My Crimson Year - 2. Chapter 2

Or, that's what I thought, anyway. What at first seemed pretty plain and simple soon proved to have some hair on it. I mean, there was more to it than just having someone around that you could kiss and hug and suck off whenever you wanted. Love is more complicated than like. The closer you are to somebody, the more there is to consider. We both discovered that being that close required learning some new things about each other. It was fun to explore that, and I think we both surprised the other with some of the things that we said and admitted. Friends hide small things from each other that lovers tend to share.

The most important fact, though, was that we were in this thing together.

Love has two parts, we soon learned. Kind of like a horse and a wagon. The horse is all the stuff that drives the love - pulls it along, I guess. The wagon is the part where you and the guy you love sit, and get pulled along by the horse. You have to kind of take turns guiding that horse, so that no one gets hurt. And, sometimes, it's the horse that's driving, and neither of the guys sitting back in the wagon.

A few weeks went by, and Donnie and I went a little nuts with each other. We had a lot of sex, imitating the stuff we had both seen online. We learned that you have to be careful with teeth, and that there is a limit to how long you can have a boner before it just plain hurts the next day, and that sticking that boner where the sun don't shine takes patience and practice to do right. And we learned that love and friendship go together really well, but that they're not always the same thing.

But the love did not go away, or wear down. Sometimes, wanting something is a lot better than having it, and after you get your hands on what you've been drooling over, the fun of it takes a walk. That did not happen with this. I loved Donnie more than ever as the days went by. We laughed a lot, and we touched all the time, and we never went anywhere unless we were together. And all that time we thought we were being discreet about it, too.

So, it was inevitable that someone would notice.

That was Greg Batner, who might possibly have been my best friend if Donnie hadn't beaten him to it. Greg was on the team, a safety, and he was lightning on two legs. He had an inch on me and Donnie both, and I don't mean just in height. As a great practitioner of the locker room sneaky peek, I had watched him more than once in the shower, and Greg had a dong that would likely someday be great.

He also had hair under his arms, was prone to pimples on his forehead, and owned a boundless curiosity that expressed itself in noticing a lot of shit that others would prefer he didn't.

And he was as crazy as a bedbug in a drug addict's sleeping bag.

"So," he said one afternoon, as we were walking home from practice, crossing through the big field where the Myersons had used to grow corn, "you guys are gay, huh?"

"Hey, fuck you, Batner," Donnie immediately said, and I had to reach out and grab his arm, because he looked like he might do something stupid.

Greg was not fazed. He knew Donnie as well as I did...okay, not quite as well as I did, but you get my meaning. Greg had been hanging with Donnie and me since fourth grade. Greg was a straight up guy, not the type to fuck with your head except in play. It could be hard to tell, because he played all the time. But if you spoke serious, he would, too. I trusted him almost as much as I trusted Donnie.

Greg grinned. "I always thought you guys were joined at the hip, but I always figured it was just a deformity, not a new sexual position."

Donnie looked at me, and I could see the fear underneath the anger he was wearing.

I laughed at Greg. "Funny. As long as you wanna be an ass, you can kiss mine for practice."

Greg looked at me a moment, and then shook his head. "I'm serious, Andy. I'm not the only one that's noticed."

I kind of felt that fear myself now. "What's that mean?"

Greg sighed. "Look, you guys - we're friends, right? I'm not a gay-basher. My cousin Rich is as fruity as a bowl of breakfast cereal. But I still care about him." He nodded. "Someone fucks with Rich over who he is, they better know they have to deal with me." He looked around, made sure no one was looking, and then reached out and gave my shoulder a fond pat. "I feel the same way about you guys."

I looked at Donnie, and he gave a little shake of his head. Don't tell him. I looked back at Greg. "What have you heard?"

Greg shrugged. "Heather asked me if I saw the way you two were acting. Some of the other girls were talking about it. Heather didn't come right out and say gay, but she said enough so I got what she meant."

Heather Dees was Greg's almost girlfriend. They hung out together on and off, but even Greg admitted that he'd only kissed her and felt her tits. "I had already noticed you guys bein' extra dreamy with each other, but I guess I just didn't want to see more. I mean, you guys are on the team, and neither of you act really gay - mostly." He grinned, unable not to toss in the dig. "And I know you two go way back. I just thought maybe you were watchin' porn together, or jerkin' together, or something secret. Same as Curt and Billy used to do."

I felt my eyebrows go up at the mention of Greg's older brothers. "Curt and Billy used to jerk each other?"

"Yeah. And they acted all stupid about it, too, because they had this big secret together. But now they got girls. Jerkin' doesn't mean you're gay." He leaned closer. "So...are ya?"

I looked at Donnie again, and could see the indecision in his eyes. Neither of us wanted the little paradise we'd discovered together to be ruined by others. This had to be fixed somehow.

Greg probably saw that we couldn't decide. He sighed again. "Look, if it was just Heather and me, I wouldn't say anything. But I heard Dickie Ranshaw telling Pete Nicks that you two were sweethearts. They were laughing about it."

Shit. Every school has its squad of complete fucktards. Dickie and Pete were some of ours.

"They can't know anything," I protested. "They're just being jerks."

Greg frowned. "You know how talk is, Andy. It gets rolling, and people believe it." He shrugged. "And like I said, I can see the way you guys act, too."

"How do we act?"

The frown turned to a grin. "Serious? You guys don't ever get more than a foot apart anymore. And when you look at each other, it's like all these little lights are flashing, and a voice is screaming kiss me!" The last two words were delivered in a high-pitched, girlish voice.

I couldn't believe we had been so careless. How could we have not seen this? I felt an impulse to try to bull my way through. "Even if it was true, there's gay people in school. So the fuck what?"

Greg nodded. "I agree with you. I just want to know what to do and say if I hear people talking. If you guys are keeping this quiet, I'm going to tell people they're full of shit if I hear them talking, and say that I've known you guys a long time, and it ain't true. I just don't want to be going around doing that if you guys plan to let it out. I'd look stupid then."

Donnie opened his mouth to say something, a grin tugging at his lips, but I immediately stuck a finger in his face. "Don't say anything else nasty. Greg's trying to help."

Greg and I both laughed at the expression of disappointment that crawled over Donnie's features.

"So, it's true?" Greg asked again.

I looked at Donnie, and he just shrugged. "I don't know what to do."

Neither did I. Greg had been our friend for a long time, and I didn't think he'd sell us out. I looked at him, into his eyes, and all I could see was the same straight up guy I'd always dealt with.

"Yeah," I said then. "It's true."

"Andy!" Donnie looked at me like he didn't believe I'd said it.

Greg just nodded. "I already knew, Donnie. Don't sweat it. I'm not telling anyone. Not even Heather." He frowned. "Now, what are you going to do about the rumors? Deny them if they come up, or just say fuck it, and let it all hang out?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I looked at Donnie. "I'm sorry. I just felt like we needed some help with this."

Surprisingly, Donnie just nodded. "It's okay." He turned to Greg. "You swear you won't blab?"

Greg actually looked sympathetic. "I won't. You two are my best friends." He grinned then. "So...you guys tasted each other's fapple juice yet?"

Donnie and I looked at each other, and we both burst out laughing. Greg had always been a freak. Just...not about us.

Greg looked from Donnie to me, and nodded. "That would be a big yes." He leaned forward, his eyes shining. "What's that like?"

I leaned closer to him, grinning. "What, are you gay or something?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Doesn't mean I'm not interested when my two best friends are sharing body heat."

That was kind of sobering. The warmth of Donnie's skin against mine was one of the things I always loved to experience most.

I couldn't help looking annoyed. "Look, Greg, this is some serious shit between me and Donnie, okay? I mean, you can kid some, just as long as you know that."

Told you Greg was always straight up. He looked at both of us, and nodded, and I really could see that he understood. "Okay, I get that." He smiled. "It's just a new idea, right? We've been a squad a long time, and" --he actually looked surprised-- "I ain't sure I like being the extra guy here."

Donnie looked at me, and grinned. "We haven't tried a threesome yet."

I laughed, but Greg actually took a step back from us and raised his hands. "Yeah, I don't think so." But his eyes were smiling, and I knew he knew we were kidding.

It was actually kind of fun to be out in the open with someone. Nothing quite puts a damper on love than the feeling that there is something unacceptable about it. Greg didn't give the slightest indication that he was anything but on our side about this.

I gave him an appraising look. "Take both of us to handle that monster of yours, anyway."

Donnie slapped his thigh and pumped out a belly laugh, and Greg looked surprised. "What, ya been peepin'?"

I shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for lookin'".

Greg's face colored, just a little, but I could see that he wasn't really upset about it. Instead, he turned his backside towards us and smoothed a hand down the outside of his jeans. "I got a nice ass, too, don't ya think?"

"I always liked it," Donnie said, getting into the spirit of things now. "Gonna make some guy happy, someday."

We all laughed. It was a much-needed tension breaker, and when I looked at Donnie again I could see he had relaxed.

But I had to ask Greg. "Have you ever thought of being with a guy before?"

The smile kind of just slid off his face. "Seriously? You won't get mad at me?"

Donnie and I looked at each other. "I won't," Donnie promised.

I let my eyes go back to Greg. "I won't, either."

He nodded, and I could see him working up to it. "Well...I've kinda wondered what it would be like to do stuff...with both of you guys, at one time or another."

Donnie's mouth dropped open, and he looked at me, his eyes wide with amazement. I was pretty stunned myself. "What?"

Greg's grin came back. "Hey, it was before I discovered girls. It was just a passin' thing."

Donnie moved closer to my side. "Both of us at different times, or both of us together?"

I gave him an affectionate little push, and he grinned at me.

"Different times," Greg said quickly, looking slightly alarmed at the idea of group sex. An embarrassed smile came and went. "Yeah. Um...you're both, uh, not hard to look at."

Donnie bent over and sank to his knees, laughing. I didn't want to embarrass Greg further, so I remained standing and laughed. I could have rolled on the ground, though. The truth was, the occasional pimple on the forehead notwithstanding, I had always liked the way that Greg looked. Now I grinned at him. "You're kinda cute, too."

That did it. Greg's face reddened nicely, but he just shook his head and clamped his lips tightly together, trying not to laugh.

"Okay," he finally said. "Okay. But I was being honest when I asked what it was like to...you know."

"Suck dick?" Donnie said, and I gave him a surprised little laugh. Once Donnie got into something, he got into it all the way.

Greg rolled his eyes, but laughed. "Yeah."

Donnie seemed to think about it a moment, and then he smiled at me. "It's pretty wonderful."

I smiled back, just wanting to grab him then and there, and hold him close. Instead, I looked at Greg and nodded. "Yup."

He looked from me to Donnie and back again, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I kinda get that it's special because there's some feelings involved."

Greg was going to go a long way in this world. "That would be true, yes," I agreed.

He frowned. '"You just swallow it down?"

Donnie snorted out another laugh, and I was doing my best not to go, too. "That's how it works," I forced out.

Greg waited a moment for us to calm down. "Be serious a minute, okay?"

Donnie and I touched eyes again, but I made an effort to get control. "Sorry. What do you want to know?"

"I told you," Greg said quietly. "What is it like?"

Damn. He was serious.

I shrugged. "Ever taste your own spaff?"

Greg looked around quickly, like maybe we had acquired an audience. No one was about. "Well...yeah."

"What'd you think of it?"

Greg wrinkled his nose. "It didn't make me gag, but it's not that great."

I shrugged. "I've tasted mine, and I agree with you." I looked at Donnie. "Donnie tastes a lot better than me."

Donnie's eyes widened. "Shit. You taste way better than I do."

I grinned at him, and looked back at Greg. "I think a lot of it is how you feel about the guy." I considered that myself, and had a slight epiphany. "Yeah. I mean, I don't want to fool around with every guy I know, not by a long shot. And there's guys I know, I wouldn't suck 'em off for a million dollars."

Donnie nodded. "Yeah. Like Dickhead Ranshaw."

I shivered at the idea of that one. "Absolutely."

Greg cleared his throat. "I can see that. There's plenty of girls out there that don't interest me." He grinned. "Hell, there's a few you couldn't pay me to get near." He winked. "I'd rather sleep with either one of you than Carla Diffenderfer."

Donnie and I both shuddered. Carla was really nice, but utterly scary in a physical sense. Maybe if she bathed more than once a year, and her teeth weren't green, and her clothes didn't smell like a dumpster...

Donnie laughed. "Sure you don't want a boyfriend, Greg?"

A new thought occurred to me. Greg had just said he'd sleep with one of us before Carla. "Are you bi, maybe?"

"I don't think so," Greg said. His answer came too quickly and without any sign of reservations to not feel like a true answer to me. He licked his lips, and looked around again. "Back when I kind of thought about doing shit with you guys, I kinda considered tasting a dick." He shrugged. "Now I just wanna dip my tongue in some cooter, I think."

"You sure?" I asked. Something sounded off here, but it was not like Greg to lie. This was getting too complicated. "I don't know what to tell you then." I looked at Donnie, and he smiled at me. That inspired some new thoughts. "You ever lay in a bed with Heather?" I redirected to Greg.

He nodded. "Well, kinda. She and I have laid in the hammock together in my backyard a few times."

"How does that feel?" I asked.

The expressions that crossed Greg's face told me how it felt before he even opened his mouth. "Aw, shit. It feels...it feels great. I mean..." He sighed.

I nodded. "Now imagine if you were both naked."

Greg laughed. "I already have." He looked around again, and then dropped a hand and patted the front of his jeans. "Makes me horny as a motherfucker."

I grinned. "Makes you wanna do more stuff with her, doesn't it? Touch her, and kiss her, and maybe some other stuff?"

"Yup. No doubt about that."

"That's how it is for Donnie and me," I told him.

He watched us for a whole ten seconds, and I could see him thinking about it. Then he nodded. "It just is, isn't it? I mean, you don't pick to be the way you are. I see it now. Either a guy looks beautiful to you, or he doesn't."

I had to agree with that. I looked over at Donnie, at the light in his blue eyes, and the way they looked back at me, at his smile, and all the things I liked about his face. He was beautiful, yes. To me, anyway.

"Yeah."

Greg sighed. "I kinda envy you guys. I mean, I really like Heather, and I think about what we might do together sometimes - but I'm not in love with her."

"Someday you will...I mean, love somebody," I said. "I'm sure that's gonna happen."

Greg nodded, but didn't look like he shared my certainty about it.

We walked on, into a changed world. Having someone know about Donnie and me - that we loved each other - gave what we had a whole new flavor. I kind of marveled at the way it felt now, almost as if someone had patted me and Donnie both on the back, smiled, and said very seriously, "I'm happy for you." I kind of got what it was that made the change, too. Greg didn't come right out and say he approved of us, but his attitude was a long way from condemnation. That it wasn't going to be a friendship breaker was pretty obvious.

Stupid, huh? I didn't know yet how I wanted to handle this - keep it just for Donnie and me, or let the whole world in on it. Donnie kept knockin' his hand against mine as we walked, and then grinning at me when I looked over, and I knew he was thinkin' about it, too.

I can take a lot of heat. If people got on me about being gay, I'd deal with it. But Donnie doesn't always deal with stuff so well. He would be hurt, and he would be angry, and he would be miserable.

And I loved him too much to have him endure that.

So, as we walked on, and Greg and Donnie joked back and forth, I was trying to figure out a way to either get Donnie to accept being out, or get the world to leave us the hell alone.

Either way we went, it didn't look easy.

* * * * * * *

Our bus driver, Mrs. Hinkie, is a one-of-a-kind. She used to be a marine, I'd heard, and she was tough enough that the idea was perfectly believable. The whole story went that she had driven a tank in Iraq, and had run it straight through the mansion of the dictator, Sodamn Insane, while he was lounging in his bathtub. I never believed any of it, and that shit all happened before I was born, even. But you never really know, and it pays to be safe. The story also said that her tank had thrown a tread while knocking the mansion down, and that Mrs. Hinkie had climbed out and held up the back end while the rest of the crew fixed it. You hear stupid shit like this and you just know some doink she had snapped at had way too little on his mind, and tried to fill in the gaps by making up stuff to get back at her.

Truth was, Mrs. Hinkie did look like she might have been a marine, and that she might be able to hold up the ass end of a tank. She was a short, round woman, with a perpetual frown, curly brown hair liberally mixed with gray, and really intense blue eyes. And not the sweet, sky-blue eyes that Donnie had, but these kind of gray-blue, iceberg eyes, and she didn't miss much with them, either. She had big arms and tiny feet, and she wrestled bus number 536 around like it was nothing.

Donnie and I always respected her, just because that was the way we were raised, and not because the story also said she could break a guy's neck with a single blow.

There was this long mirror above her that let her see everything behind her, and I could always feel her eyes, watching. She had a short fuse for stupid shit, and a certain set of rules that she expected to be obeyed. Obeyed to the letter.

Donnie and Greg and I, and Michelle Parker, were the first bus stop, and Donnie and I liked to take the same seat in the back on the driver's side, while Greg would sprawl in the one across from us. The bus was never more than half full, so it wasn't like we ever had to share.

We were all talking about the last game against the Bucks, and not really paying attention to the stops and people getting on. Greg was sitting forward in his seat, his arms spread across the back of the seat in front of him, describing the winning play to Jeremy Hammerslaw, who had missed the game because he had to go see his Uncle Fred, who was in the merchant marine and only got home twice a year.

Donnie and I had plenty of seat, but somehow we were still shoulder-to-shoulder, and I was leaning towards Greg, grinning at the way that he was telling the story, and Donnie was kind of leaning against me. The seat in front of us was often empty, and was that day, too, as all the little cliques tended to stay together. So, I noticed when, as we pulled up at a stop sign, Dickie Ranshaw propelled himself up out of his seat seven aisles ahead and came towards us. We made eye contact, and I could just tell by his expression that he was up to no good.

He looked over his shoulder quickly as he approached us, but Mrs. Hinkie was bent forward, trying to see oncoming traffic from the left. Dickie slid into the seat in front of us, grinning, and I let my eyes go for a moment to where he had been sitting. His buddies, Pete Nicks and Hank Snowden, were both turned our way, grinning and watching.

"Hi fellas," Dickie said, in an overly-friendly tone. "What's happenin'?"

Dickie Ranshaw was about our size, with brown hair cut in a perpetual crew, and actually very pleasant features. We'd grown up together, and we'd had the occasional run in, but for the most part he had never bothered me. In my present state of mind, I might even have thought he was cute, except for the fact that I knew what an A-league asswipe he was. When he smiled you could see that he had one tooth that was slightly out of line with the others, and I predicted that there would be a lot more of them in that condition by the time he was an adult. His nature was predatory, and infuriating, and only the fact that he was not bigger kept him from being truly dangerous.

"What do you want, Ranshaw?" Donnie asked, irritation plain in his voice.

Dickie played at being shocked. "Is that any way to talk to a customer?" he asked, leaning back and digging into his pocket. He produced a handful of change, and dug out two nickels. "I'm here so you guys can make some money."

Donnie and I looked at each other.

Greg leaned over then. "You should go back to your seat, monkey, before someone takes a poke at you."

Greg was not an aggressive guy, but he did have an understanding with the rest of the school: you don't bother me, and I won't bother you. The few guys that had disrespected that edict had found themselves getting up off the floor. Greg's speed of movement on the football field held true in other areas of movement as well.

Ranshaw was the type that caused trouble, but usually managed to keep from having it come back on him. He'd never really been hurt, and so he still thought he was unbreakable.

"This ain't your business, Batner. Take a seat."

He turned his gaze back to us, and held up the two nickels. "Is this enough?"

"Enough for what?" I asked.

He tossed a quick look back at his buddies, who were all smiles, and then leaned forward again. "Well, I heard you two were giving blowjobs. And seein' as how I like my rod polished as much as anybody else --"

Donnie came up out of the seat so fast it made me jump. His fist pumped out and connected with Dickie's cheek. The two nickels went flying, and Dickie flopped back out of the seat onto the floor.

The bus lurched, and suddenly pulled over onto the shoulder of the road. I looked up as air sighed into the braking system, and then Mrs. Hinkie was levering herself up out of her seat. She started back to us, her face looking anything but happy.

Dickie sat up, looking amazed, his hand going to his cheek, his eyes wide. "Fuck. That hurt!"

I couldn't help it; I started laughing. So did Greg. Donnie, who had sat back down, simply glared. "Fuck you, Ranshaw."

Mrs. Hinkie arrived then. "What's going on here? Mr. Ranshaw, why are you on my floor?"

Dickie looked up at her, let his eyes come back to us, then returned them to the driver. "Um, I fell out of the seat."

"You fell out?" Mrs. Hinkie wasn't that stupid. She looked at us. "What happened?"

Donnie and I exchanged quick glances. "Um, I wasn't looking," Donnie said.

I licked my lips. "I didn't see, either."

Mrs. Hinkie, narrowed her eyes, then looked at Dickie. "What are you doing back here, Mr. Ranshaw? You know the rule about no movement while the bus is in motion."

I could see the little sparks shooting off behind Dickie's eyes as he thought fast. "Um, I dropped a coupla' nickels and they rolled back here."

"And you risked injury for ten cents? Are you kidding me?"

Dickie looked around on the floor, spotted one of the nickels, and grabbed it up. "Here's one of them." He held it up so that Mrs. Hinkie could see.

Mrs. Hinkie suddenly bent down, squinting. "What happened to your face? It's bruising up even as I look at it."

Dickie actually gulped, his eyes straying to Donnie. "I think I hit it on the corner of the seat when I fell."

Mrs. Hinkie, to her credit, looked concerned. "Are you okay. Does it hurt?"

Dickie swallowed again, his gaze going back to Donnie. There was a puzzled look in his eyes, as if he still couldn't get that Donnie had leveled him. "Yeah. It does hurt."

The bus driver nodded. "Can you get up? Please do so now."

Dickie got to his feet, his fingers dabbing gently at the bruise forming under his eye.

"You will go directly to the nurse when we get to the school," Mrs. Hinkie announced. "And then I will have to file an accident report."

"I'm okay," Dickie said, frowning.

Mrs. Hinkie stood back as far as she could, and indicated that Dickie should pass her. "Go back to your seat, please."

Dickie fired one last look at us, and it held a promise. Just of what...I wasn't certain.

Mrs. Hinkie watched as Dickie went back to his seat, and then turned to us. "Nice right, Mr. Blydon," she said quietly.

I heard Donnie gasp, but Mrs. Hinkie was even then heading back up to the front of the bus.

Greg laughed briefly through his nose, but was doing his best to keep a straight face. As Mrs. Hinkie passed beyond Dickie, Dickie turned and gave us a look, and raised his fist at us. Well, now I knew what sort of promise it was.

"Fuck him," I heard Greg whisper. He grinned openly now. "She saw."

I couldn't believe it, either. "Sure sounds like it." I looked at Donnie. "You okay?"

Donnie nodded. He reached down, out of sight of the rest of the bus, and squeezed my hand. "I'm not takin's shit from anybody, Andy. I'm just letting you know now."

I nodded. "I got your back."

For the barest moment, Donnie looked scared. But then he compressed his lips together, forced a smile, and nodded.

The rest of the trip to school seemed quiet, with the engine beneath us seeming louder than usual. Dickie had his head together with Pete, while Hank hung over the back of the seat before them, listening to them, but occasionally shooting us a glance. I was already getting irritated with the three of them, and had half a mind to just walk up there and tell them where to get off. But...Donnie was riled up enough as it was. I didn't want him to go off again. The way he had reacted to Dickie's simpleminded taunt told me that he was running on fear and anger, and that was always a bad combination for Donnie.

So, I just sat there, occasionally squeezing Donnie's hand, until we arrived at the school. Mrs. Hinkie pulled the bus into a spot and killed the engine, and people began filing off.

As Dickie passed her, she told him she was going to check to make sure he had actually gone to the nurse, so he had better do it. Dickie frowned, but nodded.

"Just a second, you two," Mrs. Hinkie said to Donnie and I, as we came up to the front. She waved a hand at Greg. "You can go, Mr. Batner."

Greg gave us a supportive look, and left the bus.

Mrs. Hinkie reached over and swung the door shut. She looked at Donnie. "Hand hurt?"

Donnie looked at it. "A little."

She nodded. "I've been driving a school bus for 34 years, gentleman. In that time, I have known a number of members of the Ranshaw clan. Dickie's older brothers are on my high school run even now, and the one they call Birdie is another piece of work. The fact is, I drove the elder Ranshaw - Dickie's dad - to school for four years when he was young, and that is why we are having this conversation. Like father, like sons. Dickie's dad was a pure shithead, too."

I couldn't help it, but I laughed. It was the way that Mrs. Hinkie said it, absolutely straight-faced. Donnie grinned at me, and I had to restrain myself from squeezing his hand.

"I like kids," Mrs. Hinkie went on. "Which was why I started driving a bus all those years ago. But I have seen a few really nasty ones in my time, too." She nodded at us. "You two have been riding with me since you were little, and I've never had a problem with either of you. Want to tell me what happened back there?"

Donnie's smile disappeared. "Not really."

The driver's eyes settled on me. "How about you?"

I knew she had seen what had happened, in her mirror. That alone could have gotten Donnie in trouble. But it seemed that Mrs. Hinkie was of a mind not to cause any. That made me feel like we owed her something. She was looking out for Donnie.

My Donnie.

"Ranshaw said something cruddy to us. If Donnie hadn't hit him first, I probably would have."

She shook her head. "I don't need to know what. I suspected it was not nice, to get such a reaction from two quiet kids like you." She gave a little sigh. "I don't actually think that Mr. Ranshaw was hurt, any more than he deserved to be. But I cannot have this kind of thing happening on my bus, okay?"

Donnie nodded, and so did I. "Sorry," I said.

Mrs. Hinkie's eyes moved back and forth between us. "Now that I know there is friction between you, I can promise you that Mr. Ranshaw will not be coming back to visit you again. He gets up one more time while this bus is moving, he can walk to school for the rest of the year."

Donnie gave a little snort, probably imagining that. It made me grin, too.

Mrs. Hinkie gave us a pointed look. "So, no more smacking stupid people on my bus?"

Donnie smiled. "I promise."

"Me, too," I said, when she looked at me.

"Okay, you can go." She reached over and swung the handle, opening the side door.

We turned to get off the bus, but then Donnie stopped. He looked at me a moment, bit his lip, then moved around me to face Mrs. Hinkie. "Can I ask you something?"

The woman nodded. "Shoot."

"Um...what did you do before you drove a bus?"

I swear to god that Mrs. Hinkie almost smiled. It came and went really fast, but I saw it, and I couldn't help getting big-eyed in amazement.

"I was a secretary for an insurance company," she said. "Why do you want to know?"

Donnie shrugged, looking a little disappointed. "Oh...I dunno. I was just curious." He forced a smile. "That sounds like an okay job."

Mrs. Hinkie nodded. "It was. Much better than driving a tank."

Donnie gave a startled laugh and looked over at me. I couldn't help giving out a grin.

Mrs. Hinkie's eyes shined a little then, and she raised a finger and pointed at them. "These work, fellas." Then she moved the finger over and tapped her ear lobe. "And these do, too." For a moment those iceberg eyes of hers seemed actually warm. Then she looked at her watch, and waved her hand at us. "You'd better hurry or you'll be late for homeroom. Just remember one thing, okay?"

Donnie and I both nodded. "Yeah, no more fighting," Donnie said.

She nodded. "That, too. But what I was going to say is that people like Mr. Ranshaw don't usually forget when someone shows them up. Watch your back, okay?"

Good advice. I intended to heed it, too.

* * * * * * *

Another couple of weeks went by. Dickie and his squad avoided us, both on the bus and at school. Donnie was tense about it at first, because, like me, he knew that it was the quiet before the storm, and that those assholes were planning some way to get back at us. My sister was the first to ask me what was up, maybe noticing that I was quieter than usual, and attuned to me enough to know worry when she saw it.

Unlike some of my friends, who continually fought with their older sisters, Dottie and I got along pretty well. She was two grades ahead of me, and went to the high school. We had our moments, like every brother and sister since the start of the race; but most of the time we supported each other pretty well. Nothing like family, right?

I explained that Donnie and I had had a run-in with Dickie Ranshaw, without going into detail. Dottie rode the same bus with Mrs. Hinkie to high school, along with Baird and Preston Ranshaw - Dickie's older brothers. Baird - called Birdie as a play on his name, was every bit the rip-roaring asshole that his little brother was. Preston, called Ox, probably because he was huge, was an extreme contrast, however. Dottie would curl her lip when she mentioned Birdie, but I had already noticed that she was one of the few people that called Preston by his true name.

"He's adopted, or something," she'd once told me.

"Huh?" I'd asked. "Why do you say that?"

"For one, he doesn't look like the rest of his family. They're all gangly and brown-haired like the dad, and Preston has black hair and is built like a weight-lifter. And, he's nice." She'd laughed then. "And, there's no such thing as a nice Ranshaw. So, he has to be adopted."

Girls go by a different logic than us guys, but in this case I kind of agreed with her. A Ranshaw that didn't cause trouble was as rare as a bald-eagle that could fly backwards.

She looked at me carefully. "This have anything to do with your friendship with Donnie?"

I felt an immediate sense of alarm. What could she know? It must have showed on my face. She sighed, came forward and wrapped me in a totally unexpected hug. "I love you, Andy. And I also know you very well."

I looked up at her. "What does that mean?" I breathed.

She looked down into my eyes, and I could read her like a book. She knew.

How?

She was my sister.

She lifted a hand, touched the end of my nose with a finger, and then kissed me on the forehead. "You can always talk to me."

I couldn't quite find my voice at first, and when I did it sounded hoarse. "What should I do, sis?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Not yet, anyway. At some point you might want to tell mom and dad."

"I don't know if I can do that," I said immediately. Talk about some scary shit there!

She shrugged. "Better from you than from someone else."

I could only sigh at that. That it was true was so apparent that it could not be ignored. "Maybe. Eventually."

"I'll be there with you, if you want." She smiled. "I think they'll take it better than you think."

I nodded. "Dottie? You think...you think there's something wrong with me?"

She gave a little laugh. "You really want to ask me that, after we've grown up together?"

I felt my cheeks get warm. "You know what I mean."

She looked into my eyes, and slowly nodded. "Yes. I know what you mean. And no. I do not think there is anything wrong with you."

I sighed. "Then why did this happen to me?"

She looked thoughtful. "Who knows? I'll tell you one thing, though: I was not that surprised when I realized it."

I gaped at her. "Why not?"

"Aw, Andy." She brought up a hand and rubbed my cheek. "I saw years ago that you loved Donnie. And that he loved you. You two are inseparable. Sometimes, things that happen now start way back, and just slowly catch up with us."

That seemed an incredibly smart point of view to me, and I realized that she was right. Donnie had always been the center around which my life revolved. That this was happening now should have surprised me least of all.

"What should I do about Ranshaw?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Wait and see. The worst thing that can happen might be that people will become aware. Other than that, everything else will just go on as usual."

"I think some people know already," I said dismally.

"I think so, too. And nothing has happened yet, right?"

Somehow, that was not quite as reassuring as she probably meant it to be. The fear that everyone I know would suddenly find out that I was in love with Donnie Blydon felt like this huge weight hanging over my head.

I think she was quiet so that I could think about it, and I couldn't help doing that.

I went back over my own words, the ones I had just thought a moment ago. I was in love with Donnie Blydon. That made me smile. I was in love with Donnie. I could see his face in my head, and it filled me with a good feeling. I...loved...Donnie.

I always had, too.

And no matter what came next, I would still be in love with Donnie. He would still be there, and he would need me, and so I had to be there for him. Folding up and hiding was not an option.

And, really, what was I afraid of? I was scared of what people would think, and what they would say, and what they would do. I was scared of trouble, and embarrassment, and being treated like an outcast.

But...if I could, would I trade my love for Donnie away, to avoid all those things?

The answer was clear. No. I would not trade Donnie away for anything.

Dottie was watching me, and maybe she saw my decision. "Have you talked to anyone else about this?" she asked.

I nodded. "Just Greg."

"And did he disown you?"

I smiled. "No."

"Have I disowned you?"

My smile expanded. "Not yet."

She laughed, and squeezed me. "Andy, a lot of people in this neighborhood like you. Donnie, too. Way more people like the two of you, than don't."

I felt my eyes get wider. "You know some that don't?"

She made a little face. "Well, Dickie Ranshaw, I'm assuming. Maybe some of that loser crowd he hangs out with. Do you feel like they count?"

I drew in a long breath, let it out slowly. With that came a feeling of certainty. "No. They don't count."

Me and Dottie have never been real huggers or kissers, but she sure was holding onto me then. She gave me a nice squeeze, which was really pretty comforting. "I think it's probably worse if everybody suspects, but doesn't know," she continued. "It will make them uncomfortable around you. And if you guys keep right on hiding it, people will think you're ashamed of it - that it's wrong. My opinion, for what it's worth, is that you let people know, and that you and Donnie are happy with what you have."

I felt like crying, but I didn't. Instead, I just hugged my sister, and thanked her. I would never forget that talk, or those moments together. My thinking had changed.

I talked with Donnie about my conversation with Dottie. At first, he seemed upset that someone else knew, but as we talked he started to see things a little differently. I pointed out that several people now knew for a fact about us and had not kicked us to the curb, and that there apparently were a lot of people who suspected. We had not missed the whispered conversations, or the looks, or even the few embarrassed smiles that even some of our best friends had been giving us.

Even the team had been acting weird around us, with guys we had known for years suddenly seeming distant. Not hostile, just distant. It hadn't affected our play, or theirs, but it had made us feel less like teammates and more like some kind of visiting players. It was uncomfortable, and Donnie and I both had worried about it, without addressing its cause.

Mr. Duncan, our coach, had seemed to have his eye on us a lot more often than usual, and I sometimes caught him watching Donnie and I when we were together, with just that look in his eye that people wear when they are wondering about you. But he hadn't said anything, or acted any different towards Donnie and I. The only thing, other than Mr. Duncan's eyes, that gave away the fact that he might know about us was the number of comments he had made lately about how well we all played together as a team. And he had emphasized, more than once, that a team looked out for its own.

Talk. It was all a result of talk. Talk, and an uncertainty on the part of those hearing that talk on how to act around us. Uncertainty was a wedge that I could see was driving slowly but surely between Donnie and me and the rest of the world. And it would only get worse the longer we did nothing about it.

We'd tried acting less interested in each other, walking farther apart, tried to control the way we acted around each other. It didn't work. The talk was out, and people were watching. And the simple fact that Donnie and I were always together overpowered any pretense we made about not being together. And we could not not be together. We just couldn't.

Yet with all that talk going on about us, no one but Dickie had actually said anything to us. What did that say about things? According to Dottie, it was a good sign, not a bad one.

There were guys in school I felt were gay. Not a lot of them, and none were doing anything that said they were gay. But sometimes a look, or a smile, or a comment, gave away far more than someone wanted to give, or realized they had given. Interest is hard to miss, and I had seen enough of it from Donnie to know exactly what it looked like. There were guys that showed that interest on their faces when they surely didn't mean to, because when it was there it was guys they were looking at or talking to, not girls.

And there's always some guys that are slightly effeminate, or considered pussies, or just acted like total nerds. There were always a couple of creepers, too, just really weird guys. All of them at one time or another had been called, "You fag!"

But it did not make them really gay.

The ones that I suspected actually were gay kept things very carefully under wraps. Mostly.

Miles Dillis, who had been in the middle school with us last year, had admitted to everyone that he was gay. There had been some unpleasant talk, and of course a lot of it was started by Dickie Ranshaw and his bunch. But Miles had kind of tossed it off, gone on about his business, and only a few of the bullying types had persisted. And after Dave Mackenzie had been suspended for two weeks for bullying Miles, that pretty much stopped, too. And now Miles was in high school, and had friends, and had moved on. His life wasn't pleasant every day of the week, but at least he had a life he enjoyed.

Shit, that's any kid.

And the thing was, Miles was out. People knew. And they had gotten over it.

Marla Powers and Jackie Caplan were the school's first openly gay female couple. They had had virtually no problems with that, except for a few guys bemoaning the loss of the two from the pool of available girls, because both of them were acknowledged to be hot. Girls seemed to have a lot less problem with the gayness of their own kind than guys did. And guys had a kind of built-in thing about picking on girls, so Marla and Jackie had had it easy, except for a few stupid comments arriving at their ears.

Again, it had been Dickie Ranshaw who had made the loudest of those, grousing about the fact that two such 'hot babes' had turned out to both be wasted as 'carpet munchers'.

But all of them - Miles, and Marla and Jackie - had gotten on with life with really a minimum of hassle. The one unifying factor to the few problems they did have was Dickie Ranshaw.

"Ranshaw's a nasty little turd," Donnie said, shaking his head. "I always thought he was a prick, but now I'm just realizing how much trouble he really causes."

I nodded. "He's a hater, definitely. But he's all talk, too. His brother, Birdie, is the same way. Cause trouble, then walk away before it comes back to bite. We're just Dickie's current favorite project."

Donnie sighed. "I'm sure me hitting him didn't help any."

I smiled. "Sure felt good, though, didn't it? Even I enjoyed it."

"Yup. But it probably made things worse for us."

Maybe. But, very probably, this thing just needed to run its course. "It's still new, Donnie. People have to have time to adjust."

"Yeah. It's like a...an initiation you have to go through, huh?" He waved his hands in the air and put on a stern face. "You! You gay guys! Eyes forward! Single-file, no talking, bend over, let me see your assholes."

I laughed at the idea, even though it was more true than I'd have once believed. "I guess." I shrugged. "Everything I've read online about gay guys coming out says that first letting everybody know is the hard part, but that after you get past that, a lot of the bullshit eventually goes away."

Donnie looked scared. "So, are we gonna?"

"Come out?" I had to really consider that. "I was thinking maybe we would just act cool about it. I don't want to go around and tell people that we're gay. " I reached over and took his hand. "But as far as I am concerned, you're my guy, and I don't really care who knows it."

Donnie frowned. "So, we're just going to...be ourselves?"

I nodded.

He considered that, then nodded, too. "Okay. Might be some people that say something. What then?"

"Fuck 'em," I said. "As long as they don't touch us, ignore 'em. Words only hurt if you let 'em." I grinned then. "Everybody knows you bashed Dickie, though. Got a feelin' nobody will be touchin' either one of us."

He sighed. "Always be some haters, I'll bet."

I shrugged. "There's always haters. Not just for gay guys. Some people can't stand anyone or anything that's not just like they are. That's sad, because who wants to be like them?"

Donnie sighed, and came up to me, and then we were holding each other closely. "We'll get through this," he said softly. "I can do anything if I'm with you, Andy."

I closed my eyes, kissed him, and squeezed him against me. I'd never felt happier in my life. "Yeah. Me, too."

"Andy?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you scared?" Donnie's voice was a whisper.

"Yeah, a little. Are you?"

Donnie's arms tightened about me. "Yeah."

I kissed him. "I've got your back."

I felt him smile. "You think we'll be together forever?"

"Yes."

Donnie just sighed, and laid his head on my shoulder. "Promise?"

I hugged him. "Would I lie?"