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    yaalc
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Sebastian - 2. Chapter 2

It was weird having my dad walk me to school. I was 14 for hell’s sake, but he was the one who spoke Spanish not me. All the checking in and formalities would have to be taken care of by him. The house we were renting was only about a 10 minute walk from the school I’d be attending. There was a closer school, but it was a private catholic school and my dad refused to pay money to have me go to a catholic school.

Dad also didn’t want to get a car here. He told me that Argentina has one of the highest fatal traffic accident rates in the world. And after a couple of days here I’d seen what he meant, these people were nuts. There weren’t a lot corners with stop signs so the drivers would either honk or flash their high beams depending on the time of day, to signal that they were going through the intersection. I couldn’t understand how there weren’t a lot more accidents than there were.

As we got closer to the school I started seeing all the kids that would be my schoolmates and I realized that every one of them had a white smock on over their clothing.

“Dad, are those smocks like a uniform? And shouldn’t I have one?” I asked as we crossed the street in front of the school.

“Oh yeah, all the kids wear them to school. I think they are to help keep their clothes clean, and it also acts as a sort of equalizer. It’s kind of like having them on puts everyone on the same social level. I don’t think it works very well but I’m pretty sure that’s the intention. I’ll pick you up some on my way home from work, there just wasn’t time to do it earlier.”

“Fuck” I thought. I’d dressed like I would have on a normal first day back home, I was wearing a nice pair of black jeans, a thick dark green sweater, and my black sketchers. It was about as dressed up as I get for school. As I looked around at what the rest of the kids were wearing I realized that to a lot of people I was going to be “that pretentious Yankee fuck”. I got really queasy again and was glad I hadn’t been able to finish my breakfast. I would have spewed it up right there in the gutter anyway.

Dad and I walked into the school and found the office. Dad went in and talked to the secretary, after a couple of minutes he came out and directed me to sit with him on some benches that were there.

“The principal will be with us in a bit she’s got some start of school things to deal with first”

I was looking around at the school. It surprised me. It was way bigger than I thought it would be. It was two stories high, and built in a square, around an open central court. It mostly surprised me because the town we were staying in couldn’t have had more then 20,000 people. I asked dad about it and he explained that school here was only mandatory until the 5th grade. There are quite a few small schools located in the different neighborhoods, but anybody going to school from 6th grade on came to this school.

About then a woman came up to us. She looked to be in her early 40’s. She had an authoritative air around her, but at the same time she had one of the most sincere smiles I’d ever seen. I took an immediate liking to her. She ushered us into her office.

She and dad sat there talking for a while. All I could do was sit there and look around. I didn’t understand a word of it, but it must have been pleasant because they both smiled a lot and occasionally broke into a small laugh. I was just about to the point where I was getting really bored and fidgety, when my dad got up and indicated that I should follow them out.

Once we got out in the hall my dad stopped me.

“Señora Garcia and I talked a bit about what we were going to do with you here. We obviously can’t put you into just any class. You wouldn’t understand a word, and it really wouldn’t do you any good. I told her that you would be continuing your education back home. So we decided that you would just spend the next couple of months in the English classes, that way there will be something familiar to you and it will help you pick up Spanish that much faster.”

Before we left the States dad had talked to the principal of my school, and made arrangements for me to home study. I would still have to return to the States about once every 2 months for a week, so I could pick up the next 2 months worth of homework, turn in the work I had done, and take any tests that needed to be taken. That way when we returned I wouldn’t be behind my class and would be able to graduate with them.

I thought about their idea with the English class and realized that it would be perfect. I had been dreading going to math, history or any other class for that matter. I knew I wouldn’t understand a word they were saying.

“That sounds great dad I won’t feel like a total ass and I bet I can even pass.”

“Watch your language young man” he said scowling, “you know how important it is for you to be an example, especially here. Everyone is going to know where you go to church and I especially don’t want to hear that you’re teaching vulgarities to all the other kids.”

“Shit” I thought, I need to be more careful around him. He is as fanatical about religion as he is about his morning paper, and it was one of the things that kept me from getting close to him. I just couldn’t tell him how much I hated his church or why. That was a secret I was going to have to keep close for a long time. I know how the church feels about gays. I hated going there week after week just so they could tell me that I was going to hell. Nobody knew about me so I knew it wasn’t directed at me personally but it sure felt like it was and I was scared to death of what my parents would do when they found out. So I went with them every week. I hated how it made me feel. I hated God for making me think I was gay. And I couldn’t count how many nights I prayed for him to take it away from me.

I will never forget the first day I realized I was different, it was the summer between third and fourth grade. I guess I must have been 8 years old. My best friend, Russ, moved away that year. It was only like thirty miles away, but when your 8 years old it might as well have been a thousand. Russ invited me to a birthday party/sleepover and my mom agreed. When I got there I found out it was just going to be him and I. None of our other friends had been able to get their parents to allow them to go, and he hadn’t made any new friends yet. We spent all day goofing off. I think most of it was spent running through the sprinklers. His mom grilled hamburgers for dinner. Then we did the obligatory cake, ice cream and presents. We spent the rest of the evening in the sprinklers again. It was just getting dark when his mom came out and told us to get to bed. We were going to sleep out in his backyard in sleeping bags under the stars. I was so excited, it would be my first time doing that. She brought him out some underwear and told him to change before going to bed. She went back inside and he stripped down right there in front of me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I don’t know why I stared at him like that, he was the first boy I had ever seen naked, and I still have an image of that night burned into my memory. He looked at me kind of funny as he pulled on his underwear and climbed into his sleeping bag. I felt stupid for having stared at him. I was scared he was going to say something. I couldn’t get to sleep for the longest time that night. I know I had an erection, but I had no idea what to do with it. The next morning his mom took me home, that was the last time I ever saw him. I still get sad thinking about what I lost that summer.

The February after that my grandma became ill, and since there happened to be a house for sale next door to hers, my parents bought it and we moved. It was only 5 miles away but suddenly I found myself in a new school with only 3 months left in the year. By that time everyone had already formed their little groups, plus most of them had grown up together. It seemed like from that day on I didn’t belong. It was then I started withdrawing socially, and when I finally figured out that my attraction to boys meant I was probably gay. I formed a barrier between myself and everyone else. I went to school and went home. From that point on I didn’t have friends and I very rarely did anything with anyone. I was scared to death of what would happen if they found out my secret.

“Sean.’.

“Huh”.

“Are you okay?”

He was looking at me kind of oddly, like he knew I’d totally spaced out and was wondering where I’d gone.

“Yeah, sorry I was just thinking about something” I mumbled

“Well snap out of it son, we’re here.”

The principal opened up the door and beckoned to the teacher. Five minutes later dad was gone and I was standing alone in front of a group of strange kids. I’m pretty sure the teacher did an introduction thing, but I had no idea what she said. She pointed me to a seat up front. I sat down feeling more alone than I’d ever felt before.

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Constructive criticism and comments gladly accepted. Please email me at yaalc@yahoo.com.

Copyright Notice - Copyright ©2005 by yaalc.

This story is copyrighted by the author and the author retains all rights. This work may not be duplicated in any form, physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise without the authors expressed permission. All applicable copyright laws apply.

2005
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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