Topher Lydon
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"Nice guy," Blake said, glancing down to watch in the mirror as the two other men got into the Jeep. "He's a little young for a teacher, though." "Co-op program," West explained. "He was pretty good at it, too; he was the one that got me so hooked on Shakespeare." "That explains it," Blake replied with a nod. "Explains what?" West asked, shifting a little as they drove back into the heart of the town. "Well, no one can touch you when it comes to Shakespeare," Blake replied. "
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"How was school today?" his mom asked, as West took the vegetable knife from her to finish chopping the carrots while she went to go check on the chicken. "Odd," West admitted truthfully. "Oh?" She looked across the kitchen at him. He shrugged; he always felt close to his folks, they shared everything with him and he tried to do the same with them. However there were a few things that he still felt awkward talking about. "What is it?" she asked, getting a puzzled
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He rotated the pen between his fingers as he stared out of the window, occasionally clicking it twice before rotating it back the other way thoughtfully. Modern History, the build-up to the First World War (not that that was very modern, being that it was nearly a hundred years ago, but high school history programs seemed to have changed little in the last fifty years, focusing on the same material and ignoring modern modern history completely.) He sat near to the back, with a clear and
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West rolled the Bronco to a stop by the east entrance of the Rideau Centre mall; it was the Mecca of underage kids too young to get into the bars, but still looking for a nightlife. West had been there a couple of times when he had been younger, just hanging around in the food court with his buddies, talking to girls and being a pain in the ass to the security. West turned and glanced back to Joey-his kid brother was frantically pulling on his toque, even though it was late spring. "You
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He wasn't sure what had inspired him to tell Peter like that; maybe it had been the burning need to get it off his chest. Or him simply wanting to make the poor guy feel okay-man had he ever screwed that one up. He was mulling this stuff over as he helped his dad repair the tractor the next day. Something was wrong with the fuel line and his dad was hoping it would be a quick fix to save having to take the old John Deere into the service station. Two hours later and it was looking more a
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All-American, he guessed that was how he was viewed, sitting in the cafeteria at his table, listening to his friends go on about the game the night before. He was half-interested-after all he had been there playing along side them, hell he'd even scored a couple of goals-but his mind was drifting away from it as he looked about him. The school was pretty much the same as any other. South Carleton High School was the only English high school in the small town, built on a series of steep h
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Saturday nights were always different for him; his brother usually stayed home, his best friend came over and the two would watch movies and such while Mom fussed over them. It gave West a bit more freedom, and Dad had forked over the Bronco keys with his usual wink and a warning to drive safely and not be too late. The school year was nearly over, college applications had come in at long last, and everyone was supposedly preparing for their final exams. There was the usual buzz about pr
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West tucked the Bronco into the lot, jumping down from the truck and slamming the door, hefting his book bag to his shoulder as he reluctantly stared over at the school. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day; the last of the snow was gone, the sun warming everything in a valiant effort to give them a taste of the summer that was so close. His brother was gone, dashing and leaping the guard rail as he met up with a couple of his buddies smoking just outside the gym doors, tantalizingly
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"Careful, she's contagious," his mother warned as West came through the back door heading for his sister, who was battling the evil homework for yet another night. He paused, looking her over; she didn't look sick... "What's wrong?" he asked, puzzled, setting down his hockey bag and standing his sticks up in the small alcove by the door. "She caught cooties today," his mother stated with a knowing look. "The only known cure is doing all your homework and eating lots of green vege
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"Way to go, West," he said with a grin. "You nearly beat Matty." "I wasn't even trying," Matt grinned from in front of West in the line. "Liar," West shot back with a smirk. Matt took his shot on net, glancing off of Jensen's pad as he returned to the end of the line. West came up, and drove the puck low between Jensen's skates and into the net, as Brad's ricocheted off of the bar. "So," Brad said coming in behind West again, "did you hear Coach Highmore and Coach
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Monday, West was somewhat aware of his surroundings when he pushed his way through the gym doors that connected the school to the student parking lot. He walked along the hall, smiling and nodding to a few familiar faces that did the same back towards him; he was a bit early, but then most mornings were spent in the gym playing basketball, killing time till the first bell. Brad was sitting on the scorekeeper's chair, Mel lounging on the table beside him. She looked bored, rolling a sucke
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His mom had agreed after making him promise to drive his brother and sister home. Matt had taken shotgun, much to Joey's annoyance; it seemed no matter how quick off the mark Joey tried to be, there was always someone faster. West's mother had come out to meet the Bronco as it bounced down the driveway, waving Sammy past her into the house as she leaned on the window to glance at the two boys. "Hello, Matthew," she said pleasantly, as Joey slammed the rear passenger door and ran
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He realized he was stalking Blake. Well it wasn't really stalking; he was just doing his best to catch glimpses of the other student in the most innocuous method possible. He would find a bulletin board and pretend to read it, watching as Blake chatted with some of his friends. Or stop to talk to a teammate when Blake would start fishing around in his locker. Why? Well he couldn't really answer that, it was an insatiable curiosity. A way to see whatever it was Matt had seen. So far West
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Will sat quietly in the Bronco, remembering the last time he had sat in it with his father, heading home nearly two years ago after being stranded with Andrew. So much time had passed since then, so much had changed. He was no longer the quiet boy that hid from his own shadow and cowered when his father yelled. Amazing how one person's love could change a person. Like the love of a little girl for her baby brother that had kept him alive, Andrew's love helped him be a stronger person in
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Brody was smoking a cigarette on the porch watching as Will trimmed back the over-enthusiastic growth of the bush at the end of the garden. He casually flicked his ash as he relaxed with Plato's Republic balanced across his knees as he read, occasionally looking up to criticize Will's pruning. "Not too much!" he warned. "Yes, dear," Will muttered. "It's like we're married, you know." Brody looked up from his book and arched a surprised eyebrow, "Do I look like a hockey pl
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Brody shook his head ever so slightly as he stood in the doorway looking disheveled. He walked into the living room, walking first around Andrew then back again shaking his head slowly. Will stood up, still clutching Andrew's tee shirt; he opened his mouth to say something, offer an explanation that it really wasn't how it looked. Brody held up a hand. "Nope," bidding Will back into silence. He dramatically reached into his jacket pocket; drawing out his wallet he flipped
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It should have been called William Carter and the Barbeque of Doom. It had turned out that Jared had taken the liberty of inviting a few people, a few people who had taken the liberty of inviting a few more, until a small barbeque had become a full-blown house party. Brody was in his element, spinning tracks from the stereo, demonstrating the wonders of his record collection. Surprisingly his retro flair still held appeal to everyone and after they had tucked the coffee table out of the
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The barbeque was fully loaded in the back of Brody's truck; through some unfathomable magic Jared had managed to talk the salesman down a full hundred dollars for the floor model. Sure it was left over from last year, but a barbecue was a barbecue--it didn't really matter that it was a year old or that it had a scratch on the hood. It was secured using a couple of brightly-striped bungee cords that strained threateningly when wrapped around the big black monstrosity. Will stood with his
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Will awoke when Andrew stuck a mug of coffee under his nose. He cracked open a single eye and looked at the warm brown liquid that smelled amazing, and he closed his eyes again, a happy smile spreading across his face. The smile froze as a look of puzzlement replaced it, and Will opened his eyes again at the sun-drenched living room, the television going with the highlights... "Oh god!" he said, sitting upright and pulling the blanket closer about him. Brody and Jared were in the
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Sunday was a day Will would never forget. It had started out simply; he had gone through his customary morning ritual, leaving Andrew to sleep soundly in the bed as he showered and got dressed. As much as he wanted to just crawl back into bed with his boyfriend and be smothered with love, he had too much to accomplish that day. So instead he paused in the doorway of the bedroom, hand on the brass doorknob, just watching Andrew sleep off the effects of his drinking the night before.
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The Campus Pride center was humming with conversation when Andrew and Robyn walked in. A small man with round glasses was frantically waving papers as he swept from one desk to another in obvious frustration. Every so often he leaned over a computer to punch something into it, only to walk away from it in disgust a few seconds later. A large, old, pink couch was tucked back out of the way, the young man with the streak of white in his hair was busy talking was a pleasant young woman who
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It was a hot day, all Will had wanted to do was go home, but Andrew had been waiting in front of the school. Resting with his arms crossed leaning up against his car looking determined. It was a pleasant surprise, and on any other day Will would have been thrilled, but he was exhausted and mildly cranky from a long day. "What's going on?" he asked, tucking his satchel under his arm, as he walked up to his boyfriend. "Are you free to go to a meeting with me?" Andrew asked looking
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Will was sitting quietly in his classroom; it was his lunch hour, he was supposed to be out of there, done teaching his students for the day. But the high emotions of having to explain to a class of young teenagers that their teacher was dead; a woman that they had all known, sitting in the back of the class keeping an eye on them... it had been stressful for him. He blew out a sigh, sitting in the swivel chair behind his desk, two fingers lightly resting on his temple as he propped his
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His grandmother's call had him agitated; he'd spent some time with her over the past week, whenever school had permitted. And the supper with her and Andrew had gone over well; they seemed to get on well. Andrew, polite and formal around her, and she in turn had treated him no differently than any other prospective member of the family, which was to say she grilled him endlessly over his plans for the future. She even got a light in her eyes when Andrew said he wanted to be a lawyer. But
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Will was startled when he walked in the door. His long-suffering Uncle Arthur's truck had been in the driveway which wasn't unusual in of itself--Arthur routinely checked up on Will's progress and made sure his wardrobe was sufficiently filled. Arthur took particular pride in the way Will dressed, it was his personal way to get back at the Major, or so he told Will. Will just figured Arthur was a closet metro-sexual. Will was getting in after a long day; he had history homework to mark a
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