Circulatim: Book Three - The Circle Cubed

By Ray Smith

As life seems to settle into a new normal, Alex begins to relax.
Perhaps too soon.
The entire school knows he's gay, and suspect all of his friends are as well. That weighs heavily on him. He'd come out to his friends, and the Circle members had already accepted it. He'd tried a relationship with is second-best friend, but it hadn't worked out, and now they were back to being friends.
He was now part of the best band in school, and accepted by the band members. And they were now part of the Circle as well. And the incredibly attractive David was becoming a major distraction.
Now, David and the band guys pressure Alex into doing things he's not sure he's ready to do.
And he still has to deal with the arrival of Trey out of his past, and fixing things with him proves to be much more difficult than Alex hoped.
And there are issues at school as well.Threats materialize from the student body, and Alex begins to feel the pressure of being hated and reviled, just as he'd feared.
And yet another shadow from Alex's past arises, bringing more complications.
Life is never simple or easy, but for Alex, it seems life has a special grudge against him, and that death is never far away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ray Smith
• Release date: Aug 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310639531

Ray Smith

Ray was born in rural Indiana. His family moved to suburban Chicago before he started school.He obtained an associate's degree in electronics technology, then moved back to his hometown, where he works as a factory drone and spends his free time writing stories.

Book preview

Prologue

A New Day Dawns

Monday

I was woken up by Johnny Brandmier saying that tickets would go on sale today for the Kilroy Was Here concert at the Chicago Auditorium next month, and that the new Styx album was looking to be less successful than expected, with only Mister Roboto and Don't Let It End making it onto the charts. The coincidence of the Styx announcement at the exact time my alarm went off was easily acceptable; it was nothing.

How am I gonna get tickets? I wondered, examining the medallion on my key ring. They'll sell out before I can get 'em, if I can even afford 'em. I'll have to wait almost all year for them to come to the Rosemont in September before I'll be able to get one. They'll be cheaper then anyway. But the Rosemont has worse sound, and I'll end up so far away I can't tell who's who on stage. Crap.

On the charts at number eighteen, and still climbing, Jeopardy, by The Greg Kihn Band, on WLUP, ninety-seven point nine, the Loop!

This coincidence was also nothing. My life was rife with coincidences. It only made me grin. I also grinned at having played the song at the student union. That still didn't seem real, not entirely. It still seemed so impossible. It wasn't like me to be in a band, let alone playing at the student union.

I joined the band just two weeks ago, I thought in amazement. Just two weeks, a little more. Insane. So much happened. So much more to do.

I thought of how I had ruined playing Paradise Theater at the student union for myself that first time due to my own stupidity. Not so much real stupidity, but faulty guesses and accepting first-look, worst-case-scenario assumptions as facts. After overhearing Tom and Jeff, I had been miserable and angry while I played the beloved album instead of enjoying it.

Why and how could I have thought Tom and Jeff were trying to stop being friends with me? I thought. What the hell was I thinking? I sure can put the puzzle pieces together wrong, sometimes. Both him and Tom having filthy hands, at the same time. So unlike either of them. I should have seen that, at least. Stupid.

And I should have known better than to think Jeff was trying to stop being friends. Even after we ended what relationship we'd had. If it even was a relationship. It was nice, whatever it was. But we just aren't meant for that. At least not until Jeff knows himself better. Even then, I still don't see us having that kind of thing together. He's right, it's just too weird. Plus, he's just not that hot anymore. Sad, and I wish it wasn't true, but there it is. He's too tall and strong now, too big, too hairy, wants to be so macho. I hope he's macho enough that telling him about the pendant for Valentine's Day won't hurt his feelings.

He said he's going to be in his usual place at the breakfast table this morning. I think it's going to be nice to be back to friends again, and not have all the worries about sex and who knows and how he'll act. I missed just being friends. He ruined his secrecy, though. It was just the band guys, after all. The new Circle members, I corrected myself again.

New Circle members. How cool. The Circle not only didn't die; it got bigger. It does go 'round and 'round after all. You were right, Toby. You magnificent bastard.

And Tom. How could I even think he was trying to stop being friends? What was wrong with me? How stupid could I be? He's done more for me than anyone else. And so much more I don't even know about. I've got to ask how that list of things he's done for me that I don't know about is coming, if he's even actually doing it. He said so last night. He must be. It must be so long! Why did I even think for a second he was trying to get away from me? Stupid!

But, what did he mean about me getting busy with the band and things, and not having time for him and forgetting about him? Does he really think that? That I'd get famous and not think about him anymore? That's not gonna happen!

Well, the getting famous part did. He was so right about that. How did he know? Who'd ever thought I'd be famous at school? Maybe famous as being a homo–and that came true–but that wasn't what Tom meant. Not completely, anyway. Now I'm famous as the school homo, for fighting two bullies, for starting that Raymond's Revolution thing, and for playing synthesizer in the best band in school. And for singing, too. Geeze!

Greg Kihn stopped singing about love and jepoardy. I shut off the radio and sat up in bed. I felt good. Better than usual, at least lately. I had no residue from sweating all night, no sore muscles, no shakes, no fear, and no horror. I could remember my dreams from last night, some of them, and they made me smile. I looked at the Styx medallion still in my hand. It made me grin even wider.

I'd conquered the nightmare. Not only beaten it, but changed it, made it better. I wasn't just free of it, I owned it now. I could control it. I laughed lightly and climbed out of bed.

Fuck, it's nice to sleep! I said aloud, stretching.

The burns on my side and back were healing, and itching, but no longer hurt constantly. The spots on my legs were mostly healing, only a few of the largest ones still having scabs. They itched terribly, but I was getting good at ignoring them. The sensation as I ran my hands lightly over them was pleasurable. The fingers on my left hand hardly felt any different from the ones on my right, and they looked the same as the others. I tried popping the joints, and they gave with satisfying clicks. I rubbed my temple, feeling the faint scar and the itch, but no pain and no ache. I coughed on purpose, to start the usual ones, but they were reluctant to get going, so I didn't force them.

Things were changing, still.

I put the key ring on the bedside table, nearly patting the medallion as I let go of it. I got clean clothes and took a shower. I took my time, enjoying the feeling of the hot water on my skin, the burns, even my temple for the first time in weeks. My breathing was nearly normal as I dried off. I was breathing a little quickly after getting dressed, but nothing like I had. As I dressed, I listed my thoughts, ticking them off in my head. There were so many.

Trey, the Valentine's Day card, and what I had done that had likely been the wrong thing to do, and now needed to be fixed.

'When you make a mistake, you need to recognize it, and fix it if you can, and remember it so that you don't repeat it.'

Thanks, Mom, that was good advice. I need to fix things with Trey. He seemed really hurt when I told him to leave me alone. He really seemed to want to talk, and probably try to fix things between us. He probably really didn't know about his two friends watching us that day at the creek. And if he didn't know, and it wasn't a plot to trick me into proving I was a fag, then what he said that day at Salt Creek Woods was true. And it had to have hurt him so much when I hit him and told him that I hated him. No wonder he didn't call or come over after that. I didn't call or go over to see him, either. And then I hurt him again when he tried to make up at school last week. How bizarre that he shows up after all this time at my school. How weird that he moved twice and now goes to the same school I do. Fucking coincidences. Or Toby. No. Toby could not arrange for him to move here. I'll talk to Trey and see if I can make things right. If he's still willing. I won't be surprised if he hates me now. I'd deserve it.

I worried about my mid-term grades.

I can work on them, and improve them. I have half a year to do that. I can fix them and get back on the honor roll. I've got the guys in my classes to help, and the guys at the breakfast table, and lunch table. And the guys in the Circle. And the band guys. I should be able to get caught up and even get ahead again.

I worried about changing and showering in gym.

At least now there are some good guys in my locker row. I still can't believe they moved to my row! I got to honor that, and not scope them out and make them regret it. Don't treat them like sex objects. They're good buddies and deserve better. The big deal, though, is how everyone is going to react to having the homo running around naked with them in the locker room and the showers. I wonder if anyone has asked to transfer out of the class, go to gym some other period? Probably. Geeze. Just so long as no one bothers me. But who'd want to get into a fight with the school homo in the showers? Nobody would even want to get near me. I don't have to worry about that, I think.

I thought of Ryan, the other gay guy I knew, and how he probably had some of the same worries.

I taught Ry that we're okay the way we are. How did I do that? When? Does it matter? Not really. Kinda cool that he got that from me. Wild. We are, too, okay the way we are. Still have to figure out what he meant by someone going to ask me something. He won't give me any more clues, though. Oh well. I'll just have to worm them out of him, one way or another. And now that I'm not with Jeff, maybe I can worm them out of him in a fun way!

Just don't go there. It'd be like with Jeff, anyway. Ryan's a great guy. Good friend. Really glad he's my friend. And I'm glad I decided not to get too close to him. Even if he did turn out to be gay, too. He's too good of a friend to ruin it with trying to be together like Jeff and I had. But he's so cute! And so nice! Stop it. Don't tease yourself with that. Just enjoy being his friend.

But who was going to ask me something? Is that why Ry said we can't mess around anymore? Or is it because he's got his eye on someone? Either way, I guess he's right. Oh well. It was sure fantastic! Not gonna forget those nights! Ever! And we're in the band together!

I thought of the band, and of playing the synthesizer again. And even singing.

I'm in a band! And the best one in school, too. Playing at the student union almost every weekend. Styx, too! How fucking cool! Wonder how long I'll stay in the band? Will they want their usual keyboard player back when he can play again? And who is he? Hurt just in time for me to step in? Huge coincidence, sure, and I'm prone to them thanks to Toby. Who is he? Erich plays an instrument, but not a keyboard. Something in that case I've seen him with sometimes. So, no. Curt? He hurt his hands that day with Erich. No way. He plays in the school band, but not keyboards. Some instrument he carries in a case too. Flute or something. That's how they know each other, I think. Still, why worry about how long I'll be in the band? Just enjoy it while you got it.

'Let them hear you. Shine.'

Thanks, Tobes. I did. I will.

I thought of Erich and his hinted-at continuance of our liaisons for a while.

I'm certainly willing to! So cute! And what a nice body, and dick. I'm such a perv! But he's so hot! And he wants me to keep helping him out. No problem! I wonder if he's gay or not? He says he's not gay, he knows I am, so why would he lie? He likes it, so why would he lie? Doesn't matter, anyway. Just enjoy it while it lasts! No problem! I'll stay busy with Erich some more! Even if it's not to keep me busy while the van gets worked on anymore. Brilliant idea, Tom. Wonder if Tom knew we'd end up messing around? Probably. He knew he was Puppy Dog, so... yeah. Tom knew it. Ass.

Tom's sure been busy! Getting the van put back together, keeping it secret, setting up the party to give the van to me, getting me the job at the hobby shop, cluing me in on Puppy Dog, having Erich ask me for help so we'd have time together, giving me rides to school, and that's what I know about. Probably just the tip of the iceberg. He's something so special. No wonder I felt so bad, thinking I was losing him. I'd die if I lost him. It would be as bad, maybe worse, than losing Toby. God forbid! I just have to find out what's bothering him, so I can help him out for a change. Maybe Jeff knows something. I'll ask him when I take him home after school today. So cool! I'm driving to school today! And taking Jeff home in the van! And I've got to stop by and talk to Mister Broft about the job at the hobby shop!

And I've got the van! Cool! I have the van! My van! Fixed up better than ever by my friends and guys I don't even know. How the hell do I deserve that? Or being in the best band at school? Or Jeff? Or Tom? Or any of them? Or any of it?

Why do I have to worry about why? I got it. All of it!

And now I get to drive to school! I wonder what school will be like today? I hope quieter. Less trouble. Most of the trouble behind me, I hope.

Do I have hope, now? Can I have it? Can I really hope to just be left alone, and have friends and good times, not be bullied, not be made fun of? What about having somebody to be with? Can I hope for that now? Who? Jeff is so over. For the best, I guess. Toby said there was someone else, someone who's been close to me, someone I already know. That I'll have that someone, but he wouldn't hint who. Guess if he did, that would make me act differently, maybe even change things because of how I acted differently. But who?

David? But I didn't know David when Toby told me that. But, oh, wow, would that be cool! He's so hot! And that accent! And his hair! His smile! His eyes! His body! His grins! His phrases! The way he tosses his hair back! Everything! That's too good to happen to me. But I'd like it if it did! Just to be with him once! He sure said enough to make me think it's possible. And that promise! Just like Ryan's. Did Ryan put him up to it? Just to get me on the stage? Possibly. But, he kissed me! And really did it, not some peck on the cheek! That was a real kiss! And he was so cool to put me to bed like that. And hold me, and make me tell him what was bothering me. I really told him about the dreams, didn't I? The nightmare. And he didn't make fun of me. He asked questions and helped. Just like I had for Toby.

Another weird coincidence, that! To have David treat me like I had treated Toby. In such a similar situation. Does that mean David cares for me as much as I did Toby? I hope so! I've got to keep my eyes open for signs from David. Maybe there is something there! Oh, man, do I hope so!

I've got to try dreaming about that. Maybe see if I can figure anything out with my dreams, now that I know I can take control of them. The books seem to agree that it's possible to do. If they were right about being able to take control, maybe they’re right about being able to see things in dreams that you missed while awake. I'm looking forward to trying that out!

I thought of the nightmare and of what I had done with it.

I can control my dreams now! One of them anyway! I'll never have that nightmare again! Ever!

"Yes!"

Oh, shit! Hope Mom and Dad didn't hear that. Why not? So what if I'm in a good mood? Besides, they've already left. They knew the whole time I was in the band. Like the prank of the conversation with Tom about the old, green Plymouth. They're planning on seeing one of the shows at the student union, most likely this weekend. Instead of worrying about it, I actually feel okay about that. Actually good about it. Cool. They knew I was in a band, even when I was asking them last night about what they thought if I tried to join one. They knew I wasn't studying with the twins. So, think we're up to Circle pranks, do we, my loving parents? Well, I'll see about that.

I grinned at the fact that my parents so obviously loved me so much. And that now they were open for a payback prank. And due for one, too.

None of my thoughts were real worries, for a change. None of them made me feel anything but good. I tried to think of something that was bad, or horrible, like everything seemed to be just twenty-four hours ago. The only worries were what I had heard my parents discussing as they watched the tape of the show, that there was something they weren't telling me. And that I had screwed up things with Trey. I was still willing to let them tell me in their own time, as I was sure that if it was something very bad they wouldn't hide it from me, so whatever it was that my parents weren't telling me could wait. And I was ready to talk to Trey and set things right with him. There just wasn't anything to be worried or horrified about. For a change.

I was smiling and almost laughing as I walked downstairs.

I can take my time this morning. I'm driving myself to school for the first time. In my van!

I wanted to laugh out loud.

As I passed Toby's picture in the hall, I paused and stared. He had been so adorable. A little dorky, a little nerdy, but so cute to me. His strawberry-blond hair was almost unique. And the few others I'd seen with similar hair lacked Toby's potent, green eyes. Others shared his gentle, soft, sweet features, but not along with perfect lips and dimples. Or that small, square jaw that seemed narrow and almost pointed. No one else had that lurking smile, nearly invisible, so adorable.

I saw parts of him in so many others. He seemed to be everywhere I looked. In the faces of so many of my friends. As I thought of that, something nagged at me. Small, almost insignificant, but powerful. I tried to nail it down, tease it forward, but it eluded me and kept taunting me from a distance.

The hurt of losing him was still there, but it was so overwhelmed by the stronger joy that it didn't matter. No, it mattered, but it wasn't all there was. The joy of our time together, and the happiness at what I was sure I knew, were far stronger and more potent, nearly obscuring the hurt completely.

I took his picture down and held it, gazing at his perfection. I felt silly, but I placed a long, lingering kiss onto it.

I love you, and I'll miss you, but knowing what I learned, was worth it. See you again someday.

I put his picture back and headed into the kitchen. There was a garage door opener on the table with a note from my mom. I grinned at her words. There were no pills to be taken, and no bandages to be put on. No greasy ointments, no patch over my temple. I fixed cereal and juice, and then had a second bowl. I must have smiled the entire time, thinking of Toby, Tom, Jeff, Eric, the twins, Todd, Erich, Trey, my other friends, the band, and the things that had seemed so looming and horrible that now were dust.

Back upstairs, I put on my coat, gloves, and long Doctor Who scarf. I picked up my key ring and spent several seconds admiring the medallion, grinning. I shrugged my pack onto my shoulder, then headed downstairs and out to my van.

My van!

As I opened the door to the garage, I stared at it. It was beautiful, black, shiny perfection. The guys had done a remarkable job of fixing it up. It was parked backwards, as it had been that day, months ago, when my life had changed–and nearly ended. That worry and horror raised up, but I knocked it down like a one-legged, drunken, blind pirate with an ear infection.

I noticed that the hood was up, and remembered the charger. I disconnected it, closed the hood, then climbed in through the sliding side door. It closed easily and almost silently now, with a good, solid, satisfying thump. I sat in the driver's seat. It was still so unbelievable that it was mine. I adjusted the seat and mirrors. Tingles ran through my gut. I clipped the opener to the visor, and then pushed the button. As the door raised, I placed the—my—key into the ignition. I paused, looking at the medallion as it hung from the key ring, spinning slowly.

It brought back memories of Toby, and Tim, and the defeated nightmare. I grinned even wider.

I released the medallion and gazed around inside the van. I wasn't delaying starting the van, and I wasn't worried about the van bursting into flames. It was safer now than when it was new. I was enjoying the moment before I drove it to school for the first time, and admiring the refurbished interior. The red velvet, tuck-and-rolled sections on the doors and walls were bright and vivid. The black shag carpet and upholstery were deep and soft. The light-oak paneling and cabinet contrasted wonderfully. The dashboard, also light-oak with black accents and panel was beautiful. It couldn’t have turned out better if I had overseen every step of the work.

I sighed, held my breath, and then turned the key.

It fired almost instantly. The rumble was awesome. It sounded more like a sixties muscle car than a van. It purred like a panther. My guts tingled and I nearly had to wipe tears from my eyes as I put my foot on the brake pedal and shifted into drive. I rolled into the driveway to warm up, then closed the garage door with the remote.

I saw Tom's wagon in his driveway. I knew he would be in his usual seat at the breakfast table today, even if we didn't walk into school together for nearly the first time ever. Other than the times I had ridden my bike to school without him, like an idiot.

I turned on the radio. Freebird filled the van with smooth, mellow sounds. Memories of playing along to it filled my head. I could hear Toby's soft, accented voice as he sang and played his guitar, sitting next to me at the old synthesizer in my room. I wiped at my eyes again, but smiled widely.

I put the—my—van into gear and rolled out into the mid-March, Chicago, winter morning, driving to school for the first time.

Freebird led into Lean On Me by Mud. I liked the song a lot. It was another that I had learned to play. Now, my new, lower voice sounded good as I sang along.

The drive was exciting and dull. You have to have experienced a first day driving to school to understand. I remembered that I had to go to the offices to apply for a parking permit as I parked on the dead-end street by the practice field. It was the closest place to park that didn't require a permit. I wasn't willing to park closer, as all that parking was along the curb on one side of the street. The van was too wide to parallel-park on the road, especially with that huge side mirror sticking out all day long. Or there was pay parking across the Metro rail tracks, but you had to feed the meter every four hours.

As I walked toward school, I turned to look back at my van, happy and proud. Its deep black contrasted starkly with the blinding white of the snow that covered nearly everything but the street and the sidewalks. It represented more than freedom to me. It proved that I had great friends and parents, and that I was capable of surviving even death. And it was a reminder that Toby existed, even though he no longer lived. I wrapped the ridiculously long, multicolored scarf around my face and head, hiding my wide grin, and began the walk to school.

Two blocks in the suburbs of Chicago in early March is a long, cold, windy walk. But I was warm, and not just from my coat and scarf. And the sunrise over the school was beautiful. The deep reds and purples were stunning above the old, brick building. The clock tower stuck up high into the colors of the sunrise, as it had done for just under one hundred years now, unchanging.

I wondered what changes lay ahead at school, and in my life in general. For the first time, I wasn't daunted and afraid of those changes. I knew that some would be good, some would be bad, but that I could survive them. Especially with the help of the Circle, my friends, and my family.

I walked past a green Plymouth Satellite, exactly like the one I had thought I was being given yesterday, the one Tom and I had messed around in some months ago. It was identical. It was too unusual a car not to be the same one, and too much of a coincidence. I wondered who ended up with it. I was sure I would find out, and I was sure it would be interesting.

I had time, so I let my mind wander. With so many things finally resolved now, only two things really bothered me, and only one mattered as I walked to school, so I let myself think about him. I hadn't allowed that for years, since I had made what happened in Salt Creek Woods become what hadn't happened.

Since I intended to set things right between us today, I opened up those long-sealed memories–and thought of Trey Waring.

Chapter 1

Someone Who Made A Big Difference In My Life

More Than Three Years Ago

I’d been a lonely kid. I knew some kids at school, and we helped each other with schoolwork, but I didn't have any real friends. Until Trey.

My stutter and lisp had made making friends all but impossible. My reddish hair, freckles, and glasses hadn't helped any, either. Speech therapy, and the incredibly nice woman who led the class, helped me get rid of the stutter and lisp by fourth grade. I ended up skipping fifth.

I'd never made many friends in grade school, but when I entered junior high, I tried harder. Over the first few months I made several friends, and one became a very good friend. We liked the same kind of bad science-fiction movies, and the same rock music. We liked the same books. And Dungeons and Dragons. We even secretly liked the same country songs. The irony was, I had been going to school with him for years.

Near the end of seventh grade, we started spending almost all of our time together. He had an older brother who was an ass, so we usually ended up at my house after we had ridden our bikes to the arcade, or the movies, or just around all day. He slept over at my house almost every weekend by the middle of seventh grade and then almost all summer long.

I finally had a best friend.

He was just a normal kid, not fat, not skinny, a little tall, not all that smart. He had blond hair, brown eyes, ordinary features. There wasn't much about him that stood out. Unless you were a boy who was beginning to be concerned that he found other boys attractive. In that case, he had the most wonderful blond hair, all wavy and unruly, eyes so soft and brown you wondered if they felt like velvet, the cutest nose that turned up just a tiny bit, and red lips so perfectly shaped that they belonged in magazines or on television. When he smiled, it made you wonder how anyone else would dare smile and reveal how weak and tepid their own smile was. If you were a boy who was beginning to worry that you might like boys instead of girls, then he had the cutest butt on earth, and was beginning to fill out the front of his pants in ways that made your breath come short and fast–and made the front of your own pants suddenly feel tight and constraining. I guess that if you were a girl our age, you would find him cute, too. But I know that I did.

One day between seventh and eighth grades, in the little shed behind my house, we cut our palms and held them together, our blood mixing, and swore we would always be brothers, like then, like always, until death. We made up secret nicknames for each other. Blood-brothers had to have private, secret nicknames; I was X and he was 3.

We came up with a way to leave secret notes for each other. We both loved Sherlock Holmes. We would fold the paper in a very special way, used very plain, block letters arranged in an order defined by the last word used, and would always use our secret nicknames. That way, if they were found, no one could know who had written them, even if they could figure out the key, and only after they managed to unfold them without destroying them.

We loved daring each other. Never anything too gross, or disgusting, or wrong. A dare was a dare, it could never be ignored or denied. We never abused it. Never. Not once. Not until... what happened.

Blood brothers had to have secret names, and secret words, and secret notes, but they had to have secrets, too.

I knew Trey's: He sometimes wet the bed. It was really rare, and the first time it happened at my house, he went home before I woke up. I didn't know why he was gone until I found his sleeping bag and pajamas in the trash. I put them in the washer, and while they were drying, I called him. I made him come back over. I told him how my cousin still did that, and I knew it wasn't something he could help. I told him I didn't care. I told him I'd hate it if we didn't stay friends, and I just wanted to have a normal day of fun with him. We did.

I kept his secret. Even when we had our fights, even when we fought and took sides with our other friends. Those times were rare, but they happened. Even blood brothers fight. But I never betrayed his secret. Even after... what happened.

I wasn't any kind of fighter, and being such a dork, I was picked on sometimes. Trey started defending me. Twice he stepped up and fought someone picking on me, and after that, I wasn't bothered again.

He slept over at my house the whole summer between seventh and eighth grades. We were almost inseparable. He ate at my house, brought clothes over, showered there, and often didn't see his own home until we both went there for some reason or another.

By the time we started eighth grade, we were as close as I thought anyone could be. And I knew I was feeling far too much for him. I constantly had to hide my feelings. When he'd change clothes, I tried never to look, but often slipped peeks out of the corner of my eyes. After he'd shower, I'd use the bathroom. I'd grab his wet towel out of the hamper and hold it, smell it, and wish I had been able to see him using it. Then I'd beat off quickly and use the towel to clean up. Then I'd do my best to not think about him that way again when I joined him and we did whatever we did together.

When eighth grade started, he sat at the lunch table with me and my dorky friends, even though his 'normal' friends told him it was stupid to. He talked to me in the halls, and he rode his bike home with me after school. We shared secret laughs and notes, and he protected me from bullies. Was it any wonder that whispered rumors began about us during the last months of eighth grade?

Brad Timmons told me. He said that for weeks it had been whispered that Trey and I were boyfriends. Queers. Homos. Ass Rangers. I couldn't say anything for long moments. I wanted to deny it, laugh at it, make fun of the very idea.

But inside, I wished it were true.

I pointed out to Brad that he didn't have a girlfriend, and he hung around with other boys, even slept over at other boys' houses, and that made him and his friends as gay as Trey and I. He couldn't argue with that, so he agreed it was only stupid rumors. I thought that would be the end of it.

It was only the beginning.

That afternoon, at my house, in my room, I'd told Trey. It didn't go well.

What? Who? When? Where? I'll fuckin' kill 'em!

I told you so you'd know. That's all. I got the guys slapping it down, telling anyone who says something like that that they know it's a lie. Okay?

He calmed, but not entirely.

It's okay, Three. Just stupid rumors. You know how they go. Be forgotten next week. With graduation and all that shit, it'll be all forgot.

He nodded.

Maybe we should go to the prom together? he asked, his adorable half-grin starting.

We snickered.

Yeah, but who wears the dress?

We laughed.

We both can. Go as lezzies!

We laughed some more.

Things went back to normal. I tried not to adore him, but failed. It was only getting worse. I'd found out that I liked masturbating while thinking about him last year, but now I was having dreams about him. Those kinds of dreams.

I didn't know if I could hide it from him much longer.

Then Mom and Dad told me that we were going to move over the summer. They wanted me to go to a better high school than the one my junior high led into.

I was devastated. I had finally gotten friends, and a best friend, but I was moving so far away that they would go to a different high school. I would never see them again.

I was never one to scream or yell at my parents, but I did fume for an entire week. I hardly talked to them. I answered them only when I had to. I understood that they wanted me to go to a high school that would give me the best education, but that didn't ease the hurt or the anger.

I wanted to tell Trey, but I couldn't. Every time that I tried, or decided it was the right time, I would choke up. He told me to tell him when I could talk about it. He never dared me to.

I loved that about him. He cared. He didn't mind showing it, either. Not with me.

I loved him. I knew it. I began to really fear that I was actually going to be gay. That I wasn't just having some kind of phase.

When the last month of school began, my parents told me that they had found a new house in the right neighborhood for a top-rated high school. It was a brand new house, still being built. It would be ready for us to move into by the beginning of July.

I struggled with that fact for weeks. And the fact that I was falling for Trey, and that I was going to move away from him. And my other friends. Forever. I would never see them again.

I was miserable.

Trey stayed at my house as often as his parents would let him. I wanted to tell him that I was moving, but I couldn't. It hurt too much to even think about; talking about it was impossible.

I let the time go by.

We studied after school, then did anything and everything together. We had fun, we joked, we laughed, we slept over at my house, we wrestled, we dared each other, we rode our bikes to the mall, the woods, the creek, the arcade, the bookstore, nowhere in particular. We sat around my place watching television, listening to music, and doing nothing in particular. We'd play our favorite songs on the record player while we sang along, and he played the desk like drums and I played my synthesizer. We were apart only when we were in different classes at school, he had to go home for some reason or other that his parents insisted on, or he went home on school nights.

With so many nights together, and us being almost fourteen, sex was almost always a topic of conversation. And almost as often, on our minds but unspoken.

We often wrestled when he stayed over at my place. It usually ended with him on top of me, usually straddling my chest. I didn't mind at all. Especially when it was late at night during a sleepover with just the two of us. Because he wet the bed sometimes, when he slept over he always brought pajamas. Just in case. He would change into them just before we actually and really went to bed. And he didn't wear underwear under them. I loved wrestling with him then, for very obvious reasons. He would often wrestle me to the floor to win an argument. I soon learned to argue the wrong side, just so that he would have to physically get his point across. He was far more athletic than me, anyway, and being larger and stronger, he didn't mind using those advantages. And I didn't mind his taking advantage of them.

On the weekend before the eighth-grade prom, I tried to tell him that I had to move away. I got as far as telling him how much I liked spending time with him, and how I thought he was my best friend ever. He said I was his blood brother and that I could tell him anything. I almost told him that I was almost sure that I was gay and that I was almost sure that I was in love with him. That seemed easier to tell him than that in two weeks we would never see each other again. I choked on the words and started crying.

He put his hand on my shoulder and said, X, take your time if you can't tell me yet. I'll understand.

His voice was so soft, so gentle, so caring. His face was so beautiful.

I could only wipe at my eyes and choke out, I can't.

The night of the prom, we went to hang out at Archer's. It was a local hangout where guys with hot cars would park, show them off, and talk about them. We both loved classic sixties hot-rods. After a couple of hours walking around and admiring the cars, he wanted to go to Salt Creek Woods. We liked going there. It was quiet there, even on weekends. It was basically just a small patch of woods surrounded by suburban sprawl.

A large creek ran though it, and we liked to sit in a certain spot that had no path to it and seemed to be secret. The water was always moving, making a soft sound. We went there all year around, even with snow covering the ground and ice on the creek. That June night was hot and humid. We ended up taking off our shoes and socks and putting our feet in the water. We had rolled our pants cuffs up, but they were getting wet.

I'm gonna take the jeans off so I can put my legs in, too.

He stood up and did so. I tried not to stare, or even look. No matter how badly I wanted to. He sat down and stretched his bare legs out into the water with an, Ahhh, of pleasure. I kept looking across the creek into the darkness. I could see his legs out of the corner of my eye, and the flash of his white briefs. I got so hard it hurt.

Gonna? he asked.

Nah, I'm fine.

I hoped that he couldn't see the tenting occurring in my jeans. It was horribly uncomfortable, but intensely sexual, too. It wasn't the first time I had been so intensely turned on around him. Far from it.

I'd seen him in underwear more than a few times during sleepovers, and recently he had started changing from his jeans and briefs into his pajamas without going to the bathroom. He never did so directly in front of me, would always do so by sitting on the bed behind me. But right then, in the woods, it seemed so incredibly sexy that I popped wood in an instant.

So, sitting there on the creek bank, him in his underwear, was only new in that it was somewhere almost public. We talked about school, and plans for our summer, and girls.

Oh, man! Sherry is getting the biggest tits! he said gleefully.

I know! Like watermelons!

Yeah. Man, I'd love to put my face between them and just lay there.

He sighed. So I did too.

I'm getting a major woody, he said suddenly.

I looked over by accident. His hand was down the front of his briefs, moving.

I swallowed. I looked away.

Dude, I got to take care of it. Be right back.

He stood up and walked around the large trees to the right. I tried not to look that way. I tried not to listen intently. I waited. I couldn't stop thinking of what he was doing just a few feet away.

More than once during a sleepover I had wondered if he was doing the same thing. He would sometimes take forever in the bathroom. Sometimes I'd wake up in the night and hear him sighing, or making a repeated brushing noise, or breathing quickly. But right then, I knew what he was doing, and he was doing it just a few feet away from me. It was driving me crazy.

When he came back, he was grinning cutely. He walked toward me in only his white briefs. He jiggled in them. I tried not to look.

Feel better? I asked with a short laugh.

Yup, he replied, also laughing shortly.

He put his jeans back on.

Want food. Hungry?

Sure, I said.

We put our shoes and socks back on. I stood up once he had turned to walk out of there. I adjusted myself secretly and then caught up with him. We had polish sausage and root beer on the way to my place.

It was another great sleepover. Until I made a huge mistake. I argued that The Thing From Another World was better than Forbidden Planet. But not until he had changed into his pajamas. I was still in my jeans, and always was when he slept over. I never wanted him to see how excited he made me. I used to sleep in my underwear until some time in seventh grade, when he started making me so excited.

I had known that my argument would cause a wrestling match. It ended up with him straddling my chest, as usual, the opening of his pajamas giving me that awesome peek through them. He was hard. I grew even harder.

Now, you were saying? he asked, grinning a cute grin.

I said, I was saying, that Forbidden Planet is a waste of celluloid, around my laughter.

He bounced on my chest.

Say what? he asked, laughing.

He had such a cute laugh.

I was saying, Forbidden Pla-, another bounce on my chest, -ugh!

Say what? he asked, as he held my arms down tighter, and then rocked his butt up and down my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Okay, I said, merely a wheezing whisper due to his movements and my laughter.

Okay, what?

The Thing sucks! I managed to choke out.

Say what? he asked, surprised.

It sucks, I repeated.

No it doesn't! Just not as good as Forbidden Planet, he said, still surprised. What's the deal?

I wasn't going to tell him I only argued so we could wrestle, so I tried to get out from under him. It was no use. I twisted and wiggled as best as I could, but I knew I was trapped.

We were both laughing, and he was easily keeping me flat on my back. I kept struggling, half-sitting up, taking glances at his open pajama fly, getting glimpses of skin, hair, even sometimes making out the exact outline and shape of him.

He rocked back and forth on my chest, laughing, making me laugh. Then he got quiet, and something seemed weird. I noticed he was breathing funny, and his face looked funny, almost like he was in pain, then he looked worried or scared, then he got so red.

I knew he had noticed I had looked at his open pajama fly and was enjoying seeing through it. He rolled off of me. He looked at me strangely. His face turned redder. I could see him swallow.

I knew I had just fucked up in a big way.

He rolled onto his sleeping bag and pulled half of it over himself without a word.

I slunk into my bed, feeling like I had just hurt him.

I had a very hard time trying to fall asleep. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. I wanted to explain that I had only looked that one time he had seen. I wanted to hear him laugh. I wanted to see him smile.

I had to fight not to cry.

When I woke up early the next morning, he was gone. I felt awful. I wanted to call him. He had never before left in the morning like that, except the first time he'd had an accident during the night. I wanted to call him, like I had that time, but this was different. This wasn't his having an accident, this was his finding out that I liked to look into his pajamas.

I didn't call.

He had left the book behind, the one I had given to him the previous year, when we had discovered a mutual love of the British detective. I leafed through it several times, fighting tears. I put it to my nose, hoping to smell him on it. That shocked and scared me, so I threw it under the bed.

Saturday went by without him. For the first time in almost two years.

Then Sunday.

I was beyond miserable. I was horrified at myself. Disgusted at myself. Humiliated. And so angry at myself for making my blood brother hate me.

Five days of school, then eighth grade would end and summer vacation would start. I would move. Then high school.

Sunday night I decided that he would forgive me. We just had to talk. I would tell him that I only looked that one time he had noticed. It didn't mean anything. Our friendship was too strong. We were blood brothers; like then, like always - to death.

Monday. We had several classes together, and in the first one I sat down next to him like normal.

Why did you leave? I asked, just as I planned, trying to look curious and unworried.

He didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. I got worried.

Trey?

He crossed his arms and ignored me.

I had never hurt so much before. My breath became ragged, my eyes and cheeks grew hot. I fought not to cry. The rest of the class was absolutely horrible. I dreaded finding out that he had told, and everyone would know I was a faggot. I dreaded going to each following class, but no one pointed at me and laughed, or called me a fag. We had fourth period together, too. And we sat together, too.

Trey?

Nothing. I sat silently for the rest of the class, wanting to run out of there and go home and cry.

My friends were normal at lunch. It seemed that Trey hadn't said anything. He stayed with his friends.

Sixth period.

T?

Nothing.

I didn't try in eighth-period English. I just sat down and remained silent. We normally would have walked out together, gone to our lockers together, then walked to my house together.

I walked out alone, went to my locker alone, rode my bike home alone.

I cried as soon as I got to my room.

I prayed. I rarely prayed, and hardly believed, but I prayed. I prayed that Trey would call me and that things would be okay again. I prayed that Trey would laugh it off and forget it. I prayed to have my best friend - my blood brother - back.

I ate dinner.

I went back to my room.

I prayed more.

I cried more.

I fell asleep.

It was the same on Tuesday. Trey stayed silent and ignored me. He never even looked at me.

I went to my locker alone. I rode home alone. I cried alone.

I ate dinner.

I went back to my room and cried and prayed. Alone.

Wednesday. Wednesday I died a little.

When I walked into homeroom, several kids laughed. One pointed and said, Fag!

I glared, trying to look mean or intimidating. It probably didn't work.

I'm not gay, I said as I sat down.

Not what I heard, Max Courtland said with a laugh.

Others laughed.

My guts shriveled.

What are you talking about? I asked as angrily as I could.

I heard you like looking at Trey's junk, he said, laughing still.

I had to say something. Only one thing came to mind.

We went down to the woods for something to do, and he just, went behind a tree and did it, I said.He pulled his junk out and started beating off. I didn't fucking watch shit.

What?

You heard me. The fucker pulled out his junk, right there in the woods. We were talking about Sherry's huge tits, then the next thing I know, he's jackin' it. We don't talk now, in case you ain't noticed.

I hated to do that, but I needed to cover my own ass, and obviously Trey had opened his mouth about what happened at Salt Creek. I had to say something, right there and then, and it was all I could think of. I felt like a traitor, and a heel, and an asshole.

You didn't check out his shit?

Dude, we were talking about Sherry's tits. Why he wanted to show me his shit, I don't know. Maybe he didn't wanna show me, maybe he just wanted to jerk it. I don't know.

I repeated the same story three times that day. I never sat next to Trey, either. I moved to an empty seat in every class I had with him. My friends seemed quiet around me at lunch. I was glad he sat with his friends.

I went home alone. I cried alone. I ate dinner, but barely. Mom asked if I was feeling okay. I said that tests were rough this year. I went back to my room and prayed. I cried, alone.

No one said anything about it on Thursday. I sat at a desk far from him in each class we had together. My friends acted quiet at lunch.

When the last bell rang, I went to my locker alone.

I rode home alone.

I cried alone.

I ate dinner.

I went back to my room and cried and prayed. Alone.

Friday. The last day of junior high. I hurt from the moment I woke. I cried before I got out of bed.

My friends in homeroom were quiet, as if something were wrong. Before that period ended, I felt alone, again. It was like old times, from before, when I lisped, stuttered, was alone.

I sat far from Trey, and hardly dared to look at the back of his head. In lunch, my friends were quiet again, didn't even answer when I asked what was going on. I had never been so glad for the last day of school.

When the last bell rang, I was probably the only kid that wasn't screaming and laughing. I went to my locker, which was nearly empty, having returned all the textbooks, and put what little remained into my pack and rode home. Alone.

I sat in my room, hurt, but glad I wouldn't have to deal with Trey and my so-called friends ever again. When the phone rang, and Mom said it was for me, I wondered who would bother to call the fag.

Ex?

He sounded weird, but I was so glad to hear his voice saying my private nickname again.

Three.

I'm sorry I left.

I just wanted to be friends again. I wanted my best friend back. I wanted my blood brother back.

I, I... didn't mean it, I said.

I wanted to say that I hadn't meant to look, that it was an accident, but I didn't want to lie.

Alex?

Yeah?

There was a long silence.

I... I was... I just he said, sounding almost afraid.

I didn't mean it. You didn't have to leave.

After another long pause, he said, I, I want to talk to you. Okay? Please? Meet me at Salt Creek?

Yeah. Okay.

Anything! I had to talk to him!

Cool. See you then.

I couldn't wait. My heart raced and I couldn't stop grinning. I got on my bike and rode hard and fast. I left my bike at the usual place and then ran to the creek. I waited.

I worried. I tried not to be sick. I made up my mind to tell him that I was moving in a week. I didn't care what he said before I did, I was going to tell him. Finally. I almost hoped that he was coming to tell me that he knew, and that he didn't want us to be mad at each other for our last week together.

I just wanted to be friends again. I wanted my best friend, my blood-brother, back.

I heard him coming through the woods. I was so nervous. I couldn't even look at him as he sat down next to me. I began shaking and sweating.

Ex.

Three.

We were silent for a while.

I managed to look at him. He looked adorable, though a bit... scared? He had changed clothes since school, and was wearing the tan pocket pants that fit him so nicely, and the black shirt that looked very good on him, and made him look very good in it.

I'm sorry I looked, I blurted out.

I had to look away from him. And not because I felt like throwing up. I couldn't stop the tears that started falling. I could only wipe at them.

Ex?

What?

I... I think I, love you.

I made a soft, squeaking sound in my throat. I coughed to clear my throat and restart my breathing.

"What?"

I, think, I think I love you, Ex, he said so softly.

I looked at him involuntarily. He looked right into my eyes. He tried to smile.

I don't know. But...

He sighed deeply and pounded his fist into the ground.

I, want to know, though. I got to know. Will...

What? I barely whispered.

Will you kiss me? To, find out? Just... one time?

I squeaked again.

He grinned in his cutest way, then said, I dare you.

I nodded. I remembered to breathe. I leaned toward him. I couldn't believe it. My heart raced. My breath stopped again. I shook. I closed my eyes as my lips neared his.

My lips touched his. Soft. Warm. He pressed them harder into mine. I felt his hand on my thigh, and felt it move upward. I started tingling.

I heard laughter.

We jerked apart.

"He is a fag!" Danny yelled, coming out of the brush.

Fag! Mark said, laughing.

His friends stood there, laughing at me.

I didn't know where it came from, but I hit Trey. Hard. I struck him firmly on the mouth. It hurt my hand, so I know that it had hurt his mouth. His eyes went wide and his hands covered his injured lips.

The very lips I had just kissed. Those adorable, red, luscious lips.

Faggot! Faggot! Faggot! Mark and Danny chanted together, laughing.

I saw a red trail form below his hands and start down his chin.

You mother-fucking ass-hole! I yelled at him. I hate your fucking guts!

I jumped up and ran. I ran away from Danny and Mark, then cut back toward my bike. I saw Trey's bike there, and I kicked it over then jumped onto the spokes and rim of his front wheel several times. Danny and Mark had ridden a moped. I picked up Trey's bike and beat the moped with it until it fell over and I smelled gasoline. Then I rode as hard and fast as I ever had. I cried as hard as I ever had. I had to wipe my eyes over and over or risk running into things. I threw my bike down and ran inside. I locked the door behind me and ran into my room. I threw myself onto the bed and cried until I heard someone come home.

I cleaned myself up and pretended nothing had happened. I ate dinner. Mom asked if I felt well. I said I was tired from studying so much and I