Life in a Northern Town - 1. Chapter 1

My high school is typical of those found in this area: under-funded, old, and tired. It’s a three story red brick with some other stone a little lighter in color used for contrast around the windows and such. The gym is in the back and the rest of the building is centered on the auditorium, which is on the ground floor. I tolerate school as a social convenience but, otherwise, have little use for it.

Thoughts of my school dissipate as I notice my friend Randy walking up the block, pack off to one side and head in the clouds like usual. He has always been a dreamer, preferring his nose in a book over of watching TV. Don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not some bookworm that does nothing but read who thinks he’s better than everyone else - he plays sports and video games and stuff, too. I just never have seen anyone who likes to read as much as he does. He and I became fast friends when I moved here five years ago and have been really tight since then.

Randy is a riot, always joking and fooling around. He is about five eight - he gets busted on some for that – has dirty blond hair and green eyes. He is well tanned and lean, muscled but not what you’d call built. He turns the girls' heads wherever he goes, dates a number of them but invariably fails to click and they break up in short order. I personally think he’s too good for the people around here – me included. I won't ever say that, though as it would make things awkward. We talk about everything except that one thing. He's been away all summer at his mom’s place in Florida so I haven’t even seen him in two and a half months! He called me up last night though to say hello and that he was back and all that stuff. It really means lots to me that he does those little things cause it shows he really does care, ya know? I know, I'm a pussy.

“What’re you daydreaming about this morning?” I ask as he approaches.

“Just wondering whether you’ll ever get laid,” he replies absently before bringing his sparkling eyes level with mine and smiling that killer smile that makes me forget what I was going to say.

“I missed you, man!” he says with a wide smile and gives me a quick hug, which brings me back from the land of Nod.

“I missed you too, although right now I can’t remember why!” I reply.

We both laugh and idly talk about our summers, take inventory of the new kids, cataloging them and of course making fun of them to each other. All in all a typical morning for us.

We arrive at school and separate to obtain our schedules. After weaving my way to the table with the large 'A-G' taped to it, I retrieve my schedule and meet back up with Randy.

“Adam, let’s see how many chances a day you'll have to get me in trouble this year,” he says while bumping me with his shoulder.

“Dude, you’ve got it backwards. You always get me in trouble!”

We grin and compare schedules. We shared the majority of our classes and even better; gym was one of them! You have no idea what Randy in running shorts does to me! He has these beautiful, creamy thighs and whenever he runs the muscle shakes and I think to myself 'those are the kind of thighs that turn guys gay'. We walk together to our first period class and take seats next to each other and continue to bullshit.

“Randy! Yo, dude! You’re in this class?” The voice belongs to Troy Sullivan, but I have no idea why he was so happy to see Randy – they aren't friends. Then again, it often seems like Troy lives in some imaginary land.

“No, man. I’m just sitting with my boyfriend, ya know?” comes Randy's saucy reply.

Troy stops in his tracks and looks at Randy, then realizes he's was joking. “Shit, you scared me there for a second, bro. Don’t need two queers in this school, they’ll take over!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“So where have you been?” Troy says, ignoring me.

“Troy, don’t be a dumbshit. What did you mean when you said two queers. Who?”

Troy looks momentarily hurt then brightens at the opportunity to trash someone else.

“There is a new kid, his name is Nick something. So check it out, he goes to the basketball clinic we had this summer, right? Probably cause his folks wanted the little fag to meet people, seem like he was normal, right? Anyway he popped a fuckin’ boner in the shower!” Troy shakes his head in wonder.

“Troy, you popped a rod in gym last year. What the fuck’s the big deal?” Randy points out sharply.

“Shh! Dude, no one saw anything. It can’t be proved, and anyway…you know, it was just the fabric rubbing and stuff cause I had to freeball it,” Troy replies quickly with a ridiculously obvious glance to see if anyone has heard.

“Oh, yeah, so why were you freeballing it again?” Randy says while rubbing his chin as if in deep thought. “Hmm, oh yeah! You thought you just had gas, that’s right! Look, Troy, leave the new kid alone, moving is tough enough without an asshole like you on his case, okay?”

“Fuck you, Randy! Why should I take orders from you?” Troy retorts, forgetting he'd been trying to impress Randy with his gossip.

“'Cause Adam here heard your confession - you shit yourself and then got a hard on in gym. That could be damaging, don’t you think?” Randy smiled sweetly.

“You’re a prick, Randy,” Troy replies, defeated.

“All right people, let’s settle down. Places, places. We don’t have all day. Ah, find a seat, will you young fellow? Yes you - the one standing up,” says the homeroom monitor.

A boy is confusedly standing in the aisle; Randy waves him over to an empty chair next to us. The kid hesitates and then moves over near us. Troy gives the kid a look and then sticks his foot out at the last second, tripping him. The boy stumbles and might have kept his feet except that his bag had been in front of him. Throwing his arms out to keep from falling had causes him to step on the bag, which he then awkwardly drops down on top of.

Troy laughs and looks around at the room as if he were truly something special. 'Special Ed', I think to myself.

Randy stands quickly and helps the kid to his feet and picks up his bag from the floor. A large wet spot that smells like yogurt was appears on one side, obviously something from the kid’s lunch.

Randy guides the kid to the empty desk and in doing so strategically turns, managing to solidly whack Troy in the head with the fragrant book bag, leaving a strawberry smear on the side of his head and matting his hair. Troy glares at Randy.

The kid forlornly takes his bag back from Randy and sits still trying to catch his breath. The teacher, oblivious to the scene now speaks:

“Do try to be more careful, Mr. Proctor; have a seat. Mr. Sullivan, are your brains leaking? If so, contain them post haste as you can ill afford to lose any. Now I will begin by…”

He is back to his speech. Randy sits then turns around and proffers his hand to the new kid. “I’m Randy Proctor, and this here,” he gestures at me, “is Adam Castle.”

The new kid tentatively reaches out to Randy’s offered hand and shake.

“I’m Nick,” he replies, with an accent I can't place. It's gentle and kind of sexy. Whoa.

He gracefully makes his way to the chair I had pointed out. Gracefully? When had I ever thought something or someone was graceful? Never, that's when. Nick sits down and brushes his fingers through his hair and gives me a weak, nervous smile. Well, who wouldn't be nervous, especially with Troy in here, and with the trouble that inevitably follows him? Not me, that's for sure. I smile reassuringly, and his grin widens and becomes more genuine. And he blushes. Aw, thats cute.

What? I feel my own flush building and face forward. What the hell is this? I just met this guy, hell I've barely even talked to him! I sit stock still, but my traitorous thoughts return to this fellow, now sitting next to me. How has he suddenly wormed his way into my head? Just like that, wham! I wonder if this is love? No, just lust I'll bet. I giggle to myself. Lust? This was a guy, hello! Randy is one thing, but this one, well, if it were true then I'd be gay, right?

The teacher steps out of the room to go next door for a misplaced book, and of course that is like opening Pandora's box. The usual loud talk starts and I slump in my seat just waiting for the inevitable return of the instructor who will be so surprised and outraged that this group of teenagers has gotten loud in his absence and acted like…teenagers.

The status quo is broken when Troy takes center stage by standing on his desk. I think they are willing to pay him attention because everyone wants to see him embarrass himself or someone else, since you have a fifty-fifty chance of either one happening. But this I wasn't ready for. He stands and announces loudly that someone at his basketball camp popped a woody in the showers. A quick glance at Nick's milk white face sends me into a panic. Oh, boy, think quickly.

"Troy, I thought you didn't want anyone to know you popped a rod, man." The room grew quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop, "But I'm really proud of you for coming out of the closet. You have more balls than I thought!" I smile condescendingly. I wasn't really thrilled with myself for making it sound like being gay was a bad thing, but I had to work to the level of my audience. The room erupts with jeers and catcalls, which are stifled by the return of the instructor.

Well that's the highlight of the day. At least until lunch.

Our lunchroom is on the third floor in the middle of the building. Randy and I meet up in the lunch line and start talking about occurrences throughout the day. Out of my four morning classes, I had two with Randy, and then will have three more in the afternoon. So far Nick has been in two as well. What? That doesn't mean anything!

We take our seats with the gruel du jour and Randy starts in about Nick.

"So what do you think of him?" he asks.

"He's okay, I guess. I haven't really spoken to him much or anything."

"He's from down South, you know, that's why he doesn't talk much. Sounds funny to us and probably embarrasses him."

"How do you know so much, huh?"

"I read the news, especially the political stuff."

I chew this for a moment, but fail to make a connection. What the hell does politics have to do with Nick? Maybe his family is into politics? I suppose that could be true. I am wondering about all of this, with nothing more than simple curiosity ruling my mind, I swear, when a tray clatters to the floor and a tussle starts a few tables away.

"Look, faggot, you better just watch where you're going or I'll fuckin' beat you. And not the way you'd like, either."

Randy is up and moving and, with a sigh, I follow. 'St. Randy', protector of all those who can't stay clear of people bigger than they are plows across the room, heedless of the spectators. My mood alters when I take in the scene. Troy has grabbed up Nick by the shirt and is stepping on the remaining food on the tray. I snap.

Troy is turned at a right angle to me and I lash out with my left foot in a vicious kick to the back of his right knee. As he starts to fall, his head whips around in surprise and I bring my fist around in a hay-maker and land it just beneath his left eye. Oh, that is gonna bruise.

Troy tries to recover and plants his left foot on the forgotten lunch tray, which skids suddenly out from under him with a little lube from the pizza grease, and some encouragement from Randy's sneaker. Troy goes down in a Technicolor rainbow of smashed food and humble pie. It is so cool - this is the new highlight of my day.

"Mr. Castle, I really was hoping you would avoid detention at least one day this year, but it isn't meant to be, is it?" comes the voice of my nemesis - and my mother's boyfriend - Bernard Swanson. 'Bernie' if you wanted to piss him off. And I do.

"Back off Bernie, you missed the show. It was his fault, I was just trying to stop him from harassing this new guy here," I say hotly, knowing I'm dead meat anyway.

"Come with me, Mr. Castle. Let's see to your arrangements."

I follow sullenly. This was so unfair! It's bad enough Bernie seems to know my every move before I make it, but then to go home and have to discuss it with him and my mother over dinner as well? Of all the guys, she had to pick him? We walk through the main office and then into his. I take a seat in front of his desk without being asked and he deposits himself behind his desk.

"Adam, what was going on?" he asks through steepled fingers.

"Does it really matter?" I ask bitterly.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact it does. It always does."

I look up at him and stare into his eyes. My dad used to say that someone was telling the truth if they could hold your gaze, nine times out of ten. He meets me eye for eye, and I decide to be honest and quit fucking with him.

"There is this new kid, Nick. Troy was picking on him; in fact he's been doing it since homeroom. Randy and I were only trying to stop him cause he dumped the kids' lunch he brought from home this morning, then he knocked his lunch tray out of his hands in the cafeteria. When we got there he had grabbed Nick up by the shirt collar. He was stepping on his food, deliberately. I snapped and I hit him. That's it."

Swanson leans back in his chair and appears deep in thought. I just figured it is 'cause he doesn't do it all that often. "Can anyone confirm your story?"

"Yeah, ask Randy. He was there."

"Randy Proctor?"

"Yeah."

“Who is this 'Nick' person? Who is he to you?”

“We just met this morning,” I reply with as much attitude as I dare. “Isn't it enough that he was getting harassed?”

He leans forward and looks at me, hard.

"Okay, I believe you. I'm going to cut you a break, but if this Troy kid keeps harassing this new fellow, you let me in on it, all right? I can do more than you think I can."

I look at him incredulously. He is letting me go? Suspicion flares in me and I ask, "So what are you going to tell Mom?"

"About what?" he asks.

I open my mouth and then realize his implication. Was he trying to buy me off? Well, it wouldn't work, but I should take what I can before he bails on me too, right? I stand and head out the door wordlessly and go to my next class.

Finally reaching the end of the day I trudge to my last class, which is gym. I head down for the coach's annual first-day lecture about fair play, building our bodies and all that crap. It is the same speech he'd been using since the dawn of time. Names, it proves, are not coach's strong suit.

"Okay, now,” Coach says, “When you come down, you get changed into your equipment. Then read the sign in the window of my office that tells you if we'll be going inside or outside that day. Don't be a smart ass and change the sign, half you idiots go one way and half you idiots go the other way and by the time I herd you all back together we won't get anything done. Now, you all listen for your names and respond 'equipment' if you're dressed out to participate, say 'here' if you're not. For today everyone has equipment and you will respond like that.

"Ok, Airplane? Uh, Airport? Aircraft? What is this name, anyway?"

"Ashcroft, coach."

"Oh, Ashcroft. You here?"

"Here, Coach."

"I said you tell me equipment, didn't I?"

"But only if were dressed out, you said."

"But for today, everyone…"

You get the idea. Randy and I stand off to one side and watch the antics of our coach, older than dirt was the rumor, and just shake our heads. We had brought our book bags with us so we wouldn't have to return to our lockers once school let out. When coach lets us go, we walk through student parking on our way to the front of the school. A quiet voice with a gentle southern lilt wafts over to us. Jesus, I am waxing poetic over his voice – I should hit something.

"Um, hey guys."

We turn as one and take in Nick walking gracefully - here we go again - across the lot in our general direction.

"Hey, Nick. What's up man?" Randy greet him.

Nick shrugs and stops in front of us. "I'd like to thank you guys for helping me today. I never thought this was going to be so hard."

"Who, Troy? Ah, we'll kick his ass any day, right Adam? Adam?"

Suddenly I get the feeling I have missed something, cause I am busy staring at - um I mean I was glancing at - uh, Nick.

"What?" I ask.

"Nice day out, huh?" Randy asks while grinning.

"What are you grinning at?" I ask. Did I sound defensive?

"I said we'd kick Troy's ass any day, since he's bothering our friend Nick here, huh?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course. Sure!" I respond. My palms are sweating. What?

"Y'all want a lift home? I could drop you off,” Nick asks. I fight to control a shiver up my spine.

"Cool, sure. C'mon, Adam."

Me? In that small space with Nick? I'm hot, is anyone else hot? I'm hot. I think I just developed claustrophobia. Instead I say, "Sure."