Free Falling

By Emery C. Walters

Evan has family problems. He has a special-needs brother whom he adores and clueless parents. His senior class writing assignment is overdue because he ended up in the hospital. The reason why involves his new classmate, Jamison, and the realisation that he is almost certainly gay.

Jamison has his own issues. His mom died of cancer and he misses her, but at least his dad is supportive. Things are looking up now that Evan is in the picture.

Christmas is a bust for Evan. Jamison and his dad fly off to see relatives, leaving Evan alone with his dysfunctional parents and ill brother, but at least an intriguing new girl has moved in next door. New Year's Eve looks promising until Evan's parents tag him to babysit his brother while they party. When tragedy strikes that night, who will be there for Evan? With family problems keeping him and Jamison apart, can a death bring them back together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Queerteen Press
• Release date: Dec 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781611528268

Emery C. Walters

Emery C. Walters was born Carol Forde, a name he soon knew didn’t fit the boy he was inside. Transition was unknown back then, so he married and then bore and raised four children. When his youngest child, his gay son, left home, Emery told Carol that she had to step aside, and he fully transitioned from female to male in 2001.

Book preview

Year

Chapter 1: My First Time

This is a hard paper for me to write, Mr. Marshall. But here goes; oh sorry about the, But. Now, as per your request. My name is Evan Darling Stop Laughing. You know it’s true. My stupid mother married my stupid father who has the stupidest last name in the world. The only other horrible last name in this town is Enos. You know what they call Michael, don’t you? Mike Enos the P…I get goo-goo eyes and people making kissy faces at me. Then they tell me what darling blue eyes I have and what a darling sweet smile and oooh, how the girls must love me to pieces. More on that later.

Anyhow he moved on and I never see him, but my stepfather who has raised me much longer than I would like, is named Miller which as you probably know is the name of a beer, which, he claims, was named in his honor.

If you don’t remember, you asked us to write about My Weekend, My First Time, How I Spent my Summer Vacation, or the ever popular, What Were the Major Turning Points in the Boer War? You said you wanted honesty and depth. Ha-ha, I said depth.

How I Spent My Weekend (close enough)

You may have noticed I was out of school this past week. Pretty quiet in class, huh? No tacks on your seat, no spit-wads, (I learned about them from my dad), no whispering/yelling/flirting or anything. Did you miss me? Well, I’m back. Sorry.

Now I’ll tell you where I was. I was in the hospital. Yes, I have a note from my doctor. The principal has it. He’s checking with my mother and my doctor to make sure it’s legit. It’s not as if it’s signed, Evan’s Dockter, or anything. It’s legit. I was only there for three days but they wouldn’t let me leave the house until today. Anyhow, it could have been worse. I could have been in the nut house—or homeless, or dead. Anyhow, this is why my paper is late.

It was like this. You know that new kid, Jamison? The one with the curly blond hair and the sea-green eyes? Yeah, that one you had sit next to me and asked me to help out. Oh boy, did I help him out. As soon as he sat down next to me, he looked up at me with those eyes, and I melted into a puddle of goo or something. Right then I would have helped him out of the room and into the boys’ room if he’d asked. Or even if you’d only turned your head. We wouldn’t have been very long. But no. At that very moment you had to open your mouth and say, and I quote, Now remember. These papers are important. They need to be over a thousand words and I want detail and I mean detail. And an introduction, and background. I want to be able to see what you’re writing about, to be there at the scene of the action.

Please remember those were your orders as you read my paper, okay? Maybe next time you should be more careful about what you ask for. (Or maybe not, hey, what do I really know about your personal life? Is there a Mrs. Marshall? Or is there perhaps a partner, or even a husband? What do I know?)

Okay then. There’s the introduction of which you speak. Now for the background. Up to this time, two weeks ago when all this happened, I thought I was a pretty normal kid, you know. Honest, studious, a little nuts, apparently very annoying, kind of talkative, good-looking, talented, smart, but straight and all that. Not to mention handsome, clear-eyed, and destined for a great future. A boy who was too busy with his education to mess around with girls. I did figure I was a late bloomer and would be interested in girls soon enough. I’d just wait until I could actually get a girlfriend and take her clothes off or something and see if that—ew, never mind. (How’s that for description? Your word once again. I tried. Not the girlfriend thing, the description.)

Well, when Jamison sat his gorgeous ass down next to me, I could no longer deny this nagging suspicion that boobies, bare-naked or not, did not and never would do it for me. You know why? Because Jamison’s eyes and his ass did it for me, if you know what I mean, and what