t even look up as he took out the money and began to count it. But the rapping persisted and got louder.
Shaking his head, he stopped and slowly made his way to the door. As he pulled up the shade he could see Jack Addams standing in front of his shop. The tall man was leaning down looking into Philip Miller’s face as he peered through the glass of the locked door.
“Mr. Miller,” Jack Adams called to Philip through the door, “I know you’re closed, but I was wondering if you could open up. I just got off work. I had to stay at the plant, there was a problem on the line and we all had to work overtime to get a big order out before we could close for Christmas. This is my last chance to get Jason’s Christmas present. Could you please help me?”
Jason Addams was Jack’s thirteen-year-old son and the young boy had just started to take an interest in music. Philip had noticed him coming into his shop almost every day after school for the past three weeks to stare at the guitar display in the front of the store.
“Please Mr. Miller,” Jack was now almost pleading. “I hate to disappoint my boy on Christmas by not giving him the one thing he really wants.”
Addams’ voice seemed to stir Philip out of his daze.
Looking through the door at the man, who had bent down to get closer to his level, Philip frowned, reached out his hand and turned the knob that snapped open the latch.
“OK Jack, come in, but I’m trying to get home, so if you know what your boy wants then pick it out and make it quick,” Philip said in such a gruff tone of voice that even he was surprised at how harsh it had sounded.
“I won’t be long Mr. Miller,” Jack said with a smile on his face. “My boy’s shown me so many pictures of what he wants that I know it by heart. Here it is,” he said as he put his hands on a red and chrome electric guitar.
Philip Miller quickly boxed the instrument, rang the register and hustled his last-minute customer out the door.
“Thanks a million, Mr. Miller,” Jack said as he walked through the door. Standing once more in the snowy night air, he turned back to look at Philip framed in the doorway of his shop, then his smile brightened and he added, “and Merry Christmas to you.”
Philip looked away from the smiling man, abruptly closed the door in his face, turned the lock, and quickly pulled down the shade. After he finished counting the register money and put it in the safe, he turned off the last of the lights and walked away from his dark and silent shop.
Because Philip’s house was only a few streets from his store, he rarely drove. Tonight he was even happier that he lived so close to his shop as he quietly walked home through the deepening show that crunched under his feet. Halfway across Market Street Philip Miller paused and looked up at the church directly in front of him. A warm glow of light streamed from its stained glass windows and he could hear the choir warming up for their annual Christmas Eve cantata. But he forced the joyous sound out of his head and rushed by. In years past Philip Miller would have closed his shop much earlier than he had this night in order to get to the church and its choir. In fact, he would have been standing in front of the choir, leading it as director.
Walking even faster through the snowy town, Philip climbed his way up the hill where he lived, passing rows of houses decorated with brightly colored holiday lights and Christmas trees cheerfully displayed in each and every window.
Only one house on the street was dark and cold. Not one light could be seen decorating the trees and bushes in its front yard. No Christmas tree stood in its window and its front door held no gaily decorated wreath. Quickly making his way past the other houses, Philip Miller pushed through his front gate, and trudged up the walk.
Reaching his porch, he unlocked the front door and prepared to enter his darkened house when suddenly he heard a swift WHOOSH, followed by a loud THUD and finally a cry of “OUCH!”
Philip spun around and stared in the direction he had just come from. Through the veil of snow that was now falling even faster and heavier, he could see a young boy lying in the street. The child appeared to have been riding a snowboard down the steep snowy sidewalk and had fallen. Rushing down the walk and out into the street, Philip got to the boy just as he was beginning to stand up.
“Are you hurt?” Philip asked with concern in his voice.
“No, I’m fine; I think I hit a rock in front of your house. It was hidden by the snow.”
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Philip frowned at the boy. “You look like you hit your head.”
And as he spoke Philip touched his gloved hand to the left side of the boy’s head where a lump was quickly forming.
“Ouch!” the boy jumped back at Philip’s touch. Then he wobbled and began to fall to the ground as he started to lose consciousness.
Philip caught the boy, picked him up in his arms and carried him into his darkened house.
After laying the boy on the couch in his living room, and quickly turning on a few lights he scurried into the kitchen and grabbed the phone hanging on the wall. Worried, Philip was just about to call 911 when he heard a stirring coming from the living room.
Putting the phone back on it’s hook, Philip made his way back into the living room where he saw the boy now sitting up, rubbing the side of his head.
“What’s wrong?” Philip asked with great concern.
“I guess I fell harder then I thought,” he said, “I really did see stars.”
“You’re just lucky you didn’t fracture your skull or break your neck, young man,” Philip added as he continued to frown at the boy whose snow-covered boots were dripping water onto the Oriental rug on the floor of his living room.
“I’m OK… eh, Mr. Miller.”
“How do you know me?” Philip said with a suspicious tone in his voice.
“Well, don’t you own Millers Music Store in town? I thought that’s who you were?”
“Yes, I own the store,” Philip said in a short staccato answer. “But what are you doing out on a night like this? You should be home.”
“I wanted to try out the snowboard. I just got it. My friend gave it to me for Christmas. He’s a great boarder and after watching him for so long I decided to try it for myself.”
Philip looked out his door at the scuffed blue snowboard lying on the porch. Something about it looked familiar, but he dismissed the thought—he was in no mood to entertain delinquent children on a night like this.
“Well, didn’t anyone ever tell you that you just don’t strap it on and take off like a fool?”  Philip said as the furrows in his forehead got even deeper. “You need to practice balancing, and you don’t take your first run down the steepest hill in town.”
“Sorry, I guess I didn’t think about that,” the boy said as he looked sheepishly at Philip. “I know my friend can ride like the wind. He always made it look simple, but I can see that’s not as easy as it looks.”
“I daresay it’s not.” Philip sighed.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Philip asked as he once more noticed the lump on the boy’s head. “I still have a notion to call 911.”
“No Mr. Miller, really I’m fine, I just need a minute or two to rest.”
“Would you like some hot tea or cocoa to warm you up?”
“Oh, hot cocoa would be so nice, thank you.”
“Very well, but then I want you to promise me you’ll go right home. Little boys should not be out alone on nights like this.”
“OK Mr. Miller, I’ll leave after my hot chocolate, I promise.” the boy said.
Philip made his way to the kitchen. After putting the kettle on the stove, he took down two mugs from the cupboard. Then he walked over to the pantry and got a tea bag for himself and some hot cocoa mix for the boy. It had been a while since he’d made hot cocoa for a young boy he thought to himself… not since… but then Philip made a sour face and pushed the notion aside.
From the kitchen he shouted, “What’s your name?”
“Hosanna,” the boy responded.
“What?” Philip shouted again. “It sounded like you said Hosanna?”
“That’s because that’s what I did say. My name’s Hosanna.”
“Um…” Philip thought, “that’s a strange name.”
As if the boy were reading Philip’s mind his voice echoed in from the living room.
“Well, that’s what they named me.”
Philip didn’t answer. Instead, he tore open the pack of hot cocoa mix and emptied it into the mug. Then he placed the tea bag in the second mug, went to the stove, and fetched the kettle just as it was beginning to whistle.
After the drinks had been prepared, Philip took them into the living room. He wrinkled his brow as he saw that the wet puddle from the boy’s boots had grown even larger on the rug.
After handing the mug of hot cocoa to Hosanna, he sat in the easy chair opposite the couch and studied the boy as he drank his cocoa.
He looked to be about 12 years old. His ski cap had been rolled up and sat perched on his head showing a shock of blond hair streaming out of it. As he cupped the mug and drank the hot cocoa, he seemed to be enjoying every sip.
You know, young man… Hosanna… you said?”
The boy nodded.
“Hosanna, you really should be home, after all it’s Christmas Eve.”
“I know,” Hosanna said and looked deep into his now half empty mug. “I… well… I guess I ran away.”
“RAN AWAY?” Philip said with a gasp.
Not only was he dealing with a child who may have injured himself, but a runaway as well!
“Young man, I really think that I should call the police,” Philip said.
“NO, PLEASE Mr. Miller,” Hosanna pleaded. “I promise when I’m done I’ll go. I’ll go back. I only ran away because I was scared.”
Now a part of Philip that had long been dormant, or at least a part he had forced to be dormant, suddenly emerged and his fatherly instincts rose to the surface.
“Scared?” Philip startled. “Hosanna, did someone hurt you? Did someone do something bad to you?”
“No, Mr. Miller, its nothing like that. There’s something I was supposed to do, but I got scared and thought if I left I wouldn’t have to do it.”
The conversation was getting more puzzling by the minute. By now Philip’s tea had gone tepid and he noticed Hosanna had finished his mug of hot cocoa. Standing, he went over to the boy, took his mug from him, and walked back into the kitchen.
Pouring his now cold tea down the kitchen drain and setting Hosanna’s empty mug on the counter, he looked out the window.
In the alley behind his house he could see the snow falling furiously. The familiar shapes of his neighborhood were now slowly disappearing under a deep blanket of white silvery snow.
Suddenly finding himself concerned about someone had reawakened feelings that he thought he had locked away forever.
It had been ten months since Timothy had died. His little boy, his treasure, the only thing he had left from his dear wife who had been gone these past seven years. And it had only taken six months, six very short and sad months from the time the doctor in the clinic had told Philip that his son had an inoperable brain tumor growing with a wicked and terrible vengeance inside of him.
First Loretta, then Timothy; the God who had done this to him wasn’t a God at all. In fact, no real God would have allowed this to happen; to take and then take again, leaving him with nothing but a dark and empty house and sad memories.
Suddenly he returned to his senses. Walking over to the phone he once again lifted it up and prepared to press the buttons that would summon the police, when without warning the sound of a piano drifted through the air.
Philip released the receiver of the phone from his hand and it quickly dropped to the ground and bounced on the floor. Propelled like a wild beast, he tore through the dining room, across the living room and into the music room where he saw Hosanna sitting in front of the keyboard softly playing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at the boy. “What are you, some kind of little thief going through my house, making a mess and touching things you have NO BUSINESS touching?”
At the very beginning of Philip’s tirade Hosanna’s eyes opened like saucers. He moved to the opposite side of the piano bench and almost fell off it. Terror spread across his face.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just… I’m sorry… Hosanna kept repeating over and over.
Staring down at the cowering little boy, Philip suddenly stopped. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror on the opposite wall and didn’t recognize the man glowering back at him.
“What kind of a monster…” he thought, then he dropped to the opposite side of the piano bench slumped down, laid his head in his hands and began to sob.
For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the sobs and gasps for breath that came from Philip Miller as he sat in the music room of his house and cried.
In fact, it was the first time he had even entered this room since Timothy’s funeral.
Philip had been in love with music since he was a small child. After he and Loretta met in college, he confided to her that his secret dream in life was to own a small music store and teach music lessons to the children in his old home town of Middleburg.
With her encouragement, they moved back to the town after they graduated and Philip opened his store. At first it was a struggle, but Loretta took a job as a music teacher in the local elementary school and they managed to live off her income. Every time he would get discouraged, she wouldn’t let him quit. Eventually his business became successful. His knowledge of music and instruments won him respect from not only the local musicians in his area, but even the professional musicians from Jackson City who played in the symphony orchestra.
Soon the word spread that Philip Miller was a fair and honest businessman who went out of his way to serve his customers. Even his teaching was prized as the people sent their sons and daughters to him for music lessons. Philip’s kind and gentle ways made him an excellent teacher.
After his son Timothy was born, his life was complete. As Timothy grew, he seemed to be a natural at music. Like his mother, the little boy could sing like an angel and his strong clear voice often could be heard throughout the church where Philip was the choir director.
But it seemed that Philip’s happiness had been just a cruel joke played on him by an equally cruel God. Five years after Timothy was born, Loretta had been killed in a car accident. Devastated as he was by the death of his beloved wife, he took consolation from the fact that she would live on in their son, whose looks and gentle ways reminded Philip so much of her.
Then Timothy had been taken and the only other thing he had ever loved and cared for was gone.
Music had been a central part of his entire life, but when Timothy died it seemed as if that part of him had died along with his son.
The cruelty of it all was that he still owned the music shop. It pained him every day to have to listen to customers, beating on drums, playing keyboards, strumming guitars and blowing on horns. He had stopped taking students and cancelled the lessons of the ones he already had, until one by one they went to other teachers or just stopped taking lessons altogether.
He had closed his beloved music room at home and never ventured inside it. His vast collection of records, tapes and CDs sat gathering dust along with the beautiful baby grand piano he had always meticulously kept tuned. He had even removed the cheery tinkling bell that rang every time a customer entered or left his shop. The sound of any type of music sickened him. And once spring came, he would begin to make plans to sell the store and move far away from the memories that he had created in Middleburg. 
Now he sat sobbing on the piano bench in front of the baby grand piano in his cold and dark music room.
After his sobs had ceased, only the quiet of the room and the ticking of the clock in the hall remained.
Hosanna quietly slid off the bench and began to make his way out of the room.
Philip, hearing the boy shuffle across the floor, looked up at him.
“Stop,” he said in a dry and rasping voice. “Please.”
Hosanna stopped and turned around to face the man who earlier had screamed at him. His eyes were still wide with fear.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Miller. Really I am. I’ll go now.”
“Wait,” Philip drew himself up on the bench.
“No, I’m the one who’s really sorry, Hosanna. I shouldn’t have done that… it’s just… well… it’s because…” and Philip once again slumped over.
“I know Mr. Miller, everyone knows you’re sad,” the little boy said.
“Yes I am sad, Hosanna, but sad or not, I shouldn’t have frightened you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that when I heard you playing… I…”
“I’m really sorry Mr. Miller. I should have asked,” Hosanna said as he slowly approached Philip. “It’s just that I promised you that I’d go back and if I do I have to do the thing I’m scared of, so I thought maybe I’d practice one more time.”
“Practice?” Philip said in a puzzled voice. “You mean you were supposed to play something?”
“Yes, tonight’s the Christmas Eve Cantata, and, well Jonathan asked me to play… I always loved music from the beginning… it started with my friend… the one who gave me the snowboard… he loves music and when he would practice… well, I kinda started to like it, then love it, and Jonathan said I could learn and he would teach me… and I was supposed to play with my friend… he was gonna sing and I was gonna play… and…
Hosanna said all of this in rapid fire without taking a breath and said it in such a matter of fact way that it seemed he expected Philip to understand exactly what he was talking about.
Philip took the boy by the shoulders and moved him closer to him.
“Slow down, little boy,” Philip said, once again feeling a tug deep inside himself as his fatherly love tried to fight the sadness that wrapped itself like a blanket around his heart.
“I was supposed to play at the Christmas Eve Cantata,” Hosanna blurted out again. “I was supposed to accompany my friend. He was gonna sing and I was gonna play, but then I got scared… I don’t know if I’m good enough… so I kinda ran away and then got hurt and then came here and…”
Once again Hosanna’s words poured forth like a flood.
Philip could see fear in the boy, no longer there because of him, but because of the task he was expected to perform—a task that he was having grave doubts about.
“No one ever solved anything by running away, Hosanna,” he said as he guided the boy back to the piano bench.
“Why don’t you play it for me? I’ll be honest with you.”
Hosanna looked apprehensively at Philip.
“Go on, I promise this time I won’t yell.”
Hosanna slowly and carefully took his seat on the piano bench next to Philip. Once more he warily looked up at the man sitting next to him.
Philip smiled and gently nodded his head.
Hosanna raised his arms, brought his hands to the keyboard and rested his fingers on the keys.
Slowly and deliberately he began to play. At first his nervousness shone through as he self-consciously performed for Philip, but after a few bars he seemed lost in thought and concentration as his fingertips brushed over the keys and he moved his way along through the prelude.
Philip immediately recognized the song as an old German carol that he hadn’t heard since he was a child. He was surprised that the little boy even knew it, let alone played it as skillfully as he did. The music flowed and resonated throughout the room, and for the first time in ten months Philip Miller was listening to music that didn’t make him cringe, or get sick to his stomach, or break out in a cold sweat. The gentle melody seemed to flow directly into his body, giving it and his spirit comfort.
Suddenly there was a pause, a few dissonant notes and then silence.
Philip, who had been lost in thought, suddenly looked down at Hosanna whose hands were now at his side as he stared at the piano’s keys.
“I always mess that part up,” he said quietly as he made a fist and slammed it against his thigh, “and that’s the MOST IMPORTANT part! It’s right where the soloist comes in and begins his aria. That’s why I ran away. I CAN’T do it.”
“Of course you can,” Philip said in a voice that all his long-time students recognized as one of hope and encouragement. “Anyone who plays as beautifully as you can do it. Try it again—here, just before the solo part begins.”
Once more Hosanna began to play, but this time as he had done so often before with the hundreds of other children he had taught, Philip carefully observed the little boy.
Suddenly the dissonance of misplayed notes began again, and Hosanna immediately stopped.
“See, I told you! I just can’t get it.”
“Of course you can,” Philip said, “You’re thinking about it too much. You’re making it harder then you need to. Here, watch.”
And suddenly Philip Miller, the Philip Miller who swore that he would never play again, was going over the ancient melody and explaining to the young boy the best way to get through the transition.
“Now you try,” Philip said.
Again Hosanna began to play, but this time when he got to the part that was causing him trouble, Philip put his hands on the keys at a lower octave and played along with him talking to him at the same time as they slowly played note by note.
Over the next hour, Philip had Hosanna play the piece again and again, each time giving him more confidence and courage.
“I think you have it,” Philip said in his best music teacher’s voice. “No, Hosanna, I’m wrong. I KNOW your have it.”
“Do you really think so, Mr. Miller?”
“Yes Hosanna, I really think so,” he said, again giving the boy his warmest fatherly smile.
Suddenly Hosanna jumped from the piano bench. “I have to hurry, the cantata’s starting any minute and I don’t want to be late.”
As he ran from the music room, Philip followed him, but the boy was like a bolt of lightning as he grabbed his snowboard and zipped out front door into the snow… he exited so fast that he didn’t even close the door behind him.
Philip called after him as he scurried out the door.
“Hosanna, take your time and don’t get hurt again. Hosanna?”
But the boy was gone as Philip looked out onto the wintry scene before his eyes and saw only Hosanna’s footprints leading off into the darkness, then disappearing.
Suddenly, the heavy lead weight that he usually carried around in his chest in place of his heart made itself felt again. Quietly Philip closed his front door and walked slowly across his living room to where he had laid the injured boy when he first carried him into the house.
Staring at the couch, he backed up against his easy chair and dropped into it like a stone. For a few minutes, he just sat and stared into space, but little by little depression overtook him as his eyelids became heavier and he nodded off to sleep.
After what seemed like a few hours of deep dreamless sleep he awoke with a start. The room had suddenly gotten brighter. As he rose to his feet he realized that he wasn’t in his living room anymore.
Stretching out before him were great vistas of sky and clouds. As his eyes adjusted to the light he realized that he was somehow above the clouds, walking in the sky.
A flourish of movement caught his eye; as he turned to see what it was he gasped in shock and surprise. To his left was a great orchestra filled with instruments of all types, but what was even stranger was that the instruments were being played by angels.
Beyond the orchestra of angels stood a great and mighty choir. It too was made up mostly of angels, but here and there he noticed some men and women standing among the angels.
As he looked closer he could see that one of the men was Michelangelo Rosso, one of the great Italian tenors of the mid 20th century. Philip recognized his face from an old opera album he had in his music room. A few rows down from the famous tenor was Aaretta Jennson, one of the greatest jazz singers of her day. As he continued to survey the choir he kept recognizing well-known and famous singers standing among the angels.
The sound was magnificent, as voices mixed with music filled the sky and his heart felt like it had when Hosanna first played for him.
The song eventually came to an end and silence filled the dome of heaven. It was then that Philip noticed an intense light coming from his right… it was far too bright to look at but around the edges he could see great, handsome angels kneeling in adoration. He squinted and tried to look closer, but the light was far too blinding for his mortal eyes.
“Yes Philip,” a gentle voice said behind him, “it’s the throne of God.”
Philip turned to see a beautiful angel standing behind him. Startled, Philip stepped back and almost fell. The angel grasped him and steadied him.
“Welcome to the Christmas Cantata,” the angel said with a broad smile.
“But what… How…?” Philip stuttered.
“You’ve been invited through special invitation by two of our members.”
Philip eyes scanned the scene before him when suddenly from behind the choir a little angel appeared and began walking down the golden stairway on which the choir was massed. As he got closer, Philip recognized him as the boy who had hurt himself snowboarding down his street.
“We all want to thank you for helping him,” the smiling angel said.
“Helping him?” Philip looked at the angel
“I apologize, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Jonathan, director of the heavenly hosts. When angels are created they’re given various tasks based on their skills and talents; most assume the position of guardian angels, a very serious and important post, but not considered one of the glory assignments here in heaven. Greater respect and honor are given to the choir and its musicians, along with the cherubim and seraphim that worship at the throne. One of the greatest posts is heavenly organist. I held that post for fifteen centuries before I was named choir director, and for fifteen centuries before that I was junior organist.
“A few years ago, Hosanna approached the heavenly hosts and asked if he could try out for junior organist, but unfortunately he was a guardian angel and guardian angels just don’t have a talent for music. The most music they perform is the soft and gentle lullabies they sing to the humans they watch over when they are infants.
“But something happened that no one ever expected. Hosanna’s first assignment as a guardian angel was to a newborn baby named Timothy Miller of Middleburg.”
At the mention of Timothy’s name Philips face and heart fell.
But the still-smiling Jonathan continued. “Over the years that he guarded Timothy, he was surrounded by music—music that you performed, and taught, and created. Once again, he came to me asking if he could try out, but I told him that he would have to learn much before he would even be considered for the position.
“So, over the years as you taught Timothy, Hosanna was by his side, learning and absorbing. When Timothy slept Hosanna would practice, then in the morning resume his post as guardian angel for your son.
“As Timothy learned, so did Hosanna and over time a true miracle occurred, and an everyday guardian angel became a musician, and not just any musician but a great one.”
“But I don’t…” Philip was now stammering.
“You don’t understand, do you Phillip? Well I think you’re about to: Philip Miller, you were the teacher of one of God’s heavenly organists.”
Philip stood as still as a statue, partly from the grandeur of what he was seeing, partly from the words that the angel had just spoken.
Slowly Hosanna made his way to the great organ. It was magnificent, with pipes and bellows, trumpets and bells. Philip had never seen such a noble instrument.
The older angel who had been sitting on the bench playing for the choir slid off, and the little blond angel with a bump on the side of his head climbed up onto the bench. He was so small that his feet didn’t even touch the pedals.
Just as he had done in Philip’s house, Hosanna raised his arms, brought his hands to the keyboard and rested his fingers on the keys. He paused for a few seconds, then turned his head and looked at Philip with a bit of fear in his eyes.
Philip smiled and nodded his head in encouragement.
Suddenly Hosanna’s fingers pushed on the keys and the beautiful carol rolled from the organ like thunder through the great vaults of heaven. The notes seemed to dance among the clouds and echo through the sky.
With skill and determination Hosanna’s fingers raced across the golden and silver keys of the great organ. Then Philip held his breath as the little angel abruptly slowed down. This was the part where the soloist would soon come in. He grinned as he noticed the little angel move his tongue to the side of his mouth and bite on it. But just as he had done for Philip in his music room, Hosanna crossed over the bridge and started on the solo part.
Then a beautiful, crystal clear sound, almost like a ringing of the sweetest silver bell ever rung, began to fill the air. Philip turned his head in the direction of the singer who had begun to sing in the sweetest and clearest soprano voice he had ever heard.
Philip blinked, then blinked again, for there in front of the heavenly hosts stood Timothy, his Timothy, Timothy Andrew Miller, and the clear voice he was listening to was the voice of his young and handsome son. As he looked closely he could see that around Timothy’s neck was a single note on a golden chain. Philip recognized it as the very one he had given Timothy on his eleventh birthday, the year before he became sick. And he remembered how he had kissed him and gently put it around his son’s all too thin and frail neck before the casket he was resting in closed for the last time.
Philip stared, marveling. Gone was the thin and tiny child who had lost his hair and needed to be carried about in his father’s arms. Here stood his son, strong and whole once again, singing in a voice more beautiful than the entire choir of the heavenly hosts.
For at least ten minutes, Timothy sang, his voice floating on the notes coming from Hosanna’s skillful fingers and rolling like thunder through the great vaults of heaven.
Then the song came to an end and Hosanna turned and smiled once again at Philip. Leaning against the organ, Philip saw, was the blue scuffed snowboard that Hosanna had ridden down his street, and he recognized it as the same board that Timothy had often ridden before he became ill. It was then that he realized that Timothy was the friend of whom Hosanna had spoken.
Philip’s vision was becoming blurred with tears and he began to feel a bit disoriented when he felt a tugging at his arm. Looking down, he saw Timothy standing beside him.
“Here, Dad,” Timothy said with a broad sunny smile, “take this and keep it until we’re singing together again.”
Then the boy grabbed Philip’s hand and thrust something into it… as he did, the light coming from the heavenly throne flared, overpowering the scene, and Philip was once again blinded.
Waking with a start, he almost fell over as he bolted up from the easy chair he had fallen asleep in. “What a strange dream!” he thought, when suddenly he noticed something in his hand. He opened his fist and a flash of gold tumbled from his fingers onto the floor. Bending down, he picked up a single golden note attached to a golden chain. He stared at it.
Then, as if suddenly released from a spell, he ran into the kitchen and looked at the clock. Ten thirty—there was still time.
Throwing on his coat, Philip burst out the front door of his house, not bothering to close the door, just as Hosanna had hours earlier.
Running through the deep drifts of snow he would fall and roll only to get up and run some more until he fell again. Finally he reached Market Street and St. Paul’s church, where he burst through the doors and ran to the choir room.
The choir, who had been diligently practicing, stopped abruptly and turned in the direction of the commotion behind them.
“Philip?” Wendy Jones said with a bit of surprise in her voice, “it’s good to see you.”
Wendy had been the assistant director under Philip and had stepped into his post after he resigned.
“I came to hear you tonight… to wish you all luck… to wish you all a Merry Christmas, and to say I’m sorry for abandoning you,” Philip said as his voice began to choke.
“Hear us?” Wendy said with a smile. “Why don’t your direct us?”
“Ah, no… really… I…”
“Nonsense, of course you can. It’s all your material anyway, Philip, and we haven’t changed a thing. I know that you remember everything by heart.”
Just then old Mr. Kelly stepped forward. He was bent over from age and his choir robe gave him a slightly amusing appearance, but he was a kind old man who had been faithful to the choir since he and his wife Nancy joined the church almost fifty years earlier.
“Philip,” he said with a pause, “we’d be honored.”
That night, as Philip led the St. Paul’s Church Christmas Cantata, the voices of his choir floated through the air in joyful song as their spirits soared under the baton of their old director.
But Philip didn’t hear them… instead he heard a single solitary soprano voice clear as a silver bell and bright as the sun as it floated on the notes of a great and mighty organ, played by a little blond angel with a bump on the side of his head, while the music he played danced among clouds, filling the sky with joyous song and rolling like thunder through the great vaults of heaven.

Leonardo:
He was tall and very skinny. He wore peculiar glasses that made him look like a bookworm. His clothes were often mismatched and sometimes they were strange and uncommon as if they were from somewhere else in history.
There were other things that made him different, but then what would I know being a jeans and tee shirt boy.
He wore a ring with a big glittery stone. He took it off and let me look through it and see a shattered world.
He said, "That's what the world is really like. It shows you how broken everything is."
I gave him a puzzled look. I didn't know what he meant, but he said it as if he knew things no one else did.
He wore rawhide bracelets strung with different colored beads. He told me that they were magic. Around his neck he wore a very ornate cross but claimed to be an atheist. He said, "I don't believe God or governments but I do believe in magic." I had never met anyone like him before.
I stopped my bike to take a closer look. His blond hair was short and combed. It was the only normal thing about him and because of that, it didn't fit his overall image. It only made him look stranger.
"My name's Leonardo, you may shake my hand."
He extended his hand like he was some kind of royalty. We shook and became friends. I told him my name, Jamie.
I looked up at him and saw that his face had broken out and that he had already started shaving. I remember noticing that he had an Adam's apple that seemed to go up and down when he laughed or swallowed. He looked all grown-up to me but he didn't act like any of the adults I knew. I asked him how old he was. He said he was sixteen.

Leonardo also had many weird gestures that where dramatic, expressive or just plain crazy. There were so many and they changed so often that I couldn't keep track of them all. When I closed my eyes and listened to him talk, he sounded almost like a beautiful girl.
I rolled along on my bike next to him while he walked and talked. He went on and on about things I never had heard of before. I didn't understand but I liked listening to him. It was sort of like a new and unfamiliar music.
Being on a street lined with development houses was like being under a magnifying glass. I think we both had the sense that we were being watched by people behind windows and fenced in yards. Gradually we made our way towards a less populated area. We walked together along a road that connected one small town with another. Vines and reeds had become overgrown on the side of the road and I showed him a secret path that led to a hole in the fence. I dumped my bike in the underbrush and we walked out into the open field together. Once free of civilization I relaxed with him and he with me.
He said, "What's your full name?"
I said, "Jimmy, actually James Wooly."
Leonardo said, "That's not nearly enough of a name for you. I've changed my name lots of times."
I said, "I like it."
He continued. "You need something more aristocratic. You need a name like mine."
He cleared his throat and puffed himself up. "My name is Leonardo Alexander William Florien Victor Baxter."
Before I could say anything he said, "The third!"
It was comical but I accepted it as truth. He seemed to like that I listened to him with interest and that I didn't see the need to challenge him.
"If we get to be really good friends I'll invent a name for you. I think you look sort like a, Maximilian. You might be in the direct line for the throne of some lost kingdom. You never can tell."
I knew it wasn't true but I liked that he imagined that about me.
We waded into a patch of tall grass and then smoothed out a space where we could sit secluded from the rest of the world. Leonardo sat length ways and looked at me as if he was calculating or something.
"I like your hair. You should grow it longer and use plenty of cream rinse. I would grow mine very long but my dad makes me get it cut once a month like clockwork."
I had no idea what cream rinse was and I never really gave my hair a thought. I only got it cut when it became a nuisance. He reached out and ran his fingers through a hanging down lock of my hair.
"Black hair with blue eyes is very exotic. Jamie, you are very cute, did you know that?"
I shrugged my shoulders. Leonardo could clearly see that I was enjoying the attention even if I did look slightly embarrassed. Maybe I should have been afraid of a stranger paying me this kind of unusual attention but I wasn't. Leonardo looked harmless.
He reminded me of a kid in school who always used to get beaten up. I could see where Leonardo's high horse about aristocracy invited pissed off boys to drag him down just for the fun of it. When he moved closer, I wasn't afraid and if there was a reason to be afraid, I didn't care.
"You have any brothers or sisters?"
I told him that I just live with my Mom.
Leonardo said, "My parents split up and my sister is with my Mother and I live with my Dad."
He continued. "My Dad hates me but that's okay because I hate him too. He says I'm hopeless. I don't know why but I still try to please him."
I studied his face and suddenly I could see passed his glasses. He looked fragile and defenseless.
He smiled at me and said, "My dad said that I am totally useless. He says I should have been killed at birth. I think he is probably right."
Leonardo was going on about how miserable he was living with his father.
He said, "I wish I could live somewhere else. I wish I could find a place where people liked me and everyone is happy. Let's change the subject, talking about my Father is making me depressed."
I sat up and offered encouragement. "I haven't known you very long and I like you."
Saying that seemed to put him off balance. He tried to say something but was blocked by a stutter that seemed to go on and on. I had heard about things like that but I didn't understand what caused them.
When he finally got passed it he said, "That's because you're a nice person and not an asshole."
We were stretched out together in the tall grass, unobserved, carefree and pleased with our new friendship. There were several long pauses where there was barely word or maybe a laugh.
Finally Leonardo looked over to me and said, "You ever jerk-off?"
He said it as if it was something that had been troubling him. I looked up at large clouds that had formed in the sky.
Still looking up I said, "Yeah."
He looked relieved.
I said, "I do when I'm in the mood."
Leonardo laughed and said, "I do it all the time. I can't help it."
Without a word of agreement we did what all boys do. We opened our pants and started a stroke. We also did what all boys do. We looked at each other's cocks. My self image was pretty good and since I had just started playing with myself I was proud of my dick. It was almost five inches when I was hard. I liked the idea of showing it off. I pulled it out so Leonardo could see. He looked at it with great interest. Then he pushed his pants and shirt out of the way revealing a large boner and big balls. I think my mouth must have dropped open at the sight of it. He let me see it and then hid it as if he was ashamed. I had no idea that cocks got that big.
"God damn Leo, did you ever measure it?"
He looked sheepish and said, "Yeah, I think it is a bit over 8 inches."
We lay together and worked on ourselves. I looked down at our two sets of feet twisting and turning as we got closer. Leonardo started breathing hard until his whole body tightened up. When he came, he squirted cum all over his chest and as high up as his chin. He even had to wipe it off of his neck. I was totally amazed. I never came much more than a teaspoon full.Leonardo cleaned himself up.
I knew that boys do this with other boys for reference and comparison so I was untroubled by the experience. However, it was my turn to finish up. I had to show off my dose of cum to complete the bond of friendship between us. I started stroking again. Leonardo moved closer and slipped his arm around me so that I could rest my head on him while I did it. Without stopping I turned so that I could see his face. He looked calm and gentle and it felt good being close to someone. I was getting close so I began to do it faster. He pulled closer to me so that the length of his warm body was next to mine. He began to whisper words into my ear. I couldn't understand what he was saying but it sent chills through me and it was making me cum. The experience was so intense that I cried out. I had never done anything like that before. I lay next to him exhausted and out of breath. I felt him cuddling me as if I was something rare and precious.
Sometime went by before I recovered enough to sit up and look around. Leonardo was strangely quiet and subdued. Silently we put ourselves back together. He wouldn't look at me directly and behaved as if he was guilty of something terrible. It took walking through the tall grass and exploring before it wore off and he was back to being his silly self again. It was the heat of the day and thirst that drove us back to civilization. We both walked into the QuikiMart. Before we could get very far into the store, Mr. Daggett, the manager came out from behind the counter.
He pointed a finger directly at Leonardo. "You! Get out of here before I call the police. If you come in here one more time I will kick the shit out of you!"
Leonardo had a horrified look on his face. He backed away and turned and ran out of the store.
Mr. Daggett looked down at me and said, "I not talking about you Jamie, I'm talkin about him comin in here and stealin stuff."
He might as well have been talking about me because I was just as scared as Leonardo looked. I got two cans of coke and pulled out my money. I went to pay and Mr. Daggett leaned forward and began to talk to me in confidence.
"Jamie, what do you want to be hanging around with that trash for? I know you are a good kid but he's not for you. He lies and steals and you don't want to be associated with that do you? That kind of stuff rubs off and he's headed for serious trouble."
He lowered his voice and continued. "Jamie, he's never been seen with any girls. You know what I'm talkin about when I say something like that? So if you don't want something bad to happen to you will tell him to stay the fuck away from you."
I thought he was finished when he added, "Listen to me Jamie, if he touches or tries anything funny, you come and tell me and you can bet your ass I'll do something about it."
When I came out of the store, Leonardo was gone.

Freak:
A few weeks went by before I saw Leonardo again. It's not like I wasn't on the lookout for him, I was but we never crossed paths. The time had come for me to go down to the Freedom and Liberty Mall and shop for a new game. Since it took an hour to get there by bus, I always spent a few hours hanging around. There was a pitiful excuse for an arcade that was good for about a half an hour distraction so after I bought my game I stopped by. I always liked to watch whoever was on Dance Revolution. Sometimes there would be a cute girl or a pair of girls or more often two boys competing to see who was best. No one was there but off in the corner was someone I recognized. Although I don't know how I recognized him because he looked completely different. His hair was yellow with black and brown leopard spots and both his shirt and pants were red. Today he was wearing one earring with a black sharks tooth hanging from it.
When I came up to him I must have looked confused because all I could say was "What happened to your eye brows?"
He laughed.
Leave it to Leonardo to try to look daring or ultra cool and end up looking silly. To make matters worse, he was standing in front of a brightly lit machine and was holding a large green mallet that looked like it came out of a cartoon. A bucked toothed chip monk popped out of a hole behind him and he quickly turned and swung at it. He missed. Then another one popped out of another hole and he tried to hit that one and missed.
He had a slight fit and then clawed at his own face in exasperation. "Oh Fuck!"
On top of all that, he had a four foot long skateboard with him. No one who is serious about skateboards has one that long. Leonardo looked proud. He said it was for cross-country. I already had my game and I told him I had to get home. Before I did, he grabbed me and pulled on me.
He said, "You hate me, don't you?"
I laughed and said, "No Leo, I don't hate you, you just look so weird without eyebrows. I was looking for you and this is the first time I ran into you."
He put his glasses back on and didn't look quite so weird. "I figured once you got to know me you wouldn't like me anymore but I have to tell you, I'm already prepared for that, so don't think you can just hurt me because I'm used to it."
I said, "Leo, relax, I like you and you haven't given me any reason to hate you so calm down, okay?"
He switched his glasses for a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. He slanted his gate and said, "Cool."
I couldn't help but laugh but I had no bad feeling towards him.

Crazy:
It was another week before I saw him again. This time he snuck up behind me and tapped me on my shoulder. When I turned and looked at him I didn't know who he was. I soon realized that it was Leonardo. His hair was black and his eyebrows had almost grown back in. What was lacking he had enhanced with a marker giving each eye brow a neat plaid pattern which was a much better look.
It was a subdued Leonardo, a Leonardo that looked like he had found even more trouble.
"Jamie, I'm really sorry, I get manic. Please don't hate me."
I asked, "What's Manic?" 
He said, "It's when I sort of go crazy. Usually it's when I stop taking my meds."
He smiled at me and said, "I'm fine now."
He reassured me, "Really I am."
Secretly I didn't believe him and I decided that the smart thing would be to lose him in a hurry.
He got up close to me and whispered in my ear. "Let's go back to that place and jerk-off."
The suggestion was a surprise because I hadn't been thinking about anything like that.
I said, "I don't know, I don't think I'm really in the mood."
Leo became sly and mischievous. He whispered again in my ear so that I felt his warm breath.
"I'll get you in the mood. I'm very good at that."
I went along reluctantly. I had other things to do so I guess I was doing it just to please Leonardo. We went through the hole in the fence and out into the field. When we found our spot and settled in.
He cuddled up next to me and said, "Jamie, let me do it for you. Just lay there and let me make you cum. I want to do it and I promise you don't have to do it to me."
It seemed strange that he released me from any obligation but I didn't question it. I watched while he fiddled with my pants and then felt me through my underwear.
He whispered in my ear. "You don't have to do anything. All you have to do is cool-out and let me make you cum."
He pulled my pants further down and then my underwear. We both looked at my boner sticking up, twitching. He pet my balls and my penis. I noticed that his hand seemed to be trembling. He made it easier for me to cuddle closer to him. This was much better than a quick jerk in my own bed.
He whispered in my ear. "Jamie, I dreamed about you and in my dream we were doing this. In the dream we were both happy."
Hearing him made my boner so hard.
He said, "Tell me when I'm doing it right to make you cum."
He was stroking me and I moved my body up and down under his hand. I was breathing through my mouth and I looked into his face.
I said, "Like that. Keep doing it like that."
He knew exactly what I meant and he brought me closer.
He whispered into my ear, "Cum. I want you to."
It started with a tremor that went through my whole body and I started squirting. Leonardo held me so that I could let go of everything.....and I did.
I came out of it in a much better mood. I felt refreshed and energetic. We gathered ourselves and started out.
Out on the road I said, "What about you Leo? You didn't get to cum."
He said, "Feeling you cum was so much better."
I didn't understand but he seemed to be happy.We headed our separate ways.
Isolation:
My mother opened the door. A tall boy wearing glasses, tight pale blue pants and a black shirt, stood in front of her.
"Is Jamie here?"
Without looking away from him she called, "Jamie! Someone's here to see you!"
Leonardo extended his hand but my Mother didn't respond. She looked suspiciously at him. The strange boy was taller than she was. When I showed up at the door there was a standoff. She wouldn't let him in and Leo didn't try.
I said, "Leo, come in."
My Mother grudgingly let him pass.
She was sarcastic and under her voice she said, "He's a little old for you to be associating with, don't you think Jamie?"
I said, "He's alright."
She relented and we headed for my room.
Leo looked around my cluttered room and said, "God, you have so much stuff and it's all out where you can see it."
He turned to me and said, "My Dad is very militaristic. Everything has to be put away and be perfectly neat.
The only place to sit was together on my bed. Leo picked up my photo book and flipped through it. The door to my room slowly opened and I looked up to see my Mother standing there. She was motionless but her eyes went from me to Leonardo and back to me. Her expression was both serious and doubtful.
She crossed her arms and said, "Jamie, I have to go to work and I want you to know that I don't want any trouble or unexpected surprises when I get back."
She looked at Leonardo and said pointedly, "How old are you?"
Leonardo answered almost apologetically, "Sixteen."
She slowly turned to go and said, "Okay, no trouble, understand?"
We heard the front door close and then the car start up. I was used to my Mother's ways and we actually got along but it was plain to see that she regarded Leonardo with caution. It wasn't until we heard the car drive off that Leo seemed to relax.
He looked at me and said, "Adults are the enemy. They always look at me like they want to destroy me. It's like I can hear them saying, You're a failure or you are a fuck-up. My Dad wants to put me in the army so's I will learn to be a man. Even your Mom looked like she was going to call the cops on me and I didn't even do anything."
I tried to reassure him. "No, that's just her way of trying to look out for me, she's okay, really."
Leo made an uncharacteristic frown. "I hate adults!"
I said, "But you're almost an adult yourself. I mean in less than two years you'll be eighteen and I got four more whole years to go. I just want to be old enough to drive."
I thought for a moment and then said, "You can't hate adults when you're almost going to be one."
He said, "I'll have no problem. I'm used to hating myself."
He continued, "I won't grow-up, I don't want to! I hate everything serious, I hate responsibility and I don't want to go to work, get married and have kids and buy a house and all that shit! I just want to be who I am without people trying to force me to be what they want me to be."
His tension gave way to defeated resignation.
He held his face in his hands and mumbled, "I can't, I can't, I can't."
I was fourteen and I didn't seem to have a problem striving for maturity. I was even looking forward to it. Leonardo wiped his eyes. He had been crying. I put my arm around him and tried to comfort him. He seemed to cheer up a bit and was wanting to leave his frustrations behind. He dug into his pocket and pulled out something enclosed in his hand.
"Here, I got this for you."
It was a small pewter dolphin mounted on a crystal. Its body was arched as if it was jumping above the waves. I placed it on a shelf where I kept my collection of little things.
"Look, Leo, I'm putting it right next to Pika the Pokemon. Thanks him, "You didn't need to do that."
He was returning to normal, at least as normal as he was able. "I got it for you because I really believe we are friends. I mean I hope we are friends."
He looked at me wanting a confirmation.
I said, "Yeah, You're weird, but I do like you."
A long moment of silence set the mood in motion. I was waiting for Leo to start it. For all I know he planned it out in advance but I didn't care. He put his hand on my leg and I spread out in willing acceptance. He was looking at me and I reached out and carefully pulled off his stupid glasses. I looked into his face. He looked fragile and vulnerable and in a funny way, he even looked younger than me.
He moved his hand over my crotch and gently squeezed.
If I hadn't wanted him to, all I had to do was to stand up and tell him he was a perv, but I knew Leonardo would be crushed and he would run away and never come back... Why would I do that? I could tell that he had genuine feeling towards me and anyway, I liked him. I would probably jerk off before the end of the day anyway so why not share it with him. I didn't care and it made him feel good so what's the big fuckin deal?
It didn't matter if I liked girls or maybe there was a possibility that I might be gay, here was someone who liked me and devoted himself to me. Besides, I didn't have to return the favor if I didn't want to. I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants for him.
Leo raised himself and looked out the window to make sure that the car was gone. I said, "Don't worry, she won't be back until evening."
He whispered into my ear. "Jamie, I'll do anything for you.
I know about all the bad things people say about stuff like this, but I believe we didn't do anything wrong. Everything we did was sort of friendly, natural and I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to. I can't speak for Leonardo but he was always kind to me and even though he might have tricked me into having sex, he never made me do anything I didn't want to.

I know I'm not gay but I grew to love Leo. He had a sweet and giving nature and wouldn't ever hurt anyone. He only wanted to be loved. Even so, I fear for him. People that don't even know him, suspect in him impulses that he doesn't even know he has. They try and convict him in their own minds and look for an excuse to crush him. For people like this, there is no word for love, there is only molestation, harassment, sodomy and rape.

He said to me, "Have you ever been in love?"
It was a strange question and I had no idea how to answer it. I pushed out my lower lip and shrugged my shoulders.
Leonardo looked off in the distance as if he was trying to see something far away. "I have. If you don't you're lucky because it can fuck you up so bad."
He looked sort of sad but suddenly began joking and laughing again. It was puzzling but I didn't have nearly enough experience to understand. I think it was the first time in my life where I saw someone that exposed and defenseless.
I loved Leonardo from that moment on.

*Knock Knock Knock*
What the hell? Kevin wrinkled his nose. He didn’t want to get up and see who was at the door. No one was home but him, and no one would be knocking on the door for him. He assumed it was probably an adult, and one who would want to speak to the tenant of their apartment. Kevin was only a kid, and obviously not the man in charge of the place.
Gale, his older brother, had been telling him not to answer the door when no one was home for as long as he could remember, especially in this neighbourhood. There were all kinds of crazies here. And Kevin being home without his older brother meant just that – no one was home. Kevin and his older brother by twice his age had been living together on their own for quite some time, and they were lucky enough to be able to afford living where they had been for the past few years, even though it was a rough neighbourhood, and even though the apartment itself was pretty shabby. Not one where you’d be excited inviting someone over for dinner. Kevin had roughened up some too. His language, both verbal and body, weren’t the most gentle, and they weren’t always polite. After all, he was a kid, and an emotional one. He got mad easily, and sad easily, too.
He didn’t think it would do any harm to see through the peephole who might be on the other side. They rarely got visitors knocking on their door and so Kevin felt surprised and a little curious.
*Knock Knock Knock*
Oh my gosh, okay, okay! Sounds like this person really wants in. Maybe they’re one of those crazies. Kevin let out a frustrated sigh. He hit the pause button on the TV remote and lazily pulled himself off of the worn out couch, heading toward the door. When he got there, he put an eye at the glass peephole and saw a fisheye-lens view of a boy his age – a dark haired boy with tanned skin in navy blue shorts and a white t-shirt. It was a boy he knew.
Henry? What’s he doing here? Kevin wrinkled his nose again, not knowing what to think. He felt his face lose some of its colour. He felt a little nervous.
*Knock Knock Knock*
“Okay, okay, jeez! Calm down!” Kevin hissed sharply under his breath as he undid the door chain and unlocked the door, pulling it in toward him.
“Took ya long enough.” Henry said. “You kept me waiting.”
“Well…I was taking my time. I was a little ‘preoccupied’,” Kevin said unenthusiastically, attempting to appear uninterested and bored.
“Too ‘preoccupied’ for your friend?” Henry grinned. Kevin didn’t return it. He simply stood there, staring with dead eyes at Henry.
Henry’s grin slowly faded, his eyes losing a bit of the energy he’d had only seconds ago.
“What do you want Henry?” Kevin asked flatly.
“Oh. Well, I can see how welcome I am. Okay, I get it. If you don’t want me around, I’ll go.”
“Henry, wait,” Kevin called out. He was surprised to hear himself do so. He raised his hands and then dropped them back to his sides as he tried to find the right words to say. “I…I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, it’s not like you come around like you used to, right?” Kevin shrugged, this time looking back at Henry with some animation in his face.
Henry let out a long, defeated sigh. He knew why Kevin was acting as he was, even though his friend wasn’t being explicit. Changing his tone, he said, “C’mon Kev, please. I just want to talk to you. Pushing me away isn’t gonna help anything.”
Kevin took in a deep breath. He was about to respond but then pinched his lips shut. “Fine. You can come inside.”
“You sure?” Henry asked stiffly, his body not moving an inch. Both his verbal and body language were equally stiff. He didn’t feel welcomed and it was obvious.
“Yeah.” Kevin nodded a few times, his face softening up. He was looking tired. “Yeah I’m sure.” Kevin pulled the door even wider and stepped back to let Henry in. Henry slowly entered onto the old and stained parquet flooring with stained and peeling white walls around him.
“How exactly did you get in?” Kevin asked Henry.
“Old man Graham at the security desk recognized me and buzzed me in,” Henry said. “He’s a nice man. Maybe too nice for his job sometimes.” Looking around the small apartment, seeing the messy kitchen and living room, he said, “You said you were preoccupied. I can see now that it wasn’t cleaning the place up any that you were preoccupied with.”
“As I said, I was taking my time,” Kevin said with a drawl.
“TV? Oh, cartoons…” Henry smirked as he walked toward the screen. On it was a cartoon image on pause of a large woman with white hair and an expression that was not too happy. “So that’s what you were ‘preoccupied’ with.”
“Drop it, Henry. And it’s not a TV show I was watching. It was a movie. An animated movie,” Kevin said with a hint of irritation in his voice.
“What of?” Henry asked. Kevin took the DVD box of the movie by his seat on the couch and handed it to his friend. Henry looked at the glossy cover and grinned.
“Ah…this movie was good. I watched it a while ago though, so I don’t remember much.”
“Yup,” Kevin said. “Loved the old animated TV series, too,” he added.
“Yeah, I remember watching those as a kid. You still like it?”
“Yeah. And they’re just as good now that I’m a teenager,” Kevin said with a hint of a challenge in his voice, as though daring Henry to argue the point.
“Well, yeah,” Henry said with a little shrug in his shoulders. “Teenagers. And then, after the next two months…we’ll be in high school.” Henry looked over at Kevin. Kevin shifted his gaze away, feeling uncomfortable.
“So…did you wanna do something?” Kevin said, changing the topic. “We could watch a movie…play a video game…board game…do the dishes…just talk?”
“I was thinking of the fair,” Henry said, looking hopeful. “It’s not that late right now and anyway, they close late so we’ve got plenty of time to have some fun.”
Kevin turned his head and looked back at Henry. “We? Have some fun?” He let out a laugh of disbelief. “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve had some of that.”
Henry frowned. “Yeah, well…now’s our chance, Kev. C’mon, we’ll get back before your brother gets off from work. We won’t get into trouble. Promise.”
“Trouble?” Kevin let out a dry laugh. “You’re joking, right? That’s about the only thing we’ve ever gotten into. Trouble. With you around, that shit’s bound to happen.”
“Yeah, but it was always worth it, right?” Henry grinned, a look of excitement coming back into his eyes. He knew what his friend was thinking.
Kevin let out a sigh. His friend was slowly winning him over. “Yeah, all the time,” he said softly, nodding.
Henry laughed. “You got that right. But hey, this time…let’s just have a good time together, yeah?”
Kevin sighed, then shrugged, feeling some of the emotions he’d had when he’d open the door returning. “Henry…we need to talk.”
Henry frowned. “Yeah, I know.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “I have some things I need to tell you. I don’t know if you’re ready to hear them, but…okay, let’s just…” Henry let out a frustrated sighed as he scratched the back of his head. “C’mon, you’ve gotta see what’s at the fair. It’ll be awesome. We could talk there. What’dya say?” Henry felt nervous, hoping his friend wouldn’t back out. Kevin stood quietly, weighing his options. “Look, I know you’re still pissed off at me,” Henry finally said.
“I’m just…sad. Kinda mad too but…mostly just sad,” Kevin muttered quietly, suddenly looking very tired. Henry’s face fell and he opened his mouth to say something, but Kevin quickly changed the topic, having now made up his mind. Henry was, after all, the only friend he had ever truly had. They had been friends for as long as he could remember, and although things had gone south, he knew deep down that he didn’t want to lose him. “Look, if I go with you…I’ll have to at least get the dishes washed. Otherwise Gale will give me a hard time when he gets off from work tonight,” he said, walking over to the kitchen.
“Okay, I can help you.” Henry quickly followed him.
Kevin furrowed his brow. He knew Henry didn’t like doing chores, especially dish washing. “You sure you don’t wanna just crash on the couch and watch something?”
“Nah. C’mon. Soap, bubbles, water, and a good friend to fool around with? Who could resist?”
Kevin grinned, knowing that his friend was doing this for their sake. “Jeez, Henry, you sure that’s the best way to put it?”
“What better way to put it? Sounds, uh…pretty…clean to me. Clean and fun,” he said sarcastically as he put on the dishwashing gloves.
Kevin rolled his eyes, “Washing the dishes is fun?”
“With the right person, hell yeah, it could be fun. Loads of it,” Henry said with false excitement.
“You of all people know that’s bullshit,” Kevin said, shaking his head.
Henry ignored it. “Here, have some white stuff,” he said, blowing a thick wad of bubbles he made from the soap in his cupped hand.
“Ugh! Hey, quit it, Henry!” Kevin ducked, shrinking his head back and away as his friend cackled. Some soap had gotten on his face and shirt, and Kevin was not too happy about it. “Fuck, that’s nasty! Now I’m going to have to change,” Kevin whined. Henry continued cackling.
“Oh, lighten up, Kev! Live a little.”
There weren’t many dishes to wash, and with the two of them they cut down the time it would’ve taken Kevin working alone to get the dishes done by half. Kevin washed his face and then walked into his room to change into a pair of faded jeans and an old t-shirt. He slung on a backpack and put two water bottles into it in case they got thirsty, and checked he had a bit of money in his pocket. Stepping out into the living room, he saw Henry over by the portfolio of their grade 8 class graduation photos lying open on the table.
“I won’t be forgetting all of this anytime soon, even if I do have to leave it all behind,” Henry said, turning back from the picture and looking at Kevin. “I have a lot of memories.”
Kevin smiled sadly. “Yeah. Yeah, me too. But I really couldn’t care less for most of the other kids. Or teachers.”
“Same,” Henry said, pausing for a moment. “Hey, you ready to go? I’ve got my ticket they gave us along with our report card.”
“Yeah, I’ve got mine, too. Let’s go.”
 
----oooOOOooo----
 
“Damn! Now that was one hell of a lineup!” Henry exclaimed after they finally got through the gate and into the fair. The entire place as far as one could see was bustling with people – kids with their parents, groups of young and older teens together, and couples both young and old. There were babies in strollers and tired mothers, summer camp groups of kids all wearing matching shirts – some yellow, some green. The fair was run by adults and high school or college students trying to make some money. Although the sun was still up, the lights were blinking by all of the booths, tents, game stations, rides, various street vendors, and food trucks, providing an air of fun and excitement.
The fairground was alive and noisy, and the air was hot and humid. Some people were actively engaged in and having fun with the activities and their friends. Others were exhausted, slick and glossy with sweat, more than ready to go home. Kevin and Henry stopped by a station to pay for some tickets.
“Hey, look over there,” Henry pointed to a group of three kids their age several meters ahead getting themselves some ice cream waffles. “I didn’t know those guys were going to the fair today,” he remarked. They shared some of the classes that both Henry and Kevin were in at school, and although Kevin knew them, he didn’t really talk to them. They were Tom, a tall and lanky boy in a tank top with short, short hair; Donald, a short and heavyset boy who appeared delighted to have two ice cream waffles, one in each hand; and Ron, who had curly hair and never seemed to be dressed for the weather. “Might’ve been nice going in a group together.”
Kevin gave a little shrug. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“We’re not really friends. Might be nice going with a group, depending on the company. But since I don’t talk to them much I’d be the odd one out.”
“Oh?” Henry responded, raising his eyebrows. “I thought they were your friends. Sort of, anyway. I mean, out of all the other kids at school, they’re the only ones I see you sometimes talking to.”
“That’s really only when you’re around. They’re your friends.”
“Well…” Henry sighed, giving a small shrug of his own. “I mean I guess I hang out with them but…”
They continued walking, now entering the aisles between rows of booths and stations. Kevin noted that Henry had stopped mid-sentence, not much wanting or knowing how to continue. They slowed down and stopped in front of a Watergun game station. The walls and roof of the game booth were completely covered with a ridiculous number of plush toys, of every size and colour, and of assorted animals and objects. There was nearly no empty wall space. In front of the booth were five red stools for the players to sit on. A man in a red shirt ran the game, and he was looking around for new players as he shouted a come-on spiel into a microphone.
“But?” Kevin asked, prompting his friend to continue.
“I don’t think they were who I really needed,” Henry finished. Kevin looked at him quietly for a moment. Henry diverted his eyes and over the noise of the crowds and the voice of the man at the game booth on the microphone, he said, “Hey, do you wanna play this; try our hand at winning something?” Upon seeing that they had stopped in front of the booth, the man working the game started blaring into the microphone, encouraging them to come, have some fun, and win something. He seemed almost more forceful than encouraging. The whole place was loud and buzzing with bells, whistles, chatter, and the annoying loud voices of the other people running their games over the mic.
“Um…” Kevin thought, contemplating if he really wanted to play.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll beat you.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“I get to see the look of defeat on your face.” By then, three other people had taken their seats on the stools next to them.
“You sure you’re gonna win now with more competition?” Kevin asked with a smirk, seeing the other people who had joined the game.
“Of course, of course,” Henry said, appearing confident with a smile.
“Okay. Whatever you say,” Kevin grinned as the two of them took their seats.
The man blared on his mic once again and upon the sound of the horn, all five people shot their water guns into a hole with a flap covering it to try to keep it open so that on the wall facing them, their horseman could move to the finish line as fast as they could.
To Kevin’s amazement, out of the five horsemen, Henry’s was in the lead, while his was in fourth place.
“Betcha five bucks I win this race!” Henry hollered to his friend next to him over the noise.
“Hell no!” Kevin yelled back, his mind now concentrating on shooting the water through the hole. “This game ain’t even worth that much.”
“Woot woot, here I come!” Henry shouted excitedly. And when the horns and blinking lights went off as he got to the finish line, he raised his fists into the air. “I told you so! Beat your ass big time,” he said, feeling proud.
“Aw shit,” Kevin frowned.
“And player 1 wins!” the announcer whooped as the other three players reacted appropriately. The man turned around, reached up on the wall for a prize. Henry was given a little pig plush toy.
“Aw, you got a pig,” Kevin laughed.
“Oink oink!” Henry squealed, squeezing the nose of his new pink friend.
“Haha, c’mon, let’s walk around and see what else there is to do,” Kevin said. The two of them got off the stools and continued down in the direction they previously were headed in.
As they weaved through the crowds, staying close to each other, they saw a variety of other game booths – games of both chance and skill. There was a long lineup of people wanting to play ‘Ring the Bell’ or ‘High Striker’, where players had to hit a lever system with a mallet to send a puck up and ring the bell.
“Gather ‘round everybody! Test your strength! Let’s see who are the men, who are the boys!”
“Pssh, that’s how they get the guys to play,” Kevin rolled his eyes.
“Especially the high schoolers,” Henry added. “Every guy wants to be an alpha male. Best o’ da boys and best wid da girls,” he laughed.
“Yeah…isn’t that something,” Kevin murmured absent-mindedly.
“Think they’ve rigged any of these games?” Henry asked.
“Maybe. Probably. No idea. Wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were,” Kevin replied.
They passed by an animal pen having sheep, goats, llamas, and ostriches; some food places either selling something greasy and juicy like burgers and hotdogs, or sweet like ice cream and blue and pink cotton candy. They saw a few children’s rides, such as dragon themed carts, spinning rides in various carriages – some of which were styled after fruits such as apples and strawberries – and other games involving groups of people shooting basketballs, or machines for a solo player wanting to try his hand at using the crane and claw to pick up a toy, stuffed animal, or other prize.
And then there was the fun house. In previous years there was the same older fun house at every annual fair, but this year it had been decided to get rid of the old in favour of a newly structured one with new tricks and surprises. Kevin and Henry found themselves looking up at a giant clown face with an enormous open smile. It stood three floors up as showcased by three levels of flamboyantly stylized balconies, and was covered in every bright colour imaginable. There seemed to be no empty spaces, spaces without decorations of some kind covering them. Where there were no decorations, there was something painted, something carnival-themed and almost vibrating with bright, fun-fair spirited colours. A long line-up of people stood at the entrance, waiting excitedly for their chance at getting to see what was in store for them on the inside.
“Oh man, we’ve gotta go in there!” Henry exclaimed excitedly. “I heard it was a total upgrade from the old one and is at least twice the size.”
“But damn, that’s a long line,” Kevin groaned. “It’d be so awesome to go in there, though.”
At that moment a group of people were let into the gate as another group exited the fun house. Seeing the line had shortened a bit, Henry saw their chance to start lining up now rather than later.
“C’mon, let’s get in line now before it gets even longer. If there’s one thing I want to leave here with, it’s that I got to go in there,” Henry said, his energy up high as his feet bounced. Kevin had to smile and appreciate his friend’s enthusiasm, and so he quickly led the two of them to the end of the line. Within five minutes, the line doubled behind them. The heat was starting to feel oppressive as the crowded bodies started getting tighter and tighter.
“Shit, that’s a lot of people!” Kevin observed as he turned his head to look behind him.
“Hey, stay close, Kev,” Henry said, pulling his friend closer by the arm. “Wouldn’t want to lose you in a crowd like this.”
Kevin gave a small smile. “Thanks, Henry,” he said.
It was a long time before the line moved again, and a longer time after that. They both started feeling the burning heat from the sun overhead, especially on their necks. The sky started turning a bright orange. “Damn. Should’ve put on some sunblock,” Kevin remarked.
“Yuck, I hate that shit,” Henry said in disgust.
“Yeah, me too. But the stuff works,” said Kevin.
“Makes me look really white when I put it on, ‘specially on my face. It’s like I got powdered or something,” Henry chuckled.
Kevin grinned. “Remember that time we had to do that stupid drama performance and we had to get our faces powdered in grade 7?”
“Oh yeah! Shit I looked god awful!” Henry laughed.
“And you had to put freaky black lip stick on?” Kevin snickered.
“Yeah, but at least I didn’t look half as bad as Ben with red lips and blush. He looked like a sweating pig. And he was sweating and having trouble breathing!”
“Aw man, don’t go making fun of him,” Kevin said.
“But man, it’s true! Hey, you were the lucky one out of the rest of us. You actually looked good with that fancy suit on.”
“Nah! I think I looked awkward, like a fucking genie or something. More awkward than I already was.”
“Pssh! You looked good. You did. Take it from a guy who knows.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I am right.”
Kevin groaned, but then started grinning as his friend cracked up. “Well, speaking of pig, wanna put yours in my backpack? It’ll keep you from losing it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Henry said. After he did that, they took out the water bottles and had a few gulps to rehydrate themselves. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
The line slowly crawled forward once again. They were almost at the entrance, and they would be among the next group to be let in.
“Oh jeez,” Kevin said, fanning himself with the front of his shirt, “I’m going to be sweating buckets if they don’t let us in soon.”
“We’re almost there. Besides, there’s no betting that it’ll be any cooler on the inside.”
“Yeah, but it’ll give us some shade at least. And hopefully we wouldn’t be squished as we practically are right now in this line,” Kevin said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
“It’s getting really hot right now.”
“We should’ve put on some sunblock, dammit.”
“Yeah, well a little sunburn isn’t that bad.”
“Hah, look who’s talking,” Kevin smirked as he recalled a memory. “You got a pretty bad sunburn on your neck that one time and you were bitching about it for a week, remember?”
“Can’t forget it. I got you into trouble that day in class. Our doofus teacher put you into detention. Least I could do was wait outside below the window ‘til you got out. I even offered to switch places or wait inside for you but he wouldn’t let that happen. Still don’t know why that bastard kept you in so long, ‘cause I got a damn awful sunburn just waiting outside feeling like shit,” Henry said, briefly recounting the story.
“Yeah, I was so mad at you,” Kevin muttered almost to himself, being reminded of that day.
“I know, I fucked up bad,” Henry said.
“Yeah, but you fucked up even more the next day during lunch break outside. I still can’t believe you did that!” Kevin couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.
“So what? Something’s bound to happen when you’re taking your sweet time walking by the soccer field. Just sayin’,” Henry grinned.
“You aimed it at Mr. Ham, everyone saw,” Kevin laughed.
“Well, he deserved it! At least then you weren’t mad at me anymore,” Henry smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah…” Kevin sighed. He suddenly grew quiet, appearing deep in thought as a hint of a frown settled in.
“So…” Henry said slowly, sensing his friend had something on his mind.
“So…” Kevin repeated, feeling particularly uneasy.
“Something on your mind?”
“Mmm…” Kevin looked at him, his expression solemn. “Henry…why did you bring me here? Why did you come for me, by my place?”
Henry gave Kevin a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“You know…” Kevin shrugged. “I thought you’d be spending the day with ‘your friends’.” The way he said ‘your friends’ made it very clear how he felt about them. “I was kinda surprised seeing them here with you not knowing or hanging out with them or anything.”
Henry looked sad, and hurt even, when he heard that. “Hey, you’re my friend too, Kev. I just wanted to hang out with you. I can’t do that anymore?”
Kevin shook his head. “It’s not like that. You’ve just stopped hanging around or noticing me for the past few months and now suddenly you decide to come back.”
Henry was not sure how to say what needed to be said, “Kevin…I tried. But you were just…not being yourself,” he sighed. “I didn’t get it. You weren’t really there anymore. You didn’t really want to hang out, either. You seemed upset, and whenever I came by you didn’t want to say anything.”
“I was…I was pissed. You suddenly got yourself a bunch of new friends and I felt like you left me for them,” Kevin said, shaking his head. “It also felt like they just came in and stole you away or something. It wasn’t fair.”
“Shit, Kev,” Henry said with realization, wiping the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand as he looked at Kevin. “I had no idea. I tried for the both of us to join in. I guess I should’ve realized then that you didn’t quite like them too much.”
“You’re right. I didn’t; still don’t.”
“Well…I guess they don’t really matter anymore ‘cause–”
Henry was cut off as the line started moving again. They slowly made their way through the gate before having it closed behind them by one of the men in charge. The few people in front of them quickly made their way up the ramp into the entrance, and they followed suit, picking up their walking speed.
“Kev…I never left you for them. I never meant for things to turn out that way either…I just…well, I fucked up. I’m trying to undo some of that. C’mon, let’s have some fun. I have a feeling this is going to be awesome.”
Kevin pouted, his eyes looking somewhere else. He wanted some kind of an apology, and he felt he was right for showing that he was still a little upset.
“Kevin…Kev, I’m sorry,” Henry responded sadly. “If I had figured it out earlier, none of that would have happened.”
Kevin shrugged, not yet wanting to admit to himself that he felt a bit of satisfaction from hearing that. But he knew it wasn’t fair for him to continue acting the way he was with his friend who he knew was trying to mend things between them. “I guess…I shouldn’t have let it get to me so much that I acted the way I did. I’m sorry, too. There are some things you can’t exactly figure out on your own. I should have just told you instead of acting distant.”
Henry let out a sigh, “No, it’s alright. No more apologies. But now it makes sense. I didn’t know I was making you feel that way, and I wish I could take that back. There’s something else I need to tell you, too, but right now,” he said as they entered the funhouse, “let’s have some fun inside this house.”
The interior was bigger than they had expected, and every section seemed to have a particular colour scheme. The two boys soon found themselves grinning ear to ear as they, along with the rest of the group, listened to a voice over some speakers as they traversed the first room containing various obstacles, including floor tricks with areas tipping up and down, some of which tipped and rocked when you stepped on them. A few air jets were blown, startling and sending a few people screaming, and others laughing, like Henry. One blew and lifted a woman’s skirt up as she screamed, and she tried to push it back down as she hopped away, her face a deep blush of embarrassment. Kevin grinned, and then had a jet of air blow up, disheveling his hair as he stumbled out of the way. Henry laughed at him as he tried with frustration to comb and smooth his hair back into place with his hands. There were a few illusions on the floor, confusing some people into thinking they might step onto a trapdoor.
A walkway led to the next room and Kevin was not the only one who had trouble standing up as the spinning tunnel wall created confusion in his sense of balance. The dark tunnel was lit with various shades of blue. There was laughter and chatter echoing off the walls from the crowd. Henry tripped but caught himself, looking totally goofy in the process as he reflexively let out a shriek, and that sent Kevin trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard.
“Oh, that was too much, I think I’m dying!” Kevin managed through breaths, a hand clutched on his stomach.
“Damn, I can’t even stand up straight here. Shit!” Henry gasped.
Keeping with the tone set up from it, the next few rooms were optical illusions. There was one where individuals appeared tall at one end of the room and shorter at the other end. A large hallway followed after, having checkerboard flooring with clown portraits and disorienting windows placed on the ground, upside down on the walls, or of peculiar sizes, as well as stairs snaking along the walls or going into ceilings. There were doors in out-of-reach places, placed in odd angles, and the walls were painted so as to give off the illusion of depth and create a perception of more rooms. They seemed to be walking up the hallway at an incline, and the hallway seemed to get narrower with every step. Kevin’s jaw dropped in amazement. Henry enthusiastically slung his arm across Kevin’s shoulders and the two chatted away excitedly as they slowly walked onward.
The next were two rooms opposites of each other. The kids made their way to the ball pit, while the rest of the group walked over to the tilted room. There wasn’t a lack of laughs there.
“Oh my gosh, this is sooo weird!” Kevin laughed. 
“Shit, I totally forgot!” Henry said as his fished out a phone from his pocket. “Dad got me this on my birthday. I haven’t tried it out much ‘cause I haven’t had it for long, but let me take a picture of you.”
“No, I’ll look silly!”
“But you’re supposed to. It’s fun!”
“Oh alright, fine,” Kevin said, feeling a little embarrassed. Henry snapped a picture and then decided to get a picture of the two of them together.
“Hey, I’ll join you,” Henry said, “That way we’re both in the picture.”
They stood side by side, and Henry put on a goofy face. Kevin stuck his tongue out as Henry snapped a picture of the two of them standing on a tilt. One of the ladies in the group noticed and she offered to take a picture of them at a distance to get a better image as they stood tilted on a flight of stairs, and they thanked her for it.
“This. Is. Fucking. Awesome!” Kevin said in whispered awe.
They eventually made their way forward and there were a few attendants ahead by a steep set of slides for safety reasons. There were stairs if you wanted to opt out and walk down to the next floor, but most people took the slides, yelling and hooting as they descended. They were not your ordinary playground slides however, thanks to their steepness and odd curves.
“Come on, Kev!” Henry said, hopping on his feet as he got into one of the slides. Kevin was not far behind him.
When they got to the bottom, they came to a short room lit with a pink glow that was a large revolving barrel lying in the horizontal position. A few people fell as they unsuccessfully tried to maintain their balance as they walked through it. A banner was posted on top of the entrance which read, “Barrel of Love”. Quite appropriately, Kevin thought, as he saw quite a few couples falling on top of each other. There was also the option of a safer route around the barrel, though most people tried walking through the barrel. Kevin and Henry stayed back just a bit to keep it from being too crowded, and after a short moment they were the last to walk through.
“I’ll bet I can beat you crossing this without falling,” Kevin grinned.
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you,” Henry said, his eyes wide as he cautiously walked the first few steps.
“Chicken!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
Henry jabbed his elbow into his friend, and Kevin responded in kind. They wobbled back and forth trying to stay upright, but it wasn’t long before Kevin yelled out as he lost his balance. He reached out to hold onto something for support, and ended up pulling Henry down on top of him.
“Oof!”
“Hahaha!” Henry laughed. “See, I told you so,” he said, rolling off of Kevin.
“Dammit!” Kevin said.
The two boys were on their backs in the slowly rotating barrel. It would take them up the side as it spun, and when they were high enough up the side, gravity would cause them to slide back down. They found it easy to simply allow that to happen as they continued talking to each other.
“Well…looks like you lost the bet. You owe me something.” Henry was leering at Kevin.
“Um…what do I owe you?”
“Um…” Henry shifted his weight and had his arms planted beside Kevin.
“Um?” Kevin’s breath quickly slowed as he looked up at Henry.
“Uh…” Henry’s mind blanked.
They looked quietly at each other for just a few seconds, then decided it was time to leave the barrel. Henry shifted onto his feet and offered his hand. Kevin took it and pulled himself up.
“Are you okay?” Henry asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Kevin responded.
“Okay.” Henry’s face calmed some. “Did I hurt you anywhere?”
“No.” Kevin suddenly felt very quiet. “No, you didn’t.”
“Okay.” Henry kept his eyes on his friend. “Cool. Let’s catch up, keep going forward.”
“Yeah. Right,” Kevin nodded. Henry offered a little smile and the two of them cautiously made their way out of the room.
Bright light hit them in the following room, as well as distorted images of themselves. The walls were lined with distorting mirrors. Kevin stopped to look at a skinny and very tall version of himself for a moment, and then suddenly a reflection of a huge grotesque clown face jumped up right beside him.
“Boo!”
“Ahh! What the?” Kevin jumped, startled. Henry bent over with laughter before pulling the mask off.
“That was perfect! Oh my gosh if you could see yourself jump like that!”
“Shit, Henry! And where the hell did you get that?” Kevin exclaimed, trying to slow his heartbeat.
“Look here,” Henry said, walking over to a coat rack of assorted hats, masks, scarves, and other flamboyant items to wear. “Isn’t it neat?”
“Yeah, I guess. And fuck you for scaring me like that,” Kevin said, a cross look on his face but with a betraying smile.
“Aw, c’mon, lighten up, Kev! Here.” Henry picked a large nose attached with a pair of glasses and moustache. “Put this one on.”
“No way,” Kevin shook his head.
“Oh c’mon, you’ll look great.”
“Nooo, Henry.”
“C’mon, for me. You owe me.”
“Ugh!” Kevin groaned. “Fine, fine, I will,” Kevin took it and put it on.
“Now step right by this mirror here,” Henry said, directing his friend. Kevin stepped forward and looked at himself. In the mirror, his body was small, but his head was huge.
“Haha, very funny,” Kevin said sarcastically. Henry popped up behind him and threw a wig of blue curly hair onto Kevin’s head and a pink furry scarf over his neck.
“There we go!” Henry nodded with approval. He quickly snapped a picture before Kevin pulled it off with embarrassment.
“Man, that just makes me look duuumb!” Kevin whined. Henry giggled at his friend’s reaction.
“C’mon Henry,” Kevin said as he walked onward after hanging the assorted items back where they belonged.
“I’m right behind ya,” Henry said as he jogged to catch up.
After a bit of walking and oogling at their reflections, they found the group they’d been with and entered the mirror maze. It was fun and confusing with the added but deceptive depth perception. There appeared to be numerous false hallways that seemed to endlessly go on and on. They had to find the way out of the room. A few people bumped into the mirrors, and there were sections where the mirrors gave inverted images. As they were trying to find their way out, Kevin noticed that Henry’s reflection on the mirrors disappeared.
“Henry? Hey, where are you?” he called out. Kevin started looking around but Henry seemed to be gone. He chose a direction and started walking before he noticed a flash of Henry across the mirrors.
“Think you can catch me?” Henry called out.
“Hell yeah!” Kevin grinned ear to ear. He took a left turn and saw nothing but his own reflection, then he went back and took the other turn and saw Henry looking at him, but he wasn’t in the room.
“Hey, what the?” Kevin smiled, delightedly confused as he raced towards it and saw another corner. Henry’s reflection laughed and then dashed off as Kevin turned down the hallway.
“Where are you at now, Henry?” he said as he dashed around. The same reflection came up again and this time Kevin was fast enough to race down to where he predicted Henry to be. He reached out and grabbed his friend’s arm.
“There, I gotcha!” Kevin panted, smiling to himself.
“Aw man, you’re too good at this. But that was fun,” Henry laughed. Kevin tugged on Henry’s arm and they smiled at each other before trying to find the exit of the mirror maze into whatever else awaited them.
 
----oooOOOooo----

“Hey boy, what do you think I should wear today?” I said softly as I scratched my dog, Ace, behind the ear while looking at the rather plain clothes I had tossed onto my bed. My dad and I got him a few years ago on my birthday when he was still a little puppy. We kind of grew up together from the time I got him and, when at home and alone, he was there – someone for me to talk to, and someone for me to remain silent with. A companion and a friend. Perhaps my only friend. And I had needed him most when my Dad passed away two years ago.

One of my favourite memories had been captured in a picture that I had framed and put on my desk. Mom took it when Dad and I had got Ace to stop jumping in the piles of Autumn leaves at the park we drove to during Thanksgiving morning some years ago. It was me and Dad, his arm slung over my shoulder as I held onto Ace when he had been a little smaller. He was a Great Dane mix, and black all over. Mom never did really like him. She tolerated him, but most days she just ignored him, going about with her business as if he wasn’t there. I’m not sure Ace liked her very much either.

After Dad passed away, she wanted us to get rid of him. There was no way that was happening. I wouldn’t lose him. We had a nasty argument and I was in tears. She wasn’t going to spend a dime on him, so I resolved to find myself a job to get a bit of money.

We lived outside the city in a small town. She became a single mom with a kid to look after, and I was a kid looking after the dog, though most days I felt like it was Ace who looked after me. She didn’t make much, and soon we found ourselves living from paycheck to paycheck. I started working at a used book store run by a very quiet but pleasant old man. His name was Mr. Jefferson. And it wasn’t just an old and used bookstore. There was also a section of antiques. It was a rather large place, and it was cluttered when I first started working there. To my surprise, we had a lot of customers most days. We rarely spoke other than when I had to ask him something, although on some days when fewer customers than usual came, he found himself talking to me, picking up a book and telling me some of the stories, weighing an item in his hand and telling me what it was as he tried to spin a story about who it once belonged to. I worked a few hours after school, and some more on the weekends.

I later learned that Mr. Jefferson had a grandson a year older than me and a junior who went to my school. He was one of the few boys I had found myself constantly glancing at, knowing that I had to be careful not to get caught. But instinctively I knew he was also the kind of guy I didn’t ever want to mess with. He was a tough guy with a band of other guys consisting of both juniors and seniors just like him, and although they didn’t look like the kind to cause trouble or bully other kids, if you were a quiet and shy nobody like me, you know to stay out of the way of popular kids like him. His name was Cody, and he was one of the more well-known guys on the basketball team. This afternoon at school we were going to have a home game with another school team.

Ace rubbed his paw against my foot and nudged me in the butt, and I laughed a little. “Fine, fine. Must I do everything myself?” I mumbled still feeling slightly groggy. Hey, who could blame me for being sleepy at this ungodly hour in the morning? I hated waking up early in the cold season when it was still dark outside, and being a teenager I was sure I needed about nine to ten hours of sleep every night, at least!

After changing into proper and warm clothing, I made my way into our rather barren kitchen where I met my mom sipping her morning coffee by the table as her eyes slowly skimmed the newspaper.

“Hi Momma,” I said to her as I entered.

“Mmm…” she said in a breathy tone without looking up. With Ace following closely behind me, I put out some breakfast for him. I made myself some toast and when they were ready, I spread a little jam on them from the small plastic packets my mom brought home from her job at the diner in the neighbourhood. Ace sat down and ate his food by my feet as I bit through mine with a glass of milk on the side.

“I can’t believe what I’m reading these days. All of these homosexuals spreading their influences over this country. For all we know, there are gays lurking in the government, bribing and coercing, somehow getting along with the politicians. They’re getting married from state to state, with their speeches and indecent parades claiming for ‘marriage equality’. What garbage,” she said, putting as much loathe and disgust into that last word. Garbage.

I hated it whenever she talked like that. I had started realizing that I was different from all of the other boys at my school, and it was confusing to me. I didn’t know why I had these feelings towards other boys. I didn’t know anyone in my school that was like me. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, to share this secret with. Some days I felt so alone, so confused, so scared. Whenever she spoke about ‘those’ kinds of people to me, all I felt were fear, sadness, and hurt. I didn’t know if what I was feeling now would continue on for the rest of my life, if I was going to be this way forever. I didn’t know what these feelings meant. But I did know that I was unhappy with my situation and that I had to keep it a secret.

“And just because it’s Valentine’s Day today, they think they can include themselves in it? Only real love exists between a man and a woman. I don’t want or need to see a picture of two men or two women together. It’s indecent and disgusting. All of this equality garbage is going too far.

“And then there’s this!” she hissed as she continued skimming across the paper. “They’ve even got the power to go into schools and pervert children! Does your school have this group? The gay-straight-alliance?” she flicked her eyes at me, demanding an answer.

My heart pounded in my chest. I blinked several times, hesitating, not knowing how to respond. I knew there was one in my school, but that no one was a part of it. It was a dying group, and the only one or two kids I ever saw in it I knew for certain were straight. I had sneaked a few peeks into the classroom that held the meetings a few times, but I had never dared to step foot in one. It would be a dead give-away, even if there were only a few people in the room. But they were kids my age, and in my school; kids who see me in the hallways and knew who I was. And in high school, rumours traveled like wild fire.

“Wha…what?” I stuttered, appearing flustered. I try to zone out whenever she speaks to me about these things, retreating into my head, trying to block out her voice. But it isn’t good to live inside your head. It makes you feel even more isolated and withdrawn, shutting everyone else out and locking yourself in. The days drag slowly and the nights crawl by with loneliness.

“Does that school you go to have this…this GSA group?” she said in a lower voice, sounding slightly annoyed at what appeared to be my inattentiveness.

“Uh…yeah…yes we do…”

“We? You’re not a part of it, are you?”

“Nuh-no! No, why would I be?”

“Hmm…” she narrowed her eyes at me and then slowly leaned back. “Have any of those kids tried to get you to join? Have they tried to talk to you?”

“No. Mom…Momma, can we please not talk about this?”

“Those people are sick. I want you to stay away from them.”

“Momma, please!” I said, louder than I had intended. She was annoying and hurting me, and I guess my tone of voice caught her attention.

She stopped abruptly and her nostrils thinned as she breathed in deeply, her eyes piercing into my soul, trying to read my mind. “Ryan…what I say bothers you. Why?” she said suspiciously, her voice soft and quiet, yet eerie and almost threatening, testing me.

“It’s nothing Momma…” I said nervously, feeling cornered. I felt Ace move to sit up straight, his body stiff and ears perked.

“Then why did you tell me to stop. What I said bothers you. Why?” She paused, waiting for me to respond. I didn’t. “You need to tell me. I have a right to know. I’m your mother,” she continued, her voice still of the same foreboding quality, but slowly hardening, becoming more commanding.

“I just don’t like talking about this stuff,” I said irritably as I fumbled with the last bit of the jam sandwich, trying to shove it down and feeling like my mouth and throat had turned into the desert. I quickly got up, put my plate in the sink and made my way out of the kitchen. I wanted her to just stop. I needed to get away.

“Ryan, where are you going?” she stood up, her voice hardening.

“I have to get to school.”

“The bus isn’t arriving until fifteen more minutes. What’s the hurry?” She started following me out of the kitchen. “You have to wait for it anyway. You’re just trying to avoid me. What are you trying to hide from me?”

I was starting to feel exasperated. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you! It’s nothing,” I grumbled with frustration.

“Young man, you do not speak to me in that tone of voice! You are lying to me,” she grabbed my arm, pulling me back to turn and face her. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting very strange for quite some time now, and I’m losing my patience. At first I thought it was because of him passing away, but I’m not so sure anymore. I don’t like it when you hide things from me. I’m your mother, you will listen to me, and you will answer me,” she said through clenched teeth, menacingly. I have never seen her have an outburst before, as her approach is more cold, calm, and threatening, with just the hint of something dangerous bubbling beneath the surface.

“Mom, I’m not hiding anything! Stop it, you’re hurting me!” I winced as she tightened her grip, digging her fingers in. I was panicking now and I started to regret having said or done what I did. I should’ve just stayed there and sat listening to her impersonally rather than appearing upset and unsettled. It’s not like voicing my opinion or showing my defiance could make a change, anyway. At least not one in my favour. But I was getting really tired of hearing her talk like that all the time. I was tired of feeling hurt and having people like me, with my feelings, spat on. I was tired of the hate.

I pulled my arm from her grasp when Ace entered the room and started barking and growling. She tried to hush him, shooing him away before she turned back to me. But he wouldn’t stop. “Ryan, I am not done with you! We are not finished!” She spoke in a louder tone, her face twitching to keep herself from shouting.

I ignored her statements as I snatched my knapsack and put on my jacket at the front door. I was frustrated, I was angry, and I tried to let those emotions take center stage by focussing on them so I wouldn’t be scared and tired.

When I stepped outside of my house, I noticed that the ground was wet from last night’s cold rainfall and a distance on the road ahead of me, to the left I spotted a car that had swerved and collided into a lamp post. The police were there and the people were cleaning up the scene. A tow truck was attached onto the car, and as they slowly cleared the area and started going on their way, I spotted the distinct yellow school bus coming towards me.

I stepped back as it came to a stop and opened the doors to let me on, and as I said good morning to the bus driver, taking the steps up one by one, I looked down the small aisle and took my usual seat in the middle by the window. I was always the first to get on in the mornings, and the last to get off in the afternoons.



----oooOOOooo----



            “Are you sure you don’t want to? C’mon Ryan, just one kiss on the cheek and you’ve got your free chocolate,” a girl in my history class, Tracy, whined at me. She had gone around asking a bunch of the guys to give her kisses on the cheek, and she was now on her second bag of chocolates. She was a pretty girl, and she was known around the school because her brother was both the president of the student council and the captain of our school’s senior boys’ basketball team.

            “Uh…haha! I’m…I’m good thanks,” I said sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at being asked to kiss another girl on the cheek. First of all, I wasn’t interested in girls, and second of all…can you imagine? Me? Kissing another…person?! I’m too shy for that.

            Tracy let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay,” she said, but then smiled to let me know it really was just fun and games. “But I’ll give you a chocolate just ‘cause you look so cute blushing.”

“What? No! I’m not blushing!” I exclaimed in horror, and to my horror, I noticed my cheeks starting to get hot. Some of the kids around me snickered.

“Yes you are!” she said teasingly as she plopped a heart shaped chocolate in front of me on my desk before skipping off to find another boy to give away her chocolates to. Or rather, to get kisses from.

“Ms. Tracy Morgan,” our history teacher, Mr. McMillan started with feigned exasperation. He had a yellow-brown blazer on and greying hair, but he was well and alive, and among one of the ‘veteran’ teachers, having taught here for decades and had always been a favourite among both students and teachers. “If you continue chasing boys like this all day, you’ll be losing more than just chocolates. I am currently marking your tests, remember?” he didn’t hesitate to remind her and the class. “Now maybe if you could find your seat we could get started with our class? I have a few things to go over before we all head down to the library for you guys to find books and use the computers for your essay due in three weeks’ time.”

We took out our books and pens, settling ourselves into our seats. Mr. McMillan started handing out sheets to our class, and when he got back to the front of the room and prepared to speak, there was a knock on the door and a group of kids peeked in.

“Or not…” he let a puff of air out, letting his lips flap together noisily as his pupils slid to the corner of his eyes lazily. “Come one in…” he said with a bored drawl.

“Hey Sir!” the group of three kids – two girls and one boy – slowly walked in with sheepish smiles, knowing they were interrupting a class.

“Uh-huh, get on with it,” he said with mock boredom, pushing his glasses up. But you could tell that his eyes were smiling and he was trying to hold back the one that wanted to form on his lips. He was always a nice teacher and a funny guy. I liked him. Heck, everybody liked him.

“Sorry Sir,” one of the girls said with a goofy grin on her face.

I sat there quietly as they announced that they were here to give out Valentine candy-grams – Hershey’s Kisses and heart shaped chocolates that had a little message from the person who had sent it. Some were from secret admirers, but most were from friends.

As they started, a fourth boy entered the classroom, and he was welcomed with an eruption of delighted squeals from the girls and cheers from the boys. He had in one hand a small bouquet of red roses, many four or five, and in the crook of the other arm he held a giant teddy bear. With a slightly flushed face and a crooked smile he walked his way over to a girl at the far end of the room. And then he asked her, “Will you come with me to the dance?”

Of course, she was blushing and embarrassed, and of course, she said yes. And of course the class whooped and cheered as she stood up to hug him and receive his gifts.

Once all of the commotion was over, the three kids at the front of the class continued to pass out the candy-grams. A lot more people ended up getting them than I had thought, though I just sort of attributed it to friends having fun with each other. That or they wanted to help out with the fundraising. Even our teacher got a few.

I sort of aimlessly flipped through my books and class notes, not really having much go through my mind.

Then, one of the girls walked by my desk and put down a candy-gram in front of me. I straightened up and looked at her curiously. She smiled and shrugged one of her shoulders. “I think it’s someone special,” she said.

I looked at it, and then looked at everyone else’s, and I noticed that mine was different. Whereas everyone who had gotten one had a chocolate or two attached to a little slip of paper with some writing, mine had about four or five chocolates tied up inside a red net that was attached by a ribbon to a single red rose. Also attached to the two items was a Valentine card.

But who? Who would give this to me? Some girl who had been watching me in secret and I didn’t even know? But…I’m barely noticed. By anyone. How could this be? Maybe it was a mistake. What if it was a boy? No, that’s way too hopeful. That’s wishful thinking. Yet I started to realize that my heart was beating faster and harder. It had to be a secret admirer or something, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten the rose and the extra batch of chocolates. Maybe this was a mistake.

I tried to rack my brain to come up with a list of possible people who would give me something like this. I looked at the bottom of the card before opening it, and right there, written in someone’s handwriting that I didn’t recognize, was my name and home form.

This was meant for me. For me!

Okay, okay, I needed to calm down. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of it. It’s just silly high school stuff, right? But…it’s high school! Not like how it was back in the 3rd grade in Mrs. Marshall’s class, where it was all about getting as many cool cards and chocolates as possible. In high school – well, also in middle school too – this stuff starts getting…important! It’s…it’s a big deal. Or is it? No, it is, and if it’s some girl, then I…I don’t know what to do! How am I going to get out of this if she wants to, you know, go steady with me or something? Uh-oh, that would not be good.

But here I am, sitting here, getting all worked up with possibilities. Not reality. I hadn’t even opened the card yet, for the love of Pete!

I mentally slapped my forehead and slowly started to tear the heart shaped sticker keeping the edges of the card stuck together. When it was finally open, I read it through quickly. Way too quick. I slowly down and I read it again, and the slower I read, the faster and harder my heart pounded. I felt out of breath. I read it and then looked at the front to see my name. This really wasn’t a mistake. This was meant for me. And it read:



Happy Valentine’s Day Ryan!



Will you be mine, and will you go to the dance with me?



-Cody Jefferson



            I was dumbfounded.

There were only two possible explanations. The first was that he somehow knew and meant what he wrote. That must mean that I hadn’t been careful, and that I had somehow given myself away, looked at him for too long too many times. He was a year older than me, so he wasn’t in any of my classes. But I did find my eyes gravitate to him all the time whenever he was around me, whether it be in the halls or in the cafeteria. And thinking back, I did notice that he had caught me on multiple occasions. All of which I’d dart my eyes away as fast as I could, gulping and looking flustered as I mentally berated myself for being so careless.

            But a few days ago during one of their practices in the afternoons at lunch hour, I found myself on the balcony that was the upper running track among a mass of other students watching the basketball practice. I sometimes looked at the other boys, but I was most entranced by Cody. They were the only times I ever got to see his skin. He was in basketball uniform, an athletic tank top and shorts. The colours were white and red. But that didn’t matter. What got my heart pumping more than usual was that I got to see his skin; his strong, sinewy arms gleaming with sweat; his slender calves defined from running. I would feel myself going weak whenever he moved in such a way that his tank top would reveal a little bit of the part between his underarm and his chest, that bit a little below the shoulder; the way he ran and moved on the shiny wooden gym floor.

            And after the coach had blown the whistle, after the guys slowed to a walk, clapping backs and shaking hands; after the crowds from the bleachers and the upper running track had calmed down from their cheering and started dissipating, leaving the area, I found Cody had looked up and caught me, once again. I looked away, my eyes wandering around the spacious athletic arena, moving from player to player. But he didn’t waver, didn’t take his eyes off of me. I looked back at him.

            The look in his eyes…it wasn’t a threat, a challenge. Instead, to my astonishment, as he huffed and puffed from the demands of the activity, he gave me a small smile. Just a small one. And then he waved. And I waved back, my hand feeling like it didn’t belong to me, surprised that I even managed to do it. But then his boys surrounded him, put their arms around him, shaking his hand. One of the guys, the captain of the team, looked up and saw me. He clapped Cody on the back to get his attention and nodded up at me. I panicked and had turned away.

I went home so happy that day, with a skip in my feet. I was floating.

            And then the second explanation was that this was all a joke, or worse some sort of prank to fool and hurt me, to make fun of me. But still…

            …I was dumbfounded. And I felt more alive, happy, and terrified then I ever had.



----oooOOOooo----



            Because of the fact that we had a home game today – a basketball game against another school team in the afternoon – they decided that if everyone bought a ticket, the afternoon classes would all be cancelled and that almost everyone in our school would show up to support our team. Of course, there was also the issue that today was Valentine ’s Day and that there was a dance that had to happen, so it was to happen after the game was over.

            It was the beginning of lunch hour and I was looking for a few books to use for my history essay. I had bought a ticket to the game but wasn’t planning on staying. Instead, as soon as I had grabbed my books I planned to go home. There was no way I could find Cody to know if this was all real. In fact, it still didn’t feel real to me. It was too good, too good to be true. He was probably getting ready with his teammates for the game, and I didn’t think it would be a good idea to go anywhere near the gym or locker room just to find him. I resolved to go home and think about this. I needed to think through what I was going to do.

After finding about three books that proved promising, I started making my way over to the school librarian’s desk. As soon as I had laid my books down, the door opened and Cody stepped in. He looked around and when he saw me, his eyes lit up and a broad, elated smile emerged.

“Hey Ryan!” he said as he jogged his way over to me.

“Not too loud Mr. Jefferson,” the lady behind the counter said.

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered back to her, looking kind of goofy.

“Um, h-hi Cody,” I managed to stutter. It was really him, standing right before me. Of course I was going to stutter!

“Hey Ryan,” he said again, his smile looking a little shyer now. “Did you get my, uhh, the thing I sent you, the card?” he said nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“Y-yeah, yeah I did,” I replied, my heart rate spiking once again.

“Could I, uh, maybe talk to you? Are you free right now? Are you busy?”

“N-no. I mean, y-yeah, sure. We…we can maybe move down to the bookshelves or…or the tables at the, um, the far end.”

“Yeah, yeah that’d be great,” he said. He started leading the way to the bookshelves, and soon we walked deep into the back where it was secluded.

I nervously shifted my feet as I chewed on my lip, my eyes moving between his face and back down. He looked kinda nervous too.

He reached out to gently touch my hand, to reassure me. I think that was all I needed to know that this wasn’t a joke, because I had never been more excited. I was shaking all over. And the comforting thing was he was shaking too.

“So…will you go to the dance with me?” he asked, his voice shaking like he was almost scared. He must have been terrified.

“Yes!” I gasped, my throat hoarse and dry.

“Okay. That’s…that’s really great!” he said, his face glowing now.

“Oh, but…” I started, having suddenly realized that I didn’t know how I was going to get from home to school, not unless I walked all the way here, which would take a while. It would be a really long walk, I knew that. I knew there was no way my mom would agree to driving me here. She would demand to know everything, why I was going, what I’ll be doing, and a million other questions.

“But?” he asked, his face suddenly went back to looking scared and nervous.

“I…I’m not sure how I can get back to school. I mean, I could walk...”

“Do you live kinda far?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, that’s okay,” a look of relief went over him. He thought I was going to say something bad! “I’ll give you a ride here and back. Where’s your place?”

I gave him my address and directions, and he was familiar with the area. After that, he said he had to go and get ready for the game. I wished him good luck and he gave me his thanks.

“How did you find me here?” I asked.

“Tracy,” he said. “a sister of one of my friends. Well, alright, I’ll see you this afternoon? At around six?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah that’d be great,” I smiled.

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he said, looking all shy. I sort of giggled, and he sort of skipped out of the library.

“No running, Mr. Jefferson!” the librarian said as he passed by her. I laughed softly, my body still quivering with excitement.

“Sorry Mrs. Smith!” he whispered back.

“C’mon Ace, now I really need your help to choose what I should wear,” I lamented as I stood in front of the long mirror in my bedroom holding a pair of khaki pants and a white collared shirt in front of me. Ace was happy to see me, and he was wagging his tail and panting, looking me over.

            “What do you think boy? Do you think he’s gonna like it? I still can’t believe it. Cody, of all people…he asked me to the dance, to be his Valentine. But…wait, what? Oh no…no no no,” I said, my mood suddenly dropping down into the pit of my stomach. A sudden realization had just hit me, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t realized it sooner.

            I would be outing myself.

            With the clothes in my hands I sat myself slowly on my bed and tried to think this through. I didn’t know how I felt about it. I couldn’t say I knew of any bullying of gay kids in my school, but that’s because there really weren’t any, or rather, there wasn’t anything that gave them away, as I now realized. There wasn’t anything you could really pin on Cody, for example. Sometimes kids used homophobic slurs, but that wasn’t the norm, not at this school. I guess that was a good thing. I guess I was…lucky. I’d heard so many stories of kids getting bullied and harassed verbally and physically. It really was awful. I guess I’m pretty lucky I ended up choosing this school, even though it was farther away than I would have liked. But even though I wasn’t picked on, I was lonely, and had been for a long time now.

            But maybe today…tonight, things will change. Maybe…maybe this is all real. Maybe this wasn’t wishful thinking. Maybe things are starting to look up.

            Cody did ask if I wanted to go with him. But maybe I shouldn’t have been so excited; maybe I should have thought it through, to see if I was really ready, ready to let other people know. It was still a scary thing to acknowledge and accept to myself, let alone the entire school.

            Maybe…maybe it won’t be all romantic and lovey dovey. Maybe it’ll just appear to be two guys hanging out. I really didn’t know, but I had already given my word and…sigh…I really did want to go with him. It’s now or never.

            Ace gave me a little yelp and put his two front paws on my knees. I looked down and smiled at him.

            “Well, it’s now or never, I guess.” I stood up again and looked in the mirror. God, I was nervous. I let out a shaky breath and looked at myself and the clothes I held out in front of me. Jeez, it’s not like I’m going to Prom or anything. I don’t need to look all formal or anything. Do I? I put the clothes down and opened my closet to look through my clothing. No, I didn’t have much else to wear, at least, not much else that was nice to wear to a dance or anything. Eventually I settled with a very simple attire of black pants and a white dress shirt. I then made sure I looked decent in the bathroom mirror, and then headed downstairs.

            While waiting for Cody to come by, I prepared Ace’s meal. Since this was last minute, there had been no way for me to contact my mom and tell her, or perhaps ask her. I was thinking of writing a note to leave on the kitchen table, but before I had the chance to, I heard the keys and the click at the lock, and the front door was open.

            “Hi Momma,” I said, standing up from petting Ace and scratching him behind the ear. She wore a yellow prim dress that came down to her knees. Her brown hair looked dry, thin, and frail, and her face was lined and tired with a long day’s worth of work and dealing with petty customers at the diner.

            “Ryan,” she started, but stopped in surprise, giving me a careful look over. “Where do you think you’re going, dressed up like that?” she said suspiciously, taking slow steps towards me. I guess I didn’t have the option of asking her if I could go to the dance with another boy. And a very handsome boy too. A boy who appears to like me very much.

            “I…” I straightened up and forced a smile. “I’m going to the school dance,” I said as calm and pleasant as I could. I tried to make it sound simple. I tried to make her believe it, and I tried to make myself believe it.

            “A school dance? Just like that? Suddenly you can just…‘decide’ you can leave the house without letting me know beforehand. And a dance of all things, too.” She was clearly not happy.

            “Momma, I…I would have told you sooner, but…some of my friends wanted me to come, and I said I would.” I knew it wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was close to it. I didn’t like being dishonest, and it wasn’t helping that she was asking me questions and eyeing me that way, challenging me. I was already feeling guilty. It wasn’t a good feeling.

            She nodded her head with a protruding chin. “Ah. So you just…just said yes, right? How many kids? And what kind of dance is this?” she said, continuing her walk towards me. She let her handbag slide from her shoulder, and it landed with a thud against the floor. I instinctively took a step back.

            “J-just, you know, just friends from school,” I said nervously, not knowing how to get around this situation.

            She stopped. “This is a dance for Valentine’s day, isn’t it?”

            “Uh, yeah…?” I said, dragging my voice to make it sound like a question to her, a question of ‘And so your point is?’

            “Oh? You make it sound so…” she dragged the word as she appeared to mull over the next word, “simple.” Raising one corner of her lips, she gave a half smile. “And exactly who–”

            That was when the doorbell rang, and my heart stopped. I grew pale. Oh no…it’s Cody. Not now. She too stopped, and she flicked her head toward the front door.

            “And who might that be?” she said, more so to scare me than anything else. She started walking towards it and panicking, I tried to run past her.

            “Momma, it’s just my friend! Stop it! Let me answer the door!” I cried, my eyes wide with fear. I couldn’t let her see Cody. It would ruin everything.

            “Oh? So it’s just a friend, now? Why can’t I see who it is?” she shot back, her voice rising with every word now. She put her arm between us in an attempt to push me back, and I grabbed onto it and pushed it away from me so I could reach the door first.

            “Ryan, just what are you hiding from me?! Who are you hiding from me?!”

            “Why are you so–so concerned? I said it’s just a friend!”

            “But I don’t know what kind of friend it is!”

            By now she had reached the front door. She peeked through the glass behind the little curtain. I was yanking on her arm, but was now mortified. She turned around and forcefully pulled her arm back. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, and her lower lip quivered.

            She looked straight at me with an expression of horror and defeat. I didn’t get the chance to see Cody out there, but she had, and I wasn’t sure I knew what she saw. But I felt it was over now. Now she knew, and she wouldn’t let me go. How was I supposed to fight back against her? Why was she so paranoid? What was it that made her so suspicious and, in a suffocating way, protective? Why can’t I go? Why can’t I be happy? Why won’t she let me be me?

            Then, a look of determination came over her, and she steeled herself in between me and the door.

            “Ryan…” she began softly, “go back to your room and change out of those clothes. I want you to sit in your room and think about what you did wrong, and then you will come down and help me with dinner.”

            I shook my head, my voice cracking, feeling heavy and thick. “No mom.” I shook my head adamantly, emphasizing my decision and that she couldn’t change it. I was going to state it clearly without hiding anything, and there was no going back. It was for her to hear as much as it was for me. “I won’t. I’m going with Cody to the dance. He’s a good boy, and he’ll bring me home after. I’ll come back home by nine.”

            She blinked several times in astonishment at my defiance. “So. He has a name,” she said curtly, approaching me dangerously. The doorbell rang again, and I heard Ace’s low growl as he came from the side toward my mom. She ignored him.

            “He’s waiting for me, and I’m going to go with him,” I said with finality, trying to remain calm as my voice strained from buckling under my control. I proceeded to walk past her.

            “You are going nowhere, young man!” she hissed coldly as her arm shot out, snatching onto my arm. I tugged against it, hard, and when she turned to fully face me, with me now at the door and her behind me, Ace moved to bite and pull on the bottom of her dress. She yelped and tried to hit him, but he moved before she could. She stumbled and landed on the floor, quickly trying to scamper back up. Ace turned back and gave me an encouraging yelp before facing her again, baring his teeth. She looked back and forth between me and him, her face pale and almost desperate. I felt awful, like I had let her down, like I had hurt her. Humiliated her.

            “You can still turn back, Ryan,” she said, sounding as if she was giving me one more chance. She clenched her hands into her dress. I looked at her, a sad expression on my face. I took a breath, made my way to the door, and stepped out.



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