Savage Moon 01 - Discovery - 1. Chapter 1

It had been almost five years now since I had been free of them. At the age of 19, I was now moving forward into reality. A somewhat normal life. I was beginning to view my whole experience as just some surreal hellish fantasy. A nightmare that I had finally escaped from, never to be taken into those blackened depths of myself ever again. But...it isn't over is it? They're out there somewhere, aren't they? I know they are. I can feel them inside me. I can see their faces in the recesses of my thoughts. I can hear their faint laughter carried on every gale of wind carried over the top of those mountains. And despite the time that had lapsed, despite my attempts to forget the events of my life that took place when I was fourteen years old...I know that one day they'll come back for me. They'll come back to finish what they started. And I won't be ready for them.

Even now, I can sometimes look outside my window at night, and see a slight flash out of the corner of my eye. Two small glowing orbs...a pair of watchful eyes...that simply vanish the very second that I notice them. Faster even. It's times like this that I know they're watching. Waiting. Calling me back. Perhaps giving me my last chance to return willingly, before they sweep me up like the divine hands of God Himself. The strange thing is...a large part of me knows that I belong with them. Maybe...even envy their perfection. Such a conflict to go through on a restless night like this.

Cyrus used to tell me..."A person must lose innocence in order to gain knowledge." And he was right. He was right about everything. I've never been so frightened of feeling so alive. I know that next time, and there will be a next time, I won't be able to handle it. Next time...whatever innocence I have left...will be gone. That summer...just five short years ago...I both found and lost more of me than I'll ever allow to happen again. At age fourteen...

I found out just how pleasing madness can be...

It was particularly hot that day in the church. Sweltering heat outside combating the few air conditioners that we had running to cool the place off. I was 14 years old at the time, standing up front in a damp altar boy's frock and tryng to stay silent while my father preached to the sizable congregation in the rows in front of us. I could feel beads of sweat all over my face, but none of them would fall. They stayed glued to my cheeks and forehead like little bullets, and I knew that once the first one dripped down my cheek, therest would come raining down in a flood of perspiration. Darryl Breck, however, the altar boy staring at me from the other side of the room, didn't seem to be preoccupied with any other thoughts outside of holding back his smile. And it made me wonder if he had actually gone through with the sinister plan that he had mentioned to me earlier that morning.

"Hey Wes! Check this out..." He had said to me, looking around and reaching into his bag as we got dressed for service. He pulled out a small clear plastic Coke bottle with the label half torn off. But the liquid inside was clearly not Coke. He twisted the lid off and gave me a whiff.

"Augh! God, Darryl! What the hell IS that???" I said in a loud whisper. It was like it had cleared every sinus that I'd ever had.

"It's some of my papa's moonshine. I dipped a little out of the barn this morning before coming in."

"What are you gonna do with it?"

Darryl gave me a devilish grin. "I'm gonna add it to the Communion wine..." He could hardly keep from snickering at his own plan. "I can't wait to see the look on their face when they get a taste of this shit."

"Darryl!" I said, making sure my voice was down. He always was a bit of a clown and a prankster, but we could get into real trouble for this. "You CAN'T do that! What if they find out it was you?"

"Don't worry about it. Look, every morning when their setting up for 11 o'clock service, they bring all of the communion materials and sit it behind the altar so we can bring it to them. It's left completely unguarded when Mrs. Tate goes to tune the piano and put leaflets in the pews. When you and I go out to light the candles for service, and then go in the back to walk out with your dad...I'll slip in the mickey and..."

"Darryl, NO! Ok? Just...no. I don't need the punishment right now."

"Come on, Wesley....where's your spirit?"

"My 'spirit' is still grounded from the time you put xeroxed pictures of pornography in each of the Hymn books." I said.

"Oh yeah...hehehe, that was a good one too."

"Darryl, tell me you're not gonna do this." I said, but he just turned his back with a smile and continued to get dressed in his robe. "Darryl? DON'T...ok? Just DON'T!"

That was just under an hour ago, and now, as I sit here trying to control my sweat glands as much as possible, I worry whether he was able to resist the temptation or not. It hardly seemed worth the punishment, the short burst of laughter and satisfaction that he would get from doing it. I never would have done it. But...as I looked over at Darryl periodically throughout the beginning of the service, my faith in his restraint kept dwindling. He did it, didn't he? I KNOW he did it! I didn't actually see him go through the motions, but as I saw the smile on his face, widening ever so slowly the closer we got to Communion, I just knew he was guilty. My dad kept preaching and running the service as he always did, not knowing what was waiting for him in that glass of spiked wine. I knew I was never going to hear the end of this.

When the time came for the wine to be poured into the chalice up front, my nerves got a hold of me. I thought for sure he would smell the tangy odor of a heavily added dose of moonshine and whip me good in front of everybody. My father was a preacher and a fair man most times, but he was hardly one to go through weighing a bunch of evidence before dishing out the punishments. I doubt he'd give me much chance to talk my way out of it, guilty or not. He'd assume I was somehow involved even if it wasn't my hands pushing the plot forward. Sighhhh.....dammit Darryl.

My father poured the wine, the red liquid hiding an invisible invasion of hard core liquor in its flavor, and Darryl began to giggle to himself. He coughed in an attempt to cover it up, but his smile was still breaking through. I widened my eyes in his direction, upset that he would risk BOTH of our necks for a silly prank. I mouthed the word "Asshole" at him, and when he began to snicker again I did my best to silently hush him up.

"Ahem..." My father said. It was a short pause, but one where both he and Mrs. Tate gave me a stern enough look to let me know that I was walking on thin ice. It was a silent warning to knock it off with the innappropiate behavior in church, and I almost wanted to stop the service to keep this prank from going through to completion. I could stop this. I could tell them it was Darryl and I wouldn't have to be punished again with more housework or groundings or, God forbid, another whipping. But I kept silent, and Darryl watched happily as his plan went into effect.

The music began to play, and the congregation lined up to come and receive communion by kneeling on the pads in the front of the altar. The wafers went out first as the body of Christ, an assistant priest giving them out one by one on the line. That was the easy part. My father then swished the wine around in the chalice and put a small fabric napkin over his arm as he walked down to deliver the wine a few steps behind him. He'd be the last to drink, the last one to find out what had happened. I tensed up and cursed under my breath at Darryl, who was too busy watching the crowd to pay me any mind.

"This is the blood of Christ. Amen. This is the blood of Christ. Amen. This is the blood of Christ. Amen." I peeked out of the corner of my eye, cringing inside at what was happening. I watched as person after person, young and old, male and female, tightened up their faces and squinted their eyes as they got a taste of the alcoholic poison that my father had given them. Mrs. Henderson's eyes shut tight as she forced the wine down with a cough. Mr. Clarke nearly spit it out on first taste, but swallowed it anyway. Not one member of the congregation would dare spit out the wine during communion. So they all kept quiet, trying to pretend as though it wasn't even happening. Darryl began to cough to himself again, trying to hide his own laughter, and despite the fact that I was probably going to end up being served a 'life sentence' in my room for this...I had to admit that the looks on their faces WERE pretty funny. Especially when little 12 year old Billy Hertz took a sip and, instead of gagging on it, swallowed it with ease and looked up to smile at me and Darryl with approval. Evidently he had been dipping into a few barn stashes of moonshine himself at his age. As each person sipped from the 'cup of life', it got funnier and funnier, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from giggling outloud. I couldn't look at Darryl, or I would have burst out laughing for sure. But I could hear his masking coughs anyway and that made me want to laugh even harder. I closed my eyes for a moment and held my breath in an attept to stop the jittery sensation building up inside of my chest. However, when I opened them again to see Mrs. Henstridge swallow a hefty gulp and immediately start fanning herself from the burn of the liquor, the giggles returned to me with a vengence. And the killer came when old man Kelly took a sip and experienced a joyful shiver as it went down his throat. He looked like he was ready to volunteer to drink the rest of it. I nearly screamed when I saw the smirk on that man's face.

Darryl and I both held it in as much as we could, coughing and smiling without giving ourselves away too much. However, that fear...that gripping fear, came back to me as I saw my father reaching the end of the line. There was still a half chalice full left after everyone else had taken a sip, and I knew that it was the preacher's duty to finish the rest afterwards. It was just a part of the service. The prank was well executed, and it WAS entertaining for a while, but the gig was up. And I just wanted it to stop right there. I felt my breathing get labored, and I looked down at the floor as he came back with the half full glass of tainted wine. He swished it around a few times, holding it up over the altar, and said a quick prayer before lowering the cup and tilting it towards his lips. I gasped as he took in a huge mouthful, and Darryl's eyes nearly split from being opened so wide. As soon as the liquid washed over my father's tastebuds, he knew something was wrong. The sting was already burning the surface of his tongue, and his throat was prepared to lock up and deny the intruding alcohol its access. But it was too late, he had already taken a mouthful and swallowed some of the chalice's contents before realizing what had happened.

His eyes burst open and he violently SPAT out the wine with a heaving cough, spraying the red liquid all over the white cloth of the altar! He coughed and wheezed and gagged, holding his chest as the alcohol burned in his throat. Darryl burst out laughing and fell over on his side, grabbing his stomach, unable to hold in the pleasure of it all anymore. And me? I tried soooo hard to keep from laughing, but my body betrayed me. The smile turned into snickers, the snickers turned into giggles, and the giggles turned into a full blown hysterical laugh as my father tried to regain his composure. I couldn't help it! God knows I tried! But the laughing wouldn't stop no matter HOW hard I attempted to hold it in. Darryl's uproar only increased my laughter to the point where I could hardly breathe for trying to stop it. And when all was said and done, I knew I'd pay dearly for desecrating the service like this. There was no way out of that. But...Darryl got him good, and I guess, just this once, it was worth it. It feels good to laugh with such freedom, especially when you know that the 'consequences' of said actions will stop you from doing so for a long time to come.

Later on that evening, just before dinner, I waited in my room for the conversation that I was sure was going to take place once the four of us sat down to dinner. About my misconduct and my lack of discipline, my inability to be a 'good boy' even though I did my best to play that role almost every second of the day. My mother and father would drag it out for as long as they could. Guilt was a weapon that they both weilded like a well trained samurai. And my brother Nick, just a little bit younger than me at age 11, almost 12, would make a joke about the whole thing as often as possible. Taking it RIGHT to the edge where he was in danger of me beating the living shit out of him, and taunting me from behind that thin line of safety. It felt like I loved him out of obligation most times, because he was my brother. When he was on your side, he was a lovable person to have around. And it's not like he was a pest or anything. But there was something in his 'normalcy' that always bothered me. Made me jealous and angry and want to search for a flaw in him somewhere that would somehow make both him and I equal on some level. He just had this free spirit about him that I couldn't match. Not with all of my pushing and emotional suppression could I ever be as lively, as funny, as witty, or as sickeningly 'straight' as my younger brother was. And deep down, that really pissed me off.

As Nick grew older, he was beginning to become more of a complete 'person'. He had more of a separate personality to feed off of. He was gaining good friends, and was just at the beginning of noticing that girls gave you a slightly different feeling inside than boys did. A lesson that I never learned, thanks to a harsh roll of the dice and fate's need to make me suffer by living life as abnormally homosexual. I knew what was to come in the next few years. Nick was a cute kid, and as his baby fat melted away to reveal a raw but innocent sexuality, I knew he'd turn out to be one of those kids that can have his pick when it came to girls. He would soon be bringing home love letters and secretive notes. He'd begin asking the kind of questions that normal teens are supposed to ask at that age. And he'd start dating and kissing and feeling up some young bitch in the back seat of a car every weekend. And my parents would look at me and wonder why I wasn't doing the same. They'd wonder what was 'wrong' with me, and that would lead to a parental investigation that I was neither prepared to deal with nor willing to answer to. It's only a matter of time before my parents pick me as the odd man out...and at that time...I KNEW that I was going to have to tell them 'something' when they finally got around to asking. I just don't know if I have the guts to do it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I guess....deep down...my brother represents what I could have been if life had given me the proper chance. He represents the destruction of my soul's every secret, and the downfall of the lie that I call my life in the public's eye. For this...I can't help but look at Nick with a feeling of anger and disgust. It hurts to love my brother so much with this kind of backwards perspective gnawing at me from behind.

"The boy needs boundaries, Helen! He's getting out of control." I heard my father's voice in the kitchen, and I peeked over the side of the banister upstairs, looking down on our living room. I listened closely as my mother responded.

"He's just a boy, Henry. It was a little bit of mischief on a hot Sunday afternoon. Nothing more than that."

"He's getting to a tough age now. All of those bad influences out there...that music, those movies...you can't even turn on the tv anymore without seeing some kind of horrible image on every channel. And don't think I haven't been keeping an eye on that Darryl boy either. He needs a kick in the ass worst of all." My dad kept talking, and I was slightly distracted as I noticed Nick coming to the top of the stairs to join me. I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I knew I'd miss half the conversation while trying to convince the little bastard to go away. So I scooted over and gave him the signal to be quiet. "I don't know what to do with him anymore. Honestly. It's like he doesn't even want to listen to me anymore."

"He'll be fine. He's making new friends all the time, his schoolwork is always a breeze for him, he generally seems to be happy. A teenager, yes, but a happy one."

"Kids need discipline, and I'm going to make damn sure that he gets it while living under this roof." My mother began to speak against it, but my father interrupted immediately by saying, "I will NOT be embarrassed!" And I suppose that was the unspoken end of the conversation as far as friendly negotiations were concerned. As usual, he had made up his mind and that was that. "I can't turn my back on him for a single minute. He'll be completely WILD by the time I get back from the church's camp program this summer. You know, I'm severely considering taking him with me next week just to keep my eye on him."

"Wow...he sounds pretty upset this time." Nick whispered.

"Isn't he always?" I answered.

"What do you think he's gonna do to you?"

"He's not going to do anything. I didn't even DO it!"

"Well you better tell him that, because I don't think he knows." Nick was already getting on my nerves, but lightened me up a bit when he whispered, "Don't worry. I thought it was funny, Wes."

The talent of being adorable...it was like he could turn it on and off at will. Just when I thought I could get annoyed enough to strangle him, he reminds me how much he means to me. What a dirty trick. "Shhhhhh..." I whispered, and went back to listening at the conversation downstairs.

They sort of discussed my need for strict guidelines and a solid set of rules, before my father mentioned his committment to the camp program again. Every summer, the church sets up a Bible camp with these freaky activities and more mentions of our Savior than I wish to remember. And here I thought HITLER was the one who had the art of brainwashing down to a science! Anyway, I spent one summer there and vowed to never return, even though my dad didn't seem to be giving me much choice this time around. My mother, knowing how much I hated going there and also being aware of how much of a bull my father could be, she offered a slight compromise. "Well honey, listen, why don't we all go?"

"The four of us?"

"Sure. We can get away for a little while, get some fresh air...maybe you and Wesley can spend some quality time together. Straighten things out."

My father thought through the idea for a moment. "It might do the boy some good to put him to work for a few weeks. Teach him some sense of responsibility." I felt my stomach tighten in insult when he said it. I WAS responsible! He just didn't care enough to take notice of it half the time.

"Oh Henry. Don't be such an ogre all the time. Maybe if you two got a chance to be 'friendly' again instead of you always trying to rule with an iron fist, you might be able to reach some sort of middle ground." My father huffed in a stubborn grumble, but my mom wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and smiled warmly. "It'll be a good vacation in the mountains for all of us. Father Johnson has a cabin not far from there, he only uses it twice a year, if that. I'll give him a call and ask if he'd mind us staying there for a little while. You could practically walk to the campsite from there if you're up for the excercise. Even in the early mornings before prayer."

"That's actually not a bad idea. Not bad at all. I'll let the boys know to start getting their stuff together for next weekend. I'll see what I can work out with the administration about getting him a job working the camp while he's there. I won't have him slouching and pouting around the cabin the whole time." My father...always holding onto the bad, never wanting to accept the good. By the time they had worked out a few more ideas and details, I was preparing to be informed of my summer plans without question. The next words out of my father's mouth were, "Make sure you let Father Johnson know that we're coming."

"I will. I'll call after dinner." She replied, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

A trip to the mountains...for WEEKS! With just my weirdo parents and my little brother Nick to keep me company. What's worse, no internet connection. And THAT means no porn! I wonder if I should start printing out photos and the like to take with me right now. "Nick! Wesley!" My father called upstairs. "Come down for dinner. Your mother and I have some news for you." Wonderful. This is one of those times when I really wish I had a choice in the matter. I suppose that's just wishful thinking.

"Coming, Dad!" This is gonna be a looooong vacation.

The following week passed by without any slow down at all. The more I dreaded going back to that awful place, the faster the minutes ticked by, bringing me ever closer to it. By the time I had even begun to think of a way of getting out of it, we had the car packed up and were pulling out of the driveway. Nick seemed to be happy to be going on an adventure for a little while. But then again, Nick was their perfect little golden child, he was always happy. Automaton. Anyway, sitting in the backseat of the car and watching the usually boring flat landscape transform into something a bit more naturally artistic, I guess I should be thankful that this would be taking the place of a much more agonizing punishment. Not that trading scriptures with Jesus freaks was going to be a picnic, but it was better than anyone of a million other alternatives, I suppose.

The trip took us a little over three hours, the mountains seemingly creeping up on us as we drove into them. Now, when we say 'mountains', we're not talking about snow capped earth mounds of majesty like the Rockies or anything. These are midwestern mountains, which are basically just big enough to not be classified as a 'big hill' anymore. Still, it was a big change from where we were. I saw the steep hills escalating upwards on both sides of the road, the trees looking as though they would lean over and collapse in on us any moment. The ground was littered with years of broken branches and fallen leaves, mixed with the occassional piece of civilized trash thrown out of a car window by anyone who wasn't afraid of being caught spoiling the landscape of the preserves. There were a few cabins here and there, but there didn't seem to be much life at all outside of a few squirrels and raccons. Sighhhhh.....I SO don't want to be here right now.

I looked over at Nick, who was wearing a set of headphones and bobbing his head around to whatever Radio Disney type sing-song music that he was allowed to have in the car, and enjoying himself without restraint. He was good at that. My mom and dad were up front and simply satisfied being completely silent for most of the trip. I guess they were good at that too. And while I should have been happy to have some time alone with my thoughts, the quiet ride was maddening once I noticed it. I was tempted to playfully slug my little brother in the arm just to provoke some kind of commotion. My mind began wondering if I could actually jump from the moving vehicle and make a clean getaway without being banged up too bad. I can't believe I even agreed to do this. I should have put up a fight.

"The cabin is about ten minutes up the road here, and over to your left." My mom told him.

"Well, why don't we pull over and fill up on gas? And we should be good for a while." My father found a place and pulled into a gas station with a convenience store on the side of it. It was one of those places that almost looked run down to the point of being abandoned, but you could tell that they made a pretty penny there because it was the last resort for anyone going any further into the wilderness. After that, no more snacks, no more cigarettes, no more magazines, no more beer. I'm sure it was an oasis for a lot of folks passing through. The only thing it was missing was an old toothless coot in a rocking chair on the front porch, totin' a shotgun and spitting tobacco into the bottom half of a cut up plastic 2 liter soda bottle. Even at slow speeds we kicked up dust pulling into the station, not that it mattered, because we were the only ones there. "Okay everybody, if you want to stretch your legs, now's the time to do it." My dad got out of the car to walk around to the pump.

"You boys want some snacks?" My mother was already digging around in her purse by the time she had asked. Which basically meant, 'bring me a snack and get something for yourselves'.

"Yeah!" Nick was enthusiastic, endless energy in that kid. I, on the other hand, was planing to pout non-stop for at least the first week. I dragged myself out of the car and walked with him towards the porch of the old place. Nick still had his portable cd player with him, taking off his earphones to let me listen to it. "Here, check this out."

I pushed his hand away, "Um...no thanks."

"What? It's Dream Street. You'll like it."

"Not my thing. You can keep it, boy wonder." I said.

"You're grouchy."

"I'm NOT grouchy. I just don't wanna pollute my ears with your teeny bop pop music right now. That's all."

He gave me a look, and then put his ear phones back on with a shrug of his shoulders before saying, "It's pop, but I know you wanna listen."

"And I know that you've got an Eminem cd disguised as Aaron Carter in your backpack. So save it." I think he was surprised that I knew about it, but he knew I wouldn't tell. If anything, I was glad to know that he wasn't a total 'goodie goodie'.

We entered the convenience store with a ring of the bell by the old screen door, and Nick ran straight for the candy shelves, somewhat crooked as they were. The place was a bit dusty, but overall a clean store. Carrying just enough of the neccessities to supply the few folks that lived in the area. A dozen or so gallons of milk, a few loafs of bread, a couple bags of sugar. All one brand name mostly. I think candy was about the only thing that they had any real wide variety of. As I walked around, I could hear a small boombox playing a Jimi Hendrix cd in the background. 'Angel' was the song on at the time...ironic now that I think about it. Because I saw a young boy, about my age, give or take a year, cleaning up a spill in the back by the cooler. And believe me, to say that he captivated me upon first glance would be an understatement.

I first caught a glimpse of his medium length sandy blond hair from behind, shining a bright shade of gold, shimmering like ice even in the dim light of the place. It hung down softly to the back of his neck, almost below the ear, but the lobes peeked out from underneath it. He was pretty slim, but had that midwestern 'solidity' to him. The kind of soft lean muscle you get from chores and housework...never too skinny, never too bulky. But rather that gentle perfection in between. He was wearing a white apron over a plaid button down shirt, and a pair of faded jeans that covered a pretty nice piece of ass, if I may say so myself. A bit flat at first glance, but soon you'd notice that it had just enough roundness and fullness to give it the cutest shape imaginable. The very look of him just held my attention, and this was just seeing him from behind.

"Do you boys need any help?" Came a voice from the front of the store. It was an older guy, my father's age maybe, and he was walking back behind the counter after coming out of a room in the back. His voice got me to turn my head, and I accidentally knocked a small box of Kool Aid packets onto the floor. That's when the boy in front of me turned around, and my breath got caught in my throat. I could literally feel my body freeze up inside, as I looked into a huge pair of bright hazel eyes, shining almost completely green from accross the room. The features of his face would catch anyone off guard, soft and subtle, with a level of beauty that it takes a few seconds for your eyes to even understand or define correctly. And perfect lips, lips that would invite you to stare in amazement for hours, begging for the opportunity to see them move. By the time I had realized that I was staring like a lovestruck idiot, he was already looking down at the packets on the floor.

"Oh...oh man, I'm sorry. It was an accident." I got down on one knee and started picking up the packets to put them back in the box. I tried matching up the colors as fast as I could as I reorganized the whole thing, I hope he's not looking at me. When I looked up again, he was walking over to help. Up close, he was even more of a walking miracle than I had anticipated from a distance. "I...I am so sorry..." I repeated.

"It's ok. It's just Kool Aid." He said, his voice was young. Younger than he looked, but so sweet in its tone. He squatted down near me and helped me gather the packets up by color. "It's the third time it's fallen over this week. I think we should try gluing it to the shelf next time." My hands were moving pretty slow, my eyes drinking in as much of him as a few awkward glances would allow. I was paying more attention to him than anything else. He was CUTE! Intimidatingly so. The kind of cute that causes you to smile with boyish infatuation whenever you look at him. The kind of cute that you can feel in your chest, sending shivers out to consume you from the inside out. Jimi seemed to be speaking to me through his music at the moment.

'Fly on by, sweet angel. Fly on through the stars. Fly on by, sweet angel. Forever I will be by your side.'

It's not like me to be so caught up in anyone like this. I think this would be a first.

I was almost sad to see the box of packets put back in order when we had finished. The boy lifted it back onto the shelf, scooting it inward a bit more to keep it from happening again. Then he flashed me a sweet grin before walking back over to finish cleaning up the other spill he was tending to when we walked in. Don't think the thought of knocking something else over just to spend another few moments looking at him up close didn't cross my mind either, because it did. But instead, I pretended to browse for a bit longer, peeking curiously at him repeatedly over the shelves of the old place. Wow...he really was breathtaking. If this is what the boys around here look like nowadays, I might just like it here afterall.

My mind tried to organize itself...taking years of conversational practice and trying to find a way to approach him again. Maybe to ask him where something was in the store. I just...I felt like I just needed this contact. It was so strange. Then, I heard the bell over the screen door ring, and my father walked in with money for the gas. The man seemed to recognize him right away. "Father Patrick, how are you? Is it summer camp time already?"

"Yes, yes. You know me, I'm always happy to do it. Practically locked into it these days."

The man behind the counter looked over at me, "Are these your boys then?"

"Yes, this is Nick. He's the youngest. And of course you remember Wesley."

"Oh yeeeeah, Wesley. Wow, the last time I saw you, you were only ten years old. My how you've sprouted up these last few years." The man looked somewhat familiar to me, but to say that I had any idea who he was would be a lie. Still, better to be polite than honest in such situations.

"Hi..." I mumbled with a faked friendly smile and a small wave. Then I looked back at the boy in the back of the store, and noticed that he took a glance at me before bringing his eyes back down to the floor. No no NO! I thought to myself. I'm not a Jesus freak...I SWEAR! Arrrrgh! I hope he doesn't think I'm one of those weirdo preacher's kids.

"Well, are you guys ready?" My dad asked, and Nick, of course, jumped over with a handfull of candy treats. "Two candy bars, Nick."

"Awww, dad..."

"Two, and no more. You'll ruin your dinner." My dad met eyes with me, "Ok, kiddo. Let's go."

We picked up a few treats and enough stuff to cook a decent dinner for the night. We'd have to drive almost an hour into town to go grocery shopping the next day, but the gas station had enough to fill our bellies for the time being. My father exchanged a few more pleasant words with the store owner and then said his goodbyes as we walked out. I managed to glance back over my shoulder at the boy in the back, and saw those bright hazel specs catch mine for a swift moment before being ushered back out to the car. I mean it...this boy was unnaturally beautiful. My God...the thought that someone is going to get to 'have' him someday is driving me CRAZY! I don't think I'll ever forget his face. Those eyes. Those lips. Sighhhh...it was hard not to show my interest. God forbid if my father ever found out what I was thinking. He'd probably take me to the deepest part of these woods and leave me there if he even suspected that I was gay.

The rest of the drive wasn't that bad, but I was happy to get out of the car once we pulled up into the yard of the cabin. It was a decent looking home and all, but definitely not 'home'. It literally was a log 'cabin'. More for camping out than living in. Total Swiss Family Robinson type of thing. We had a porch and two bedrooms, which meant me and Nick were going to be in close quarters for the whole time. If we can make it three days without a shouting match at LEAST, I'd be surprised. We got out of the car, carrying a few bags each of our belongings, and marched up the steps to the front door. My dad opened it with the key and walked into a pretty open spaced living room. Fireplace, bookshelves, old wooden dining room table, windows with no curtains, and a couch that looked pretty worn out, but comfortable. Whatever, it was better than sleeping outside, I suppose.

I dropped my bags down on the living room floor next to the kitchen, except for my backpack. And I headed towards the bedroom that I guess would belong to me and Nick for our stay. "I'll be in my room." I said, ready to go set up and make it somewhat cozy. It'll take some getting used to.

"Wesley..." My father stopped me, and I turned to see what was going on. "We need wood for the fireplace."

"What?" I asked.

"Wood. We need wood for the fireplace. There's a wheelbarrel out back, if you follow the road down a ways I'm sure you'll find plenty..."

"Wait a minute...you want ME to go get firewood?" I asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Why???"

"This is not a vacation, boy. I didn't bring you up here to sit in your room and sulk for three weeks. You're going to get some work ethic in you and learn some responsibility if it kills you. You understand?" I was speechless. Punished for a crime I didn't even commit. This was SO unfair! "Now you go on out back and grab that wheelbarrel. Don't wander too far from the road, and fill it up with as much kindling as you can find. You're in charge of starting the fire tonight, and tomorrow morning you're gonna come down to the camp with me and greet this summer's campers. Hymn and Bible study, the whole nine yards. I've already set you up with a few jobs that you can do to help out while we're here."

"Dad...I already told you that I was innocent. Why am I even here?" But he wasn't having any of that. He merely picked up his bag to take to the other bedroom.

"I suggest you go before it gets dark. The sun sets in a few hours. I want you back by then." And he walked away. Grrr....I swear...turning 18 and getting out of this house is going to be the happiest day of my life!

"I'll go with you, Wesley." Nick said, but my mom wouldn't let him.

"Nick, I want you to help us unpack the car and set up the kitchen. You let your brother get the firewood." She said. I felt almost betrayed by her, but there was a loving look in her eye that let me know that it was supposedly for my own good. And that conflict at this point was going to be more trouble than it's worth. So, with a frustrated grunt, I dropped my backpack on the couch, changed into some 'grubbier' clothes, and walked out the back door to start serving my sentence in back woods hell.

The back of the house was worse looking than the front. It was like the trees had vomited a wealthy stash of muddy leaves and broken branches all over the ground for the sole purpose of tripping me up and watching me fall down to the muck below. Then again, my vision was tainted with my frustration of even being locked in such a screwed up situation. So everything looked out of whack as far as I was concerned. I saw the old rusted wheelbarrel sitting out by an old tree, and wiped off the dirty handles before moving it. It stank something awful from being left outside for Lord knows HOW long. So badly that you could practically 'taste' it, and it was like sucking on a moldy penny. However, even though I almost wanted to stand forever in that backyard in protest, the afternoon light was already turning shades of grey, and I didn't want to be out after dark. The bugs alone in this place would probably eat me alive.

So down the road I went, grumbling and mumbling to myself every step of the way. Occassionally finding a rock on the path big enough to kick as hard as my forward momentum would allow. I was ANGRY. This is so unfair, this whole damn trip was bullshit! I didn't tell Darryl to spike the Communion wine with moonshine. And if I had stopped the service to warn everybody my dad would have been mad anyway. I mean, what the hell does he want from me? I'm a good person! Isn't that enough? I don't curse at my parents, I make good grades, I do my chores and my homework...I'm even nice to my little brother most of the time. I know kids TEN times worse than I am, and they get away with EVERYTHING! They don't have to answer to anybody. They just do what they want, get a slap on the wrist, and then they do it again. I could see if I was doing drugs and drinking corn liquor while selling cigarettes to minors on a grade school playground and getting head from a nun...but I'm NOT! I fight every personal demon that I have to be a good boy, and they treat me like a delinquent anyway. I just wish I knew what it was about me that causes them to think that I'm some demon seed in the making. A delinquent just waiting to happen. Like I said, this just isn't fair.

The wobbly wheelbarrel was a strain on my arms as I pushed it further and further away from the house. After a fifteen minute walk I figured I should be turning off into the woods somewhere to gather the kindling I needed, Especially now that I was going up a slight incline, and my legs were getting tired. Aggravated and absorbed in my thoughts, I had hardly taken notice of two figures coming from the other direction to meet me on the road. I couldn't make out any features really, seeing as they were a bit too far away, but I could tell they were young. Maybe about fifteen years of age. They were either there for camp, or maybe the children of someone who lived in the area. Who knew? But I suddenly felt like a complete idiot pushing this smelly old rusted wheelbarrel down an abandoned road wearing clothes that are barely suitable for the 'grunt work' I was being forced to do. If I'm lucky they be polite enough not to laugh until I'm out of ear shot.

As I got closer to them, more of their features became more visible. And I could see that they definitely looked alike. Identical twins, with smooth shiny hair down to their cheekbones, dyed a dark shade of crimson red, mixed with the natural dark chestnut brown color they were born with. They were actually pretty slim in size, almost skinny, with seductively sucked in hips. And they walked in unison too. Same speed, same sway, same foot forward at the same time. The only thing that kept me from thinking I was seeing double was the fact that the boy on the left was holding a dirty old sack in his right hand. It looked like an old pillow case or something, and was full of something that looked like it had a good deal of weight on it. The boy on the right, however, was playing with matches. The small stiff wooden ones. One by one, he kept pulling them out of their little cardboard slide box and lighting them. He'd strike the match with his thumb, watch it blaze brightly for a few seconds, and then put it out with his fingers, only to toss it away to the side of the road. By the time the match had even stopped smoking, he was reaching in the box for another one. It was a strange, but methodical, activity indeed. The both of them were dressed in black pants, and almost skin tight black shirts that showed off a firm young athletic body. Black boots as well, up to the shin with silver buckles on them. And two thin leather bracelets on each wrist. Something told me right away...they were definitely NOT here for Bible camp.

The more I walked, the more they walked, the closer we got to one another. I knew our paths were about to cross. At a closer look, the two of them were boyishly handsome, well kept...they almost had a sweet quality about them. However, that sweetness faded away as you got closer to seeing their eyes. They were a dark shade of green, piercing, unavoidable. Behind those emerald specs was a wicked sensation of mischief that I couldn't describe, not with all the words at mankind's disposal. The way they carried themselves was unlike anything that I had ever seen. Not even from Darryl and his friends, a 'bad element' crowd of hoodlums-in-training, had I seen such a devilish vibe in someone. It was as if they could walk on water and shoot the stars out of the sky if they wanted to. The kind of implied rebellion that you could feel in the air around you whenever they were near. It was a strange feeling that I didn't quite know what to do with.

The bag that the twin boy on the left was holding looked dark at the bottom, wet with some kind of strange liquid that was dripping ever so slowly from the bottom of the sack. A thick, dark liquid. It looked almost like...like...blood. Roadkill, maybe? It couldn't have been anything bigger than a large raccoon if it was. Whatever it was, the weight of it pulled the bag down towards the road, almost skimming the surface of the asphalt, trickles and dripplets of blood being left behind it. Normally, someone meeting a stranger on a road in the late afternoon holding something like that would make at least a subtle attempt to hide such a thing. But not him. Instead, he almost seemed to swing it with an even more indulgent sense of pride. The bottom of the sack was soaked through, and a few flies were trailing behind it as they moved forward. We were almost eye to eye now.

Finally, the moment came when we passed each other on the road. A moment that may have taken all of ten seconds, but to me...it felt like an eternity squared. I took a glance at them, their smooth young 'teen hearthrob' features gracing my vision swiftly before I forced my eyes back to the ground. Everything about them was identical, their movements were synchronized in a way that almost seemed inhuman somehow. And the one on the right lit up an especially bright match as we passed one another. Their eyes stared deep into my own, and neither one of them flinched at all. It was a shameless degree of eye contact that made me nervous. As they both flashed me a devilish grin, again, spreading out on both of their faces in unison, I sped up my pace to keep them from making any further contact with me. Something about them, cute as they were, frightened me. Their very presence on that deserted road was almost invasive in the eeriest way. Then...at last, the moment had passed, and we began walking our separate ways again.

But despite my need to fight the urge to turn around, my curiousity of such an odd event caused me to look over my shoulder at them again while they were still close. What surprised me, was that they had both turned around and were walking backwards, staring me right in the face. Smiling wickedly. I turned my head forward as fast as I could, and walked even faster, almost causing the wheelbarrel to go out of control. I could see the dripplet trail of blood on the road, and did my best to ignore it. I just wanted to get away from there. And it was then that I heard the both of them giggling at me from behind. Were they laughing at me? Making fun of me? I wasn't sure, but they showed no hesitation in letting me know.

"Hehehe! Keep walkin', shy guy!" The boy holding the sack said. Playfully, but letting me know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was indeed the butt of their joke.

I turned around again, and the boy with the matches blew me a kiss with a smile. And the two of them kept walking. Their laughter and taunting fading away as they traveled further down the road. There are some real fucking weirdos in this place. To hell with them. They don't even know me. God...I can't WAIT until they let me go home and ge the hell OUT of this place!

I turned off the road not long after my run in with 'double trouble' back there, and decided that I'm just gonna grab whatever kindling I can to fill up the barrel and get back home before I lose what's left of my mind. And believe me, if you think toting a wheelbarrel on a road is tough, trying going on an inclined hill with one. I didn't stray too far from the road as instructed, and just set the wheelbarrel out next to a tree. Then I moped around looking for some decent sticks and firewood that wasn't too green so it would burn better. The whole time, my thoughts were twisting themselves around the twins in the road, and I could feel my self esteem lower itself little by little, until I was practically wearing it around my ankles. It only proved to keep me frustrated while working to complete my task for the evening.

Stupid kids. What are they laughing at, anyway? It's not MY fault that I'm stuck out here. Picking up firewood. What kind of stupid punishment is that? I bet if Nick had gotten into trouble, HE wouldn't have to do all this. All I do for them, all the times I suppressed the urge to do something stupid...even when I really wanted to...and THIS is the thanks I get. Picking up dirty, bug ridden, sticks in the woods while everyone else is out having fun this summer. I don't think my parents have any idea how much this BLOWS!

It started with a crackle. Way off in the distance. It was so quiet that I actually thought it was ME at first. But when it happened again, I stopped walking and looked around to see where the sound was coming from. The woods were thick, even this close to the road, and by the time you had peeked completely around one tree...there was just another tree in the way. I waited for a moment or two, and then decided to quit being silly and just finish up before it got even darker outside. The sun was definitely setting now, and the sky war already turning shades of orange and red as the light faded away into night. I added another armful of sticks to the wheelbarrel and turned to keep walking when I heard another snap of a twig in the distance. Again, I looked around me, and saw nothing. But I was on my alert when I started picking up sticks again. One more armload, and that's it. It should be enough. I'm getting out of here before this gets any weirder than it already is.

I heard another sound, but this? This was definitely a footstep. I spun around quickly, and heard another footsep from behind me. It was coming from two places at once, and something inside of me began to panic. Shit! What the hell was going on here??? I looked around, hoping that I'd be able to see something. Anything. But all I could hear were the sounds of crushed leaves and snapping twigs....and it was getting closer.

"Who's out there???" I said, my voice shakey at best. No answer. "Who's out there?!?!?" I said louder. Again, no answer.

The woods were completely silent. Dead quiet. And I was afraid to move, or even breathe for that matter. I just roamed the area around me, with my eyes alone, worried of what I might see if I turned my head in the right direction. Ok, Wes....get a grip. You've seen one too many 'Friday The 13th' movies, bucko. Screw the rest of the kindling, I'm high tailing it out of here right NOW! I walked back to the wheelbarrel and moved it away from the tree. That's when I heard a loud noise, like a bunch of tree branches snapping all at once. And then I heard breathing coming from behind me. Not human breathing...more like an animal. Heavy, deep. As though it was taking an awful lot of oxygen to fill up the chest of such a creature. I don't remember ever hearing about any kind of wild animal problem in these woods before. But it's not like one can't suddenly develop if a certain animal wanted to take up residence in the area. I froze for a second, wondering if I should pay attention to the heavy breathing behind me or the snapping branches in front of me. And as my trembling hands fell down to my sides, ready to make a mad dash for the road if I had to...I 'saw' something. A large black shape in the distance. It was HUGE! And it moved quickly forward through the trees not more than twenty feet in front of me! Then I heard a growl behind me, and it sounded pretty damn close! So I turned around quickly, only to see a blurry shape rushing at me top speed!!!

I screamed outloud, falling backwards onto the ground and rolling partially down the hill with something on top of me! I fought with it, using my fists to pound away at it with everything that I had, and then I tossed it off of me to the side! I was still screaming, my chest heaving, my heart about to explode! And then I looked over at what was 'attacking' me...and it was...it was...

...Spiderman?

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!" The laughter came from around one of the other trees, and I looked to see the two twins standing there, laughing their ASSES off at me! They were nearly doubled over, making fun of me and my reaction to their stupid little prank.

"It's not funny!" I said, but they kept laughing. "It's NOT fucking FUNNY!!!" I shouted. That comment only made them laugh harder, and I kicked the stupid almost life size Spiderman doll further down the hill. The twins mocked my shouts and cries as they laughed and ran off deeper into the woods. I'm glad SOMEBODY was getting a kick out of all of this! Fucking WEIRDOS in this place! I swear...something tells me that by the time I leave this hell hole...

...I'm going to be completely insane.

I'd like to say that my run in with the twins and their little practical joke wasn't enough to really get to me. That I'd be the better man by not letting them rattle me or make me feel down on myself for falling for it. If I let them anger me, then they win. In theory, that idea works beautifully. Unfortunately, I have to admit, it upset me. In fact, it stayed on my mind all night, adding fuel to my already grumpy disposition. Why did they do it? Why mess with me? It's not like I did anything to provoke it. They just did it for the hell of it. Ugh! If only I could explain the confused rage that I felt over someone I didn't even know going out of their way to pick on me. No matter what I did, they wouldn't leave my thoughts.

Then again, it wasn't just the fact that they played a mean trick on me. It was more than that. Something almost sinister in their look. As I let off some emotional steam in silence that night, in the same room and yet withdrawn from my family completely at the same time, my mind focused more on that strange feeling I got as I passed them on the road for the first time. That gaze of theirs, piercing through me as though they could simply 'will' me to vanish from the face of the Earth in a blink if they saw fit to do so. I've seen twins in my life before, even triplets once...but never two boys that seemed to be such an exact reflection of one another. Exact to the point where it threw you into a stupor over whether what you were seeing was real or not. All that, combined with a smile that looked like it was crafted by Satan himself, and they have easily made it into my book of the creepiest people I've ever come across. Fuckin' punks! They both deserve to have a nice black ring put around their eyes for what they did to me.

I went to bed fairly early that night, not wanting to occuppy the same space as my family for much longer, and Nick came in the room shortly after. I probably would have been better off sleeping in the living room. Nick was usually one of those boys that couldn't be in the presence of somebody else and just be quiet for a few minutes. He just HAD to keep talking, asking questions, swinging his feet...anything to keep your atention on him the entire time. After about ten minutes of that, I put on my walkman headphones and closed my eyes in an attempt to tune him out completely until he went to sleep. I know I probably treat my little brother a lot worse than I probably should, and it was never my intent to really hurt his feelings. But I just wasn't in the mood at that moment. If anything, it was probably better that I shut him out. Because we would have been arguing and fighting if a few more minutes of our sibling interaction had gone by. So be it, he'll get the hint. Funny thing is, I kept my eyes closed so long waiting for him to go to sleep, I think I beat him to it. Music playing and all.

That next morning, if you can CALL it that, it was more like the crack of dawn, I felt an arm shaking me awake. It was like being suddenly yanked out of a coma, my body was still limp, my mind still too deep in sleep to really think straight. I instinctively rubbed my eyes, and saw my father standing over me, fully dressed. "Wake up, Wes. We're going down to set up for the campers this morning. Put your clothes on, wash up, and we'll grab some breakfast before we go." He whispered. And then had the nerve to say, "Don't wake your brother."

By the time he had turned and left the room, I was already boiling. Why the FUCK am I even HERE??? Arrrrgh!!! Still groggy, I swung my feet around to land on the floor, and stared blankly off into space for a few minutes while my brain tried to reattach itself to reality. I got dressed slowly, grumbling to myself the whole time, and walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. The smell of sausage and fresh eggs being scrambled filled my nostrils, and the scent of it was almost enough to lift my mood. Almost, but not quite.

I sat down to a set table across from my dad, and my mother emptied a healthy heap of eggs right out of the hot pan and onto my plate. The entire table was silent as we ate that morning. My father and I mentally spitting daggers at each other occassionally as my stubborness and his determination clashed for supremacy over the breakfast table. But who was I kidding? He was going to win. The most I could do was shut up and get it overwith as soon as possible. I just hope he doesn't think this punishment of his makes me anymore guilty than I was before, because it doesn't. That reminds me....I'm gonna kick Darryl's ASS when I get back!

It was a bit chilly that morning, and Dad had a bunch of equipment and all to carry with him, so we didn't take the long walk to the campsite. Just as well, because I wouldn't have had anything to talk to him about anyway, and vice versa. Instead, he packed up the car and we drove down the quiet old paved road in the center of the woods. I was basically just focusing my gaze out of the window to keep him from looking me in the eye. I thought I would be disgusted with the sense of satisfaction that it was giving him to drag me out here and do whatever he told me to do. But re-focusing my stare out the window turned out to be a GOOD thing...because as I looked a bit further down the road, I saw a boy coming towards us on a bike. I looked closer and recognized him as the cutie pie from the convenience store the day before. God...even from THIS distance he was hot. I looked over to make sure my father didn't see me staring, trying to mask my infatuation with him by yawning as if I didn't care. But deep down inside, my heart was fluttering. I knew absolutely NOTHING about this boy other than the fact that he mops floors and picks up Kool-Aid packets when they fall down...and yet, something about him made me want to know everything above and beyond, outside and in between, that. Something about him just glowed with this amorous radiance that I couldn't pull myself away from. It was pure magic to lay your eyes on him. Pure magic.

The car was approaching him fast, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to stare for much longer, so I just absorbed all of the details that I could as we passed by him. The wind blowing his gentle blond hair back, his long legs pumping the peddles of his bike, his cute little teenage butt stuck out, pouting, as he propelled himself forward. I was even able to catch a glimpse of those smooth ruby lips as he whisked by us. Wow...I had to fight to keep from sighing outloud to myself after he passed. I had the uncontrollable urge to turn around and look back at him, but by the time my eyes had focused on him, I gathered my senses and put my best heterosexual 'I Don't Care How Cute He Is, He's A Boy' face on. As awful as it was for me to be trapped in this place, knowing that I'm trapped in a close proximity to one of the most gorgeous boys on Earth makes it seem worthwhile.

The campsite? Geez...it was just a bunch of space waiting for something to happen. Nothing more. And we were supposed to turn this emptiness into a fun experience for kids? "Wes, unload the back, take it over to the lodge across the field there, and we'll get started once Mr. Rigby gets here with the tarps."

"Yes, Dad." I said. Afterall, there was no fightng it at this point. I might as well just grin and bear it as much as I possbly could. Defeated, I trotted off to the truck and started unloading.

For the next two and a half hours, I was unloading boxes, setting up tarps, and moving folding tables and chairs. More people began to join us little by little, mostly adults, but a few kids my age too. A few of them looked just as 'trapped' into this as I was, and something about that made me feel a little better. What do ya know...misery really does love company. One of the boys I recognized from church was there also. His name was Freddy, he was a year older than I was, and pretty heavily involved in most of the church projects and all. The thing about Freddy was...even though no one ever dared to let the word slip from their mouths...he was so obviously gay. Effeminate to the point where he was litterally ONE degree away from 'overdoing' it. Heavy on the fashion sense, light in the tone of his voice, and capable of hand gestures that could only be accomplished with the help of a slightly limp wrist. Not to mention an 'un-manly' walk that he didn't do much to hide. But somehow he kept that weird balance in between being himself, and trying to cast a bit of an illusion that would make people think he was straight. It was an unspoken sexual identity. He never said, and nobody ever asked. That's what kept the peace. Still, he made my dad extremely uncomfortable, especially when he would catch him looking at me.

"Hi, Wesley." He said. He always called me 'Wesley', never Wes. I think he just liked the extra syllable. He always smiled so oddly when he said it too. Sometimes, when I allowed my mind to wander to it long enough, I was pretty sure that he had a bit of a crush on me. He would touch my arm or my hair when no one else was looking, he was always smiling in my direction, and he'd blush if I ever waved to him or smiled back. He had this sandy brownish blond hair and brown eyes, looked just like his mom, and was always dressed preppy like. So clean and prim and proper, never a hair out of place, always smelling like he just stepped out of the shower. He was a straight A student, always helped out at school and church, very polite, very well dressed...like I said, gay! Still, that remained an 'implied fact' throughout the whole community and not one person said a word about it out loud. "I thought you weren't going to spend any more summers here." He said.

"Well...I hadn't planned to." I answered. "My...dad kinda made me come."

"Oh, I see." He had a very slight smile on his face. It looked like he was trying to hold it back if anything. He looked me right in my eyes, stared at them in fact. "Well, maybe you'll have fun this summer anyway. I like it when you join us."

"Why? I never do anything special."

"Yeah, I know....you just..." He paused, and let his smile spread a bit more before touching me lightly on the shoulder. "...you're 'fun', you know?"

"Oh....ok." I didn't know what else to say. It was one of those moments where I wondered if he really did have a thing for me. He's cute. Not my first choice, mostly because everybody including me has known him forever. But cute nonetheless. I wonder if...

"Wes..." My dad's voice came from over my shoulder, and Freddy pulled his hand back from my shoulder as I turned to look. "Hello, Freddy." He said, looking at the both of us as though he were checking for illegal contact of some sort.

"Hello, Father Patrick. I see you brought your family with you. It'll be a great camp with Wes and Nick around." Freddy was being polite and enthusiastic as always. I doubt it made much of an impression on my father though.

"I'm sure it will, Freddy. I'm glad you're helping us out again this year." My dad turned to me and threw an arm over my shoulder, his hand resting lightly on my neck. "Wes...I think Freddy can take care of these boxes and all. Why don't you go over there and help Mrs. Moore set up the morning snack table over there." A not-so-subtle strategy on my dad's part. The snack table was waaaaay on the other side of the field, where I guess Freddy would hardly be able to even SEE me, much less touch me. It's not like I didn't know why he was doing it. And it sucked. Because it was instrumental in constantly reminding me that he can't ever EVER find out about me. It's just a part of my life that I'll have to keep under wraps until the day one of us dies.

"See you later, Freddy." I said with a small wave as my dad gently 'guided' me away from him.

"Sure thing, Wesley. You too Father Patrick." He responded, but we were already walking away.

"I told you not to let Freddy touch you so much, Wes. Please be careful, ok?" He said. Huh?

"Be careful of what?" I said, mildly offended, but trying to hold it back in my voice. "It's JUST Freddy, Dad."

"I know that, son, and he's a good boy. He really is. He's just a little 'broken'. He's funny that way. You don't need to be around that."

It was one of those frustrating moments where I knew that giving any verbal resistance whatsoever to what he was saying was like admitting that I was gay myself. And I couldn't necessarily do THAT now, can I? So I did what I always did. I bit my tongue and let the anger build up inside of me only to fizzle out and fade away as I silently put my heterosexual mask back on. Accepting the prejudice as it tried to further imprint itself on my way of thinking. I wonder if he ever suspected that he was basically teaching me to hate myself. To think that who I am is some perverted defect of some kind that would cause 'normal' people to throw me away like some kind of broken transistor radio. Still, it was a discussion I'd have to have later, and only with myself. So why bother saying anything more?

I walked the rest of the way to the snack tables and grabbed a handful of table cloths off of the first table. It was a hefty handful, and as I tried to juggle it around in my arms a bit to make it easier to carry, I accidently bumped into somebody behind me. It was a girl about my age with medium length brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was carrying a few folded up chairs at the time, and the impact knocked them to the ground around her feet. "Aw shit, I'm sorry!" I said, and then lifted the table cloths in my arms up to cover my mouth. I forgot not to swear. Some of these Bible fanatic kids take that kinda shit seriously. "Sorry..." I mumbled again.

She just dropped the rest of what she had in her hand, and said, "Ah fuck it. They were getting heavy anyway." My eyes widened a bit, and I silently thanked the angels for bringing me someone a little less 'brainwashed' than what I was expecting. She stepped out of the circle of chairs at her feet, and brushed some of he hair back out of her face as she extended her hand to me. "The name's Kyla." She smiled.

"Wes." I answered, and gave her a friendly shake. So far, this trip isn't turning out to be so bad.