Altered Realities

Altered Realities

Altered Realities Mark A. Roeder

iUniverse, Inc. New York Lincoln Shanghai

Altered Realities Copyright © 2006 by Mark A. Roeder All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting: iUniverse 2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100 Lincoln, NE 68512 www.iuniverse.com 1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677) This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All registered trademarks mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended or should be inferred. ISBN-13: 978-0-595-39303-9 (pbk) ISBN-13: 978-0-595-83696-3 (ebk) ISBN-10: 0-595-39303-9 (pbk) ISBN-10: 0-595-83696-8 (ebk) Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to all those who fight against prejudice and hatred, no matter what form it may take.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank REC, Ken Clark, Jim Hertwig, and David Yates for proofing this manuscript. The proof-readers task is a difficult one and I can’t thank these individuals enough.

- vii -

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

“So this isn’t the end, is it?” asked Oliver. “No, Oliver,” said Mark. “This isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.” —Masked Destiny

- ix -

SEAN—GRAYMOOR MANSION—FEBRUARY 1998 “It would take a lifetime to look through all these books,” said Marshall, pulling another one from the shelf and holding it under the hanging lamp for a better view. Marshall and I were in the library, exploring the dusty, leather-bound tomes—thousands of them. “That’s typical of Graymoor,” I said. “I’ve lived here nearly a year and I haven’t even been in all the rooms yet. There’s always something new to explore.” “Something old, don’t you mean?” said Marshall, grinning. Rain mixed with sleet pelted the window panes. I stared out the window, but nothing met my gaze except for my own distorted reflection in the glass. It didn’t matter. My eyes were all but unseeing. “What’s wrong?” asked Marshall, looking up from his book. I turned to him. “I was just thinking about Marty. It was on a night like this that he disappeared.” Marshall closed the book and returned it to the shelf. “I know you miss him. I can’t pretend to understand. I don’t know how I’d feel if my best friend was murdered. Upset, yeah, but…it’s one of those things you have to experience to understand.” “Pray to God you never understand, then. It’s been months, but I still keep expecting to run into him in the halls at school or to pick up the phone and hear his voice, then…I remember…and it all comes right back at me.” “I’m sorry,” said Marshall. I looked into Marshall’s dark eyes and smiled grimly. “Time heals all wounds, right?” “That’s what they say.” I turned back to my reflection in the window. “He died too young.” “He’s in a better place,” said Marshall. -1-

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“Do we know that for sure?” I asked. “There is a way to check. Perhaps enough time has passed now…perhaps…” “No, Marshall. It’s not worth the risk.” “Then ask Taylor the next time he appears…or Mark.” “I don’t know. Sometimes all this is just too much,” I said. “Is living in Spook Central getting on your nerves?” “I love Graymoor, but…so much has happened. Sometimes I can’t even believe it myself.” “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” “Don’t I know it?” I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. “It’s cold in here. I just wish…I just wish I could have saved him. If only I could go back and do things over, do things right…” “Hindsight is a wonderful thing,” said Marshall. “But fairly useless, all things considered.” “Oh, I don’t know. There is much to be learned from the past. Sean?” “Sorry,” I said, wiping my eyes. Tears were running down my cheeks. I just couldn’t help myself. “Are you still thinking of Marty?” “Yes, of Marty, the friend I lost and will never see again—of the others, of Taylor and Mark. You’ve read their journals; you know what it was like for them.” “Yes.” “God, I wish I could just turn back time and save them. I’d save them all.” “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride,” said Marshall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a jerk.” “It’s okay.” I stood looking at my own reflection in the window until I became aware of the absolute silence in the room. How long had I been standing there? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? I turned. “Marshall? Marshall?” A distant look had come over Marshall’s face. He just stood there, gazing off into space. It frightened me. “Yes,” he said quietly, but I had the distinct impression he was not speaking to me. I watched Marshall as he rolled the ladder down the shelves on the west side of the room. He climbed nearly to the top and pulled down a thick, heavy tome. I noticed a glint of gold and a flash of red as the light hit it. The cover had a large,

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flat, rectangular, jewel that looked like a ruby set into gold. Marshall climbed down, blew away the dust of a century, and placed the book on the large marble-top table in the center of the room, right under the old-fashioned gas chandelier that had recently been converted to electricity. A gust of wind shot through the room, though the windows and door were fast shut. The book blew open and Marshall put his finger to a page. “Yes!” “Marshall? I don’t like this…” Marshall began speaking, chanting in a language unfamiliar to me, yet familiar in a way. It wasn’t quite English, yet I could almost understand part of it. I caught bits and pieces…perce…swich…straunge strondes…tyme and space. Tyme and space? Time and space? “Marshall, what are you doing? Stop. Marshall, stop!” A vortex formed around Marshall, a whirling cyclone of wind and debris, yet he and the table were untouched by it. I was not so lucky. I leaned hard into the wind, fighting to remain standing, fighting to make my way to Marshall. I could hear his voice above the wind, chanting. The howling wind became deafening, then…silence…blackness. I could see nothing. It was as if I’d gone blind. I could hear nothing, save for my own ragged breath. “Marshall? Marshall?” My eyes slowly adjusted to the absence of light. I felt my way toward the light switch. I searched, but could not find it. I remembered then the flashlight I’d set on the marble top table when we’d entered. I never walked about Graymoor without a light. Large portions of it were unlit, and you never knew where you would end up when walking the twisted halls of Graymoor. I made it only halfway to the table when my right foot shot through the floor, or rather where the floor was supposed to be. My thigh hit hard against jagged wood, causing me to cry out in momentary pain. Luckily, the hole was not large or I might’ve fallen to my death. I pulled myself up and limped toward the table, no longer sure of anything. I found the flashlight easily enough and switched it on. Marshall was nowhere to be seen. I looked at my hand. It was blackened as if I’d stuck it into a chimney and pulled it out covered with soot. I shined the flashlight around the room. “What the…” The walls were darkened and burned in places; the ceiling was blackened as if by smoke. I shined the light onto the windows. The reflection I’d seen only minutes before was gone. The glass was gone! All the windows had been broken. I

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next shined the light onto the hole in the floor. It looked as if a fire had burned through from the floor below. None of what I was seeing made sense! I turned the light onto the table. The book was still open to the page Marshall had read out loud. I looked at the strangely spelled words upon the page. “Middle English,” I said to myself. I recognized it from my literature class. We’d read part of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in the original Middle English. “Where are you?” I said, turning my attention to the shelves. “I know you’re here. I saw you just a few minutes ago!” I pulled yet another tome from the shelves—a Middle English dictionary. I’d been thumbing through it earlier in our explorations. I began to clumsily translate the text Marshall had recited and, as I did so, my fear grew. No, it couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t! “Marshall,” I said out loud to the darkness. “Oh my God, Marshall, what have you done?”

TAYLOR—NOVEMBER 3, 1980 I stumbled past the high school, the rain plastering my hair to the sides of my face. Icy water swirled around my toes as I ran. I slowed to a walk, holding my side, gasping for breath. I trembled with cold and fear. My shirt, shorts, and boxers were soaked with the freezing rain that continued to fall. I was so cold…so cold. I fought to blink my tears away as another sob rose up from my chest. This was it; this was the end. Shivering, I staggered on across the empty parking lot and onto the soccer fields. I thought of Mark, and fresh sobs assaulted me. “It’ll be better this way,” I said to the cold, unforgiving darkness. I made it to the soccer goal, my limbs numb with the cold. I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. The icy rain hit my face, stinging and freezing. No more pain soon, no more. I’d make it all go away. I sank down against the soccer goal and looked into my hand. The bottle of pills was still there, clutched in my frozen fingers. I fought to release them, my grip set as if rigor mortis had already taken possession of me. I fumbled with the lid, but it would not come off. “Taylor! Taylor!” A voice in the darkness called out to me. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. “Taylor! Don’t! For God’s sake, don’t!” I heard sloshing footsteps—someone running toward me. I struggled with the lid. “No, Taylor! You can’t! No!” The bottle of pills flew from my hand, knocked away. I looked up as the frigid rain ran into my eyes, mingling with my hot tears. I blinked my eyes into focus. “Who are you?” I asked. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Leave me alone!” “No, Taylor. I won’t let you do this. If you only knew…”

-5-

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I reached for the bottle, crawling toward it on hands and knees. The boy who’d appeared in the darkness grabbed me around the waist and pulled me away. He snatched the bottle, opened it, dumped the contents onto the mud, and ground the pills into nothingness with his foot. I lay in the mud, fighting for breath, fighting for warmth, sobbing. “It’s okay, Taylor. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay now.” The boy pulled me to my feet. My head swam. “I’m so cold,” I said shivering. “And I’ve no coat to give you.” I looked at the boy who’d placed my arm over his shoulder. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt only. His eyes and hair were dark. “Who are you?” I asked. “I’m Marshall,” he said as he gazed at me, his eyes full of wonder. Headlights blinded us for a moment from the distant parking lot. Doors slammed, and three figures ran toward us as if the hounds of hell were chasing them. “Taylor! Taylor! Thank God!” I turned my eyes toward the sound of the voice. My thoughts were cloudy, my body racked with pain. “Brandon?” “Yes, it’s me, Taylor. I’m here. Oh my God! I thought we’d lost you. I thought you’d…” Brandon was crying. Yes, it was Brandon. “God, you’re freezing, both of you,” said Brandon. “Jon, Ethan, help me get them to the car.” Brandon and Jon took me from…from…I’d forgotten his name already. Everything was so foggy. They pulled my arms over their shoulders and carried me. My strength was failing. I couldn’t have walked on my own. “Here, let me help you,” said…Ethan? Yes, Ethan. He was helping the other boy. “Thanks.” “Who are you?” asked Ethan. “I’m Marshall.” We were both dumped in the back seat of Brandon’s car. They covered us with blankets. My teeth chattered. Everyone climbed in. Brandon started the car and turned on the heater full blast before driving through the dark rain. My fingers began to ache as feeling returned to them. “Is Mark home yet?” asked Jon.

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“I don’t know. I’ll call him from the hospital,” said Brandon. My vision blurred. I was disoriented and confused. Worried voices sounded in my ears, but I could not tell what they said. I slipped into darkness. Was this death? Images began to swirl in my mind: my father screaming at me, hitting me in the face. “Get out, you fucking little queer, and don’t ever come back!” my father shouted at me. My own father! The images faded into darkness as my mind went blank. ✶

✶

✶

✶

When my eyes opened, I was staring at a stark white ceiling. The light was bright, too bright. I closed my eyes, then reopened them. “Hey, Babe,” said a voice. Mark; it was Mark. I felt him squeeze my hand. “Hi,” I said, my voice wavering. “God, what happened?” “You don’t remember?” I concentrated for a moment. As the memories began to return to me, my eyes filled with tears. “My parents…my dad…” “I know, Taylor, I know. Brandon told me all about it. It’s going to be okay, Babe. We’ll get through this together.” I turned my head. In the bed beside me lay the boy from last night; at least I thought it was last night. He was sleeping, dead to the world. I turned my attention back to Mark. “I’m sorry,” I said, and started crying. I knew what I’d tried to do, and I knew how much it would have hurt Mark. What had I been thinking? “It’s okay, Babe. It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. I’m here with you now.” Mark pulled me to him and held me close. I cried like a baby for a few moments, then lay back in bed once more. Mark held my hand. “I was so scared. I felt so…hopeless. The pain. Nothing mattered but getting rid of the pain. Oh, God, I almost…” Mark gazed at me, more concerned than I’d ever seen him. “Brandon told me you said you’d be better off dead.” “Yes, I’m sorry, Mark. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t think. It just hurt so bad…my dad…everything that’s happened. I

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just…snapped, I guess. I was going to…I almost…but then he stopped me,” I said, looking at the sleeping form in the bed next to me. Mark looked at the boy. “Ethan said his name is Marshall. No one seems to know where he came from.” “Yes, that’s it: Marshall. He saved me. He knocked the pills out of my hand. He crushed them into the mud. If he hadn’t been there…” Mark raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again, Taylor. Never again. I couldn’t live without you. I’d have killed myself if you’d succeeded. I couldn’t have stood it.” “I promise,” I said. I drifted off to sleep again, for how long I don’t know, but when I awakened, Mark was still holding my hand. Marshall had awakened, too. He’d arisen and dressed. “Welcome back, Babe,” said Mark, running his fingers through my hair. He kissed me on the cheek, then the lips. I smiled. Marshall had come to the edge of my bed. I turned to him. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for saving my life. I was out of my head last night. It was last night, wasn’t it?” “Yes, and you’re welcome,” he said awkwardly. “Who are you?” I asked. “I’m Marshall.” “I know that, but who are you? I’ve never seen you before.” Marshall hesitated. “I…I don’t think I can…” “It’s alright,” said Mark. He paused for a moment. “Are you a runaway?” “Yes. I’m a runaway,” said Marshall. “I don’t belong here.” Mark grasped Marshall’s hand, and the dark-haired boy looked down at it in wonder. Marshall had a peculiar look on his face, as if he was afraid of us or in awe of us, although neither explanation made sense. “We’ll help you,” said Mark. “We’ll help you anyway we can. I…I owe you everything.” “Thank you,” said Marshall. He looked as if he might cry. I wondered what he had run away from. In any case, he was homeless, just like me… “What am I going to do now?” I asked Mark. “I can’t go home again.” “Maybe we can talk to your mom.” “No!” I said firmly. “No, I’ll never go back there! I’m not welcome. They don’t love me. My father told me he no longer has a son.” Mark had tears in his eyes. He felt my pain as keenly as I did myself.

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“Maybe you can live with Aunt Anne. You liked it there, didn’t you?” “No. I mean yes, I liked it there. It was wonderful, but I won’t be separated from you.” “Maybe my parents will let me move there with you.” “We both know that’s not going to happen, Mark. Your parents hate me. They hate the very thought of us together.” I looked at Marshall. Perhaps we were saying too much in front of him, but I owed him my life, and he’d seen Mark kiss me. “You’ve probably guessed that we’re gay. Mark is my boyfriend, so if that bothers you, I’m sorry, but…” “It doesn’t bother me,” said Marshall. “Are you…” “No,” said Marshall. “I’m not gay, but I understand. I have…had some gay friends, back where I used to live.” Marshall looked about uncertainly, as if he expected the walls to close in on him—or simply disappear. “I wish you could stay with me,” said Mark, gazing into my eyes. “Like that’s going to happen. Your parents would kick us both out on the street.” “I’ll leave home. We’ll run away together, the three of us,” said Mark, looking at Marshall. “No. I won’t let you give up your home and your parents for me, Mark.” “My dad hates me anyway.” “He doesn’t hate you. Maybe he’ll understand in time. And your mom, she’ll come around someday, Mark. I know she will. Don’t throw away what you’ve got with them. I know how much that’s worth. I’ve lost my parents. I don’t want you to lose yours.” “Maybe you could live with Brandon,” said Mark. “Yeah, like his dad would go for that. He already thinks Brandon might be queer. If Brandon asked if I could move in, well, I can just imagine…” “His dad is an idiot. Brandon is as hetero as they come.” “There’s no place for me here,” I said. “There’s got to be.” I sat there and thought long and hard, considering and discarding one possibility after the next. “Graymoor,” I said finally. “Taylor, you can’t be serious. You can’t live in Graymoor. It’s abandoned! It’s haunted!”

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“If there are ghosts there, they’ve never bothered us,” I said. “Yeah, Graymoor. I could live there, at least for a while. I could still go to school. I’ll need to get a job or something, but…yeah, I could do it.” I was beginning to see the faintest ray of hope for the future. “I can’t bear to think of you living alone in that horrible place.” “It’s been good to us so far, hasn’t it?” I asked. “And maybe,” I said, looking at Marshall, “maybe I wouldn’t have to live there alone.” “Me?” said Marshall, “Live in…in this Graymoor place you’re talking about?” Was it fright or excitement I heard in his voice? “Yes. You’re a runaway, right? It’s abandoned, a bit scary, and huge, but it’s dry inside. It’s not so bad really. No one ever goes there, so no one would bother us.” Marshall smiled. “I like this idea. I sure have no place else to go.” “You’d better take a look at it before you decide,” said Mark. “Graymoor can be rather…intimidating.” “Oh, I’m sure I can handle this Graymoor place,” said Marshall. “It sounds like it’s right up my alley.” Our conversation was interrupted when a doctor walked into the room. I’d never seen him before, but then I’d been unconscious during most of my stay. He gave me a nod and walked over to Marshall. “We’ve been unable to reach your parents,” he said. “In fact, the number you gave us is disconnected.” Marshall looked uncomfortable. “Well, uh, that’s not surprising. Things have been kind of tight recently, bills piling up, that sort of thing, you know? My parents probably couldn’t afford the bill.” “And you say you’re here visiting friends?” “Yes,” said Marshall, pointing to Mark and me. “I see.” The doctor looked back and forth between us. “Is there anything any of you boys want to tell me?” We shook our heads. “Like what?” asked Mark. “Such as Marshall being a runaway.” “He’s not a runaway, sir. None of us are. I was in this very hospital not all that long ago. You can check the records if you like and you’ll find my parents’ signatures. I’m Mark Bailey. I know you’ve talked to Taylor’s mom.” I looked at Mark. That was news to me. “Yes, but the hospital can’t give treatment to a minor without the permission of a parent or guardian.”

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“I don’t need any treatment,” said Marshall. “I was just out in the freezing rain too long.” “Yes,” said the doctor. “You had a mild case of hypothermia and were in a slight state of shock.” “So, what’s the problem? I feel fit and ready to leave right now.” “We still need the signature of a parent or guardian before you can be released.” “Well, my parents are far away, I told you that, and since you can’t reach them, what are we going to do? You can’t hold me prisoner here.” “I’m afraid we’ll have to call the authorities.” Marshall swallowed. “Marshall is staying with me,” said Mark. “Perhaps you can call my parents, and they can give you these signatures that are so damned important.” I was amazed that Mark was such a cool liar. “Okay, that will be our next step then. If Marshall is currently living with your parents, they can be considered in loco parentis.” “Loco what? Doesn’t that mean crazy?” asked Mark. “In Spanish, yes; in Latin, no. It means that they are acting as his parents.” “Oh, well then, that should solve things.” “We’ll see. Now, as for you, young man,” said the doctor, turning his attention to me. “How are you feeling?” “Much better!” “You’re a lucky boy. When you were carried in, you were suffering from severe hypothermia and shock.” “Well, I feel fine now.” “You’re going to be fine, but you need rest. You also need to stay out of the freezing rain. Just what were you boys doing outside on a night like that anyway?” “Playing soccer,” I lied. “Well, next time, save the soccer for a clear day.” “Yes, sir.” The doctor grinned. “Your mother has already signed your papers, so you’re free to go. In fact, I can have an orderly come with a wheelchair to escort you out right now.” “I don’t need a wheelchair.” “Sorry, hospital policy. Just enjoy the ride.” The doctor left the room.

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“Just how much trouble are you going to be in when the hospital calls your parents and asks about Marshall?” I asked Mark. “Plenty, I’m sure, but that’s not our biggest problem. We’ve got to get Marshall out of here.” “I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Marshall, switch beds with me.” “Huh?” “When the orderly comes to get me, you go instead.” “You think that will work?” asked Marshall. “You think they’ll just wheel me right out the front doors?” “Why not? As long as the orderly thinks you’re me, it should work. Mark can walk out with you. I’ll wait a minute, then slip out myself.” “This sounds a little too easy,” said Marshall. “A simple plan is usually the best. Besides, this is a hospital, not a maximum-security prison. If our doctor doesn’t spot you, you should be fine.” “And if he does?” “Then run like hell.” Marshall laughed. We switched beds. “Wait a minute,” said Marshall. “What if someone catches you leaving?” “I’m supposed to be leaving. I just won’t be in a wheel chair. I doubt they’ll lock me up for that.” “I guess that’s true,” said Marshall. “What are you doing?” I asked Mark. He’d picked up the phone. “Calling Brandon. We’re going to need a ride back to Verona, and my driving privileges are still suspended.” “Good idea.” Five minutes later we were all set. The plan was in place, and Brandon was on his way. We’d all rendezvous as soon as possible at Southard’s Diner, just down the street. “Where’s that wheelchair?” asked Marshall. He was getting antsy. If the doctor called Mark’s parents before Marshall could get out, things would get complicated. Blessedly, the orderly arrived just then and wheeled a chair over to Marshall’s bed. “Okay, Taylor, your chariot awaits.” Marshall laughed and climbed in. “See you later, Taylor,” I called as Marshall and Mark departed. As soon as they were out of sight, I whipped the covers back, ripped off the flimsy hospital gown, and dressed. I slipped out of the room and down the hall.

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Thankfully, I knew the hospital well, having visited Mark there after he’d been beaten in the locker room at school. I made for the back entrance. All went well, at least for my part. I made it out without so much as being challenged. It was a piece of cake. Mark and Marshall were at Southard’s when I arrived. “I thought I’d get here first,” I said. “We just beat you.” “Any problems?” “None.” Mark looked at his watch. “It’ll take a few minutes for Brandon to get here. Why don’t we sit down and have something to eat. We’ll look less suspicious that way, and I’m starving.” “Good plan, except I don’t have any money,” I said. “Me, either,” said Marshall. “I do,” said Mark. “I’ve got plenty to spend on my boyfriend and his savior.” Marshall blushed. We took a booth away from the window and picked up the menus already sitting there waiting on us. The waitress, an older lady with mauve hair and laugh lines around her eyes, arrived at our table a couple of minutes later. “What can I get for you boys, and will this be separate checks?” “Just one check, and I’ll have chicken strips, fries, and a large Coke,” said Mark. “I’ll have the breakfast pancake special,” I said, “and iced tea.” “Um, how about a double cheeseburger and fries and a medium Coke?” said Marshall. “I’ll get these right in.” Our waitress departed, and Mark leaned over the table. “Okay. Planning session,” he said. “Before that,” I said. “The doctor said my mom came and signed some papers. Did she visit me while I was asleep?” Mark shook his head. I was disappointed, but not surprised. Mom hadn’t disowned me as Dad did, but she sure hadn’t done anything to keep him from kicking me out of the house. “I’m sorry, Tay. Maybe she’ll come around yet.” “Maybe,” I said without much enthusiasm. “So, planning session…” “Okay, if you guys are going to live in Graymoor for a while, you’ll need supplies—flashlights, toothpaste, food, like that. When Brandon gets here…” “When Brandon gets here what?”

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We looked up. “The cavalry has arrived,” said Mark. “Take a seat and grab a menu.” “How are you, Taylor?” asked Brandon, scooting in beside Marshall. “I’m fine, thanks.” “You had us worried last night.” “Yeah, I’m sorry. I…I’m really sorry.” I didn’t quite know what to say. “It’s okay,” said Brandon, smiling. “I’m just glad you’re all right, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll kick your ass.” “I won’t,” I said, feeling supremely embarrassed. I didn’t know if I could live with my friends knowing I’d almost killed myself, but I guess it was better than not being alive. Our waitress walked over, and Brandon quickly ordered the same thing I had. “Now, like I was saying,” said Mark. “If you guys are going to hide out in Graymoor…” “Graymoor?” asked Brandon. “Yeah, try to keep up.” Mark grinned. Brandon flipped him off. “You’re going to need some supplies. So, if Brandon will be so kind, we’ll make some stops and get you what you need.” “That’s going to cost an awful lot of money,” I said. “I’ve got some.” “I’ll pay you back for it later,” I said. “Don’t worry about that! It’s just money,” said Mark. “I’ve got money, too,” said Brandon. “And, hey, I’ll swipe some stuff from the house: toilet paper and blankets, and crap like that. My dad deserves it for not believing me when I tell him I’m straight.” “Can’t you just explain to him that you aren’t gay, just incredibly unsuccessful with girls?” asked Mark. “I hate you,” said Brandon, but then laughed. “Don’t worry, your luck is bound to improve. You’re just in a dry spell,” said Mark. “Yeah, you’re due for a downpour,” I said. Brandon smiled dreamily. “Mmm, it’s raining girls.” “I think we’re about to lose him,” said Marshall. Mark snapped his fingers in front of Brandon’s face. “Ground control to Brandon. Come in, Brandon.” Brandon turned his gaze to me. “So, are you guys really going to stay in Graymoor? You’re out of your freaking minds if you are. That place is cursed.”

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“Yes, they’re staying in Graymoor. Get with the program, Brandon,” said Mark. Brandon flipped Mark off again. “Brandon, you know I’m taken. Quit offering. Damn, you are desperate.” “Shut up.” Marshall giggled, and our food arrived. The pancake breakfast special, ordered by both Brandon and myself, included three pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. It was quite a lot of food, but I was especially hungry. I smeared butter all over my pancakes, then drowned them in maple syrup. “Man, I love pancakes,” I said. Marshall smiled at me. I noticed he looked at me a lot, especially when he thought I didn’t notice. He did the same with Mark, but not so much with Brandon. I wondered about Marshall. I don’t mean I distrusted him, because he saved my life after all, but he just seemed…odd. He had this edgy, frightened look to him. Of course, a lot of that probably came from being a runaway. I was feeling pretty edgy myself, but I had Mark and our friends to help me get over what had happened. Maybe all Marshall needed was to be reminded that he wasn’t alone anymore. We’d take care of him. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be truly alone. Half an hour later we were all stuffed. I felt guilty when Mark paid the check. I’d have to find some kind of job soon because my parents would no longer be footing the bills. I’d need money for food, clothes, and lots of other stuff. I had a little money in a checking account, but not much. I guess money was the least of my worries, though. Not only did most of my classmates hate me because I was gay, but now I was homeless, too. The future was not looking bright. Brandon drove us to K-Mart, and Mark took control of the situation, filling the shopping cart with toothpaste, toothbrushes, deodorant, candles, lighters, a lantern, and more. Sometimes Brandon stopped him by saying, “Don’t buy that, I’ll get one from home.” Mostly Mark bought food, Pop Tarts and anything else he could find that didn’t have to be cooked or refrigerated. Graymoor had no electricity, after all. Mark clicked his fingers. “Coleman stove,” he said. “Huh?” asked Marshall. “For cooking. We’ve got one in the garage. I’ll snag it, and you guys can use it in your new place.” Our new place. He made it sound as if Marshall and I were getting an apartment together and not moving into a haunted house. I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed in Graymoor, but there was a reason for that. Virtually everyone was too

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terrified to enter. Mark and I had been there several times, however. It was our sanctuary from the cruel world. I had fond memories of Graymoor. Mark and I made love there every chance we got. It was the one place we could be alone together without fear of being attacked. “Mark, as soon as I can get a job, I’ll pay you back,” said Marshall. “Don’t worry about it, dude. I owe you.” Marshall looked embarrassed. “Well, I still want to pay you back.” I guess Marshall was like me. I didn’t like someone else paying my way. Well, I’d never minded my parents paying for my food and clothes and stuff like that, but that was kind of their job, until now. We drove straight to Graymoor from K-Mart. It wasn’t dark yet, but the light was beginning to fail, creating shadows by the score. “It’s so huge,” said Brandon quietly. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” said Mark. “Remember the night Jon talked us into going inside?” “What do you mean us? I seem to remember that you refused to get out of the car.” “Well, I remember the rest of you running back to the car, screaming like girls.” “We heard screams inside the house, before we even got there!” Brandon swallowed, never taking his eyes off the four-story mansion before us. “Come on,” said Mark, shoving a bag in Brandon’s arms. “Help us carry this stuff in, then we’ll make a run to your house and mine and grab a few things.” Brandon took a deep breath and reluctantly followed Mark as he walked toward the house. I wasn’t sure, but I think he was actually shaking. Marshall seemed oddly unafraid. Perhaps he had no fear of ghosts, or maybe his unfamiliarity with the legends of Graymoor Mansion was the explanation. Perhaps ignorance is bliss. Mark opened the heavy oak door, flicked on his flashlight, and stepped inside. “Oh, God,” said Brandon quietly. “It’s okay, Brandon. Mark and I have been here lots of times.” Brandon nodded, but didn’t look particularly reassured. “I can hold your hand if it will make you feel better,” said Mark with a snicker. “Shut up.” “Let’s put the food in the kitchen,” I said. “Then, I think I remember a bedroom on the second floor that looked cozy.” “Cozy?” asked Brandon, incredulously, his voice shaking.

Mark A. Roeder

17

We made our way across the vast parlor into the kitchen. There we dug through the bags and placed all the foodstuffs on the huge table in the center of the room. “Well, you sure won’t have to worry about dishes,” said Brandon, running his own flashlight over the walls. There were large built-in cupboards, filled with entire sets of fine china and lots of old, old glassware. I was willing to bet the drawers were filled with linens. Mark gave the old pitcher pump attached to the sink a try. He pumped it several times and water began to flow. It was rusty at first, but then ran clear. “Hey, look at this!” he said. “Running water, sort of.” “It’ll sure beat having to carry it in,” I said. “Yeah, this place has everything,” said Brandon. “Just like the Hilton.” He gave a small, uncomfortable laugh. “It’s awesome,” said Marshall. Brandon stared at Marshall as if he thought he was out of his mind. “Let’s go upstairs,” I said. We walked back through the parlor to the main stairway, our flashlights cutting through the darkness, catching the ever-falling dust in their beams. Like the rest of Graymoor, the stairway was huge: wide enough for at least six people to walk abreast. It was made of dark wood, walnut probably, and ornately carved. Graymoor was a treasure. If only someone had enough money and time to restore its faded grandeur. Of course, there was the little matter of the ghosts. Mark and I had never been too disturbed by them, but I’d heard things that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I was thankful Marshall was staying with me. I didn’t want to sleep in that humongous old house alone. I walked down the second-floor hallway, searching, trying to remember. “Here it is!” I said at last, opening the door to a large bedroom. There was a canopy bed on either side of the room, each hung with velvety dark-green curtains, as well as matching marble-topped washstands and dressers. There was a large wardrobe as well and a couple of comfy armchairs near the empty fireplace. Three huge windows faced out into the yard, overlooking a room made entirely of glass, like some kind of greenhouse. The furniture was dark, but the walls were covered with old wallpaper, mostly white, with little roses all over it. There was even a dark red carpet on the floor which was in amazingly good shape for being a hundred years old. “The beds are even made,” said Brandon. “It’s as if someone still lives here and will be coming back to climb into bed tonight.” “I sure hope not,” said Marshall. “I prefer to sleep alone.”

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“This place gives me the creeps,” said Brandon. “It’s time to shut up, Brandon,” said Mark. “Sorry.” Mark put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “We need to go and pick up stuff at Brandon’s house, then mine. Will you be okay while we’re gone, Babe?” “I’m a big boy.” “I know you are,” said Mark grinning. “You’re a very big boy.” I could feel myself go red. Mark kissed me, and the whole world disappeared. It was just the two of us for a few moments. “You go on. Marshall and I will be just fine.” “We’ll be back soon,” said Mark. He kissed me again and departed. Sadness enveloped me for a moment as I watched him go. I could never bear to be parted from my boyfriend for long. “You really love him, don’t you?” asked Marshall. “You have no idea!” I said, feeling all warm inside. “Maybe I do.” “Listen, Marshall, I don’t know if you have any fears about this, but you don’t have to worry about me…you know…coming onto you or anything. I’m completely devoted to Mark, and even if I was single I wouldn’t put the moves on a straight boy.” “I’m not worried,” said Marshall. “I know a lot of guys get all bent out of shape over gay stuff, but not me. I’m completely comfortable with gay boys.” “Wow, you’re amazing. Only our best friends have stood by Mark and me. Most of them turned on us when they found out about us.” “It’s their loss.” “Yeah, well, it still hurts, you know? Sometimes, I don’t think I can take it anymore.” “Things will get better, Taylor. I know they will.” “I sure hope so.” I looked around my new home for a few moments. This particular room was in amazingly good shape. You could almost forget you were in a dilapidated mansion when the door was closed. Just then a loud moan came from down the hallway, causing my heart to race. “Welcome to Graymoor,” said Marshall. He looked more excited than frightened. “How about we get this place cleaned up before we lose the light?” I asked. “Sure thing. I’ll take care of the beds.”

Mark A. Roeder

19

Marshall stripped off quilts and sheets and took them out into the hall to shake out the dust. I pulled a can of Pledge and some paper towels out of a K-Mart bag and began to wipe away the dust of a century. There was surprisingly little of it. The lemony scent of Pledge and old wood soon permeated the room. After several trips out into the hall to shake out the blankets, Marshall came back into the room with an antique sweeper he’d discovered somewhere. “How’s that thing work?” I asked. “I’m not sure,” said Marshall, grinning. “It’s got some kind of brush that turns when you push it.” He pushed the sweeper back and forth over the floor and the dust and dirt began to disappear. I’d never even heard of a non-electric sweeper before, but it was working. By the time Mark and Brandon returned, we had our little room cleaned up nicely. It was actually rather pleasant, if a bit spooky. We’d lit a few candles and turned on the lantern Mark had purchased. There was no electricity in Graymoor. There never had been. “Wow, this place cleaned up nicely,” said Mark, setting a box on my bed. “Yeah, I’m surprised no one else has ever taken up residence in Graymoor.” “I’m not,” said Brandon. “This place freaks me out. I wouldn’t set foot inside for anyone else.” “I appreciate it,” I said. “If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to get out of here. You coming, Mark?” “Nah, I’ll walk home. I want to spend some time with Taylor.” “I bet you do,” said Brandon, grinning. “Catch you guys later.” “Thanks, Brandon,” I said again. “No problem. You need anything, you just tell me.” With that he was gone. Mark pulled me to him and kissed me. Marshall seemed completely undisturbed by it. We sat on my bed and joined hands. Marshall took a seat on his own bed just across the room. “So what’s your story?” asked Mark. Marshall looked uncomfortable. “I’ve been on the run for a few weeks, just moving from place to place.” “It must be tough for you.” “Well, I must admit I feel kind of lost and alone. I don’t think I can describe it, really.” “Where’d you get those shoes?” I asked. I’d never seen anything like them. “Oh, um, Mom bought them for me before…you know. They’re some kind of new design.”

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Marshall swallowed. He seemed uncomfortable. “So why did you run away?” asked Mark. “I’d, um, rather not talk about it.” “Okay, that’s cool. I was just curious. We won’t pry into your private life.” “Thanks,” said Marshall. Mark looked at me. I could tell he wanted some alone time with me. He had that look in the eye, the one that made me want to jump on him. He leaned over and kissed me. “I think I’ll run downstairs and get the kitchen into shape,” said Marshall. “Want some help?” I asked. “No. I can handle it. Besides, you guys look like you need to be alone.” “Thanks,” I said. Marshall smiled, grabbed a flashlight, and departed, closing the door behind him. “I like your new roommate,” said Mark. “Me, too.” I stared into Mark’s eyes, pulled him to me, and kissed him with hunger and passion. It was good to be alive.

SEAN—GRAYMOOR MANSION—FEBRUARY 1998 A cold fear gripped me, worse than the first times I’d witnessed the ghostly reenactment of the Graymoor murders, worse even than when Kyle and his buddies chased me through Graymoor, intent on killing me. I shivered and realized the room had grown much colder, too. I took my flashlight and searched the wall near the door, my fear increasing. “It’s not here,” I said to myself. “Why isn’t it here?” I very much feared I knew the answer. The library was a mess. Other than the table at which Marshall had stood, all was in disarray. It looked as if there had been a fire. All the windows were broken and rain was blowing in. There was soot and dirt on the floor. Books were scattered everywhere. Marshall had done something, that much was certain, but it did not explain the state of the library. There had been no fire, no explosion. The lights had simply gone out, and Marshall had disappeared. No, the lights hadn’t just gone out; they were gone, as if they’d never existed. I left the library, walked down the hall, then down the stairs to the third-floor landing. Everywhere I looked there were signs of destruction. There had been a major fire, that much was certain. The air was filled with the scent of mold, rot, and old smoke. I had to pick my way carefully because the floor had weakened in places. Sections of the banister were also gone. I made my way to my own room, but it, too, was in ruins: blackened and burned. Gone were my stereo and my little TV; in fact, gone was everything that was mine. The windows of my room had all been broken. Every window I’d come across in Graymoor was destroyed as if they’d all suddenly exploded or vandals had spent hours busting them all. There was broken glass everywhere. This has to be a dream. I rushed down the hallway. “Avery?” - 21 -

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I entered my cousin’s room. Like mine, it bore no trace of his existence and lay in ruin, looking like it had been abandoned for years. I turned and left, running down the hallway, then down the stairs. “Mom? Dad?” I reached the first-floor landing. The parlor was bathed in darkness. Only scant moonlight shone through what had once been the windows, illuminating dusty, blackened and overturned tables, love seats, and couches. I looked for one of the many lamps that were supposed to be scattered throughout the room, but there was none. My heart beat rapidly in my chest. “Mom? Dad? Avery?” I stumbled toward the light switch to the big chandelier, but I knew it wouldn’t be there even before I reached it. There was only a bare patch of wall where the switch was supposed to be. I hurried toward the kitchen. I flung open the doorway, the beam of my flashlight cutting through the dust hanging in the air. There was no sign my family had ever been there. “Mom? Dad? Avery?” I knew I’d get no answer. They weren’t here. They’d never been here. A sharp wail from somewhere inside the house forced me to inhale sharply. A disembodied voice near me commanded, “Get out!” I shook with fear. There was such malevolence in the room that I was nearly nauseated from it. I’d never known such terror before. “You must leave this place now, before it’s too late,” said another, kinder voice. “Go!” called both voices, almost in unison. I bolted for the kitchen door. I flung it open and ran out into the night, suddenly terrified of what had been my home. The door slammed shut behind me, and a moan rent the air. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I ran down the street until I couldn’t run anymore. I just stood there in the darkness as the cold rain began to soak through my clothing. Okay, calm down, Sean. Just think. What’s your next step? “Nick,” I said out loud. “I need to see Nick.” I was already heading in the direction of the Selby Farm, so I just kept on going. Perhaps my unconscious mind had herded me in that direction. I fought to calm myself, but if what I suspected was true…But it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Are you sure, Sean? After all the stuff you’ve seen, can you really say that anything is impossible?

Mark A. Roeder

23

I thought of all the ghosts I’d seen in Graymoor—of the possession I’d witnessed and of my own. I remembered being controlled by another being, trying my best to kill Marshall as my own soul fought against it. Marshall. He’d been there one moment and gone the next. I was looking right at him when everything had changed. This couldn’t be real, but it had to be real. I walked on, saving my flashlight. Even in the rain-soaked darkness I knew my way. How many times had I ridden my bike along this route to go to work on the Selby Farm? How many times had I raced along it, yearning to wrap my arms around my boyfriend, Nick? I left the town streets and followed the narrow road toward the farm. It wasn’t all that far. A few minutes more and I was walking down the winding gravel drive, but it was overgrown, the grass in the center was waist high. I could see no lights in the farmhouse ahead. There were no lights at all. I walked around to the back door, the door everyone always used. It stood open. I snapped on my flashlight and shined it inside. Deserted. I stepped in. There was the old kitchen table, sitting where it always did, but it was covered with a thick layer of dust and bits of plasterboard that’d fallen from above. The chairs were scattered about the kitchen, broken. I moved through the house. The living room was empty except for the ruins of an old couch. Every room was the same, ruined and empty but for bits and pieces of old furniture. I walked upstairs to Nick’s room. The door swung open with a loud creak. There was nothing but an old bed there, tilted at an angle where one of the legs had collapsed. I sat down on it and cried. Nick was gone. My boyfriend was gone. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. “Marshall, what have you done?” I asked the darkness. The old farmhouse was as cold as Graymoor, the February chill biting me even indoors. I couldn’t stay or I’d eventually freeze. I needed to get myself warm and think things out. Something had happened, something bad, and that was putting it lightly. I had a feeling I was in a more dangerous situation now than I ever had been in my entire life. “Taylor! Mark!” I cried out loud. “I need you! Something’s gone wrong! Something’s gone very, very wrong!” There was no answer. Taylor and Mark didn’t appear on command, but when the situation was dire before, they were there. My cries were met with silence, and my blood ran cold. Somehow, I knew in my heart that they weren’t merely choosing not to answer. They just weren’t there. I stood and quickly walked out of the farmhouse. It suddenly seemed more haunted than even Graymoor. What should have been a place of love, comfort,

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and warmth was cold, empty, and desolate. What had happened to Ethan, Nathan, and my boyfriend, Nick? I walked back into town and made my way to Café Moffatt. I needed to think things through, and I had to get warm. I walked quickly, almost running, but not quite. My thoughts ran with me, disorganized and random. I tried just to blank my mind, but there were too many thoughts, too many unanswered questions, and too many fears. Café Moffatt was unchanged at least—well nearly. There was nothing I could put my finger on, but it didn’t seem quite right. The booths were where they’d always been, and I took a seat in one looking out the window. The tables weren’t in the same positions they’d been in before. The owner could have reorganized them, of course, but I’d been in the café only the evening before. I didn’t recognize my waitress when she came to the table, and that was odd. I knew them all. “What have you done to your hair, Sean?” she asked. “My hair?” “Uh, yes…you were blond yesterday. Did you have it dyed?” “Um, yeah.” I’m supposed to be blond? “Your mother actually let you dye your hair?” “Um, no.” “Uh-oh. Has she seen it yet?” “No.” My waitress whistled. “I hope she takes it well. Just remind her you could have gotten a Mohawk instead. Perhaps that will put it in perspective for her.” I laughed uncomfortably. My waitress departed, leaving me with a menu, a glass of ice water, and my thoughts. Was I supposed to be blond? How did that happen? I guess it was just one of the little surprises life now had in store for me. I was beginning to suspect there would be a great many of them. I shivered. It was warm in the café, but I was soaked. The mere fact that the waitress knew me was good news. It meant I still lived in Verona. If I was supposed to be in Ohio or Texas or somewhere else I would’ve probably never found my family. All in all, things were a lot better than they could have been. I looked at the menu. It wasn’t right. The pecan pancakes that I so loved weren’t on the menu at all. They’d always been there before! A lot of other items were missing from the menu, too, replaced by totally different ones. My waitress was back soon. “Know what you’d like?”

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25

I realized I wasn’t terribly hungry. “Um, a bowl of oatmeal and some hot tea, please.” “No western omelet this evening?” “Western omelet?” “Your usual.” “Oh, uh, no, I thought I’d try something different. I really just want something to warm me up.” “It is a cold one, isn’t it?” “It sure is.” “I’ll get this right in for you, hon. Won’t be but a minute.” “Thanks.” My hot tea was sitting on the table in seconds, and I gratefully poured the steaming water over a tea bag. I held my hands around the cup, luxuriating in the warmth as my tea brewed. The café itself was rather warm, and I reveled in it. I was beginning to dry out and to feel better, physically, at least. My thoughts calmed as I removed the tea bag and stirred sweetener into the mug. I didn’t want to face the reality of the situation I found myself in, but I had no choice. There was no denying the truth. The evidence was piling up and up. I’d translated enough of the spell that Marshall had recited to know that’s just what it was—a spell. What’s more, it was a spell having to do with time. Marshall had sent himself into the past, of that I was sure. If he’d gone into the future, nothing in the present would’ve been changed, but so much had changed it was scary. He’d gone into the past all right. The question was why? I was willing to bet an evil force was behind it, and I had little doubt it was Devon. Had he somehow possessed Marshall? Surely Marshall wouldn’t have been stupid enough to mess with magic, to mess with the past. Then again, Marshall had done some pretty foolish things before, but surely he wouldn’t have been this stupid. Had he never watched Star Trek? The one thing you never, never do is screw around with the past. The results could be catastrophic. Damn! Where was Marshall when I needed him? Well, I guess I knew the answer to that, sort of. He was in the past somewhere, but I didn’t know where, or rather I didn’t know when. What if he went so far back he hadn’t even been born yet, and what if it caused him to be unborn or something? Marshall might not even exist anymore. Maybe it didn’t work like that, though. It was also possible that Marshall did exist in the present. If so, he’d be older, how much older depending on how far he’d gone back. He’d obviously know things had gone wrong if he was in the present, so wouldn’t he try to contact me? Then again, why hadn’t he contacted me the second he disappeared? He could’ve done that.

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He could’ve made sure he showed up just after he vanished. Or he could’ve returned before he left and kept himself from going back into time at all. I didn’t know. It was all so damned confusing! I guess I didn’t need to think about Marshall showing up. If he did, he did, then we’d discuss things. I could go in circles thinking about the whole time-travel thing and just drive myself insane without getting anywhere. One thing I did wonder about is why I knew things had changed. I mean, if Marshall went into the past and changed it, no one should’ve ever known but him, right? My whole life could have been altered, and I’d know nothing about it. For all I knew, it’d been altered dozens of times. For some reason, I was aware of the change, however. I obviously hadn’t gone wherever Marshall had gone, since I was still here, so then why wasn’t I walking around like everyone else thinking everything was perfectly normal? Maybe it was because I had been caught in the vortex. I hadn’t been in the center of it with Marshall, but I’d been on the edge of it, right in the wind, with stuff flying in my face. Thanks, Marshall! Maybe it held me in the correct reality or something. What if there were two of me now—the Sean who didn’t change and the one who lived in the altered timeline? That would be messed up. I guess I’d find out about that, too, because Verona wasn’t that big. I’d eventually run into myself if there were two of me running around. Oh, this was truly a nightmare! Stick with reality, Sean. But just what was reality? I felt as if I didn’t know anymore. I’d adjusted to the existence of ghosts okay, and even angels, but this? This was madness. I looked down and realized I’d finished half my mug of tea and I couldn’t even remember drinking it. My oatmeal arrived just then, and I sprinkled sweetener on the top. Mmmm, it was tasty and warm. I wished I had someone I could talk to about all this, but if I opened my mouth about it to anyone, they’d lock me up for sure. Nick was the one person who might’ve believed me, but I had no idea where he was, or even if he was. The thought brought a sob to my throat. First things first, Sean. I guessed the first order of business was checking out the lie of the land, so to speak. I needed to find out who still existed in my life, or at least who was still in Verona, then figure out how I fit into it all. I decided the first thing on my list was to go home, or to what had been my home before my parents carted me off to Graymoor. Of course, there was no guarantee they hadn’t moved somewhere else. I realized with a shock there wasn’t even a guarantee that I’d been born. I

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might walk up to my parents only to have them be clueless as to my identity. If that was the case, I sure couldn’t say, “Hi, I’m Sean. I’m your son in another reality.” But wait, the waitress had mentioned my mother. Things couldn’t be as messed up as I was thinking. What if I didn’t have the same mother, though? I needed to stop pondering the possibilities, for they were truly endless. I needed to stick with what I knew. One, I existed, and my memories of the past were unchanged. Two, the world hadn’t been destroyed or anything. Three, I obviously existed in this timeline, since my waitress recognized me and called me by name. Four, Nick, Ethan, and Nathan were not where they were supposed to be. Five, Marshall had disappeared, but no one would realize that significant fact but me. Six, I didn’t live in Graymoor Mansion anymore, and it had all but been destroyed. Seven, it was a Saturday, according to the calendar near the cash register, so I had very little time before I was due back in school. Eight. Was there an eight? I didn’t know, but I had enough to go on. I sat and finished my oatmeal while trying to keep my brain from exploding. I hadn’t done so much thinking in a long time. This was worse than math! Information is what I needed, and I wasn’t getting it by sitting on my butt in Café Moffatt. I swallowed the last of my tea, grabbed the check, paid, and walked out onto Main Street. I turned toward home, toward what had once been and might currently be home at least. Ah! The uncertainties were driving me crazy! Calm down, Sean, don’t drive yourself nuts. That drive was getting shorter all the time. I didn’t allow myself to stop, but just kept on walking toward home. I didn’t slow as I neared the front door. I resisted the temptation to knock and braced myself for what could happen when I walked inside. For all I knew, someone would scream because a complete stranger had walked into their home. “Sean, where have you been?” asked my mom the moment I walked in. I nearly cried with relief. My mother hadn’t changed. “And what have you done to your beautiful hair?” she asked, looking up at me from her book. Mom tossed the book aside and walked to me. She took my chin in her hand and inspected my “dyed” hair. I was glad the waitress at Café Moffatt had mentioned my hair, or Mom’s actions would have taken me completely by surprise. “I thought I might look good with dark hair.” “I’m going to remain calm,” said my mother, obviously trying to get herself under control. “I guess I should have asked first?” I said in what I hoped was a properly timid and apologetic tone.

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“You most certainly should have! Well, what’s done is done, I guess. I suppose this is some kind of teenaged rebellion?” “I’d never rebel against you. You’re my favorite mother!” Mom laughed. I knew just how to disarm her. “Just promise me you’ll talk to me before you get anything pierced or make any other major changes to your body.” “I will, Mom, and I’m sorry about not asking before I had my hair dyed. I kind of wanted to surprise you.” I was amazed at how good I was at thinking on my feet. “So is this why you’re late?” “Yeah, that and I was out walking. I’m sorry, I lost track of the time.” “You were supposed to drive your brother to his art show.” Brother? I have a brother? “I’m really sorry, Mom. I’ll make it up to you, and him.” My mind was reeling, but I guess I should have expected something like this. “You’re forgiven.” “Thanks, Mom.” Mom retrieved her book from the floor and returned her attention to her imaginary world. It was surreal being back inside my old house. It didn’t look like I remembered, but that was to be expected. The mere fact that it was my house was a huge relief. I walked to what had once been my room. Yes! I spotted some of my stuff. At least not everything had changed. One thing was sure different, though. “Hey, faggot,” said a blond boy lying on one of the twin beds. He wore small round glasses and looked nothing like me. This was my brother? “If Mom hears you talk like that, she’ll take away your crayons.” Mom had said something about an art show, right? I was pleased with my improvisation. I was going to need to become damn good at that for the next few days, maybe the next few months. How long would it take me to learn this timeline? “Those are not crayons! They’re wax pencils!” “As if there’s a difference.” “At least I don’t take it up the ass!” “Shut up,” I said. Whoa, what a mouth and what an attitude. It just figured I’d get the child from hell for a little brother. He wasn’t a whole lot younger than I was. He looked maybe fourteen and slim, but sinewy. Where did that blond hair come from and those blue eyes? I guess the hair shouldn’t have shocked me, since my own was supposed to be blond in this reality.

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“Quit looking at me, queer!” “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said. “I bet you’re grounded,” said my little brother. “Why?” “Your hair. What did you do anyway, stick your head in a toilet?” “How would you like yours stuck there?” “If you think that is gonna impress any girls, you’re sorely mistaken.” “Girls? Weren’t you just calling me queer a few seconds ago?” “You know what I mean! Now shut up and leave me alone.” My brother went back to reading his book. I tried not to stare at him, but the whole situation had me weirded out. I’d been an only child for sixteen years, and suddenly, poof, I had a fourteen-year-old brother. I realized I didn’t even know his name. I glanced at the shelf by his bed. There was a soccer trophy prominently displayed there with the name Seth Jassen on it. Jassen? My last name was Jassen? That wasn’t right. I’d been Sean Hilton for sixteen years, and now I was Sean Jassen? That would take some getting used to. A thought suddenly occurred to me, and I looked at Seth’s blond hair again. In this timeline I didn’t have the same father; either that or my parents had divorced and remarried. I almost had to have the same father, though, otherwise far more than just my hair color would be different. Why the hell was I blond in this reality, though? It didn’t make sense! If I had the same parents, shouldn’t I be exactly the same? Maybe not, though. Sean had changed the past. Maybe it somehow affected my parents. Maybe different genes won out when I was conceived. There was no use thinking about it. Things were as they were and that’s all there was to it. There was so much I didn’t know. I lay back on my bed and attempted to comprehend the enormity of the changes in my life. I’d never before realized the amount of knowledge I possessed about myself and those around me. There were literally thousands of little details and plenty that were not so little. I only noticed them now because I suddenly found myself in a situation where I couldn’t be at all sure that those details hadn’t changed. My mom seemed pretty much the same, but did she still have an addiction to chocolate; did she still love old movies from the 1940s; did she still run an antique shop? I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. I almost felt like an impostor. I guess I was, in a way, for I was not the Sean who belonged in this timeline. I still feared that a duplicate Sean would walk in the doorway. What would I do then? It seemed a distinct possibility. I obviously existed in this timeline because people knew me, but if I’d been living a life here for sixteen years, then suddenly arrived from another timeline, wouldn’t there be two of me? Maybe getting

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caught in the edge of Marshall’s spell somehow retroactively made me the Sean from his timeline. If that were so, why did I have memories from my own timeline and not this one? I was so confused! Don’t try to understand it, Sean. Just deal with whatever comes up. You’re in the Twilight Zone now. Marshall had messed with time itself. I was sure of it. Who knew what might come of that? Perhaps he’d even created a paradox. I wished I’d taken more science classes, but I had the feeling even that wouldn’t have helped. This was more like science fiction. Maybe what I should have done is watched more Star Trek. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I’d just have to take this one step at a time and deal with each situation as it came up. At least some things were the same, or nearly the same, and that gave me a sense of comfort. My room, for instance, included a little brother who didn’t exist before (from my point of view, anyway), but my stereo was the same, most of my books and CDs were the same, and I recognized some of the posters on my wall. I wasn’t living in Graymoor anymore, but at least I was back in my old home in Verona and not in some place I’d never been before. I could cling to what was familiar while I sorted the rest out. I could cling to my sanity, I hoped. I had to adjust to my new world. Who knew how long I’d be here? For all I knew, this was it. I might be stuck in this timeline for the rest of my life. I had no idea how to undo what Marshall had done. Perhaps it couldn’t be undone. I’d give that some thought, but not yet. My first priority was survival. I had to learn to fit in fast or they’d cart me off to the loony bin. One thing was for sure, I couldn’t breathe a word of the truth to anyone, because from their point of view I really would be crazy. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. My mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. I prayed I wouldn’t have messed-up nightmares. I tossed and turned, but eventually I fell asleep.

SKYE—VERONA HIGH SCHOOL LOCKER ROOM— FALL 1997 Jimmy glanced at me nervously, then quickly looked away. I grinned. I’d waited a lifetime for this day—the day when the balance of power shifted and I became the Alpha Male at last. I’d been trailing right behind Jimmy all through middle school and high school, but now, in our junior year, the chance I’d been waiting for arrived, and I grabbed it with both hands. Jimmy dressed for football practice quickly and scurried out of the locker room. Yeah, he was afraid of me now, and he had every right to be. I’d always wondered how Jimmy had managed to outshine me in the weight room. No one was more dedicated to working out than I was. I could out-bench, out-curl, out-press, and out-everything all of my teammates, except Jimmy. I’d finally discovered his secret, though, thanks to Greg Whitmore’s big mouth—steroids. Greg hadn’t been all that much in the build department at the end of the last school year, but he returned totally ripped. He didn’t have a bod like Jimmy or me, but he was closing in fast. I’d cornered Greg just after practice only the day before and coerced him into admitting that he’d been doing steroids. The real golden moment came, however, when he told me he was supplied by Jimmy Kerstadd and that Jimmy had been doing them for years. I paid a little visit to Jimmy that night and confronted him. He denied it, of course, but then I reminded him that steroid use would show up in a drug test and that he’d surely be tested if someone turned him in to Coach Gil. It was the moment I’d been waiting for since the 7th grade. I had Jimmy by the balls and he knew it. “You…you wouldn’t tell him, would you?” Jimmy had asked me, his voice shaking.

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“Not if you do what I tell you to from now on,” I said, slapping him on the back. “That’s not too much to ask for keeping such a tremendous secret, now, is it, Jimmy? After all, you’re hoping for a football scholarship and maybe a career in the NFL, right? We’re talking about millions of bucks at stake, Jimmy. You’ve got a very valuable secret there. Of course, you might not make it as a pro, but you could still coach or something. I know how you love football. You can kiss all that goodbye if someone finds out about the steroids, though.” “What…” Jimmy paused and swallowed hard. “What do you want from me, Skye?” “I’ll have to think about that,” I said. “Just think about it, though; wouldn’t you be willing to do just about anything to realize your dreams?” I’d left Jimmy with that thought. He’d eyed me fearfully in class, at lunch, and just now in the locker room. He had the look of a rabbit timidly scurrying around a lion, hoping it didn’t become supper. It was a good look for Jimmy. Greg Whitmore had acted more or less normally all day until he entered the locker room. Obviously, he and Jimmy had talked sometime after lunch. Greg had developed that frightened-bunny look, too, and I reveled in it. He wasn’t an adversary who had to be eliminated like Jimmy, but he was a rising star and it was most necessary to keep him in his place. Now that I was moving into the top spot, I’d have to watch my back more than ever. I pulled on my jock, then my pants, carefully tying the laces. Glen Barrett just about knocked me over, hopping up and down on one foot while trying to pull the shoe off his other foot, the dumbass. I didn’t say anything to Glen, but glared at him to let him know I was higher in the food chain. Sometimes guys had to be reminded where they stood. Glen mumbled a quick “sorry” and lowered his eyes, so I was appeased for the moment. I looked across the locker room at Ben Tyler. He was another Beta male I’d have to put in his place soon. Ben was nicely built. He wasn’t anywhere near the level of Jimmy and me, but he had a bod. He also had a face. He was downright pretty. He’d never given me any real trouble, but I could sense something from him. I didn’t think he quite knew his place, so he’d have to be reminded. Order had to be maintained. Jeremy Herrington smiled at me as he pulled on his jersey and exited the locker room. Jeremy was our quarterback and team captain. He wasn’t the Alpha male, but he was a kick-ass football player. No one could touch him on the field, and I had to admit he was even more talented than I was. Jeremy was a senior, so he’d be out of the way next season. Jimmy and I had been vying for the quarterback position for next year, but the second I found out Jimmy was on ‘roids that

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contest had ended. Next year I could look forward to being team captain and quarterback. It was a damned shame I couldn’t take over from Jeremy this year, but who knew? With Jimmy under control, just about anything was possible. I smiled as I grabbed my helmet and walked out of the locker room. In a single evening Jimmy had fallen, and Greg, even though he was only beginning to realize it, had placed himself under my thumb. I felt like a king who had just brought his barons under control. I could rule now with virtually absolute power. I breathed in the crisp fall air as I ran toward the field. Ah, football weather! I loved football. It gave me a real chance to show the other guys my stuff. I loved the rush of plowing into an opponent and knocking him on his ass. I loved shoving my way through the defensive line to snatch the ball from a running back. I loved to score. I loved feeling my muscles tense and flex. Practice was a lot of hard work, sure, but it was fun as well. I laughed at the guys who moaned about how tough it was—pussies! We ran laps first. As always, Jimmy and I were the frontrunners. Jimmy had always been just a bit faster than I. I could outdo him on a few exercises in the weight room (despite his steroids), but I could never take him on the track. Beginning today, however, there was a new order. As we raced around the track I looked over at Jimmy and said, “Fall back.” That’s all it took. Jimmy fell back a couple of paces behind me. Never again would he run in front of me. Never again would he best me in anything. Now you might think mine was a hollow victory, but you’d be wrong. Do you really think I give a fuck what you think, anyway? Don’t make me laugh. Yeah, Jimmy had to fall back because of what I had on him, but it was still his talents being outdone by mine. Jimmy had made a stupid mistake, not in pumping himself up with drugs, but in sharing them with Greg and thereby losing a grip on his deepest, darkest secret. I’d never be that stupid. I had a secret of my own that would blow Jimmy’s out of the water, but I’d never foolishly reveal it, as he had his. No one would ever get the drop on me. I beat Jimmy as we ran around the track, not because I was faster, but because I was smarter. Competition involved more than brute strength. If Jimmy had known that, he might have remained the Alpha Male. Scrimmages. I loved running scrimmages. It was almost as fun as an actual game. I smiled as I faced my opponent—Ben Tyler. He was an offensive lineman, and I was playing linebacker on defense. It was the perfect opportunity to put him in his place. He mistook my smile for friendliness and grinned back. I’d seen him use his smile like a weapon to disarm people. He could charm the pants off most people because he was so good looking. Even Mrs. Kafka cut him slack.

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Mrs. Leander, the art teacher, practically fawned over Ben. There were rumors floating around that Ben slept with her. I didn’t know if it was true or not. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to give Ben any suspicion that I thought he might have the prowess to seduce a teacher. Besides, I’d never know for sure if he told me the truth anyway, so it was pointless. There were a lot of bullshit rumors floating around the school at all times, but I kind of believed this one. Mrs. Leander was divorced, in her early 30s, and a looker. I could see how Ben would go for her. A lot of boys lusted after her. I could see where she’d be attracted to Ben, too. He had a muscular chest, sexy abs, that pretty face of his, and light blond hair. A guy like that was probably a divorcee’s dream. The whole forbidden aspect of such a relationship made him hard to resist, I’m sure. Jimmy snapped the ball to Jeremy, and I plowed into Ben. I drove my shoulder right into his chest and lifted him off the ground before knocking him on his ass. I struggled through the offensive line trying to sack Jeremy, but he handed the ball off to Alex, who fumbled before I got anywhere. Coach Gil shouted some instructions, and we lined up again. Ben looked slightly fearful and he took up his position across from me. I was satisfied with his expression. It meant he feared me, but not enough yet. The Beta male needed another lesson. I slammed Ben again, setting him out on his back. I dropped on him and lay full length on top of him. “What’s the matter, pretty boy, can’t take the heat?” I said in a stage whisper. “Get off me,” he spat out. I just lay on top of him, keeping him trapped beneath me for a few more moments, letting him know who was in control. Yeah, I bet you do Mrs. Leander, I thought, then got up. Later, I could tell I’d made an impression on Ben. His expression was sullen as we showered away the grime and sweat of practice. I could practically read his mind. He was just itching to get back at me, but he knew he couldn’t take me, so he was feeling all vengeful and frustrated. Guys like that could be a problem, but Ben wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Yeah, he might jump on me to try and prove he was tough, and I might be the recipient of a vicious punch or two, but he’d get the worst of it by far, and when we were through he’d limp off with his tail between his legs. If he wanted to start something, I was ready for him. “What are you looking at, Tyler? You want some of this?” I asked, grabbing my package and giving it a squeeze. “Fuck you, Skye!”

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“No way, Ben! I told you before; you wanna have sex with me, you gotta be the bitch!” That got some laughs, and Ben turned red. He gave up on his war of words. He was clearly outmatched. I thought about egging Ben on some more, but enough was enough. I’d shown him who was boss. He couldn’t outfight me, physically or mentally. I let the hot water pound down on my tired muscles. Steam rose up around me and my teammates, obscuring my view somewhat. I enjoyed the scenery in the showers. What was not to like about muscular jocks, all soapy and wet? In case you’re wondering, you got it right; I’m gay. You know my deepest, darkest secret, the one that could cost me everything, but you can’t do shit about it, so I don’t care if you know or not. If my teammates found out, it would be a whole different story. Skye would be dead meat then. They’d gang up and pound me, and there are plenty of them just dying to do it, too. They won’t get their chance, however, because unlike dumbass Jimmy, I guard my secret well. I don’t give a flying fuck if you know about it or not, ’cause like I said, you can’t do shit about it and even if you somehow managed to tell, I’d track you down and make you sorry. Make no mistake about that. See, all bases are covered. No one scores on Skye. I’ve known I swing towards guys for about three years now, ever since I was thirteen. That’s when I went through puberty and became the real me. I was okay before that. I was an athletic kid and was involved in every sport possible. It wasn’t until puberty took over that I really came into my own, though. When I saw the first real bulges developing in my arms and chest, I knew I wanted more. I began to seriously work out. Some of my friends lifted, but they were just doing kid stuff. They weren’t dedicated like me. That’s why three years later none of them had a bod like me, except Jimmy, and he cheated with drugs. He was already paying the price for that, though, and the cost was only going to climb. Yeah, I had plans for Jimmy. Knowing I was gay and doing something about it were two different things. If you were gay in Verona, you might as well have been a serial killer or a child molester or someone who collected human hearts or something like that. I was already popular at thirteen, but I knew all that would disappear so fast it would make my head spin if anyone found out. I’d always gone after what I wanted in life, but guys had to be the exception. What I wanted more than anything in the world was a naked boy, but that’s just what I couldn’t have. It was far too dangerous. I’m brave, but not stupid, you know? I’ve never put the moves on another

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guy just like I wouldn’t go to the zoo and climb into a cage with a grizzly. Some things just can’t be done. I’m a complete virgin with guys. Girls are another matter, though. I’ve learned to make do. I got my first blow job right before I turned fourteen, and I went all the way with a girl about three months after that. Since then, I’ve done plenty, but always with girls. Luckily, I can close my eyes and think of someone like Ben Tyler when a girl is getting on her knees for me or lying under me in the back seat of my car. Yeah, that’s right—Ben. Why do you think I give him such a hard time? I want him, and I want him bad. I can’t have him, so I make do with tormenting him and getting a feel of his body after I knock him on his ass in practice. Popping wood in the locker room or showers isn’t a good thing, but I have amazing control over my own body. Just ask the girls I’ve been with. Occasionally, one of the guys springs some wood in the showers, and it’s open season on him for a while. Words like “faggot” and “homo” are slung at him, but no one really means it. Pretty much everyone has it happen to them some time or other. No one wants to get too nasty because they know they could be next. Heaven help any guy who gets excited too often, though. He’d be marked as a fag, and that would be the end of him. You can bet I snap all the mental snapshots possible when one of the guys does unwillingly show his stuff in all its glory. I’m proud to say that I’m very nearly the biggest. Only Greg Whitmore has me beat. I saw him stiff a couple of times, and he has probably half an inch more. I guess it doesn’t matter, since we’re both hung like horses, but I can’t help wishing for another inch, just to have more than he does. As much as I enjoyed the scenery in the showers I couldn’t stay in there too long. Lingering could raise suspicions. Besides, the sights were nearly as good in the locker room. I mean, it’s hard to beat a buff guy wearing only a jock strap. Landon handed me a towel from behind his counter, which was the bottom half of one of those doors where the top and bottom can open separately. I don’t know what they’re called, but anyway Landon checked me out as he gave me my towel, as he always did. He was one stupid kid. I just pretended I didn’t notice because I didn’t care if he looked at my stuff or not, but he was playing with dynamite. I know there had to be other gay guys at our school, but, like me, they had the good sense to stay hidden. Landon was way too open in checking out guys. Sooner or later something bad would come of it. I took my towel and walked to my locker. I dried off, then began to dress. I always put on my shirt last because I want to give the other guys plenty of oppor-

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tunity to see my bare chest. Me showing off my torso is kind of like a lion roaring; it lets everyone know who’s boss. I grinned when I remembered I was truly in control now. Jimmy was history. He stole looks at me while he was dressing. The expression on his face was a mix of fear, nervousness, and anger. I loved every second of it. “Skye, uh, Greg and me want to talk to you alone,” Jimmy said quietly after he’d finished dressing. “That’s fine,” I said. “I’ve got some things to talk to you guys about, too.” So they wanted to meet with me alone in the locker room. I could see where this was going. Thank God Jimmy didn’t write novels. His plotlines would have been totally predictable. Jimmy and Greg stood together at one side of the locker room, talking in low voices while we waited for the other guys to clear out. I went ahead and put on my shirt. I didn’t need brawn for the upcoming confrontation. I pulled an unsealed plain white envelope out of my locker and set it down on top of my backpack. A few minutes later the three of us were alone. Jimmy and Greg faced me, their arms crossed over their chests. Their stance and demeanor would have intimidated the hell out of anyone else, but not me. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. “We need to talk,” said Jimmy. “You told me that already. So talk.” “It’s simple math,” said Jimmy. “There are two of us and one of you. Yeah, you’ve got something on us, but if you breathe one word about it, we’ll fuck you up good.” “Not bad,” I said. “If you flexed your forearms a little as you said it, you’d come off a bit more intimidating.” “I’m not kidding, Skye! You tell anyone and we’ll beat the shit out of you. You can’t take us both.” “Oh, I know you’re serious, Jimmy, but the truth of the matter is that I can take you both. That’s a moot point, however, as this isn’t coming to blows.” “Huh? Moot?” “It means it doesn’t matter, because it’s not going to happen.” “So you’ve decided to keep your mouth shut?” asked Greg. “I told Jimmy how it was going to be last night. Despite your lame attempt at intimidation, nothing has changed. You guys do what I want and I’ll keep your dirty little secret. I don’t know how desperate you are to stay on the team, Greg, but I know how much it means to Jimmy.”

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“You’re not listening!” snarled Jimmy. “Oh, I assure you, I am, but, like I said, nothing’s changed. Here,” I said, taking the envelope from the top of my backpack and handing it to him. “What’s this?” “This is a letter detailing your steroid use. I’ve given copies to a few of my…associates. Oh, don’t worry, their copies are sealed, but if anything happens to me—say, I was murdered, or just disappeared, or something like that—well, those letters will be mailed to Coach, the school board, and the cops.” Jimmy ripped the letter out of the envelope and read it, his fists crushing the paper as he gripped it. He looked up at me, an angry sneer on his face. “Do you really think I didn’t know you’d try to team up with Greg against me? I know how desperate you are to protect your secret. I’ve threatened to expose you, so of course you’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep me from talking. I’m way ahead of you, though, Jimmy, and the sooner you learn that the better off you’ll be. There’s only one way you’re going to keep me silent, and that’s my way.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “I have to get going or I’ll be late for work, but I think we understand each other. You can keep that copy if you like, but I wouldn’t leave it lying around if I were you. You’ve been far too careless already,” I said, with a pointed look at Greg. Jimmy scowled at Greg as if only then realizing what had led to his downfall. “Oh, and by the way,” I said, just before leaving. “If you two try to pull any shit like this again, I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you very, very sorry. See you later, guys.” I turned my back on them and walked out, quite satisfied with myself. The whole thing was almost too easy.

TAYLOR—GRAYMOOR MANSION—NOVEMBER 1980 “Are you going to be okay?” I asked Marshall, as he sat at the kitchen table, munching on the last of a strawberry Pop Tart. “Yeah, I’ve got some thinking to do, and I might do a little exploring in here,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be home sometime after school. I’m not sure when. I have to go job hunting.” “See you later, Taylor.” “Bye, Marshall.” I felt a little guilty going off and leaving Marshall all alone in Graymoor Mansion. He seemed remarkably unafraid of it, though. Over a breakfast of cold Pop Tarts, hot oatmeal, and water, Marshall had told me about his interest in ghosts. Well, fascination or obsession would more accurately describe it. I’d lucked out with Marshall in more ways than one. Not only had he saved my life, but he was a really nice guy, completely accepting of my sexual orientation, and he was the one person for miles around who actually enjoyed living in a haunted house. Fear of Graymoor wasn’t a problem for Marshall, but I was worried he’d get lonely. He had nothing to do all day, whereas I had school. I think the boredom would’ve depressed me. I had my own problems to consider as I walked along the unfamiliar route to school. I’d never before realized what a creature of habit I was. For months I’d walked along the same stretches of sidewalk to get to school, and now all that had changed. Everything had changed. I felt like I’d been ripped out of my life and thrown down somewhere else, lost and disoriented. Was it like that for Marshall? “Faggot!”

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I looked down at my shoes as a car load of boys drove by and hoped they wouldn’t stop and kick my ass. Violence was a constant threat in my life now. It’d been so much easier before Mark and I were outed. One mistake had cost us so much. Why couldn’t people just leave us alone? We didn’t hurt anyone. The car drove on, and I heaved a sigh of relief. How wonderful it would be if I could walk to school without fear of being molested. That was a dream that might never come true. Even when there wasn’t trouble, the fear was still there, like a monster in a dream, ready to sink its claws into my back. I stiffened as I neared the school. I could hear someone running up behind me. “Hey, Taylor! Wait up!” My fear dissolved into happiness at the sound of Mark’s voice. “Hey,” I said. “Sorry, I meant to walk you to school, but my parents were giving me the third degree over that call from the hospital.” “Did you get in much trouble?” “I’m grounded for an additional two weeks, but, hey, if Dad didn’t nail me for this, he would’ve gotten me for something else. He’s determined to keep me under house arrest; otherwise, I might go out and do something gay.” He laughed without humor. “I’m sorry, Mark.” “Don’t be sorry. It’s his problem, not ours. I’ll slip out to see you every night I can.” Jeremy cut across our path, gave us a dirty look, and spit on the sidewalk. “Fucking faggots.” A look of anger passed over Mark’s handsome features, but he said nothing. “I want to kick his ass,” said Mark, as we walked on toward the doors of V.H.S. “You should let Brandon and Jon know that Jeremy, Devon, Alex, and Rob beat you up. There’s four of us and four of them. We could fight them.” “Tay, I don’t want you fighting. I don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t want to drag Brandon and Jon into things anymore than I must, either. You know what Brandon is like. He’d likely lose control and get himself into big trouble.” “Yeah, I know, but I don’t like them getting away with what they did to you.” “There’s not much we can do about it. I’d fight back if I thought we had a chance, but Devon and his Nazis would just come back at us with bigger num-

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bers. Let’s face it: We have far more enemies than friends. That’s what being a minority is all about.” “Things shouldn’t be like this,” I said. “Yeah, well, the whole world is screwed up. Little kids shouldn’t be starving to death, either. People shouldn’t be homeless or dying of cancer, but all that’s happening, too. The world is a messed up place, but you know what? I don’t care, because I love you and that’s all that matters.” I smiled, leaned over, and gave Mark a kiss right there at the doors to the school. I heard a few muttered “faggots,” but it was worth it. Mark and I went right ahead and held hands or did whatever we wanted most of the time. We’d already been marked as the school fags, so what did it hurt? We couldn’t take things too far, of course, or we’d get busted, but it’s not like we were going to have sex in the hallways. I would have been mortified if anyone saw us doing anything beyond kissing, not because we were gay, but because I just thought that kind of thing was private. Mark escorted me to first period. When I was with him I felt safe. I knew it was a false sense of security. If we got jumped by the Nazis, we’d likely get the crap beaten out of us. If we were attacked, I was going to fight like mad. I wasn’t a fighter, but I’d do anything to help Mark. I wished I’d been in the locker room with him when he got jumped. I’m sure I would’ve been beaten up as well, but at least we would’ve had a chance. Mark and I weren’t stupid. We avoided any place where Devon and his pals could get at us easily. We didn’t even go into the bathroom alone. We went together or with Brandon or Jon. There was no use in taking stupid risks. Still, there were many times each day we were vulnerable, and it was not a pleasant thing to live in fear. At lunch our little crew sat together, Mark and I directly across from each other with Brandon and Jon next to us. Ethan and Nathan sat near us, too, as did a handful of friends. Thank God we had some friends left. I don’t know if I could have handled it if Mark and I had to sit isolated and alone every day. As it was, I didn’t see how I was going to make it until Christmas vacation, let alone through the whole school year. Even if we somehow managed to survive our sophomore year, there were still two more years to go until graduation. I felt as if we were running a gauntlet, and I had little hope of us making it safely to the end. I ate every bite of my lunch. There was food in Graymoor, but Mark had paid for it, and I didn’t know how long it would take to find a job. The uncertainty of my life frightened me. For the first time I wasn’t sure where my next meal was coming from. I guess I knew for today at least. My next meal would likely be a

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can of soup heated over the Coleman stove in the kitchen in Graymoor. I couldn’t count on having something to eat whenever I wanted it anymore, though. I knew Mark would sell the shirt off his back to keep me from going hungry, but I wanted to make my own way. With any luck I’d have a job soon, but until then things might be tight. I stole a glance at Nathan. His family was poor. He was another one who always ate everything on his tray, even if it was nasty lima beans. He was painfully thin. Did he go to sleep hungry at night? He was wearing better clothes now than in the past. He was tight with Ethan. I was almost 100 percent sure Ethan was helping him out. I respected Ethan for that. What kind of world was it where one kid had to take care of another because their parents didn’t do their job? Maybe Nathan’s parents just couldn’t do any better, though. There was neglect; then there was poverty. It was hard to think that some had so much while others had nothing. How could rich people live with themselves? An unpleasant surprise awaited Mark just after school. He was going to walk around town with me while I looked for an after-school job, but as we stepped out the main exit and down the steps, a car horn honked. It was Mark’s dad. He quickly got out of the driver’s side and walked toward us. Jon, who was walking beside us, grabbed my arm and pulled me away, knowing Mark would be in extra-deep trouble for being seen with me. It was too late. Mr. Bailey’s eyes met mine, and a look of hatred crossed his face. “Get in the car!” “Dad!” “Get in the car, now!” Mark’s dad grabbed his arm, whipped open the passenger-side door and shoved him in. Mark just barely missed smashing his forehead. I turned to rush forward, but Jon gripped my arm hard and forced me in the other direction. “What if he hurts him?” I asked. “You’ll only make it worse.” Devon was near. He’d seen the whole thing. He laughed, but moved on. His henchmen weren’t with him, and Jon was by my side. Devon wasn’t brave when he was outnumbered. “He’ll be okay, Tay,” said Jon, but his voice betrayed him. Jon was worried, too. I tried to tear my mind away from Mark. I’d been trying hard recently not to dwell on unpleasant things. When someone called me a fag or shoved me into the lockers, I just put it out of my mind and walked on. Well, that’s what I tried to do. Sometimes I could and sometimes I couldn’t.

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It was harder to put worries out of my mind when they concerned Mark. I think that was the only drawback to loving him: I worried about him all the time. What if he got beat up again? What if he got killed? There were a thousand and more horrible things that could happen to him, and all of them tormented me. Seeing him in that hospital bed after Devon and the others had beaten him nearly to death was the worst. I couldn’t bear to think of him in pain like that. “Are you going to be okay, Taylor?” asked Jon. “Yeah. I’m going to walk around and see if I can find a job.” “Want me to stick with you?” “No, you go on. I’m sure you’ve got things to do. I’ll be okay. I’ll head home before it gets dark.” “Taylor, if you need anything, money or whatever, you let me know, okay?” “Thanks, Jon.” “Are you okay for tonight? We can stop at Ofarim’s, and I’ll buy you supper.” “No, that’s okay. Mark and Brandon set Marshall and me up with some groceries. We’ll be okay for now, and I’ve got a little money put back, but thanks.” “Okay, but I meant what I said. You need anything, you tell me. I’m here for you.” “Thanks, Jon.” Jon patted my back and headed across the street. He was a true friend. ✶

✶

✶

✶

“Any luck?” asked Marshall as I walked into our bedroom. “Zip. The best I got was a “as soon as something becomes available I’ll let you know” from Ofarim’s. I think Agnes meant it, but it’s not like she needs a lot of help in there, and she’s already got someone.” “Well, that’s better than nothing. I looked in the paper, and there are a few ads for yard work. I thought I might give that a try. Maybe you should, too.” “Yeah, I might do that.” “I can’t apply for a normal job,” said Marshall. “I don’t want anyone asking questions.” “Yeah, I can see what you mean. I was thinking, Marshall, shouldn’t you be in school?” “I should be, but I can’t.” “Maybe you could go to good old Verona High School with Mark and me.” “No. If I try to enroll, the school will start asking questions. If they find out I’m a runaway, they’ll call the cops.”

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“That’s rough.” “Yeah, I guess I didn’t think things through very well, but I just…It was just something I had to do.” “I guess you can’t go back home?” “That’s impossible.” “Nothing is impossible, Marshall.” “It’s impossible for me.” Marshall stepped to the window and looked outside. I pretended not to see the tear that rolled down his cheek. My stomach rumbled. “How about some supper? I’m starving.” “Sounds good. Hey, look, it’s beginning to rain.” Large rain drops began to splatter on the window. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “I’m putting on a sweater.” “I hope you don’t mind,” said Marshall. “I borrowed one of your sweatshirts. It’s been cold in here today.” “I don’t mind. Just keep it. You’re going to need it.” “Thanks.” “Hey, you saved my life. I owe you a whole lot more than a used sweatshirt.” “I don’t know. I was chilled to the bone before I put it on. It sounds like a pretty good trade to me.” “Oh, so my life’s only worth a used sweatshirt?” “That’s not what I meant!” Marshall sounded worried. “I was just jerking you around.” I laughed as I put my arm around Marshall’s shoulders, and we walked downstairs to the kitchen. “Hey, you’ve been busy,” I said upon our arrival. At breakfast I’d noted the tidying up Marshall had done the night before while Mark and I were making love, but it looked like he’d scrubbed and polished the whole kitchen, which was no small feat, I assure you. “I figured if we were going to eat in here, I wanted it clean.” A linen tablecloth covered the table, and it was set with fine china, silverware, linen napkins and even candles. “Wow,” I said. “You have a seat, I’ll cook supper. How does chicken-noodle soup and crackers sound?” “Right now I could eat anything.” “Coming right up.”

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I started up the Coleman stove and heated up the soup in a pan Marshall had thoughtfully cleaned up. In no time at all the delicious aroma of chicken-noodle soup was wafting over the kitchen. In a few minutes, Marshall and I were seated at the table eating by candlelight. I don’t know if it was my hunger or the beautiful porcelain bowls, but the soup was the best I’d ever tasted. “I hope your boyfriend doesn’t get jealous over us having a candlelight dinner,” said Marshall, smiling. “He won’t. We have complete trust in each other, and you’re straight anyway.” “True.” Marshall paused, peering closely at me. “Is something wrong, Taylor?” “I’m worried about Mark.” “Why?” “His dad ambushed us after school and forced him in his car.” “Do you think he’ll hurt him or something?” “I don’t know, but I’m worried. I worry about him all the time. I’m so afraid they’ll hurt him again. Oh, you don’t know. I guess I should tell you. A while back, four guys cornered Mark in the locker room and worked him over pretty bad. They put him in the hospital.” “I’m sorry, Taylor.” “Hey, why the long faces?” said Mark as he entered through the kitchen door. I grinned and ran to Mark, hugging him. “Are you okay?” “Yeah. Dad gave me a lecture. I’ve been stripped of the last of my privileges, as he calls them. No television, no phone, no nothing. If soccer season wasn’t over I’m sure he would have taken that away from me, too. He took away my allowance, and of course I’m grounded until I’m forty. But hey, I’m here anyway!” “I’m sorry, Mark. It’s because of me, isn’t it? He was furious when he saw us walking together.” “No, Babe. It’s not because of you, it’s because of us. It’s because I’m not the son he wanted me to be. Your dad called mine and told him you were at Aunt Anne’s farm with me. Well, he didn’t tell him that exactly, but he knew we’d gone away together, and my parents put two and two together.” “So it is my fault.” “No, it’s not.” “Well I don’t like you getting in more trouble.”

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“I’ve pretty much maxed out on the trouble I can get into with my parents. I’m a ‘bitter disappointment’ to them,” said Mark, rolling his eyes. Mark was putting on a brave front, but I could tell he was hurt. “My dad was talking military school, but I convinced him to forget about that.” “How did you manage that?” asked Marshall. “I acted like I was enthused about the idea—all those horny boys, no girls in sight—a perfect opportunity for a little deviant like me. I asked him how soon I could go. He shut up about military school pretty fast.” Marshall laughed. “Hey, want some soup?” I asked. “No, thanks, but you two eat. Don’t let it get cold. I had supper at home. They still feed me at least. And here, I stole some dessert for you.” Mark pulled Hostess cupcakes and Snickers bars out of his pockets and tossed them on the table. “Mmmm, chocolate,” I said. “There’s only one thing I like better than chocolate.” “You’re getting that later, Babe.” “Don’t make me throw a bucket of water on you two,” said Marshall. Mark laughed. “It wouldn’t stop us.” “I miss my girlfriend,” said Marshall, sighing. “It must be rough, leaving everything you know behind,” said Mark. “Yeah, but it was worth it. I think I made the right decision,” said Marshall, gazing at us. I smiled at him and Mark, then turned my attention back to my soup.

ETHAN—VERONA HIGH SCHOOL—NOVEMBER 1980 My heart froze in fear the moment I opened my locker. There was a small folded sheet of paper lying at the bottom. When would this nightmare end? I kneeled down and picked up the note. I glanced carefully around to make sure no one was near and opened it.

I see you’re all buddy-buddy with the other fags now. Have you given up on Jon and starting fucking Mark and Taylor? You faggots disgust me. I wish all of you were dead. I have a little job for you. Tomorrow at lunch I want you to call Taylor a faggot in front of everyone. Do it or I’ll make you sorry! I was shaking. This was the worst note yet. I’d been forced to write reports for my unknown blackmailer, I’d been told what to wear to school, but this…How could I possibly say such a thing to Taylor? Didn’t he already have enough heartache? Of course, that’s what my blackmailer wanted. I hated him more than ever. What was I going to do now? The last thing I wanted to do was add to Taylor’s pain, but how could I defy my blackmailer? I’d always been terrified of what would happen if I was outed, but after seeing the way everyone treated Mark and Taylor I knew the reality of being outed was ten times worse than what I’d feared. Maybe I was a coward, but how could I face that? How could I walk down the halls while guys called me “fag” and “queer”? How could I stand knowing what they were thinking about me? I knew in my heart I couldn’t. I wasn’t that strong. A life or death decision was staring me in the face. Whichever direction I turned, I was screwed. Did I betray a friend or ruin my own life? I prayed to God to help me. Almost instantly, a solution came into my mind. It wasn’t perfect, - 47 -

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but it would save my ass and keep the pain I had to cause Taylor to a minimum. I had a solution, but it was still going to be rough. I couldn’t speak to them as we sat together at lunch, but I caught up with Taylor and Mark in between fifth and sixth period. I was so fearful and upset I couldn’t even speak at first. The whole situation had me rattled. After a few moments of awkward silence, Taylor spoke. “Are you okay, Ethan? You don’t look so good.” “I’ve got to talk to you after school,” I said. My voice was so serious and desperate that both Taylor and Mark grew silent and just looked at me. “Please,” I said, almost on the verge of tears. “It’s important!” “Of course,” said Taylor. “Of course, we can talk. Take it easy, what’s wrong?” “I…I can’t tell you here,” I said looking around. I was more than half afraid my blackmailer was watching me. “Can you meet me after school?” Just a couple of minutes later, our rendezvous was set. I walked toward my next class feeling nervous and insecure. My blackmailer was upping the ante. What might he demand of me next? I drove home after school, changed into work clothes and started on my chores. I wasn’t meeting Mark and Taylor until 7:30. Tay said he had to look around town for a job. I really needed to get my work done before dark anyway, so it had all worked out for the best. After I finished with my chores, I met Nathan out at the fencerow. He was already there and hard at work. I could tell he was pleased to see me. I enjoyed his company as well. It had been a lot lonelier working on the farm before he came around. Often we worked in silence, but it was a companionable silence. I found Nathan’s presence comforting. I lost myself in the physical labor of digging post holes. It helped to quiet the butterflies that had taken flight in my stomach. I concentrated on my muscles tensing and flexing as I worked. I tried to narrow my focus to my own body. I succeeded to a point, but I couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling that had settled upon me. In a very short while I’d be revealing my most closely guarded secret to Mark and Taylor. Nathan left for home at about 7, and some twenty minutes later I left a note for Uncle Jack and took off for Graymoor Mansion in the old Ford pickup. At first I thought Taylor was jerking me around when he said he was living there, but he quickly explained his reasons for taking up residence in Verona’s most notorious haunted house. He’d been driven there by desperation. It was hard to believe that his parents had kicked him out of the house for being gay.

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As I was driving, I considering asking Uncle Jack if Taylor could come and live on the farm, but that would only drive another nail in my coffin. I wanted to help, but I had to think about my own predicament, too. Asking him was something to consider at least. It wasn’t long at all before I’d pulled the truck up to Graymoor. I nervously eyed the old mansion. I’d never been inside and had no desire to enter. If I hadn’t trusted Mark and Taylor, I would never have agreed to meet them there. If Jon or Brandon would’ve tried to arrange a meeting in such a place, I would’ve known it was a setup for sure. I’d requested this meeting, however, and it was serious business. I forced myself to climb out of the truck. I looked up at the dilapidated Victorian home with trepidation. The massive iron gate creaked ominously, announcing my presence to the dead. I really, really didn’t want to be here. I had to fight myself to keep from turning back because I knew if I did, I’d never be able to keep going with my plan. I know it sounds stupid for a sixteen-year-old boy to be afraid of an old house, but you wouldn’t think that if you’d been there! Just take my word for it. I had every right to be afraid. The hair stood up on the back of my neck as I crossed the front porch and knocked on the massive front door. I swallowed hard as the door opened moments later, then I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Taylor. “Welcome to the haunted mansion,” said Taylor in a spooky voice. I laughed half-heartedly and stepped in. Taylor was carrying a lantern that lit only part of the vast interior space. I found myself in a parlor of huge dimensions. It looked far too large for a private home. It was more like the lobby of some huge hotel. Oh God, I’m inside, I thought to myself. I realized I was trembling and willed myself to stop. “Come into the kitchen,” said Taylor. He led me through the parlor and into a cavernous kitchen. “Have a seat.” Taylor placed the lantern on a large table in the center of the room. Mark was already seated. Taylor and I joined him. “So…,” said Mark, after an uncomfortable silence, “what did you want to talk to us about?” I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to speak or I’d just sit there in silence forever. I blurted out my story, all in a rush. I knew if I stopped or slowed down I wouldn’t be able to tell them, just like I wouldn’t have been able to walk in that

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haunted house if I’d paused for so much as a second. I told them everything, about being gay, about my feelings for Jon, about my blackmailer. “My God! That’s horrible!” said Mark. “How long has this been going on?” “Since almost the beginning of the school year,” I said. “I don’t know who it is, but someone knows about me, and if I don’t do as he says, he’ll tell everyone.” No one could better understand the seriousness of my situation than Mark and Taylor. I told them how terrified I was of being exposed and how it was driving me mad. “I’m so sorry, Ethan,” said Mark. I knew he meant it. I could tell by the tone of his voice. “It gets worse!” I said, about as upset as I’d ever been. “I got another note today. He wants me to call Taylor a faggot in front of everyone. If I don’t, he’ll tell everyone I’m gay!” I was panic stricken. “Then do it,” said Taylor without a moment’s hesitation. “Call me a faggot.” “I don’t want to, but what choice do I have? When I got the note I just…I couldn’t bear to think of causing you more pain, but then I thought that maybe I could talk to you and explain that I didn’t mean it.” “That’s a good plan,” said Taylor. “I still feel so awful about it,” I said. “Ethan, listen. Guys call me faggot every day and it hurts, but I know you. You’ve been there for Mark and me, and I know it hasn’t been easy for you. When you say it, it won’t mean anything. It’ll be all right! It isn’t a big deal.” “You’re being too kind. I haven’t done anything for you guys. I should’ve been standing up for you all this time, but I’ve been too big of a coward.” “Nonsense,” said Mark. “Tay and I have been ostracized, and you’re one of the few guys who have had the balls to be seen with us. You’ve been courageous from the beginning, doubly so because you have more to lose than anyone else. If I was in your position, I don’t think I’d have to courage to be friends with the school fags.” “I don’t feel very courageous. I feel like I’m being a traitor to myself. I want to stand up and tell everyone I’m gay and that they can just jump off a cliff if they don’t like it, but I’m scared.” “That doesn’t make you a coward,” said Mark. “That makes you smart. There’s a lot to fear. I consider myself lucky if I can make it through the day without getting my ass kicked. Believe me, no one in their right mind would choose to be out at V.H.S. If I were in your shoes, I’d do everything I could to

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remain hidden. Being outed in Verona is like…well it’s a lot like being a Jew in Nazi Germany. You’ve been there for us, Ethan, and we won’t ever forget it.” “I wish I could stand up for you guys as Brandon and Jon do.” “Brandon and Jon are awesome,” said Mark, “but they’re not in your position. They aren’t gay, and no one is threatening them. They are going way out on a limb to be there for us, but considering your situation, I think you’re showing even more bravery than they are.” “Well, I feel a lot better about what I have to do tomorrow at least.” “Don’t worry about it,” said Taylor. “Just remember that what happens tomorrow is nothing more than a performance.” “We’d better tell Brandon and Jon what’s going down,” said Mark. “Not about you being gay,” he added quickly when he saw my face pale, “just that it’s all an act.” “Won’t they want to know why?” “Yes, but when I tell them I can’t explain, they’ll be cool with it. Not telling them in advance would be a mistake. They might jump you right there in the cafeteria.” “Yeah, that’s a distinct possibility,” I said. “Yeah, you don’t wanna mess with our bodyguards,” said Taylor. “Ethan, anytime you want to talk, about, you know, stuff, you just get in touch with Taylor or me,” said Mark. I nodded. Part of me wanted to talk to them about a few things right then and there, but another part of me just wasn’t ready yet. Telling them I was gay was a huge step, and I wasn’t ready to reveal more. Besides, I had way too much on my mind and was apprehensive about the next day. Graymoor was freaking me out as well. I couldn’t believe I was inside. I left just a few minutes later, feeling better about the whole situation. At last, I had someone I could to talk to about my problems. I’d been so alone, but not anymore. ✶

✶

✶

✶

I was nervous sitting with Mark and Taylor at lunch the next day. I felt like a traitor. I hated being forced into going off on Taylor. I hated it! I had no choice, however, none whatsoever. I started to get up and take my tray with me. That was Taylor’s cue. He reached up and grabbed my wrist, like he wanted me to stay longer. The time had come. I summoned all my courage.

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“Get off me, faggot!” I yelled, loud enough everyone could hear. All eyes were turned in my direction. Taylor looked extremely upset, almost as if he was going to burst into tears. He truly looked stricken. He did such a good job, in fact, that I faltered for a moment. I remembered his words of the evening before: It was just a performance. Everyone else at the table looked at me as if they might attack, particularly Brandon. He was putting on an act, too, and seemed only seconds away from trying to kick my ass. I walked off as if I was pissed and dumped my tray. I got out of the cafeteria as fast as I could and hid out in the library, shaking and near tears. I felt rotten. I know what I said didn’t hurt Taylor and didn’t make Mark, or Brandon, or Jon mad, but I still felt just terrible about it. I wanted to stand up for myself and others like me, but I couldn’t. I hated the world I lived in. It was so unjust. If people weren’t such bigots, then boys like me wouldn’t have to hide what they were. No one had the right to treat others the way some people treated homosexuals. I hadn’t really understood when we studied prejudice in school. I didn’t identify with the blacks or Jewish people or any of the other groups we talked about. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I just couldn’t quite grasp what it was like for them. I sure could now. My life was a mess because of the prejudice of others. Mark and Taylor were looked down upon and discriminated against almost everywhere they went because they were different. I wasn’t really a traitor, nor was I a coward. I was just trying to survive in a cruel world. I still didn’t feel too good about myself. I felt like I should’ve had the courage to stand up for myself no matter who or what stood against me. Too many stood against me, however. How could I hope to survive against such odds? Just before wrestling practice, I found a note in my locker. I was not surprised. I read it with contempt for the author.

Good fag. I knew you’d be too big of a coward to defy me. You are such a fucking loser, but, hey, you’re a fag, and that’s the same thing. I could almost hear him laughing at me. I felt like a puppet, with someone pulling my strings. I wasn’t in control of my own life anymore, and I felt helpless and humiliated. How much more of this could I take? Wrestling practice went well. I was able to lose myself for a time in my favorite sport. Battling an opponent on the mat, even during practice, kept my mind

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focused on something besides my own troubles. The endorphins released into my body by the strenuous exercise helped put me at ease, too. There was much to be said for being surrounded by well-built boys in revealing singlets as well. Nothing could truly calm my nerves, however. I lived in fear of receiving my next note. It was almost as if my tormenter could read my mind. When I returned to my locker after wrestling practice, there was yet another note waiting on me. Never before had one note come so quickly on the heels of another. I feared this one all the more for that fact. I hesitated for a moment before I unfolded it. It wasn’t there before wrestling practice, so someone had placed it there within the last hour and a half. That didn’t really help me figure out the identity of my blackmailer, however. There was only half an hour or so between the end of the school day and the beginning of wrestling practice. Anyone could have hung back long enough to slip the note in my locker. I might never know who was tormenting me. I opened the note, and I did not like what I read there at all. It was worse than being ordered to call Taylor a fag. It was worse than any note I’d ever received. The words neatly typed on the paper filled me with a sense of dread.

We’re coming for you soon, faggot. You’re gonna get it twice as bad as Mark. Ask him what we almost did to him. Ask him, because we’re going to do it to you. I crumpled the note in my fist, trembling with fear. What terrified me so was a small but significant detail. In all the other notes, my tormentor had referred to himself as “I.” Now, he was saying “we.” What’s more, the note was obviously from whoever had beat up Mark. I remembered the sight of him lying in his hospital bed. He looked as if he’d been pulled from the wreckage of an auto accident. Mark had never revealed the names of his attackers, for whatever reason, but they’d beaten him so badly they’d nearly killed him. They were coming for me next. The sick game they’d been playing with me was nearly at an end. I was strong and a talented wrestler, but if I was jumped by three or four guys I wouldn’t have a chance. Even two might be able to take me out. I was in serious trouble. I wondered what the note writer meant when he said they were going to do to me what they’d almost done to Mark. They’d nearly killed him. Did that mean they were going to kill me? Suddenly, I felt more unsafe than I ever had before, and that was saying something.

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One tiny bit of good came out of the note. I’d been straining my brain trying to figure out who was sending me the notes, and, now, just when I thought I’d never figure it out, I was close to the answer. All I had to do was get Mark to name names and I’d know who was coming after me. Not knowing who was tormenting me had been driving me crazy. At last, I was only a few steps away from learning the identity of my attackers. I had to talk to Mark.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I awakened the next morning, remembering the bad dream I’d had the night before—the dream where my world had turned upside down. I put my feet on the floor and froze. A blond boy, clad only in boxers, lay tangled up in his sheets and blankets on a bed only a few feet away. I quickly looked around the room and reality set in. It hadn’t been a dream. I stood, uncertain even as to which dresser was mine. I tried the one near my bed. It made sense that would be my dresser, right? There was a notebook on top with the name Sean Jassen written on it in my handwriting. This was going to take some getting used to. I rifled through the drawers and pulled out boxers and socks. I went to the closet, opened the door, and discovered clothes too small for me. I tried the other side. That was better. I even recognized some of the clothing. I selected a familiar shirt, picked up the jeans I’d worn from the night before, and headed down the hall to the bathroom. At least I knew where that was! I stripped and looked in the mirror. I didn’t look bad, but I hadn’t changed. I was still a bit too flabby. I sighed. It looked as if I could’ve at least gotten a better body out of the deal, but I guess not, since I was one of the few things that hadn’t changed. I’d have to be happy with the improvements I’d made and keep working toward my goal of being slim and in shape. Being in an alternate reality was no reason to slack off! I showered, dried off, dressed, and walked to the kitchen. It was weird to live in such a small house again with everything on one floor. “Hello, son.” A handsome blond man I didn’t know sat at the kitchen table eating scrambled eggs and bacon. “Hi…Dad.”

- 55 -

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He smiled at me. This is weird, I thought to myself. Is this my real dad or my step-dad? “Would you like some breakfast?” asked Mom. “I think I’ll just have some cereal.” “How’s your diet coming along?” “Slowly but surely,” I said, pleased that not every bit of conversation was going to be a struggle. Some things were just the same in both realities. “Nice hair,” said my dad and grinned. My mom looked at him, then back at me, but said nothing. My brother came in, and I reminded myself his name was Seth. I made the effort to smile at Seth even though his mere existence freaked me out. He sneered at me in return. Not exactly friendly, I thought to myself. Of course, who knew what had passed between us? Perhaps he had good reason to dislike me, or perhaps he was just a jerk. My money was on jerk. I calmed myself with the familiar surroundings. Okay, I had a new Dad and a little brother, but my mom was the same, and the kitchen looked pretty much as I remembered it, with only minor variations. All in all, my physical surroundings were familiar enough that they gave me a sense of security. I knew I was truly fortunate in not finding everything about my life alien. I was sure there were a lot of surprises coming up, but things could’ve been worse. It was Sunday, so I had a whole day to orient myself in my hometown. I dressed warmly, then went out, after telling my parents I was going for a long walk. I knew already Café Moffatt was where it was supposed to be, and I soon found that most of the Verona I knew was intact. Some buildings had different stores in them, but such changes probably wouldn’t give me any trouble. The most significant change I noted downtown was the absence of the gay-youth center. The building was there, all right, but it was all different and modern looking. In it resided a gym called The Ab Crunch. It hadn’t been there before. I stopped at a phone booth and checked the book. There was no listing for a gay-youth center in Verona. I checked to see if Ethan and Nathan were listed, but there were no Selbys in the book at all. I choked back a sob when I thought of Nick. That was the hardest thing of all, not knowing the fate of my boyfriend. I had to remind myself that in this reality he wasn’t my boyfriend. That was good in a way; at least he didn’t have to experience the pain of separation. It was killing me. Maybe Nick could even be my boyfriend in this timeline. I’d be looking for him at school the next day for sure. I feared he might not live in Verona, however. He’d been brought here by Ethan and Nathan, adopted as their son, and

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they’d disappeared without a trace. If they weren’t here, there was a good chance Nick wasn’t, either. I’d do my best to find him. It was one of the many items on my “to do” list. I walked to V.H.S. next and found it much the same. At least I wouldn’t have to navigate my way through a new high school. There was a large outbuilding I didn’t recognize, but it looked as if it might involve auto mechanics or something, since there were large garage doors on one side. There was asphalt in a couple of places I remembered gravel, but that was hardly significant. Satisfied my school wouldn’t be completely unfamiliar to me, I headed for the library. It was time to check some historical facts. The library had a large addition I didn’t remember, which was kind of cool. There was internet access and everything. A thought occurred to me, and I hopped on one of the computer terminals and went to the V.H.S. website. It looked much the same and thankfully still had a sign-in page. I typed in my name and password, but my password was rejected. That made sense—my password was “nickhilton.” Nick was no where to be found, and Hilton wasn’t my last name anymore. I thought for a moment, then tried a few passwords I was likely to use. Finally, “seaniscool” was accepted. I pulled up my class schedule and, sure enough, it was different. I printed out a copy. I had mostly the same classes, but not at the same times. I didn’t recognize most of the teachers’ names, either. Teachers wouldn’t be hard to recognize once I was in class. I mean, there was only one per class. It was the other students who would be the problem. I nearly signed out before I remembered to check my locker assignment and combination. Both were different. I was thankful V.H.S. had such information on line. I browsed the school calendar, but didn’t see anything that could cause me problems. I signed out and went downstairs to check out the newspapers on microfilm. I searched the Verona Citizen from the week I was born, but didn’t find any mention of me. I could have been born somewhere else or maybe my birthday wasn’t the same anymore. That could cause difficulties. All kinds of forms and stuff required a birthday. There had to be lots of ways to discover my birthday, however, better ways than searching through several years’ worth of newspapers. I wondered if I was still sixteen. My birthday was supposed to be March 24, 1981, but who knew what it might be now? I guess it couldn’t be too far off. I searched through some far more recent issues to see if I could find any mention of an Ethan or Nathan Selby. There was no mention of them at all; then again, I couldn’t remember them being in the papers much. One thing I knew for sure is that they weren’t on the farm and hadn’t been for some time.

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Why was it that unimportant things remained unchanged, while my boyfriend and his dads had completely disappeared? I mean, I could deal with the loss of Ofarim’s or The Paramount or whatever, but the loss of those I loved was hard to take. I reminded myself that Nick might still exist, even in Verona. I’d just have to wait and see. I was beginning to get a headache from the newsprint spinning past, so I gave up on the back issues for a while. I couldn’t think of what to check out anyway, although I was sure there were some significant events I should have been checking. Far too much was going on in my mind for me to think straight. I needed a break. As I left the library I realized the microfilm racing past had given me more than a bit of a headache. I was slightly nauseated, too. The cold February air was refreshing. I paused for a moment. How could I be sure this was even February? No, I remembered seeing a calendar in the library. It was February, all right. I stopped in Ofarim’s for some diet hot cocoa. The changes were more pronounced there than in Café Moffatt. Gone were the rock memorabilia, and in their place were dozens of old cookie jars and metal lunchboxes on narrow shelves. The menu was much the same, but the atmosphere was sure different. I liked it well enough, but it kind of freaked me out. I took my hot cocoa out into the February chill and continued my exploration. The chocolaty surface of my drink steamed in the cold air. The Paramount Theatre was still there and looked completely unchanged, at least on the outside. The Park’s Edge was still there, too, but a few businesses were missing. In some places there was nothing but a vacant lot where a building should’ve been. I walked across the street to the park, finishing up my hot cocoa. It was in the park that I received the biggest shock of my entire life. I was just walking along, my head in the clouds, and suddenly there he was. “Marty?” “Hey, Sean. Man, what happened to your hair?” “Marty!” I said, my eyes filling with tears. I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight. I couldn’t help myself. I cried with joy. Marty pried me off him. “What, have you gone queer on me or something? Get off!” “I’m just so glad to see you!” I was beaming. Marty was supposed to be dead! I guess he hadn’t been murdered in this timeline. I hadn’t even thought of the possibility. “I think some of the dye must’ve leaked into your brain,” he said, staring at my hair.

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“Maybe so,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. I made a move to hug him again, but he pulled away. “Knock it off. What if someone sees? I’m not all that fond of getting my ass kicked.” “Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t possibly explain to him why I was so very glad to see him. I could just imagine his reaction to the truth: You see, Marty, I’m from another reality. You were brutally murdered there and…Yeah, the truth wouldn’t do at all. Still, I could hardly contain myself. “So, what are you up to?” I asked. “I’m killing time and avoiding homework.” “Me, too!” “Perhaps we can do it together then. No plans with Zoë today?” “Not unless I’ve forgotten.” “You better not have. She’ll kick your butt.” I laughed. “I don’t see how you two keep from getting caught making out in the halls.” I was struck silent for a moment. Zoë and I making out? We’d long been friends, but…things were definitely different here. “Yeah, well…” “Damn, I wish I had a girlfriend.” Girlfriend? “You don’t have to pretend with me, Marty. I know you’re gay.” “What?” Marty practically shouted at me. “Why would you say a thing like that?” I realized I’d made a serious mistake. Marty seemed more frightened than angry, but he obviously wasn’t out to me in this reality. I could take nothing for granted. How was I going to keep everything straight? My head was filled with memories of things that had never happened, from the point of view of the people around me anyway. I hoped I could keep on my toes and not make a complete fool of myself. “I’m sorry, I was just kidding around.” “Well, don’t! What if someone heard you? You want to get me beaten up, or killed?” “There’s no one here but us, and don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” “Have you forgotten about Oliver? You know what happened to him. Just thinking of it makes my skin crawl. Damn, what a nasty way to die.”

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Oliver was dead? I was struck with sudden grief. I had to fight the compulsion to ask what had happened. It looked as if I was in for another trip to the library. “Sorry.” “Listen, I’m not gay and you know it, and I don’t appreciate my best friend kidding around like that.” “I said I’m sorry.” Not gay? The boy was either in denial or just too terrified to open up even to his best friend. I was delighted we were still best friends, however, and that Marty was alive! “Well, just cool it, okay?” “It won’t happen again,” I said. “So, want to hang out at my place?” “Sure, why not,” I said, smiling. Having Marty back in my life was a dream come true. More than that, it was beyond my wildest dreams! In my timeline, I’d read Marty’s diary, trying to discover who might have a motive for murdering him. I’d found not a single clue, but I had made a startling discovery: Marty had been attracted to me. I’d never known about those feelings until he was gone. Had I known, things would have been different between us. Did I have a second chance now? Did Marty feel the same way about me here as he did in the other reality? There was no way I could be sure, but if there was a chance, I wanted to pursue it. A wave of guilt hit me. Had I forgotten about Nick so quickly? What if he was out there somewhere, just waiting to be discovered? He seemed to be missing from the picture, however. I guessed what I needed to do is keep on the lookout for him. If he existed here, surely I’d see him at school on Monday, or at least within a few days. If Nick was here, I’d approach him and see where things stood. If not, I’d give a relationship with Marty more thought. I had to consider the possibility that I’d be stuck here permanently. If that was so and Nick didn’t exist here, I wouldn’t exactly be cheating on him if I pursued Marty. I still felt a nagging sense of guilt, however. Adjusting to my new life was going to be anything but easy. Marty was alive, though! That was cause enough for celebration. I felt like I could walk on air. I couldn’t help but be happy walking by Marty’s side. My best friend had been restored to my life, beyond all hope. I realized as I gazed at him that he might be quite different from the Marty I knew. What if he wasn’t even gay? It was possible, as weird as it seemed. I had to remember that people might not be at all the same here as they were in my own reality.

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I thought of poor Oliver. I had to find out what had happened to him. It sounded as if he’d met with a horrible fate. I wondered why Skye hadn’t saved him, but I couldn’t even be sure Skye existed. My whole world was uncertain. Marty lived in the same house, and his room, though different, was close enough that I felt at home there. I wondered briefly if Marty’s journal was hidden somewhere in his room and if I could get my hands on it without being caught. Marty might well have revealed his feelings for me within its pages. I dismissed the thought, however. Marty was my best friend, and his journal was private. No matter how badly I wanted to discover the nature of his feelings for me, I couldn’t invade his privacy like that. I thought briefly of Kyle and the other murderers. Were they running around loose here, and were they a danger? If they were, Marty was obviously well hidden from them, and I was reasonably sure I wasn’t out, either. My brother had called me a faggot, which I thought at the time was because he knew I was gay, but perhaps it was just an insult he’d flung at me. From what little I’d witnessed of his personality, it was just the kind of thing he’d say. I let all such thoughts and worries drift away while I was with Marty. I was experiencing again a friendship I’d thought lost forever. I’d grieved over Marty’s death and yearned for him so often, and now he was back, or rather had never gone. In a way, he wasn’t the same Marty, yet he was. He was close enough, in any case, and I was delighted to be with him again. We wrestled, we played video games, and we listened to music. I had lunch with Marty and his parents. Time slipped by and soon it was late afternoon, then early evening. Marty’s mom forced him to go with her to visit a sick aunt, so I had to leave. I didn’t mind too much, though, for I could see Marty again. I’d see him the next day at school, in fact. I couldn’t wait to eat lunch with him. It would be like old times. I returned to the library to satisfy my curiosity about Oliver. I turned to the recent issues of the Verona Citizen and worked backwards. Thankfully, the more recent issues were bound in large volumes, rather than being kept on microfilm. I didn’t think I could stand another go at the microfilm machine so soon. It took me a good long time, but I finally came across the account of Oliver’s death. He’d been murdered some months before. He’d been severely beaten, then lynched not far from the high school. Whoever had committed the crime had never been caught. At least I’d found no mention of an arrest as I’d worked back in time toward his murder. My heart went out to poor Oliver. The kid had never hurt anyone I was sure, not if he was anything like the Oliver I knew. The article didn’t say, but from

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what Marty had told me I knew the beating and lynching were the result of Oliver being outed. I wondered if Kyle and his crew had anything to do with it. Were the parties guilty of Marty’s death in my reality guilty of Oliver’s in this one? Verona, Indiana, was no place for gay boys. I wondered why there had been no arrests. Was it because the murderers couldn’t be found or because the authorities looked the other way? Marty had seemed unnaturally afraid of being outed. There was no gay-youth center. Perhaps these things didn’t mean as much as I was thinking, but I wondered if things weren’t a good deal worse for gays in this Verona than in the one I’d known. Perhaps I was fortunate that I wasn’t out. I was getting tired, and I thought it a good idea to go home and see if I had any homework to do. It gave me an odd feeling not even being aware of so small a thing, but I’d catch on to my new world little by little. Within a month I might feel quite at home here. Who knew? The light began to fade as I walked home. It felt odd being the only person on the entire planet who was aware that things were not as they’d been. Perhaps the change was even larger than that. Perhaps it involved the entire universe, the totality of existence, or whatever you wanted to call it. I doubted the change would have any effect beyond Earth, except at some later point in time where maybe there was space travel to other worlds with intelligent life. That wouldn’t happen in my time, however, and I had quite enough to consider as it was. I wondered if I should consider my knowledge a gift or a curse. I supposed it didn’t matter. For good or evil, I alone was aware that the world had changed. Seth was out and about when I returned, so I closed the bedroom door and began to explore. I felt as if I was snooping, yet I wasn’t because I was looking through my own things. Now and then I did get into some of Seth’s stuff by accident, but it was myself I was seeking to learn about. Two school books, a notebook, and an assignment book were sitting on top of my desk. I was pleased to see my homework for world history marked off as well as an essay for English. I checked the notebook marked “English” just to be sure and there was the essay. I stopped to read it and got the weirdest feeling. I had not written it, yet it was clearly written by me. I mean, it was written as I would have written it had I done so—well you know what I mean! I was quite pleased that I’d already finished all my assignments. It seemed I was as organized here as I was in my other life. It certainly paid off this time. No homework! I was hoping to find a journal, but if I kept one it was well hidden. Perhaps it was on the family computer, but if it was there I was sure it would be well dis-

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guised. Since I was looking for something I’d hidden, I’d have an easier time finding it than anyone else. After all, who knew how I thought better than I did? It hadn’t been too difficult to hack into my school account, that was for sure, and thanks to that bit of espionage I wouldn’t be wandering around school lost the next day. What a nightmare it would’ve been if I didn’t know my own schedule or even where my locker was located! From what I found in my room I could tell I was not involved in any sports. That was no shock. My brother, however, was heavy into soccer, and if the awards and trophies were any indication, he was quite the little jock. No wonder we didn’t get along! I was going to make an effort to be nice to him. Whatever there was between us was missing from my experience, so I saw no reason not to try and get on well with him. Perhaps if I offered an olive branch, he wouldn’t slap it away. I found a strip of photos of Zoë and myself hidden in a book, the kind taken in those machines in a mall, five-shots-for-a-buck kind of thing. In the first, I was facing the camera, but Zoë was kissing my cheek. In the next it was just the opposite and in the third we were kissing on the lips! Marty had acted as if she was my girlfriend. His comment about us making out in the hallways at school stuck in my head. Was it an act on my part to stay hidden in the closet? It almost had to be, yet I couldn’t imagine myself making out with Zoë. She was like a sister to me. Seth came home an hour or so later. He wasn’t overly friendly, but he least he returned my greeting when he entered. He stripped off his shirt and began working out with a set of dumbbells. He was more muscular than I’d first thought. He looked slim with his shirt on, and he was, but with it off I could see he was all muscle. It was quite a shock really. I never thought a slim guy who wore glasses could be built like that. Seth was actually quite a hottie, and I began to get turned on by him before I remembered he was my brother. Okay, this is gross, I thought to myself. No incest for me. From my point of view, Seth wasn’t my brother, so maybe my thoughts weren’t quite as perverted as they seemed. That’s probably why I was attracted to him, too. From my point of view we had no history as brothers. For as long as I was here, which could be the rest of my life, he’d be my brother, however, so I had to treat him and think about him as I would a brother, and that definitely didn’t include sexual fantasies! Would it really be so bad? I thought as I secretively watched him. Yes! Do not go there, Sean!

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I sat down at the desk and faced away from Seth. The last thing I needed was more complications in my life. I was amazed I’d done so well in my first twenty-four hours in a new reality. I doubted few others could have adjusted so quickly. I did have some advantages most others didn’t possess. I had no prior experience with altered realities, but I had been subjected to ghosts, evil spirits, and angels. I knew a little something about doorways between worlds, mainly thanks to Marshall messing with things he shouldn’t have been tampering with. All that was small potatoes to whatever it was he’d done this time. I wished I knew what Marshall had done, because then maybe I’d have a shot at undoing it. I knew he’d used a spell to travel in time. He’d done something in the past to alter reality, but I had no idea what or when he’d done it. An idea popped into my head, and I stood up and left the room. I walked into the living room and sat down at the computer. Why hadn’t I thought of searching for Marshall on the internet? I might come up with nothing, of course, but even that was better than sitting in my room trying to ignore Seth as he worked out. I hopped on the internet and searched for Marshall Mulgrew. I came up with lots of entries that included Marshall and Mulgrew, but not a single one for Marshall Mulgrew. I knew it was a bit of a long shot, but I needed to check out every lead that came my way if I was to have any chance at all of getting back where I belonged. I turned off the computer and sat down and watched a bit of TV. I didn’t want to return to my room until I was sure Seth had finished working out. Being attracted to him disturbed me. At least TV was largely unchanged. I looked through the schedule and saw that Frasier and a lot of my other favorite programs still existed. I hoped PBS was still showing Good Neighbors and To The Manor Born. I loved those old BBC shows. I sat in front of the TV until I began to grow drowsy. By then, I thought it safe to return to my bedroom. Even if Seth was still pumping iron, I didn’t think I’d have too much trouble ignoring him and falling asleep. He was finished when I returned to our room. He was lying back on his bed reading. He was shirtless, but I intentionally ignored him, undressed, and crawled into my own bed. “Good night, Seth.” “Nite, Sean.” I fell asleep almost instantly, and if I had any dreams, I did not remember them the next morning.

SKYE—FALL 1997 I walked the short distance downtown to The Ab Crunch and arrived with five whole minutes to spare. Mrs. Xander, the owner, was forgiving if I came in late, which happened frequently due to football practice, but I tried to be on time as much as possible. I had one sweet job and I didn’t want to mess it up. I mean, where else could I get paid for working out? Mrs. Xander had inherited the gym from her husband before it even opened its doors. They had the place just about all set up when he keeled over from an aneurism or something like that. He died before I came into the picture, so I didn’t know him. I’d seen him around town a few times, but that was about it. I first spotted The Ab Crunch when I was walking around downtown looking for a part-time job. I needed some cash because I’d just busted my third weight machine and wanted to buy myself something that would last, like a Bowflex maybe. I practically drooled when I saw the “Help Wanted” sign in the window. I mean, me, working in a gym, how perfect was that? It was an early spring day that now seemed long ago, and I was dressed in a wife-beater and jeans. When I walked in and asked about the job, Mrs. Xander took one look at me and hired me on the spot. “You’re exactly what I need,” she said. “You obviously know a great deal about working out, and you’re a walking advertisement for the benefits of a gym.” I grinned. My bod had definitely landed me the job. Mrs. Xander gave me a whole stack of wife-beaters and muscle shirts with “The Ab Crunch” written across the back or chest. I wore them to work often, but I also brought in my own stuff. Mrs. Xander specifically asked me to wear clothing that showed off my body, because she thought it would encourage more people to join. I guess the idea was they’d get a look at me and want to be just as built. Who wouldn’t? My job was mainly looking after the place, signing up people for memberships, taking care of the equipment, showing people how to do exercises, etc. I - 65 -

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could work out all I wanted when we weren’t busy, and I had my own key, so I could come in and use the equipment whenever I wanted. I’d set out to find a job so I could buy a new weight machine, but I didn’t even need one with an entire gym at my disposal. The equipment was top-rate, too. Mrs. Xander got her money’s worth when she hired me. I told all the guys about the place, of course, and a lot of them joined. It cost $39.99 a month or $399.99 per year, but it was worth it. I didn’t have to pay, of course, which made it even better. “Yo, Josh, where you at?” I yelled. Josh was my best friend, and I’d helped him get his job. Well, I got it for him, practically. My recommendation went a long way. I’m sure his looks didn’t hurt. Josh was hot—curly black hair, a year ’round natural tan, and a damn nice build. He didn’t have my size, but he had awesome definition. I’d seen girls practically drool over his tight abs. Josh played soccer instead of football, but, hey, no one was perfect. “Keep your shirt on,” he called from the back. He came out carrying a case of power bars. We sold a lot of stuff like that in the gym—power bars, vitamin supplements, growth powders, and also workout clothing, books, magazines, and more. The Ab Crunch was a high-class gym, way too upscale for Verona actually, but I wasn’t complaining. I would’ve been thrilled it existed even if I didn’t work there. The doors chimed as Jeremy Herrington and Kurt Schipp entered. Both were members. Jeremy is our quarterback if you don’t remember, and Kurt is the resident bad ass of V.H.S. Kurt didn’t do any sports, but he worked out like a maniac. Something about him really turned me on, but, of course, I kept that to myself. “I’m going to go back and change,” I announced. I was wearing the same Abercrombie & Fitch polo shirt I had at school, but it wasn’t suitable gym attire. I went into the locker room and pulled one of my most revealing wife-beaters from my locker. Jeremy and Kurt were changing for their workouts. I saw Jeremy naked all the time, but not Kurt. I did need to change, but I’d made a beeline for the locker room because I wanted to get a good look at Kurt’s bod. “What’s up Jimmy’s ass?” asked Jeremy as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his sleek, smooth torso. “Probably his finger, if I know Jimmy,” I said. Jeremy laughed, and even Kurt smiled. Kurt had one nice bod. He’d stripped off his shirt, too. He had beautifully shaped, powerful pecs that tapered down to

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a tight, flat abdomen. He didn’t strip completely nude, but I enjoyed the view of his naked torso. “You going to work out, Skye?” asked Jeremy “Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course I am, unless we get too busy.” “Damn, how you’d get this job? Are you plowing Mrs. Xander?” “Some of us don’t have to sleep with the elderly to land a job, Jeremy.” “Fuck you, Skye.” “Homo. I got the job because I’m perfect for it. You know you wanna look like me.” I raised my arms and flexed my biceps. “Come on,” said Jeremy to Kurt. “I don’t think there’s enough room in here for us and Skye’s ego.” “Jealousy is such an ugly thing,” I said as I pulled on my wife-beater and slammed my locker shut. “See you guys later.” “See ya, Skye.” I checked out the showers to make sure all was well before returning to the front. A few more customers had entered by then. We did most of our business in the evening hours, because the high-school crowd came in right after school or after the various sports practices ended. The older set started coming in a little later, after supper. Most were already members, and Josh and I knew them on sight, but we still had to run their cards through the scanner. It was more than a check-in process. The computer kept track of how often each member used the gym and when. I’m not sure of what use that information was put to, but I guess it was good for something. It also told us when someone’s membership was about to expire, so we could make a renewal reminder. We also used the computer to give a free month to anyone who brought in a new member. There were a few guys who really racked up the free months, and that was cool because they brought in a lot of new business. I was so good at selling clothes and other stuff that Mrs. Xander gave me a commission on top of my salary. I never tried to sell anyone something they didn’t need, so customers knew they could trust my word. I could’ve sold more stuff if I lied about it, but that would’ve ruined my reputation. Mrs. Xander even conferred with me on new products and discontinued those I told her were no good. Most of the customers were guys, but some were female. A few of our female patrons joined only because Josh and I worked there. There weren’t a whole lot of girls our age who were members, a fact much bemoaned by Josh, but there were several older women.

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Mrs. Leander, the art teacher, came in while both Josh and I were at the front desk. She was a regular. “I wouldn’t mind popping her one bit,” said Josh when she’d headed for a treadmill. “She’s as old as your mom,” I pointed out, not for the first time. “Hey, older women can be hot. They’re experienced, and besides, they’re women.” “So says the voice of desperation.” “Shut up, Skye.” I laughed. “Well, maybe Ben will share.” “You think it’s true about him and Mrs. Leander?” “Who knows?” “If I thought I had a chance, I’d put the moves on her right now.” “Go for it.” “I said, if I thought I had a chance.” “Yeah, you are pretty pathetic. You probably couldn’t give away what you’ve got in a nursing home.” “Fuck you, Skye. You know I’m so gorgeous that even guys want me.” “Probably every guy who wants you gets you, too,” I laughed, “you fag!” “Kiss my ass, Skye.” “Sorry, I don’t enjoy your hobbies.” Josh rolled his eyes, but then smiled. “I’m glad we’re friends. I don’t think I’d want you as my enemy.” “Ah, we’re best buds, you know that,” I said. “I’ll tell you what: I’m going to do you a favor. Let me see if I can hook you up with Mrs. Leander. I’ll turn on the old Skye charm.” “You’re not serious?” said Josh as I began to walk toward the far edge the gym where Mrs. Leander was working out. “Skye!” Josh hissed. I continued to ignore him and just kept on walking. “Skye! No!” said Josh, trying to speak loud enough for me to hear without being overheard by others. I walked over to Mrs. Leander, started speaking to her, then looked back to Josh. He was as pale as a ghost. I whispered to Mrs. Leander, and we both looked in his direction. Josh was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and I halfway expected him to hide behind the counter. Mrs. Leander and I both laughed while looking at Josh again, then I returned to my friend.

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“What did you say to her?” he asked, somewhat crossly. He was still a bit pale and looked supremely embarrassed. “You really wanna know?” I asked. “Hell yes! You tell me what you said to her, right now!” “Okay. Okay. Calm down. First, I asked her if she’d help me mess with your mind. Then, I said, let’s both look toward Josh and freak him out by making him think we’re talking about him.” I began to laugh. “That is so not funny.” “It is to me!” “I need to look for a new friend.” I laughed some more. “Hey, I’m gonna work out for a while. Can you watch things?” “No,” said Josh. “I’m going to work out while you keep an eye on things. You owe me!” “Okay, fair enough.” I got my chance to work out a couple of hours later. I stripped off my shirt and hit the bench press machine wearing only my Nikes and my Abercrombie & Fitch shorts. I much preferred working out in public to working out at home. Of course, I hadn’t been able to work out at home since my machine busted, but that hardly mattered now. I enjoyed the looks I got from the customers. Okay, I’m sure you think I’m a conceited cock, but why shouldn’t I enjoy what I’ve got going for me? I deserve my body. I made it into what it is. Why shouldn’t I be proud of it? I was used to others checking me out while I knocked out reps. Both guys and girls watched me. Maybe some of the guys were queer, I don’t know, but most of them wanted what I had, and that gave me a good feeling. The girls, on the other hand, usually wanted to feel what I had, and I was more than willing to oblige. Okay, I’m probably confusing you here. I’m gay; I’ve told you that. When I think about sex, I fantasize about guys. I learned a long time ago, however, that girls could make me feel good. I’d take a guy over a girl any day, but that’s way too risky, so I make do with what I’ve got. There are certain things I won’t do with a girl for anything, like go down on one. Gross! Mostly, they want to make out, give head, and do the deed, and it’s easy enough to pretend I’m with a guy most of the time. Besides, popping a few girls preserves my reputation. With a bod like mine I’ve got to nail a few babes or the other guys would be way too suspicious.

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I didn’t get any offers this time, but one girl was looking at me hard. Some of the guys in the gym noticed, and I know they were jealous as hell. I loved it. Josh took off at nine. He worked shorter hours than I did. The gym was open until ten, but I had the place to myself for the last hour, because it usually wasn’t too busy. I handled Saturday and Sunday mornings alone, too. Sometimes I let Josh have the hours, just to be a friend, and sometimes I had something else to do. Mostly, I wanted all the hours I could get, because I was saving up for a new car. My Cutlass was cool enough, but I wanted something kick-ass. The girl who’d been eyeing me while I was pumping iron had left before Josh, but she returned just before closing time. The gym was practically empty by then, but she hung around, working out on some of the aerobics machines. Right at ten she came and asked if I’d show her how to use the bench-press machine properly. By then we were the only ones left in the gym. “Yeah, sure,” I said, “but let me lock up first.” I locked the door, turned on the “closed” sign, then returned my attention to my admirer. Just before I was about to get on the machine, she said, “Could you take your shirt off first?” I knew where this was going, and that was fine by me. I needed some relief. I explained how to do a bench press, although I don’t think she really cared. Her eyes were glued to my pecs as I pumped out the reps. When I finished a set of ten, she ran her hand over my chest, feeling my taut pecs. “You’re so built. My name’s Rachel, by the way.” Rachel looked to be in her middle twenties, and I wondered if she knew I was just sixteen. “I’m Skye.” “That’s a sexy name. You go to college, Skye?” “I’m still in high school.” “Ohhh, a high-school boy.” The prospect seemed to intrigue her. She ran her hand down over my abs, which aroused me. Yeah, she was a girl, but I got excited when anyone touched me like that. Pretty soon, she had her hand right where it counted. I moaned, she dropped to her knees and got to work. I didn’t realize until she’d finished me off that we could’ve been seen by anyone passing by. We were some distance away from the front, but there was a danger still. I guess it didn’t matter, but I was sure Mrs. Xander wouldn’t have appreciated it. Rachel gave me her number as I let her out the front. I tossed it in the trash as soon as she was gone and turned out the lights. It was time to go home, do some homework, and get to bed.

TAYLOR—NOVEMBER 1980 I had much better luck job hunting the next day after school. I walked to the library and searched through the help-wanted ads as Marshall had suggested. There were a few looking for boys for yard work. Summer was over and there was no grass to cut, but there were plenty of leaves to rake. I wrote down a couple of addresses and took off in search of employment. I walked several blocks until I reached the first address on my list. It was a small bungalow with a huge yard. An elderly lady answered the door and offered me six bucks an hour for raking leaves after I told her I’d come to ask about her ad. I gladly accepted; six dollars an hour wasn’t bad, and I knew it might take days to finish, because a thick carpet of maple leaves covered her lawn. I was given a rake, gloves, and a thermos of hot cocoa and set to work. It was chilly out, but I was wearing a flannel shirt and the work kept me warm, as did the hot cocoa. It was a rather pleasant afternoon all things considered. I breathed in the crisp fall air and was glad just to be alive. With the little money I was making I could pay my own way, at least for the time being. I had a hot bowl of soup to look forward to for supper and maybe another visit from Mark—yum. I loved Mark with all my heart. That’s what really kept me going. I knew I couldn’t have made it nearly this far without him. He had a strength that I lacked, an ability to stand up to almost anything life threw at him. His parents were keeping him a virtual prisoner in his own home, yet he didn’t let it get to him—well, not much. I knew Mark was upset about the way his parents treated him, but he didn’t dwell on it. For Mark, the glass was forever half full, not half empty, and I was trying to take a page out of his book. The rain of the evening before made the leaves heavy and my biceps began to ache as I raked them toward the curb. I was in shape, but an extra workout wouldn’t hurt me. I wasn’t as built as Mark, and I wanted to catch up. I wanted to be as sexy for him as I could be. - 71 -

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I was in the worst spot I’d ever been in my life. A few months before I would’ve never thought I’d be homeless and making my own way in life. I suppose I wasn’t exactly homeless, since I had Graymoor to live in, but that was only temporary. I didn’t own Graymoor, and I could be forced out at any time. It was a temporary living arrangement at best. Things were tough all over. I thought of poor Ethan being blackmailed. In a way, he almost had it worse than Mark and I. I don’t think I could have withstood what he’d been going through; then again, maybe I could’ve. My life was no picnic, and I’d discovered I was much tougher than I’d ever suspected. Ethan had a reputation for being tough, but it didn’t take a mind reader to see he was under tremendous stress. He was coming to visit Mark and me at Graymoor again. He said he’d received another note. That’s all he would tell us in the hallway at school, but he looked like a haunted man. I shivered as the sweat on the back of my neck cooled in the chill air. Winter was coming, and Graymoor would only get colder. So far I’d kept warm by sleeping under three quilts, but when winter truly hit I doubted I’d be able to keep from freezing no matter how many covers were on the bed. I guess there was no need in worrying about that now. My life was filled with unknowns, and I could either spend all my time worrying about them or get what enjoyment I could out of life. Now, more than ever, it was necessary to grab whatever little bits of happiness I could. I filled my mind with visions of Mark: the way he laughed, the way he smiled, the sound of his voice. I thought of his silky lips and how they felt against my own—and his tongue; the things Mark could do with his tongue. Mmmmm. I pictured him shirtless—the swell of his pecs, their smoothness and firmness, his bulging biceps, and those sexy abs that I loved to trace with my fingers and tongue. Whoa! I was thinking of Mark a little too hard. The front of my jeans was under considerable strain. I guess it didn’t matter, because there was no one to see. Oh, how I yearned for Mark; to be with him was to experience bliss. I was excited not only by his body, magnificent as it was, but by all of him. When he held me, I could feel his love. I felt safe and content in his embrace as I did at no other time. I wondered how I’d ever considered giving all of that up. I’d come so very close to throwing it all away, and the scariest part is that at the time it seemed the only thing to do. No, that wasn’t the scariest part; the most frightening aspect of all was that it could happen again. I’d descended into madness before, so what was to keep me from going down that road once more?

Mark A. Roeder

73

I’d just have to keep that from happening, that’s all. I’d have to deal with the unpleasantness of life and find whatever happiness I could. I wanted things to be different, but I had to face reality. Life was hard, but there was good in it still. I raked leaves until the light began to fail, then walked toward Graymoor with tired muscles and $18 in my pocket. It would take a few more evenings to finish, and I intended to squirrel away every cent I could. Most of it would go for groceries, but I’d save the rest for a rainy day, and there was sure to be plenty of rain in my future. Rain, hah! I was expecting a downpour. Marshall wasn’t home when I arrived, so I stretched out on the bed and took a nap. At the moment, nothing else could have felt so wonderful. I was starving, but I needed sleep more than food, and if I put off eating, I’d have it to look forward to when I awakened. I dreamed of playing soccer in the sun with Mark at my side, his dark hair flowing in the wind as he ran. The dream went on and on. Some little part of me knew it was a dream, and I wanted just to slip off into oblivion and keep dreaming forever. I felt gentle fingers brushing the hair off my face and a voice softly calling to me, “Taylor, Taylor.” “Mark,” I mumbled in my awakening state. I smiled and opened my eyes, but I was alone. I shivered. I was so very cold. My breath clouded the air. I arose and walked toward the door, feeling refreshed. That’s odd, I thought and stopped. I stepped back toward my bed and shivered. It must have been twenty degrees colder by my bed than it was elsewhere in the room. Even as I stood there, the cold departed, as if it had sprung legs and walked away. I felt more curious than frightened. I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. My stomach was rumbling. Marshall was just coming in through the kitchen door, and Mark was with him. A grin broke out on my face, and I embraced Mark. “Don’t crush the bags,” said Mark. “I brought supper.” “I’m famished,” I said. “I was just about to heat up some soup.” “Well, save that for another time. I brought us all burgers and fries.” I noted then that Marshall was carrying a cardboard tray with drinks on it in Styrofoam cups. “You shouldn’t be spending your money like this,” I said. “I wanted to. I’m just glad I ran into Marshall, or I don’t think I’d have made it here with all this.” “And look what I’ve got,” said Marshall, throwing $15 down on the table.

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“Have you been selling yourself on the street corner again, Marshall?” asked Mark. Marshall punched him in the shoulder. “No! I helped someone clean out their garden and haul away trash.” “And I raked leaves,” I said, putting my $18 onto the table. “We can afford food now.” “Awesome,” said Mark. “Now let’s eat!” I never thought a burger could taste so good. This was only my second day of living on my own, but I’d already come to appreciate a lot of things I’d once taken for granted, like fast-food hamburgers, clean clothes, and hot showers. I particularly missed the clean clothes and hot showers. I was wearing the same clothes I had on the day my dad kicked me out. It was all I had except for a flannel shirt and sweater I’d borrowed from Mark and the sweatshirt Marshall had borrowed from me. I’d kept myself clean by bathing in the kitchen sink, but cold water on a cold morning was not a pleasant experience. I had yet to wash my hair and it was getting a bit oily and scratchy. I ran my hand through my hair and got a whiff of my underarm. I was using deodorant, but I’d worn the shirt too many days. Marshall laughed. “What?” I asked. “The look on your face—the way you wrinkled your nose.” “Well, this isn’t a good supper topic, but I just got a whiff of my B.O. I need some clean clothes.” “I’m one step ahead of you,” said Mark. “After we meet with Ethan, we’re going over to Jon’s to implement Operation Ransack Taylor’s Wardrobe.” “Huh?” “The lock on your bedroom window is still broken, right?” “As far as I know.” “Well, tonight, Jon, Brandon, and I are going to do a little breaking and entering into your bedroom to clean out your closet and whatever else we can lay our hands on.” “That’s a little risky.” “What are your parents going to do, have us arrested for getting your stuff for you?” “I’m going with you. It’s my room after all. I know where everything is.” “Count me in,” said Marshall. “I must be involved if mischief is afoot.” I grinned. I was extremely excited by the prospect of clean clothes. I’d snag some of my books and other stuff while I was there, too.

ETHAN—NOVEMBER 1980 I was antsy as I waited for the hours to pass until I could talk to Mark. He had information I needed badly. At last, darkness crept over the farm. I bid Nathan goodbye and headed inside for a quick supper of cold chicken and apple pie. I ate without tasting my food. My mind was too preoccupied. In less than an hour I’d know who’d been sending me the notes. The mystery would come to an end. Mark had never told anyone who’d attacked him, but surely he would reveal the truth to me. They were coming for me next. As soon as I finished supper, I walked out to the old Ford and climbed in. For the second time in two days, I headed for Graymoor Mansion. My apprehension began to grow even as I pulled away from the farm. It was almost a relief to fear a haunted house instead of a mysterious tormentor. I tried to set my mind at ease. I reminded myself that Taylor and Marshall lived in Graymoor and that I’d survived my first expedition into the old mansion without mishap. Still, it wasn’t easy to make myself get out of the truck and walk toward the massive front door when I arrived. Just as I had the day before, I forced myself to keep moving. I knocked once more on the massive front door, but there was no answer. I was expected, so I opened the door with a creak and walked inside. “Taylor? Mark? Marshall?” My voice was swallowed by the immensity of Graymoor. I received no response so I walked into the massive front parlor. When I reached the stairs I called out again, louder than before. This time I was rewarded with an answer. “Ethan?” Moments later, Mark’s voice was followed by Mark himself, coming out of the kitchen. I was relieved I’d found him. I didn’t relish the idea of wandering through that creepy old house all by myself. “Come on upstairs,” said Mark. “Tay is up in his bedroom.”

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I followed Mark up the wide stairway, which was so enormous I was again reminded of a hotel. We stepped onto the second-floor landing, and Mark led me down a long hallway until we reached our destination. Taylor was seated in one of two armchairs arranged in front of an empty fireplace. He motioned for me to take the other, and Mark sat on the arm of Taylor’s chair. I looked around for a few moments. The room was lit only by candles. It was eerie, yet had a comfortable feeling I had not expected to find in Graymoor. “You should be an actor, Taylor. Your performance today was incredible. No one is going to suspect you weren’t really hurt when I called you a faggot.” “Thank you, thank you,” said Taylor, rising and bowing. If the situation hadn’t been so grim, I would’ve laughed. “I’ve got a really, really big problem,” I said. I told Mark and Taylor about the latest note. “The same guys who beat you up are obviously sending me the notes,” I said, looking at Mark. “I know you don’t want to tell anyone who did it, but it would really help me out if you told me. At least then I’d have some idea of who is coming after me.” Mark stared into my eyes. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You don’t reveal the names to another soul, and I mean no one. The main reason I’ve kept the names secret is that I’m afraid Brandon will try to take matters into his own hands. I don’t want him getting hurt or in trouble.” “I understand. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.” “Okay, here goes then—it was Devon, Alex, Jeremy, and Rob.” “It figures Devon would be involved. I hate that kid.” “He’s the spawn of Satan,” said Taylor. “There’s something else,” I said. “The note said I was to ask you what they almost did to you, because they’re going to do it to me. Do you know what that means? I know they nearly killed you…” Mark’s face blanched. “They did come close to killing me, but I don’t think that’s what the note means.” Mark paused for several moments before continuing. “I don’t want to frighten you by telling you this and I don’t really want to talk about it at all, but…they didn’t just beat me. Something else happened. Well, something else almost happened, and it scared me worse than the beating.” “What?” I asked, my voice a shaky whisper. “They almost raped me,” said Mark, his voice trembling.

Mark A. Roeder

77

Taylor reached out and took Mark’s hand. The wave of fear that passed over Taylor’s handsome face did nothing to calm my terror. My heart pounded in my chest. “Oh, my God,” I said. I was a hundred times more afraid than I’d ever been before. “We’ve got to do something to protect you,” said Mark. “There is no way I’m letting anyone go through what I did. I’ve never been hurt like that before, and they came so close to…” “You said they almost raped you. What stopped them?” “They were holding me down. Devon was behind me. He was getting ready to do it, and I told him that only a fag would rape another boy. I told him that if he raped me, Alex, Jeremy, and Rob would know he was a fag, and he’d know it, too.” “And that stopped him?” “Yeah. They beat the shit out of me for it, but it was better than what almost happened.” “Shit,” I said, covering my face with my hand for a moment. “I knew what you went through was bad, but I had no idea…” “We’ve got to do something,” said Mark. “Things can’t go on like this.” “Yeah, we’ve got to do something,” I said, “but what?” ✶

✶

✶

✶

The mystery was over. I had my list of names. No longer did I walk the halls of V.H.S., peering into faces, wondering if I was looking into the eyes of my tormentor. I knew who’d been sending me the notes, but it didn’t make me feel one bit better. In fact I don’t think I’d ever felt worse. I wasn’t a coward by nature, but I was afraid—terrified right down to my bones. It was bad enough when I knew they’d beaten Mark, but to find out what they’d almost done to him and what they’d promised to do to me was too much. It was a fate worse than death. Even if I survived the beating…and the rape, how could I look at any of those guys, knowing what they’d done? My eyes met Devon’s in the cafeteria the next day and again in the halls. I hated him for what he’d done to Mark, and I feared him for what he might do to me. He’d long been a jerk, but I had no idea he was capable of such evil. Just looking at him sent a chill down my spine. I was finished. It was all over. I’d fight like mad when they came to get me, but I couldn’t stand up to four guys at once. I knew Mark, Taylor, Brendan, Jon, and

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even Nathan would help me, but Devon and his crew would get me when I was alone. I knew that for sure. Once they were through with me, I’d have to leave town. I wouldn’t be able to face anyone. They’d all know what had happened to me. I considered just making a run for it. If I was going to leave town after they got me, why not do it before and escape the pain and humiliation? Letting the bullies drive me out would come with its own brand of humiliation, however. Could I live with that? Could I live my life knowing I’d run like a coward? I’d never run away before. What would happen to me if I did so now? Where would I go and what would I do? Running away didn’t seem like a good solution to my problem. I had to do something. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I just couldn’t. Things had been bad enough, but after the latest note, they were a hundred times worse. I’d been trying not to dwell upon the threats, but how could I not? I was looking at a severe beating and something a whole lot worse. Who would be able to get something like that out of their mind? I needed to escape from my problems, if only for a little while. I needed some relief, however temporary. After school, I spotted Austin as I drove by the town park. I nearly stopped, but drove on. Was I making a mistake? I had to do something, however. If I went on like this much longer, Devon and his buddies wouldn’t have to get me; I’d do myself in just to end my misery. Should I go for the lesser of two evils? On impulse I turned the truck around and drove back to the park. I pulled over to the side of the road, and Austin stuck his head in the passenger-side window. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, as if disappointed. “I need something,” I said. Austin’s disappointment evaporated instantly. “This is a surprise. I never thought you’d be coming to me.” I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but maybe he thought I was too straight-laced to be interested in any of his many services. Austin had a reputation for being able to lay his hands on about anything. “I want you to buy me some beer.” “Beer?” “Yeah.” “Why?” “Why do you think? I want to get wasted.” “You? Mr. Super Jock? Why the sudden interest in alcohol? Some girl dump your ass hard?”

Mark A. Roeder

79

“That’s none of your business. So are you going to help me or not? I’ll make it worth your while.” Damn it, why couldn’t I make my hands stop trembling? I hated living in fear. Austin looked me over. “You look like someone who needs a little escape from the stress of life.” “Yeah.” “Well, you’re wasting your time with beer. I’ve got something a lot better.” Five minutes later the exchange was done. I drove home, changed into my work clothes, then locked myself in the bathroom. I shook a couple of pills out of the bottle and looked at them in my hand. It seemed impossible that something so tiny could offer any kind of relief. I popped them into my mouth and washed them down with a glass of water. I slipped the bottle into my pocket and headed downstairs and out the door. I entered the barn and started in on my chores. I could feel the drugs working their way through my body, little by little, until I could tell they’d taken hold. By the time I’d finished feeding the chickens and the horses, I was feeling fine. A sense of euphoria began to flow through me, and the threatening notes and all the rest didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. I felt better than I had in a long time. Maybe better than I ever had before. I walked out to the fencerow smiling. Nathan was hard at work digging a post hole. We’d been at work putting in a new fence for days, and I didn’t know if we’d ever finish the job. “Nathan!” I said, grabbing him around the waist and twirling him around. “What’s up?” Nathan looked at me oddly when I set him back down. “I’m just working,” he said. “I’m here to help!” I grabbed up the post hole digger and plunged it into the earth. I’d always liked to work. It didn’t take me long to work up a sweat. I stopped and pulled off my shirt. I giggled now and then as I worked. God, the stuff Austin sold me was great! “Is something wrong, Ethan?” asked Nathan cautiously. “Nah, nothing’s wrong!” I said loudly. “Everything’s great!” Nathan stared at me. “Ethan, are you drunk?” “No, I’m not drunk, Nathan. I’m high!” Nathan looked truly shocked, and I burst out laughing. I pointed at him. “You should see your face!”

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“This…this isn’t like you,” said Nathan. “Who are you to judge me?” I asked. “I’m not judging you.” “Yeah, well, shut up then. Don’t be a downer. I don’t need that. I’ve got enough downers in my life.” “I’m…I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, just…just enjoy life, Nathan!” I kept digging. Nathan kept staring at me, but I ignored him. What did I care if he didn’t approve? He didn’t have my problems to face. If I needed a little help, that was my business. It was November and quite chilly out, but I was downright hot as I worked. Sweat trickled down my back and chest. I loved to work, to feel my muscles doing their thing. I grinned. Who would’ve thought that two little pills could make me feel so good? If Devon had walked up just then, I would’ve laughed in his face. Nathan eyed me warily. I fought the impulse to jump at him and yell, “Boo!” I giggled at the mere thought. God, this was great! It was just what I needed, a little break from reality. I wasn’t quite sure what Austin had sold me, but he said it wouldn’t hurt me and wasn’t addictive. At the moment, I didn’t care. I was feeling fine! Darkness came on quickly. The whole day had passed with unparalleled speed, which was odd. I would’ve thought the minutes would have crawled by. Certain doom hung over my head, and I’d spent my day living in fear. I knew that they might come for me at any time. For the moment, I didn’t care about that; I didn’t care about anything. I patted the bottle of pills in my pocket. I was taking those babies to school with me the next day for sure. I walked toward the farmhouse when it became too dark to work. I couldn’t remember if I’d bid Nathan goodbye or not, but it didn’t matter. Uncle Jack was nowhere to be found, but I’d spied a light in the barn on the way in, so he was probably working on the tractor or something. There was always some shit to do on the farm. I stripped in the bathroom and turned on the water for a good hot shower. I gazed at myself in the mirror before it steamed up. I didn’t know if I’d realized before what a hot body I had. Why wasn’t Jon interested in me? He was crazy to reject me, even if he was straight. Maybe it was time to give some thought to approaching him again. After all, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything else in my whole life. My thoughts seemed a bit off; maybe it was the pills Austin had sold me. I giggled again. I couldn’t have cared less.

Mark A. Roeder

81

I put my hand into the hot water and jerked it back. Too hot! I adjusted the temperature and climbed in. Damn, it felt good! I soaped up my arms, chest, and abs, enjoying the sensation of a soapy washcloth on my soft skin. I moved the washcloth lower and became aroused. I threw the washcloth to the side and replaced it with my hand. I stroked myself while I thought of Mark and Taylor getting it on. I wondered what they’d do if I asked to join them sometime? I thought of Jon, too. Mmmm, the things I wouldn’t do for that boy. I quickly lost control. I finished my shower, dried off, then walked to my room with a towel around my waist. I dressed in boxers, sweats, and a t-shirt and walked down to the kitchen for a late supper. There was a note on the refrigerator telling me Kim had called. God, I needed to dump her. She was such a pest. It wasn’t enough that she cornered me at school, but she had to call me at home, too. She was the price I had to pay to keep my secret, though. She was camouflage so my classmates wouldn’t figure out I was one-hundred-percent queer. I threw the note in the trash. I’d talk to her tomorrow and not before. I opened the refrigerator door and found some leftover meatloaf and baked beans. Yeah, that was just the ticket. This evening was turning out all right after all. At the moment, I didn’t even care what tomorrow might bring.

TAYLOR—NOVEMBER 1980 Marshall arrived soon after Ethan departed, and the three of us walked to Jon’s house. Jon and Brandon were waiting on us, and we all piled into Brandon’s car. We made the short drive to my old home, parking a block away. Brandon handed out bags and empty boxes to everyone, and we set out. Brandon cracked me up. He was dressed entirely in black and kept stopping and jerking his head this way and that as if we were on a spy mission. He reminded me of John Belushi in Animal House. We approached the house silently, but it looked as if there was little need. It was dark inside and too early for my parents to be in bed. It looked as if they were out. We entered through my bedroom window in any case and used flashlights instead of turning on the light. Mark went for my dresser and began emptying out the contents. Oh yeah, I’d have clean boxers at last! I directed the others, telling them what to stuff into boxes and bags. Last, we grabbed handfuls of my clothes from the closet. We were in and out in under five minutes. I couldn’t help but giggle as we made our way back. “What’s so funny?” asked Jon. “We look as if we just robbed a yard sale,” I said. We dumped everything into the trunk and climbed back into Brandon’s car. We drove back to Jon’s to hang out for a while. We were quite a little crowd for his bedroom, but we all squeezed in. “Jon, can I use your shower?” I asked. “Sure.” “Yeah, man,” said Brandon, “take a shower; you’re stinking up the place.” I flipped Brandon off. “Don’t do that, Taylor!” said Jon. “You know how desperate he is. He’ll take you up on it, and it’ll piss Mark off!”

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Mark A. Roeder

83

Everyone thought that was funny as hell, including Brandon, although he said, “Fuck you,” to Jon. “See what I mean?” said Jon. “Now he wants me!” “Dream on, boy. If I was gay, I’d pick you last. Besides, I have a girlfriend!” Jon laughed. “Yeah, but I bet you aren’t getting any.” Brandon grinned and got a dreamy look on his face. “You are so wrong, bro.” “Hey, Marshall, if you want you can take a shower after Taylor,” said Jon. “I’d appreciate that.” “Why not take one with Taylor,” said Brandon. “Oh, wait. Sorry, I had you confused with Mark there for a moment.” Everyone laughed again. I left my friends behind to enter Jon’s bathroom. I stripped and turned on the hot water. Ahhhh, steam! I couldn’t wait to get in. I stepped inside and pulled the shower curtain closed. The delicious hot water massaged my skin. Only sex felt better than this. I shampooed my hair, reveling in the soapy feeling. My oily hair killed the suds fast, so I rinsed and shampooed again. I got my entire body all soapy as I relaxed under the hot, massaging water. The temperature was perfect—pure bliss. I tried not to stay too long in the shower, but it was difficult to make myself leave. With regret, I rinsed, turned off the water, and climbed out. I dried off, then realized my clean clothes were still in the car. I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped out into the room. I was met by whistles and catcalls. “Yeah, baby! Take it off, Taylor!” yelled Brandon. “Show us what you’ve got stud!” said Jon. “Hands off, you sex-deprived maniacs. He’s all mine!” said Mark. I blushed, but grinned. “Mark, could you get me some clothes from the car?” I asked. “Sure thing, Babe.” “Aww,” said everyone else in the room. I blushed more, but it made me feel good to be so accepted. “Your turn,” I said to Marshall, who immediately headed for the bathroom. I was sure he’d enjoy his shower as much as I had mine. Mark soon returned with boxers, socks, jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel shirt. There was nowhere private for me to dress, but it hardly mattered. They’d all seen me naked in the locker room plenty of times. Of course, there were more whistles and catcalls, and I turned red once more, especially since I was getting a semi. “Damn, I’m glad you’re gay, Taylor,” said Brandon. “With a pole that size, none of us would stand a chance with the girls if you were straight.”

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“Watch it, Mark. Brandon is going for your boyfriend!” yelled Jon. “Oh, like you haven’t noticed Taylor’s hung like a horse,” said Brandon. I felt my face grow warmer still and knew I’d just turned crimson. I quickly pulled up my boxers, then slipped on my jeans. “Well, at least I wasn’t staring,” said Jon. “You stare at my dick all the time, Jon,” said Brandon. “Yeah, because I’m amazed it’s so small.” Mark rolled his eyes. Brandon and Jon could go off on each other for hours. They never got mad, though; it was all just a game to them. Several minutes later, Marshall came out of the bathroom and made the mistake of asking, “What have you guys been doing while I was gone?” “Talking about Taylor’s dick; it’s fucking huge,” said Brandon. Marshall looked shocked, but then laughed. “Okay, um, maybe I should just go back into the bathroom.” “That get you hot, Marshall? You going in there to jerk it?” asked Brandon. “Down, Brandon,” said Mark. “Marshall isn’t used to your vulgar sense of humor yet. You’ll have to forgive Brandon, Marshall; he isn’t civilized.” Marshall had turned red, but he laughed. We hung out and played cards for a while, then Brandon drove Mark, Marshall, and me home. We carried everything up to the bedroom I shared with Marshall, then walked back to the car. It was getting late and we all had school the next day, so I gave Mark a lingering kiss, then walked to the front door of Graymoor with Marshall. “Feels good to be clean, doesn’t it?” I asked. “Sure does,” said Marshall. A long, loud wail came from somewhere inside the house. Marshall and I both looked at each other then pushed open the front door. “What a life we live,” I said.

ETHAN—NOVEMBER 1980 I awakened with a frown. I knew without even glancing at the windows that the sky was cloudy and gray. The same old problems greeted me, and I wished I could have just stayed asleep. Everything had seemed just fine the evening before, but now…Could the pills I’d bought from Austin have altered my perception that much? I felt a profound sense of disappointment. I was back to square one. I guess I’d gotten a little vacation from my problems, but nothing was solved, nothing was changed, and doom still hung over my head. I got up and stretched. I skipped my shower since I’d had one the night before. I dressed for school and ambled downstairs for some cereal. Uncle Jack was out and about already, of course. I saw him so rarely it was as if I lived alone. As I poured Frosted Flakes into my bowl, the image of Nathan’s fearful expression came back to me, immediately followed by my fantasies of Mark, Taylor, and Jon while I was showering. Had I actually thought of asking Mark and Taylor if they’d be interested in a three-way? I really was out of it after I’d taken those pills. I poured milk on my cereal, sat down, and began to eat. The pills I’d purchased from Austin provided an escape, but I wasn’t going to take any more of them. It just wasn’t me. I didn’t even know what they were, and I had taken them anyway. How stupid was that? I was faced with unresolved problems. I had worse than a death sentence hanging over my head. My life didn’t even seem real anymore. One thing was for damn sure, though: I wasn’t going to run away with my tail between my legs. I was going to stay and fight. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to run, but how could I live with myself after that? No, whatever happened, I wasn’t running away like a coward. On the drive to school I thought about Jon. My flight of fancy in the shower reminded me of my feelings for him—not that they were ever far from my mind. - 85 -

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Despite knowing he wasn’t gay and couldn’t be what I wanted, I just couldn’t quite give up on the idea. Some little part of me just kept on hoping that he’d come to me and tell me he was willing to try. I guess I hoped that his love for me was so strong it would grow into something more. I wanted his love as my friend to turn into love as my boyfriend. I knew I was deluding myself, but I just couldn’t let go. The evening before I’d been thinking only of sex, but I wanted a lot more from Jon than that. Sure, I wanted sex, lots and lots of it, but I also wanted love. Why did I love him so when I could never have him? I loved him so much that sometimes I thought my heart would burst. Unrequited love sucked. If one person loved another, the feeling should automatically be mutual. Anything else was just pure cruelty. I wanted a life with Jon more than I’d ever wanted anything else, but I knew my dreams could never be. I lived in torment, denied my dream. Life was many things, but it wasn’t fair. I was getting so worked up I was on the verge of tears. That wasn’t like me. There was just too much going on in my life, and it was more than I could handle. Part of me felt that everything would be okay if only Jon would love me, but I knew that wouldn’t make Devon and the others go away. If my wish came true, it would only put Jon in danger as well. It wouldn’t solve my problems; it would only create new ones. Worrying about Devon and company going after Jon would be far worse than worrying about them coming after me. I pulled the truck into the school parking lot. I shut off the engine, then slammed the door shut. I tensed at the sight of Devon and his buddies. They were all there, standing around Devon’s car, talking and laughing. Devon looked at me and grinned as I passed. I swallowed hard and tried not to let my fear show. Any one of those guys alone wasn’t a danger to me, but as a pack they could be lethal. I wondered if I should start carrying a knife or something. There was no note waiting for me in my locker, thank God. The last one had given me more than enough to think about. When would they try to jump me— after school in the parking lot, somewhere on the farm, or in town? I had no idea, but I suspected they’d be watching me, just waiting to get me alone. I was determined they wouldn’t have a chance. If I went anywhere, I’d make sure Brandon or someone else was with me. I couldn’t do much about being alone on the farm, but at least I’d probably be able to see them coming. I’d have a chance to get away. One thing was for sure, if they did jump me, I was going to use everything I had to defend myself. If one or more of them got killed in the fight, that was just his tough luck. More than likely I’d be the one getting killed, or worse. I shuddered every time I thought about what they’d promised to do to me.

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I saw Devon hassling some kid between second and third periods. I didn’t stick around to watch, but I heard Devon call him a fag. Something needed to be done to stop crap like that, but who was going to do it? If you were queer, you were hounded at every turn. All anyone had to do was look at Mark and Taylor to understand that. They were hassled and pushed around daily, even though guys like Brandon were looking out for them. The gay boys had too few defenders. For every guy like Brandon there were ten others just itching to beat the crap out of anyone they suspected of being gay. I was a little surprised Mark and Taylor didn’t get it any worse. About the only way to remain safe was to remain hidden. If I would’ve known what trouble it would stir up for me, I would have kept my eyes to myself in the locker room. My only crime was checking out Jon a bit too openly, and now I might be facing a fate worse than death. As far as most of the school was concerned, I was as straight as could be. I had a girlfriend and everything. Sure, I sat by Mark and Taylor at lunch, but so did Brandon, Jon, Steve, and a few others—none of whom was suspected of being gay. Devon and his crew knew my secret, however, and that was more than enough. I didn’t have to endure daily taunts, but I did live in fear of going to my own locker, and I’d likely come to a very nasty end. I paused for a moment and wondered if I could sit with Mark and Taylor at lunch. After all, I’d gone off on Tay only the day before. It was nothing but an insincere act, but what would others think if I went right back to sitting by him? Then again, what did I care? Most people would just think we’d gotten over the incident. They could think whatever they wanted. I was sitting with my friends. I was a marked man. Devon and his buddies were after me, so what would sitting with Mark and Taylor change? “Hey, sexy.” I turned. Kim put her arms around my neck and kissed me just as Devon walked by. He shot me a look that seemed to say, Yeah, play the part, fag. Act like a straight boy, but in the end your ass is mine. I sighed. I knew I shouldn’t be leading Kim on, but what could I do? I desperately needed my friends and classmates to believe I was straight. Besides, going out with Kim wasn’t so bad. I didn’t want to have sex with her and often found her annoying, but I enjoyed at least some parts of our relationship. She seemed happy, so maybe I wasn’t doing such a bad thing after all. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Ethan. Maybe if you repeat it enough, you’ll believe it. My day grew steadily worse. I seemed especially attuned to every utterance of “fag,” “faggot,” “cocksucker,” “queer,” and all the many variations of insults hurled at gay boys and those who were suspected of not being completely

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straight. None of them was aimed at me, not in a serious tone at least, but I felt as if I was under attack. By the end of third period I’d popped a couple more of Austin’s pills in my mouth—so much for staying away from drugs. By lunch I was pleasantly buzzed, and it was a good thing, too. Devon and company were glaring at Mark and Taylor and making snide comments, as always. I was quite sure their looks of hatred were aimed at me, too. There was no real proof I was gay, but that didn’t matter to them. I’d checked Jon out in the locker room, and that was enough evidence to convict me in their prejudiced court. I didn’t let them get to me. With the help of my little friends I was feeling fine and even laughed a time or two. That drew some odd looks from those sitting near, which only made me laugh louder. Nathan alone among our crowd looked frightened. ✶

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A couple of days slipped by without event. The pills provided by Austin helped me deal with the stress. I’d already been to visit him for a new supply, and he said he could hook me up any time I wanted. He also told me that if I ran low on cash, he could hook me up with a way to make money fast. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but did say it didn’t involve selling drugs. I was okay for the moment, so I didn’t press him for details. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anyway. The pills had a side effect of making me extremely aroused, which was enjoyable but made the task of maintaining secrecy all the harder. I was relieving the tension three or more times a day and was still assailed with need. It was a situation I could handle, however, since never once in my life had my sexual needs actually been met, at least not with a partner anyway. I was probably destined to become the world’s oldest virgin, if Devon and his crew didn’t kill me first. At the end of yet another school day I looked into the bottom of my locker to see another note. I just stared down at it, my heart pounding in my chest. How could the sight of a simple piece of paper fill me with such fear? I kneeled down and picked up the note. I was actually relieved when I read it: Hey, fag. Write me a three page report on The Lord of the Flies, and make it a good one. If I’m pleased, we’ll delay your appointment with pain a bit longer. If I’m not…well, you know what’s gonna happen. Leave it in the library tomorrow morning, stuck in the first volume of the World Book Encyclopedia.

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The note was almost bland compared with the two I’d receive before it. I wasn’t pleased to be ordered to write a stupid three-page report, but compared to the threat of a severe beating and worse, it was nothing. The note did have the effect of making me feel like a dog on a leash, forced to do my master’s bidding. I considering leaving a note in the library that said, “Go screw yourself,” but the truth was I was more than willing to write a three-page report if it would give me even a little breathing space. I wrote the report that night, as ordered. I had a copy of The Lord of the Flies, but even without it, I could’ve written a damn good report. There were all kinds of stuff that could be said about the symbolism in the book. English teachers just ate up that kind of crap. I’d read and enjoyed the book, but I didn’t see the need to analyze everything. I understood the symbolism, so why did it need discussing? I guess not everyone got it, however. A lot of people probably thought it was just a book about boys running wild on an island. I left the report in the library as instructed, feeling relieved that my day of reckoning would be delayed. As I walked toward my locker, I actually began to hope that I’d find a similar note there soon, ordering me to perform another menial chore. If I proved useful to my tormentor, then maybe he’d change his mind and I wouldn’t get my ass kicked. Self-hatred consumed me the moment the thought crossed my mind. Was I actually willing to be someone’s slave just to escape a beating? Had I become so weak I’d let someone control me like that? I was pathetic. The relief I’d felt over my reprieve evaporated instantly. I’d actually been thankful my tormentor was delaying the fate he had planned for me. I’d felt real gratitude toward him, toward one of the very boys who had beaten Mark senseless. I hated how he controlled me. I hated what he was making me into! I was a spineless piece of shit. I reached my locker and began working the combination. I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. The more I thought about the situation, the angrier I became—at my tormenter and myself. I was so frustrated, and there was no way out! “Damn!” I said, slamming my fist into my locker. I’d made three tries to get the combination to work right, and it still wouldn’t open. “Are you okay?” asked Taylor. “I’m just…This stupid locker won’t open!” “Here, let me try it. What’s the combination?” I told Taylor the numbers, and he opened my locker on the first try. A momentary wave of fear passed over me. What if there was another note in my

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locker and Taylor saw it? I realized how ridiculous I was being. Taylor knew all about the notes. I’d grown so accustomed to being secretive it had become a habit. “Thanks.” “No problem.” Taylor stood there awkwardly for a few moments before speaking again. “Ethan…listen, I don’t want to get into something that isn’t my business, but some of us have noticed that you’re…well, acting differently.” “Wouldn’t you be?” “I don’t mean…what I mean to say is…you’ve seemed kind of out of it recently. Are you…” “Don’t go there, Taylor. I know what you’re going to say, and you have nothing to worry about. I’m fine. Well, I’m as good as can be expected under the circumstances.” “Ethan…” “I don’t want to talk about it!” I realized I’d just shouted at Taylor. Heads were turning in our direction. “I’m sorry,” I said more quietly. “I’m just dealing with a lot of stress, as you know. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s kind of you to be concerned, but, really, there’s nothing to be worried about. I’ve got it all under control.” Now, there was a lie if there ever was one. One look at Taylor’s face was enough to tell me he obviously didn’t believe me, but he said nothing more. “I’ve got to get to class,” I said and departed as quickly as I could without being rude. The notes were really getting to me. Yeah, I’d been granted a short reprieve, but it only delayed the inevitable. My tormentor might not even keep his word. I knew Devon, Alex, Jeremy, and Rob were just waiting for their chance. I tried not to show fear when I crossed their path, but it was difficult. I had a constant feeling of nervousness, as if my whole world was falling apart. A little part of me wished they’d just get it over with, but the rest of me was willing to do just about anything to avoid it. I hated that part of myself. I never thought I’d become so weak. Concern was written all over the faces of Taylor and Mark at lunch. Nathan looked worried about me, too, but also frightened. Even Brandon and Jon acted oddly around me, as if I’d become a stranger overnight. It was just what I didn’t need: all my friends on my case. They were beginning to piss me off. I was dealing with some serious problems, and they were getting bent out of shape just because I was seeking a little escape, for once in my life. I remembered the graveyard party where Taylor and Mark got so wasted they started making out. Yeah,

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they had room to talk! If they thought they were going to act all moral and upright with me, I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. I left the table in a surly mood. I couldn’t even enjoy sitting with my friends anymore. Everything good in my life was being taken away from me, little by little. It was as if there was some unseen force that had decided to see just how much torment I could stand before I cracked. “Hey, Ethan, wait up!” It was Brandon. I was just walking out the cafeteria doors to go outside for a bit of fresh air. I needed to clear my head, but I feared a lecture was coming instead. “Ethan, what’s bothering you?” asked Brandon. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “I’m getting worried about you. We all are. We’ve noticed you’ve been…not quite yourself recently.” “Listen, Taylor got into this with me this morning, and I don’t want…” “I don’t care what you want, Ethan. Whether you realize it or not, you’re screwing up your life.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t, Ethan, but you need to. What are you on, Ethan?” “Fuck off.” Brandon grabbed my upper arm as I began to walk away and swung me around. I cocked my fist back. “What are you going to do, hit me?” asked Brandon. “Just leave me alone!” I shouted and walked away. Thankfully he let me do so. I was practically shaking and felt almost as if I could cry. I took a couple more pills as soon as I managed to find some privacy. As if I didn’t have enough problems, now Brandon was probably pissed off at me, too. My friends were worried about me, but they had it all wrong. The pills weren’t my problem. Devon and his crew were my problem. The pills were the only thing keeping me from completely losing it and driving Uncle Jack’s truck off a cliff. At least he wasn’t on my case, although he probably would’ve been if he’d been around enough to notice what was going on. I obviously needed to do a better job of keeping my feelings under wraps. I rubbed my eyes. They stung a bit, as if I was overtired. I was tired—sick and tired of being a puppet on a string—and tired, too, of friends who wouldn’t leave me alone. I wondered if I should give the whole running-away thing some more thought. Each day was a little more unbearable than the one before, and things would only get worse.

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Jon was waiting by my truck as I walked across the school parking lot at the end of day. I approached him apprehensively. “Are you going to get on my case, too?” I asked. “No, I just thought you could use someone to talk to. Brandon told me about your discussion at lunch. I promise, no lectures. Can I ride home with you? We can talk while you work or whatever.” “Where’s your car?” “Home. It’s been acting up. I rode with Brandon this morning.” “Okay, hop in,” I said reluctantly. I figured that despite his promise, he’d get around to lecturing me sooner or later. “So, are you excited about your match with Zac?” asked Jon. Zac and I would soon be facing off for the school wrestling championship. I’d had so many problems recently I hadn’t given it much thought. That just went to show what a fix I was in. Any other time I would’ve thought about nothing else but winning that match. “Yeah, kind of.” “Well, my money is on you. He’s good, but you’re the master.” I smiled. “Listen, Ethan, if you want to talk about anything, I’m here, okay? I’m not going to pressure you into talking about things you don’t want to discuss, but…I’m here as I said, and if you just want to talk about nothing in particular, well, I’m up for that, too.” “Thanks. I guess Brandon is totally pissed off.” “No, he understands, Ethan. We all have our problems and our ways of dealing with them. He knows he pushed you a little hard. He’s hoping you aren’t mad at him.” “I’m not, but there are some things I just don’t want to discuss, at least not now, and I don’t appreciate my friends getting in my face.” “I’m like that sometimes. It can be good to talk things out, but sometimes I like to just think things through myself. I’m glad you aren’t mad at Brandon. He’s worried about you, as the rest of us are.” I was thankful Jon didn’t take the discussion any further. He was obviously carefully skirting the topic that’d nearly brought Brandon and me to blows. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry if I’ve been a jerk or whatever, but I have some serious shit hanging over my head.”

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“Okay, now don’t get mad, but what was up with that whole scene with Taylor the other day? I mean calling him a faggot and all? He told Brandon and me you had to do it for some reason, but I don’t get it. Why would you have to do that? He said we should be looking out for you, too, in case Devon or any of this crowd gives you any trouble. Are you mixed up with them somehow?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “You’ve said that way too much here lately, Ethan.” “Well, everyone keeps asking me about stuff that is none of their fucking business! God! Why can’t you all just leave me the fuck alone?” “Because we’re your friends,” said Jon quietly. “Listen,” I said, more calmly, “I know you’re concerned, but the only thing you, Brandon, and Taylor are accomplishing is making my life more miserable. If you’re my friends, you’ll just shut up about it.” Jon looked hurt, and I was sorry for making him feel that way, but I was obviously going to have to get tough to get them all off my back. I pulled the truck into the parking area near the farmhouse and cut the engine. Jon and I walked inside. “Want something to eat or drink?” I asked. “No, I’m fine.” “Let’s go upstairs then. I need to change.” Jon ceased to pressure me. It was just in the nick of time, too. I’d nearly reached my breaking point. I opened my closet door and just stared at my clothes for several moments. I didn’t want my life to continue. I wanted it to just stop right there. I didn’t want to go to school the next day. I didn’t want to face my tormentors. I didn’t want to do my chores. I didn’t even want to turn around and face Jon. I felt Jon’s hand on my shoulder. He slowly turned me toward him and hugged me. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back. He had no idea how badly I needed to be held just then, but, then again, maybe he did. All my hopes and desires for us flooded my mind as I stood there in Jon’s embrace. His firm form felt so right pressed against me. My body instantly reacted. I needed him so badly at just that moment. I needed him to hold me, to make love to me. I took my head off his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. I slowly moved my face closer to his. “Ethan, don’t,” he said, beginning to push away. I held him tighter and pressed my lips to his. Jon shoved me away roughly. “What the fuck are you doing, Ethan? You know I’m not like that!”

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“Jon, please, just this once. You know how I feel about you. Please, I need it so bad.” “Ethan, you can’t ask this of me. I’m not gay. You’re my friend and I love you, but I just can’t.” “Please, Jon…just once.” “No. I can’t.” “Why can’t you? It will feel so good. I promise. I’ll make it feel so good for you.” “No, Ethan.” I stepped closer to him. “Come on, Jon. Please.” I reached down and ran my hand over the front of his jeans. “What’s wrong with you?” shouted Jon, shoving me away roughly. “You said you’d be there for me when I needed you. Well, I need you bad, Jon, right now.” “That’s not what I meant!” “Come on, Jon. What’s it going to cost you? Huh? Please, Jon. I need this. I’ve wanted it for so long.” “I don’t believe you,” said Jon. “Ethan, I…are you on drugs right now?” I looked at him angrily. “Well, are you?” “You said you were going to stop harassing me!” “So you are. Ethan, can’t you see what it’s doing to you? Look at how you’re acting. You aren’t the Ethan I know.” “Yeah, well you’re not the friend I thought you were. You know I love you. You know I’m in love with you. I’d just about sell my soul to make love with you, but no, you won’t!” “I’m not gay, Ethan.” “It will still feel good, it…” “Listen to yourself.” “Why are you being such a jerk?” I asked. “Ethan…” “If this is how you’re going to be, why don’t you just get the fuck out of my room and out of my life?” Jon looked like I’d struck him. He turned on his heel and bolted out the door. I was glad he was gone. I was ready to strike him. I’d had enough of his shit. Some friend! I gazed out the window watched as Jon ran up the gravel drive, back towards town. I felt like my heart had just broken. I reached into my pocket and pulled

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out the small bottle I now carried with me everywhere. Time to visit Austin again soon, I said to myself, taking two more pills from the rapidly emptying bottle.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I awakened with a sense of nervous anticipation. It was a typical first-day-of-school feeling, but more pronounced. I’d never experienced a first day of school in an alternate reality. A thousand things could go wrong. Seth was still snoozing away, so I headed for the bathroom to take a shower before he awakened. I was going to have to get used to sharing my life with a brother. I’d have to get used to having just one bathroom again, too. At least the little house I shared with my family was snug and warm. I couldn’t say as much for Graymoor. Graymoor—I missed it. I’d been anything but happy when we’d moved there, but now I was homesick for it. I hated thinking of it in its ruined state. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at it as I bolted out, but it was a wreck. My parents had done so much to restore the stately old mansion, and now all their work had been undone. Worse than that, it looked as if Graymoor had suffered a disaster. There was evidence of a great fire. It looked as if all the windows had been shattered, too. That seemed unnatural. Vandals were capable of breaking windows, but I seriously doubted any set of vandals would have the dedication to break every one of the hundreds of windows in Graymoor. I sincerely doubted they’d be able to find their way into all the rooms to get at them all. I’d lived there for months and had explored often, and even I hadn’t been in all the rooms yet! I climbed into the shower and luxuriated in the hot water. I worked shampoo into my hair and soaped up while I thought of my old home. I was curious to explore it and investigate its current state, but I feared Graymoor as never before. I’d felt a menacing sense of evil as the disembodied voice told me to get out. My skin had gone cold and clammy, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. There was the other voice, too, warning me to leave. I hadn’t sensed evil connected with that voice, but true concern for my safety, as if a kinder spirit was

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attempting to protect me from harm. I had a feeling that Graymoor Mansion was a far more dangerous place in this reality than the one I’d come from. The shower curtain suddenly jerked back. I yelped in fright. “Seth!” “Hurry up! I’ve got to shower, too!” “Okay, okay, but don’t do that again! Hand me a towel.” I rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. Seth stripped right there in front of me. I stole one quick look at his nakedness, then covered my head with the towel, drying my hair and avoiding temptation at the same time. I’d have to get up a bit earlier, or at least lock the bathroom door, if I didn’t want this scene repeated. I wrapped the towel around my waist and brushed my teeth while Seth took his shower. I wondered how I’d fare at school. At least I wouldn’t be going into an entirely unknown situation, but I wondered if that might not have been easier. Most everything would probably be familiar on the surface, but I had no idea of the differences between this reality and the one I’d come from. I might walk up to a friend and start talking, only to discover he didn’t know me in this timeline. I just hoped I wouldn’t make a fool of myself or start everyone thinking I’d lost my mind. ✶

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I halted and took a deep breath at the base of the steps. I looked up at the familiar old school building, knowing what I’d find inside might not be familiar at all. I held my locker number, combination, and class schedule in my hand like a crib sheet. In my backpack I carried the books and notebooks I’d found on my desk. I found my locker easily enough. My textbooks looked a bit different, but I didn’t figure they’d changed much on the inside. I doubted even a shift in reality would do anything to change textbooks. They were almost always boring and quite often just plain wrong. I could remember any number of occasions when teachers had to give us corrections to texts. It was as if those who put them out cared far more about profit than accuracy. My first surprise of the day wrapped me in its arms and kissed me on the lips. “Hi, Baby, why didn’t you call me this weekend, and, oh my God, what did you do to your hair?” “Zoë! Hi. I, um, well I was extremely busy; some unexpected stuff came up.” That was sure the truth. “Give me a kiss.”

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I started to give her a peck on the cheek, but she grabbed my face, planted her lips on mine, and shot her tongue into my mouth. My eyes widened in shock. “Get that tongue in there!” I jerked my head to the side as Zoë broke the kiss. I recognized the voice. It was Skye. He was already halfway down the hall by the time I got a look at him, so I returned my attention to Zoë. “So, um…” I said. “Let me look at you,” said Zoë, holding me at arm’s length. “I didn’t even recognize you at first. Hmm, I’ve always loved your blond hair but you look sexy with dark hair, too. It’s like I have a new boyfriend.” She laughed. “I’ll feel like I’m cheating on you every time we make out.” “Um, yeah.” “For future reference, all changes having to do with your physical appearance must be approved by me.” Zoë was smiling, but I was quite sure she meant what she said. “Anything you say.” “We need to talk,” said Zoë. “Don’t get that look on your face. It’s nothing bad! You can take me to Café Moffatt after school.” “Um, yeah, sure,” I said. Zoë grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway. I noticed a lot of familiar faces and a lot of not so familiar ones, as well. A chill went down my spine when I spotted Ken Clark, and I immediately wondered if it was really him, or Devon posing as Ken. I guess it wasn’t likely that it was an evil spirit posing as Ken, but after my recent experience with just that scenario, the possibility was much on my mind. More than likely Ken was alive and well here, just like Marty, and that was good news indeed. I wondered if Tony Paulik was alive as well. Seeing boys who were dead in my world was a bit of a shock, but then so was Zoë slipping her tongue into my mouth! Zoë led me to her first-period class, which I shared. I realized as I stepped into the room that I didn’t know which seat was mine. When Zoë looked at the seat beside her, then at me expectantly, it wasn’t too hard to figure out where I belonged. I took my seat and observed my classmates filing in. I stiffened as Kyle walked through the door. There was the very boy who’d murdered Marty, Ken, and Tony and had tried to kill me. I had to remind myself that things were different in this reality. The fact that Marty, Ken, and possibly Tony were alive and well was concrete evidence that Kyle hadn’t killed them. Kyle’s short dark hair and dreamy brown eyes made him extremely attractive, but

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I couldn’t get his murderous visage out of my head. When someone tries to kill you, even in another reality, it’s a hard thing to forget! I was getting a lot of looks from my classmates, no doubt because they were accustomed to a blond Sean. I wondered if I could keep my hair its natural color or if I’d have to bleach it eventually. I wasn’t going to worry about that for the moment. I had bigger things to consider. A teacher I did not recognize entered, and the room grew quieter. She was an older lady with bluish hair and pleasant, yet stern, features. I had the feeling she was not someone to mess with. “Now, class, today we’ll begin our discussion of Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. I hope you’ve all read the first two chapters as assigned on Friday.” It was quite a weird coincidence that I’d received the exact same assignment from my own literature teacher. I hoped I’d be so lucky in my other classes. I had not had time to complete the reading assignment, but I’d read Catcher in the Rye before, so I wouldn’t be lost. I rather liked the book, although it seemed to be about little other than the main character talking about his hat. Zoë smiled at me now and then during class. Her demeanor toward me, even more than her tongue in my mouth, told me she was indeed my girlfriend. I’d suspected what we had going was just an act to protect me, but it was obvious that such was not the case. I couldn’t believe that I’d led Zoë on and actually tricked her into believing I had those kinds of feelings for her. I cared about her too much as a friend to use her like that. I was beginning to wonder if the Sean in this reality wasn’t as big of a jerk as Seth. Whatever the Sean native to this place had done, I was here now, so I had to clean up his mess. I just didn’t know how I was going to go about it. My fear that a duplicate Sean would appear on the scene had all but disappeared. If he was going to show up, he would have done so already. Zoë gave me a quick peck on the lips and scurried off after first period. I didn’t know what I was going to do about her. How could I possibly have been stupid enough to get myself into such a mess? I halfway wished the Sean from this reality would show up so I could give him a piece of my mind. I had no close friends in my next class, so I didn’t know where to sit. I went back into the hall and waited until most of the others had gone in, then I reentered. There were only three seats left. I began to make for an open seat near the back, but a girl I didn’t know took it, so I took one of the two empty seats closer to the front. I must’ve gotten it right because no one commented. I lucked out in third period because I shared that class with Marty. When I didn’t immediately sit down, he glanced at the desk next to him, much as Zoë

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had done. Having Marty back in my life was a dream come true. It even made up for the whole mess with Zoë. I’ve heard it said that you don’t appreciate someone until they’re gone, and it was true. I’d valued Marty as a friend before he was killed, but after I’d lost him, I missed him so much that sometimes I cried myself to sleep. Having him back was a miracle. A part of me didn’t even want to return to where I belonged. Time sped by. School had never been such an adventure. I slipped up here and there, but overall I adapted quite well. When I did make an error I passed it off as a joke. My biggest mistake of the morning was greeting Skye in the hallway as if we were friends. He immediately turned and scowled at me. “And you’re talking to me for what reason?” he asked. “I, uh…you commented on me kissing my girlfriend this morning.” “That doesn’t make us friends,” he said, before he turned and walked away. I was hurt at being summarily dismissed by someone who had been my friend, but things were different here. “You’d better not mess with Skye,” said Marty, coming up beside me. “He’d sooner kick your ass than speak to you. What were you thinking?” “I…just thought…maybe he’d lighten up if I was nice to him.” “Hello!” said Marty, knocking on my head. “Let me remind you in case you’ve forgotten. Skye—bad ass, top of the food chain. Us—meek nothings who’d be wise to stay out of his way. Do I need remind you of what he did to Ryan Maclaine last year?” “Um…yeah.” Marty looked at me strangely. “You can’t have forgotten something like that.” “Humor me.” “Ryan—center forward on the soccer team, super jock, taken out by Skye, beaten senseless, now Skye’s bitch. If Skye can take a guy like Ryan down, we’re no challenge at all.” Whoa, that didn’t sound like the Skye I knew. Well, it sounded quite a bit like Skye before he changed. I guessed he hadn’t changed here. That was too bad, because Skye had turned out to be really cool, not to mention a major asset in keeping the homophobes in check. Maybe I could talk to him and become friends with him eventually. He was gay, after all; we had that much in common. It was not something I could mention to Skye, but possessing that small bit of knowledge was quite an advantage. Marty sat across from me at lunch, and it was a dream come true. How many times after he’d died had I wished for just a few minutes more with him? Now, I had those few minutes and far more. I caught sight of Ken Clark, Jimmy Ker-

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stadd, and even Tony Paulik. They were all dead in my reality, but alive here. I thought of Jimmy for a moment. He’d died of a heart attack brought on by steroid use. Should I try to warn him, or was it something that wasn’t going to happen here at all? From the looks of him, he could well be on steroids. He was built! He’d likely think I was crazy if I warned him of his possible fate. It was something I’d have to think about. I had so much to consider! For the moment, I just enjoyed eating my corn dog across from Marty. I looked around, but Zoë was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she had a different lunch period, or maybe she just didn’t eat lunch with me. I wanted more than anything to spend time with Marty after school, hanging out at his house as we’d done so often in the past, but I’d promised Zoë I’d take her to Café Moffatt. I reminded myself I’d have plenty of time to spend with Marty. Perhaps we’d even become more than friends. Every time I thought of Marty as a potential boyfriend, I felt a twinge of guilt, which led straight into worry over Nick. I’d seen no sign of him at school, and all the evidence seemed to indicate I didn’t know him. If he did exist, he was somewhere else. Part of my mind told me I needed to get on with my life. Nick wasn’t here, and he wasn’t likely to show up. Whatever Marshall had done, the change could well be permanent. For all I knew, this was my life now, and I’d never return to what I’d known. I was here in any case, and I had to play the hand I was dealt. I looked across the table at Marty and smiled. The hand I’d been dealt wasn’t so bad at all. I’d wished to have Marty back in my life, and my wish had been granted. All was not well in my new world, though. I felt almost as if I was walking through a field laced with land mines. Most of the faces around me were familiar, but many of the relationships were changed. Some of my friends acted as if they didn’t know me when I spoke to them, and others I didn’t know acted like friends. In order to keep from sticking my foot in it, I tried to hang back and react to others instead of initiating any type of interaction. If someone was friendly, I was friendly, too. If they took no notice of me, I pretended to take no notice of them. I experienced a profound sense of relief as my first day at school came to an end. I’d lived through it without making myself look like a complete fool. Some things freaked me out: Kyle the most of all. It was only with supreme effort that I was able to keep myself from shrinking away from him whenever he neared. I had to remind myself that he might not be the same here at all. Perhaps he was noth-

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ing more than the friendly, good-looking kid he appeared to be. I was in a new world, and all bets were off. Zoë met me at my locker after school and gave me another kiss that made some of the boys around us drool. It weirded me out. It was like…well, if I had a sister, it would be like her coming up and French kissing me all of a sudden. I knew I wasn’t performing up to Zoë’s expectations, from the expression on her face as she pulled away. Her eyes asked the question, what’s wrong with you? I might have asked her the same. Zoë took my hand and led me from the school. We walked down the sidewalk, and I found it comforting, despite the general creepiness of our relationship. “Are you okay, Sean?” “I guess, why?” “You seem…different. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, except your hair, but…” “It’s like I’m not really the same person?” “Yes, that’s it. It’s like you’ve been replaced by an impostor, a very handsome imposter I might add.” “Maybe I have been.” Did I dare tell her the truth? “You also don’t seem all that interested when we kiss. Are you growing tired of me, Sean?” “I, uh…no, but…” Zoë began to look very unhappy. “I’m not getting tired of you, Zoë. I love you.” “But there is a ‘but’ there.” I felt almost as if I was going to cry, and Zoë did not fail to notice. “Sean, what’s wrong?” “More than you could imagine or believe.” “Sean?” “We need to talk, Zoë, but I don’t think Café Moffatt is the place. We need to be alone.” “Are you going to break up with me, Sean?” Zoë was getting a bit watery-eyed herself. “No…I…but things aren’t…Oh! This is frustrating!” “Why don’t we go to my house?” suggested Zoë. “My parents won’t be home for hours.” “Okay,” I said, making the turn off Main Street toward Zoë’s home. “Um, this way,” said Zoë, leading me in the opposite direction. “Yeah, right.”

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A few minutes later we were sitting in Zoë’s living room, but it wasn’t her living room. It wasn’t even the right house. I felt disoriented. “So, what do you have to talk to me about that can’t be said in front of others?” asked Zoë. I could hear the nervous, fearful anticipation in her voice. “I don’t know if I should talk to you about this at all,” I said. “Well, does it affect us?” “Yes, us, Marty and me, my parents and me, everyone and me.” “I don’t quite understand.” “We’ve been friends for a long time, right?” “Yes,” said Zoë. “I don’t want to lie to you. You are far too valuable a friend for me to do that to you.” “You’ve been lying to me?” “Sort of, today, anyway. I haven’t really lied, but I’ve been…This is hard to put into words. I haven’t been being myself today, or rather…I’m not who you…Oh, this is impossible!” “Just tell me.” “I will, but hear me out, okay? No matter how crazy it may seem, no matter what you think I might be up to, just let me tell you what I have to without interrupting me. I’ll warn you now. You’ll think I’m either lying or insane, but what I’m about to tell you is the truth.” Zoë nodded, looking frightened. “Okay,” I said, standing and then pacing. “How to start…My hair…you think I dyed it, right? Well, I didn’t. It’s supposed to be this color. I’m not blond. I never have been.” Zoë started to speak, but I held up my hand. “Just listen. I’m not the Sean you think I am. You said yourself it’s like I’m a different person. Well, I am. I’m Sean, but not the Sean you know. Something happened. My friend, Marshall, who doesn’t seem to exist here, did something to change time. He created some kind of alternate reality. I don’t belong here. This isn’t my reality, but I’m trapped here.” Zoë rubbed her temples and gazed at me. “If you’re trying to be funny, it isn’t working.” “I’m not trying to be funny. Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth! I swear it is. You are I are close friends where I come from, and that’s why I have to tell you the truth. I can’t bear to hurt you or lie to you. You’re my girlfriend here, but it’s not like that at all where I come from! It’s not even possible!”

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“If you want to break up with me, why don’t you just say so?” said Zoë angrily. “Are you making up this wild tale because you feel you can’t just break up with me after we’ve slept together?” “Slept together?” “Don’t tell me you don’t remember that! You spent weeks talking me into it! You practically begged, and I gave myself to you.” My bottom jaw dropped open in disbelief. Zoë and I had slept together; we’d had sex? “I can’t remember it, because I’m not him. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Besides that, I’m…” “I thought you’d be different. A lot of my friends told me not to sleep with you, because once you got what you wanted, you’d be on your way. I told them you weren’t like that, but I guess I was wrong.” “I’m not like that. I…” “It’s bad enough that you’re dumping me, but to insult my intelligence with this ridiculous story…You should be man enough to just say what you have to say and not try to blame everything on some crazy batch of nonsense.” “But Zoë!” “Get out!” “Let me explain!” “Get out now, Sean! Get out! Get out! Get out!” Zoë screeched at me. I was sure my face had gone completely white. I walked quickly from the room. I’d never seen Zoë so angry before. Worse than that, she was hurt. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I thought to myself as I walked away from Zoë’s home. How could I have thought for even a moment that she’d believe my wild tale? The fact that it was true did nothing to make it more believable. Now on top of all my other problems, one of my best friends hated me.

SKYE—FALL 1997 Jimmy and Greg eyed me warily the next morning, as well they might after the stunt they’d tried to pull. I guess I couldn’t blame them. If someone was blackmailing me, I’d sure be looking for a way out. I knew I’d have to play this game carefully. If I pushed Greg too far he might crack and simply turn himself in for steroid use and end my control of him. The problem was that he might take Jimmy down with him, and I didn’t want to lose my control over that boy. Jimmy was my main competition, and keeping him on a short leash made my life much easier. Some might call me a coward for blackmailing Jimmy instead of beating him the old-fashioned way. Some might get their asses kicked for daring to say such a thing, too. The way I looked at it, life was a game and everything was a part of it. Jimmy had chosen to build himself up with illegal drugs, and now he was paying the price. I could also argue that without the steroids he wouldn’t be such a force to be reckoned with: He wouldn’t be nearly as strong and therefore wouldn’t even be in the same league as I am. I built my body without the help of drugs. I made my choices and Jimmy made his, so he had only himself to blame for his predicament. Jimmy had far more to lose than Greg, so I could push him a good deal harder. I had no intention of making his life a living hell, but I was going to enjoy myself. Jimmy was my toy, and I intended to play with him. The main benefit, of course, was that he was out of the running for quarterback and team captain. When next year rolled around, it would all be mine. ✶

✶

✶

✶

“Hey, any of you guys seen Josh today?” I asked as I sat down in my usual spot in the cafeteria for lunch. - 105 -

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No one had seen him. “I think he’s home sick,” said Brent. “Maybe I scared him too bad last night.” “What did you do?” asked Jimmy, nervously. I told the gang about the little joke I’d played on him with Mrs. Leander. “Aww, you shouldn’t mess with Ben’s woman,” said Jeremy. “He might get jealous.” Ben actually blushed, which made me wonder if the rumor about him and Mrs. Leander was true. Damn, someone could base a soap opera on V.H.S. “I wasn’t messing with Mrs. Leander. I was messing with Josh’s mind.” “With a friend like you, who needs enemies,” laughed Jeremy. Jimmy actually flinched when I reached out for the salt. I’d sat down right next to him, and he acted as if I was a bomb that might go off at any second. While I derived a sense of satisfaction from his fear, I was going to have to tell him to chill out or the guys might start wondering what was up. Our new relationship needed to be kept low key for it to work, at least for the time being. Keeping things toned down was insurance against Jimmy turning on me. If I treated Jimmy like my personal slave in front of the guys and he later exposed the fact I’d been blackmailing him, I’d look guilty for sure. If I treated him as I always had, they’d just laugh at him if he made such an accusation. You see, I’ve thought this through. I’m not a dumb jock like you’ve been thinking. As if I care what you think! Don’t bother trying to analyze me, just keeping reading and wishing you were me. Yeah, you know you wanna be me. Who wouldn’t? I motioned to Jimmy and Greg with my head as the guys began to wander away from the table. We dumped our trays, and I walked outside. Jimmy and Greg followed like two faithful dogs. Once we got outside, I turned on them. “Will you two knock it off?” I said. “Every time I get near you, you act as if I’m going to belt you in the face. Make no mistake, I own both of you, but I’m not going to harm you or humiliate you in front of the guys, or anyone else for that matter. I’m not out to ruin your lives or your reputations.” “Yeah, right,” said Jimmy. “Do you really think I want to fuck things up for you? Do you think I want to ruin your chances of getting that football scholarship and maybe turning pro? Use your head. It’s in my best interest to do nothing that would hurt your chances. Hell, I’ve even help you if I can, because the better chance you have at succeeding, the surer I am that you’ll remain my little bitch.” Jimmy’s countenance was an essay in surprise.

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“What happens between us stays between us,” I said. “As far as the guys and everyone else are considered, nothing has changed. Got that?” Jimmy and Greg nodded. “So quit worrying like a couple of girls. You do what I want and you’ll have nothing to fear.” “What…what do you want?” asked Greg. “Your cooperation.” “Yeah, but I mean…what will that involve?” “For the most part, I don’t know yet, but when the time comes, I expect you to do what I say.” Greg didn’t look pleased. He wanted details and wasn’t getting them. “I want the two of you to come to the gym tonight before closing. We have a little business to attend to.” “I don’t think my parents will let me go out that late on a school night,” said Greg. “Then leave well before that and just stay out. It’s easier to obtain forgiveness than permission.” “But…” “Do it!” I said. “Okay, okay.” “I’ll see you guys at practice and tonight,” I said. “Now let’s go back in. It’ll be time for class soon.” We walked back inside, all football buddies as far as anyone else was concerned. Man, I loved my life!

TAYLOR—NOVEMBER 1980 I woke up the next morning, shook Marshall awake, and we both walked downstairs to wash our faces in the sink and have breakfast. The Coleman stove was a godsend. With it we could have hot food, which was particularly appealing on chilly mornings. So far we’d only cooked oatmeal for breakfast, but we had plans for pancakes in the near future, probably on weekends when I had more time for making breakfast. Over breakfast Marshall told me of his explorations the previous day. I wouldn’t have been eager to explore Graymoor all on my own, but Marshall was fascinated. He assured me that the old house held many secrets. I must admit that some of the things he described made me want to do a bit of exploring, too. Unlike Marshall, however, I had very little time for such things. Mark arrived to escort me to school before we finished. He was forever looking out for me and protecting me. He was my knight in shining armor. I quickly finished my oatmeal and brushed my teeth so we could have some make-out time before departing. There was nothing like making out with Mark! It was a chilly fall morning as we stepped outside, but the outdoors really wasn’t much colder than the rooms inside Graymoor. Far in the past I’m sure there’d been a crackling fire in every fireplace, but those days were long gone. Even if we had wood to burn, I would’ve been afraid the whole house would burn down if we tried to start a fire. Birds had probably built nests in the chimneys and blocked them up long ago. Some guys from school drove by and flipped us off, but other than that our trip was uneventful. I didn’t let them get me down. I felt better than I had in days, largely because I was warmer and cleaner than I had been since I’d been kicked out of the house. I felt all snuggly in my sweater and leather jacket, and I was squeaky clean. Jon said I could use his shower anytime, and I planned to take him up on his offer. I also realized I could go to school a bit early and shower in - 108 -

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the gym. I was carrying a paper bag containing a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo for just that purpose. I had no need of a shower just yet, but I was going to stuff the bag in my locker for use the next day. At least that one little problem was solved. Mark walking by my side was a reminder of what I wanted in life. I wished I could fast-forward through the unpleasantness of each day and just concentrate on Mark. I’m not just talking about making love, either, although I often felt like I could do that with Mark all day and night. As incredible as the sex was, I enjoyed all of our time together, like now, just walking by his side in the chilly November air. Sometimes our life was almost normal. Ethan seemed a bit out of it when we saw him in the halls. Mark, Brandon, Jon, and I had discussed Ethan, and we were fairly sure he was on something. I’d seen him with Austin, and it didn’t take a genius to add things up. Brandon and Jon figured he was stressed out over his upcoming wrestling match with Zac. They’d be battling it out for the school championship. Mark and I knew he had far more serious problems. I seriously doubted he was sweating the match at all. Ethan was a kick-ass wrestler. He’d nearly defeated Mark and me that day at the water park, even though it was two on one. I was worried about Ethan. He was cracking under the pressure. I understood what it was like for him. I, too, walked under a cloud of doom. We stopped at Mark’s locker first, then mine. When we were together we tended to get picked on less. Everyone knew we would stand up for each other. I wished for the thousandth time that the world was different and that everyone could accept us as just another couple. When you thought about it, our dating each other was the only thing different about us. Otherwise we were just like everybody else. Why did one thing have to make such a big difference? Mark dropped me off at my first-period class and I went inside. It was nice and warm in the classroom, quite a contrast to the chill of Graymoor. I’d never appreciated the pleasure of simply being warm before. There was a lot I’d never appreciated. The recent change in my circumstances had given me a new perspective. Unfortunately, a good deal of my life was anything but pleasant. I groaned when I saw Devon and Rob heading in my direction between first and second period. It was too late to duck into the crowd, and there was no easy escape route. They closed on me quickly and pushed me up against the wall. “We’re going to get you, you little faggot,” hissed Devon as he shoved my shoulder painfully into the wall.

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I struggled against them, but they had me pinned. Devon laughed at me, but they soon released me. “See you later, queer boy,” said Devon as he departed. Devon scared me more than I wanted to admit. The little incident in the hallway was humiliating, but wasn’t all that bad really. It frightened me, though, because I feared what Devon and his buddies might do to me if they ever got me alone. My day was filled with a series of disagreeable events, none of them earth shattering alone, but they just kept coming and coming. Someone had taken it upon himself to write “pillow biter” on my locker in permanent marker. In one of the restrooms someone wrote, “Professional cocksucker, cheap rates,” then my name and phone number. I wondered if my parents had been getting any crank calls. Between classes, boys greeted me with “fag,” “fairy,” “homo,” “cocksucker,” and various other names. Some smiled as they said it as if they thought they were funny; others scowled, or looked like they’d love to kick my ass if they got the chance. A lot of guys got a kick out of coughing “faggot” or “homo,” thinking themselves so clever. I drew plenty of stares, too—well, more like glares from boys, but stares from girls. Some of the girls laughed at me; others looked on with pity. Every once in a while I heard one of them say something like, “I knew he was too pretty to be a boy,” a comment meant for others that reached my ears. It all began to wear me down, all those little blows to my self-esteem. The worst of it was that it was like that every single day. Stephanie looked daggers at me whenever our paths crossed, but that was understandable. I had lied to her, pretending to be interested in her when I was really only dating her as camouflage to hide my secret. Well, that wasn’t true. I did genuinely care for her, even now, but I’d used her, and I was ashamed of myself. When Mark and I were outed, it made Stephanie look like a fool. I never wanted it to happen, but she was humiliated. I was deeply sorry, but that didn’t help her much. I avoided her as often as possible, because the very sight of her made me feel guilty. Not everyone was down on me. There were a handful of guys like Brandon and Jon who stood by Mark and me. There were those like Ethan and Nathan who didn’t exactly stick up for us, but quietly showed their support by sitting with us at lunch and talking to us as if we weren’t freaks. More girls than guys were supportive. I’m not sure why, but guys seemed to be threatened by our homosexuality, as if it was something they could catch if they got too close. Maybe they feared they’d be called “fag” if they didn’t say it to us often enough. Who knows? A lot of girls smiled at me or said “hi.” Some of them went out of

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their way to be kind, which I truly appreciated. Some intervened when boys were giving me a rough time. More than once I’d seen a girl give her boyfriend a lecture for calling me “fag” or shouldering me as they passed. I had mixed feelings about girls sticking up for me. I appreciated the support, but it gave the guys more ammo to shoot in my direction. I was particularly sensitive to comments about others fighting my battles for me. I’d never been a fighter. Before being outed I’d never needed to fight. If Mark, Brandon, or Jon was around when someone gave me trouble, they jumped in and handled the situation. For a while that’d made me feel like a coward, but then Mark had given me some fighting lessons, and I’d actually fought off Jeremy once. It was a clumsy effort on my part, but I’d managed to nail him in the stomach, and he’d backed off that time at least. At lunch my eyes met Ethan’s for a moment, and I noticed his were bloodshot. He had to be on something, but it was so out of character for him. Ethan was a serious athlete, and I never would’ve thought he’d get involved with drugs. Some of the guys messed with steroids, but not pot and all the rest. I was an innocent when it came to drugs, but even I knew bloodshot eyes like that usually meant something. Nathan was eyeing Ethan nervously and when our eyes met he looked afraid. He’d obviously noticed something was up with Ethan, too. I’d already tried talking to Ethan about it and so had Brandon, but it had only made him angry. Mark walked me to work after school. He was grounded or, more accurately, under house arrest and was expected to go straight home and stay there until it was time to leave for school the next day. I was glad Mark bent the rules a little by walking me to work, because Devon and his crew kept stalking us. They didn’t say anything, but they drove by a few times as we were walking and glared at us. If I’d been alone, they would’ve probably jumped me. The circling predators made me edgy and ruined what could have otherwise been an enjoyable walk. Why couldn’t people just leave us alone? I wondered how many times I’d asked myself that each day. “I don’t think you should walk home alone,” I said when we’d arrived at our destination. “I’ll be fine, Taylor. I can make it home in less than five minutes from here.” “That’s plenty of time for those jerks to jump you.” “True enough, but I can’t walk around with a bodyguard all the time.” “I wish we both could.”

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“Yeah, but we can’t. I’ll go straight home, okay, Taylor? I’ll hurry, too. You do the same when you’re done here, okay? Or better yet, call Brandon or Jon and have them escort you home.” “Okay, Babe, but if those guys come after you, run.” “Like the wind. I love you, Tay.” “I love you, too.” Mark turned and walked away. True to his word he was moving fast. I watched him for a few seconds, then walked across the yard to the tool shed where my rake and gloves were waiting on me. I’d soon warmed up enough that I took off my leather jacket and draped it over the fence. It was cold out, but I was still almost too warm in my sweater. I raked the leaves onto a big sheet of plastic, then pulled them to the curb where they’d be picked up and taken away. Apparently, every fall the town picked up leaves and disposed of them free of charge. I’d read something about it in the Verona Citizen. Verona was cool like that; people looked out for each other here. It was just too bad their kindness didn’t extend to those who were different. It was actually rather pleasant to work, to make my own way in the world. Now that I had most of my belongings in Graymoor, I didn’t have to worry about having enough clothes. I’d have to go to the Laundromat eventually, but luckily I had lots of socks and boxers and plenty of shirts, too. I only had three pairs of jeans, but they didn’t need washing all that often. I let my mind drift off into pleasant memories as I worked. It was quiet and peaceful: just me and the leaves. I wouldn’t want to make raking leaves my life’s work, but it was enjoyable enough for a time. Hopefully, I could make enough to get by. Lunch at school wasn’t expensive, and neither were the soup, oatmeal, et cetera that Marshall and I had been eating in Graymoor. It would be a long time before I could afford pizza or anything like that, but I was okay with waiting. Maybe someday things would be better. I knew I was very lucky to have a roof over my head, even if there was no heat. I was luckier still to have Mark and friends who cared about me. If I got down to where I had nothing, they wouldn’t let me starve. I stiffened as I saw a red pickup slowly drive by. Jeremy was driving, and I caught a shock of blond hair beside him that I was pretty sure was Devon. I pretended to take no notice of them, but my heart pounded in my chest. I knew they were up to no good. Maybe they were just trying to scare me, but maybe they had something worse in mind. I thought of what had happened to Mark in the locker room and trembled.

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I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and tried to lose myself in pleasant memories again, but this time I failed. Fear kept my mind on the unpleasantness of my life. I decided to take a few precautions. I’d cut off raking leaves a little earlier than usual, just to make sure I was home well before dark. I’d take Mark’s advice and give Brandon or Jon a call, too. I didn’t like to do that, but I also didn’t relish the thought of a beating. It was better to be safe than sorry. Devon knew where I was working, and I didn’t like him knowing one bit. Of course, three or four more days of raking would finish up the job and I’d have to look for employment elsewhere. The yard was huge, but not so vast that it would take weeks to clear of leaves. I kept raking, but what joy there was in it had been sucked out. It was the story of my life. Every time I found a little bit of happiness, someone came and took it away from me. It all started after we were outed. So many people just couldn’t handle the fact that Mark and I were different. It was like they just couldn’t wait to stick their noses in our business. I wished I could just go home, go to sleep, and put this day behind me. Better yet, I wished I could go home and fall into Mark’s arms. When he held me, I could feel his love for me as if it was an electric current. I could feel it at a distance, too, just not so strongly. I didn’t know what I’d do without Mark in my life. That was my greatest fear—that he’d be taken from me. I couldn’t go it alone. I guess I wouldn’t be in the fix I was in now if I’d never met Mark, but then I would’ve missed out on all we’d shared, and that was beyond price. Sooner or later I would have been found out, though. Maybe not this year or even the next, but at some time, and when it happened it would’ve been just as bad. If I was never found out, it would’ve probably been because I had never found love. What a sorry life that would have been. Sure, I would have been safer, but to live my whole life alone without anyone ever telling me he loved me? That would be worse than anything else. I worked another hour, my thoughts disturbed, fear and sadness permeating my being. The truck didn’t drive by again, but my mind was not at ease. I put the rake and gloves back in the shed and slipped on my jacket. I was heated up at the moment, but I knew I’d cool quickly now that I was no longer exerting myself. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I’d feared that. I’d seen no sign of my employer while I’d been working. I wasn’t worried about getting paid. When she got home she’d see the work I’d done. Her absence meant I couldn’t call Brandon or Jon, though. I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood, so I couldn’t ask to use a phone. Mark lived the closest, but I sure couldn’t drop by

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his house. If things were different, if his family was accepting, then maybe I could have even lived with him, but things weren’t different, and I wasn’t welcome in the home of my boyfriend. I walked out of the yard and quickly made my way down the sidewalk. Since I couldn’t get an escort, I thought it best to just get home as fast as I could. A sense of nervousness flowed through my body, and my breath came more quickly than normal. I felt fear not unlike that I’d experienced in dreams when I was waiting for a monster to pounce and tear me to pieces.

ETHAN—NOVEMBER 1980 After wrestling practice I went to my locker once again. There, lying on the bottom of the locker was yet another note. I unfolded it with the same apprehension I felt every time I found a note in my locker. It was almost as if the note itself could hurt me. Perhaps this one was nothing more than another demand for a report. Maybe it was another offer to put off my fate for just a little bit longer. As I read the words on the latest note, however, the message was different from all the rest:

Look behind you. I knew someone was there. I could feel him. I didn’t want to turn around. When I did, I knew my nightmare would become real. I fought to slow my racing heart. I swallowed and slowly turned. “Zac?” I asked, incredulously, my mouth gaping open in surprise. I simply couldn’t believe it. “Surprised, aren’t you, faggot?” “But…” “Expecting someone else, were you?” Zac laughed. “It was a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself, making you think the guys who got Mark were after you, too.” “Then it wasn’t…” “It’s been just me all along, Ethan.” Zac grinned. I wanted to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face. “But why?” I asked. “Why have you done this to me? I’ve never hurt you. Is all this just because you think I’m gay?” “I don’t think you’re gay, Ethan. I know it, but that has nothing to do with what’s between us. You fags really have a chip on your shoulder, don’t you? - 115 -

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Everything has to be about your sexual orientation. Everything that goes wrong does so because you’re gay. Everyone who doesn’t like you feels that way because you’re queer. What the fuck do I care if you’re gay? Big fucking deal! I don’t care what you do in your spare time, faggot.” “If you don’t care that I’m gay, then why do you call me faggot?” “Because you are one, because I can, because you don’t like it, and because you can’t do shit about it.” I just looked at him. I hated guys like him. I hated those who took advantage of others just because they could. “I don’t give a shit if you’re a faggot or not,” said Zac. “You care, however. You don’t want anyone to know. You’ve already proven you’ll do just about anything to keep me quiet. That scene with Taylor was a riot. I had to fight to keep from laughing my ass off, and, believe me, I would’ve been laughing at you, not with you.” I opened my mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. “I let you think the guys who worked over Mark were sending you the notes so you’d think good and hard about what things would be like if your secret got out.” “Do you know who beat Mark?” “No, but I’ve got a good idea. I’d bet my balls Devon was involved, but no one seems to know anything for sure. It hardly matters. If word gets out you’re queer, you’re finished. They’ll come after you just as they did Mark, and I’ll be more than willing to help.” Zac was scaring me. My heart was racing, and I was practically trembling. Zac drew closer and took my chin in his hand. I involuntarily shrank back from him. His touch repulsed me. I was so afraid that my breath was coming hard and fast. Zac smiled, and it wasn’t a friendly smile at all. He knew he had me by the balls, and he was enjoying every second of it. “I just want one thing from you, Ethan—well, actually, two.” He paused for several agonizing moments as he glared into my eyes. “I want you to lose when we wrestle. You do that, and I’ll forget everything I know about you—everything.” The revelation hit me like a brick upside the head. I felt like I must have been blind not to see it coming. What could Zac have possibly wanted from me more than that? It was absurdly simple, like a riddle solved. He wanted to win, and he knew he couldn’t take me. I’d never considered that. Of course, he’d had me thinking the notes were sent by Devon and his crew, so why would I have suspected him? Part of it still didn’t make sense, however. One thing didn’t fit.

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“You’ve been sending me these notes for weeks. It couldn’t have all been for just this. You couldn’t have known we’d be tied at the end of the season.” “Wrong, Ethan. I knew you’d be undefeated at the end. I’ve watched you. I’ve wrestled you. I was confident I’d make it, too. There’s only one guy who could beat me, and that’s you. And besides, if we weren’t tied at the end, I knew I’d be able to come up with something I wanted from you. You’re so confident, so fucking superior. I wanted to break you. I wanted to show you I could control you, that I could make you my little bitch. Even if you weren’t an obstacle at the end, I’d get something out of it. Besides, it has been a hell of a lot of fun watching you squirm.” “So this is how you want to win?” I said. It was my attempt at psychological warfare. It didn’t faze Zac one bit. “How I win doesn’t matter, Ethan, just so I do. No one else will know about this except you and me.” “And if I refuse?” “I’ll tell everyone what I know. I’ll tell everyone how you lust after Jon. I’ll tell everyone about the time you groped me in the locker room, how you tried to rape me.” “I never did that! I’ve never touched you!” “You know that. I know that. But no one else knows it. I can prove you’re gay Ethan. After that, most people will believe just about anything. That won’t be the end of it either, Ethan.” Zac paused and grinned at me evilly. It sent a chill up my spine. “The guys who fucked up Mark will come after you. You’ll get the same as he did, and if I have anything to say in the matter, you’ll get worse. If you don’t give me what I want, I promise you’ll soon be a dead faggot.” I wanted to kill Zac where he stood. I actually took a step toward him. I was enraged. “Bad idea, Ethan,” said Zac. I halted. Zac made my blood run cold. It seemed beyond belief that anyone could be so evil, yet I knew he wasn’t bluffing, at least not about exposing me and making up lies. “And how do I know the same thing won’t happen if I let you win?” I asked. “You don’t, but then you really don’t have a choice now do you? Besides, I’m more than willing to keep my end of the bargain. I want this, I want it bad, and I’m willing to keep quiet about everything if I get it.” Zac seemed sincere. I had the feeling I could trust him to keep his part of the bargain. I was still wondering a lot about whether or not he’d really have the balls

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to kill me if I defied him. A death threat was certainly the kind of thing that tended to stick in one’s mind. As if on cue, Zac closed in on me. He stared directly into my eyes with a look that could kill. “You let me win and I forget about everything. If I lose—you die unpleasantly. Don’t think I won’t do it, fucker. I want this. I want to win bad, and no one will miss a little faggot like you. I’ll fucking destroy you.” He shoved me hard against the locker, and my head smacked against the metal. “Now, as for the other thing I want from you. Get on your knees, faggot.” “What?” “You heard me.” “Zac…” “Do it!” “Zac, come on, give me some time to think. I need…” “Time’s up, faggot. Now get on your knees. You get on your knees right now and do what I tell you to do, then throw the match, or I’ll tell everyone you’re a cock-sucker.” “But I can’t…” “Do it!” Zac belted me in the gut. I doubled over. I nearly launched myself at him, but managed to hold myself back. “Yeah, that’s right, fag! You know better, don’t you? Now get on your knees like a good fag.” I slowly sank to my knees. I’d never felt so humiliated in all my life. Zac unfastened his belt buckle. My mind raced for a way out. I thought of something Mark had told me. “Only a fag would want another guy to blow him,” I said. Zac smacked me hard in the face. “Wrong, faggot. Only a fag would blow another guy. That’s what fags are made for.” Zac wasn’t as easy to manipulate as Devon. Zac pulled down his zipper, pushed down his boxers, and pulled it out. “Someone might see,” I said, making a last-ditch effort to persuade Zac to back off. “Then they’ll see you doing what you do best, won’t they faggot? The sooner you start, the sooner it will be over, and the less chance you’ll have of getting caught.”

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Zac grabbed me by the back of the head and forced me to go down on him. I couldn’t believe it was happening. It seemed so unreal—like a dream, like a nightmare. I was humiliated. Zac used me. He cared nothing about me. He made me into an object. All he cared about was his own selfish pleasure. I did what he told me to do while he called me a cocksucker. I guess it was true, since that’s exactly what I was doing. I tried to think of other things as I did it, but I couldn’t tear my mind away from what was happening to me. I tried to pull away when he began to moan, but he held my head in place. He didn’t release me until he’d finished. It was all over in minutes, but I felt as if I’d been kneeling there a lifetime. Zac zipped up and walked off laughing. I stood up, shaking, my knees aching. I ran to the nearest drinking fountain, spit, then washed out my mouth, but the taste was still there, a reminder of my humiliation. I pushed my hand into my pocket. I couldn’t open the bottle of pills fast enough. I climbed into the truck, mortified over what had just happened. Zac had totally humiliated me. No one knew what had just transpired except for the two of us, but that was enough. There was something worse than the humiliation, though, something Zac didn’t even know about. He’d taken something away from me I’d never get back. I’d never been with a guy before: I was a virgin before Zac made me blow him. He’d ruined my first time. Instead of a wonderful, exciting experience, it was something mean, base, and vulgar. I thought of how I’d dreamed of making love with Jon, how beautiful it could have been. I’d dreamed of it as far more than mere sex. My dream of Jon would never come true, of course, but the dream could’ve come true with another, but now Zac had ruined it for me. He’d stolen my first time. I felt as if I was about to cry, yet I shed no tears. The pills were kicking in, but they didn’t help so much anymore. They dulled the pain, but I couldn’t really escape from my life. There was no escape for me, not anymore. Zac preyed upon my mind as I performed my evening chores. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. After all the shit Zac had pulled, after all he’d done to me, I wanted to win my match against him more than ever. He didn’t deserve to win, that was for sure. No one like that deserved to come out on top. I still had all my old reasons to win as well. Wrestling meant the world to me, and I had a chance to be the best—just once. Such a victory had a terrible price tag, however. If I defeated Zac, he would expose me without a doubt. My life would become a living hell. I wasn’t ashamed of what I was, but I wasn’t ready for my friends and teammates to know about

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me. I was caught between what I wanted most and what I feared the most. I was confused and afraid. Zac was clever. He’d turned my life into a hellish nightmare, then turned on the light to show me there were no monsters stalking me in the dark. He had it within his power to summon them, however, and make my nightmares come true. All he had to do was tell Devon about me and I’d be right back where I thought I was before. I didn’t want to go back. I’d do anything to keep from going back. Zac knew it. He knew he could control me completely. Did I really have any choice at all? I fed Wuffa and Fairfax and made sure their water trough was full. They whinnied their appreciation. I thought back to the day I’d taught Jon to ride. It seemed so very long ago. The mere thought of Jon was like a dagger in my heart. He didn’t love me. We were no longer friends. Was I destined to lose all that I loved? I walked out to work on the fencerow. Nathan stiffened as I neared. He made some polite conversation, but it wasn’t like it used to be. He was afraid of me. I could see it in his eyes. He acted as if I was some kind of unpredictable madman or some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Even though he worked by my side, I felt as if I was alone. Perhaps that was my destiny, to be alone. Zac had taken away my self respect. He’d taken away Jon, and now he was taking Nathan away from me, too. Would Brandon, Mark, and Taylor soon follow? I felt as if everything and everyone who meant anything to me were slipping away and all because of Zac. I loathed him with every ounce of my being. I popped another pill. I didn’t bother to hide it from Nathan. He already knew, and I couldn’t have cared less. Maybe his fear of me would serve one purpose at least. Maybe it would keep him from badgering me. My life was mine to live, and I was more than tired of others sticking their noses into it. The wind was chilly. Sweat dampened my shirt as I worked, and I began to shiver a bit. The true chill came from my own heart. It was all slipping away from me. Zac held my fate in his hands. I was doomed.

SKYE—FALL 1997 I was walking to my car after football practice when I heard a scream out beyond the parking lot. I ran out onto the soccer field and found Ben Tyler holding Landon, our towel boy, with his arms pinned behind his back. Greg was in front, punching Landon in the stomach. “Help me!” cried Landon when he saw me. “He’s not gonna help you, faggot,” said Ben, loosening his grip for a moment to smack Landon in the head. “Yeah, queer,” said Greg. “You think Skye appreciates you drooling over his dick anymore than we do? Huh?” Greg punched him in the stomach again. Ben pushed Landon down. “Come on, fucker, get up; defend yourself.” Landon just lay there. “You guys are too big. You know I can’t beat you.” “That’s right, faggot,” said Ben, kicking him in the ribs. “You’re just a useless little faggot.” “Help me!” cried Landon again. His eyes pleaded with me. A small trickle of blood was running from the corner of his mouth. If the guys were just beating up Landon because they were pissed off at him or something, I could’ve stopped them with a word. That was the power of the Alpha male, and with Jimmy safely under control, I was it. Landon was a queer, though, and everyone knew it. I couldn’t defend him. “Landon, being a fag is your business, but you’re a dumb fuck, you know that?” I said. “You check us all out while you’re handing out towels. What did you think was going to happen? I’m surprised you haven’t had your ass kicked before this.” “I’ll tell the coach they did this to me,” said Landon, “and I’ll tell him you didn’t help me, Skye.” “Don’t threaten me, you little fag! You tell Coach and I’ll fuck you up myself. Besides, you think Coach Gil would do anything to me for not standing up for a - 121 -

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worthless little faggot, do you? Maybe I should go back in and tell Coach you’re a fag. He’d kick your ass out in a flash.” Ben and Greg smiled. “Now, just take what you’ve got coming to you like a man, little fag, and maybe the boys will go easy on you. It looks to me like they’re almost finished. If I was you, I’d keep my eyes to myself from now on, unless you get off on a good beating.” I went on my way, leaving Ben and Greg to their fun. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: I should have stood up for Landon, because he’s one of my own, right? Well, as far as I’m concerned he created his own problems. If he couldn’t keep his eyes to himself, he would just have to pay the price. Besides, if I went around sticking up for queers, I’d lose everything I had real fast and probably end up like that Oliver kid. Rumor had it Jimmy was involved with that, but I guess no one would ever know the truth. My only concern was to keep it from happening to me. I went straight to work and found Josh there. He didn’t look as if he’d been ill to me. He was positively glowing. “Hi, faker,” I said upon entering. “Hey, I had a headache this morning.” “Yeah, you really look like you’re in pain. You look more like you just got laid.” Josh seemed slightly uncomfortable for a moment. “I said I had a headache this morning, Skye. That was hours ago.” “Well I’m glad you showed up for work, otherwise I might have had to skip a workout.” “Poor baby, your life is hell.” “Yeah, but I somehow manage to struggle along…” I said. Josh rolled his eyes. “I told the guys what I did to you last night, the thing with Mrs. Leander.” “Gee, thanks.” “It was just a joke. Anyway, I think Ben and her really do have something going. You should have seen his face when the guys were kidding him about it.” “Wow, Ben and Mrs. Leander. I’d like to see that.” “You perv.” “I mean I want to see her naked!” “More like you want to see Ben in action, you homo.” “Shut up! You know what I mean!” I laughed. I loved tugging Josh’s chain.

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The usual after-school crowd was in. The sound of clanking weight plates and the whir of exercise bikes and treadmills filled the air. I looked around at the buff boys working out and felt a stirring in my jeans at the sight of flexing biceps and pecs. This was the perfect job for a gay boy like me—heaven on earth. Greg came in about half past eight and hit the machines. He was as dedicated to working out as I was. Someone who braved the risks of steroids had to be. I wondered how he could afford them. I’d heard they were expensive. That was another reason to avoid them. I needed a new car, and I wasn’t about to waste valuable funds on something stupid. Besides, I wanted to know that I and I alone was responsible for my bod. Every time I looked in the mirror and flexed I knew it was all me. If I did steroids, I’d have to share the limelight, and Skye isn’t big on sharing. Greg liked to work out shirtless. Most of us built guys did. Wearing a shirt was wiser, as it kept the muscles warm, but it just didn’t seem right to be all buff and cover up the bod I’d carved out with such great effort. Greg probably felt the same way, even though he’d cheated with steroids. He might’ve taken a shortcut, but Greg still looked fine. His pecs were nicely shaped, with a fine undercut, and his abs had great definition. He had beautifully muscled arms as well. I wished I had some way of telling if guys like Greg were hetero, bi, or gay. I could imagine some damn hot times with a guy like Greg. I grinned. I was going to thoroughly enjoy my time with Jimmy and Greg after closing. Jimmy didn’t come in until nearly ten. He looked anxious and fearful, as did Greg by that time. I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my own stomach. I had everything set up, but now that it was coming down to it, I feared something might go wrong. What I was about to do to them would change everything and raise the stakes considerably. I reminded myself it was necessary, however. Jimmy and Greg were probably wise enough to cut off the steroids. Once they did so, it was just a matter of time before all traces of them left their systems. Once that happened, I’d have nothing on them. It would be my word against theirs. I had to keep that from happening. Besides, there was a definite edge of excitement to what was about to go down. I locked up the doors at ten, left my prey alone for a moment, then returned and escorted them into the locker room. They looked about nervously. Greg swallowed hard. “So, what are we doing here? What do you want?” asked Jimmy. “Stand here,” I said, pointing to a spot on one side of the locker room. They followed my directions. “Now, take off your clothes,” I ordered.

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“What?” asked Jimmy with an edge of incredulity to his voice. “You heard me; do it now, all of them.” Jimmy pulled off his shirt, revealing his magnificent, steroid-induced torso. Greg followed suit. I feigned boredom as they stripped. There was no need for them to know how much I was enjoying the show. Rather, it was critical to keep them from discovering just how intensely it excited me to watch them peel off their clothes. Greg was hot and Jimmy hotter. I’d wanted Jimmy since I was old enough to have pubes. Most of my fantasies revolved around him. I had to use all my self control to keep my arousal from becoming obvious. Once naked, I let them just stand there for a moment. They looked vulnerable and ill at ease as they never had in the locker room at school. When you’re built, appearing in public naked, at least within the confines of a locker room, holds no terror. Instead, it’s a chance to show the world what you’ve got. This situation was totally different. Jimmy and Greg’s eyes betrayed the edge of terror that coursed through their bodies. “Now,” I said, “kiss each other.” Their heads jerked toward me in unison. “What?” asked Jimmy loudly. “No fucking way am I kissing a guy. What are you, some kind of fag?” I took two quick steps toward him and belted him in the mouth. For a moment, he tensed, ready to hurl himself at me, but then he remembered who was in control. “If you ever call me a faggot again, I’ll beat you senseless,” I said, putting as much menace as possible into my voice, and, believe me, I’m capable of a shit load of menace. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Jimmy quickly, attempting to placate me. “It’s just that…Kiss him?” “Do it!” I ordered. Jimmy and Greg looked at each other, awkwardly drew together and kissed quickly on the lips. “Okay, now do it right. Kiss each other as you would a girl—or a boy if one of you is a homo.” They drew together again, wrapped their arms around each other, and kissed deeply and passionately. When they drew apart they were both partly aroused. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” I said, gazing down at their stuff. They both turned a bit rosy. I had little doubt they were both heteros, but making out tended to get teenaged boys excited. I’d popped some massive boners while making out with girls, and I was most certainly gay. I reveled in Jimmy’s

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and Greg’s sudden discomfort. I knew they were experiencing just the tiniest doubt about their sexual orientation. It was just what they deserved. “Okay, enough of that, you guys are enjoying it too much.” Jimmy and Greg each shot me a look of anger, which I ignored. I was in control, and what they thought of the situation was irrelevant. “Now, each of you are going to blow the other. You both look like you could use some relief. Who wants to go first?” “What?” said Jimmy. “No way! That is totally gay! I’m not doing it.” “You don’t have a choice,” I said, “or rather I should say your only choice is who goes first.” “No,” said Jimmy crossing his arms. I knew this moment would come. I also knew I’d walk away the victor. “As you wish. Do you feel the same, Greg?” “You’re fucking right I do!” he answered, hotly. “Okay,” I said, pulling out my cell phone. “This will just take a minute.” “What…what are you doing?” asked Jimmy. “I’m calling Coach,” I said as I began to punch in the numbers. “But…” “I told you how things were. You’ve chosen to defy me, so it’s time to end this. I’m turning you in.” “No wait!” said Jimmy. “I’ll do it! I’ll fucking do it!” “How about you?” I asked Greg. He nodded. I turned off my phone and put it away. “Who’s going first?” I asked. “Me,” said Jimmy, “I want to get this over with.” “So do it,” I said roughly. Jimmy stepped up to Greg and got down on his knees in front of him. I almost couldn’t believe it when he really did as he was told. My heart beat faster, and my breath quickened. I actually had to look away part of the time to keep from becoming too excited. “Keep going until he finishes,” I told Jimmy. “You don’t have to swallow.” Jimmy nodded, without removing his lips. I stood there and watched the hottest scene I’d ever witnessed in my life. After Greg moaned and his entire body shuddered with release, Jimmy stood and Greg took his place. Jimmy’s level of excitement was obvious. I knew it would fuck with his mind. Greg got to work quickly; no doubt he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. Luckily for Greg, Jimmy didn’t take nearly as long

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to lose control. His loud moan soon filled the locker room. I watched as his entire body tensed and flexed. Greg dashed to his feet the second Jimmy was done. They both looked properly humbled. “You can both get dressed now,” I said. I walked over to a locker with a door that was slightly ajar, opened it, and pulled out my video camera. “What…what is that?” asked Greg fearfully. “Insurance. I have it all on tape.” “Dude,” said Jimmy. “That is so not cool!” “What are you going to do with the tape?” asked Greg fearfully. “If you two continue to do as I say, nothing at all.” I let the implication hang in the air. “I told you I’m always one step ahead of you. My guess is that having failed to intimidate me, you’ve both ceased using steroids. Your plan is to clear them out of your systems, then turn on me.” I held the tape up. “I have this now, so even if threats of turning you in won’t keep you in line, this will. I’m sure neither of you would want your friends and family to get a look at what you just did.” If looks could kill, I would’ve been dead, but they both wisely remained silent. “You can leave now, Greg. Jimmy, you stay here. We have some things to discuss.” I escorted Greg from the locker room and let him out the front door, relocking it once he was outside. I returned to Jimmy. He was seething with anger, but I knew I was safe. If he could have gotten away with it, I’m sure he would have jumped me in an attempt to get the tape. He knew I had the goods on him even without the tape, however, and that I’d protected myself. If I hadn’t taken steps to ensure my safety he might well have killed me to silence me forever, but if I turned up dead or went missing, his steroid use would be immediately revealed. I had him cornered, and he knew it. “This part is just between you and me,” I said. “We’ll call it a demonstration of your submission. Get on your knees.” “What are…” “You’re going to do for me what you just did for Greg. I could use a little relief, and I want to make sure you know who’s boss.” “Skye, please…” “Don’t beg, just do it!” I grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders and pushed him to his knees. I pulled out my stuff, and Jimmy got to work. He had no choice, and we both knew it. It was

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my first sex with another guy. More than a few girls had done what Jimmy was doing for me, but this…this was a first. I wasn’t excited at the beginning. I’d willed myself to calm down so Jimmy would have no clue as to how much I wanted what was happening or how much I’d fantasized about it. Jimmy thought it was nothing but a show of dominance, and only I knew it was much, much more. When I got close I grabbed his head and wouldn’t let him pull away. I made him take it. It was the most intense feeling I’d ever experienced in my life. It wasn’t just the orgasm; it was the sense of power and control. I knew I could grow to like it. The fringe benefits of controlling Jimmy were many and rewarding. Jimmy looked completely humiliated as he climbed to his feet and dressed. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Jimmy followed me as I shut off the lights. I led him outside, then locked the door. “See you at school tomorrow,” I said holding the tape so he could see it. “Yeah, see ya.” We went our separate ways. I’d feigned disinterest when Jimmy and Greg were following my orders, but the tape in my hands was my greatest treasure and not just because it would allow me to control Jimmy and Greg. I’d dreamed about watching a couple of my teammates get it on, and now I could do so again and again. I’d have to make copies or I’d probably wear the tape out before the end of the week. Before I made my copies, I’d edit it to erase any hint of my presence and of reluctance on their part. When I was done editing, it would look as if Jimmy and Greg went at it of their own free will. I felt a heady rush of power as I slipped the tape into my jacket and walked home. I was late, but Mom didn’t say anything when I walked through the door. I sometimes had to stay late to clean up, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for me to get home a bit after eleven. Mom was sitting and watching TV. I felt kind of sorry for her. She didn’t have much of a life and never went out. She worked at the library, but that could hardly be considered going out. My dad had run out on us two years before. He found himself an eighteen-year-old girl, if you can believe it! She was younger than my sister! It was a real blow to Mom’s ego. I wished she would start dating someone, but apparently she couldn’t find anyone of interest. “Hello, Skye, have a good day?” asked my mom as I walked into the living room. I was a bit shocked to hear the cheerful tone of her voice, but I was pleased to see her happy.

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“The best!” It had been a damned good day, especially near the end. “I think I should turn in,” said Mom. “You know you don’t have to wait up on me,” I said. “I’m a big boy.” “You’ll always be my little boy,” she said, getting up and hugging me. I hugged her back. “Mom,” I said. She was getting way too mushy again. “Have a good night, Skye. I love you.” “I love you, too, Mom. Good night.” Mom shut off the TV and the living room lights as I made my way to the kitchen. I guzzled some milk from the carton, then went to my room. It was just Mom and me at home. My older sister, Janelle, got herself knocked up not long after Dad left. Her timing couldn’t have been worse. She had a big fight with Mom and took off. I had a nephew, but I’d never seen him. We didn’t even know where Janelle was for a month, but then she called. She wouldn’t talk to Mom, but she told me she was living in California. Janelle and I had always gotten along pretty well. That’s probably what kept her from completely disappearing. She’d call once a month or so, always speaking to me instead of Mom. That was fine with Mom for several months, but Mom began to soften. About six months ago, I became Skye the diplomat when Mom asked me to see if Janelle would talk to her. Once they started talking again. pretty much all was forgiven. Janelle was even supposed to come home for Christmas. I hoped it would happen. I’d missed her. I took the tape out of my jacket and carefully hid it in my secret place, under a loose floorboard near my bed. I was dying to have a look, but it was late and I had homework. I’d done most of my homework at the gym, so I finished up in about half an hour, then climbed into bed. I was completely relaxed. I always felt that way after sex, and tonight one of my fantasies had come true—two of them actually: first, watching Jimmy and Greg together, then watching Jimmy on his knees in front of me. He wasn’t half bad for someone who’d obviously never done it before. Jimmy didn’t know it yet, but he was going to get plenty of practice.

TAYLOR—NOVEMBER 1980 The evening was stark and colorless. I yearned for the bright leaves of autumn or the green of spring and summer. Even the snows of winter would’ve been welcome, but I was caught in a between-time—no longer fall, not yet winter, and far from the summer sun. The season echoed my life. At the moment, I was in a dark and dreary mood, punctuated by rising fear. Before I’d gone two blocks I heard a truck coming up from behind, pacing me. Only it wasn’t pacing me, it drove on by. I was letting my fear get the best of me, but I couldn’t help it. I concentrated on walking as quickly as I could for home. I considered running for it, but I knew sheer terror would overwhelm me if I did, just as in my nightmares. I sometimes dreamed that someone or something was after me. In my dreams I had a nearly uncontrollable urge to bolt, but I knew that if I did so whatever pursued me would catch me for sure. The terror was in the running. I trembled at the approach of every vehicle and had to fight to keep myself from constantly looking over my shoulder. I was trembling. I wished Mark was with me. I wished, too, that I’d been able to call Jon or Brandon for a ride. I was on my own, though, and the best I could do was walk as quickly as possible toward Graymoor. You can’t let them get to you like this, Taylor, I thought to myself. If you let them instill this kind of fear into your heart, they’ve already won. I walked on in a waking nightmare, struggling to rein in my fear. I wasn’t having much luck. Fear is like that; it doesn’t have to be rational to be real. I remembered a cousin of mine from childhood who was so terrified of crowds she couldn’t go out in public without having a panic attack. I thought that was ridiculous until I saw her have one of her attacks. Her fear of crowds wasn’t rational, maybe, but it was real to her, and that’s all that mattered.

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I heard another truck coming up behind me. My heart clutched in fear. The truck accelerated quickly, and I thought for a moment I was about to be run down, but it shot past me and slammed to a halt. My heart froze. It was my nightmare come true. The truck doors flew open, and the occupants hit the pavement. Two more boys jumped out of the back. I bolted, but they were on me before I could make it ten feet. One of them tackled me around the legs, and I went down hard. I was jerked from the ground and pulled toward the truck. I fought but there was a guy on each of my arms. I screamed but there was no one to hear my cries for help. The tailgate went down. Someone grabbed my feet, and I was dumped into the back of the truck, quickly covered with a blanket, and held down. I could feel the truck take off. I calmed down after a few moments. Struggle was useless. Even if I’d managed to fight my way up off the bed of the truck, there was nowhere to go. I could hardly jump from a speeding truck. Each bump sent pain through my back and head as I bounced on the hard truck bed. I didn’t know if I was relieved or not when the ride ended. The cover was pulled off, and I was jerked to my feet, one strong boy on each arm again. I was pulled struggling from the truck. I kept thrashing about, trying to free myself until a couple of quick punches to the gut from Rob doubled me over and took the fight out of me. I looked around and didn’t know where I was. All I knew is that I was in serious trouble. We were outside of town somewhere in an isolated spot. They’d driven back an old dirt road, and we were nearly surrounded by trees. “I told you we’d get you, faggot,” said Devon, his eyes full of glee. “Why do you hate me so much?” I asked him. “When did I ever do anything to you? Mark and I were your friends and still would be if you hadn’t turned on us.” “You have to ask me that question, fag? You’re a homo, what more reason could I need?” I looked him in the eyes, trying not to show my fear, but I knew he could see it. It overwhelmed me. “Aren’t you going to beg, fag? Aren’t you going to beg us not to hurt you?” I slowly shook my head. “Mark begged. He begged like a little bitch.” “Liar!” Devon slugged me in the face and my head swam with pain. He grabbed my hair and pulled it back painfully.

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“You’ll beg before the end, pretty boy. You’ll beg us to kill you just to stop the pain, and if you’re lucky, maybe we will.” Devon yanked my hair hard and released it. He grinned at me. How could anyone derive such pleasure from being so sadistic? Devon jammed his fist into my abs, and I doubled over. Rob slugged me in the face, and my head snapped back. I struggled and thought I’d broken free for a moment, but Alex and Jeremy had released me to join in. I punched and kicked, occasionally hearing a loud “ompf” of pain, but I was outnumbered four to one and was doomed from the beginning. They beat the shit out of me, and soon I could do little more than attempt to fend off the blows. Someone kicked me hard in the nuts, and I screamed in pain. I lay there, struggling to breathe, crying. They’d stopped for the moment. I was thankful for that small mercy. I could feel blood running from the corner of my mouth. Devon grabbed my hair and pulled me to my knees. “Having fun yet, faggot?” I couldn’t even answer. I could barely breathe. I fought to catch my breath. “Hey guys, look, he’s on his knees. The little fag has assumed the position. He’s ready for us.” I shook my head as Devon unzipped his jeans and pulled down his boxers. I tried to get away, but Rob and Alex grabbed me and held me in place. “And now we’ll see what a good little cocksucker you are, Taylor.” Devon tried to force himself into my mouth, but I clamped it shut and turned my head. He slugged me, but I still wouldn’t open up. “Do it, faggot! Suck it or we’ll fucking beat you some more!” “You will, anyway,” I said and quickly snapped my mouth shut again. Devon slugged me. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” said Devon. He nodded and Jeremy clamped my nose shut with his fingers. I couldn’t breathe. I fought like mad and fell to my side in the struggle. “One way or another, you’re going to blow us, faggot. You’re going to blow us all,” said Devon. “Quit pretending you don’t like it. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you? You sick little fuck!” I bet you jack off dreaming about something like this every night.” They grabbed me again. I fought against them, but it was no use. Devon closed in on me again. I knew Jeremy would hold my nose shut once more and I’d be forced to open my mouth. “You stick your dick in my mouth and I’ll fucking bite it off!” I said.

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Devon slugged me, grabbed me by the hair again, and pulled back painfully. “You bite me, you bite any of us, and we’ll cut your balls off. Got that, faggot?” Devon yelled in my face. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I swear I will. So help me God, I’ll bite your cock off if you stick it in my mouth.” Devon lunged at me in a rage, and the four of them beat me nearly senseless. I was in so much pain I wanted to die. “Change your mind yet, queer?” “No,” I croaked. “Then we’ll just have to try something else,” said Devon. Devon dropped on me and tore at my pants. I kicked and struggled but they had my jeans and boxers pulled down in seconds. They stripped me completely naked. I looked around wildly to see if I could spot a knife, fearful they were about to make good on their promise, but they pushed me face down on the ground. “There’s more than one way to use a fag,” said Devon as he lowered himself upon me. I struggled, but they held me down and forced my legs apart. “NOOOOOO!” I screamed, then the pain hit me, blinding. It was nothing like being with Mark, who was kind and gentle and more interested in my pleasure than his own. The mere thought of what Devon was doing to me was unbearable, worse than the pain, really. I fought like mad. Someone nailed me in the back with his fist as hard as he could. I screamed. “Mmm, almost like a girl,” grunted Devon in my ear as he used me for his sick pleasure. The others laughed. I cried out in pain. It was the most humiliating moment of my entire life. My head swam with torment, and my eyes lost their focus. Mercifully, my nightmare ended. I blacked out entirely. I didn’t know what happened after that, but when I awakened I was naked and alone in the darkness, freezing. I was surprised I wasn’t dead. I really didn’t think they’d let me live after what they’d done to me. I curled into a ball, crying and shivering, half fearful they weren’t gone, but just waiting their chance to go at me again. I strained my ears and could hear nothing but the sounds of the night. I pulled myself to a sitting position, trembling and numb with cold. Maybe they’d left me for dead. I didn’t feel far from it. I found I could stand. My chest hurt; my back hurt; my ass hurt. I found my clothing in the moonlight and got dressed. The cloth felt deliciously warm, but still I shivered. I felt like I’d never be warm again. I followed the dirt road out to

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a gravel one. I didn’t know where I was, but the lights of the town weren’t far away. I stumbled toward the light. I ran my hand across my chin. I wasn’t bleeding anymore. My muscles loosened up as I walked. I was sore and aching and had difficulty walking. I didn’t know how I looked, but I was sure I was in way better shape than Mark had been after his beating. A sob welled up in my throat and I cried. I couldn’t help it. What had just happened to me was too much. I let myself cry for a bit, then got myself under control. I reminded myself it was over, but I didn’t know if it would ever truly be over for me. The beating was bad enough, but I’d never be able to forget what they’d done to me. I guessed they’d all taken a turn. I didn’t know. I thanked God I’d blacked out. I’d received that one small mercy at least. I walked on, the darkness hiding me. I pulled my jacket close about me, trying to warm up. I didn’t know how I was going to face tomorrow. How could I look into the eyes of Devon and the others, knowing what they’d done to me? I felt dirty and nasty, but I was the victim. I hadn’t wanted this or asked for it. I’d fought it as hard as I could, but there were just too many of them. At least I hadn’t been a coward. I hadn’t begged for a mercy that would not come. What they’d gotten from me they’d taken. I’d given nothing to them of my own free will. How could I face Mark after this? How could he bear to look at me after he found out what they’d done to me? How would I ever be able to bear looking him in the eyes again? I was so ashamed. I just wanted to go home and sleep. I wanted to lie down on my bed and forget this nightmare. Yes, that’s what I needed the most now: sleep. I made it to Graymoor at last. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I ignored it. I climbed the steps and walked into my room. “Oh my God, Taylor? What happened to you? Where have you been?” asked Marshall. “Has Mark been here?” I asked. “No, he didn’t come tonight.” I was thankful for that. He would have been worried out of his mind if I’d failed to show up. “What happened?” “It’s a long, unpleasant story and I don’t want to go into it now. The short version is that I was jumped and got my ass kicked.” “Taylor, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

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“Let me sleep,” I said, as I pulled off my jacket and fell on the bed. I felt Marshall pulling quilts over me as I lost consciousness again.

ETHAN—NOVEMBER 1980 The next day at school, Zac grinned at me, then laughed in my face when I was I was unable to look him in the eyes. The memory of what he’d forced me to do was still fresh in my mind. He stood there, ridiculing me, knowing not only that he’d humiliated me, but that he could do so again and again. I was so infuriated I wanted to pounce on him and beat him senseless, but I didn’t dare. He had me by the balls and he knew it. I hated him and I was terrified of him. Zac could force me to do anything he wanted, and from the look in his wicked eyes I feared very much that that’s exactly what he had planned. As if to confirm my suspicions, he leaned over and whispered so that only I could hear, “You were real good last evening, Ethan; I could get used to that.” Zac walked away, still laughing at my expense. Oh, how I wished my hands weren’t tied. If I were free I could’ve happily beaten Zac to death. “What was that about?” asked Kim. I turned to look at her. I wondered what she’d think if Zac outed me. “Zac was just trying to be funny. He failed miserably, but he’s too stupid to realize it.” Kim pulled me into an embrace and kissed me. I saw Zac look back from a distance, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, the sight of Kim and me kissing sent him into fresh fits of laughter. I could feel myself redden. “You’ve been neglecting me,” said Kim. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. There’s so much work to do on the farm, and I have that match coming up with Zac.” “I’m sure you’ll beat him, baby. No one can take my boyfriend.” Kim ran her hand over my left bicep as she spoke. “Come on,” I said. “I’ll walk you to class.” I could swear everyone was staring at me as I walked through the halls. I felt as if every single one of them knew what Zac had forced me to do. It was ridiculous, - 135 -

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of course, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. It gave me the tiniest taste of what it would be like if they knew the truth about me. I couldn’t even begin to face that, and therein lay Zac’s power over me. The wrestling match with Zac was coming up fast. I had little time to consider my dilemma. I wanted to win so badly I could taste it, but I didn’t even want to think about the consequences of defying Zac.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I slammed the door to my room and threw myself on my bed. “Bad day?” asked Seth. “I broke up with Zoë.” “Really?” The surprised, excited, almost eager tone of Seth’s voice caused me to turn and look at him. He had the demeanor of a dog who’d just been invited for a long anticipated walk. “You broke up with her?” he asked incredulously. “You stupid fuck.” “You know, Seth, you have a nasty mouth for a fourteen-year-old.” “What were you thinking? You’ll never get another girl like her.” “That I can live without.” “Huh?” “I’m gay, remember?” I asked. Seth stared at me with such an expression of shock that I immediately realized my mistake. Of course, I wasn’t out to my brother if I was dating Zoë in this reality. Sure, he’d called me “fag” but that was merely an insult. Now you’ve stuck your foot in it, Sean. Seth began laughing. “Good one, you had me going for a second there! Like you could be queer after what I’ve seen!” I laughed, too, for a few moments, praying it would keep Seth from guessing that I’d actually told him the truth. “Remember that girl you were dating last year?” asked Seth. “Roxy? Well, I never told you this, but I spied on you two. I saw you doing it that time Mom and Dad were gone to Dad’s class reunion. Damn, you really pounded her!” I could not believe what I was hearing. “You what?” I practically yelled. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. So you and Zoë are finished, huh?” - 137 -

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“Thank you for your concern for my feelings.” “I’m sorry, big bro, it’s just that…well, I kind of have a thing for Zoë and…” “You’re fourteen. You can’t have a thing for anyone yet.” “Yeah, right! I happen to know you did it with a girl when you were thirteen, maybe before that, but I know you did when you were thirteen.” “More spying?” “Hey, I was curious. I learned all about sex from watching you.” “I can’t believe this!” I really couldn’t. Discovering that my little brother had spied on me while I was…doing that…was bad enough, but the real shocker was that I was apparently straight! There could no longer be any doubt. “Would it, like, piss you off if I asked Zoë out?” “I don’t care,” I said. “Whatever.” I was far too lost in my own thoughts to properly pay attention to what Seth was saying. Me? Straight? “Yes!” shouted Seth. He hopped on his bed and started jumping up and down. I lay there in a daze, remembering what it felt like when I discovered that not every boy was attracted to other boys. My life here was so different. I was forgetting one key fact, however. The Sean from this reality was straight, not me. I was still gay. There was no question of that. It did explain a lot of things, however. The Sean from this reality hadn’t led Zoë on to protect himself. They’d really been dating! There was one good thing about the situation. Since the other Sean really was straight, I was perfectly hidden. Apparently, I had quite a history with girls, at least according to Seth. I had no reason to doubt him. What motive could he have for lying? I possessed an advantage here I didn’t at home—sixteen years of being a straight boy. What better way could there be for a gay boy to hide? This Verona was a far more dangerous place for gays, so such camouflage was invaluable. It finally registered in my mind that Seth wanted to ask Zoë out. I sat up in bed and looked at him. He was still jumping up and down on his bed squealing like a little kid. “Seth! Seth!” “Yeah, bro?” “Sit down!” I said, pointing to his bed. “Bite my ass!” he said and laughed, wiggling it in my direction, but then sat down as I’d told him. “If you hurt Zoë, I will kick your ass.”

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“Hurt her? Are you crazy? I’m in love with her!” Seth threw his arms above his head and fell back on his bed, hugging himself, only to lift himself up and grin at me. “I couldn’t say this before, but it really pissed me off that you were dating Zoë. I wanted her and you had her. It didn’t seem fair!” “You were jealous of me?” “Yeah! You’d better write it down because I’ll probably never admit it again, but I was jealous. I kept hoping you’d break up, but it went on and on, and I was afraid you’d get married or something, but now the way is clear!” Seth jumped up, crossed the short space between us, and gave me a hug. He then began to dance on the floor. Granted, I’d only known my little brother for a few days, but he was acting totally out of character. He’d changed before my eyes from a rude little jerk into some kind of cheerful elf dancing upon the carpet. “Well, I don’t know how much of a chance you’ll have with her. You are my brother, and I’m not exactly flavor of the month right now.” Seth stopped dancing and smiling. “You better not have ruined this for me,” he warned. “Well excuse me for not living my life just for you,” I said. Seth giggled. “I will succeed. We were meant to be together!” He laughed and danced some more. “You are so weird,” I said. Luckily, Seth danced his way out of our room. I hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to run over to Zoë’s or call her or something. If he did so now, he was doomed to failure. I guess that was his problem, though, not mine. Had I really been dating Zoë, I would have been angered and upset by Seth’s display of euphoria over our breakup. He was being quite immature over the whole thing; then again he was a kid. As it was, the romantic relationship between Zoë and me had to go. It had obviously been real in the past, but things had changed dramatically. I would not lie to her and lead her on, even if it meant losing her. Unfortunately, it looked as if that was exactly what might happen. I wondered what my chances were of making Zoë believe the truth. From her point of view I must seem a complete jerk. I’d handled the situation badly. Honesty was obviously not the best policy when one came from another reality. I couldn’t even talk to anyone about my problems. My experience with Zoë was clear evidence of that. I wondered if I could lie down, close my eyes, then open them to find I was back where I belonged. This new world certainly had its advantages, but I longed

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for home. Having Marty back in my life was a dream come true, but was he really the same, was he really my Marty? I missed my friendship with Skye. I missed Oliver and my dad. I missed Ethan and Nathan and, most of all, Nick. I knew a lot of things could come between Nick and me, but this… I knew I couldn’t wish myself back, so I took a seat at the desk and started on my homework instead. If some miracle put me back where I belonged, great, but if it didn’t, I needed to have my homework done.

SKYE—FALL 1997 Greg was just getting out of his truck as I pulled into the school parking lot. I grabbed my backpack and fell into step beside him. He looked supremely uncomfortable. “If you don’t want anyone to suspect something’s up, you’d better snap out of it,” I said. “After last night?” he spat out. “Quit acting like you’re terrified of me and drop the hostility. Now!” “Yeah, well, I have good reason to be afraid, don’t I?” “You just do as you’re told and everything will be fine.” “Last night, man…” “That was a one-time thing, Greg, unless you piss me off. Call it a demonstration of my power.” “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look Jimmy in the face again.” Greg was having a good deal of trouble looking me in the eyes. He needed to get over it. “You’d better,” I warned. “You either act like nothing happened, or you will be doing it again. You want that?” “No!” “So knock off the crap, Greg.” “What…what else are you gonna make us do?” he asked fearfully. “If you’re asking if there will be a repeat of last night, I already told you; it won’t happen again unless you cross me. I needed something on you guys beyond the drugs, and now I’ve got it, so chill out.” “Yeah, but, what else do you want?” “You’ll find out when I want it. Until then, it’s in your best interest to stay on my good side.” Greg nodded. Jarret Dilger and Ben Tyler joined us just then, so that was the end of our discussion. Greg did an admirable job of pretending he was my friend - 141 -

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and teammate, instead of my little bitch. I gave him an approving nod when our eyes finally met. He didn’t do quite so well when we passed Jimmy in the hallway. Greg blushed and looked as if he’d just discovered he’d come to school wearing only his boxers. Jimmy looked fearful and embarrassed as well. Both of them needed acting lessons. I guess I didn’t need to worry about it much. It was their problem. There was no way they could tell anyone what was going on. I surveyed my kingdom as I walked through the halls. The girls wanted me. The boys wanted to be me. I’d vanquished my main rival and quashed another before he even had a chance to challenge me. I even had my own personal slaves to do my bidding. If Jeremy was out of the picture, I’d truly have it all. It was tempting to force my homework onto Jimmy and Greg, but I not only had to get the grades, I had to learn the stuff. Some of it would be of actual use later on in life. I couldn’t count on always having someone at my command to take care of such things for me. Besides, I wanted to be as mentally strong as I was physically. After all, it was my brains and not my brawn that had allowed me to triumph over Jimmy and Greg. I was feeling my oats, so when Candi Cunningham came up to me between third and fourth periods and began flirting with me, I kissed her long and hard. When I broke our kiss at last and looked up, Jimmy was just passing by, and he hadn’t missed the show. A lot of our classmates, but luckily no teachers, had seen Candi and me making out as well. I’d much rather have been making out with one of the guys, but Candi was a good kisser, and I had to think of my reputation. Besides, I reveled in the envious looks the other guys shot me. Some of them even looked pissed off because I could snag a girl with such ease, when they couldn’t. Later in the day I locked lips with Terri Whitehead. Candi saw us going at it, but didn’t say anything. I think she understood that if she wanted a piece of Skye, she had to share. I wasn’t about to tie myself down to any one person. Yeah, it gave me a reputation as a player, but what did I care? Football practice went smoothly. I pictured myself as quarterback next season. It was just too damned bad that Jeremy didn’t move or something so I could take over right away. I wondered if there was a way to convince him to step aside. I’d have to give that some thought. Landon gave me a sullen look as he handed me my towel, as if it was my fault Ben and Greg kicked his ass. If it was anyone’s fault, it was his for checking them out too openly. Landon knew the score as well as anyone. If you were stupid enough to let anyone know you were a fag, then you could expect to get your ass

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kicked, or worse. If Landon had learned his lesson, he’d keep his tail tucked between his legs and his eyes to himself. He’d gotten off lucky. Ben and Greg had only given him a black eye and a busted lip and knocked him around pretty good. They could’ve done a lot more. He could’ve landed in the hospital. Landon didn’t tell Coach anything. He knew better. If he did, Ben and Greg would’ve lied through their teeth and sworn they hadn’t touched Landon. If I’d been called in, I would’ve backed them up. No one took up for a fag, no one, not even the Alpha male. There were limits to what even I could do, and standing up for a fairy like Landon was definitely beyond the limits. I was glad Landon was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. If he’d narked on Ben and Greg, he’d have ended up in the hospital the next time, and he would’ve become the team punching bag for the rest of the school year. The showers were as stimulating as ever. I nearly laughed at the way Greg and Jimmy avoided each other’s gaze. I guessed they were having a hard time dealing with what had happened to them. Jimmy had always been a homophobe, and Greg wasn’t much better. It served them right. It was good payback for what Greg had done to Landon, too. I wasn’t concerned with taking up for Landon, but it was a nice bonus. I slipped a note into Jimmy’s locker when no one was looking. Simple and to the point it read, “The Ab Crunch, 10 p.m., be there.” I was looking forward to closing time even more than my workout, and that’s saying something. Life was good. Jimmy showed up just before ten, as if avoiding our encounter as long as possible. I locked up and led Jimmy into the locker room. “You were so good last night, I need it again,” I said. “Why don’t you have Candi do it? You two were really going at it today.” “Candi does it for me plenty, and Terri, and…I could go on, but what’s the point. You know how it is, I’m sure.” “Yeah, but why me and not one of them?” “Because it keeps you in your place.” “Skye, come on man! I’m not queer! This is not cool!” “If you were queer it would be no fun making you do it, now, would it? The point is that you have to do it because you’re my bitch! You might as well get used to it, because you’re gonna be doing it a lot.” “No, man, please!” “You can either get on your knees, or drop your pants and bend over because one way or another I’m gonna get off and show you who’s boss.” “Please, Skye, you’re the boss, okay? I’m not challenging that.”

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“I know you’re not. You’ve got five seconds to get on your knees, or I’m gonna bend you over and make you cry.” Jimmy dropped to his knees instantly and got down to business. I can’t even begin to describe the immense satisfaction that comes from turning your biggest rival into your bitch. I think I got off on the power and control as much as Jimmy’s increasingly talented lips. When I’d finished, Jimmy stood, looking sullen and resentful, but quite thoroughly under control. “Are you making Greg do this, too?” he asked. “That’s between Greg and me. What happens between you and me will stay just between us as well. I’m not out to publicly humiliate you.” “Just privately, huh?” “If it suits me.” “I fucking hate you, Skye.” “You can hate me all you want, as long as you remember you’re my little bitch.” Anger flashed over Jimmy’s features. “Say it.” “What?” “Tell me you’re my little bitch.” Jimmy was so infuriated it looked like his head might explode. “Say it! Or would you rather get on your knees again. I’m good for another round.” “I’m your little bitch,” he said under his breath. Louder “I’m your little bitch!” “There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it? Just don’t ever forget it.”

TAYLOR—NOVEMBER 1980 “NO!” I screamed. “Taylor! Taylor! Wake up!” My eyes snapped open. I was breathing hard and fast as if I’d been running. I trembled with fear. Marshall was standing by my bed, looking frightened and concerned. “You’re okay, Taylor. You were having a nightmare.” I fought back the tears, but a sob escaped. Marshall sat on the side of my bed and hugged me. “You’re safe now, Taylor.” I quickly got myself under control, but tears rimmed my eyes. I wondered if I’d ever feel safe again. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. It’s a little early, but why don’t we go downstairs and have some breakfast? We can talk about what happened if you like, or we can just talk.” “Yeah, I could use breakfast. I didn’t eat last night. I’m starving.” “We’ll have a feast then—hot oatmeal and Pop Tarts. I’ll even make hot tea. We’ll go crazy!” I smiled despite myself. “Sounds good.” “Come on, then.” “Owww,” I said as I got up. I winced. I was sore in various places, particularly my behind. Marshall looked at me with pity as I limped away from the bed. I was dressed already, so I checked my face out in the mirror while Marshall put on his clothes. I had a black eye and a bruise on my left cheek. I wasn’t looking pretty, but not too bad, all things considered. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d had a busted lip. I had a cut on the inside of my jaw, but that would heal. - 145 -

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I got a better idea of the damage that had been inflicted on me when I tugged my sweater, then my shirt over my head. I winced in pain with every movement. “Shit,” said Marshall. I had bruises all over my arms and chest and no doubt on my back, too. It looked a lot worse than it felt, and that was saying something. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Taylor.” “No, nothing’s broken. I can tell. I’m not exactly feeling healthy, but I’ll live.” I shivered in the chill air, then pulled my shirt and sweater back on, and we made our way to the kitchen. “You take a seat and I’ll get everything ready,” said Marshall, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Marshall fired up the Coleman stove and pumped water into a copper kettle for tea. “Do you want to tell me what happened, Taylor? If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand, but I’m worried about you.” “Devon and his buddies jumped me on my way home from work,” I said. “I was walking down the sidewalk; they grabbed me and threw me in the back of a truck. They drove me out into the country and beat the crap out of me. It was the same guys who beat up Mark not all that long ago.” “I’m so sorry, Taylor. I bet you were terrified. I would have been.” “I was. I thought they were going to kill me. It hurt so bad I wouldn’t have minded dying just to escape the pain. I’m surprised I don’t have broken bones.” “I can’t even imagine what that would be like,” said Marshall. “I’d have to say it’s the worst experience of my life so far. The beating wasn’t the worst of it, though.” I grew silent. I didn’t know if I wanted to tell Marshall what else they’d done to me. It was so humiliating and it made me feel soiled. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t have a mind to,” said Marshall. I wondered if he suspected what’d happened. “Thanks.” Marshall placed a cup of hot tea in front of me, and I wrapped my hands around it, luxuriating in the warmth. “So, are you going to the police, or what?” asked Marshall. “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” “They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that shit.” “You’re right there. Turning them in would be a big hassle, but nowhere near as bad as what they did to me last night. But anyway, let’s talk about something else. How are you doing?”

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“I made $10 last evening cleaning out a garage. It’s going to take a couple more days to finish, too.” “All right!” “Yeah, I wish I could get a real job during the day, but that’s out of the question for now.” “Marshall, have you ever thought of going back to your parents?” Marshall had his back to me. He was stirring oatmeal on the stove. He turned to me before answering. “Yeah, but that’s something I just can’t do right now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. I made my decision, and now I’m stuck with it.” “Are you sorry?” “Kind of. I’ve got myself in a real fix, that’s for sure. Sometimes I’m sorry, but then I remind myself why I did what I did and I know it was worth it.” Marshall was gazing at me, smiling at me wanly. “What?” “I’m glad I have the chance to get to know you, Taylor—Mark and the others, too.” “We’re not that wonderful—well, except for Mark.” “If you only knew…” “What?” “Nothing, sorry, I’m rambling. Here, the oatmeal is done. Let’s eat.” “Yes!” Marshall and I sat down to our feast of oatmeal, Pop Tarts, and hot tea. I think it might have tasted better than anything else I’d ever eaten; then again I was famished. Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed breakfast with Marshall. We sat and talked over hot tea when we were done. It helped to calm me and get my mind off what had happened to me. Mark walked in the kitchen door half an hour later. When he saw me, his face paled. “Oh, my God, Taylor, what happened? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Mark was frantic. “Calm down, Mark. I’m okay, other than being battered and bruised.” Mark was looking me over, running his fingers down the side of my face. “Who did this to you?” “Devon,” I said, “and his crew—the same ones who got you.” “I’m gonna kill those fuckers!” Mark turned and headed for the door. “Mark! Stop!” He turned, tears in his eyes. “I will not let them get away with this.”

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“We’re going to talk about this,” I said. “We’re going to decide what to do. But you are NOT going to go after those guys all by yourself. You’re going to promise me that right now!” Mark looked away angrily, but I knew his anger wasn’t directed at me. When he looked back, he shook his head. “I’m gonna kill those fuckers.” “No, you’re not.” I walked to him, took his face in my hands, and stared into his eyes. “When they beat you up, I wanted to go off half-cocked, but you wouldn’t let me. You made me promise not to go after them, and I expect the same promise from you.” “But this is different!” “How is it different?” “Because this time they got you!” Mark had tears in his eyes. “Babe, listen to me. I know exactly how you feel. What do you think it was like for me seeing you lying in that hospital bed, battered and beaten? I wanted to march right out and beat those guys senseless for what they did to you. I would have done it if you hadn’t made me promise not to, and, you know what, it would have been a serious mistake. Most likely I would’ve got my butt kicked, or maybe something even worse would have happened, but it was a bad idea then and it’s no better now. So you’re going to promise me right now that you won’t go out and do something stupid—like confront those guys alone. If you love me, promise me.” “You don’t play fair.” Mark paused a good long time before reluctantly saying, “I promise.” Mark looked at me with tears in his eyes. “God, I never wanted them to hurt you, Taylor. I don’t think I can bear this. We’ve got to do something.” “I know, Babe, but now is not the time to do something stupid.” He nodded. “Okay, now give me a kiss and a hug, then I’m going to go upstairs and get come clean clothes. We’ll walk to school and talk about this some more.” Mark kissed me on the lips, then held me tight. I winced in pain as he hugged me, but it was worth it. “I’ll never let them hurt you again,” he whispered. His words frightened me, but he’d made his promise and I knew he’d honor it. I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs as quickly as I could. I was sore, but getting a bit more limber as I moved around. I picked out some clean clothes, put them in a bag, and returned to the kitchen where Mark and Marshall were talking.

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“Let’s go, Babe,” I said. “See you this evening, Marshall. Thanks for breakfast.” I smiled at him. “You’re welcome and try to have a nice day.” Mark and I walked out of the kitchen and across the grass. It was well before time for school, but I needed a shower. “How bad was it?” asked Mark as we walked side by side. “I thought they were going to kill me,” I said. “Oh God, Tay…” “Mark, calm down. I’m okay.” The truth was: I wasn’t okay. I was shaken and afraid, but I couldn’t let Mark see how scared I was, or it would have been worse for him. I knew what it was like for him. I remembered what I felt as I’d seen him lying in his hospital bed. Seeing someone you love in pain is a torment beyond description, so I was trying to help Mark by pretending I was a good deal less shaken by it than I was in reality. Helping him helped me; it took my mind off my own worries. “I think we should go to the police,” said Mark. “It’s what I should have done last time, but I was just so tired of dealing with it all. I just wanted it all to go away, but it’s not going away, is it?” I looked at him and shook my head sadly. “No,” I said, “they’re just going to keep coming at us, again and again, and who knows, they might kill us next time.” “This is my fault. If I would have had the guts to go to the authorities last time…” “It’s not your fault, Mark. Going to the police would have probably been best, but I know why you made the decision you did. What happened to me isn’t your fault; it’s their fault—Devon, Rob, Jeremy, and Alex.” “Then let’s turn them in. We’ll go together, after school.” I nodded. “They didn’t…they didn’t do anything else to you, did they? Besides beat you, I mean?” I didn’t want to lie to Mark, but I had to, for his sake and mine. I knew he wouldn’t be able to bear knowing what they’d done to me, and it might trigger a rage that even his promise couldn’t control. I couldn’t stand the humiliation of telling him either. I just couldn’t stand him knowing what’d happened. “No,” I said. Mark looked into my eyes, and I prayed he couldn’t read the lie there. If he did, he gave no sign.

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One nice thing about walking to school early was that there was no one to give us any trouble. If I hadn’t been battered and bruised and walking with a limp, and if I could have forgotten what had happened to me the night before, it would have been a wonderful morning. I doubted I’d ever experience a wonderful morning again, though. It no longer seemed possible. The building was nearly empty as we walked inside. I stopped at my locker to pick up my soap and shampoo, then we went to the gym. “Shit, Taylor,” said Mark when I stripped off my shirt. “It looks worse than it feels,” I said. Mark had tears in his eyes and a look of anger on his face. I knew I’d done the right thing in not telling him about the rape. I stripped and walked into the shower area. Mark followed, keeping back far enough so he didn’t get wet when I turned on the hot spray. He watched me as I lathered my hair and ran a soapy washcloth over my body. “You’re turning me on,” he said. Those words were all it took to arouse me, and there was no hiding it. Mark grinned when he looked between my legs. I rinsed off, then turned off the shower. Mark walked to me and dropped to his knees. I thought it risky, but I didn’t try to stop him. Once his lips wrapped around me, I couldn’t. We hadn’t made love the night before, and it didn’t take me long to reach the point of no return. I moaned quietly as my orgasm traveled all through my body. Mark stood, smiled at me, and we kissed. I quickly dried off and dressed. “I wish we had more time,” I said, grinning at him. “Oh, me, too,” said Mark, his tone of voice making me laugh. “I’ll return the favor tonight.” “The pleasure was all mine,” said Mark. “Oh, no, it wasn’t,” I said, grinning. Mark and I made our morning trip together to our lockers. It was a familiar routine, comforting in its own way. I felt safer with Mark by my side, but I doubted I’d ever feel truly safe again. I wondered if anyone would notice the large wet spots on the knees of his jeans and have any idea of how they got there. I grinned. Mark dropped me off at my first-period class. Everyone was looking at my black eye and bruised face. Some of the guys snickered, thinking it funny the school fairy had got his butt kicked. Some of the girls looked at me with pity. I was used to people looking at me like a freak on display, but it seemed worse now somehow.

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I didn’t set eyes on any of my attackers until the end of third period. I walked out of class, and my eyes met Devon’s. He grinned at me knowingly, then laughed in my face. I involuntarily flinched when he raised his hand to run it through his hair, and that only made him laugh more. Part of me wanted to punch him in the face, but part of me feared him as I never had before. I didn’t realize until he walked away that I was shaking. I crossed Jeremy’s path in a nearly deserted hallway before I made it to my fourth-period class. Jeremy walked straight toward me and slammed me into a wall. A small cry of pain escaped from my lips as my bruised back hit the plasterboard. Jeremy brought his lips close to my ear and whispered, “You’re a fine piece of ass, Taylor. We’re gonna have to get together again real soon.” A second later, Jon came flying out of nowhere, plowed into Jeremy, and sent him crashing to the floor. A small crowd of sightseers gathered. “Get the fuck away from him. Now!” snarled Jon. Jeremy pulled himself up and growled at Jon. “What’s the matter? I thought Taylor was Mark’s bitch, not yours.” Jon went for him, but a couple of guys grabbed him and held him back. Jeremy grinned and looked around at his little audience before looking at me again. “Oh yeah, Taylor, I forgot to thank you for that great blow job you gave me last night. You’re a real pro.” I glared at him, but didn’t dare do more. Jon fought to escape, but couldn’t break free. Jeremy laughed and went on his way. When he was out of sight, the guys holding Jon released him, and he walked to my side. “How’d you get this?” asked Jon, taking my chin in his hand and examining my face. “It’s a little gift courtesy of Jeremy, Devon, Alex, and Rob.” “Does Mark know?” “Yeah.” “We’ve got to get those guys. I’ll tell Brandon.” “No, Jon, wait. Mark and I don’t want you guys getting involved. We’re going to report them to the cops.” “Good,” said Jon, “although I wouldn’t mind handling this the old-fashioned way. Those guys need their asses kicked. So when are you going to the cops?” “After school, I think.” “Why didn’t you go this morning?” “I thought about it, but I decided I wanted to show those jerks that they weren’t going to scare me out of coming to school. I’m not giving them the satisfaction.”

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“You’re a brave man, Taylor.” “What I am is running scared.” “Hey, they won’t get you again. I’ll round up Brandon, and we’ll escort you guys to the police station after school. Strike that, I’ll escort you—Brandon’s home sick.” “Thanks, Jon, you’re a real friend.” Alex passed us just then, glaring at me. “Shit, you think he heard?” asked Jon. “No idea.” “Well, how about we all meet at your locker right after school?” “Yeah, thanks.” “Where’s your next class?” “Right up there,” I said, pointing to a door a mere twenty feet away. Jon walked by my side those few feet, and I appreciated the gesture. I took my seat right as the bell rang. Brent, one the varsity football players, looked back at me and sucked on his finger like he was giving a blow job and laughed. Several other guys laughed, too, and I sank down in my desk, wishing I could disappear. I hadn’t truly made up my mind to tell the cops about the attack until I’d talked to Jon. Mark and I had decided on it, but I’d been having doubts. I no longer entertained any such doubts, however. This wasn’t something we could handle ourselves. Things had gotten way out of hand. Devon and his buddies had not only beaten me, they’d raped me. I couldn’t let them get away with that. A part of me was so scared of Mark finding out about the rape I was just about willing to let the whole thing go, but I couldn’t. What if it was Mark next time? Those assholes had come really close to raping Mark when they’d beaten him, and they had done it to me. There would be nothing stopping them from doing it to Mark if they got their hands on him again. There were others to think of, too. Mark and I were the only out gay boys in school, but there were more of us, I was sure of that. I didn’t want those boys to go through what I had. No one should be forced to submit his body like that—to endure the pain and the humiliation. I knew I’d have to answer some embarrassing questions and maybe even tell Mark what they’d done to me, but I couldn’t let Devon and the others get away with it. I hated them for what they had done to both Mark and me, and they had to pay.

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Jon met Mark and me at my locker as arranged. I’d spoken to Mark earlier and told him I’d decided to proceed with our plan to turn Devon and the others in right after school. He agreed with my decision and said he’d give the cops a full report of what they’d done to him, too. His bruises had faded, but there were hospital records. With any luck, the Nazis would get some time for it. “It’s a lousy day for Brandon to be out sick,” said Jon. “This would be so much easier and safer if we could just drive.” “I can’t argue with you there,” said Mark. I slammed my locker door. “Let’s do it.” We walked out of the school and down the steps. It was a fair distance to the town hall, but it seemed as if a dangerous, endless journey was before us. We walked in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Jon looked nervously around, no doubt wondering if Alex had overheard us and if the Nazis would try to stop us before we could make it to the cops. “We should’ve just cut last period,” said Jon. “We’d already be there if we had—safe and sound.” “Good idea,” said Mark. “It’s too bad you didn’t have it an hour ago.” I swallowed hard. I hadn’t been so frightened since the night before. “It’ll be okay, Taylor,” said Mark. We walked on for several blocks; then I heard the sound I’d been dreading all along—Jeremy’s truck. I knew it was his even before it screeched to a halt beside us and my attackers from the night before jumped out. “Stay behind us, Taylor,” said Jon. “You’re in no shape to fight.” Mark and Jon moved in front of me, but I knew I’d have to get involved. They couldn’t take on four guys. Besides, there was no way I was going to stand back and let Mark and Jon fight my battles for me. I was trembling with fear, but I was determined to do my part. “Going somewhere?” asked Devon. “We’re just out for a little walk,” said Jon sarcastically. “Maybe you can meet us down at Ofarim’s a little later for some ice cream.” “This doesn’t concern you, Jon. Why don’t you just walk away right now? Do that and you won’t get hurt.” “Thanks for your kind offer, but fuck off.”

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“Have it your way.” Devon turned his attention to me. “You’re making a big mistake, Taylor. You really think the cops care what happens to fags?” “You have nothing to worry about then, do you?” I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice from shaking. “We just don’t want to take any chances, do we, boys?” said Devon, looking around at his buds. They were all standing there glaring at us. Devon grinned at Mark. “I can see why you like Taylor so much, Mark; he’s a fine fuck.” Mark bristled, but Jon put a hand on his shoulder. “Why so angry, Mark? I’m giving you a compliment. Me and the guys always wondered what you saw in Taylor, so we tried him out last night.” Mark moved forward, but Jon gripped his shoulder harder and pulled back. “You look pissed off, Mark, but also a little confused,” said Devon. “Taylor didn’t tell you, did he? He didn’t tell you how we enjoyed his tight ass last night.” Mark jerked his head in my direction, and before I realized it would be a confirmation that Devon was telling the truth, I looked down at the sidewalk, humiliated. Devon laughed. “Yeah, we all had him, and, damn, was he fine.” “Fucking assholes!” yelled Mark and went for Devon. There was no holding him back this time. Mark slugged Devon in the face. Alex, Jeremy, and Rob launched themselves at him. Jon dove in and body slammed Jeremy. I wasn’t in top form, far from it, but I went for Rob. He punched me in the gut before I could touch him, but I came back with a fist to the side of his head. My abs killed me. I’d been punched in the stomach plenty of times the night before, and the hit I’d taken from Rob hurt twice as much as it should have. I couldn’t let the pain stop me, though. It was pretty much a blur after that. I was far too busy defending myself to pay much attention to what Mark and Jon were doing. Mostly, I helped by being a punching bag for our attackers. I managed to get in a decent punch now and then, but I wasn’t up to full power by a long shot. At least I kept one or another of our attackers busy while he was beating me senseless. Devon pulled out a knife. I saw that much. I knew then he’d upped the stakes to life or death. He took a swipe at Mark, but Mark managed to jump back and out of the way. I couldn’t keep my eye on what was happening, much less help, because Rob was doing his best to beat my head in. The pain was even worse than the night before. I did manage to see Mark kick the knife out of Devon’s hand at last. It went flying through the air to land in the grass by the sidewalk. A moment later, Alex

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got Mark from behind and pinned his arms. Mark nearly broke free, but Jeremy jumped in, and he and Alex each held one of Mark’s arms. Devon smiled and punched Mark in the gut. Mark couldn’t break free. Jon threw himself at Devon, and Rob gave up punching me in the face to stop Jon. It was looking bad for us. Rob took Jon down, and Devon went to work on Mark, making him cry out in pain. I hated them. I hated them all, but most of all Devon. I grabbed the knife from the grass and stumbled toward Devon as he continued to pound Mark. Jon and Rob fought it out nearby. I had to stop Devon before he hurt Mark anymore. I had to put an end to his evil. I got there right as Devon cocked his arm back for another punch. I jerked him away from Mark, thrust the knife toward his chest and… “NOOOOOO!” I screamed as Jon was shoved into the path of the knife. It happened so fast there was no time to stop. The knife sank into Jon’s chest. All movement stopped as Jon sank to his knees. Alex and Jeremy released Mark. My eyes opened wide in horror. Jon looked up at me, blood pouring from his mouth. “Accident…” he gurgled. “Not your fault…I…” Jon fell to the sidewalk, dead. Just like that, just that fast—he was dead. I stared at him in horror. Jon lay on his back, the knife buried in his chest, a pool of blood spreading away from his body. His sightless eyes stared at the sky. I was frozen with remorse and fear, but Mark jumped back into action and slammed his fist into Rob’s jaw, knocking him out cold. “Get the cops!” yelled Devon to Alex. “Go!” Alex tore down the sidewalk as Devon and Jeremy held onto Mark, hindering his pursuit. In seconds Alex was gone. Devon and Jeremy shoved Mark back and smiled at us. “You guys are finished now,” spat Devon. “Murder, and I saw it with my own eyes. You killed him, Taylor. You killed Jon. You’re going to prison. You’re going to be some hairy guy’s bitch!” In a flash Mark jerked the knife from Jon’s body and stabbed it into Devon’s chest. He did it so fast I didn’t even have time to react. “And you’re going to hell!” screamed Mark. Devon looked down at the knife in his chest. If I had to describe the look on his face with one word, I would have chosen “astonished.” Devon sank to his knees, looking up at us. He reached toward Mark with his right hand as if asking him to save him. There was no saving him, though; it was too late. Devon’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped to the side, dead. Jeremy stood there

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staring at Devon as he lay beside Jon. He gazed at us, his eyes wide, then back at Devon’s corpse. “Come on,” said Mark. “We’ve got to get out of here.” “But, Jon!” “We can’t help him now. He’s dead, Taylor.” I shook my head, tears flooding my eyes. Oh God, what have I done? Mark grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. Jeremy made no move to stop us. I ran beside Mark, blinking away tears. My heart pounded in my chest, and still we ran. We ran all the way to Graymoor. “What happened?” asked Marshall as we burst into the kitchen. I lost it. I threw myself into a chair, laid my head on the kitchen table, and bawled my eyes out. “We have to leave town,” said Mark. “We have to leave now!” “Mark, what happened?” “We were jumped by Devon and his pals. There was an accident: Jon’s dead. Devon’s dead, too. I killed him.” I raised my head off the table, still crying. Marshall’s eyes widened in shock. “You can explain it to the cops. It was self-defense, right?” “Alex, Rob, and Jeremy will tell a very different story, and you know what this town is like. You think boys like us will get a fair trial here? Besides, I didn’t kill Devon in self-defense. I killed him because he deserved to die.” “Oh, my God,” said Marshall, staring at Mark as if he was an alien or a monster. “So Taylor and I have to leave now. Taylor, pack what clothes you can as fast as you can. We have to run for it.” “Mark,” said Marshall, “you guys wouldn’t get five blocks. I’m willing to bet the town is crawling with cops.” “I don’t see an alternative. Taylor, let’s go to your room and pack. Come on!” I forced myself to stand and follow Mark up the stairs. I grabbed a backpack and began packing as many clothes into it as I could manage. “Listen, why don’t you guys hide out in Graymoor for a couple of days, or at least until it gets dark,” suggested Marshall. “I don’t know,” said Mark, “what if…” Mark stopped talking. We all heard it, the sound of the front door bursting open and someone shouting. The only word I caught clearly was “police.” “Come with me!” said Marshall quickly. “We have to get to the fourth floor!” “Why?” asked Mark.

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“No time to explain, come on!” I grabbed the backpack, and we followed Marshall out the door. We quietly made our way down the hallway in the opposite direction of the main stairway. Marshall led us up a smaller stair that I didn’t even know existed. Marshall had spent a lot of time exploring Graymoor while I was at school, and suddenly I was very thankful. Marshall led us up to the fourth floor and into the library. It was one room I recognized. “This is no good,” said Mark. “They’ll find us in here, eventually.” “No, they won’t,” said Marshall, walking to a bookcase on the left side of the room. He positioned his hands and pushed. A section of the bookcase moved inward, revealing a passage. Marshall turned and smiled at us. “Come on,” said Mark. I followed him into the passage. Marshall closed the bookcase behind us. It was pitch black in the passage, but Marshall flicked on a lighter and lit a candle that he took down from a holder on the wall. The golden light of the candle seemed dazzlingly bright in the inky passage. “You could hide out in Graymoor indefinitely without being found, and you could hide in these passages for a lifetime. Come on; let’s go a little ways down the passage, just to make sure we can’t be heard.” We followed the light of Marshall’s candle down a narrow, twisting passage. The dust on the floor was undisturbed. No one had been in there in a century. Every few feet there was a candleholder fixed to the wall, each with a candle still in it. Like the rest of Graymoor, the passage was as it had always been. We stopped and took a seat on the floor. “We’re safe here,” said Marshall. I held my head in my hands. The events of the past hour were too much for me. I was in a state of shock. “Here’s what I think we should do,” said Marshall. “They’ll probably be searching the house for hours. They’re going to know someone has been here when they see the kitchen and our bedroom. There’s nothing we can do about that. Someone has obviously tipped them off anyway or…” A muffled but load moan sounded through the wall, followed by the sounds of men screaming in fright. “Thanks, Ed and Will,” said Marshall to the air. “What?” asked Mark. “You might as well know, Graymoor is haunted. In fact, it’s probably the most haunted spot in the state.”

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“That’s hardly a secret, but Ed and Will?” “The Graymoor boys, they were murdered here in the 1870s.” “Murdered?” I asked. “The ax murders?” “Yeah.” “But why did you thank them?” asked Mark. “I have a feeling they’re helping us out. I haven’t actually talked to them, but…Okay, from the way you guys are looking at me I can tell you think I’m a nut. I’m used to it. Pretty much everyone at my old school thought I was a freak, but I know what I’m talking about when it comes to ghosts.” “You’re not a freak, Marshall; you’re a friend,” I said. “If you haven’t noticed we’re outsiders ourselves.” “And now outlaws,” said Mark, grimly. Marshall nodded. “As I was saying, we should lie low for a bit, then I’ll go out and get us some supplies for our trip.” “Our trip?” asked Mark. “You’re planning on coming with us?” “Yeah, if you’ll let me. I have no reason to stay here. The cops will be watching this place anyway and probably checking it out periodically for a while, too, unless the ghosts drive them out completely, which wouldn’t surprise me one bit. Anyway, there’s nothing for me in Verona. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stick by my friends.” Mark smiled and grabbed Marshall’s hand. “You know,” said Mark, “when the coast is clear, you could go and talk to Brandon for us. He’ll help us out I’m sure. We’ll need wheels to make it very far, and I’m sure he’ll drive us—get us started at least.” We sat in the passageway and made plans with Marshall. My head was spinning. I tried to focus on what Mark and Marshall were saying so I wouldn’t have to think about what I’d done. I wasn’t entirely successful, but I knew I couldn’t allow myself to think about it just yet or I’d start screaming and just keep on screaming. I was hungry, but there was no food, and it was far too risky to try to sneak down to the kitchen. Every once in a while we heard unearthly screams from a distant part of the house, then more human cries of fright. It was as if the house had awakened to protect us. I was oddly unafraid. Marshall was obviously excited and even thrilled. We fell silent. Mark sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I snuggled up next to him. The passage was cold, but I needed his companionship more than his warmth. I needed to feel him beside me.

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Mark turned his face towards mine, and I kissed him. Our kiss deepened and we quietly made out for the longest time. I was aware of Marshall there with us, but I knew our display of affection wouldn’t bother him. I needed Mark just then. I needed to feel his love and be as physically close to him as possible.

ETHAN—V.H.S. GYMNASIUM—LATE NOVEMBER 1980 I looked into the stands with disappointment. Not a single one of my friends had showed up for my big match. I guess the absence of Jon was no surprise after our falling out. Brandon was home sick, so I could hardly expect him to come. I searched the stands, looking for Mark and Taylor. I was sure they’d come to cheer me on, but they too were conspicuous by their absence. I did finally spot Nathan. We hadn’t been getting along too well lately, but there he was, the only one of my friends who had bothered to show up. I stepped out onto the mat and faced Zac. The muscles in his chest, shoulders, and arms tensed and flexed. Even the parts of his body covered by his wrestling singlet were easy to make out. Singlets left little to the imagination. I didn’t give his body much consideration, however; instead, I looked into his eyes. Zac was arrogant and self-assured. I hated the smug look on his face. “Ready to lose, fag boy?” I didn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve an answer. We took our places on the mat. The whistle blew, and the match began. We collided in the center. Zac seemed stronger than I remembered. I could feel his muscles tense and flex under my hands. He was a powerful young man, but I had even greater strength. I got a firm grip of his upper torso and tried to force him down to the mat. From the position I was in, I just couldn’t take him down, though. There was just no way to get him off his legs. Zac struggled to break free, but couldn’t until he managed to get me a bit off balance. He broke away and smiled at me. We circled each other and Zac dived in. I shifted my position, but he was ready for it. He had read my stance; he knew there was only one way for me to go. He slammed me face down on the mat. He struggled to turn me onto my - 160 -

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back. It was a contest of sheer power—a contest that Zac could not win. No matter how he strained, no matter how he shifted his body for leverage, he couldn’t force me onto my back. I tensed my muscles and pushed outward with my arms and chest. I broke his hold and jumped to my feet. We circled one another yet again. I was a mass of indecision. After all the pondering, all the debating, I still didn’t know whether I should throw the match or not. Well, I knew, but the truth was I just didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it, no matter the consequences. I was wrestling with both Zac and myself. The first period ended and I took the defensive position. As Zac wrapped his arm around my waist, he leaned over and whispered so that only I could hear. “You’re doing good, faggot. Keep it up. Make this look like a real match. As soon as you let me win, you’re free.” I wondered if I could trust him to keep his word. The whistle blew and Zac’s arm tightened around me like a vise. His other sought to force me down. I surged upward and broke away from him. I scored a point for an escape, but I didn’t even bother to keep track. Points didn’t seem to matter. I had too many other things going through my head. As we wrestled, my mind was filled with stray thoughts. I’d had so many hopes and dreams—Jon, the wrestling championship, a life on the farm with the boy I loved, the respect and admiration of my peers. It was all gone, though, washed away, and if I didn’t knuckle under to Zac, what little I had left would be ripped away from me as well. Zac slammed me onto my back. I wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. I had no memory of the seconds that led up to it. My own mind had worked against me—unintentionally. Zac pushed my shoulders closer and closer to the mat. “This is it, faggot. Make it look good.” My back went ever closer to the mat, down and down. Everything moved in slow motion. Moments lasted an eternity. It was if I could see it all from above: Zac on top of me, Nathan watching me from the stands, the crowd shouting and waving. I felt my left shoulder touch the mat, my right growing ever closer. The referee put his head on the mat to see if I was pinned. I felt weak. My body didn’t have the strength it had had before. Maybe it was the drugs; I’d popped a couple of pills just before the match. Maybe it was the knowledge that I was no longer my own man, that another controlled me. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. I gave up and my right shoulder hit the mat. The referee slammed his hand down. Zac had won.

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The referee held Zac’s hand in the air while the crowd cheered. I spotted Nathan in the stands, but quickly looked away. I forced myself to smile and shake Zac’s hand, then I walked off the mat in defeat. I returned to the locker room, feeling as if I’d sold my soul. Would I have been able to fight my way free at the end? I wasn’t sure. I guess it didn’t matter, because in the end I’d done exactly as I was told. I hung my head in shame. Zac strutted into the locker room, our teammates patting his back. Others came to me and I had to endure their condolences. “You really wrestled well out there, Ethan,” said one. “I thought you had him there for a moment,” said another. “Tough break,” said Steve, “but second best isn’t bad.” I nodded and sadly smiled as I pulled down the straps of my singlet. Zac stepped over to me. Would he keep his word or would he throw me to the wolves now that he had what he wanted? Zac extended his hand, “You’re a tough opponent, Ethan. No hard feelings, okay?” He smiled at me. He knew I had no choice but to shake his hand. You fucking hypocrite, I hope you die, I thought. “Yeah, no hard feelings, man,” I said. I was quite sure Zac knew what I was thinking. His eyes flashed at me. He was reveling not only in his victory, but in his defeat and domination of me. He had defeated me, not in the way everyone else thought he had, but he’d defeated me nonetheless. I stripped off my singlet and jock, dressed in my jeans, t-shirt, and flannel shirt, and left as quickly as I dared. I didn’t want to stay in the locker room listening to Zac’s bullshit one second longer than I had to. I drove back to the farm, parked the truck, and walked through the fields. I guessed I’d made the right choice and likely the only choice I could have, but it didn’t feel right. It felt all wrong, in fact. I felt like a traitor to myself and all the other gay boys out there. I should have had the balls to defy Zac. I should have kicked his ass on the mat, then endured whatever abuse was hurled at me. Even better, I should have defeated him, then revealed my secret to all of my own free will. Instead, I’d knuckled under like a coward. I found my way to the far edge of the fields and onto the forest path. The trees were naked now, their leaves fallen. It was nearly December, and all was bleak and colorless. The landscape suited my mood perfectly. There was no beauty in my world.

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I walked along the path, passing the old cabin, and came at last to the pond in the middle of the wood. I sat on the grassy slope near the cabin, wondering where I could go from here. I guessed I should be thankful that only Zac, Mark, and Taylor knew of my failure as a man. Only the four of us knew I was too big a coward to stand up for what I believed in. That’s what it came down to. Yes, if I’d defied Zac I would have been beaten, perhaps raped, and likely killed, but many had gone through just as bad or worse in standing up for their beliefs. I was gay and there was nothing wrong with that, but I was so afraid to face the consequences I turned my back on what I knew to be right. Perhaps I should just change my name to Judas, I thought. I hated the world I lived in, a world where boys like me were tormented just because we dared to love another boy. I hadn’t even done that much. I merely yearned for another boy to love. At least Mark and Taylor had each other. I was damned not only for a crime that wasn’t a crime, but for one I didn’t commit. I was damned simply for being me. ✶

✶

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The next morning, I pulled my truck into the school parking lot, grabbed my backpack, and climbed out. I spotted Brandon coming toward me and was about to shout “hello” when I noticed he was crying. More than that, he was bawling his eyes out. I dropped my backpack as Brandon grabbed me in a bear hug and cried on my shoulder. I didn’t know quite what to do, so I wrapped my arms around him and held him. His cries were so anguished they frightened me and brought me to the brink of tears as well. “Brandon, what happened?” I asked when he’d quieted slightly. It was not like Brandon to cry. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him cry before. “Jon’s dead,” he croaked, and that’s all I could get out of him for the longest time. He burst into new tears, and in moments I was bawling, too. I was in a state of utter shock. Jon was dead? Despite all that had happened, I still loved Jon. I was still in love with him. My mind was reeling. How could this have happened? Suddenly all my other problems seemed as nothing. Jon was dead? It was too horrible to contemplate. It couldn’t be true, yet it had to be. I’d never seen Brandon in such a state. I wanted to know more, yet I didn’t. I wanted to just back up time and never get out of my truck.

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Brandon finally quieted enough to talk, but he didn’t know much. All he knew was that there had been some kind of knife fight the evening before and both Jon and Devon were dead. “Devon?” “Yeah, no one seems to know what happened, but I’m guessing that fucker Devon jumped Jon and they both died in the fight. I’ve always hated that walking piece of shit, ever since he turned on Mark and Taylor. Mark has never said, but I’m willing to bet Devon was one of the guys who jumped him. I hope he rots in Hell!” I didn’t say a word about what I knew, although, since Devon was dead, the secret hardly seemed to matter anymore. “This can’t be happening,” I said. “Jon can’t be dead.” “I wish it wasn’t true either, Ethan, but you and I and everyone else are going to have to face the facts. God, I’m going to miss him. He was joking around and laughing just a couple of days ago, and now he’s gone.” Tears flowed freely from Brandon’s eyes and mine. Neither of us were the least bit ashamed. We were getting a lot of looks as we walked into the school, but word was spreading like wildfire. As I sat in homeroom, the voice of Assistant Principal Jackson Montgomery came over the loudspeaker. “Good morning students. It is my sad duty to inform you that Verona High School lost two of its students yesterday evening. Jon Deerfield and Devon Devlin were both killed during an altercation in town. Funeral arrangements are pending, and grief counselors will be available for those in need. Please speak to your homeroom teacher for an appointment. On behalf of the teachers and administration of Verona High School, I’d like to convey our condolences to the friends and family of both these fine young men. They will be missed.” That was it. That was how the school announced that the boy I loved was dead. I just sat there in a daze, crying. I wasn’t alone; there were tears in a lot of eyes. Jon was popular, and he was popular because he was kind to everyone. People cared about him because he cared about them. He always had a kind word for everyone. A few were probably crying for Devon, too. He was a worthless piece of shit, but even he had friends. A pall hung over the school. The usually noisy hallways were unnaturally quiet, like a funeral parlor. Gone were the shouts, cheerful greetings, and slammed locker doors—all replaced by silence. Kids spoke in hushed voices or whispers, and the rumors went wild.

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Even the cafeteria was quiet. I sat directly across from Brandon at lunch. Both of us—all of us—keenly felt Jon’s absence. He’d been right there with us the day before, and now he was gone—gone forever. Neither Mark nor Taylor was anywhere to be found. I knew the death of Devon would bring them no grief, but Jon was their friend, one of the few who’d stuck by them in their time of need. His death was going to hit them hard. Only I would feel his loss more keenly. Only Brandon, Nathan, and I were present out of our tight little group. Steve was still there, as well as a handful of others, but there wasn’t much left of the core group of my friends. I wished Mark and Taylor had come to school. Their presence would have been comforting. It wasn’t until after school that I discovered what had really happened to Jon, and the truth was as wild as any of the rumors. TV reporters had shown up at school, so I made sure to watch the evening news since I figured there would be something about Jon on there. In a way, I didn’t want to know what had happened, but I had to know what had happened to the boy I loved. I took a break from my work just before five, went inside, and turned on the usually neglected TV. There was a mention of the double killing in Verona at the beginning, but I had to endure nearly twenty minutes of crap before they got to the story. Tragedy struck the little town of Verona, Indiana, yesterday when two of its youths were knifed to death on the city streets. Jon Deerfield and Devon Devlin, both seventeen, were attacked and killed yesterday evening by two teenaged boys who are now wanted by the police. Three eyewitnesses were present and watched in horror as a minor altercation turned into bloodshed. Police are asking everyone to be on the lookout for Mark Bailey and Taylor Potter, who are wanted for questioning and face charges of homicide…

My mouth dropped open in shock as my attention was focused on the school photos of Mark and Taylor that covered the screen. I just stared at them in utter disbelief. Mark and Taylor had killed Jon and Devon? How was that possible? Why? I could understand them killing Devon in a fight. After what he’d done he deserved to die, but Jon? Both Mark and Taylor were tight with Jon. They were friends. They would never hurt him. It couldn’t be true! There had to be some mistake! I missed the rest of the story. My mind was reeling. Mark and Taylor were wanted for the murders of Devon and Jon? Talk about a nightmare! Like a dream, the situation didn’t make sense. I knew I could sit there forever pondering it and never figure it out, so I returned to my work, but not before going upstairs

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to my room for a quick drink. I pulled the whiskey bottle from its hiding place in my dresser drawer and took a swig. The alcohol burned as it went down my throat, but I needed something to steady my nerves. I stuck the bottle into my jeans, opposite the pocket that contained my little bottle of pills. Nathan gaped at me as I returned to the fencerow. I’d been grieving for Jon earlier, but now I was in a state of shock. I sank the posthole digger into the earth as I tried to ignore Nathan’s questioning gaze. My whole world was being systematically destroyed. Zac had forced me to throw the championship match. I’d messed up my relationship with Jon, and now he was dead. Mark and Taylor were on the run, wanted for the murders of Devon and Jon. All of my close friends, except for Brandon and Nathan, were either dead or missing. Maybe I was some kind of jinx. Disaster seemed to follow in my wake. “Ethan? Ethan, what’s wrong? What did they say on the news?” I threw the post hole digger and sat down on the ground. I began to cry again. I felt like I’d cried off and on all day. Jon was dead. All day my mind had refused to accept it. I knew it was true, but part of me just wouldn’t believe it because it couldn’t be true. Every time I realized it was indeed true, grief hit me anew. I’d loved Jon; I’d been in love with him. I knew what I’d wanted with him could never be, but I felt like my dream was being crushed all over again. Even worse, we’d parted not as friends, but as enemies. “Ethan?” “The last time Jon was here,” I said through my tears, “I ordered him out of my house and out of my life, and now he’s gone forever. I’ll never have the chance to say ‘I’m sorry.’” I cried in despair. Nathan reached down and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I know what Jon meant to you. I knew things hadn’t been quite right between the two of you here lately, but I didn’t know…” “He died thinking I hated him,” I said and burst out into new tears. “No,” said Nathan. “No, he didn’t. Did you hate him after whatever it was that happened between the two of you? Even if you did, you still loved him, right? I’m sure he felt the same way about you. Jon knew you cared about him, Ethan. I’m sure of it.” “Thanks,” I said. I pulled the whiskey bottle out of my jeans and took a swig. “Ethan, you shouldn’t…” “I need it, okay?” I yelled. “Jon’s dead! How do you think I fucking feel about that? Huh? And Mark and Taylor…”

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I fell silent and took another drink before capping the bottle and putting it away. “What about Mark and Taylor?” asked Nathan timidly, no doubt afraid I’d yell at him again. “They’re wanted for the murders of Devon and Jon.” “What?” asked Nathan, incredulously. “That’s impossible!” “There were eyewitnesses, Nathan. I can’t believe it, either. I mean, maybe they killed Devon. I could understand that. I almost could’ve killed him myself. But not Jon. I can’t even begin to think of what could have led Mark or Taylor to kill Jon. They were such good friends.” “They couldn’t have,” said Nathan. “They just couldn’t have.” “I guess we’ll find out the details soon enough. It’s all over the news.” Nathan and I returned to work, but my heart wasn’t in it. I sank the post-hole digger into the earth, over and over, trying to forget—everything. It didn’t help. Nothing could erase the horror of recent events.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 Zoë gave me the cold shoulder at school the next morning. She wouldn’t even look at me as I sat beside her in Lit. I’d hurt her, and badly. I felt an immense sense of guilt, but what could I do—lie to her and pretend I had romantic feelings for her? I knew I’d done the right thing, but I’d still hurt her. I tried to look at things from her point of view. We’d been friends for years, then had become romantically involved. I thought of the times I’d spent with Nick—the long walks holding hands, hugging, kissing, eating out, making out, watching movies at the Paramount, snuggling together on the couch, and making love. I loved Nick so much it hurt, and doubtless Zoë had felt the same way about me. How would I have felt if Nick suddenly told me it had to end because he was from another reality? I realized the enormity of my error, not from the perspective of danger to myself, but to the harm I’d done Zoë. I should have never told her the truth. Almost anything would have been better than that. I couldn’t change the past, however. I smiled grimly at the thought. Marshall had obviously changed it, and thanks to his interference I was exiled to a world where I didn’t belong. How could he have been so stupid? Zoë looked at me only once during Lit, at the very end of the period. I gave her a sad smile, but she immediately turned and walked away. I knew I couldn’t make up for what I’d done to her all at once, but a smile was a start. I’d get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. I’d do whatever it took to make her understand that I cared about her deeply. I couldn’t be her boyfriend, but I always wanted to be her friend. “Out of the way, faggot.” I looked up just in time to see Tony Paulik slammed into a locker by a guy wearing a V.H.S. football jersey. As the football player walked on, Tony looked nervously about as if expecting to be attacked. I walked over to him. “Hey, Tony, what’s up?” - 168 -

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He looked at me quizzically, which indicated we didn’t know each other well. I hadn’t known him back in my other life, either, so not much had changed. In a way, it was better. I had no history with him to remember. “Hi, um, Sean, right?” I nodded. “What a nice guy,” I said, gazing at the boy who’d shoved Tony. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. I just wished he hadn’t called me that. A name like that can stick, you know?” “Yeah.” Tony was gay where I came from, and I wondered if he was here. I knew better than to ask, so I kept my mouth shut. We walked together down the hall. Tony seemed to take some comfort in my presence. He had a fearful edge to him that made me believe he was indeed gay. I wished I knew for sure. At first, I thought I possessed inside information about everyone, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. Finding out I was supposed to be straight had rocked my world. I couldn’t risk being out, but I could be friendly to the boys I thought were gay. There was no harm in that. A friendly smile or word could mean a lot to someone who felt isolated and alone. Maybe I could do even more in the future, but I needed to feel things out. What I’d seen so far wasn’t promising. Prejudice ran rampant through the halls of V.H.S. I was beginning to realize just how good things were back home. Poor Oliver. What must his last moments of life have been like? I was dead certain he’d been lynched for being gay. It was almost impossible to believe someone had actually killed him just because he was attracted to other boys. His was a life cut far too short, and it happened all too often. The lynching made it especially frightening, but there were plenty of boys out there like Oliver who had been killed for being different. I thought of all the fundamentalist religious groups who fought tooth and nail against gay rights. Had something perverted their religion into hate? They claimed to be doing the work of God and probably really believed it, but their actions resulted in beatings and death for boys like Oliver. How could that be a good thing? The results of their actions alone should have been enough to tell them they were in the wrong, but they seemed blind to their hypocrisy. Perhaps they just didn’t care. Perhaps all that mattered to them was prejudice and hate. I’d always been infuriated by those who claimed to be religious, yet spewed venom against minority groups. These were the same types who had justified slavery with the Bible. To me, there could be no greater sin. A part of me hated people who were like that, but the larger part of me pitied them. How horrible it

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must be to go through life with so much hate inside. I’d far rather be part of a harassed and abused minority than to be a hypocrite consumed with hatred. Ken Clark sat near me at lunch, and his glances in my direction led me to believe that he was as gay in this reality as in my own. The fact that he was supposed to be dead would have creeped me out, but I’d been spending a lot of time with Marty, who was also supposed to be among the deceased. It’s not like they were zombies after all. They were as alive as I was. In my old reality, Devon had posed as Ken’s ghost, and that added an extra edge of freakiness and fear to the current situation. Devon could hardly maintain an ongoing masquerade as a real live boy, however. It was one thing for him to pose as the ghost of Ken, but quite another for him to pose as the living Ken. My eyes met Ken’s and I smiled. I thought of what had passed between us in my other life. Ken was quite an attractive boy with his reddish-blond hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but then neither was I. Ken was a good deal closer than I was, that was for sure! My gaze fell on Marty and I began to feel all warm and fuzzy. Ken was good-looking, to be sure, but if something was going to happen, I wanted it to happen with Marty. We’d been friends forever, and if he felt the same way about me in this reality as in the other, we could be much more than friends. I hadn’t known about Marty’s feelings for me until he was gone, but now I had a second chance. This time, things would be different. I caught Marty after school and asked if he wanted to hang out. He came home with me, and I was delighted to find that Seth wasn’t there. I’d intended to take things very slowly with Marty, especially since he’d so vehemently denied he was gay, but how much time did I have? I thought I had all the time in the world before, and I’d been terribly wrong. We listened to music and talked while I worked up the courage to open up to Marty. It wasn’t easy. I knew I was risking our friendship, and the possible consequences frightened me. I couldn’t let fear get in the way, however. Fear was the enemy. It could keep me from happiness. Marty wanted to wrestle around with me, but I thought it unwise considering the circumstances. If he turned out to be straight, he might not take kindly to having wrestled with a gay boy. Instead of accepting his invitation, I forced myself to speak. “Marty, I want to talk to you about something serious,” I said. “About me?” he asked fearfully. “No, it’s about me. I have something I want to tell you, but it’s difficult.” “What could be so hard to tell your best friend?”

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“That’s just it, you see, I’m afraid of losing you as my best friend.” Marty looked concerned, almost frightened. “I can’t imagine anything so bad that it would end our friendship.” “It’s bad,” I said. “At least I’m afraid you’ll think it’s bad. I don’t, but…I’m just going to say it. I’m gay.” Marty just sat there and looked at me blankly for a few moments, then something akin to panic seized him. “That’s not funny. You shouldn’t joke about such things, even with me.” “Do I look like I’m joking?” “I don’t want to talk about this, Sean.” “Marty, I’m trying to tell you something important. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lie to you. I’ve always been as truthful with you as I could but…” “What about Zoë?” he asked suddenly, cutting me off. “We broke up.” “I know that, but you dated her for months and there were other girls before her, and now you come in here and tell me you’re gay? I don’t believe you!” “I’m telling you the truth, Marty. It’s just…hard to explain.” “Well, you damn well better explain! If you’re telling me the truth right now, it means you’ve been lying to me for years! Every time you went out with a girl you were lying to me and everyone else! You were pretending to be something you weren’t!” “Can’t a guy go out with a girl without sex being involved?” “Yes, but I’ve seen you with girls. You and Zoë have practically screwed right in the hallway at school, and I know you’ve fucked her, unless you were lying to me about that too.” I’d talked to Marty about that? “I wasn’t lying to you then, Marty, and I’m not lying to you now. It’s complicated. You might even say I was a different person then. Yeah, I know I was with Zoë, but maybe I’ve just figured myself out, okay? Girls don’t do it for me. I’m attracted to guys. This is my deepest, darkest secret, and I’m trying to share it with you because you’re my best friend. I can’t tell you how much you mean to me, Marty. You’re more important to me than anyone else in the whole world, and that’s why I’m telling you.” Marty was on the verge of tears. He gazed at me suspiciously. “This is some kind of trap, isn’t it? You think I’m queer, so you’re acting like you are to get to me to come out to you. Then, when I do, you’re going to go out and tell everyone.”

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“No!” I said. “That’s not what this is about at all! How could you think for even a second that I’d do something like that to you?” “I’m sorry. I’m just…scared, and you’re confusing me.” Marty was sitting on my bed, his knees drawn up toward his chest. He looked like a very young and very frightened boy. “Look, Marty. You reminded me yourself the other day of what happened to Oliver. They killed him because he was gay; at least I’m pretty sure of it. Do you really think I’d tell you I was gay as some kind of joke? If I did, it wouldn’t be very damn funny, now would it? It would be like making fun of Oliver, and you know I’d never do something like that. I’d also be putting myself in a lot of danger. You know I wouldn’t try to trap you, and you know how dangerous it would be to kid around about something like this. That only leaves one possibility: that I’m telling the truth. That’s what I’m doing, Marty, and I’m doing it because you’re my friend and I trust you with my life.” Marty looked up at me and gazed into my eyes for several long moments. He nodded. “How could you do this to me?” asked Marty. “All this time I thought you were straight,” he said, looking at the floor. “I’ve had to keep all my feelings bottled up inside because I was afraid you’d turn on me if you knew. I’ve watched you go off on dates with girls, all the time wishing it was me. Every time you kissed Zoë, my heart ached because I wanted you to be kissing me instead. Do you have any idea what it has been like for me to want you so bad, but not to be able to breathe a word of it? Watching you date girls has been pure torture. How could you do this to me? How could you live a lie for so long while I’ve suffered for it?” Tears welled up in Marty’s eyes and spilled out, rolling down his cheeks. Even as I pitied him, happiness welled up in my heart. Marty shared my feelings. He felt the same in this reality as he did in the other. It was all I could do to keep myself from laughing with joy. “I’m so sorry, Marty. I didn’t know. If I’d known, things would’ve been different. I didn’t lie to hurt you, Marty. I lied because I felt I had to. I’ve been scared, Marty. Surely you can understand that. You know what it’s like for guys like me, like us. If the kids at school knew I was gay, my life would be hell. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I love you.” “I guess I screwed this up,” said Marty. “What do you mean?”

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“For a long time, I’ve had this dream…this fantasy that you’d come to me and tell me you were gay, too, and that you love me, and now it’s come true, but instead of taking you in my arms and kissing you, I got all scared and pissed off.” “I hurt you. I didn’t mean to do it, but I did. Of course you’re angry. There’s nothing wrong in that. Of course, you’re afraid. There’s nothing wrong with that either. I do love you, Marty. I’ve always loved you, first as a friend and now, hopefully, as a boyfriend.” Marty looked up at me, his eyes wet with tears. Slowly, his trembling frown turned into a grin. He stood, ran at me, and clasped me in a hug. He put his head on my shoulder and held me tight. I could feel his chest shuddering with sobs, but I knew he was happy. I nearly cried myself. Marty raised his head from my shoulder and peered into my eyes. I leaned forward and our lips met for the very first time. I kissed him softly and did not break the kiss. Instead, our kiss deepened and our tongues became entwined. Our lips parted after several moments, and Marty smiled at me again. “If I wasn’t sure I was gay before this, I am now,” said Marty. I knew exactly what he meant. The evidence was pressing hard against me. I pulled his face toward mine and kissed him again. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking of what Marshall had done, but if I had been, I would have thanked him.

SKYE—FALL 1997 I pulled my Cutlass into the school parking lot and stepped out of the car. Another day at V.H.S. was dawning. Greg climbed out of his Dodge Ram beside me and awkwardly said, “Hey.” His eyes darted about fearfully, as if my very presence disturbed him, but at least he was trying to act normal. I guess I’d messed him up worse than I thought, but that was just too bad. Landon walked up moments later and purposefully gazed at Greg. “You shouldn’t pick on people because they’re different.” My mouth practically dropped open. I was shocked Landon had balls to address Greg like that. He was usually so meek. Greg laughed at him. “Yeah, right. You’re way beyond different, queer.” “Where’s your buddy Ben?” asked Landon, looking around. I felt a cold shiver of fear pass through my body. Landon was way too calm and detached. “He’ll be along, not that it’s any of your business, faggot.” “Good, then we’ll just wait for him.” Greg smirked at Landon. “You’re quite the little freak, aren’t you? If you wanna see Ben, you wait on him. I’m goin’ in.” “You’re not going anywhere,” said Landon. That’s when he pulled the pistol out of the front of his jeans and pointed it at Greg. “I hate you,” said Landon. “I hate every guy like you. Just because someone’s different, you think you can do whatever you want to them. Well, you can’t.” Greg threw himself back against his truck, dropping his backpack. “Dude, calm down, we…” “You shouldn’t pick on people,” said Landon and fired. Blood exploded from Greg’s chest. He sank to the ground in slow motion, just like in the movies after someone says, “You got me.”

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People all around were screaming and running away. It was chaos. Landon turned the gun on me. I just stood there, looking at him with his hand on the trigger. This is it, I thought; I’m going to die. “Why didn’t you help me? I begged you to help me,” said Landon, “but instead you said I deserved to be beaten. You called me a fag.” I was scared shitless. I’ll admit it. Landon had gone psycho. I was suddenly sorry I hadn’t stepped in and saved his butt. “I’m not the one who beat you up,” I pointed out, hoping it would save my life. “Yeah, but what did you do to stop those assholes? Nothing! Instead, you threatened me. You think you’re so hot because you’re so good looking and you have all those muscles! Well, you’re ugly Skye! You’re so ugly inside you make me sick! You wanna know something? I am a fag! You wanna know something else? I wouldn’t touch you if you begged me. You disgust me! You think you’re so fucking hot, but you’re nothing but a pathetic loser, and that’s all you’ll ever be because you’re selfish and conceited, and you don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself. I hope you rot in hell.” I stood there trembling. Landon moved closer until the barrel was touching my forehead, right between my eyes. “Please…” I said, trying to keep from bawling. “Please don’t kill me.” “That’s right, buff boy, beg the faggot, beg him for your life.” “Please…” I repeated. “I should blow your brains out. You wouldn’t be so pretty then, would you? I’m gonna do something worse, though, much worse. I’m going to let you live and go on being a complete and total asshole. It’s all going to come back on you, Skye, and when it does, you’ll wish I’d killed you.” I swallowed hard. Landon’s hands trembled as he held the gun. He took a couple of steps back. “You should’ve helped me,” he said, then turned the gun on himself. He pointed it at his head. “No, Landon, don’t! We can…” There was a deafening blast and Landon’s head exploded. That’s what it seemed like. I was standing not three feet away from him. Blood and parts of his brain splattered on my shirt, face, and neck. He fell face down on the pavement, a pool of blood widening beneath him. I leaned over and hurled my guts out. I’d never seen anything like that before in my life. I knew I’d have nightmares about it forever.

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Mrs. Leander, who’d been on parking-lot duty, appeared at my side. She put a hand on my stomach and another on my back as I emptied the contents of my stomach, then dry-heaved. I could hear Mrs. Kafka sending a student running for the principal, then shouting at everyone to stay back. Greg was moaning. That was the first indication that he was still alive. I sat on the asphalt and looked over at him. He was leaning against the tire of his truck. Mrs. Kafka was examining him. He was bleeding a lot. My stomach ached, but I pulled my shirt off and tossed it to her. She pressed it against Greg’s chest to try to slow the bleeding down. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t stop myself. I was hyperventilating, too. I thought Landon was going to blow my brains out. His blood dripped from my face. I looked down. I was covered in gore. Even my torso, which had been covered by my shirt but was now bare, was smeared with Landon’s blood. I dry-heaved again and thought I was going to pass out. I could hear sirens in the distance. I looked over to see Landon lying on the pavement. More teachers were coming, keeping kids back from the gruesome sight. I felt cold. I thought he was gonna kill me. I thought Landon was going to blow me away. Instead, he’d turned the gun on himself. I couldn’t think about it. His blood was on my hands, my face, everywhere. I tried wiping it off, but I knew it would never come off, not really. An ambulance and a squad car roared into the parking lot. The EMTs rushed to Greg. They quickly examined him, secured a pad tightly against his chest, then placed him on a stretcher. In moments, the ambulance was speeding away. Another came soon, and the paramedics examined me. “You’re in shock,” one said. I let them guide me onto a stretcher. I wasn’t feeling so good. Just as they put me in the back of the ambulance, I saw other EMTs covering Landon with a sheet. He was dead—of that there was no doubt. I’d seen part of his skull and brain explode and felt them hit me. I’d seen him fall lifeless. The guy in the back of the ambulance with me was really nice. I was covered in gore and was on the verge of freaking out over it. His voice helped calm me. “You’re a football player, aren’t you?” he asked as he took my blood pressure. “Yeah,” I said, trying to slow my breathing. “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “You’re just suffering from shock. Your heart is racing, but that’s understandable. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.” “Okay,” I said. My mind was kind of numb, as if it was trying to shut down so I wouldn’t have to see Landon’s head exploding all over again.

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I lay there in the emergency room with Landon’s blood and brains covering me. If they didn’t let me clean up soon I was going to be sick again. I tried to get my mind off it. I thought of Greg, somewhere in the hospital, fighting for his life. I wondered if he’d make it. I’d never come so close to death before. I really thought Landon was going to kill me. He held my life in his hands. I’d never been so helpless. Landon didn’t have half my strength or moves, but none of that mattered while he was pressing the barrel of the pistol into my forehead. I thought of the things he’d said to me. Did he really see me as such a despicable person? I decided Landon was crazy, just plain crazy. He had to be. You didn’t bring a gun to school, shoot a kid, then blow your own brains out if you weren’t crazy. It didn’t matter what he thought of me. He was nuts.

TAYLOR—GRAYMOOR MANSION—LATE NOVEMBER 1980 I awakened, unaware of how much time had passed. I couldn’t even remember falling asleep. My last memory was of kissing Mark. A smile curled up the edges of my mouth. My head rested on his shoulder, and I could feel his head leaning against mine. I just stayed put, enjoying the intimacy between us in the pitch-black passageway. After a good long while I had to move. My neck was hurting. It popped like crazy when I straightened up. Mark stirred and awakened. We found each other in the darkness and kissed. Our movement awakened Marshall, and he flicked on his lighter and lit a candle. “What time it is?” asked Mark. “You’re the one wearing a watch,” I pointed out. He gazed at it. “Whoa! It’s ten a.m. tomorrow morning. Well, you know what I mean. We slept through the night.” “I’m going to go downstairs and get us some water and something to eat,” said Marshall. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving. You guys stay put. I doubt the cops are still here, but if they are they’re not searching for me.” Marshall took another candle from the wall and lit it, leaving us with the other. He disappeared quickly in the twisting passageway. The events of hours before flowed into my mind, causing my lower lip to tremble. All the thoughts I’d wanted to keep out came right back at me. “I killed him,” I said. “I killed Jon.” Tears began to flood my eyes. “Tay, don’t torture yourself. It was an accident.” “That’s what I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t matter. Jon is still dead, and I killed him.”

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“Tay, what happened was a horrible, horrible accident, but it was an accident. Jon knew that, Babe, his last words were that it wasn’t your fault.” “He shouldn’t have spoken last words! He shouldn’t be dead. Because of me, he’s dead!” “Taylor, you can’t keep torturing yourself with this. I know it’s something you’ll never get over entirely. What happened was a horrible tragedy, but you know Jon wouldn’t want you to torture yourself. He was our friend. Look at it this way. If the situation was turned around, how would you feel about Jon? What would you want for him?” “I know what you’re saying, and you’re right. If our situations were reversed I wouldn’t want Jon to spend his time feeling guilty. I’d want him to live his life and be happy.” “That’s what you’ve got to do, Tay. Live your life and be happy.” “That’s much easier said than done. Jon should’ve kept on living for a long, long time. If it wasn’t for me…” “Tay, don’t. You’re torturing yourself.” “It’s what I deserve.” “No, it’s not.” I nodded, but I didn’t truly agree. I never meant to kill Jon, but I’d done it. Jon had forgiven me, but could I ever forgive myself? I wished with all my heart I could change the past, but I couldn’t. I had to live with the consequences of my actions. I turned to look at my boyfriend. “How are you feeling, Mark? I’m sorry, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems I haven’t been thinking of you.” “It’s okay, Taylor, so much has happened, but if you want to know how I feel, I feel like a murderer.” “Devon did a lot of terrible things to us both, Mark.” “Yes, but that didn’t give me the right to kill him. I was just so angry! There he was, standing there, calling you a murderer, saying all those horrible things. After all he’d done I couldn’t bear to see him win. I couldn’t. I’ve never been so infuriated before and now…I’m a murderer.” “Mark…” “Taylor, I know I had my reasons for killing him. Devon was an evil bastard, plain and simple, but that doesn’t change what I did or what I’ve become. What you did to Jon was an accident, but I can’t make that claim. I meant to kill Devon, and part of me is glad I did it. What kind of person does that make me,

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Taylor? I’ve murdered someone, and part of me is happy about it. I never thought I’d end up like this.” I took Mark’s hand, wishing there was something I could say to make him feel better. “I tried to kill him, too, remember? That’s why Jon is dead now. Devon was hurting you, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to stop him. He had to die. If Jon hadn’t gotten in the way at the last moment, I would’ve killed Devon and part of me would be pleased. You want to know the truth? I’m glad Devon is dead. He did terrible things to both of us and probably others, too. He would have just kept doing it, going on and on, spreading more and more pain. Someone had to stop him. He pushed us too far, Mark. He’s as guilty as either one of us.” “Then why do I feel so guilty? I took away his life, and I meant to do it. No one has a right to do that.” Marshall returned just then, laden with Pop Tarts, candy bars, and a gallon jug of water, effectively ending our discussion. It was just as well. Our problem was one without resolution. Both Mark and I would have blood on our hands forever. “It’s not exactly Ofarim’s, but it’ll have to do,” said Marshall. I grabbed a Pop Tart and devoured it. I was starving. “You think Brandon’s at home sick again?” asked Marshall. “Dunno,” said Mark, with a mouth half full of cherry Pop Tart. “Here, write down his address for me, and I’ll start at his house. If he’s not there, I’ll infiltrate the school, kind of like a spy mission.” “Be careful,” I said. “I will be; don’t you worry about that. I’ll see you guys later.” “Aren’t you eating?” asked Mark. “I’ll grab something, see you later.” “Man, I was hungry,” I said between bites. “It looks like you still are.” Mark and I had four Pop Tarts each and drank a good deal of water. We left the candy bars for the time being. “How long do you think Marshall will be gone?” I asked. “There’s no telling; probably quite a while, though.” “Could be hours,” I said. “I know something we can do to pass the time,” said Mark. He leaned over and kissed me. He tasted like cherry and frosting.

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That’s all it took. I attacked him, ripping his clothes away from his firm, young body. In no time at all we were both naked. We kissed and caressed each other and pressed our bodies together. We made wild, passionate love, our breath coming harder and faster until the passageway was filled with our gasps and moans. We made love until we were both spent. We needed each other. We needed to touch and to be touched. We struggled to become one, to forget our troubles and our guilt. We lost ourselves in each other as our love surrounded us like a cloak. By the time Marshall returned, both Mark and I were fully clothed and looking quite innocent. I doubt anyone could imagine how hard we went at it when we made love. Of course, it wasn’t always like that; sometimes we took it nice and slow, but often we went at it with everything we had. “Mission accomplished,” said Marshall. “Brandon was at school, but I found him.” “Did everything go okay?” I asked. “No one even asked me for a hall pass. I caught him between classes, about an hour after lunch.” “It’s that late?” asked Mark. “Yeah. Anyway, Brandon is going to meet us at the back edge of the property just after dark. He’s borrowing his cousin’s car just in case the cops are watching him. He said he’ll drive us anywhere we want. He’d like to be back in time for school tomorrow morning, but he’ll keep on driving if that’s what we want.” “If he can get us a couple of hours away, it’s all we’ll need,” said Mark. “It’s not as if we’re going anywhere in particular.” Mark and I had discussed returning to his aunt’s, where we’d recently had a wonderful week together, but that was probably one of the first places the cops would look for us. Being fugitives messed up plenty of our options. “Here,” said Marshall, “I bought us lunch from Ofarim’s.” He handed us each a sack and a drink. “You’re the best!” said Mark. “Yeah, thanks,” I said. “What are friends for?” I opened my bag to find a double cheeseburger, fries, and little packages of catsup and salt. I felt like I was in heaven. “Brandon gave us a couple of backpacks, too,” said Marshall. “He even gave me this coat. I didn’t want to take it, but he insisted. I’m really glad he did, because I’m certain our journey will be a cold one.” “He had all that at school?” asked Mark.

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“Well, in his car.” “How’s the weather outside? I feel like I’ve been living in a cave for days,” I said. “It’s bright and sunny, but chilly, of course. You’ll see the sun tomorrow, Taylor; don’t you worry.” I chowed down on my burger. “Any sign of the cops?” Mark asked. “No. They don’t appear to be watching Graymoor. They probably think we split already. You guys should probably hide out here until we leave, just to be safe. Right before we go I’ll pack up the food in the kitchen, and Taylor can get any of his stuff he left behind. We won’t be able to take everything.” “I wish I could get my hands on my car,” said Mark. “Every cop in the state would have your license-plate number,” I said. “We’ll have a better chance at getting away on foot.” “You’re probably right.” Mark hugged me. “See why I love him, Marshall? Tay has brains and beauty.” “So I guess we just sit here inside the wall all day?” I asked. “That’s the plan,” said Marshall. “Exciting, huh?” Mark and I looked at each other, but didn’t say anything. I yawned. “Now that I’m full, I’m sleepy.” “We should probably all try to get some sleep,” said Mark. “We may be traveling all night, and most of it will be walking.” “Where to?” I asked. “Rivendale?” That’s the home of the elves in The Lord of the Rings. “I don’t know, Frodo,” said Mark smiling. “As long as it’s away from here, I’ll be happy.” We all made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Marshall had brought in a few blankets, so we were warm enough. Mark and I snuggled together, and I soon drifted off to sleep in his arms. I had the most beautiful dream as I lay there. Mark and I were living together in Graymoor, only it wasn’t dusty and dilapidated, it was cleaned and polished and restored to its original grandeur. No one bothered us because we were different. No one cared. We were happy; it was as simple as that. It was the most wonderful dream I’d had in a long time. I was not surprised to awaken in darkness, but I was surprised when Marshall said it was time to get ready. Brandon would be waiting on us at the rendezvous point soon. We left our hiding place, and Mark and I returned to the bedroom

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while Marshall made for the kitchen. It was now as dark outside as it had been in the secret passage—well almost. I’d already stuffed my backpack nearly full, so there wasn’t room for much more. I concentrated on packing my warmest clothes, as December was upon us. I made sure to pack plenty of boxers and socks, too. Mark couldn’t return home for his own clothing, so he’d be sharing mine. We’d just have to make do. Both Mark and I dressed as warmly as possible. At least we both had good warm leather jackets. I had the feeling they’d be our prize possessions out in the cold. I left a good deal of my stuff behind. There was no way to carry it all, and most of it served no practical purpose. I did grab up my copies of The Two Towers and The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien. I elected to leave The Fellowship of the Ring behind, as I’d already finished it. When I’d stuffed the last item in my backpack and zipped it shut, I paused and gazed at my room. “You know, even with all the problems we had, I was happy here,” I said. Mark hugged me close. “We’ll be okay, Tay. We’ll make it somehow, and no matter what, we’ll be together. In the end, that’s all that matters.” “But what if something happens, Mark? What if we get caught or…” “We’ll live our lives until they come undone,” said Mark. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’re in this together. I’ll never leave you.” I smiled and kissed him and told him I loved him. He put his hand on my shoulder and we walked out the door. Marshall had his backpack stuffed with food, an item that would no doubt be much in demand soon enough. Our future was uncertain. Both Marshall and I had been working, but we had less than fifty bucks between us. Mark had twenty-something in his wallet, but it wouldn’t last long. We exited the kitchen door and crept around the house, which was no small feat, I assure you. Graymoor was vast, and the yard was overgrown. It was a bit like making our way through a jungle. As we passed an enormous room made entirely of glass I could have sworn I heard laughter and splashing water. I had the strongest urge to draw closer and peer through the glass, but I feared what I might see. There was no time for it, in any case. We were in danger of discovery. Brandon was waiting on us. He hopped out of his car at the first sight of us and helped us put our backpacks in the trunk. Mark climbed into the front with him, and Marshall and I crawled into the back seat. “Thanks, Brandon,” said Mark, turning to him as soon as the doors were shut. “What are friends for?”

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Brandon turned and looked at me, his eyes shining in the darkness. I knew what he was thinking. He’d been good friends with Jon since they were little. “I’m so sorry,” I said and stared at the floor. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I felt tears welling up in my own. He had to hate me. He’d always been there for Mark and me, but I was surprised he even let me in his car. This was a moment I’d feared, although I’d voiced none of my fears to Mark. “Taylor, I don’t know what happened. I’ve only heard rumors, but I know it was an accident. I know you, and I know Mark. I know neither of you would hurt anyone—not on purpose.” “But I did mean to do it,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt Jon, but I meant to hurt Devon. I meant to kill him for what he’d done to us. I just snapped and then…and then Jon got in the way. He fell to the ground dead. I killed him. I let myself lose control, and I cost Jon his life.” Brandon’s face blanched as he learned the truth. I shuddered and sobbed loudly. Marshall reached over and took my hand. I bawled my eyes out, knowing what Brandon must think of me. I was filled with pain and guilt. I wanted to die. “Mark, tell me the whole story,” said Brandon. “I’ve got to know what happened—one question first, though, which direction?” “South,” said Mark. “South it is,” said Brandon grimly and started the car. Mark told Brandon the whole story, at least the whole story as he knew it. There was a part of the tale even Mark and I had not yet discussed. Mark knew the truth now. I could see it in his eyes as he looked at me. He knew Devon and his buddies had not only beaten me, but raped me. So far, Mark had not spoken of it openly, but I wondered what Mark must think of me. I was humiliated and ashamed. I wanted just to curl up into a ball and cry. Mark had told me he loved me since he’d found out the truth, and I held onto that like a lifeline. The miles rolled by as Mark told his tale. I stared out the window at distant stars, wishing I was in a world where none of this had happened. It seemed that every day my life got a little worse, and I shuddered to think of what was to come. When Mark finished his tale, Brandon looked at me in the rear-view mirror. “Don’t blame yourself, Taylor. Jon wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” “That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but how can I not? Because of me, Jon’s dead. It should never have happened.” I could feel Marshall gazing at me. When I looked over and met his eyes, he looked quickly away. In that fleeting moment I read a look of guilt there I did not understand.

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We stopped in Kokomo at a Burger King for a late supper. Marshall and Brandon went inside to order, and we all ate in the car. Brandon paid. Before we started out again Brandon pulled out his wallet and handed Mark all the cash he had. “I can’t take this,” said Mark. “Yes, you can. You’re going to need it. I’m sorry there isn’t more, but it’s all I’ve got. There’s not quite a hundred dollars there, but at least it’s something.” “Brandon, I…” “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Mark. When I drop you guys off, I’ll drive home and sleep tonight in my own bed. I have my parents to take care of me. I don’t have to worry about having enough to eat. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, and I can’t bear the thought of you…. I’ve already lost one friend and…Just take it, please.” Brandon wiped his eyes. “Thank you, Brandon.” Brandon drove us all the way to Westfield, the far northern suburb of Indianapolis. We parked in a McDonald’s parking lot, got out, and took our backpacks from the trunk of Brandon’s car. Brandon hugged each of us, Mark last of all. “I know you can’t exactly keep in touch with me, but someday, when you can, if you can, let me know where you are. Even if it’s just a postcard, whatever; it doesn’t matter, so long as I know you guys are okay.” “I will,” said Mark, hugging Brandon. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” “I wish…I wish I could do more for you…I…” “You’ve done everything you can, Brandon, more than enough. We’ll never forget this. Now, you’d better get back home. Don’t get yourself into any more trouble than you have to on our account.” They hugged again. “I love you, Mark.” “I love you, too, Brandon.” Brandon climbed back in his car, started it, and drove away. I felt more alone at that moment than I ever had before. Thank God I had Mark and Marshall. “Well, where to?” asked Marshall when Brandon’s taillights had faded from view. “That’s a good question,” said Mark. I think the enormity of our predicament hadn’t truly hit us until just that moment. We had nowhere to go, no direction in life. Our future was completely

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uncertain. We were lost boys with only each other to depend on. At least that was something. I don’t think I could have handled it alone. Mark pulled out a map Brandon had given him. “I think we’d better stay off the main highways or we’ll draw attention. We need to stick to back roads where we’re less likely to be spotted by the cops. I don’t know, I guess…I guess we can head toward Indy. It’s like…twenty miles away. Maybe we can pick up some kind of job there, in some store or someplace where the owner won’t ask too many questions. The money we’ve got isn’t going to last long.” It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all we had. Marshall and I shouldered our backpacks, and we walked across the McDonald’s parking lot, across the street, past a Burger King, a Dairy Queen, then down the sidewalk of a street that would eventually bring us to Indianapolis. I guessed we were truly beginning our adventure at last.

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 The murders were the talk of the school, of course. While the initial news of the killings was talked about in hushed voices, the murders were now hotly and loudly discussed. Everyone knew Mark and Taylor were wanted for the killings, and there was much discussion about their motives and what had really happened. It was common knowledge that Devon hated “the fags” and gave them a rough time, so the motive of Mark and Taylor for killing Devon was clear. I even heard some saying they figured Devon was one of the guys who worked Mark over. The speculation over Jon’s death was more farfetched. I heard rumors during the day of everything from a love triangle with Mark and Taylor to the pair killing him to cover up some more perverse crime. It sickened me and did nothing to ease my grief. Alex, Jeremy, and Rob were the eyewitnesses. All three were bruised and battered as if they’d been in a brawl, so it wasn’t hard to believe they’d been involved. The bullshit story they told was nothing but a pack of lies, however. I stopped in the hallway to hear Rob regale a small group with his version of the story. “Devon, Alex, Jeremy and me were just cruising around, right?” Rob told his breathless audience. “We couldn’t believe it when we saw Mark and Taylor trying to force Jon into a car. I mean, Jon was supposed to be one of their friends, right? He even sat with those faggots at lunch. Anyway, we pull up, stop the car, and get out because Jon is kicking and screaming, and Mark and Taylor are trying to shove him in this car. When Jon spotted us he screamed, ‘Help! They’re trying to kidnap me! They’re gonna rape me!’” Rob paused. His tale infuriated me, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. There were murmurs from Rob’s audience about the “fucking fags” and how all fags

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should be killed. Rob was playing it up big, making Mark and Taylor out as despicable villains. “Devon and I jumped right in to get those faggots off Jon. Jeremy and Alex were right behind us. The fags knew they couldn’t take all of us, so Taylor pulled out this big knife. I jumped towards him, trying to get it away from him before he could use it, but he turned around and stabbed Jon dead, just like that. “Devon went for him, but Mark grabbed the knife and stabbed him right in the heart with it. He said something like, ‘Go to hell, straight boy, we’re gonna kill all you breeders.’ Well, the rest of us pulled back because Mark and Taylor were obviously psycho, and it was too late to save either Jon or Devon. They were both dead. So we went and got the cops, and now they’re looking for those murdering faggots.” “They oughta hang those fags when they catch them,” said someone. There were murmurs of agreement from the little crowd. My eyes met those of Zac, who was standing there, too. He had the biggest smirk on his face. I silently backed away. I didn’t know what had really gone down, but I was certain my friends weren’t trying to kidnap Jon so they could rape him. Rob was obviously lying. Plenty of others were willing to believe the story. If Rob’s tale was any indication, the three eyewitnesses were doing all they could to whip up anti-gay sentiment. There was sure plenty of it going around. Things got nasty in the halls, and anyone even suspected of being queer was treated like dangerous, murdering filth. There was supposedly a plot among the queers to begin killing as many straights as possible. I heard talk demanding blood. Most of my classmates had decided that gays were a dangerous element that had to be stamped out at all costs. The word “alleged” was totally forgotten. Everyone I heard talking assumed Mark and Taylor were guilty. I only thought I’d been afraid of being outed before. Now I was a hundred times more fearful. I’d heard that parents were calling the school, demanding that Mr. Hahn be fired. As far as I knew Mr. Hahn wasn’t gay, but several months back he’d had a pro-gay poster in his room, and some bitch threw a shit fit over it until it was removed. I remembered the poster. It had pictures of Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Michelangelo, Shakespeare, Errol Flynn, Walt Whitman, and other famous figures, even contemporary artists like Elton John. At the bottom was a message that read, “Sexual orientation does not determine a person’s ability to make a mark, let alone make history.” That’s what all the fuss was

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about, and now parents were calling for Mr. Hahn’s dismissal just because he’d once had it in his classroom. How messed up was that? I truly lived in fear. It was far more dangerous to be gay in Verona than it had been just a few days before. I was afraid that if word got out about me, I’d not only be beaten, but lynched. I seriously considered just packing my bags and getting the hell out of Dodge. The problem was that I didn’t have any money and had nowhere to go. I was safe for the time being and would remain so, as long as no one found out about me. I crossed paths with Zac a couple of times after Rob’s storytelling session, and both times he grinned evilly at me. He struck fear into my heart. What if he went back on his promise? I was powerless to stop him, and he could destroy me. Devon was permanently out of the picture now, but Zac was still a danger. My safety was only as good as his word, and I began to fear his word wasn’t worth much. Zac was at my locker waiting on me after school. The mere sight of him standing there was enough to fill me with dread. There were others around, so he was all buddy-buddy with me, but I feared quite a different Zac would reveal himself as soon as they disappeared. I wondered how I could escape from him before that happened. “Hey, Ethan!” It was Brandon. He came hurrying toward me. “Hi, Brandon.” “Hey, we need to talk,” said Brandon seriously. “He can’t right now. He already promised to come home with me and help me with a report,” said Zac. He was lying, of course, and the mere fact he was determined to speak with me frightened me. What was his game? “Well, your report is going to have to wait. This is urgent.” “What’s so urgent?” asked Zac. “It’s none of your business. If you need help with your homework so bad, go ask your girlfriend. Ethan is coming with me.” Zac was clearly pissed off, but did his best not to show it in front of Brandon. I heaved a sigh of relief as Brandon pulled me away. “What’s this about?” I asked as we walked toward the rear entrance to the school. “I’ll tell you when we get to your place. I’ll meet you there, okay?” “Yeah, sure.”

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I was perplexed, but didn’t have much time to think about it before I reached my Ford. I climbed in, started her up, and headed for the farm. Brandon pulled up right behind me when I got there. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said. “I don’t want to take even the slightest chance of someone overhearing this.” “Okay.” Not a word more was said until we’d passed the barn and were in the middle of the now barren fields. A light breeze blew across the landscape, disturbing dried-out corn shucks and a few fallen leaves. “I know what happened to Jon,” said Brandon. I turned my head to face Brandon so quickly I nearly pulled a neck muscle. My lower lip trembled at the mere mention of Jon’s name. “I had a visitor at school yesterday, a messenger from Mark and Taylor asking for my help.” “Are you serious?” “Yeah. They were hiding out in the old Graymoor Mansion. I drove them most of the way to Indy last night, and they told me what happened.” “Tell me!” I said. “Okay, here’s the short version. Mark, Taylor, and Jon were walking when Devon, Alex, Jeremy, and Rob jumped them. Devon pulled out a knife and tried to kill Mark. Mark managed to kick it out of his hand, but a couple of them held Mark while Devon started pounding on him. Taylor grabbed the knife and went for Devon, but right as he swung the knife at him Jon got in the way. Taylor stabbed him instead. It was an accident.” Tears flowed from my eyes as the scene of Jon’s death played out in my mind. I couldn’t hold them back. The pain inside me just came spilling out. Brandon began to weep, too. “Jon told Taylor it wasn’t his fault, then he died. Devon sent Alex running for the cops, but Mark pulled the knife from Jon’s body and killed Devon where he stood. I know you’ve been hearing rumors all day, and I thought you should know the truth.” I nodded. “It makes sense at last. I knew there was no way Mark or Taylor would kill Jon, not on purpose anyway. God, how are they?” “Not so good. Taylor was freaked out over killing Jon. It was an accident, but you can imagine. I’ve got a pretty good idea how I’d feel if it was me.” “Shit. Poor Taylor.” “Yeah. Mark was kind of shook up that he’d killed Devon, but Devon deserved to be killed if anyone did.”

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“That’s sure the truth.” “Anyway, they’re on the run now, and we can only hope they don’t get caught. From what I’ve been hearing lately no one in this town is in mood for a fair trial. Most people have already pronounced them guilty.” “Yes, and it’s open season on gays.” “Yeah, if I was gay I’d sure be in hiding. Mark and Taylor were the only openly gay boys in school, so I guess the rest are safely hidden.” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It wasn’t that I thought Brandon would turn on me if he knew the truth. I knew there was no danger of that. I was so filled with fear I just didn’t know what to say. There was a time, not long ago, when I would’ve thought my troubles would be over if Devon was suddenly eliminated. Sure, Zac could have still outed me, but without the main hate monger around I might have been able to control the situation. Even with Devon gone, there was no chance of that now. Hate was the watchword of the day. Two known homosexuals had murdered two local teens and the stories that were spread, while false, were doing their damage. The whole town was fast being whipped up into a frenzy of retribution and hatred. I was in ten times the danger I had been before. “I can’t believe those fuckers.” Brandon spat on the ground. “If Devon wasn’t dead, I’d kill him myself. I always suspected he was in with the guys who beat up Mark, but Mark would never tell me. Now I know the truth. The guys who jumped Mark, Taylor, and Jon were the same guys who put Mark in the hospital. I’m glad Devon is dead. That piece of shit got what he deserved. I wish they were all dead.” “Be careful, Brandon. Don’t do something you’ll regret later. I think Mark didn’t tell you who beat him because he was afraid you’d seek revenge and get yourself into trouble.” Brandon grinned. “He was right about the revenge part. I got Alex before school this morning. I beat the crap out of that bastard. He cried like a baby. I’m going to get Rob and Jeremy, too. I don’t care how long it takes, but I’m going to make them all pay.” “Brandon, you can’t take on all those guys. What happens when they gang up on you? Everyone knows you’re friends with Mark and Taylor, too. We know the truth about what went down, but to everyone else, they’re just murderers who killed one of their own friends. Things are going to get nasty. Jeremy and the others…they could turn the whole school against you.”

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“Jon is dead because of those bastards! Mark and Taylor are on the run because of them! No, I don’t care what happens to me. I’m gonna make those fuckers pay for what they did!” Brandon was so furious I was almost afraid of him myself. Mark had been right in keeping the identity of his attackers from Brandon. Brandon was bent on revenge. “Listen, Brandon, I know how you feel. Okay, I don’t know exactly how you feel, but Mark and Taylor were, and are, my friends, too. Jon was my best friend. This whole thing is like a nightmare. I’d love to see Alex, Jeremy, and Rob pay for what they did, but don’t take things too far. We’re outnumbered, Brandon. I’ll watch your back. If those guys come after you, I’ll be at your side, but be careful.” “You’re afraid I’m going to kill them, aren’t you?” “Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what I fear. I don’t want to see you throw your life away in the name of revenge.” “It would be worth it, wouldn’t it, to rid the world of those scum?” “If Mark was here right now, he wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t want you to throw away your life.” “Why not? He did. He killed Devon. It wasn’t self-defense, Ethan. He couldn’t take it anymore. He told me himself he couldn’t stand to see Devon win, and so he knifed him.” “I wasn’t there. I don’t know what was going through Mark’s head then, but I do know that he cares about his friends. I care about you, too, and I’m asking you, as a friend, not to take things too far. I can’t stop you from beating the crap out of those guys. I’m not even sure I want to, but as for killing them, that’s just going too far. If you take that step, there’s no turning back. I know they’ve done horrible things, but that doesn’t give you the right to take their lives away. That’s not for you or me to decide. I know you’re angry. I’m angry, too. Don’t do something in the heat of the moment without thinking.” “I’m not a killer,” said Brandon softly. “I want those guys dead. I want to watch them die. Maybe that makes me a bad person, I don’t know. I get what you’re saying, Ethan. I can’t promise you anything. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I am going to make each and every one of them pay, and I don’t care what happens to me as a consequence. This morning, I thought about killing Alex. I could’ve. I had him down on the ground, pounding his face. I thought about wrapping my fingers around his throat and squeezing until I’d squeezed the life out of him, but I didn’t. Like I said, I’m not making any promises, but I think, when it comes right down to it, that I’m not a killer. I’m gonna hurt those guys

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and hurt them bad, but I don’t think I have it in me to kill them. That’s as much as I can give you.” I nodded. “Just think before you act, okay? Think about Mark and think about Taylor. They’re kind and gentle souls. They have enough guilt on their hands right now. They don’t need you adding any more.” Brandon and I talked a good deal longer. When he departed, I felt isolated, alone, and afraid. My only confidants were gone, fugitives I’d likely never see again. I was slowly losing everyone I cared about—Jon, Mark, and Taylor. Brandon was bent on revenge, and I feared what would happen to him as a consequence. What if he took things too far and had to go on the run as well? What if he ended up dead? If things kept going as they had been, I’d have no one left. Knowing the truth didn’t make me feel any better. It only served to sharpen my pain. Jon had been my best friend. I loved him. I was in love with him. Now, he was gone and I’d never see him again. We’d parted on unpleasant terms and that only made it worse. How could I go on living my life knowing that the last time we’d spoken I’d ordered him out of my house and out of my life? Things shouldn’t have ended that way. I wished I could have been there with him at the end. I would’ve held him in my arms and told him I didn’t mean what I’d said. I would have told him I loved him and I’d continue loving him forever. I slowly walked back toward the house and changed into my work clothes. I downed a couple of pills to help ease my pain. I hesitated for a moment, then took another, just in case. I didn’t want Nathan to see me cry so I took my time with my evening chores. I felt comfortable among the chickens, horses, and other farm animals. They wouldn’t judge me for being different. They didn’t care if I was attracted to girls or boys. I was just the guy who fed them, petted them, and took care of them. Except for Brandon and Nathan, they were about the only friends I had left. I dreaded going to school the next day. I didn’t even want to think about it. I wished I could just stay on the farm forever and never leave it again. Maybe that’s what I’d have to do, finish high school as a home-school student or maybe just study for my GED. How much education did I need to be a farmer anyway? I already knew most of what I needed to run the farm. Jack had been teaching me all along. But isolating myself was nothing but a fantasy. Even if I did quit school, I still had to live in this community. I still had to deal with what others thought of me. Bullies like Zac could still come after me. No, I had to face life, even if it promised to be an extremely unpleasant experience.

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A chill wind blew across the barren fields as I approached the fencerow. I felt empty and alone. It was as if the wind had come and swept my life away, but it wasn’t the wind that had done this to me: It was Zac and others like him. I greeted Nathan. He stopped digging and handed the post hole digger to me. He looked sad and lonely, and even his “hello” was faint and insincere. There was a time when Nathan looked up to me, but no more. He didn’t approve of the help I sought from bottles, and, like everyone else, he knew Zac had defeated me. I’m sure he missed Jon, Mark, and Taylor. I worked by Nathan’s side, but there was a distance between us that made him seem almost a stranger. Even with him there, I felt alone. I guessed I’d lost Nathan, too. I should have made my stand against Zac during our championship match. Maybe I could have lived with myself then. Of course, if I had defied and defeated him, Zac would have outed me, and the villagers of Verona would now be out after my blood. I very much feared that was still to come. Perhaps I’d only postponed the inevitable. Zac knew my secret, and he could use it at any time to destroy me. I wished I knew where Mark and Taylor had gone so I could join them, but they’d disappeared into the mists. ✶

✶

✶

✶

When I opened my locker the next morning, there was a note waiting on me. I’d hoped I’d seen the last of such notes, but no such luck. I’d known in my heart it wasn’t over, but I’d hoped and prayed that Zac would keep his word. It had obviously been a false hope and it made the sight of the note all the more depressing and terrifying. I stuffed it into my pocket, walked to the restroom, locked myself in a stall, then opened it.

Meet me after school at your truck. Don’t make any other plans because you’re spending the evening with me. No excuses! Be there, bitch! I tore the note into pieces and flushed it down the toilet, trembling with anger and fear. I wanted nothing more than to beat Zac senseless. He’d tormented me for weeks with his stupid little notes, he’d stolen my championship from me, and he ordered me around like his own personal slave. He’d promised to keep my secret, but his word was apparently worth nothing.

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I’d meet Zac at my truck. I had no choice. I wouldn’t lay a finger on him, as much as I wanted to, because he held my life in his hands. If I wasn’t willing to kill him to silence him, I could do nothing. The school was like an angry-hornets nest. I think I heard the word “faggot” more times during the day than I usually did in a month. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t know that Mark and Taylor had killed Jon and Devon. Devon’s friends were crying out for homosexual blood, and many of Jon’s friends turned against Mark and Taylor, too, even some who had supported the pair after they were outed. History was being rewritten with Mark and Taylor as the despotic villains. It was amazing how people suddenly forgot that Devon was a worthless piece of shit. He’d become a martyr. Suddenly, everyone hated queers. It was Devon who had created the situation. He’d set himself up for his own death. He’d pushed Taylor beyond endurance, and in his fury, Taylor had accidentally killed Jon. Devon was the guilty party. He’d killed Jon, not Taylor. Mark had killed Devon, there was no question of that. He’d killed him, and he meant to do it, but Devon had it coming. He was ultimately to blame. I was glad he was dead, and the world would certainly be a better place without him. But even in death he was a negative force; he’d created a whirlwind of hate. I could almost hear his spirit laughing on the wind. I sat with Brandon again at lunch, along with some of the other jocks. With Mark and Taylor gone, there were no queers left at our table, at least that’s what everyone thought. Some of those who had avoided sitting there now returned. I was least happy about the sudden appearance of Zac. The fucker sat down right next to me and acted as if he was my best friend. I could do nothing but grin and bear it. I’m sure Zac loved every minute of it. I daydreamed about drowning him in his vanilla pudding. I walked toward my truck after school. There would be no Brandon to save me this time. Zac was there waiting on me, leaning against the old Ford. “Hey, Ethan!” he called in greeting and grinned for the benefit of those near. I felt like I was being forced through a crowd with a gun pressed to my back. There was no gun, but Zac had me completely under control. I didn’t dare to even pretend Zac and I weren’t buddies. We climbed into the truck and I pulled out of the parking lot. Zac maintained his charade until our classmates had been left behind, then he turned and sneered at me. “Drive to my house, fag,” he ordered. When we arrived, Zac pulled keys out of his pocket and unlocked the side door.

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“My parents won’t be home until late,” he said. My face blanched with fear. There was only so much he could do to me with his parents at home. Now, there was nothing stopping him. Zac led me up the stairs to his room. Prominently displayed on the top of his bookcase was the trophy that should have been mine. The walls were covered with pages ripped from wrestling magazines and swimsuit issues, along with team photos and certificates of merit. “We had a deal,” I said. “I’m altering it.” “You can’t alter one side of a deal. You said if I let you win you’d keep your mouth shut.” “I’ve been thinking about that. What you say is true, of course, but did you let me win, or did I just beat you?” “I let you win!” “You? Look at yourself. You’re pathetic. I bet you haven’t worked out in weeks. You’re on drugs, aren’t you? Your eyes are all bloodshot, and I know I’ve smelled alcohol on your breath. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” “Shut the fuck up!” I yelled. Zac slugged me. “Don’t you talk to me like that, faggot!” I nearly lunged at him, but held myself in check. “Yeah, that’s right…slave! I fuckin’ own you! Devon’s gone, but you know what? I don’t need him to keep you in line. The rest of his buds are still alive, and there’s even more of them now, thanks to your murdering faggot friends.” “Don’t call them that!” “I’ll call them whatever the fuck I want, and you won’t do shit about it. Look at yourself!” said Zac, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me toward his dresser mirror. “Just look at yourself. See what you’ve become: You’re a fucking loser, Ethan. Whatever you had, it’s gone. Oh, I’ll admit you were good, and I thought I had to blackmail you to beat you, but you beat yourself. You’re a fucking coward. Even if you did throw the match, you did it because you were afraid of what would happen to you. You didn’t have the balls to stand up to me, did you, faggot?” I glared at his reflection in the mirror, but said nothing. “Yeah! You were too fucking afraid to do anything! You’re a pathetic loser! A coward! If I was you, I’d fucking kill myself.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I hated Zac with a vengeance, especially since what he was said was true.

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“Yeah, you know it’s true, don’t you? I beat you. Even if I didn’t beat you on the mat, I beat you and now you’re mine!” “Why are you doing this to me?” I asked. “What have I ever done to you? We’re teammates and I thought we were friends. Teammates are supposed to stick together, to help each other, not turn on each other. Why are you doing this?” “Don’t talk about being my teammate! You don’t deserve to be on the team! You don’t deserve to be one of us! You gave up that right when you became a sniveling coward who tries to drown his troubles in drugs and booze. You’re nothing!” I was near tears. “Do you enjoy humiliating me?” “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I lived in your shadow for far too long, and I derive tremendous satisfaction from seeing you humbled.” “I’m tired of your games. What do you want?” “I want you to kill my parents,” said Zac. My mouth fell open in shock. Zac laughed in my face. “You’re not only a coward, you’re gullible as well.” I shook my head. “I hate you.” “I’m glad to hear it, fag. It makes all this much more satisfying. Now get on your knees.” I didn’t move, so Zac grabbed me by the hair and yanked me down toward the floor. I fell to my knees. “Okay, slave, get to it.” I didn’t move. “Now, faggot or I’ll march right out and tell everyone what I know about you! Do you want that? Do you?” With tears streaming from my eyes I did as I was told. It was all I could do to keep from bawling. I don’t know how long it lasted, but every second was an eternity. Zac called me names and humiliated me. I tried to block out his words, but I couldn’t. What had I become? Zac held onto my head as he finished so I couldn’t pull away. When he was done he shoved me back. I stood up, trying not to face him. He made me look into his eyes. “What’s this?” he said, obscenely groping me. “You get off on this, don’t you, fag? You sick fuck.” I most certainly did not, but what could I say? I started for the door.

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“Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t finished yet.” “But, I…” “Oh no, I’m not done with you yet, faggot. Take off your clothes.” I pulled off my shirt, then my shoes and socks. Next went my jeans, leaving me standing in Zac’s bedroom in just my boxers. Zac stripped as well and I feared I knew what that meant. “Take off your boxers, faggot,” said Zac. He never called me Ethan anymore, unless there was someone around to hear. When we were alone, he used the foulest names possible. “You’re gay, aren’t you?” I said. “What did you say to me, you little fuck?” “You’re gay, otherwise you wouldn’t…” Zac crossed the distance between us in a flash and belted me so hard in the mouth I tasted blood. I grabbed him and very nearly punched him back, but stopped myself at the last second. “If you ever touch me again like that, you fucking faggot, I’ll make you sorry,” growled Zac. “If you even hint that I might be a disgusting, perverted queer like you, I’ll make you scream in pain. I’m not a fag! I get off on using you. You bet I do! I get off on it because it means power. I can make you do it and so I do, but you won’t see me going down on my knees for any guy. Ever!” I wanted to beat him. I wanted to tear him apart. I was so infuriated all I could do was stand there and glare at him while I tried to get my breath under control. “Now, bitch, lay down on the bed!” Zac shoved me face down and climbed on top of me. I tried to blank out my mind completely. I simply couldn’t deal with what was happening. It was too horrible to contemplate. I screamed as Zac entered me and he laughed. “Now you’re really my bitch, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” I buried my head in Zac’s pillow and bit down hard while I tried to withstand the pain and humiliation without screaming further. I didn’t succeed. Zac delighted in my torment. I loathed him with every ounce of my being. When it was over at last, Zac climbed off me, and I slowly pushed myself up off his bed. I turned around and Zac hurled my clothes at me. “Now get out, bitch. I’ll tell you when I want you again.” I kept my mouth shut. I knew if I opened it I’d say something that would earn me a belt in the mouth, or worse. It might have been worth it, but I didn’t think it wise to antagonize Zac. He obviously got off on the power he had over me, and

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the more I fought him, the more he’d be determined to slap me down. I had to bide my time until I could figure a way out. I dressed and departed as quickly as I could, without making it look as if I was bolting. The truth was I wanted to get away from Zac as fast as possible. I feared he might change his mind and want to start all over again. I didn’t cry. I got the hell out of there and walked quickly to the truck. Crying wouldn’t help. My soul was too empty to summon up the emotion. I’d shed too many tears already, over Jon, over…everything. I felt…I wasn’t sure what I felt. I didn’t feel like me anymore. Zac had stolen part of me. He’d forced me to submit my body to him. He hadn’t just used my body, he’d used me. He’d violated me in a way that was almost unimaginable. The psychological pain was unthinkable. Physically, I’d heal. I’d been hurt a lot worse in fights, but this went far beyond that. I didn’t know if I could ever get over what Zac had put me through. He’d violated my dignity by forcing me to submit to him and making me his bitch. Yeah, that’s what I was now; I was nothing more than Zac’s bitch. I fidgeted in the seat as I drove home. I didn’t think Zac had done any permanent damage, but it had hurt like hell and I still felt sore and uncomfortable. I also felt dirty, and it was the kind of dirty that would never wash off. Zac had made me less than I was. He changed me from a person into a thing. I was late getting home, but Jack was too busy to notice. That was a relief. I didn’t want to lie to him, and I sure couldn’t tell him the truth. Yeah, I could just see his face if I told him what was going on. Sorry I was late, but you see, this boy knows I’m gay, so I’m his bitch now and have to do whatever he says or he’ll out me, then my friends will beat me to death. Death was beginning to look better and better. At least it was a quick way out. How long would I be at Zac’s mercy? The rest of high school? How many times would I have to endure the same humiliation I did this afternoon? What would happen if Zac tired of his little game? Would he let me go or throw what was left of me to the wolves? I felt completely powerless. I never thought I’d hate sex, but hate it I did. I’d heard that rape was an act of violence, not sex. I’d never truly understood that until now. There was nothing sexy about what Zac had done to me, nothing pleasurable at all. It was just pain, pain and humiliation. Zac had raped me, pure and simple. He hadn’t physically overpowered me, but anyone who thought I wanted what had happened was out of his mind. Tears formed in my eyes, but I didn’t allow myself to cry. I had no idea how I was going to go on, but what choice did I have? I was trapped in my nightmare of

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a life. Everything had gone straight to hell. The worst part was that things would only get worse. Maybe I’d get lucky and die in my sleep. The light was beginning to fade as I started my chores. There would be no time at all to work on the fencerow before dark. I didn’t mind a little break from that endless task, but I couldn’t let my farm work slip, because Jack depended on me. The chickens clucked happily as I spread out cracked corn for them. They didn’t know how lucky they were. All they had to do was eat and sleep and lay a few eggs. They had no worries. They could spend their days in the warm sun, then return to their comfy nests at night, all snug in the sweet smelling hay. They didn’t even have to worry about ending up in a frying pan. We didn’t eat our chickens. We raised them only for the eggs. Jack said plucking a chicken was too much work and he didn’t see the sense in sacrificing a good layer when store-bought chicken was inexpensive and ready to fry. He was right I supposed, but I also knew Jack was an old softie at heart. We had a couple of old hens that hadn’t laid an egg in months, but they were no closer to going into the frying pan than the others. I filled the chicken waterer, then the water trough shared by the horses, cattle, sheep, and goats. Wuffa and Fairfax whinnied as I hefted a feed bag and began to pour their supper into a trough. I took a few moments to give them a pat and a kind word. It seemed like it had been weeks since I’d had a chance to ride. At least they could run free in the large pasture all they wanted. I moved outside to feed the cattle, sheep, and goats. The grass was fast dying out, so the animals depended more and more on feed. The harvest was done, but each season brought its own kind of farm work. I didn’t mind. I loved to work, to feel my muscles tensing and flexing. I thought of Zac. My body wasn’t my own anymore. I belonged to him. I nearly screamed in frustration. Couldn’t I even keep him out of my mind while I did my chores? I wondered about Zac. I knew he got off on the power he had over me. He reveled in his ability to make me do whatever he wanted. Zac insisted he was straight, but would a straight boy do to another what Zac had done to me? I guess I could understand a hetero being willing to accept a blow from a guy. Boys my age needed it bad, after all, and weren’t likely to get it from a girl. We’d gone way beyond that, however. Would a true hetero do that? Would a straight boy really go that far to establish his dominance and humiliate another? I guess it didn’t matter, but I suspected Zac was bi at least and quite possibly gay. The question was: Could I use that to my advantage? Was I missing something? Was there a way out?

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I was willing to do just about anything to get out from under Zac’s thumb. There was not one damn thing that was good about the situation. I used to dream about having sex and I was sure getting it now, but it wasn’t as I wanted it, not at all. What Zac did to me filled me with a sense of revulsion. Zac had turned sex into something perverted and dirty. I wondered if he wasn’t ruining sex for me permanently. Would I ever be able to make love without remembering what he’d done to me?

SKYE—FALL 1997 I went back to school the day after Landon killed himself. We had a game that evening, and I had to go to school to be eligible to play. Of course, everyone was talking about the incident. Everyone kept asking about the kid who shot Greg and then turned the gun on himself. Not many people knew Landon. The jocks knew him, because he handed us our towels and cleaned up after us, but he was invisible to most everyone else. I quickly grew tired of telling people what’d happened. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to remember. Within a short time, I simply refused to discuss it. I began telling people the police were investigating, and I wasn’t allowed to comment. It was a lie, but it got me out of endlessly recounting events I’d just as soon forget. I was thankful no one had heard me beg Landon for my life. As soon as he shot Greg, everyone scattered. I’d been standing at ground zero, and it was not the place to be. I don’t know what I would’ve done if a bunch of my friends had seen me lose it when Landon put the gun to my head. A few saw him do it, but were too far away to see how badly I was shaking. Greg survived. At first I’d thought Landon had shot him in the heart, but he’d just shot him in the shoulder. I’m sure it was excruciating and it would probably take Greg a long time to recover, but it was way better than being dead. Ben was the lucky one. If he’d been there, Landon would’ve shot him, too. I wished I’d been somewhere else. Talk about bad timing. It could’ve been worse. I think Landon really meant to kill me, but changed his mind at the last moment. I don’t know how he thought letting me live was worse than killing me, but I was sure glad he had a messed-up view of reality. Landon was probably better off dead. He was screwed up in the head, that was for sure. He’d been way too reckless in checking out guys, and I bet he would’ve gone back to it sooner or later. Greg and Ben—or maybe somebody else— - 202 -

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would’ve worked him over for it again. Someone might’ve even done a lot worse to him. Whoever got that kid Oliver was never caught, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if they got Landon, too. It was a dangerous world for us gay boys, and Landon had been stupid—just plain stupid. Taking himself out was probably the brightest idea he’d had in a long time. I did admire Landon for one thing: He came after us. He got tired of the bullshit and set out to make Greg, Ben, and me pay. He had balls, at least. He could’ve killed himself quietly at home, but instead he’d shot Greg and probably scarred me for life. I’d never get the image of him blowing his own head off out of my mind. I’d never forget that gun pressed between my eyes, either. Landon had sure as hell gone out with a bang, no pun intended. Greg probably wouldn’t be back to school for a while, but I planned to take it easy on him when he returned. I wasn’t all that interested in him, and I’d made my point. He was safely under control. He was pretty hot, though, so I might have to demand some service from him as I did from Jimmy. I was content with Jimmy in that department, though. The hottest boy in school was my personal slave. What more could I want? ✶

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I eyed Jimmy, cautiously of course, as we were dressing out for our game. I’d always thought of the male body as a work of art, and Jimmy’s was a masterpiece. His shoulders were broad and beautifully muscled; his pecs were wide, smooth, and bulged just right; his biceps were hard and sculpted, and his abs were perfectly defined. In a word, he was magnificent. I bet sculptors in ancient Greece would’ve fought for the right to immortalize him. I was sure old Leonardo da Vinci would’ve been dying to paint him, too. Leonardo definitely had a thing for beautiful boys. I didn’t know much about history, but I knew that much. I bet he would’ve painted Jimmy and me together. I never understood why all guys didn’t keep themselves in shape. Working out as Jimmy and I did took dedication, but even guys who weren’t all that built could be hot as hell. All a guy needed to do to look good was to keep off the fat and just work out a little. Was it so hard? Last summer, I’d seen Tony Paulik playing soccer in the park. He wasn’t built at all, but he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He was lean and taut, and what little muscle he did have was well defined. He was hot, and I bet he couldn’t have bench pressed a hundred pounds. He obviously worked out very little, if at all. Why weren’t more guys like that?

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Thinking of Tony’s sexy body and looking at Jimmy aroused me. I almost couldn’t look at Jimmy as he was pulling on his pads. It made him look so fucking hot. I turned my attention to putting on my own uniform and caught Jimmy’s eyes and motioned with my head to let him know I wanted to talk. We grabbed our helmets and walked toward the field together. Damn, he looked good in that uniform. “I want to see you right after the game,” I said. “I’m gonna need a blow.” “What the fuck? Are you queer or something, Skye?” I whipped around, grabbed a handful of Jimmy’s jersey, and punched him hard in the gut. He grunted and doubled over. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again, bitch. I own you. I’m not queer. You’re the one sucking dick. Don’t you ever forget that! I’ve got it on tape, too, you faggot. I’m a normal teenaged guy. We all want head. The only difference between me and the other guys is I’ve got a little bitch who has to do what I say. You, on the other hand, well, I think you like it. You’re too damned good at it not to be enjoying it. I bet you get off on it. You’re probably thrilled I make you do it, because then you can suck dick and still tell yourself you’re not queer.” “I’m not a fag,” said Jimmy, grinding his teeth. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Jimmy, and maybe someday you’ll believe it. The whole time I’ve known you you’ve talked about faggots and how much you hate them—how much they disgust you. Well, I think you protest just a little too much. You pretend to hate queers because you’re a big old homo yourself, and you’re just afraid for anyone to find out about it.” “I’m not a fag!” “Well, it doesn’t matter to me, because no matter what you are, you’re my bitch and you’re gonna do what I tell you. You’re meeting me after the game this evening, and you’re meeting me at closing at the gym every night from now on.” “Every night?” “Yeah, you have a problem with that? You’ve got a talented mouth and I intend to make use of it, and don’t even pretend you wouldn’t do the same to me if you had something on me.” We were nearing the field and inquisitive ears, so that was the end of our private discussion. Jimmy was a wild stallion, difficult to tame, but I’d break him or destroy him. The choice was his. He’d already submitted to me, so I doubted he’d give me any serious trouble. He was just biting at the bit to show me he wasn’t going down easy and to prove to himself that he wasn’t submitting of his own free will.

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I seriously doubted he was queer, but hurling accusations at him was a good way to keep him off balance. Even if he found out I was gay, he couldn’t do shit about it. If he tried to out me, I’d show the tape of him getting it on with Greg and that’d be the end of him. He’d likely be found hanging from a tree somewhere. Jeremy only played the first quarter. He pulled a hamstring near the end of it, and that was that for Jeremy. Coach was about to motion Jimmy onto the field when I leaned over and whispered to Jimmy to pretend he had a serious stomach ache. He was a damned good actor, clutching his stomach as he ran toward Coach, a look of real pain on his face. In moments Jimmy was heading back for the bench. I was finally going to be the quarterback in a real game. I felt like a god as I ran out onto the field with the crowd cheering. I was popular, so my mere presence on the field caused a stir in the crowd. I felt like one of those Greek heroes taking the field at the beginning of a big battle. Sorry I can’t give you any names, but give me a break; I’m a jock, not a geek. At least I know who Leonardo da Vinci was, right? What a rush! I set up the play, and my men took the field. I got into position and made ready to destroy the enemy. Jimmy was probably fuming that I’d taken his spot, but I was every bit as good as he was, and probably better. It was my rightful place, anyway. He’d just have to get used to taking the backseat to me, because he was going to be doing it all through high school. The Badgers weren’t the toughest team around, but they were no pushover either. Ben had scored a touchdown near the end of the first quarter so we were up 7-0. I intended to maintain our lead. I was all business on the field. The second quarter didn’t start out so well. I was sacked on the first series, although it wasn’t my fault. Glen and Alex, who play right guard and right tackle, had their heads up their asses and let not one, but two, Badgers through our offensive line. Coach was not happy and jumped all over them for it. The next play went smoothly. I threw a screen pass to Ben, and he picked up eighteen yards and a first down before a couple of Badgers tackled him. Ben was an excellent receiver but a cocky little bastard, and I kind of enjoyed seeing him go down, although I would’ve rather seen him score again. Ben fumbled on the next play after hauling in a pass over the middle. Okay, maybe he wasn’t such a great receiver, or maybe he was and he just messed up. My pass was near perfect. I dropped the ball right in his hands, but he let it slip away after taking a couple of steps. A Badger free safety nearly came up with it, but Ben recovered his own fumble. I felt like pounding him for being so careless with one of my passes.

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I faked a pass to Ben on the next play. I knew the Badgers would think for sure I’d throw to him again; instead, I eluded one of their blitzing linebackers and tore down the field like a bat out of hell. I would’ve made it if I could’ve zigzagged past one last defensive back. His positioning was just too good. I tried, but just couldn’t get around him. There was no shame in that, because I’d picked up 40 yards on the play, and we were now at the Badger six-yard line. I scored a touchdown on the next play. I’d planned to pass to Ben, but the other team anticipated that again, and he couldn’t get clear. An opening presented itself, so I tucked the ball against my torso, lowered my shoulder, and bulled into the end zone, dragging three Badger defenders with me. I was just sure I’d get taken down, but every defender who lunged for me missed by a hair. I knocked one opponent on his ass and just kept on grinding, and my determination paid off. The crowd jumped to their feet, letting the blankets they’d been huddled in fall to the stands. I let the sound of their cheers wash over me, basking in it. Just running out on the field had been a rush, but this…Well, I really did feel like a god. I just stood there, the breath from my nostrils fogging the air like steam from a dragon. I felt that powerful. Yeah, I know my touchdown was a team effort and the crowd was cheering for my teammates, too. But it was directed at me, I’m the one who got to feel the energy of their adulation, and it was tremendous. All those fans cheering for me was even better than the endorphin rush I felt when lifting weights. This was what life was all about. The Badgers scored on us, but only twice. I scored another rushing touchdown and passed for three more and we ended up with a 48-13 win. The guys even carried me off the field on their shoulders! I was in heaven. In the showers, guys were slapping me on the back and congratulating me. Jimmy was a bit surly, but that was his problem. I just closed my eyes and let the hot water beat down on my muscles. I looked around the showers, taking stock of the others. I was definitely the best built, except for Jimmy. Jeremy came kind of close to me as far as biceps were concerned, but even his weren’t as developed. And I’d done it all without steroids. Jimmy had been on ‘roids a long time to achieve his physique, but I’d put him in his place. The same drugs that built him up put him under my thumb. It was like some kind of cosmic justice or something. I rinsed off, got myself a towel from the stack—we had no towel boy anymore—then dried off and dressed in the locker room. It was kind of sad to have

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to put away my jersey, but it was grimy and had to go in the wash, no doubt about it. I told Jimmy to follow me in his truck. I drove out to the graveyard and parked in an isolated spot. I climbed into his truck, unzipped my jeans, and pushed both my jeans and boxers down to my ankles. Jimmy didn’t have to be told what to do. He knew what was expected of him. I ran my fingers through Jimmy’s blond hair as his head bobbed up and down in my lap. First, a win with me as quarterback and now head from the hottest guy in school—what a night! I finished way too fast. I was just too worked up. In the future, I was going to concentrate and improve my control, but it was hard not getting excited when Jimmy was going down on me. The mere thought was nearly enough to make me lose control. Once I was done with him, I pulled up my boxers and pants and climbed out of his truck. I jumped into my Cutlass and headed for home. Poor Jimmy, he’d fallen from such a height. He’d gone from Alpha male to Skye’s bitch. Of course, other than Jimmy, Greg, and me, no one knew it. I think the guys were catching on that something had changed. We didn’t parade it, but Jimmy was obviously deferring to me now. I showed him respect in front of the others, but I think they could all tell by body language and the tone of our voices that the balance of power had shifted.

TAYLOR—DECEMBER 1980 “Owww,” I said, wincing. “Sorry,” said Mark. “It’s okay, it just hurts.” Mark was cutting my hair with his pocket knife. At least it was good and sharp. He was doing his best not to pull my hair, but it wasn’t easy. He basically had to saw it off. We’d decided that my hair was too much of a giveaway, so it had to go. I felt like crying as I watched the long, blond strands fall to the ground, but I think Mark was more upset than I was. It was mid-morning. We’d walked through most of the night, then hidden ourselves in the midst of some trees not far from the road. The street we’d set out on had turned into nothing more than a back road after a few blocks, which was fine by us. There wasn’t much traffic on the road, so it suited us well. Every time a vehicle came along, we scurried out of sight, just in case. Highway 31 would’ve been a quicker route, but it was too heavily traveled and patrolled. Speed was not of the essence anyway, as long as we could make it to somewhere we could get a job before our money ran out. We’d spent a cold and uncomfortable early morning sleeping on the ground, huddled together for warmth. We awakened, had a meager breakfast of Pop Tarts, then Marshall pointed out how my hair made me easy to identify. The morning sun felt good on my back as I stood under the trees. The leaves were gone, and the limbs reached for the warmth like so many tiny fingers. Mark cut my hair short, shorter than his. My hair probably hadn’t been so short since I was a year old. After what seemed like a painful eternity, he stopped, stepped back, and admired his handiwork. “Not bad,” said Marshall. “It’s a bit rough, but it’ll look just fine in a few days.” “It’s the best I could do.” - 208 -

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“How bad do I really look?” I asked. “Actually, you look amazingly good, considering all Mark had to cut your hair with was a pocket knife.” I didn’t know if he was telling the truth or merely trying to make me feel better about the situation. I had no way of knowing since I didn’t have a mirror and there wasn’t so much as a pond for me to gaze at myself in. I guess my personal appearance was the least of my worries, though. “Do you still love me?” I asked Mark. “What a truly stupid question,” said Mark. “Of course, I love you, Taylor. I’m in love with you, not your hair.” Mark leaned in close, “Although I am rather fond of several of your other physical features.” He smiled and kissed me. “This feels really weird,” I said, rubbing my hand over the back of my head where my hair used to be. “It’s the perfect disguise,” said Marshall, “although maybe we should dye it black when we get the chance.” “Gee, now the back of my neck is cold. How do you guys with short hair stand it?” “You’ll get used to it, Tay,” said Mark. “So what’s the plan for today?” I asked. “Hide out until it gets dark, then walk all night I suppose,” said Marshall. “I never thought I’d miss school,” said Mark. We lay on our backs in the grass, letting the sun warm us. The chill actually began to leave my body. I wished summer was near at hand instead of winter, but things don’t always work out the way you want them to. I could think of a whole lot of things I wanted to change about the recent past and the present. “Just think,” I said, “this all started because we forgot to lock a door.” “Huh?” said Marshall. “Mark and I were making love in his bedroom. We thought his parents were gone for a few hours, but they came back sooner than expected, and Mark’s dad walked in on us going at it.” “That was the worst day of my life,” said Mark, “up to that point anyway. I’ve had lots worse since.” “Me, too,” I said. “Anyway, Mark’s dad called our soccer coach, and he outed us to the whole team. Devon and some of the others hated us from that point on, and that led to what just happened in Verona. So here we all are, in this fix because we forgot to lock a door.” “I guess you could look at it that way,” said Marshall. “There are plenty of ways to look at it, though.”

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We lay there and talked about nothing for quite a while. We were trying to adjust our sleep pattern and get used to sleeping during the day and being awake during the night, but it wasn’t easy. I fell asleep fast enough after we’d been walking most of the night, but I found it difficult to sleep now that I wasn’t so tired. Mostly, we just lay there and gazed at the fluffy white clouds in the blue sky. I fell asleep at some point or other, because I eventually woke up in the late afternoon sun. Mark lay awake beside me, and Marshall was snoozing not far off. I scooted up close to Mark, and we nuzzled our noses together. That immediately led to some serious making out. I wanted Mark so bad just then that I was about to explode, but it was too risky with Marshall sleeping just a few feet away. It was a bit chilly, too, but not bad at all in the sunlight. We made out and let our hands roam. We’d taken off our leather jackets before falling asleep, but were still wearing plenty of clothes. It didn’t matter. All that was important is that I was with Mark. Besides, I could feel his muscles even through his shirt, a sweatshirt, and a sweater. We were startled when Marshall cleared his throat behind us. “Um, if you guys don’t mind, I thought I’d take a little walk. I enjoy your company, but I could really use a little alone time. If you need me, I’ll be over in that direction. I think I’ll need to be alone for at least…an hour.” Mark and I both grinned. “Thanks, Marshall.” “Oh, and I tend to whistle when I walk alone, so I’m sure you’ll hear me coming when I return.” Marshall walked away, whistling an eerie tune. Mark and I both laughed. “So we’ve got at least an hour,” I said. Mark began to rip off my clothes and I attacked him with equal passion. Mark engulfed me, but his lips didn’t linger long on any part of my body. He was all over me, and it made me feel attractive and desirable. I winced now and then from my many bruises, but the pleasure more than outweighed the pain. After a while, I pushed Mark off and explored his muscular body with the same intensity he had mine. Finally, I couldn’t wait anymore; I pushed Mark over onto his stomach and entered him. It was pure bliss. Mark and I often took turns, but he was more often on the bottom. None of our friends had ever dared ask about such an intimate detail, but I was willing to bet they all thought it was the other way around. Mark and I loved each other. That’s what mattered. We didn’t have just sex; we made love. Even when we were going at it hard and rough, it was still love-

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making, because we cared about each other. We both got more satisfaction out of the other’s pleasure than we did our own. We used up our entire hour. Just to be on the safe side, we slipped back into our boxers and jeans before Marshall was due to arrive. We also put on our socks and shoes because our feet were getting cold. Even though the air was chilly, we left our shirts off for a little while longer. I loved the sight of Mark’s bare chest. I could just gaze at him for hours or trace the muscles of his torso with my fingers and lips. We both loved to neck with our bare chests pressed together. Sometimes that was the sexiest thing of all. Once we’d calmed down, we discovered it was too chilly to go shirtless, so we pulled on our shirts, then yet more layers of clothing. We sat near each other on the grass and held hands. “Taylor, there’s something we need to talk about. I know you don’t want to, but…I think there are some things that need to be said.” My face paled. This was the moment I’d dreaded. I looked down at the grass, no longer able to look my boyfriend in the eyes. “Okay,” I said quietly. “I want you to be truthful with me, Taylor, not that I expect you to be otherwise, but I know that talking about this will hurt.” I nodded, still without looking at him. “Was Devon telling the truth? Did he and the others rape you?” I drew in a shuddering breath and began to cry. “Yes,” I croaked. Mark drew me to him and hugged me. He held me as I cried and petted my short hair. “I’m so sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t do anything more than cry for quite a while. At last my sobs stilled. I held onto Mark tightly. “I didn’t want you to know,” I said into his shoulder. “I feel so nasty and ashamed.” “Taylor, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. Look at me. Look me in the eyes, Taylor.” I did as he asked, although it was difficult. I couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a fraction of a second before I had to look away again. “Look at me, Taylor.” I looked into his eyes again and forced myself not to look away. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Mark repeated. “I’m sure you tried to fight them off, but there were four of them and one of you. Believe me, I know what that’s like. I’m sure they would’ve done the same thing to me if they’d gotten hold of me again. I just barely escaped it the first time. Devon was a sick bas-

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tard. He’s the one who should have been ashamed. All of them should be ashamed, but not you.” “I just feel so…dirty,” I said. “Taylor, you’re not dirty. You’re wonderful and beautiful and I love you with all my heart. What happened doesn’t change the way I feel about you, not one bit.” “But you’ll always know what they did to me. You’ll always know they had me. I passed out when Devon was raping me, but he said they all took a turn, every one of them! I don’t know how you can make love to me, knowing what they did.” “I’ve already made love to you more than once since then, haven’t I?” said Mark. “Did I seem reluctant? Hell no, I didn’t! Even though we just finished, the only thing keeping me from making love to you again is the fact Marshall will be back soon. You are the most desirable boy in the world, Taylor. What happened changes nothing. Your short hair changes nothing. Don’t you realize that I love you, all of you? I was first attracted by your looks. When I set eyes on you I thought, ‘He’s the most beautiful boy in the entire world,’ but then I got to know you and realized you were even more beautiful on the inside. You’re kind and loving and considerate and…well, you’re just wonderful is all! I’m very, very sorry that you had to endure what Devon and the others did to you, but don’t you think for one moment that it changes the way I feel about you. I’ll always love you, Taylor, always!” I hugged him tightly and cried with relief. When my eyes met his once more I was smiling. At that moment, I felt like I could face anything. True to his word, Marshall whistled his way back to us. “Enjoy your time alone?” asked Mark, mischievously. “Not as much as you did I’m sure,” he said and grinned. “I bet you guys are ready to sleep again.” “I am a bit tired,” I said. “I have no idea why.” Marshall laughed. We all lay down once more and tried to sleep.

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 Kim slowly lost interest in me after my defeat. She didn’t dump me on the spot or anything like that, but I figured it was coming. She was much less excited to see me. She didn’t call as often, and her pride in me had obviously diminished. I guess I should have been happy that her interest in me was flagging, but it was a reminder that I was nothing more than a has-been. I had to face the fact that I’d peaked, and it was going to be all downhill from now on. Zac was as nice as he could be to me when anyone else was around. He loved playing the generous and sympathetic victor. He went out of his way to say what an honor it was to win, because I was such an incredible wrestler and how he was surprised he’d managed to pull it off. I was forced to accept his fake praise or risk looking like a sore loser. When we were alone Zac lived for whispering “loser” to me. I wanted to beat him senseless, but I could do nothing. My status at school was largely unchanged. I was second best, but everyone knew I was still a damn good wrestler. Steve hadn’t even come close to making it to the finals, and I still had a great deal of respect for his wrestling skills, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that others still admired mine. I didn’t need to be the best to feel confident about what I could do on the mat. Throwing the match wounded me deeply in other ways, however—ways that mattered far more than my opinion of my own athletic prowess. Zac had taken a lot more away from me than the title, and he knew it. ✶

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Early Saturday morning I was in the barn cleaning out the horse stalls when I heard something overhead. I didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t sound like a barn noise to me; it wasn’t a pigeon, nor an owl or any other animal noise I could imagine. I put down the pitchfork and climbed the ladder into the loft. I stepped - 213 -

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out onto the carpeting of hay and found a startled Nathan looking up at me. It was clear he’d spent the night there. His little brother was still fast asleep, nestled in some blankets up against the hay bales. Nathan looked at me with fear in his eyes—the fear of discovery. “What are you doing up here, Nathan?” “We were, uh, just kind of camping out.” I could tell Nathan was very frightened and nervous. He wasn’t frightened of me, however. Well, not much. He seemed just plain scared of everything. I remembered how he’d been so edgy the last few days. “You can tell me the truth, Nathan. It’s me, Ethan. When was the last time you went home?’ I knew he didn’t want to answer, but I didn’t let him off the hook. If he was too scared to go home, he needed my help. Letting him keep his secret wouldn’t help him. It would only allow what was going on to continue. “Tell me,” I said firmly. “Four days.” The panic in his eyes was frightening. “Four days?” I asked incredulously. “Yes,” said Nathan. “Four days.” “What happened, Nathan? Why can’t you go home?” He looked away and wouldn’t answer. He looked at his little brother sleeping and almost cried. I walked over to Nathan, sat down beside him, and took his chin in my hand. I gently but firmly made him look into my eyes. “Tell me, Nathan. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” “You can’t!” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “You can’t help me, Ethan.” “Tell me. Has someone been hurting you? Has someone been doing something to you? Your dad?” Nathan was still sobbing. I wanted to let up and leave him be. I knew my questions were hurting him. I also knew that stopping wasn’t the right thing to do. I had to find out what was wrong. “Tell me.” “Not my dad,” he said, “although he doesn’t do anything to stop it.” “Who?” “My mom.” “What does she do, Nathan? Does she hit you?” “Sometimes, but that’s not it. She makes me…she makes me do things,” said Nathan in a hoarse whisper, as if the words were too terrible to speak out loud.

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Nathan started bawling. I knew I was on top of a secret he’d been keeping for as long as I’d known him and probably a good deal longer. I knew he was on the brink. “What, Nathan, what does she make you do?” “I had to get out of there. I had to get Dave out of there.” “Nathan, tell me so I can help you.” “No! I’m not telling you any more! Why should I? Huh? You can’t even deal with your own problems. How are you going to help me with mine?” “What are you talking about?” “The drugs! You’re high most of the time now! You’re high right now, aren’t you? Don’t bother to deny it. Maybe no one else notices, but I do!” “I just use the pills to take the edge off. I’ve got big problems, Nathan.” “Liar! You aren’t just taking the edge off; you’re trying to escape by keeping yourself high. I never thought I’d see you like this, Ethan! Never! So, why don’t you just go crawl back into that little bottle of pills of yours and keep your nose out of my business!” I was beginning to lose my temper. “How dare you talk to me like that? I’m trying to help you!” “You can’t help me, Ethan. You can’t help anyone until you help yourself.” Nathan woke up his little brother. “Come on, Dave, let’s get out of here.” “Nathan…” “No.” I put my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Don’t touch me!” I recoiled from him in shock. Dave stared at me with his big eyes. “Goodbye, Ethan,” said Nathan with finality. I just stood there and watched Nathan and Dave climb down the ladder. I should have tried to stop them, but what could I do, what could I say? It was probably the biggest mistake of my life, but I didn’t realize it until the next day. ✶

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I didn’t see Nathan in the halls at school the next day, nor the day after. That wasn’t unusual in itself. On some days our paths crossed and on others they didn’t. He didn’t show up for lunch, however, and that never happened unless he wasn’t in school. What’s more, he didn’t show up for work, either. My worry over Nathan grew daily. I knew things weren’t good at home for him. He’d told me that much. What he had hinted at was truly disturbing.

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I wished he’d accepted my offer of help instead of throwing it back in my face. I didn’t appreciate what he’d said, and it angered me. There I was offering to help him deal with a bad situation, and instead of even letting me try, he went off on me, as if I was the one who’d done something to him. If Nathan had been anyone else, I think I would’ve just told him to fuck off, but I cared about him, perhaps more than I realized. What was it they said about not really appreciating something until it’s gone? It was like that with Nathan. I enjoyed working side by side with him. I got pleasure from his companionship and friendship. I never realized, however, how much he’d come to mean to me. Despite all his problems, he cared about mine, and now it looked like he might be gone for good. I prayed he would return, but I wasn’t hopeful. I began popping pills a little more often. As Austin said, they weren’t addictive. It’s not like I was shooting up heroin or something. I wasn’t stupid; I just needed something to help me deal with my life. Austin had probably done me a favor by giving me the pills inside of buying me beer as I’d asked. People who drank alcohol to escape often ended up with a real problem. Yeah, I was drinking a little, but mostly I stuck with the pills. They were different. When everything settled down I wouldn’t need them anymore. Unfortunately, it looked as if things would never settle down. Zac would never let me go. For the third day in a row there was no sign of Nathan. I thought about going to his house, but I realized I had no idea where he lived. I supposed I could find out, but what would going there solve? My chance to help Nathan had come and gone. I’d failed—miserably.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I walked Marty to school. I was sure he wanted to hold my hand as badly as I wanted to hold his, but we didn’t dare. I’d kissed him in his room before we departed, and that would have to be enough for us both until we could be alone again. We hadn’t discussed it, but we both knew it was far too dangerous to take any risks. I felt a twinge of guilt, as if I was cheating on Nick, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t the same Sean anymore. I’d been uprooted, ripped from one life and shoved into another, and I had to make the best of it. I could spend my time mourning what I’d lost, or I could try to get along and enjoy what was good in this life. Beyond all hope, Marty was alive, and he was my boyfriend. I knew Nick would want me to be happy, because that’s what I wanted for him. I didn’t even know if Nick existed anymore. All I knew was that Nick wasn’t here and probably never would be. I needed to live my life and not dwell on what had once been. That didn’t mean I’d forget Nick, I’d never forget him, but I had to face reality and live my life as best I could. My new world was not the same as the old. Marty and I could not be an out couple as Nick and I had been. We couldn’t be out at all. There was no gay-youth center here; there was no Ethan or Nathan to help gay kids and no Coach Brewer to stand as an example of how admirable a gay man can be. Skye was not fighting on behalf of gay boys, and prejudice and hatred were the watchwords of the day. I felt a bit like George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life, only I wasn’t viewing a world without myself in it; rather, it was a world altered by Marshall and the unknown consequences of what he did. It wasn’t all bad; some of it was wonderful in fact, but I knew all was not as it was meant to be. I was so elated over my relationship with Marty that even the icy stares of Zoë didn’t have quite the same effect as the day before. I needed to set things right with her, though, and the sooner the better. - 217 -

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Happiness ignited in my heart whenever my path crossed that of Marty. It was all I could do to keep from holding his hand across the table at lunch, but I didn’t have a death wish. I had Marty to think of, too. I was far more concerned with his welfare than my own, and the last thing I wanted was for anyone to figure out he was gay. I was determined to keep his secret at all costs. Ken Clark looked at me throughout lunch again. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. I didn’t want to encourage him, but I didn’t want to hurt him either. I was also fearful that he might be giving himself away. I felt as if I should say something to him about it, but what? Ken was an unknown variable. My instinct told me he was gay, but he obviously wasn’t the out, militant, gay-rights activist from my old life. He was in hiding like all of us, and that was probably best. How could I discourage him without hurting him or telling him too much? Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t I have ended up in some alternative-reality paradise where there was no prejudice or hate? I’d never understood either one. People disguised their prejudice and hatred with religion, claiming to love the sinner and hate the sin, thereby branding anyone the least bit different as a sinner and giving themselves an excuse to hate at will. No matter how they tried to hide their hatred, it still remained an evil and base emotion that could do nothing but cause harm. Love the sinner and hate the sin—yeah, right! The emphasis was on hate; the love part was merely justification. I find it quite ironic that fundamentalist religions use lies, emotional and physical abuse, violence, and discrimination all in the name of God. It astounded me how they could balance such a contradiction in their own minds—performing evil while claiming to fight it. Perhaps they didn’t; perhaps they knew they were in the wrong and merely used religion as an excuse to abuse others. Why was the world filled with such hypocrites as these? I hoped that God really would forgive everyone for their sins, because the self-righteous, bigoted abusers of religion would need that forgiveness the most of all. I’d done it again. I’m jumped up on my mental soapbox and began preaching to myself. I guess I did it out of a sense of frustration. I truly wanted everyone to be happy and get as much out of life as possible, and it angered me to see people failing to help each other and, worse, actively trying to harm others. I drove the thoughts from my mind before they depressed me. I thought about Marty a great deal during the day. I’d missed the emotional and physical closeness I’d had with Nick. My emotional bond with Marty was strong. I didn’t even have to be near him to feel it. I could sense his love for me wherever he might be. I found myself craving his touch and his body. We’d done no more than kiss in either of my realities, and I yearned for more. I wanted to

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take it slowly with Marty, but was it really necessary? Why not dive right in? My body earnestly agreed.

SKYE—FALL 1997 I was treated like a hero the day after our victory over the Badgers. I’d subbed in as quarterback several times in the past, but never for almost an entire game. Most of my classmates acted as if I’d won the game single-handed. It was as much of a rush as scoring a touchdown! So this is what I can look forward to next season, I thought. I couldn’t wait. Damn! Next year I’d truly have it all. I was damned close now, and I was enjoying every second of it. My life was so incredible it was almost scary. I wasn’t going to be frightened by good fortune, however. Hell, I’d made this happen. I’m the one who worked out like mad, and I’m the one who was smart enough to topple Jimmy from his spot as top dog. I deserved this. Jeremy was okay with sharing the spotlight. He was a team player and major football freak. I knew he would have rather been out there leading the fight himself, but because he couldn’t, he was happy to have me take over, especially considering that I’d won. Jimmy was not pleased. In fact, he was fuming. He didn’t dare lash out at me, but he was obviously pissed off that I’d forced him to fake an illness. He was just going to have to get used to it. I wouldn’t shove him out of the way all the time. I wanted him to get that football scholarship, after all, but I also intended to lock up the quarterback position for myself. It was too damned valuable not to do everything I could to grab it. My day was near perfect, as was practice, then work. It was so perfect that you’d be bored out of your mind if I told you about it. Jimmy showed up at about half past nine to do his duty as ordered. I was in desperate need and the place was empty, so I closed up half an hour early. Jimmy was growing more accomplished every time he got down on his knees. I was increasing my control, so I was able to prolong the enjoyment for a good, long time. When I finally did

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cut loose, the feeling of release was all the more exquisite. My moans filled the locker room. My perfect day fell in ruin when I arrived home. The first hint that something was up was Josh’s car in the driveway. I wondered why he didn’t just return to the gym if he wanted to see me. Perhaps he was after a piece of my mom’s chocolate cake. Josh was crazy about it. He never turned it down, and I’d arrived home on more than one occasion after school to find him in the kitchen eating cake and talking to mom. There was no sign of anyone in the living room, so I walked into the kitchen. It was empty. A queer feeling fell on me, but I didn’t think much of it. I took a few slugs of milk from the carton and made for my room. I hoped Josh wasn’t messing around on my computer. I was always careful to keep anything the least bit gay hidden, but what if I’d forgotten to delete my internet history or something like that? The last thing I wanted Josh to find out was that his best friend was gay. That could end things between us real fast, and, worse, he might talk. My room was bathed in darkness. I flipped on the light—no sign of Josh. I scratched my head. This is getting weird. Where the hell could he be? I turned and walked towards Mom’s room. Perhaps she could tell me why Josh’s car was in the drive. Her door was slightly ajar so I pushed it open. “Hey, Mom, have you…what the fuck?” My voice raised an octave as I spoke. My mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of Josh’s nude buttocks thrusting toward my mother as she lay on her bed. Josh jumped up and whipped around at the sound of my voice. He was completely naked. I didn’t want to see anymore. What I’d seen already was enough to scar me for life. In a way, it was almost worse than seeing Landon blow his brains out. I turned quickly and ran down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen. I braced myself against the sink as my mind reeled. A few moments later I heard footsteps running down the hallway, across the living room, and out the front door. I caught a glimpse of a shirtless Josh jumping in his car. He took off as if the cops were after him. I just stood there in a daze. Mom and my best friend: How could this be possible? I was in a state of complete shock. I don’t know how much time passed, probably only a couple of minutes, but I heard my mom coming toward the kitchen. She entered moments later wearing her long robe. I tried not to stare at her. Mom didn’t look at me; she just walked to the coffee pot, filled it with water, put in a new filter, a couple of scoops of coffee, and turned it on. “Mom?”

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“My coffee will be finished in just a couple of minutes. Would you like anything?” “An explanation, perhaps?” I said, sarcastically. “Don’t get smart. We’re going to talk about this, but I need my coffee to calm my nerves.” I took a glass from the cabinet, filled it with ice, then emptied a can of Diet Coke into it. I usually just drank it straight from the can, but I needed something, anything, to do to fill those awkward moments. I sipped my Coke and looked out the kitchen window. “Have a seat, Skye,” said my mom a few minutes later, filling her cup with steaming coffee. The aroma wafted over the table as we both sat. I’d always loved the smell of coffee, but hated the taste. “I’m sorry you had to find out about this,” said Mom. “So you intended to just keep fucking my best friend behind my back?” “Watch your mouth, Skye.” “Sorry.” “I was afraid that if you knew the truth you’d be hurt, and the last thing I want to do is hurt my son. That’s why I’ve kept it a secret from you. We all have our secrets, don’t we, Skye?” Mom was gazing at me as if she could see inside me. I feared for a few moments that she knew I wasn’t like other boys. I refused to be distracted, however. “But my best friend? He’s my age—sixteen! He’s young enough to be your son!” “I don’t see where age has anything to do with this.” “Is this because of Dad? Did you start fu…seeing a young guy because Dad ran off with that teenaged girl?” Mom crossed her arms for a moment and looked thoughtful. “Maybe that’s a part of it, but there’s a lot more to it than that.” “How long has this been going on, Mom?” “Since about a month after your father left us.” “Two years?” I asked incredulously. “Mom! You and Josh were…when he was fourteen? That’s illegal!” “I’m not proud of what happened, Skye, but once it started…” “Who started it? What happened? What’d you do, ask him if he’d like a piece of cake and a piece of ass?” “Don’t be so vulgar, Skye.” “Are you going to answer me or not?”

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“You know, Skye, this is my private life we’re discussing. I don’t have to tell you anything. It isn’t right for a mother to be discussing her sex life with her son.” “Well, it’s not right for a mother to have sex with her son’s fourteen-year-old best friend!” “It happened one afternoon when Josh was visiting you. The two of you had been lifting weights in your room with that old weight set you used to have. Your girlfriend called with some big emergency—I don’t remember her name—and you tore out of here. Josh was going to leave, but we got to talking, so he stayed. We ended up sitting here at the kitchen table. He was having a slice of cake and a glass of milk. He still had his shirt off and, despite his age, was very sexy.” I closed my eyes for a moment. I did not want to hear my mom talk about Josh like this, but I needed to know what happened. “We were just talking. He told me how he’d always thought I was beautiful. I don’t know; I guess I just needed to hear that from a man—well, a boy in this case—but I was feeling down and unattractive. When your father ran off with that girl…well, I can’t explain how it made me feel, but it hurt. Josh was kind to me. He sensed I was upset and he hugged me. One thing let to another, and, well, it’s not proper to give you details, but that’s when things started. “I’m sorry, Skye. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I was so lonely, so hurt, I needed someone to love me, someone to find me attractive, and Josh was…well, let’s just say enthusiastic in his attentions toward me.” I was angry with my mother for carrying on with my best friend. I was dumbfounded by it as well. She was a lonely woman, though, and I’d never thought much about her emotional needs. Well, I had, but clearly not enough. I knew she was hurt when Dad left, but I guess I didn’t really understand just how badly that had messed her up. “I don’t know what to say.” “I know this is upsetting for you, Skye, but as I said, we didn’t mean for it to happen. I thought about breaking it off time and time again, but…I guess I just needed Josh.” “Couldn’t you have found a guy closer to your age?” I asked. “It’s not that easy, Skye. I’m not the most attractive woman around and…” “You’re beautiful, Mom. You just don’t realize it.” “Thank you, Skye.” “Well…this isn’t exactly easy for me, but I guess you’re right about one thing at least: Your private life is your business, not mine. I’d just as soon we not talk

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about this any more, and I’d appreciate it if the two of you…Well, I’d just rather not see you together being…intimate.” Mom nodded. “You’re not going to marry him, are you?” I asked. Mom laughed. “No, Skye, at least not until he finishes high school and college.” I didn’t know quite what to make of that. “Are you ashamed of me?” my mother asked me. Her eyes pleaded with me for understanding and acceptance. “I’m not ashamed of you, Mom. This is going to take a heap of getting used to, but, I guess I understand, in a way.” Mom got up, pulled me to her, and hugged me. “I need to get some homework done,” I said. “Good night.” “Good night, Skye. I love you.” “I love you, too, Mom.” I walked to my room, still in a daze. I’d often thought how mortified I’d be if Mom walked in and caught me jerking off, but this was way worse. I wasn’t the one who’d been caught, but…my mom and my best friend? It blew my mind. They’d been going at it for two years, right under my nose. How could I not have noticed? I felt like a fool, and that angered me. A lot of stuff began to make sense, like how I often found Josh waiting on me when I got home. No wonder he was already here, he’d been doing my mom! Josh had requested his shift to end an hour before closing at the gym. Was that so he could do it with my mom before I got home? I thought it likely. This was the first time I’d come home early from work. Did they do it every night? I tried not to let myself think of the details, the actual acts they performed. I hoped to God they limited themselves to Mom’s bedroom. What if they’d done it on the kitchen table or in my bed? It was too sick to even contemplate. The thought that my mom had actually been carrying on with an under-aged boy disturbed me. Sure, Josh was sixteen and legal now, but he hadn’t been most of the time they’d been going at it. He was fourteen when they started! She could go to jail for something like that! I couldn’t think of my mother as a child molester. I was sure Josh had been more than willing. Hell, no wonder he was always so fucking happy. He’d been getting laid on a regular basis, which most boys his age could only dream of. What my mom did was wrong, but it’s not like she’d forced him. She wasn’t some pervert who offered kids candy to get into her car. She was a lonely woman who’d been hurt by what my father had done to her.

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It was going to take some getting used to, but I wasn’t angry with my mom. I was shocked, but not angry. Josh was another matter. He was some best friend. I wondered if he really liked me or if he just dropped by in hopes of a quickie with my mother while I was in the bathroom. He loved to spend the night with me. I wondered how many times he’d snuck off to do my mom while I was sleeping. It was like something one might read about in a tabloid.

TAYLOR—DECEMBER 1980 We awakened in the late evening, had a not-so-splendid repast of crackers, peanut butter, and water, and thought fondly of the Whoppers from Burger King that we’d enjoyed not so very long ago. Personally, I was grateful for the crackers and peanut butter. In the last twenty-four hours I’d felt hunger gnawing at my stomach, enough to know I didn’t want to experience it more than was necessary. Hopefully, we’d be able to replenish our meager food supplies before they ran out. Indy wasn’t all that far away, but it was amazing how distances stretched out when one was walking rather than riding in a car. If Brandon hadn’t driven us so far, it would’ve taken days and days just to get to where we were now. We walked back out to the road and continued our trek toward the big city. The temperature was dropping rapidly, but it didn’t feel too bad because my muscles were generating a little heat. What I most noticed was the cool air hitting the back of my neck. I hadn’t realized how much my hair protected me from the cold, and it was obviously going to take a long time for me to get used to my short hair. Our journey through the night was uneventful. We talked some, but often walked in silence. The stars were out and the moon shone brightly overhead. Now and then we heard the distant hoot of an owl or the call of a whippoorwill. It felt odd to hear country noises when we were only a few miles from a large city. All three of us carried walking sticks. They served no real purpose, but it just felt right. I’d never been much of a night owl, so adjusting to a nocturnal life wasn’t the easiest thing for me, but it wasn’t too bad. After sitting and napping all day I was ready to do something physical. I would rather it had been a good game of soccer, but I had to take what I could get. I wondered if I’d ever play soccer again. I thought Mark and I had two whole years more to play at V.H.S. Of course, after what some of our teammates had - 226 -

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done to us, maybe we wouldn’t have gone back. Then again, most of them weren’t against us, so I had the feeling we would’ve been right back on the field the next year if things hadn’t come to such a disastrous end. The events of my recent past were so unreal and nightmarish I continually expected to awaken screaming in my bed. I would have welcomed it. The look on Jon’s face as I sank the knife into his chest was burned into my mind. Surprise, pain, shock, and the realization he was mortally wounded was all there to read on his features. My own shock was nearly as intense. I’d gone after Devon in a fit of rage and had no idea Jon would end up between us at the fatal moment. It was an accident, truly, but I was no less guilty. I’d let myself lose control for that brief span of time, and it had cost one of my best friends his life. Jon had always been there for Mark and me. Even his last thoughts were of me instead of himself. He’d literally used his last breath to tell me his death wasn’t my fault, that it was an accident. I valued his forgiveness. I needed it, but it didn’t ease my guilt. Because of me Jon was dead: That I could never forget. “This all seems so wrong,” I said out loud. “What?” asked Mark. “All of this! Jon, Devon, us on the run as fugitives. I feel like I’m in some kind of nightmare that I can never wake up from! I should have killed myself, because then none of this would have happened.” “Don’t say that, Taylor!” said Mark. Marshall got the oddest look on his face, one I can’t describe, but he looked almost as if I’d struck him. “Think about it, Mark! It’s true. If I’d killed myself that night, Jon would still be alive. I’d be dead, but he’d be alive, and you wouldn’t be a fugitive on the run. You’d still have friends and school and a future. I’ve destroyed everything!” “You’re wrong, Taylor. Without you, I’d have nothing. You know what I really think I would’ve done if you’d killed yourself? I would have marched right out there and blown my brains out because I couldn’t have lived without you. Even if I didn’t, my life would have been over without you. School would have meant nothing. It would only have been a cruel reminder of when you were alive. “Do you think I could have set foot in Ofarim’s or Café Moffatt or even my own room without thinking of you? Do you think I could have ever played soccer again? Everything in my life would have made me think of you, of how much I loved you, and how you weren’t there any more. My life would have become a hellish nightmare so horrible that what I’m experiencing now is like a fairy tale by comparison. I’m just as sorry as you that Jon’s gone. We were friends for longer than I can even remember, but we can’t undo the past. We’ve got to live in the

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here and now. You can’t save Jon, Taylor; you can’t. I know you’d do anything to save him, give up your own life even, but you can’t. And God damn it, don’t you ever think of killing yourself again!” Mark’s last words shocked me. He’d never yelled at me like that before. His anger was born of love, however, and I felt comforted and assured by it, rather than hurt. Mark loved me that much. I grabbed him and hugged him tight. “I won’t,” I said. “I promise.” We covered each other’s face with kisses and walked on, hand in hand. Mark looked over at Marshall. “I hope you enjoyed this evening’s little performance. We’ll be here all week.” Marshall laughed. “You guys are almost as weird as I am.” ✶

✶

✶

✶

The nights were beautiful, but cold. The stars shone brightly and looked unnaturally close. I knew they were unthinkably far away, but I almost felt as if I could reach out and grab one. It was odd how the heavens looked so peaceful when there was such turmoil upon the earth, even in my own heart. Our food supply dwindled to almost nothing, but we finally reached civilization again and found a supermarket. It was almost 10:30 p.m. when we got there, but luckily the place was open until 11. We intended to be extremely careful with our money, so we took a good long while deciding on our purchases. Anything that required cooking was of no use to us, and we tried to choose things with lots of food value rather than just sugar. Peanut butter was an obvious choice. We found some hard rolls in a clearance bin and stocked up on those. They were day-old, but who cared? We didn’t spend a dime on drinks. We could fill our water bottles now and then, so there was no use wasting money on soft drinks when we could get water for free. We hungrily eyed some fried chicken, but decided against it. It was far more expensive than the other things we’d selected. If we splurged on something like chicken now, we might well find ourselves with nothing at all to eat later. One thing we did spend a bit of money on was some black hair dye. It was kind of expensive, but the last thing we wanted was to be spotted by the cops. We’d been very lucky so far, but none of us knew how long our luck would hold out. We found a little park and sat on a bench while we made peanut-butter sandwiches. The hard rolls turned out to be quite tasty. They were yeast rolls and were all buttery and sweet. I wished we could have seen the park during the day, but

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we vampires could only come out at night. Appearing during the day was to risk arrest. With ours stomachs full and Marshall’s backpack stuffed with food, we all felt a good deal better as we continued on our journey. One thing I’d noticed about myself is that I didn’t seem to need to eat as much to feel full. I wondered if my stomach had shrunk. There were times when it sure felt as if it was shrinking. We walked on and on. I’d always loved Tolkien’s writings, and I thought of Frodo setting out on his quest to destroy the ring. Part of the time I even pretended we were in Middle Earth, walking somewhere in that world where elves dwelled. Mark was far more like Frodo than I was. Before my hair was cut, I might’ve made a good Legolas. I couldn’t quite decide who Marshall should be, although Pippin or Merry seemed the best bet. Marshall was goofy and weird and vastly entertaining. He helped to keep our spirits up even though there was an edge of sadness to him. The next day after we awakened, Mark dyed my hair. Luckily we’d found a campsite near a stream, so we had the necessary water. Unfortunately, the water was quite cold, and I shivered when I touched it. The process of dyeing my hair was over soon enough, however, and for that I was thankful. I couldn’t see myself when Mark had finished, of course, but both he and Marshall proclaimed Operation Disguise Taylor a complete success. Not only was my hair short, it was now also jet black. Mark had even done my eyebrows. Mark kissed me, then giggled. “You look like a different boy,” he said. “I almost feel like I’m cheating on you.” “I know you’d never cheat on me.” I kissed him again. “I think I’ll go for a walk,” said Marshall. Mark and I smiled at him. Marshall knew just when to get lost.

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 I loathed Zac more with each passing day—the two-faced liar. I was summoned to his house after school almost daily for a repeat performance of that first afternoon. If Zac was straight, he sure wasn’t getting any from his girl. He shot off his mouth a lot at school about doing his girlfriend, but he was damned eager every afternoon to bend me over: too eager for a boy who claimed to be both straight and getting plenty of action. Zac was waiting by my truck Tuesday after school. “Take me to your place,” Zac ordered as soon as the doors were closed. I wanted to beat him senseless so badly I could hardly stand it. “Your buddy, Jeremy, isn’t looking so good,” I said. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t resist. Zac surprised me by laughing. “Yeah, Brandon kicked his ass all over the soccer field. Jeremy told me about it. That dude is crazy. Rob is scared shitless he’ll be next. He knows Brandon is working his way down the list. If those guys had any sense, all three of them would jump Brandon, but they’re scared of him.” I was very relieved to hear that. “Don’t look so smug, fag. If I thought for a second you had anything to do with what happened to Jeremy…” “You know I didn’t.” “Yeah, I know. You’d go crawling to Brandon for help if you could. All the other faggots do, but you’re too afraid of him finding out what you are.” I drove Zac to the farm. What else could I do? I despised having him there, but I didn’t let it show. Zac fed on information. If he discovered I particularly hated having him on the farm, he’d insist on coming more often. He followed me up to my room and watched as I undressed to change into my work clothes.

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“Stop there,” he said, when I’d stripped down to my boxers. I did as I was told. “Now, come here, fag.” Being used right in my own room made it worse; it was a violation of my personal space. I guess it shouldn’t have been such a big deal to me since Zac had already violated my body, but I felt like he was invading my sanctuary, my place of refuge. It only took Zac about twenty minutes to finish with me. When he was done I pulled my boxers back on and dressed. He followed me out to the barn and watched as I did chores. “Damn, is this what you do every day after school, feed animals and shit?” “It’s a farm,” I said, hoping to make him feel stupid. “Yeah, but…what a sad life you live. You should be thankful I came along.” “Yeah, I thank God for your illustrious presence every night.” Zac slapped me hard across the face. “Shut up, faggot. Don’t forget, I own you.” “How could I forget? You won’t let me.” “I have such plans for you, fag.” I tried to concentrate on my work and just forget Zac was there. I was entirely unsuccessful. “I was thinking I might use you to make a little money.” “Zac, if you think I’m going to rake yards or whatever and give you the cash, think again. If I come in late too often, I’ll get grounded and that will seriously curtail your fun, as you call it.” Zac snarled at me, grabbed the back of my hair, and pulled it back painfully. “You still haven’t quite learned your place, have you, faggot? I’ll have you whether or not you’re grounded. I don’t care how much trouble you get in. You’ll still come and be my bitch, whether or not you’re allowed, got it?” He yanked my hair back so hard I almost lost my balance. “I get it,” I said. Zac released my hair and slapped me hard in the face again. “What was that?” “I get it, sir,” I said between clinched teeth. “I’m glad we understand each other. I wasn’t talking about making you rake leaves and shit. I had something much more profitable in mind.” “And what would that be?” “I really enjoy your ass. I figure others will, too, and they’ll be willing to pay.” “What?” I said, looking at Zac in horror. “I’m thinking about renting your ass out.” “No way! You can’t do that, Zac!”

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“I can do anything I want, bitch.” “Why would I cooperate? You do that, and it won’t matter if you out me or not. Everyone will find out.” “You really think I’m that stupid? I was smart enough to make you into my bitch, wasn’t I? I’m not talking about posting fucking notices in the boys’ restroom. I’ve been talking to a buddy of yours, and he assures me he knows guys that would pay big for your services.” “Buddy? I don’t know anyone like that.” “Or course you do, your friendly neighborhood drug dealer and town prostitute, Austin.” “Austin? He doesn’t really…He’s not really a prostitute, is he?” “Oh, yeah, he told me all about being a whore. You see, I went and had a little talk with him. I told him I had something on you. I didn’t say what, but I told him I could make you do things. I asked if he could hook you up, and we made a little deal. He’ll provide the clients for 20%. I get the rest, of course. He says he knows a couple of guys who will pay big for you and probably on a regular basis. I figure you can make me a couple hundred bucks a week easy.” I shook my head. “Zac, no, please. Don’t do this to me! For God’s sake!” “Come on, Ethan, it won’t be that bad. I don’t think those guys will use you any harder than I do. They’ll probably just want plain old sex. Hell, I bet they’ll mostly want to blow you and explore that hard body of yours. You’ll probably like it.” “I will not!” “It doesn’t matter. You’ll do what I say, like it or not.” “You’re pushing me way too far, Zac. It was bad enough with just you, but now you’re talking about selling me to some guys you don’t even know? Fuck that! I’m not doing it!” “Oh, you’ll do it, bitch. You’ll do it or I’ll out you so fast it will make your head spin!” “I won’t let you make me into a whore.” “Why not? You’re already a bitch—my bitch; there’s not much difference between that and being a whore now, is there? Don’t try to act all virtuous with me. I know what you are. You’re a dirty faggot. Being used by guys like me is your purpose in life. If things weren’t supposed to be like this, they wouldn’t be, but they are like this. You’re my little faggot bitch, and you’re going to do exactly as I say.” My lower lip trembled and I fought hard not to cry. Zac was hurting me with his words more than he ever had with his fists.

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“I think you need a little reminder of just who is in control here. Get on your knees, now!” I wanted to kill him. I had to fight with every ounce of my being not to jump on him and beat him to death. Instead, I dropped to my knees, humiliated, and didn’t resist as Zac dropped his jeans and boxers and pushed my head toward his crotch. ✶

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I dropped Zac off at his house. Only when I pulled away did I allow myself to cry. I was scum, nothing but disgusting scum. I let Zac beat me. I submitted to his sexual demands and his sick little games. I did everything he said just to preserve my pathetic excuse for a life. If I had any balls at all I would defy him. I should have at least had the decency to kill myself rather than submit to the likes of Zac, but I couldn’t even manage that. Zac was right. I was a piece of filth, not because I was gay, but because I failed to stand up for myself and because I performed degrading sexual acts and let Zac treat me like dirt. Maybe Zac was right, what difference was there between what I was now and being a whore? I was selling my body to Zac to keep my secret. Was selling it for cash any different? I’d already sunk as low as I could go. I hated Zac with a vengeance. He’d done this to me. But I hated myself even more. I’d let Zac turn me into his bitch. I’d submitted when I should have fought. I’d caved in to all of his demands out of fear. I was a poor excuse for a man. I was no man. I was nothing. I still had farm work to do. I popped a couple of pills into my mouth. I needed the escape. Everything had gone so very wrong. I was trapped and there was no way out. The drugs began to have their effect, and I sighed. Any relief from my tormented state was welcome. Maybe this is how people became addicts: Their lives were so horrible that addiction was worth the price. I shook the bottle. I was getting low. I’d need to see Austin again, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. He’d sold me out by making a deal for my body with Zac. I guess it was really Zac selling me, but I wasn’t pleased with Austin for his part in it. I’d known for a long time he was a drug dealer, but I hadn’t really believed the rumors that he was also a whore. It was disgusting. I nearly laughed out loud. Look who’s talking. I walked out and continued with my chores as the drugs began to ease my mind. They didn’t provide true escape, but they sure helped. I could look at the

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spot where Zac had forced me to blow him in the barn and not be too concerned about it. I had a feeling I’d need more drugs when I returned to my room later. I didn’t know if I could deal with remembering what Zac had done to me on my very own bed.

SKYE—FALL 1997 Josh couldn’t even look me in the face the next day at school. I could hardly blame him. He probably thought I was going to beat the shit out of him, and, believe me, I’d thought about it. I felt betrayed. I was uncomfortable around him, too. Just a few hours before, I’d seen his bare ass…No, I didn’t want to think about that. The image was already burned into my mind, and I was going to have a hard enough time getting rid of it without dwelling on it. If it had been anyone else under him, it wouldn’t have been a hundredth as bad. Hell, if I’d walked in on Josh doing some girl from school, I wouldn’t have even cared. Ewwww. A disturbing thought occurred to me. I knew for a fact Josh had screwed Terri Whitehead. So had most of the guys, including me. Josh had done it with my mom, then Terri, and then I’d done Terri. What was that they said about not only sleeping with someone, but with everyone they’d slept with? It was almost incestuous. I was gonna be sick. Josh had much to answer for. Josh sat near me at lunch, but not as close as usual. He completely avoided my gaze. If I’d been doing his mom and he’d found out, I probably wouldn’t have been looking him in the face either. Josh pretty much had to look at me at work, and when he did so for the first time, he was pale and trembling. When I moved my arm, he actually flinched. “I’m not going to hit you.” Those were the first words I’d spoken to him since the incident. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “No, you’re not. If you were sorry you would’ve stopped doing it with my mom a long time ago. You’re only sorry you got caught.” “Skye, I…” “Do you even like me?” I asked him angrily. “Or do you just pretend to be my friend so you can fuck my mom?” - 235 -

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The gym was fairly crowded, but the front counter was well away from most of the machines, and no one was within earshot. Josh looked like he was about to cry. “Skye, I really do like you. Our friendship isn’t a fake.” “Did you fuck my sister, too, when she lived at home?” “No! Skye, listen, I don’t know how much your mom told you, but she seemed so lonely and I was…well, you know what it’s like! I used to think I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have sex. I didn’t set out to seduce your mom. I’d never even thought about it, but that first day, when I hugged her, I couldn’t help it. I lost control. I needed it so bad and…well, I guess I did come onto your mom, but I hadn’t planned it. It just happened.” “Yeah, and I bet you just happen to get it on with her every time you come to see me!” “No, Skye. I’ll admit, sometimes when I’m there to see you, we do stuff, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Mostly, I’ve come over when you’re not there. I didn’t want you to know. I was afraid you’d freak out or tell me we weren’t friends anymore. It’s not just sex between your mom and me, not anymore.” “Yeah, well what about Terri Whitehead? I know for a fact you fucked her after you’d started in with my mom.” “I did and it was probably a mistake, but that was months ago, and it was just sex back then. Things have changed, though, Skye: I really care about your mom. I love her.” The sincere tone of Josh’s voice hit me. It meant far more than his actual words. He meant it. He really meant it. My mood softened. “If you ever hurt her, I will fucking kill you. I don’t mean this as an idle threat. It will happen. She’s been through enough. I’ll fucking beat you to death. You got it?” Josh nodded, clearly terrified, but also hopeful. “Does this mean you’re okay with your mom and me?” “I wouldn’t go that far, but my mom’s private life is her business, not mine. This whole thing is pretty fucked up because she’s my mom and you’re my best friend, but I’ll just have to live with it.” “We’re still best friends?” asked Josh. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to try. I can’t give you any guarantees.” Josh smiled. “Don’t you breathe a word of this to anyone else. If you tell anyone that you and my mom…”

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“I won’t! I swear! I’ve never told anyone. You won’t believe how hard it has been to keep my mouth shut when I’ve been…Well, I won’t tell anyone.” “Okay, you two don’t have to sneak around behind my back anymore. We’re all adults here, sort of. I don’t want you two doing stuff in front of me, though; it’s just too weird. If you do it in her room or wherever, that’s okay with me, I guess.” “Of course,” said Josh, eager to agree. “Damn, this is fucked up,” I said. Josh obviously didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent. “I’m gonna work out,” I said, leaving Josh alone at the counter. I hit the machines hard, working off some of my aggression. There were times when I just wanted to beat the crap out of someone. Usually that mood hit me for no reason at all, but at the moment I felt like pounding Josh. I piled on more weight than usual. I strained to press the heavy weights away from my chest. Feeling my muscles give their all didn’t stop me from thinking about Josh and my mom, but it did provide an outlet for my hostility. It was as effective as pounding a punching bag. Josh should’ve been grateful we were in the gym. Straining my guts out may have been the only thing saving his face from my fist. If Josh had been doing someone else’s mom, I wouldn’t have minded. I would probably have found it funny and even kind of hot. He was having an affair with my mother, however, so it was hard to take. I wasn’t going to cause problems. Mom obviously wanted to be with him, and maybe he made her feel young again or something. I wanted my mom to be happy. If Josh had thrown his relationship with my mom in my face, I would’ve kicked his ass, but it wasn’t like that. He was afraid it would mess up our friendship, and he obviously cared about her. I thought these thoughts as I was benching, working on my pecs. I realized I wasn’t paying much attention to what I was doing, which was just asking for a painful injury. I tried to get my mind on lifting. I could feel my pecs tense and flex as I pressed the bar away from my chest. I loved to feel my muscles working. I could also feel the strain in my arms, back, and shoulders. The bench press was a chest exercise, but it worked a lot of other muscles, too. Due to the extra weight I’d put on the bar, I was actually shaking as I pumped out the reps. It wasn’t my usual method of working out, but this was about burning off aggression, not putting on muscle.

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I nearly dropped the bar when a realization dawned on me. I quickly finished my set and sat up, staring at Josh. I swallowed hard. What if he and my mom got married? Josh would be my dad! I’m living in a soap opera, I thought. All I need to complete the plot is to find out Josh is really my long-lost brother. There was little chance of that, thank God. I cleared my head of errant thoughts and returned to my workout.

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 I could barely look at Zac the next day. I feared him and was disgusted by him. Every time he neared, I was afraid he’d tell me he’d sold my ass and that I’d have to have sex with some guy I didn’t even know that night. Sex could be something really nasty if you didn’t want it, and I sure didn’t want to sell myself as a whore. It was almost unbearable with Zac, but doing it for money somehow seemed worse. Zac’s hypocrisy made me sick to my stomach. Anyone seeing us together would have thought we were best friends. Even Brandon had remarked that Zac and I seemed to have become really tight. I hated having to pretend I liked him. It was a struggle not to pull away in revulsion when he touched me. Slapping a smile on my face when he was around was even harder. I had to laugh at his stupid jokes and be all friendly with him at lunch, as if we were buds. It was almost worse than having to bend over for him. I wondered if any of our classmates had the slightest clue that such a monster walked in their midst. The truly sad part was that if everything came out into the open, it was me, and not Zac, who would be seen as the monster. It was almost unbelievable that a guy who screwed other guys could be considered straight, but I knew how my classmates thought. If the truth came out, I’d be the fag and Zac’s actions would be justified. He was just using a cocksucker, that’s all. I despised him so much I might have been willing to out myself if I could take him down with me, but I knew that I’d be condemned and he’d walk away Scot-free. Life was truly unfair in so very many ways. I sighed when I saw Zac standing beside my truck after school. I wasn’t surprised by the sight, but I was nowhere near pleased. Did he ever get enough? We climbed in the truck. “Your house?” I asked, resigned to my fate. “No, drive to the park. We have a meeting with Austin.” - 239 -

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I turned my head and stared at Zac. “Zac, please…no.” “Shut up and drive, faggot.” I did as I was told. Could my life get any worse? I pulled the truck into a parking spot and we got out. Austin was sitting on a bench, waiting on us. Snow was flying, and I shivered in my leather jacket, although I couldn’t tell if I was shivering from the cold or from fear. “Hey, Austin,” said Zac. “You have it all set up?” “Of course, man, business is business.” Austin turned and looked me up and down as if he’d never seen before. What he was doing was appraising merchandise. It made my skin crawl. “Damn, I never thought I’d see this day,” said Austin. “Zac must have some serious shit on you.” Austin laughed, and I sneered at him. “Okay,” said Austin, “I take it you’ve never done this before?” “No,” I said. “It’s fucking easy. You just do what the customer wants. I’ll be arranging things for you. Just think of me as your pimp, Ethan.” Austin laughed again, and I wasn’t one bit amused. I felt like crawling under a rock. Was this really happening to me? “There’s a couple of rules you’ve got to follow, though. First, never, and I mean never, fuck without a rubber, no matter how much money you’re offered. There are loads of diseases you can get, so it’s for your own protection. A lot of customers won’t want to touch you if they find out your do it bare; it’s too risky. Second, get the money up front, before you so much as take off your pants. It’s standard practice. Some customers will try to stiff you otherwise. The customers I’ll set you up with are regulars of mine and won’t try that with you, but others might.” “I didn’t know there were rules to being a whore,” I said, sarcastically. Zac smacked me hard in the back of the head. “Show some respect, bitch! Austin’s a professional, and you’re just a useless fuck.” Austin eyed me as if surprised I didn’t turn around and clock Zac. The mere fact I was there should’ve told him I couldn’t strike back. “Okay, so when you’re done, you take the money to Zac, and he’ll give me my cut. I’ll let him know when I have a customer for you. You’re prime merchandise, so I’m sure you’ll do well.” Great, that’s just what I wanted to hear. I wisely kept my mouth shut, though.

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“Here’s the address for this evening’s customer,” said Austin, handing me a small slip of paper. “You’re to be there at 8:30 p.m. Be on time. He’s real eager to get his hands on you.” I took the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. “Okay, let’s go,” said Zac. “Thanks, Austin, I’ll stop by tomorrow with your cut.” “Nice doing business with you, Zac.” Austin looked at me and grinned. He was probably thinking about all the money he’d be making off me. I was beginning to hate him. “Drive me home,” said Zac. I did as I was told. Zac didn’t tell me to come in with him. I guess he wanted me to save it for my customer. “Don’t even think about backing out, faggot,” he said, just before climbing out of the truck. “You know what will happen if you do.” I pulled away from Zac’s house and headed for the farm. It wasn’t quite 4 p.m., but I had work to do and homework as well. I’d also need to get cleaned up before I went back into town for my appointment at 8:30. I was already nervous. My stomach was queasy. This was not the life I wanted to live. I settled into my familiar farm work, but I didn’t feel safe anymore. I doubted I’d ever feel truly safe again. I had no control over my life. Zac could appear at any moment and demand whatever he wanted of me. In the beginning, before I’d known who was sending me threatening notes, it had been bad enough. Back then he made me do book reports for him, and on that one day he made me wear a wife-beater to school. Things were so much nastier now there was no comparison. The whole situation was completely out of control. There’s no use thinking about it, Ethan, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I needed to take a page from Nathan’s book. His life obviously sucked ass, but he did his best to find happiness wherever he could. I guess that’s all he had, and I was in the same position now. I needed to live in the moment and draw whatever pleasure I could from it. Stealing little bits of happiness was the best I could manage. I wondered where Nathan was now. I fed the chickens. I smiled as they scurried for the cracked corn I placed in their long, narrow trough. I knelt down to pet one of the hens. They were all quite tame, even the rooster. Some roosters could be belligerent, but not Ralph. I guess he knew he was the only rooster around, so he didn’t have any competition. Chickens lived kind of a boring life, but I think I would’ve been willing to trade.

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It wouldn’t have been too bad just to sit or walk around all day, then have someone feed you. The chickens sure didn’t have any troubles like me! I moved on to feeding the horses next. I took time to pet Wuffa and Fairfax. They whinnied, which made me smile. I began to think of the day I’d taught Jon to ride, but I stopped myself, for it would inevitably lead to remembering his death. I needed happy thoughts now, not grief. I wondered if Jon was an angel now. If he was, I hoped he’d watch over me, because I sure needed it. It would take a miracle to save me from the mess I’d made of my life. The barn was cozy, filled with the scent of hay, straw, and corn. It wasn’t heated, of course, but it was a good deal warmer than outside. The sturdy old barn kept out the wind, except where the doors were left open to allow the horses and other animals to pass into the pasture at will. Thunder rumbled, and a steady drizzle began to fall. It’d been snowing only an hour earlier, but I guess the temperature had gone up just enough to make the difference. It was the kind of rain that could go on for hours. There would be no working on the fencerow this evening; the December rain was far too cold. There was never any shortage of work, however, so I busied myself in the barn for a while, cleaning out the stalls and refilling the feed bins. It looked as if I’d need to make a trip into Wahlberg’s Farm Store soon because we were getting a bit low on feed, and the salt block was almost gone. I ran for the house about 6:30, but was still nearly soaked by the time I made it in the back door. Jack was in the living room, reading the paper. The inclement weather had driven him indoors, too. We were forever at the mercy of nature on the farm. I called out “hello” to him as I hurried up the stairs for a dry shirt. Minutes later, I was seated at the kitchen table, a steaming bowl of chili in front of me. The hot food was delicious and just the thing for a rainy December evening. I’d mixed up some peanut butter and jelly and spread it on crackers to go with the chili. I was beginning to feel good and warm and even a little sleepy. I felt all comfy in the warm kitchen with the cold rain falling down outside. After I finished supper, I made myself a cup of hot tea and took it upstairs to my bedroom. I still had some time to do a little homework before I needed to shower, change, and go. I lost myself in my homework, finding it more pleasant than other thoughts that tried to force their way into my mind. I pretended that I was a regular kid for a while, just an average high-school jock doing his homework before he went out and played hoops with his friends. It almost worked.

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Time slipped by, and my appointment was coming up much too quickly. I put my homework to the side, stripped down to my boxers, and walked down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower. The chili and warmth of the farmhouse had warmed me up considerably, but the hot shower was true bliss. I loved the steam and the hot water flowing over my body. I loved the sensation of a soapy washcloth on my skin. I began to relax, focusing on the pleasure of my shower, rather than what was to come. I dried off and returned to my room with a towel wrapped around my waist. I took a look at myself in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw. I’d been letting myself go. I was still in good shape, but I definitely wasn’t in top form. I’d been skipping too many workouts. I needed to get back into my routine. I dressed in clean boxers, a V.H.S. Wrestling shirt, the jeans I’d worn to school that day, and clean socks. I didn’t really know what to wear, so I decided to be comfortable. What did I care if the guy I was meeting liked how I was dressed or not? I tried to ignore the nervous feeling in my gut as I sat down to slip on my sneakers. I wasn’t going to allow myself to think about what was soon to happen. I was just going to go, get it over with, then come back and try to forget it ever happened. I wished I could selectively block out memories. If I had that ability, my life would’ve been far more pleasant. I pulled on my leather jacket as protection from the cold and walked downstairs to tell Jack I was going out. He’d disappeared, so I left him a note on the kitchen table. I walked out to the truck and headed for town, with the heater going full blast. The cab smelled like hay and old rubber. I liked the scent. It was familiar and soothing in its way, bringing back memories of working on the farm when I was a kid. Oh, how I wished I was that innocent boy once again, but those days were gone forever. My innocence was lost, and I’d never get it back. The chill rain was still falling and was beginning to convert back into snow as I made my way to Verona. I pulled the small slip of paper out of my pocket and read the address Austin had written down for me. I made my way through town and pulled up in front of a white, two-story relic from the 1950s just a little before 8:30. It looked like a lot of other houses in town, although newer than most. Verona had a lot of old houses in it. The normal-looking exterior belied what awaited me inside. I wondered if the neighbors had any idea that the occupant paid boys for sex. I hesitated, gripping the steering wheel hard. I didn’t want to leave the safety of the truck. I didn’t want to sell my body to some stranger. It wouldn’t have been quite as bad if I was desperate for money and was doing it to survive, but to

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prostitute myself so that Zac and Austin could make cash off of me made it all the worse. Zac was probably sitting at home in front of the TV, living a nice, normal life, while I was sitting out here in my truck, willing myself dead so I wouldn’t have to go through with what Zac and Austin had planned for me. I forced myself to get out of the truck and make my way to the door. Yeah, that’s it, be a good little whore, I could almost hear Zac saying in my mind. I hated being controlled by him. I hated it! I rang the doorbell and stood waiting with my heart pounding in my chest. I was so nervous I trembled a little. The door opened and my eyes widened in shock. Standing in the open doorway was Mr. Geoffrey, my English teacher! “Hello, Ethan, come in; I’ve been waiting for you.” Mr. Geoffrey stood to the side so that I could enter. I swallowed hard as I walked past him. My mind was spinning. This was too weird. I hadn’t expected to know the guy I was meeting! Mr. Geoffrey smiled at me knowingly as he closed and locked the door. My breath was coming too fast, and I struggled to get it under control. “I was very pleased when Austin told me about you,” said Mr. Geoffrey. “I’ve had my eye on you for a long time. If I would’ve known you were available, I’d have made you an offer long ago.” “I’ve…I’ve never done this before,” I stammered. “You’ve never had sex for money or never had sex?” “I’ve never had sex for money.” “Speaking of that, here you go,” he said, handing me a wad of bills. I stuffed them into my pocket without counting. I didn’t know how much he was supposed to pay, and what did I care if he shorted Zac? It would serve the son of a bitch right. “Take off your jacket, Ethan.” “Yes, sir.” I was accustomed to following orders. Mr. Geoffrey was sure a lot nicer about it than Zac. “Now your shirt.” I did as I was told. Mr. Geoffrey walked over to me and began to run his hands over my chest. I fought to control my racing heart. “You have a beautiful body, Ethan.” I closed my eyes as my English teacher leaned over and began to lick my chest. I pretended it wasn’t happening. I promised myself I’d forget all about it when I walked out the door. He kept it up a good long time, then pulled back. “You’re trembling,” he said.

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“I’m sorry, sir.” “Just relax, Ethan. I won’t hurt you. In fact, I’ll make you feel very good. Now, take off the rest of your clothes for me.” I slowly stripped, feeling cheap, dirty, and used, but also sexy. I was embarrassed and disgusted with myself because I was aroused when I pulled down my boxers. I shouldn’t have been getting turned on by this. I forced myself not to think about it. Mr. Geoffrey seemed quite pleased by my arousal, however. He dropped to his knees and began. It felt amazingly good. I didn’t want to enjoy it, but I did. Only a few minutes later I shuddered and moaned with the release. Mr. Geoffrey stood. “You can get dressed now, Ethan. That was wonderful. Did it feel good?” “Yes, sir.” “I’m glad. I want you to enjoy it, too.” I felt sorry for Mr. Geoffrey as I dressed. He wasn’t a bad man and he seemed very lonely. It was sad he had to pay for sex instead of being with someone he loved. I guess it could be pretty hard to find someone, though. I sure didn’t know how I’d ever find a boyfriend. Of course, I didn’t even dare try in Verona. I guess Mr. Geoffrey was trapped by prejudice, just as I was. At least he didn’t have someone blackmailing him. In moments, I was fully dressed again. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. “I’ll definitely want you again, Ethan. You’re well worth the price. Next time we’ll do more. I have some fantasies I want to explore.” I didn’t like the sound of that, but what could I do? “Goodbye, Mr. Geoffrey, see you at school.” “Bye, Ethan.” I pulled the wad of bills out of my pocket after I climbed in the truck. There was a hundred bucks there! I guess the amount didn’t matter. I could keep none of it. At least it was over, for now. I drove to Zac’s house. His mom let me in and I walked up to his room. The door was open, but he closed and locked it behind me. I handed him the cash. “Nice,” he said. “For you.” “Shut up, fag. You know you liked it. Fuck, all you had to do was get sucked.” “Why don’t you do it then? You could work the streets like Austin.” “Because I don’t have to. I have a little fag who’ll do it for me. As long as you’re here, you can do something else for me. On your knees, slave.”

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A few minutes later I was on my way home. The rain had completed its transformation back into snow and was falling hard and fast. The roads were getting slick, and I had to drive extra carefully. Winter had truly come. So this is what it feels like to be a whore, I thought to myself. I’d heard stories about kids having to sell themselves on the street, but I never thought it would happen to me. Of course, I never thought someone like Zac could take over my life and control me. I thought of Austin making his way by selling drugs and his own body. What must his life be like? I couldn’t imagine living like that. I needed to pay Austin a visit soon. My bottle was getting empty, and I was going to need a little escape as soon as I got home. I took another shower as soon as I returned, as if I could somehow wash away what I’d done. After my shower I attempted to return to my homework, but I couldn’t concentrate. Part of the reason was because the homework was for English. I couldn’t believe I’d just had sex with Mr. Geoffrey. How was I going to look him in the face in the morning? The same way I looked at Zac, I guessed. I’d had sex with two different guys now and with neither of them willingly. I was both a whore and a slut. I felt as if my life was ruined before it’d even begun. ✶

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Austin found me two more customers that week. I don’t even want to talk about what I did with them. My time with Mr. Geoffrey was a dream compared to the others. I didn’t know the other two, but both of them were rough, like they had the right to hurt me because they were paying. It wasn’t nearly as bad as what Zac had done to me, but it left me feeling dirty and violated. Dirty, violated, used, and abused—those were all words that accurately described my life, just as slut, whore, coward, and loser described me. I was nothing: just a piece of meat to be bought, sold, and used. Every time I was sent out by Austin, I came back and gave the money to Zac. He was growing rich off of exploiting me. My hatred for him increased daily. On the evenings when there was no customer to satisfy, Zac demanded my services. If his parents were out, we did it in his room; if they were home, we did it in mine, or the barn, although it was too damned cold to be getting naked in the hayloft. When we were in the barn, Zac took off as little clothing as possible, but he made me strip naked. He cared nothing about my discomfort. In fact, I’m sure he loved inflicting pain on me. Sometimes he belted me in the face for no reason at all. Zac and Austin made money hand over fist while I got nothing, except humiliation and a sore ass. I feared I’d pick up diseases, despite the precautions. I knew

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sex had been ruined for me forever. How could I ever have sex with another guy without feeling used? I hated Zac for that more than anything. He’d taken something that should have been special and perverted it into something nasty. The one thing I did get out of being rented out was a sense of security. The money Zac was making off me was further insurance that he wouldn’t out me. I’d feared the novelty of using me might wear off and he’d feed me to the wolves, but his greed would protect me even if he tired of having his own personal sex slave.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 “Marty, do you want to come over to my house later?” I asked as he was shoving his books in his locker at the end of the day. “Sure,” he said smiling, “but why not right now?” His eyes were slightly glazed, and I was so powerfully attracted to him I wanted to take him in my arms right then and there. I wanted to take him, period. His gaze revealed deep physical desire, and I couldn’t help but respond to it. I shook my head to clear it. “I need to talk to Zoë. She’s still fuming, and I hate to see her suffer.” Marty nodded. “Call me when you get home, and I’ll come running. See you later, Sean.” I sighed as I left Marty and went in search of Zoë. I had to fight myself to keep from turning back. I wanted nothing more than to be in Marty’s arms. I found Zoë at her locker, unfortunately talking to a couple of her girlfriends. Their presence would make things much harder. I very nearly scurried away, but Zoë turned and caught me with her icy stare. “Can we talk?” I asked. “I have nothing to say to you,” she said, slamming her locker so hard I jumped. “Please, Zoë, I know you’re mad and you have every right to be. I can’t stand to see you in pain like this and know I caused it.” Her friends were giving me the stare of death. “Why would I even want to talk to you?” “How about to see me beg for forgiveness and grovel?” “I’m slightly intrigued.” I dropped to my knees in front of Zoë and looked up at her. “Please, Zoë, just talk to me? Please!” My pathetic display did the trick. - 248 -

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“Okay, we’ll talk,” said Zoë, “but I’d better like what you have to say.” Zoë’s friends laughed at me. I knew I’d made a spectacle of myself, but I didn’t care if it helped me set things right with Zoë. I stood and followed Zoë as she walked away from her locker. “Start talking,” she said not slacking her pace. “I know I hurt you, and I’m extremely sorry. But I thought it would be better to be honest with you now instead of later. I know you don’t believe what I told you, but it’s true. There’s another reason we can’t date as well. I don’t want to tell you about it, because it involves my deepest, darkest secret, but you’re my friend and I care about you and trust you. I know you’re hurting because of me, and maybe if you know my secret it will make things easier on you.” “Okay,” said Zoë, noncommittally. I looked around to make sure no one was near. We were quite alone. “I’m gay,” I said quietly. Zoë stopped in her tracks and stared at me. “I’m gay,” I repeated. “You’re not gay, Sean. If this is what you had to tell me, then you’ve wasted my time. I’m tired of your lies.” “It’s not a lie, I swear!” “In case you don’t remember, we had sex, Sean, and your attraction to me was quite clear. You are not gay.” “Why would I lie about something like that? I could get my head beat in if anyone found out about me!” “I don’t know, Sean. Why are you lying to me? Did you find some other girl you like better? Did you just get tired of me? What?” “What is it going to take to make you believe me? Do I have to kiss another boy right in front of you or have sex with him to make you believe it?” “Yes,” said Zoë. “Okay, then, come on. Let’s put an end to your doubts.” I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in the direction of my home. “What are you doing?” “I’m taking you home with me. You want proof, I’ll give you proof!” “You’re not serious?” “I’m deadly serious,” I said, stopping and staring into her eyes. Tears were beginning to well up in my own. “I can’t stand seeing you in pain. I know I hurt you and I want to make it right. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but if I can make you understand that I’m telling the truth, then maybe you won’t feel so bad. I love you, Zoë, I do, and if I was straight you’d be the one for me; but I’m not. So,

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if you want proof, I’ll give it to you. I have a boyfriend, and, no, I wasn’t cheating on you when we were dating. He and I just started dating last night. We’ll go to my house and I’ll call him. He’ll come over, and we’ll prove to you that I’m telling the truth! Then, you can go and tell everyone and ruin our lives if you want. You can destroy us. All you’ll have to do is tell someone what you saw, and he and I will both be dead by the end of the week. We’ll be beaten to death or maybe lynched like Oliver was, but you’ll know I wasn’t lying to you!” “Let’s go, then. I want to see just how far you’ll carry this little charade.” Zoë wasn’t buying my story. Part of me was hurt, but could I really blame her? From her point of view what I was telling her was ridiculous. Zoë was calling my bluff, but soon she would find out I wasn’t bluffing. I was going to put all my cards on the table. I just hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake. I stopped at a payphone and called Marty. I wanted to make Zoë understood the truth as quickly as possible. Seth wasn’t home when we arrived, which was a very good thing indeed. He definitely could not be present. We had to wait only a few minutes for Marty to arrive, but it seemed like hours. Zoë looked as if she could just barely tolerate my existence, and I feared she would storm out of my room before I had a chance to prove I was telling her the truth. Marty’s eyes were filled with disappointment when he caught sight of Zoë, but I planned to make it up to him. “Don’t be mad at me, but I told Zoë about us.” “What?” yelled Marty. Zoë jerked her head in my direction. “Marty? You expect me to believe that Marty is your boyfriend? I don’t know what kind of game the two of you are playing, but…” “Yes, he’s my boyfriend. I’m not lying. Please, Zoë, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone unless you want to see both of us beaten to a pulp or murdered. You know it would happen.” “Why would I tell anyone? I don’t believe you.” “I guess it’s time for proof then,” I said. I gazed into Marty’s eyes, silently asking him to trust me. He didn’t pull away as I approached him, took him in my arms, and kissed him on the lips. We didn’t just kiss; we made out for several long moments. There was no mistaking the passion in our kiss. We pulled apart and looked at Zoë while we stood there with our arms over each other’s shoulders.

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Zoë stared right back at us. “My God,” she said, “you really were telling me the truth, weren’t you? You really are gay. I didn’t believe you, but…there is no way the two of you would kiss like that if you weren’t.” “Yes!” I said. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Zoë. I care too much about you to lie to you.” “Wow,” she said. “This is…overwhelming. I can’t believe you two just made out in front of me. I could sell my girlfriends tickets to this.” “Girlfriends? You’re gay, too?” asked Marty. “Not that kind of girlfriend, just girls who are my friends.” “Oh!” “He’s beautiful, but not too smart,” I teased. Marty punched me in the side. “I’ve known you two forever and I never guessed. I would never have believed you, but…I guess there’s no denying it now,” said Zoë. “Well, we only started dating yesterday.” “I mean, I never guessed either of you was gay.” “That’s a good thing; maybe no one else will either. I don’t fancy getting my ass kicked,” said Marty. “You can’t tell anyone about us,” I said. “Your secret is safe with me,” said Zoë. “Kiss again.” We did. I felt a bit as if we were putting on some kind of live sex show. “Would you like to watch us have sex now?” asked Marty, devilishly when our lips parted once more. “If you want absolute proof, we’ll give it to you. We’ll do things no straight boy would dare.” Marty actually began to pull his shirt over his head. “No!” said Zoë. Marty laughed and pulled his shirt back down. “I’d like to watch us have sex,” I said. “Later, after I’m gone,” said Zoë. “You sure?” asked Marty, mischievously grinning at Zoë. “Positive!” I sat down on the bed, and Marty and Zoë sat on either side of me. They both took one of my hands. “Am I forgiven?” I asked. “Yes you are,” said Zoë. “I almost can’t believe you’re gay after we…but I guess you are, or bi at least.” “I’m gay, but…what I had with you…Well, I love you, Zoë and that’s no lie.” “I never thought today would work out so well,” said Zoë, smiling. “Me, either.”

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“I’m glad I’m no longer angry with you,” she said. “It didn’t feel right.” “I certainly didn’t enjoy it.” Zoë giggled. “What?” “I was just thinking about you on your knees begging.” “What’s this?” asked Marty. I turned red while Zoë told him about the episode at school. I felt foolish, but it had been worth it. “So…” said Zoë. “You guys have been dating since last night?” “Yeah.” “Have you done more than kiss?” “Zoë!” I said. “No,” said Marty. “I’ve never done anything, period.” “Oh,” said Zoë mischievously, “a virgin.” “I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself,” said Marty. “Consider me the keeper of your secrets. No one will ever find out anything from me.” “Besides,” I said, “if I have my way, you won’t be a virgin much longer.” “Should I leave?” asked Zoë, giggling. “No,” said Marty and I at the same time. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later,” I said. “Right now, we want to be with you. Isn’t that right, Marty?” “It sure is.” “Aww,” said Zoë. “You two are so cute.” “I doubt the guys at school would see it that way,” said Marty. “Well, screw them,” said Zoë. “It’ll be us who gets screwed if they find out.” I turned to Zoë. “I know I hurt you and I’m so sorry, but we can be friends now, best friends. You’ll find yourself a boyfriend, and we’ll always be friends.” “As I said, you’re forgiven.” “Thank you,” I said, so relieved I couldn’t express the depths of my feelings. “Maybe you and I should start dating again, just for show,” suggested Zoë. “That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “It would keep anyone from guessing about the two of you. We’ll be spending time together anyway, so all you’d have to do is kiss me in the halls and hold hands with me now and then. That wouldn’t be too terrible for you, would it?” “No.”

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“It’s settled then. Everyone will think I’m your girl and Marty is your best friend, instead of the other way around. Well, you know what I mean.” Marty and I laughed. “Just one thing,” said Zoë. “If some major hunk like Skye takes an interest in me, you’re history.” “It’s a deal,” I said. Seth entered and jerked to a halt. He looked at Zoë, then me, then back to Zoë, ignoring Marty completely. He was not going to be happy that Zoë and I were dating again, but I seriously doubted he’d have had a chance with her anyway. “I was, uh, just getting my book,” he said awkwardly, then beat a hasty retreat, still stealing glances of Zoë. “He has a crush on you,” I told her after he’d gone. “Aww, that’s sweet.” “He was really excited when we broke up. I think he plans to ask you out.” “But he’s just a little kid!” “Don’t say that to him; you’ll break his heart,” I said. “Oh, no, of course not. I don’t want to hurt him. Besides, he is extremely cute, and he might grow up nicely.” “He’s very muscular,” I said, “even though he doesn’t look it. I’d love to look like him.” “You look fine just as you are,” said Marty. I grinned at him. “He’s not gay, too, is he?” asked Zoë. “No, I just told you he has a crush on you. If he’s gay, he’s putting on quite the act.” “Hmm, I’ll keep him in mind then. In a couple of years he could be looking fine.” “Girls,” I said, rolling my eyes. “They’re such horn dogs, aren’t they?” said Marty. “Oh, like you two aren’t just waiting for the first opportunity to rip each other’s clothes off.” We both smiled guiltily. “I’ll tell you what,” said Zoë. “I think I’m going to go and grab your little brother and take him out. We’ll have ourselves a nice little talk, and I’ll explain the situation to him.” “You can’t tell him I’m gay!” I said.

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“Give me some credit, will you? Your secret is safe with me. I’ll take Seth out, and that will give you guys a good hour or more to rip each other’s clothes off and do whatever it is gay boys do.” “You are the best friend ever,” I said. “And don’t you forget it,” said Zoë. Zoë closed the door as she left the room. Marty and I sat on the bed, gazing at each other. “My parents won’t be back for another hour,” I said. “It would be a real shame to let Zoë down,” said Marty. “I mean, she is keeping your little brother busy so we can be alone.” “Yeah, we can’t have her making a sacrifice like that for nothing.” I stood, walked to the bedroom door, and locked it. Marty left his seat on the bed and met me halfway. We wrapped our arms around each other and kissed. Our lips parted, and we gazed at each other. Marty smoothed back my hair. “I wish I could go on kissing you and holding you forever,” he said. “I’ve nothing better to do.” I smiled at him, and we kissed again. Our kiss deepened and our focus narrowed to just each other, our lips and tongues. Kissing was intimate, more intimate than sex really. I think that’s what I liked about it most, the closeness. While we were kissing, no one else mattered. The whole world might’ve disappeared for all we knew and we wouldn’t have cared. My heart soared. I was so much in love with Marty. I wish I could describe exactly what I was feeling, but to my knowledge no one had ever been able to describe such a feeling. Bliss, joy, and other words come to mind, but unless you’ve felt it yourself, I cannot make you understand. It’s one of those things you recognize when it’s there, but can’t explain, even to yourself, when it’s not. I realized at that moment that I was truly blessed. I held Marty tightly and felt his strong arms holding me close. I too, would have been content to just stand there hugging and kissing forever, but the close proximity of his body to my own was fanning my desire into a white hot ember. I truly did want to tear his clothes away, like some wild animal gone mad. Instead, I ran my hands over his chest, feeling his muscles through his shirt, desiring him with all my heart. Marty was a virgin and likely to be timid, perhaps even frightened. I summoned my courage and pulled his shirt over his head. I ran my hands over his bare chest, then Marty pulled my own shirt away. I didn’t possess his taut muscles, but I’d been working out and eating less, so if I wasn’t the buff boy I desired to be, at least I was closer than I’d ever been before. Marty found me attractive. His hands, like mine, were everywhere.

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A few moments later our jeans were on the floor and our boxers soon joined them. We stood there naked, kissing, hugging, and feeling. I felt as if my body could burst into flames. I reached down and grasped Marty and was surprised when he immediately lost control. He moaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head while his body convulsed. As soon as he was finished, he turned his back on me, and began to cry. “Marty, what’s wrong?” “I’m so embarrassed,” he said. “I wanted this to be wonderful and special and I’ve ruined it.” “You haven’t ruined anything,” I said. “This is wonderful and special. I love you and we’re here together, making love.” “But I…I just…but I couldn’t help it.” “This is your first time, Marty, and I take what happened as a compliment.” Marty turned to me, tears still rolling down his cheeks. I pulled him close and wiped them away. “Don’t be embarrassed, Baby, it’s okay.” I kissed him and kissed him some more. I held him close as we necked, comforting and loving him. When he next looked into my eyes I grinned and Marty laughed. “I’m sorry for getting upset.” “There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all, and don’t worry about what happened. Besides, I can feel that you’ve fully recovered.” Marty pressed himself against me, and I moaned with the sheer joy of it. I kissed him again, while leading him to my bed. Before our time was up I intended to make this an evening he’d never forget. When Zoë returned with Seth more than an hour later, the bed was straightened, we were cleaned and dressed, and there was no evidence that we’d made mad, passionate love. It took only one glance for Zoë to know what had gone on, however. She grinned with the knowledge that we’d made good use of our time alone. I loved Zoë with all my heart. I knew our breakup had to be difficult for her, yet she was selflessly happy for Marty and me. She was a true friend, and I was determined to do all I could to make her happy, too. Zoë suggested we play cards, and the four of us sat on the bedroom floor while Zoë shuffled and dealt out our hands. I don’t know what Zoë had said to Seth, but he seemed happy and acted quite civilized. I got up for a moment and flipped through my CDs so we could have some music. “Seth, do you have my Phantom CDs?” “Your what?”

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“My Phantom CDs. They’re all gone.” I wasn’t obsessed with Phantom like Nick, but I’d grown to love their music, especially after meeting Jordan. “Phantom CDs, what are you talking about? Well, if they’re phantom CDs, you’d expect them to be gone. Right, or at least invisible?” Seth laughed at his own joke, but I felt my blood grow cold and the color drain from my face. I could tell without even asking that neither Zoë nor Marty had ever heard of Phantom. My God, what happened, I asked myself. I felt like I was going to cry. “Sean? Are you okay?” asked Zoë. She and Marty were looking at me with concern, and even Seth had stopped laughing. “Um, yeah…Seth, why don’t you play one of your CDs?” My brother jumped up and put on some of his tunes, while I returned to my seat. Zoë was still looking at me. Marty was bewildered by my actions, so I tried to act as if all was well. I didn’t want to have to explain. I didn’t want Marty to think his boyfriend was several cards short of a full deck. I enjoyed playing cards with my friends, but I was disturbed by my discovery. I knew many things were different here, but I hadn’t been expecting this. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t know Jordan personally. I shuddered when I realized that every single person who was there the day I met Jordan had disappeared from my life—Nick, Ethan, Nathan, and Jordan, were all gone. I hope they still existed, somewhere, but I didn’t even have the comfort that knowledge would have given me. For all I knew they’d disappeared from the face of the earth. My grief over the absence of Nick returned full force, and I suddenly wondered if my newly established relationship with Marty was such a wise idea after all. I struggled to keep a smile plastered on my lips, but it wasn’t easy. I particularly didn’t want Marty to see me as anything other than happy. We’d just had our first time together less than an hour before, after all. What reason could I have for not being happy? Zoë mercifully called an end to our game and went so far as to ask me to walk her home. I could tell Seth wanted to offer, but didn’t because Zoë had specifically asked me. Marty walked along with us, and Zoë purposefully led us in the direction of his house first. When we arrived, I bid him goodbye, wishing I could kiss him one last time before we parted. Instead, I settled for telling him I wished I could kiss him, and he rewarded me with a smile that was nearly as good. When he’d walked inside and Zoë and I were headed in the direction of her house, she turned to me.

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“You really weren’t lying about being from another reality, were you?” she asked, although it was more a statement than a question. “No, but what makes you ask that now?” “I saw the look on your face in the bedroom and how upset you became, despite the fact you were trying hard to hide it. That group, Phantom, they’re really supposed to exist, aren’t they?” “Yes!” I said loudly, almost yelled. “But, you’ve never heard of them, have you?” “No. I take it I should have?” “Yes, they’re only the most popular band in the whole world!” Zoë looked shocked. “You must really like them.” “It’s more than that. You see, I more than like them, I know them: Jordan anyway; he’s the lead singer. His dad was from Verona. Jordan came here and…But that’s not the most important thing. When I realized Phantom didn’t exist here, it just brought back all the pain of having lost Nick.” “Nick?” “My boyfriend. He’s the first person I tried to find when I realized I wasn’t where I was before. I went to his home, but he wasn’t there. It was abandoned. I don’t know where he is or even if he exists here.” Tears began to stream from my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sean.” “I feel guilty. I feel like I’m betraying Nick by being with Marty, but I knew Marty long before Nick, and if I’d known how he felt about me, well…but I didn’t find out about that until he was gone.” “Gone?” “In the reality where I come from, Marty is dead. He was murdered.” “That’s horrible!” “Yes. It’s so wonderful to see him alive and well, and I feel like I’ve got a second chance with him, but I still feel guilty over Nick.” “Well, Nick isn’t here, and you don’t know if he even exists,” said Zoë. She paused for a moment. “Can you go back to where you came from, Sean?” “I don’t know! You see, my friend Marshall—our friend, actually, you know him there—he did something. He changed the past somehow. The second he did it, everything changed, or a lot of things anyway. People who should be here suddenly weren’t, and others I’d never heard of were here instead. I don’t live in the Graymoor Mansion here and…” “Wait a minute. You live in the Graymoor Mansion where you come from?”

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“Yeah, but it’s different there. It’s not a ruin and not so…terrifying.” “It must be different. I don’t know what Graymoor is like where you come from, but here it’s a place everyone avoids. No one who has gone in during the last century has come out again.” “Are you serious?” “I couldn’t be more serious. It’s all in the newspapers. Of course, no one has dared set foot inside it for years and years. The last time was in the late 1980s, I think. Some boys went in exploring, they were showing off and thought they were hot stuff; well, they never came back. A group of people—their parents, the sheriff, and a few others went in looking for them, and they never came back either. Since then no one has dared go inside.” “I’ve been inside.” “Here?” “Yes. I was in Graymoor when Marshall did whatever he did, and suddenly it all changed. I wasn’t inside long. As soon as I discovered it was in ruins and my parents and cousin weren’t there, I ran looking for Nick. I could tell the atmosphere had changed, though, because there was an evil presence that wasn’t there before, and something warned me to leave as quickly as I could.” “Scary,” said Zoë. “Yeah, but anyway, I’m trapped here as far as I know. At least I have no idea how to get back. I guess where I came from doesn’t exist anymore. I suppose it could if whatever Marshall did is undone, but I don’t even know what he did! Even if I did, I sure don’t know a way to travel back in time.” “I didn’t think time travel was possible,” said Zoë. “I didn’t either, but he did it. There was a spell in a book in Graymoor. It was in Middle English. I was able to translate enough of it to figure out what Marshall had done.” “A spell?” Zoë asked incredulously. “You know, your story keeps getting more unbelievable.” “It’s all true, I swear!” “I didn’t say I don’t believe you, just that it sounds unbelievable. I do believe you, Sean, the moment I saw the look on your face in your bedroom I knew all you’d told me was true. It all makes sense.” “I’m glad you believe me. Oh! Something else! The Sean from this reality, the one who was your boyfriend—he was straight, I’m sure of it. So you see, what you had with him was real. It wasn’t a lie.” “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” asked Zoë. “Yes, I…”

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“Don’t you see?” said Zoë. “He’s gone; the Sean who was my boyfriend is gone, and you’re here instead. I’ve lost him just as you’ve lost your Nick.” “I’m so sorry, Zoë. I never thought of it that way.” “Which is all the more reason to put things back right.” “Is that even possible? Granted, I’ve been spending most of my time adjusting to life here and trying to keep people from thinking I’m crazy, but I have given a lot of thought to putting things back the way they were. I don’t think I can do it, because I don’t even know where to begin.” “Your friend, our friend, Marshall, he used a spell, right? Why can’t you do the same?” “I hadn’t actually considered that,” I said, feeling suddenly stupid. “There are problems with that, though. I don’t know how to pronounce the words. I might be able to figure it out pretty well, but I’d never get it exact. One thing Marshall told me about spells is that they have to be exactly right or things can go very wrong. At the time I thought talk of spells was nonsense, but that’s how he described them. There’s no guarantee that the spell would send me where he went. I have a feeling there might be more to it than just the…incantation. Remember, too, that Graymoor has a truly evil reputation here, much worse than where I come from, and the book is deep inside the mansion. “Most of all, though, I experienced a true sense of dread after Marshall worked the spell. I have a feeling that some very evil force may be behind this. Perhaps Marshall was even possessed, or maybe he became possessed by the spell itself. What’s to keep the same from happening to me? Even if I can work it right, how would I get back to before the time Marshall went where he went when I don’t even know when it was?” “Okay, good point, or rather points,” said Zoë, “even if all of this is rather confusing. We should think on this, though. Maybe we’ll come up with something.” “I wish Marshall was here. He’s the one who knows all about this stuff, although he’s always messing with things he shouldn’t. I wish Taylor and Mark were here, too, but there has been so sign of them. I’ve called to them, but they do not come, so I don’t think they exist here, and that’s the most frightening thing of all.” “Why?” asked Zoë. “Who are they?” “They’re angels.” “Angels?” asked Zoë incredulously. “Okay, if you have any other major surprises, I want to hear them right now. I don’t know if I can take much more of this!”

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“Then perhaps you shouldn’t ask to hear more. There are a lot of things you are just not going to believe.” “Tell me.” “Okay, you want the whole story, I’ll give it to you, but the telling will take a very, very long time.” “You’d best get started then,” said Zoë.

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 My steps faltered as I walked toward my truck after school. I halted, staring fearfully at the sight before me. Zac was leaning against the old Ford, which wasn’t unusual, but what froze me in my tracks was the sight of Jeremy standing right there next to him. Jeremy was one of Devon’s old crew, one of the very guys who could not find out about me. What was Zac’s game? I walked closer, trying, and failing, not to show fear as my eyes met Zac’s. Jeremy’s presence disturbed me. “Give me the keys, Ethan,” said Zac. I hesitated, wondering if I could call out for help while there were still others in the parking lot. I knew I couldn’t, however, and handed Zac my keys. He climbed in the driver’s side, and Jeremy gestured for me to get in the truck. I did so, and he followed me. I sat between Zac and Jeremy, nervously looking from one to the other. Zac fired up the truck and pulled out of the school parking lot. He didn’t turn toward his house, but instead headed in an entirely different direction. “Where are we going?” I asked. Zac belted me in the mouth. “Did I say you could talk, fag. Did I?” My eyes darted to Jeremy and he smiled. He knew! I looked back and forth between them again, my heart pounding in fear. Zac was driving us out of town. I knew I was in deep shit. My situation grew steadily worse from there. Zac drove us into Plymouth, and we pulled up in front of a two-story house with green shutters. Zac blew the horn and a kid about our age came walking out moments later and climbed into the truck with us. It was a tight squeeze, but we managed. “This is my cousin, Anthony,” said Zac as he pulled out. “Anthony, this is my friend Jeremy and the guy I told you about. His name is Ethan, but you can just call him faggot or bitch.” - 261 -

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Anthony laughed and eyed me. He was extremely handsome, but had a sadistic look to him that frightened me. I could tell even through his clothes that he was built. In another situation, I would have been powerfully attracted to him. As it was, I felt a compulsion to jump from the truck and take off running. After perhaps half an hour, we pulled up a long lane disappearing into a forest. The lane ended after about a mile. Zac stopped the truck in front of an old cabin—not a log cabin like the one on the farm, but one built of rough timber. It was a fairly picturesque setting, even with the bare trees. There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground, and I would’ve found the cabin a charming getaway had I been there with anyone else. “This is my parents’ place,” Zac said, talking to Jeremy and Anthony and not me. We climbed out of the truck. Zac shoved me toward the cabin, but quickly walked past me. I considered running for it, but I wasn’t that fast, so I figured they’d catch me. There were three of them, and I couldn’t take all of them—no way. Zac unlocked the cabin and we stepped inside. It was primitive, with one big main room and doors that likely went off to a bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. It was chilly inside, but Zac turned up the heat. I gazed around fearfully. “Is anyone else coming?” I dared to ask. Zac grinned evilly at me. “Hoping for a gang bang, queer boy? No, it’s just us. I decided to let Jeremy and Anthony in on our little secret. My parents taught me to share.” “But you promised…” “Promises to pillow biters don’t mean shit,” said Zac. “Then why should I cooperate?” “You think you have a fucking choice?” laughed Zac. “The situation has changed, you worthless piece of shit. If I out you, you’re finished; you’d be dead before the sun went down. Your murdering faggot friends sealed your fate when they killed Devon and Jon. So you can just shut the fuck up and do what you’re told, and maybe I won’t hand you over to the mob.” I was living in a nightmare. This couldn’t be right. It just couldn’t. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. Something had gone horribly wrong. I just knew it. “I can’t wait until they catch those queers,” said Jeremy. “They’ll hang ’em for killing Devon, or maybe they’ll fry ’em.” “Or stuff them in prison so they can be the cell-block bitches. I hear they like pretty boys in there,” said Zac.

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“Until they catch ’em I’ll just have to take my frustrations out on you,” said Jeremy, stepping to me quickly. He kicked me right in balls. I doubled over, and he laughed at me. I jerked my head up, and if looks could kill he would’ve been dead. “What’s wrong, fag. Don’t like it? I bet you’ll fucking love the rest of it, though, won’t you? I bet you’re fantasizing about what we’re going to do to you, aren’t you?” “Why don’t you fucking die!” I said. Jeremy punched me hard in the gut for my defiance, but the pain was worth it. “If anyone is going to die, it will be you, faggot.” “Now Jeremy, there will be no killing,” said Zac in a too-sweet voice. “We have a unique opportunity here. We have our own personal slave, and we don’t want to ruin things by killing him. He’s much more fun alive.” “Yeah, he can’t scream after he’s dead,” said Jeremy glaring at me. Damn, what had I done to deserve this? Anthony’s eyes gleamed with delight when Zac began to order me around, and I did as I was told. You’d think I’d get used to being treated like a slave, but every time was just as humiliating as the first. I don’t want to go into a lot of detail on the sexual acts I was ordered to perform. You have no idea how hard it is to write about my life without sounding pornographic. I was on my knees a whole lot, often with Zac, Jeremy, and Anthony all standing over me commenting on my expertise and calling me nasty names. The humiliation hit me in waves, making me feel like nothing more than a dirty slut. Straight boys, my ass! They wouldn’t have been nearly so interested in my body if they were truly straight. All of them had to be bi at least. I was positive that was an accurate description of Zac and Jeremy. I didn’t know as much about Anthony. For all I knew he was gay. If he was, then it made his treatment of me all the more criminal. I don’t mean that straight boys have some kind of right to abuse gay boys, but a gay guy should have more compassion for one of his own. I got knocked around quite a bit. When I wasn’t doing a good-enough job to suit them, I got a hard slap in the face or sometimes a punch in the gut. All of it hurt, but I was tough. I just wished I could fight back. There were three of them, and I didn’t stand much of a chance with them, but I would’ve derived a great deal of satisfaction dealing out whatever damage I could. Those bastards deserved a good beating if anyone did.

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Zac, Jeremy, and Anthony talked about me as if I wasn’t there. They said I had to become gay because I wasn’t any good at sex with a girl. They did their best to degrade me, and I did my best not to let it get to me. The trouble was, it did. If I’d had an ally, someone to take my side, maybe I could have ignored their remarks, but three against one is tough odds in any situation. I wasn’t even allowed to defend myself. I just had to take it. If I said anything the least bit questionable, I got smacked or punched for it. Once, Zac punched me so hard in the face I thought he might have broken my jaw. It actually brought tears to my eyes. “If you mess me up too much, you won’t be able to charge as much for me,” I said. Zac laughed. “You think those guys pay for your face? You’re fucking ugly, faggot. They pay for those expert lips of yours and that tight ass. Although I guess it’s not so tight anymore.” Zac and the others laughed. I clenched my fist and glared at him. For a moment, I almost went for him. For that brief span of time I thought that whatever would happen to me might be worth a few seconds of pounding Zac’s face in. “He looks too damned defiant,” said Anthony. “I think the bitch needs taken down.” Anthony was rubbing his fist into his hand, looking like he couldn’t wait to lay into me. My face paled. I tried not to show my fear, but I don’t think I was entirely successful. They used and abused me, and after a while my mind didn’t seem to focus. I was badly bruised and had broken bones, for all I knew. I hoped I’d get at least a few days break after we returned. Who would want to pay for a boy who looked like me? Any respite was almost too much to hope for, but what did I have besides hope? Finally, it was all over and we drove away from the cabin. I popped a couple of pills, hoping it would ease my pain. Zac dropped off his sadistic cousin, then Jeremy, and drove to his house. After he went inside I just sat in the cab and cried for a while. I was a wreck. I drove back to the farm and limped inside. It was late. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table. He stood up quickly when I entered, his action letting me know that I must’ve looked like hell. “Ethan, what happened?” “I got jumped,” I lied.

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“You’re going to the hospital.” “Tomorrow, if I need to. Okay? I think I’ll be all right. I just need some rest.” “I’m worried about you, Ethan.” “Can I just go up to bed, please? I promise I’ll ask you to take me to the hospital in the morning if I feel like I need to go. I know I’m a mess, but I’m okay, really.” Jack looked as if he didn’t entirely believe me, but thankfully he let it go. I painfully made my way up the stairs. I went straight to the bathroom, stripped, and got into the shower. The hot water seemed to do my battered body some good, but I flinched when it hit my behind. I was actually bleeding a little, and it gave me a sick feeling. A sob rose in my throat, and I cried right there in the shower. How had my life come to this?

TAYLOR—DECEMBER 1980 The day finally came when we reached Indy. Its bright lights had lit up the sky as we drew nearer, obscuring the stars, but we arrived at last. Our first morning there dawned bright and chilly. I was frightened, and we were all unsure of our futures. The sun climbed in the sky and gave us its warmth, but it was still cold, even when noon arrived. What would have happened to us if we hadn’t met Todd I don’t know, but at the time we weren’t certain of his motives. When he approached us, Mark, Marshall, and I were huddled on a bench for warmth trying to decide exactly what we were going to do now that we’d reached Indy. “Any of you got a cigarette?” he asked. “We don’t smoke,” said Mark. Todd eyed us. He looked about fifteen, had sandy blond hair falling down in his eyes and was shorter than any of us. He probably stood about 5’9” and weighed no more than 130. “You guys live around here?” “No, we’re from out of town,” said Mark. “Have a place to crash?” “No.” “There’s a shelter a few blocks away. I can show you.” “We can’t go to a shelter,” said Mark. “Ah, cops looking for you?” “Something like that.” “I know how that is. I gotta steer clear of the cops, too. Listen, I know a place if you want to come. Some of us stay there. There’s this lot behind an old warehouse where nobody cares if you squat. We’d be glad to have you: safety in numbers and all that.” The three of us looked at each other. - 266 -

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“Don’t worry, it’s safe. I won’t lead you down any alleys to get mugged.” Mark looked at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. Marshall did the same. “You hungry?” asked Mark. “Always,” said Todd. “We were just about to have lunch. We’ll be glad to share, but I can’t promise you’ll like it.” “If it’s food, I’ll like it.” Marshall opened his backpack, which was once again getting too light. He handed out pretzels and some stale donuts we’d practically been given in a small grocery just as we’d reached town. All of us, Todd included, ate slowly. We’d all learned to savor what we had. I didn’t like being on short rations, but one thing I noticed was that I appreciated whatever I did get. The donuts couldn’t have tasted better if they were freshly baked and handed to me on a silver platter. I guess life had a way of compensating those who didn’t have much. Todd filled us in on a few of the details of homeless life in Indy as we ate and tried to pretend we weren’t cold. “The cops here see what they want to see, so if you don’t go into anything big time they’ll leave you alone. If you’re hanging out and they tell you to move on, just do it and they won’t give you any trouble. “Whatever you do, don’t go near the state library after 11 p.m. That’s where the whores hang out. They won’t give you trouble, probably, but their pimps will. All of you guys are a little too pretty to go down there, if you know what I mean. I made the mistake of going there when I was first out on the street, and one of the pimps—Gerry, I think his name was—tried to force me to work for him. He got ugly when I refused, and I ended up with a black eye and a busted lip.” “Damn,” said Marshall. “Yeah, so don’t go down there. Most of the city is pretty safe if you aren’t stupid enough to go down alleys and other places you ought not to be. It’s best to stick with a buddy or even a group.” We told Todd a little about our travels, but were vague about where we’d come from. It paid to be cautious, and we really didn’t know the guy. “You guys ready to go?” asked Todd after half an hour or so. “I guess so,” said Mark. Todd gave us a walking tour as we strolled down the sidewalk. “That’s Miller’s Café over there,” said Todd, pointing to an old-fashioned shop with a red-and-white-striped awning over the front. “The owner leaves all the leftovers out back every night, free for the taking. Next door is Markle’s Gro-

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cery. The owner is just plain mean. He’ll watch you like a hawk, so it’s about impossible to steal anything, and like as not he’ll just toss you out if you don’t look like you have any money.” I noticed that Todd was well-dressed; he looked like any high-school freshman rather than a street boy. He caught me looking at him and could read my thoughts in my gaze. “You’ll do a lot better on the streets if you don’t look too needy. The ragged look is good for begging, but that’s a slow way to get anything. If you’re looking for an odd job or want to have a better chance at getting away with shoplifting or whatever, it’s best to blend in. I get all my clothes at yard sales and Goodwill and places like that. I look like I come from a nice home, don’t I?” Todd laughed. “I’ve even sold some of the real trendy stuff I’ve found for quite a profit. There’s lots of ways to make money, and some of them are even legal. “That’s Edmonton’s Appliances,” said Todd, pointing to a large store on the other side of the street. “The owner will give you a box that a refrigerator or freezer came in, if you ask. Any of the salesmen will get one for you. They’re real good about it.” I cringed at the thought of actually living in a cardboard box, but I guessed it would beat sleeping out in the rain and snow. Before long, the stores disappeared and were replaced by warehouses. I stiffened as Todd led us around the back of a large blue one. I felt we could trust him, but, if not, here was where something bad would go down. Around back was a large open space where a couple of makeshift tents and three cardboard boxes stood near each other, looking somewhat like a small village. It wasn’t exactly an attractive location; then again, it wasn’t too bad either. A girl and two boys, all about our age or a little younger, were huddled around a fire in a barrel, trying to get warm. They smiled at Todd as we approached. “I found some new members for the tribe. This is Mark, Taylor, and Marshall,” said Todd pointing to each of us in turn. “I’m Eduardo,” said a small boy with sad, brown eyes, extending his hand. Eduardo had black hair and dark skin. “I’m Puerto Rican, if you’re wondering about my year ’round tan. I’m sixteen, too, although I know I look younger.” He was right. He looked more like fourteen than sixteen. He didn’t stand over 5’5” and probably weighed no more than a hundred pounds. He was friendly, and I immediately liked him. “I’m Caleb,” said the other boy. “This is my girl, Patti, keep your hands off her.”

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Caleb didn’t move from his spot, but just stood there with his arm around Patti, glaring at us as if daring us to touch her. He had brown hair and eyes and looked strong, but wasn’t particularly handsome. Patti, on the other hand, was quite a looker; even I could see that. She looked so sweet with her blonde hair and blue eyes. “You! Taylor!” said Caleb loudly. “Don’t look at my girl!” Patti looked embarrassed while Todd and Eduardo looked slightly fearful. “You have nothing to worry about, Caleb,” I said. “I have no interest in Patti other than maybe becoming her friend.” I smiled at Patti. It was a mistake. Caleb was in my face in a flash, poking me in the chest. “Listen, pretty boy, I know your type. You think that just because you’re good lookin’ you can have whatever you want. If you so much as touch her…” Mark grabbed Caleb’s arm and swung him around. “Back off!” “Who says?” asked Caleb, puffing out his chest. “Taylor’s boyfriend says, that’s who!” growled Mark. “Boyfriend?” asked Caleb, looking at me and back to Mark. “Yeah, and if you have a problem with that, say so now and we’ll be on our way. We’re not here to start trouble; we’re just looking for a place to stay.” Caleb looked back and forth between us again. “You’re fags?” Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re gay.” “Okay, then,” said Caleb. “Guess I made a mistake. Wait a minute, though; how do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you don’t plan on jumping on Patti sometime when I’m gone?” “Were you born this paranoid?” asked Mark. “Gee!” Mark stepped to me, took me in his arms, and gave me a passionate kiss. When our lips parted, he draped his arm over my shoulder and looked back at Caleb. “Is that proof enough, or would you like to watch us have sex?” Caleb put his hands up in front as if warding us off. “That’s okay, I believe you.” He turned to Marshall. “Are you a fag, too?” “No, but I won’t touch your girlfriend, I promise,” said Marshall, who seemed rather frightened. “Okay, then.” “So, we’re all cool now?” asked Todd. There was agreement all around. We hadn’t met everyone yet, since some of the tribe, as Todd called them, were sleeping or were out and about, but I had the feeling Caleb was the major hurdle to leap. Caleb relaxed considerably once he

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found out Mark and I truly weren’t interested in Patti. He eyed Marshall a bit suspiciously, but didn’t seem to see him as a great threat. “Where are you from, Taylor?” asked Patti. “Up north.” “Canada?” “Not that far north.” “I like your hair,” she said, running her hand through it. “It needs to be evened up a bit, though.” I looked at Caleb, but he didn’t seem to care that Patti was touching me. Apparently he was convinced I had no interest in girls, and, of course, he was right. “Watch out,” said Todd. “You’re about to become Patti’s next victim.” Patti stuck her tongue out at Todd. “I cut everyone’s hair for them,” she said. “Just a minute.” Patti disappeared into one of the makeshift tents and came back out with a comb, a pair of scissors, and a small mirror. Without asking she began trimming my hair. It took a good half hour before she was pleased with the results. “Here, take a look,” she said, handing me the mirror. I gasped when I looked at my reflection. It was the first time I’d gotten a good look at myself with short black hair. It was like someone else was looking back at me from the mirror. “You don’t like it?” “No, no, it’s great,” I said quickly. “I’m just amazed at the change.” Patti smiled. A small blond boy came crawling out of one of the large cardboard boxes. His long hair nearly reached his shoulders. He was very cute with his green eyes, turned-up nose, and finely drawn features. “This is Chandler,” said Patti as the boy emerged, stretching, yawning, and rubbing his eyes. He’d obviously just awakened, even though it was getting to be mid-afternoon. The little group seemed more or less nocturnal. Chandler looked to be about thirteen. I couldn’t imagine being homeless when I was his age. It was scary enough at sixteen. Chandler was just a kid. Moments later, Chandler was followed by a larger version of himself, with even longer hair. The boy was clearly Chandler’s older brother. “And that’s Chase,” said Caleb. “He’s buy-sexual. That’s B-U-Y sexual. If you buy him something, he’ll have sex with you.” Caleb laughed. “Shut up, Caleb,” said Chase.

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“This is Marshall,” said Caleb. “And this is Mark and Taylor; they’re fags.” Caleb turned to us. “Chase is a fag on demand, so I guess you guys have a little in common.” “You talk way too much!” said Chase. “How ’bout I slug you in the mouth to shut you up!” Patti pulled Caleb away to safety. Chase let her. “So you’re new in town, huh?” asked Chase, looking as over. “Yes.” “Yeah, you guys will do all right—especially you two,” he said, gazing at Mark and me. “Not everyone wants to be a whore, Chase,” said Caleb. “I thought I told you to shut up! You’re just jealous because you’re too ugly to get paid.” Chase laughed. Caleb looked angry, but kept his mouth shut. What an interesting little group we’d joined. “If you guys want, I can show you the ropes.” “Um…we were going to see if we could pick up some odd jobs or something,” I said. Chase laughed. “You look scared to death, Taylor. It’s not so bad. Hell, Chandler here keeps us well supplied with baked goods. He and the owner of Browne’s Bakery have an arrangement, don’t you, Chandler?” His little brother didn’t answer, just turned slightly red. Patti moved in. “Why do you have to talk about such things?” she said as she took Chandler by the shoulders and led him away. I was truly disturbed by what Chase had just said. That kid was selling himself for baked goods? What kind of messed up world was this? “Don’t look so freaked out,” said Chase. “Chandler doesn’t have to do much—just let Mr. Browne drop down to his knees in front of him. I’d spell it out for you, but I wouldn’t want to upset Patti any more than necessary.” He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for offering to help us out,” said Mark, “but we’d like to see what we can come up with first.” “Suit yourself, but the offer stands. Hell, I could get a finder’s fee for you two from some of my regulars, I bet. Yeah, they’d really go for you guys. I could even hook you up, Marshall.” “Maybe later,” said Marshall, awkwardly. Chase laughed. “So you guys are queers?” asked Chase. “We’re boyfriends,” said Mark.

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“Well, I’m bisexual. I never could decide which I liked best, girls or guys, so I just gave up thinking about it.” Chase grinned. He had a certain charm to him. I was a bit disturbed by his profession, but I wasn’t going to judge him. He was just trying to survive in a world that should have taken care of him, but didn’t. We all sat down on the grass and talked. Even Caleb joined us. Apparently his angry exchange of words with Chase was a regular thing and never came to blows. We were joined after a bit by another girl, Brooke, and two more boys, Ike and Mason. Brooke was fifteen and had brown hair and pretty brown eyes. Ike was sixteen, extremely tall, probably 6’4” and painfully thin. I doubted he weighed as much as I did. His hair was sandy brown and his eyes chestnut. He was a good-looking kid, despite his lanky appearance. Mason was of average height, a bit chubby, and fifteen years old. He had dark red hair and green eyes. I looked around the circle. It was Tuesday afternoon, and every one of us should have been sitting in a classroom somewhere, but somehow we’d all ended up here instead. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of what the future might hold for us, but if these kids could make it, then surely Mark, Marshall, and I could as well. Maybe I was being optimistic, but the alternative was too frightening to think about. “Okay, we’re all here,” said Chase. “I’ll tell you new guys the score. First off, we don’t want anyone here into heavy drugs, so if you’re into using anything stronger than pot then get the fuck out. We don’t have time to deal with anyone into that shit, and it’s fucking stupid to waste that kind of money. We had a couple of heroin users in the group one time, and, well, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. “We all take care of ourselves, but we look out for each other, too. If we come up with more food than we can eat or whatever, we share. We also help out any one of us who isn’t doing so well, but everyone has to pull their weight or they’re out. If someone gets sick, we try to take care of them.” A look of pain crossed Chase’s handsome features, and I wondered if there was someone they couldn’t take care of. Brooke’s lower lip began to tremble, and she sniffled. Chase looked at her, then back at us. “You might as well know; we lost one of us not too long ago—Adrian. He was fourteen, and he worked the streets like me, and he caught something, if you know what I mean. He always had a cold or some shit like that, then he got pneumonia and died.” For a moment, Chase himself looked as if he might cry.

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“Anyway, we always try to have a couple of us here guarding our stuff. We don’t have much worth taking, but this is all we got. So, that’s the rules if you guys want to stay.” “It sounds good to me,” said Mark. “Me, too,” I said. “Count me in,” said Marshall. A bit later, Todd took us to Edmonton’s Appliances where we procured two huge refrigerator boxes, one for Mark and me to share and the other for Marshall. We lugged them back to the lot and set them up near each other and close to the others. Todd gave us two big sheets of plastic which we draped over the top to protect the boxes from rain and also to fall down in front, forming a sort of door. We placed our backpacks inside, and we unpacked. We spent a good deal of the remainder of the day looking for work, but found nothing. None of us was expecting life to be easy from here on out, and it looked as if we weren’t mistaken. I yearned for the days I was hiding out in Graymoor and raking leaves for a living. ✶

✶

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We kept trying for some form of employment day after day with absolutely no luck. Our funds grew ever more meager as our frustration and fear increased. We were surrounded by the squalid city. Ours was a world of drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes, and pimps. It wasn’t anything to see someone shooting up heroin or snorting cocaine. I thought stuff like that only happened in the movies. Our little tribe was a safe enclave. There were no serious drug users in our group, although some smoked, most drank, and two or three smoked pot. It was a rather tame crowd compared to the world around us. Our boxes and tents were arranged in an oval around a central point, and I often thought of them as wagons driven into a circle against Indian attack. Things grew steadily worse by the day. We were always hungry. We stretched what little money we had as far as it could go. Chandler regularly showed up with rolls, loaves of bread, and even cookies and cakes for the whole group, and we greedily and gratefully scarfed them down. I cringed thinking of what Chandler did to get us that food. Mark, Marshall, and I became known as the best bargain hunters, so our contribution to the group was largely in making what little money everyone had go the farthest. While seeking work we also dug into clearance bins and watched for sales. We were able to get food for a fraction of the usual cost in that way. Most

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of the time we didn’t have what we wanted to eat, but we had food, and that was something. I knew Mark and Marshall were as worried as I was over our situation. One evening while all the others were gone, Mark and I discussed it. “We need to talk,” said Mark. “Our funds are nearly exhausted. We’ve tried and tried, and we’ve earned almost nothing. I think someone’s going to have to make a sacrifice soon, and when that time comes I want it to be me.” “What do you mean?” I asked fearfully. “Chase can get me work,” said Mark, then his voice trailed off. “No, Mark, you can’t do that!” “Taylor, I don’t want to do that, but what else are we going to do? I’m not going to sit here and watch you starve. I see you hungry, day after day, and it’s so frustrating that I can’t do anything about it!” “I don’t like seeing you hungry either, Babe.” “I know that, Tay. I know it’s just as hard for you, and if we could manage to just keep on going as we are now, then we’d struggle through; but we aren’t making it, Taylor. Soon, we’ll have nothing at all. The only thing we’ll get to eat is what Chandler brings, and you know what that boy is doing to get that food.” I nodded. I didn’t like to think about it, but I knew. “The others will help us out for a while I’m sure, but we’ve got to pull our own weight, and there’s only one way I can think of to do that.” “I’m not letting you do that for me,” I said. “If it comes to that, we’ll both do it.” “No, we won’t. I can make enough for both of us. I don’t want you selling yourself on the street.” “And you think I want you doing it?” “I know you don’t, Tay. I know how hard it will be. I’m still praying it doesn’t come to that, but we’re getting so close. What I’m really doing is asking you for a favor, Babe; prostituting myself won’t be nearly as hard as watching you do it, so I’m asking you to let me do this for us. Let me be the one. This will be a lot harder on you than it will on me. I know it would tear me up inside if you were the one going out and selling yourself to get food. Please don’t make me go through that, Taylor; I couldn’t bear it. Let me be the one, please.” My mind was reeling. What could I say? Mark was right: The greater torment would come to the one of us who sat back and let the other prostitute himself. When I thought of having to sell myself, I was filled with revulsion and fear; but the thought of Mark doing it was ten times worse. “I think we should both do it,” I said.

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“No, I can make enough for us both. At least allow me the dignity of knowing that I’m saving you from that fate. It will make it a lot easier on me.” I put my head in my hands and began to cry. How did we come to this?

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 “Hey, tough stuff.” I looked up from working the combination of my locker. “Brandon, hey.” Brandon stopped dead in his tracks when he saw my face. “Damn, what happened to you?” “Some guys danced on my face.” “Shit, are you okay?” “I’m sore, but I’ll live…probably.” “Who was it?” “I didn’t recognize them. They were probably from out of town and looking for trouble. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “You seem a little nervous, Ethan.” “Well, I did get beat up last night. It was NOT a good time.” “I don’t mean just now. I mean the last few weeks. You’ve changed. You seem edgy and often kind of spaced out.” “What are you trying to say, Brandon?” I was beginning to get slightly angry. I realized immediately I wasn’t being fair, but Brandon was hitting a little too close to a truth I could not share. “I’m saying that if you’re having problems, I’m here for you.” It wasn’t what I expected him to say. I was anticipating some kind of lecture and prying questions. His concerned, friendly tone of voice cracked right through the brave front I was putting up, and I felt a sob rise up in my throat. If Brandon only knew how badly I needed help. “Listen,” said Brandon. “I’m not trying to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but I know you’ve been through a lot recently. The whole thing with Mark and Taylor, Jon’s death, and Nathan disappearing—all of it has to be diffi-

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cult for you. I know it has been for me. I keep feeling like I’m trapped in some twisted, screwed-up nightmare that never seems to end.” “That’s really weird. I’ve been feeling pretty much the same thing.” “I guess it’s only natural. I mean, four of our best friends are gone. One of them murdered another, even if it was an accident. Things like that shouldn’t happen. Personally, I don’t know how much more I can take, and I know it’s getting to you. You’re a wreck, Ethan, and I’m not just talking about what just happened to you. It’s as if you’re not the same guy anymore.” “I’m not,” I said sadly. “Let me help you.” “If you only could, Brandon, but you can’t. No one can help me now.” “Ethan, you’re scaring me. What’s happened to you? There’s something else, isn’t there, beyond what happened to Mark, Taylor, Jon, and Nathan?” “Yes,” I said quietly, staring at my locker door. “What happened?” “I lost my self respect.” “I don’t understand.” “That’s as much as I can tell you. It’s as much as I can bear for you to know.” “Please, Ethan, you’re in trouble. Let me help you.” “You can’t; no one can. I’m lost.” “But, Ethan…” “I will tell you this, Brandon. If I thought there was some way you could help me, I’d ask for help. I’ll consider what you said. I’ll remember your offer.” “Hey, Ethan!” Brandon and I both turned to see Zac and Jeremy headed toward us, smiling, acting as if we were the best of friends. Jeremy eyed Brandon warily, as well he might after getting his butt kicked, but Brandon made no move toward him. I could tell he wasn’t pleased by Jeremy’s presence. I wondered what Brandon thought of Jeremy acting all buddy-buddy with me, but then I wasn’t overly friendly with Jeremy. I couldn’t let on how much I despised him, but there was no way I was going to act like his friend. “How are ya’ feelin’?” asked Zac, as if he cared. “I’m okay, still sore.” “I bet you are, buddy, but we kicked some ass last night, didn’t we?” Zac and Jeremy grinned at me. I despised them with every ounce of my being. They knew it and knew also that I couldn’t let it show. Brandon looked at Zac and Jeremy confused. “Didn’t you tell him?” asked Zac.

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“Huh?” I asked. “Let me guess,” said Zac, “you were telling Brandon some bullshit story about how you were jumped and beat off five guys all by yourself.” Zac laughed. “No.” “The three of us got jumped last night,” said Zac to Brandon. “There were five of them—mean fuckers, too. I didn’t think we were gonna get out of there, but we fought them off, didn’t we, old buddy?” Zac smacked me on the back and I winced. “Sorry, Ethan.” Yeah, I bet you’re fucking sorry. “Neither of you look like you’ve been in a fight,” Brandon said to Zac, then added “recently” as he looked at Jeremy. “Yeah, well, we’re light on our feet, aren’t we, Jeremy? Both of us were lucky enough not to get belted in the face, but one of those dudes got me in the nuts, and it killed. I’d much rather look all banged up like Ethan here.” “Listen,” continued Zac, “a bunch of the guys are getting together for a little football right after lunch, why don’t you join us?” “Football? It’s cold out! Besides, we wouldn’t have much time to play,” I said. “Yeah, we’ll just have a few minutes, but that kind of takes care of the cold part, doesn’t it? Come on, Ethan, you aren’t too big of a pussy to face a little cold, are you?” “I’m kind of sore to be playing,” I said. “Come on, man, it’s just what you need to work the soreness out. Jeremy and I are playing. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.” Zac’s lips said one thing, but his eyes said, You’ll play or I’ll fucking out you, bitch. “Yeah, I’ll play.” “How about you, Brandon, you want to join, or is football too tough for you?” “Fuck you, Zac. I’ll be there, and we’ll see who’s tough.” Brandon was talking to Zac, but he was eying Jeremy. I would’ve bet anything he planned to knock him on his ass. Jeremy, for his part, looked nervous. “Great,” said Zac, rubbing his hands together. “This is gonna be a blast!” I had trouble sitting still in my classes, because my behind was fiercely sore. I hoped Zac, Jeremy, and Anthony hadn’t done some real damage. I wasn’t bleeding anymore, though, so I guessed I was okay. I wondered if I hadn’t made a mistake in not going to the hospital. I don’t mean that I thought I needed medical

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attention, although perhaps I did, but rather that if I’d been examined, I would’ve had some concrete evidence that Zac and the others had abused me. What good would that have done, though? Would there have been enough evidence to put them away for what they’d done to me? Of course, they were all minors and probably would’ve gone into juvenile detention rather than jail. Although, from what I’d heard it was just about as bad. A trial would’ve been humiliating for me in any case. I didn’t think I could have stomached going into the details of what had transpired between Zac and me in front of a lot of people. It would be in the papers, too, and for all I knew on local TV. Even if I won, everyone would know I’d been sexually abused. How could I show my face in Verona if everyone knew the truth? It was bad enough having to look Zac and Jeremy in the face every day, but after a trial it would be a thousand times worse: I couldn’t look anyone in the face then. I didn’t even know if Zac and the others would be found guilty or what their punishment would be if they were. What if they only got a few months in juvenile detention or were just put on probation? I didn’t know much about Anthony, but everyone thought Zac and Jeremy were star athletes and model citizens. They might walk away Scot-free. Even if they got years behind bars for it, I’d be ruined. Zac would out me, of that I was sure, but he wouldn’t even need to. If there was a trial, the truth would come out. Everyone in town would know I was a fag. Everyone hated fags. They would hate me more than my attackers. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d be the real loser, so I guess it didn’t matter that I hadn’t been checked out by a doctor. A trial would be a painful, humiliating ordeal, and no matter how it turned out my life would be over. I sank into depression as the realization hit me. There was truly no way out. Brandon sat right across from me during lunch, and I remembered his words of that morning. I couldn’t let him help me as he wanted to, but the mere fact he was there for me meant a good deal. I wished I could go to him for help, but he was in deep enough as it was. He’d really pushed it by standing up for Mark and Taylor. Zac dragged me out of the warm cafeteria and into the cold December air for his stupid game of football. Brandon tagged along, as did Jeremy, and I was surprised to find half a dozen guys there already. Within a couple of minutes there were about eighteen of us outside the doors to the cafeteria. Zac and Jeremy picked teams. I was Zac’s first pick, and I eyed him suspiciously. If he was planning to make me look foolish he was in for a disappointment. I didn’t play on the school team, but I knew plenty about football.

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Exactly what Zac was up to didn’t become immediately apparent, although I received an early clue. Before he hiked me the ball on the first play, Zac turned around and told me to keep my hands to myself. I didn’t know what he was talking about and thought nothing of it until later. Our short game was actually kind of fun; I even scored. Brandon flattened Jeremy and that was even more satisfying than my touchdown. Just as I began to believe that Zac had no ulterior motive, it appeared. Zac was in front of me when he turned around, shoved me hard in the center of the chest and yelled, “Keep your hands off me, faggot!” I was stunned by his comment. I hadn’t even touched Zac, and it was the last thing I expected him to say to me. He’d been playing the part of my closest buddy for a long time and now this. “What?” I asked, incredulous. “You fuckin’ felt my ass!” “I did not! I was getting ready for you to hike the ball to me. Football, remember? I never touched you.” “Oh, yes you did,” said Jeremy. “I saw you, but it looked to me as if you were trying to grope his nuts.” “You guys are crazy,” I said. “I’m outta here!” I walked away, my head spinning. What was their game? Later, I confronted Zac about it when I met him in the hallway. “What was that supposed to be?” I asked him, referring to the incident. “Lighten up, Ethan. It was just a bit of fun.” “Well, I didn’t think it was very damned funny. We have a deal.” “Don’t get your panties in a twist, bitch,” said Zac and walked on. I glared at the back of his head. I wished someone had been around to hear him say it was just a joke. I was afraid some of the guys playing football with us would believe I’d really tried to feel up Zac. Zac’s demeanor changed from that moment on, and it frightened me. I couldn’t figure out his game, but I was sure he was up to no good. He wasn’t waiting on me at my truck when school let out. While I found Zac’s absence a relief, especially considering the condition of my posterior, it made me uneasy. I tried to tell myself he was giving me a bit of a rest after having used me so hard, but it was unlike Zac to take my comfort into consideration. I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. An evening without Zac was cause for celebration. I actually experienced happiness as I did my chores on the farm—the real thing! I began to think about Christmas. It was early December, but Christmas was coming and it was my favorite season of the year. It would

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have been nice to have shared it with a boyfriend, but I never had before, so I guess I wasn’t missing anything. Maybe Zac would let me out from under this thumb as a Christmas gift. It was unlikely, to be sure, but I could hope. The next day at school, Zac eyed me sullenly. He acted as if I’d wronged him. Jeremy gave me the cold shoulder, too, and several of the guys who’d played football with us the day before eyed me suspiciously. “What are you playing at?” I asked Zac when I got the chance to speak to him alone. “What do you mean?” “You know damned well what I mean!” Zac slapped me hard in the mouth. “You don’t speak to me like that! You’re my little bitch. Have you forgotten that? Do you need a reminder?” “I get a reminder every time I sit down,” I said, looking around to see if anyone had seen. Zac laughed. “My cousin is a sadistic bastard, isn’t he? I knew he’d be fun.” “What kind of game are you playing with me now?” I asked. “What happened to your buddy-buddy routine?” “I’m not telling you anything, faggot. I’m playing with you because that’s what you’re for. You’re my toy.” It was obvious I’d be getting no answers from Zac.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I didn’t return home until ten; even so, I hadn’t told Zoë anywhere near the whole tale. I’d promised to continue at the next possible opportunity, however. The good news was that, unbelievable as it all was, she believed me. That alone showed she was a friend. Anyone else would’ve just thought I was a nut case. Having someone to talk to about the whole mess was a far greater relief than even I would’ve imagined. Just having one person hear the truth and not think I was totally insane helped me a great deal. Now if I could only figure a way out of the mess I found myself in. A part of me didn’t want to change things back to the way they’d been. If I did, I’d lose Marty all over again, and Ken and Tony would be gone, too. Things weren’t as they should be, however. Oliver should have been alive and well and dating Clay and not rotting away in his grave. I thought of Clay for a moment. I hadn’t seen him. Was he missing from this reality, too? My mind was divided, to say the least. I had plenty of reasons to want to change things back and plenty of others to want to keep them just as they were. Nick and Marty were the key factors, however. If there was no Marty here, there was no question I would’ve been all for going back. If there had been no Nick where I came from, I would not have wanted to return. I loved them both with all my heart, even though that might sound like a contradiction. I knew from experience that no matter how much I loved someone, there was always room for loving another. Seth was asleep when I returned, which was just as well. I knew Zoë had told him we were back together. He seemed to be fine with it in front of her, but I didn’t know if he was displaying his true feelings or putting on an act. I doubted he’d be able to put his feelings for her aside with ease. All in all, it had been a wonderful day. Zoë and I were friends again, and at last she knew the truth and believed it. Marty and I had made love for the very - 282 -

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first time. I needed some more of that as soon as possible, and I fell asleep with the happy thought that Marty undoubtedly felt the same. ✶

✶

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✶

It wasn’t until a week later that the dreams started—horrible, nightmarish dreams in which those I loved died before my very eyes, often in great pain. Sometimes I woke up screaming, sometimes crying, and sometimes both. The dreams were so vivid that they felt absolutely real while I was dreaming them. I began to fear sleep itself. Had it not been for the dreams I would have been happy. My friendship with Zoë was secure and enjoyable, and my relationship with Marty was filled with love and passionate love-making. I actually pitied the prejudiced bullies around us, for I knew they were not likely to experience such love. It was Marty and me against the world, and the danger added an excitement and passion that those not persecuted couldn’t begin to understand. I would’ve rather lived in an accepting and loving world, but as I had no choice in the matter, I sought to make the best of things. I found myself wondering if this is how things had been for Taylor and Mark. This was 1998, but it was almost as if the calendar had been pushed back to 1980. Nick and I had been afraid at times, but we’d dared to be out. In that reality, everyone knew we were dating and gave us relatively little trouble. In this reality, Marty and I could not dare to proclaim our love for each other. I had little doubt that we’d both be beaten senseless if we did and most likely gruesomely murdered. In my world, Ken Clark had been quite the gay-rights activist, but in this one he was lying low. He could no more be the same in this reality as in the other than I could. The environment would not allow it, being definitely anti-gay. It was as if someone had come along and erased nearly twenty years of progress. It saddened me. I wondered if there would ever be a time when prejudice didn’t exist. There always seemed to be some downtrodden group—gays, blacks, Jews, Irishmen, Mexicans, women, and many, many more. At one time or other, it seemed just about everyone had been a minority. When would we learn? I tried not to think too much about the big picture. I couldn’t change the world. I doubted if I could even improve my little corner of it, except on a very small scale. At least I could make life better for Marty by being his loving and accepting boyfriend. I’d brought understanding to Zoë, and who knew how many she might influence in her lifetime? That’s probably what brought about

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real change anyway, not massive political movements, but one person showing another that prejudice was wrong, that the feared minority group of the moment wasn’t so bad or different after all. ✶

✶

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✶

On one of our many walks about town, Marty and I visited the cemetery. I had not yet visited Oliver’s grave and thought it time to do so. Marty knew just where it was. He’d visited and even placed flowers on it, since he’d known Oliver was one of his own. I looked down at the tombstone of a boy who should not be dead, while I stood by the side of one who should have been. Most of the world was unchanged, but what changes there were made all the difference. Marty had no idea he was supposed to have been murdered some months before, and poor Oliver couldn’t know that he was supposed to be alive and dating the boy of his dreams. Perhaps it was best that way. Maybe it was a good thing indeed that only Zoë and I knew the truth. I found myself wishing I didn’t know the truth, either. Perhaps ignorance is bliss. I just stood there reading Oliver’s name carved so deeply into his tombstone. I thought of how he’d died. I wouldn’t have wished that death on my worst enemy. Oliver sure didn’t deserve it. He was nothing but an innocent kid. How could someone do that to him just because he was gay? I led Marty to the graves of Taylor and Mark, but had a surprise awaiting me. The grave markers weren’t there. I was sure of the location, but instead of the familiar tombstones standing side by side, there was only an empty space of grass. I wondered what had happened to them, since they obviously had not died when and where they were supposed to. Were they still alive, but somewhere else? Were they together, or had they never met? I felt as if all of history had been undone, or at least the last several years of it. I froze and stood as still as a statue for a moment. I thought of what Marshall and I had been talking about just before he undid reality as we knew it. I’d spoken of my grief over Marty, and we’d talked of Taylor and Mark. Could it be? Was that what he’d done? Had he gone back into the past to save Taylor and thereby save Mark, resulting somehow in a changed timeline where Marty was never killed? I wondered if I should mention it to Zoë. Marty and I returned to my house after visiting the cemetery. We made out briefly on my bed until we heard Seth coming up the stairs. The presence of a little brother in my life was cramping my style.

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Seth was a pain, but he had turned out a whole lot nicer than I thought he’d be in the beginning. He even seemed to accept that I was once again dating Zoë. He wouldn’t tell me what she’d said to him, but he was content. He continually hugged her whenever she came over and gave her kisses on the cheek. I don’t think Zoë quite realized that Seth was probably getting more out of those hugs than she thought—the little horn dog. But I didn’t have to deal with an irate brother, so I didn’t worry about the situation. I felt almost as if I was cheating him somehow. I was dating Zoë when I had no real interest in her, and Seth wanted her so badly he practically drooled when she was near. I knew Zoë didn’t think of Seth like that, however, so I guess I wasn’t taking anything away from him. If she did take such an interest in him somewhere down the road, then I’d step aside. That night I had another nightmare. Marty and I were back at the cemetery. In my dream I reached down to trace the carved letters of Oliver’s name on his tombstone. I screamed as a hand shot up from his grave and grabbed my wrist. Panic-stricken, I fought to free myself from the cold grasp of Oliver’s dead fingers, but his grip was superhuman. As I screamed and flailed, his other hand clawed its way free of the grave and grabbed my other wrist. Oliver slowly pulled himself from his own grave, his dead, lifeless eyes staring into my own. I was crying and screaming for Marty to help me, but when I turned to look at him, Marty was gone, replaced by a zombie Nick. “Slut,” he said, his voice slurred. “You never loved me. You just used me and tossed me aside.” “That’s not true!” Nick’s once handsome face was bluish gray and rotting. His hair fell out in clumps as he staggered toward me. I shrank from him but was still held in Oliver’s vice-like grip. “Did you grieve for me at all before you hopped into bed with Marty?” he asked, accusingly. “I didn’t know you were dead! I looked for you, but you weren’t there!” “Unfaithful,” he said, pointing a bony finger at me. Nick closed in on me, and Oliver pulled me toward his own grave. “No. No. No. No!” I was sitting bolt upright in my bed, my chest heaving, tears flowing from my eyes, my heart pounding. Seth was staring at me from his own bed. “Another dream?” he asked. I nodded, too frightened even to speak. It had seemed so real. Even though it was gone, I could still feel the fear and the emotions. I’d brought them with me

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into the real world. I lay back down but did not close my eyes. I never wanted to sleep again. Every night it had been the same. Well, not the same; each nightmare was different. I never knew what horror awaited me when I closed my eyes. Each was a frightening, emotionally wrenching experience. I was treated to a nightly horror mind-fest, starring my friends and family—dead, dying, suffering, or some combination of all three. It would have been bad enough if I was dreaming of some hideous monster chasing me, but these were dreams spawned in hell. I awakened with each nightmare fairly clear in my mind, but each slowly faded until I was left with nothing but a vague memory and a lingering sense of dread. Was there really enough guilt inside me to create such terrible visions? I hadn’t killed Oliver or any of the others. I’d done nothing to bring about their deaths. Some of those I dreamed about were very much alive and well. If anyone was responsible for those who were dead in this reality, but living in the other, it was Marshall. I’d had no chance to stop him. By the time I realized what he was doing, it was too late. Even then, I wasn’t sure. Was I being punished for being too slow in thought to make a difference? This last dream was a short one, but it might well have been the worst. Nick had not appeared in one of my nightmares before. His accusing stare was unbearable. Maybe I had given up on him and moved on to Marty too quickly. Maybe I wanted to be with Marty just a little too much. I sincerely doubted I would have begun dating any other boy so soon. I would have waited, hoping and praying that somehow Nick and I would come together in this life, too. I had a chance to regain what I thought I’d irrevocably lost and had grasped for it without thinking. Was that really so bad? When Marty was killed, I mourned not only him, but the relationship I could have had with him. I found out after he died that Marty had been romantically interested in me. A potential boyfriend had been right there under my nose, and I’d never suspected it for a moment. When I lost Marty, I lost not only my best friend, but the deepest desire of my heart. Wasn’t it only natural to try to recapture my dreams? On the other hand, I should have been faithful to Nick. I truly loved him, and now I felt as if I’d abandoned him at the first opportunity. For all I knew, my situation was temporary and I might find myself back where I belonged at any moment. I had no idea if that was the case, however, and more than likely I’d be stuck right where I was forever. It wasn’t as if Nick had gone off on vacation for a week and I’d cheated on him the moment he left. If Marshall hadn’t fouled up my entire life, I would have stuck by Nick’s side forever—until death do us part and all that. But my life had changed in ways I could’ve never imagined, so what

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was I supposed to do: sit and wait for a boy who would most likely never come or even recognize me if he did? I hated how my dreams stirred up my guilt, tormenting me. I knew Nick would want me to be happy. If he’d died, he would’ve wanted me to find someone to love. Things were far more complicated, though. Nick hadn’t died; reality had shifted, and I didn’t know if he even existed. If I waited for him, I might well be waiting for someone who wasn’t even real. No, I would not allow my latest nightmare to torment me. I was not responsible for Oliver’s death, and I knew Nick would want me to be doing exactly what I was doing. After all, what I wanted most for him was happiness. If he did exist here, I wanted him to find someone to love who’d love him in return. I wanted him to find another boy to grow old with. I loved Nick and I wanted nothing but the best for him. I knew he felt exactly the same way about me.

SKYE—DECEMBER 1997 The days just flew by. The holiday season arrived with unbelievable speed. I mean, it was Halloween, and all of a sudden it was Christmastime. On Christmas Eve, my sister, Janelle, and her son, Colin, flew in from California. Mom volunteered me to drive up to the South Bend Airport to pick them up. She said it was so that she could get everything ready for our big Christmas Eve dinner, but I suspected it was really so she and Josh would have some time alone together before the house got crowded. Janelle and Colin were staying through New Year’s Day. Josh was spending Christmas with us. His parents were taking off for Hawaii and leaving him behind. Josh’s dad had received free airline tickets and accommodations from his boss, who’d planned to take his wife. She had come down with the flu and the trip was non-refundable, so it was Merry Christmas for Josh’s parents. They didn’t have the money to take Josh, and he wasn’t all that interested anyway. It was all arranged that he’d stay at my house for the duration of their trip. I bet his parents would have freaked out if they knew what was going on between Josh and my mom. Happy Holiday appropriately played on the radio as I drove up to South Bend. It had snowed the night before and was snowing again, but the roads were fairly clear. I arrived half an hour before my sister’s flight was due to touch down. The airport wasn’t large and there wasn’t much to look at, but at least Janelle’s flight was on time. I hugged her as best I could with a toddler in her arms. It was my first look at my nephew. He was a handsome kid and looked disturbingly like my baby pictures. No, don’t even think it, I love my sister, but I’m not into incest. You perv. One advantage of a small airport is that it didn’t take long at all to get Janelle’s luggage. It was a good thing I was buff, because otherwise I couldn’t have carried all her bags. It looked like she’d packed to stay a whole year! - 288 -

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Janelle strapped Colin into the baby seat in the back seat of the car. When Mom found out they were coming, she rushed out and bought a baby seat as well as a lot of other junk she thought might be necessary for the visit of a toddler. The relationship between Janelle and our mother had been rocky when she’d left, but they’d more or less made up now. I was thankful for that. My life didn’t need more drama. I pulled out of the airport and headed back to Verona. “There’s something you should know before we get there,” I said. “Mom has a boyfriend.” “Does she? That’s wonderful.” “Well, he’s kind of young.” “How young?” “Sixteen.” “Sixteen? Are you kidding me?” “Nope. Remember Josh?” “Of course, I remember Josh.” “Well, he’s her boyfriend.” “Skye, I’m not that gullible.” “I’m serious! I swear to God I’m telling the truth.” “Whoa, little Josh?” “Yep, except he’s not so little now.” “Neither are you, little brother, you were buff when I left, but damn…I bet the girls are all over you.” “Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Are you serious about Mom and Josh?” “I’m serious.” “This is…unexpected,” she said. “Are you okay with it?” “Yeah, mostly, sort of. I wasn’t at first, but I got used to it pretty fast. He makes her happy, and they both seem a good deal happier now that it’s all out in the open.” I didn’t mention they’d started their relationship when Josh was fourteen. I didn’t want Janelle to think of our mom as a child molester. If Mom wanted to tell Janelle how long she’d been dating Josh, that was her business. “Josh will be staying with us for the holidays. His parents have gone to Hawaii.” “That must be nice. Do they know about Josh and Mom?” “Hell, no. No one knows, except Mom, Josh, me, and now you.” “I guess it would raise eyebrows.”

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“It would ruin my life. Do you have any idea the razzing I’d take if the guys knew Josh was dating Mom?” “I can imagine,” said Janelle, laughing. “Sure, you can laugh.” “This is going to take some getting used to,” said Janelle. “I’ve managed, so I’m sure you can, too. Josh isn’t your best friend, after all.” “True, but I used to baby sit for him. This is a delicate question that I probably don’t need to ask, but do Mom and Josh have a physical relationship?” “Duh! They fuck like rabbits!” “Skye!” “Well, they do. That’s how I found out about them: walked right in.” “That must have been embarrassing.” “Traumatic is more like it, for all of us.” “Well, I guess Mom’s secret is out and mine obviously is, too, since he’s sitting in the backseat. When are you going to reveal yours, Skye?” A sense of panic engulfed me, and I’m sure my face paled. Before I could stop myself, I’d jerked my head in Janelle’s direction. My reaction to her offhand comment was a clear admission of guilt. If I’d been cool about it, I could have just told her I had no secrets. I gave it a shot, anyway. “Me? I have no secrets. I’m merely the gorgeous hottie you see before you.” Janelle rolled her eyes. “You are such a bad liar. Spill it.” My panic increased. Yeah, like I was going to tell my big sister my secrets. I could start with “I’m a queer” and go right on into “I’m blackmailing Jimmy into having sex with me” and maybe throw in “I masturbate to the tape I made of Greg and Jimmy doing each other.” “My secrets will be buried with me,” I said. “I’m shocked,” said Janelle, placing her hand on her heart. She laughed. “Well, if you ever have anything you want to talk to me about, I’m here for you, little brother.” I was a bit frightened she knew or suspected something, but there was no way she could know my secrets. My fear passed, and I smiled at her. “Thanks, Sis.” “The snow’s really coming down. It was 75 when we left this morning.” “It sounds like the life. I wouldn’t mind hanging out on a beach at Christmas.” “I’ve missed the snow—and the cold. I bet you would, too, if you lived in California.” “I sincerely doubt it.”

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We pulled up in front of the house about an hour after we’d left the airport. I could see Josh through the window stringing lights on the tree. “Dad used to do that,” I said, feeling a momentary tug at my heart. “I’m sure Josh won’t mind if you call him daddy,” said Janelle. I flipped her off, then grabbed her bags while she untangled Colin from the back seat. The front door flew open, and Mom zoomed toward us like a hawk power-diving onto a rabbit. She grabbed Janelle and hugged her so hard I thought poor little Colin might be crushed to death. He was next on Mom’s hit list. She pulled him from Janelle’s arms and said, “Hello there, Colin. I’m your grandmother!” Mom beamed at Janelle. Whatever arguments there had been between them were obviously forgotten. It seemed grandkids solved everything. I hoped Mom would be content with Colin, because she wasn’t getting any grandkids from me—not on purpose anyway. We were ushered inside where Josh left his task of decorating the tree and shyly wiped his hands on his pants, no doubt wondering if I’d told Janelle about his relationship with Mom. I thought it might be fun to torment him. “Janelle, you remember Mom’s boyfriend, don’t you?” Josh blushed and Mom looked a bit stricken, but Janelle hugged Josh and all was well. He looked at me wide-eyed as she squeezed him. “You look so handsome in that sweater,” Janelle told him. He blushed again. “He’s taken, Janelle,” I said mischievously. Mom shot me a look, but quickly returned her gaze to Janelle. She was probably wondering if her daughter’s acceptance and good humor would hold. Janelle smiled at Mom, and Mom released an audible sigh of relief. I was willing to bet Mom had been wondering how she’d explain Josh to Janelle. I’d said nothing about telling her, but it had been my plan all along. It was sort of an extra Christmas present to Mom and Josh. I took Janelle’s bags to her old room. Mom fussed over Janelle and Colin, while I was all but ignored. Mom had even temporarily forgotten about her teenaged boyfriend. I joined Josh in stringing the lights on the tree, while Mom and Janelle made for the kitchen. Mom was still clutching her grandson, of course. “Thanks for letting me be here,” said Josh. “I know this is probably kind of awkward for you.” “It’s okay, and besides you belong here. I know how much you mean to Mom, and don’t forget you mean a lot to me, too.”

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Josh actually stopped what he was doing and hugged me. “Isn’t my mom enough for you? Get off me, you homo,” I said, but I was smiling. “Don’t make me take you to the woodshed, boy,” said Josh. “Yeah, like you could handle me. Now let’s go bring up the boxes of decorations from the basement before I have to kick your ass.” Mom, Janelle, and Colin joined us in the living room a few minutes later as we began to place ornaments on the tree. Josh and I did most of the work. Mom was far too busy holding Colin and dashing off every couple of minutes to check out our Christmas Eve dinner. The scents of roast turkey, dressing, and apple pie wafted into the living room, making my stomach rumble. Janelle helped us quite a bit, except when Mom handed off Colin for one of her trips into the kitchen. Anyone who didn’t know us would’ve thought a mother was spending Christmas Eve with her three children while they all waited for their father to get home from work—a real Norman Rockwell moment. What they wouldn’t realize is that the father was permanently gone, and one of the sons was actually the mother’s boyfriend! If that wasn’t enough to ruin the picture, the other son was as queer as could be! I nearly laughed out loud at the thoughts I was having. I gazed out the window at the falling snow and stopped to put on a Christmas CD. The instrumental version of O Tannenbaum from A Charlie Brown Christmas began to play. Maybe our Christmas wasn’t suitable for a Norman Rockwell painting. Then again, maybe it was; rarely was anything what it seemed. I looked over at Josh as he hung a red ornament on the fragrant balsam bough. I was amazed at how well I was dealing with the whole best-friend-dating-my-mother thing. At first I thought I’d never grow used to the idea, but it really wasn’t so bad after all. It was the way things were, and I could fight against it and make everyone miserable or just accept it and go on. I made the same decision I did when I found out I was gay. It wasn’t what I wanted, but there it was, so I sucked it up and went on my way. I wondered how many people would totally freak out if they discovered I was a homo. It wasn’t going to happen, of course, but I was willing to bet it would floor a lot of people, especially the girls I’d done. A lot of my classmates would probably think I was bi since I’d gone all the way with girls before. There was a very short time when I’d convinced myself of that, but I knew I was pure homo. Yeah, I could get it up with a girl, but I was thinking of guys while I was doing it. I could father a kid, too, if I wanted, but I wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone missing the Y chromosome.

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We finished decorating the tree just before it was time for dinner and not a moment too soon. I was about ready to drop from hunger. In addition to the items I’d smelled from the living room, there were mashed potatoes, corn, hot rolls, cranberry sauce, a decorated Christmas cake, and some kind of caramelized cake with walnuts. There wasn’t a lot of talk during dinner. We were far too busy stuffing our faces, Josh and I particularly. The snow was really coming down outside. The view through the kitchen windows was nearly one of pure white. It was a good thing none of us had travel plans, because it looked as if no one would be going anywhere. If you’ve no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow; that would make for a catchy song, wouldn’t it? After dinner we sat around in the living room talking and dozing. It was an uneventful evening, and that was fine by me. I enjoyed being off work for once and having my big sister home for the first time in two years. Josh even seemed like family now. Christmas music played softly in the background, and the lights of the tree glowed in the growing darkness. Mom lit candles instead of turning on the lights. She sat in the loveseat with Josh. I think she truly appreciated the acceptance shown by Janelle and me. Josh was getting increasingly more at ease, too. We were settling down into a nice little nontraditional family. I wondered if my family would accept me if they knew the truth. What would they do if I brought home a boyfriend? I wasn’t really the relationship kind of guy. I was way more interested in hot, hard sex than holding hands and walking in the moonlight, but I would’ve felt far more comfortable if I knew I could kiss a boy in front of Mom, Janelle, and Josh without them keeling over from shock and disgust. It was likely a forlorn hope, however. If you were queer in Verona, you might as well be a serial killer, a child molester, a rapist or something like that. The things I heard said about fags in the locker room sometimes made my skin crawl. The way they talked about sex between two guys made it sound disgusting. They were such hypocrites. Let’s face it, if homo sex is disgusting, so is hetero sex. Some people are grossed out by the idea of a guy taking it up the butt, but hell, some girls do it, too, and what about a guy performing oral sex on a girl? Talk about gross! I don’t even wanna go there. We all turned in early—Janelle and Colin to her old room, me to mine, and Mom and Josh to the room once shared by my parents. I missed the nightly service provided by Jimmy, but I was giving him a couple of days off, and he couldn’t have made it in any case due to the snow. Nothing was moving in the

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sudden blizzard outside. I drifted off to sleep so quickly I didn’t have much time to think about Jimmy. Since there were no young children in the house, we didn’t get up too early the next morning. Well, Colin was young, but at just under two he was too young to understand the concept of presents. Josh and I were the next youngest, and at sixteen we were more than willing to wait in exchange for sleeping in. I made my way into the kitchen a little before nine. Janelle was feeding Colin, and I made myself a cup of tea. I wasn’t used to sleeping in and was still bleary-eyed. Why was it that I felt more tired when I got more sleep? I guess it was just one of the mysteries of the universe. Colin was a messy eater. I didn’t understand the allure of kids. They were expensive, loud, and they smelled bad. Colin was okay, but I would’ve been happier if Janelle had just gotten a dog or something. A toddler wasn’t any fun at all. Maybe I’d warm up to him eventually, but I doubted it. Josh came in soon, poured himself a cup of coffee, and joined us at the table. He smiled at Colin and even held him so Janelle could make herself a cup of tea. He played with the kid as if he actually liked it. “Do you think you might want one of your own someday?” asked Janelle. “Definitely,” said Josh, “but not too soon.” I didn’t know if I liked where the conversation was going. Josh’s son could be my brother. “So what are your plans for after high school?” asked Janelle. “College, but I’m thinking seriously of attending school as close to Verona as I can. I used to think I wanted to get as far away as possible, but now…well, things have changed. Betsey is incredible, and I can’t bear the thought of being too far from her.” It was surreal to hear Josh refer to my mom by her first name. Janelle seemed to be adjusting much more quickly than I was. “Do you realize if you marry Mom you’ll be my dad?” laughed Janelle. “I sure never thought that would happen back when I used to baby sit for you.” “If I do marry your mom, there will be no baby-sitting stories, young lady,” said Josh in what was apparently supposed to be his grownup, fatherly voice. “Just think, Colin will be your grandson!” “Hey,” I said, “you should marry Mom now. You’d be the only guy in high school with a grandkid.” I laughed. “I’d be dead is what I’d be if my parents found out…” “Ah, yes, Verona, the land of secrets,” I said, wishing I hadn’t. Janelle looked at me oddly. I busied myself with drinking my tea.

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“Do you really think you might marry Mom?” asked Janelle. “To be honest, I want to. I know I’m too young right now, but someday— maybe when I finish college—yeah. I guess you think it’s pretty stupid, huh?” “I don’t think that at all,” said Janelle, and she obviously meant it. Mom rescued us from the topic by entering the kitchen. She set to making our traditional Christmas breakfast, or rather brunch. Ever since I was about ten and could be talked into delaying the opening of presents, we’d had a Christmas brunch mid-morning, followed by the opening of gifts. When I was younger, I’d been bribed into waiting by being allowed to open one present before brunch, but that was no longer necessary. Mom always made French toast, omelets, hash browns, and bacon for our Christmas brunch. A late meal worked well because of the large Christmas Eve dinner we traditionally had the night before. The bacon smelled heavenly— everything did, really—but I always loved the smell of frying bacon. I didn’t have it too often because of the fat. I always made sure not to overeat. I wanted to be able to see my abs, after all. Christmas was an exception to the rule. On Christmas Day I ate as much as I wanted. We sat around the table as we had the night before and enjoyed a leisurely brunch. This was a more relaxed meal, as none of us was quite so hungry. We ate far more slowly and actually talked. The French toast was incredible. It was always good when Mom made it, but on Christmas we had real maple syrup to go with it. The omelets were filled with green and red peppers, Mom’s nod to the season, as well as onion and chives. I liked mine with just a touch of hot sauce. The bacon was the best: thick and fried just right, not too crisp and not too limp. Christmas brunch just might have been the best part of Christmas Day. Once we all finished, which took quite a long time, we retired to the living room with cups of coffee or tea. I handed out presents. Colin didn’t pay much attention to his. He was far more fascinated with the paper than the actual gifts. I felt a touch jealous when Mom opened a beautiful sweater, then a bottle of nice perfume from Josh, but I told myself I was being foolish. My position was not being usurped. It was hard not to think that way since Josh was my age, but his relationship with my mom was quite different from mine. I think I did a rather nice job of hiding my not-so-attractive feelings. I gave Mom a bread maker, and she was quite pleased. I knew Janelle was into gardening, at least she had been, and things almost had to grow well in California, so I gave her some gardening books and a subscription to a gardening magazine. I gave Josh some CDs I knew he’d like. I’d thought of giving him a big box of condoms as a gag gift, but I was afraid Mom would not be amused, and it

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would have been a bit awkward for all of us. It was one of those ideas better to think about that to actually put into operation. I received a subscription to a fitness magazine from Josh and some cologne. “Are you trying to say I smell bad?” I asked him. “It wouldn’t be polite to say,” said Josh with a comical expression on his face. Somehow he managed to look as if he did indeed think I smelled, but also that he was trying to hide the fact. Mom burst out laughing. I think everyone was well pleased with their presents. We never went crazy at Christmas like some families. We tried to find things the recipient would really like rather than just buying a bunch of crap. We were all quite drowsy by the time the last gift was unwrapped. Josh and I retired to my room so he could listen to his CDs. We lay back on the bed, and it wasn’t long before both of us were snoozing. I awakened an hour or so later when Josh shoved me away. “Get off me, fag.” He was just joking around, but I had curled around him in my sleep. My front was pressed against his back, and my right arm was draped over him. I was embarrassed, but didn’t let on. “You wish!” I looked out the window at the falling snow. “Man, it’s still coming down out there.” I paced around the room like a caged animal. “I’ve got to do something. I can’t stand being cooped up in here like this. Want to go to the gym and work out?” “It’s closed.” “We both have keys, duh!” “Oh, yeah!” I rolled my eyes. “I’m supposed to be dumb because I’m blond. You don’t even have an excuse.” “Fuck you, Skye!” “Now who’s the homo?” Josh punched me in the shoulder then went to look out the window. “You think we can make it?” “We’re big boys, Josh; at least I am,” I said, gazing meaningfully at his crotch. He flipped me off. “Got any boots I can borrow?” “Yep.”

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Josh and I suited up for our arctic adventure. I wasn’t all that far to the gym, but it was icy out. We told Mom and Janelle where we were going and took off. The snow was almost knee deep until we reached the street. The snowplows were busy even on Christmas, and the street in front of the house was reasonably clear. I took off running then slid, turning a full circle before coming to a halt. “I’m going to laugh when you fall on your ass,” said Josh. “It’s not going to happen. I’m far too graceful.” It took us a bit longer than usual to get to the gym, but it wasn’t a bad trip. Our cheeks were rosy, and mine were a bit numb, but otherwise it was just a stroll in the sunshine, or in this case under a cloudy sky. I unlocked the doors, then relocked them behind us. I flipped on the lights, and we walked back to the lockers. We stripped out of our heavy winter clothing, right down to our boxers and socks, then put on workout shorts: mine Abercrombie & Fitch, of course. Josh wore Calvin Klein boxers, and he looked damned good in them. Josh and I had always been close, almost like brothers in a way. It was that closeness than kept my sexual desires from being aimed too directly at Josh. I must admit I’d thought about doing it with him, but it always somehow seemed wrong. Josh did have a nice body. He didn’t have my size, but he was lean and firm and nicely shaped. It was easy to understand what my mom saw in him. I pushed such thoughts away quickly. Parents and sex didn’t mix. My mom had obviously had sex before. Janelle and I were walking proof of that, but I didn’t like thinking of her as a sexual being. All humans were, but when it came to parents, most of us didn’t want to think about it, and I was no exception. I hit the ab machine first. For the last few months I’d been using a set of ab crunches as a warm up for the rest of my workout. I still did my usual three sets of crunches at the end, but I started with them, too. They stretched me out nicely and warmed me up so I was less likely to get an injury. Injuries sucked. I still remember when I pulled my left pec doing a butterfly with free weights when I was fourteen. I could feel something was wrong as I was bringing the dumbbells down and dropped them as fast as I could, but I’d already overstrained the pectoral muscle on the left side of my chest. I had to work out with light weights for a month while waiting on my muscles to repair themselves. I didn’t want to go through that again. I hit the bench press for my first exercise. I liked to work out my chest first, because that was the main area I was interested in developing. I liked to start with the bench press, go on to butterflies, then on from there. Josh did pretty much

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the same workout, mainly because his was patterned on mine. A lot of guys did what I did because they wanted to look like me. Josh’s bare chest looked damn fine as he worked out his pecs. I had a sudden urge to lick him. There are certain lines that shouldn’t be crossed, however. Josh was dating my mom, and I wasn’t about to put the moves on him. It would just be too weird. Damn, I needed Jimmy’s services. I hadn’t realized how dependent I’d become on the daily blowjob I made him give me. He was getting damned good at it, too. Having a personal sex slave was a dream come true, and to think it all happened because Greg Whitmore couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I really should’ve been making Greg pay the price, too, but I wasn’t as hot for him, and he was still recovering from being shot by Landon. Still, maybe it was time to think of making Greg serve me, as well. What use was power and control if one didn’t use it? I continued to gaze at Josh’s sleek torso as he worked out. He was lean, with not an ounce of fat on him, and had bulges in all the right places. He caught me checking him out, but I was wise enough not to pretend I wasn’t looking. That would have been an admission of guilt. As it was, I could pass my interest off as pure observation. “You’re getting pretty buff,” I said. “Yeah, watch out, Skye; I’m gonna pass you up.” “In your dreams.” “In my reality.” “Don’t make me laugh, you puny bitch.” “Jimmy sure passed you up.” “He did not. Jimmy was always out ahead of me. If he wasn’t a cheater, he…” I stopped in mid-sentence, realizing what I was saying. “Cheater?” “Yeah, um, he started working out younger than I did.” I thought it was a damn nice save. “That’s not cheating, Skye; that’s intelligence. “Whatever.” “Skye, can I ask you something about Jimmy?” “What? I’m not A&E Biography, man.” “No, seriously, Jimmy seems kinda…Well, it’s like he’s scared of you or something.” “Yeah, he’s scared I’ll pass his ass up. He knows I’m right behind him.” “No, it’s not that. Sometimes he’s got this look on his face when he’s near you, as if he’s afraid you’re gonna belt him or something; then sometimes he glares at

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you when you aren’t looking, as if he hates your guts. Did something happen between you two?” “Nah, we’re just rivals is all. Sometimes I hate his guts, too.” Josh looked as if he didn’t believe me, but he let it go. I thought Jimmy and I had been doing a damn good job of pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, but maybe we hadn’t done quite as well as I’d thought. I wondered if anyone else had noticed the change. I guess it wasn’t a big deal. There was no way anyone was going to find out what was really going on. Hell, they wouldn’t even believe it if I told them. Running my muscles through their paces gave me a heady sense of exhilaration. I loved feeling all toned and pumped. The only problem was it horned me up, too. I guessed I’d have to fall back on relieving the pressure the old fashioned way. I knew it wouldn’t be the same, however. I yearned for Jimmy’s talented lips. Damn, there had to be some way I could take him to college with me. We finished our Christmas Day workout an hour or so later and headed out into the snow again. There were a few cars moving about and a few kids out playing in the streets, but all the shops were closed, of course. We passed one Christmas display after another, their lights glowing through the shop windows. Once we crossed into the residential district there were brightly lit Christmas trees in just about every window. It was mid-afternoon, but the clouds, heavy with snow, made it seem more like twilight. I was usually all for sun and warmth, but on Christmas Day the cloudy skies and snow were to my liking. It’s just too bad winter couldn’t be limited to the week of Christmas. Yeah, fifty-one weeks of summer and one of winter; that seemed about right. The rest of Christmas Day was enjoyable, but not exciting to hear about, so I won’t bore you with the details. My need for Jimmy’s services increased exponentially as the hours passed. He was like a drug. I just had to have my fix, and when I didn’t get it I suffered from withdrawal. The Ab Crunch opened back up the day after Christmas, but my hours were irregular since I had to take Mrs. Xander’s daytime shift while she was gone on vacation. I didn’t mind, because I was bored out of my skull at home and there was no school, but it did make hooking up with Jimmy impossible. Josh had the evenings and nights so I wasn’t there at ten p.m. as usual. I could’ve ordered Jimmy to meet me at the gym at closing, but that would’ve made Josh suspicious. Mrs. Xander had hired on a couple of college guys, Dan and Rod, to help out during her vacation. Apparently they, too, were bored at home. They went to school far, far away: in Boston and New York City. If I’d come back to Verona from either of those places, I would’ve been bored, too. Mrs. Xander had already

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shown them the ropes, so they weren’t much trouble. I was glad to have them available, however, because otherwise it would’ve just been me and Josh running the place from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. every day of the week. I normally wouldn’t have minded extra hours, but Janelle was only home for a limited time, so I wanted to see her while I could. I didn’t see Josh at work, since we weren’t working the same hours. Mrs. Xander had scheduled one or the other of us to be on with Dan or Rod during peak hours. I saw Josh plenty at home, however. It was kind of weird to have him living there, even temporarily. After four days of abstinence I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’d been whacking it like a madman, but it just wasn’t the same. I truly pitied all those guys who went for months and even years without getting any. My desire for Jimmy was at a fever pitch and I wanted to try something new. It’s not that I was bored with the blowjobs, not at all, but I wanted more. During one of my few days off I called Jimmy and told him to get his ass over to my house. Josh was at work and Mom and Janelle had taken Colin out to search for after-Christmas bargains. I had several hours before their return. Once Mom and Janelle began shopping, there was no stopping them. They’d made shopping into an art form. I knew I was taking a bit of a risk, but the slight edge of danger only added to my excitement, not that I needed more: I was about to bust a nut. Jimmy showed up looking fine in a green sweater and jeans. I took him to my room and ordered him to strip. Damn he was gorgeous, even more so than I am. Yeah, I know you’re thinking what a conceited dick I am, but I don’t really care what you think. If you were as hot as I am, you’d think you were hot stuff, too; what’s more, you’d be right! I stripped completely naked, too, then commanded Jimmy to get on his knees. I loved the way he obeyed without resisting. I’d broken him, and it gave me no end of satisfaction. It was even better than the sex, believe it or not, and that’s saying something, because the sex was incredible. No girl could hold a candle to Jimmy, now that he’d had some practice. I won’t be vulgar and describe his technique. If you wanna read that kind of thing, you’ll have to go somewhere else. I’m sure you pretty much know what Jimmy was doing anyway, and if you don’t, well, this isn’t sex-education class. I nearly laughed for a moment. I’d taken sex-ed, and it was nearly worthless. Even if I’d been a hetero, it wouldn’t have taught me much. I finished way too fast. I was just too worked up. If Jimmy had been a girl I would’ve been worried he’d gossip about my premature ejaculation, but I knew

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Jimmy wasn’t telling anyone. Jimmy stood up and reached for his boxers, but I grabbed his wrist. “We’re not done yet.” “But we always…” “Yeah, I know what we always do, but today we’re going further. The girls have been too busy with all their holiday crap to put out for me, so it’s your turn.” “What…da…ya mean?” asked Jimmy nervously. “I mean you’re going to lie down on your back and be a girl for me.” “Fuck no, I’m not!” “You’ll do what I say!” “Not that, no fucking way! Having to blow you is as far as I go. I’m not into this homo shit!” “Need I remind you that you’re my little bitch? You’ll do it now and anytime I want.” “No, I’m drawing the line here, man.” “You’re in no position to make deals,” I said, walking to my dresser drawer and pulling out a tape. I put the tape in the VCR and pushed play. I had the tape queued for just such an occasion. On my small TV screen was Jimmy, going down on Greg. You couldn’t see Greg’s face in the shot, but that hardly mattered. “How would you like all the guys on the team to get a copy of this?” I asked. “I’m sure your girlfriend and your parents would just love one, too. Oh, and Coach Gil.” “Please, Skye, come on! You wouldn’t really do that, man!” “Try me.” “I’m begging you, Skye, don’t do this to me, please. Any girl in town will put out for you. Can’t you just wait another day or two? I’m sure something will turn up for you.” “Jimmy, I’ve got something right now, you, and I bet you’ll be tighter than any girl I’ve had.” “This is sick man! Come on, we’re both guys! You can’t be into this homo shit!” “What I’m into is making sure you know you’re my bitch. I know you, Jimmy; if I don’t show you who’s boss, you’ll get cocky on me. We’re two of a kind, but I have the upper hand.” “You’re the boss, okay? I’m your bitch! Just please don’t make me do this!” “Ah, but Jimmy, this will make you remember it forever.”

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I nearly took pity on him, the poor little straight boy, but then I remembered what guys like him did to boys like Landon and Oliver. They didn’t cut the gay boys any slack, did they? I didn’t know Landon all that well and Oliver not at all, but did they deserve what happened to them? Maybe I was being cruel, but the world was a cruel place. The strong dominated the weak and took what they wanted. I wanted Jimmy’s anal virginity. Okay, I truly can’t tell you what happened next without getting totally pornographic. I wouldn’t mind that too much, but I’m not sure if you could take it. If you’re into that sort of thing, you can think about it all you want; nobody is stopping you, but all I’m gonna say is that I did to Jimmy what I said I would. I know it hurt him some, although I wasn’t trying to make it painful. It was the most amazing sensation I’d ever experienced before. I’d done a few girls, but none of them had felt as good. Doing it bare made it even better. My world was perfect. Perfection never lasts. About five seconds after I finished the most intense climax of my entire life, my bedroom door opened. I whipped my head around, still inside Jimmy. Josh entered, followed closely by my sister. “It’s just over…Holy Fuck!” said Josh, his voice going from normal to a shout. I jumped up, but it hardly helped to hide what was going on. I might as well have still been thrusting into Jimmy. “Oh, my God!” said Josh, his mouth hanging opened. Janelle was standing there looking more embarrassed than I’d ever seen her. There was Jimmy and me, completely naked. The tape of him having sex with Greg was still playing—more incriminating evidence to hang me, not that any was necessary. “You, you…Oh, God, this is sick!” said Josh. Janelle led Josh out of my room, closing the door behind her. Jimmy looked at me, stricken. “We’re both going down now, Skye. You’ve just fucked up your life and mine! Thanks a lot, asshole!” I thought Jimmy was going to strike me. Instead, he pulled on his boxers and began to dress. “You just keep your mouth shut about it,” I said. “I’ll keep Josh quiet.” “You got something on him, too? Are you blackmailing the whole fucking world?” “Just let me handle it. Don’t freak out. We’ve got to be cool about this. If nothing else, we can just deny it. Even if I can’t stop Josh and he tells everyone,

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we’ll stick together on this. No one is going to believe it anyway, are they? If necessary, we’ll turn it back on Josh. I’ll take care of it.” “With a friend like you, who needs an enemy,” said Jimmy, clearly disgusted. I noted, however, that he was beginning to calm down considerably. I began to dress as Jimmy finished. After he departed, I put away the tape, put my clothes on, and walked into the living room. Josh and Janelle were sitting there talking, no doubt about me, because they fell silent as I approached. “I’ll talk to you first,” I said to Josh. “I have nothing to say to you!” he growled. “Well, I have plenty to say to you. Come on.” Josh didn’t budge. “You can come to my room of your own free will or I’ll drag you there,” I said, crossing my arms and flexing my muscles. Josh angrily stood and stomped toward my room. My eyes met Janelle’s. She didn’t seem nearly as surprised to find Jimmy and me together as Josh did. She didn’t seem surprised at all. I followed Josh to my room and closed the door. “You just stay over there,” he said. “Don’t come near me, you fag.” “I’m not a fag.” “Well, what the fuck was that I saw when I walked in? It sure as hell looked like you fucking Jimmy!” “Oh, it was exactly what it looked like, but you misunderstand.” “I misunderstand what?” “I’m not gay,” I lied. “I was just proving a point to Jimmy. I’ve got something on him, and I’m using it to my advantage. I’m going to be quarterback and team captain next year because Jimmy won’t dare stand in my way.” “You’re blackmailing him?” “Yeah, and he was causing me some problems, so I showed him who was boss.” Josh just stared at me. “What have you got on him?” he finally asked. “You saw the tape.” “So Jimmy’s a fag?” “You got it,” I lied. “I fuckin’ hate faggots, but I’ll tell you one thing: You’re no better, Skye. What I saw you doing to Jimmy was just too gross for words. How could you…” “Hell, he probably liked it,” I said. “You’re sick, and I still think you’re a fag.”

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“Listen, I don’t care what you think of me, but you’re going to keep your mouth shut about this. You’re not going to go around spreading rumors. If word gets out about Jimmy, I won’t be able to control him anymore.” “What if word gets out about what I saw you doing to him?” threatened Josh. “Then I’ll know you’re the one who talked.” That’s all I said, but the threat of violence was implied. Josh knew I’d fuck him up bad if he breathed a word about what he’d seen. “Fuck, I bet you groped me while we took that nap, didn’t you? I can’t believe this! My best friend—my former best friend—a faggot!” I grabbed Josh by the throat and cocked my fist back. I was trembling with anger. It was all I could do to keep myself from smashing his face. As it was, I squeezed his throat hard. He slowly turned blue. A part of me didn’t want to stop. “If you ever call me that again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Josh’s eyes were wild with terror. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him bad. I finally released him, and he grasped his throat, gasping for breath. “You’re a fucking psycho,” he said backing away. “And don’t you ever forget it,” I said, grinning menacingly. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, Skye, for one reason and one reason only—your Mom. It would break her heart if she found out what a disgusting piece of filth you’ve become. You make me sick! We aren’t friends anymore, got it? I don’t even want to be near you, but I’m going to act as if everything is cool between us for her sake.” “Fine,” I said. “As long as you keep your mouth shut, I don’t care why.” Josh stormed out of my room. When he was gone, I locked the door and sank down on my bed. I felt like crying, but I didn’t; I was far too tough for that. Still, it hurt to have years of friendship end just like that. I’d wondered for a long time what Josh would think if he discovered I was gay. I’d lied to cover it up, but I didn’t know if he believed me. I guess it didn’t matter anymore. We were finished. It was going to be damned hard to pretend nothing had changed, but I wasn’t going to hurt my mom by getting into it with Josh in front of her. I’d have to cool it big time for her sake. I realized as I sat there that Mom must have come home with Janelle, but where had she been during all this? Why wasn’t Josh still at work? I guess one of the other guys could have been covering for him. The reason hardly mattered. Mom, on the other hand, mattered very much. What if she’d overheard? I got up, unlocked my door, and walked into the living room. Mom was sitting there holding Colin. Josh glared at me as he stood behind her, but then

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smiled when he came into mom’s line of sight. Janelle was gazing at me, too, but trying to act as if an intensely dramatic scene hadn’t just played itself out a few minutes before. I looked at Mom again. If she had any clue about what had happened, she didn’t show it. “Skye, would you like to go for a walk?” asked Janelle. “You and I haven’t really had a chance to talk since the drive down from South Bend.” “Yeah, sure,” I said. I walked to my bedroom to dress for a long winter’s walk, then returned to the living room to wait on Janelle. She wasn’t long in coming, but it felt like an eternity under the gaze of my former best friend. Janelle and I stepped out into the falling snow. “I’m sorry,” said my older sister. “You’re sorry?” “This is my fault. I wanted to borrow your Discman, and Josh said he knew just where it was. We thought you were gone. If I had any idea…Well, I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know any of you had returned, and Josh was supposed to be at work.” “We’d only been home for a couple of minutes. Josh arrived just as we did.” “Did Mom hear anything?” I asked. “No. She was still outside with Colin when we…walked in on you, and she was in the kitchen when you and Josh were shouting at each other. I turned on the TV and went and talked to her so she couldn’t hear.” I looked at my big sis for a moment, then looked away. I still couldn’t believe she’d walked in and seen Jimmy and me going at it. So this is what it felt like to be on the other end. I’d walked in on Josh and Mom, and now Josh and Janelle had walked in on Jimmy and me. “You don’t seem terribly surprised by what you saw,” I said. “Well, I was shocked because, like I said, we didn’t know you were home, but as far as what you were doing…well, I’ve had suspicions about you for a long time. I don’t mean that in a bad way, Skye; it’s just that ever since you were a kid, I just had this gut instinct that you were gay.” “Well, your instinct was dead on.” “I suppose your harem is just a cover?” I grinned. “A cover and a release. A guy has needs, you know.” I paused. “Do you think I’m a coward for hiding what I am?” “You’re anything but a coward, Skye. I think you’re smart. Nothing freaks people out quite so much as homosexuality.”

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“It just wrecked my friendship with Josh, or rather his prejudice wrecked it.” “I assumed as much when I saw the look on his face when he returned. Do you think he’ll cause trouble?” “No. I threatened him, and he said he’d keep my secret, for mom’s sake. We’re going to pretend to still be friends, for her.” “I don’t know if that will work very well, Skye. The hostility between the two of you is pretty obvious.” “We’ll get better at covering it up, around Mom at least.” “Are you okay, little brother?” “I’m tough. It hurts to see my friendship end with Josh, but on the other hand, if he’s going to be such a dick about it, he can just fuck off. Everything else in my life is awesome now. I don’t need him.” “Well, if you want to talk, I’m here.” “Thanks, Sis,” I said and gave her a hug. “So, what do you think of your little brother being a homo?” I asked. “I love you no matter what you are, Skye. I just want you to be happy.” “Then your wish is granted.” “I’m pleased to hear that. You’re really happy?” “Hell yeah! Everything is going my way; then there’s Jimmy…” “I never had a boyfriend that good looking,” said Janelle, enviously. I grinned. I thought it best not to dispel her misunderstanding about Jimmy. The less she knew about the real situation, the better. I didn’t want to lie to my big sister, but the truth would not do. “He’s a lot of fun.” “I’m not surprised you picked him; he’s gorgeous.” “Oh yeah!” I said. I felt strange talking to my sister about Jimmy. It was a good strange. Never before had I been able to talk to anyone about my attraction to other guys. “I’m totally embarrassed about you walking in on us, but I feel like some kind of weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I always wondered what you’d think of me if you knew I was gay, and now I know.” “You should have known already, little brother, and as for being embarrassed, I’m the one who walked in on you.” “And you got quite an eyeful.” Janelle laughed. “That’s certainly true.” “I’m glad we can laugh about this,” I said. “When it happened, well…I figured my life was over.” “Now you know it’s not.”

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“Yeah. Josh is being a total dick about it, but if that’s how he feels, then he can go screw himself.” “Skye…” “Don’t worry, I’ll make nice for mom’s sake.” I wrapped my arm around Janelle, and we walked on in the falling snow. I wished she could stay home for good.

TAYLOR—DECEMBER 1980 Mark, Marshall, and I split up to cover more ground in our search for work. It was unlikely anyplace would hire all three of us anyway. Our situation was desperate. Our funds were drained to less than a dollar. Before setting out, Mark told me he was going out with Chase that night if none of us found anything. I couldn’t let that happen. I pounded the pavement all morning with no luck. It was the same old story. One old guy offered me twenty bucks to go into the back room with him for a few minutes, but I turned him down. His offer made me feel cheap and nasty and more determined than ever that neither Mark nor myself would ever have to sell ourselves on the street. I didn’t know how Chase could stand it, and he was out there every night. By the late afternoon I’d still found nothing. I was losing hope. I didn’t like it in the city. There were too many cars, too much noise, and too many people. I felt slightly claustrophobic hemmed in by all the buildings, but there was beauty in the city, too. I walked by the Murat, an architectural wonder that used to be an old Masonic Temple, but was now a theater. It was a mixture of Egyptian and Arabian elements and looked like some kind of Middle Eastern palace or something. I sat on a bench and just looked at it for a while, letting myself dream I was far, far away. Not far from the Murat I spotted a “Help Wanted” sign in the window of The Hanson Café. Hanson. That was Brandon’s last name. Maybe it would bring me luck. I’d been inside several businesses with “HELP WANTED” signs posted, but so far no one would hire me. Being sixteen was not an advantage. When I walked inside the café I halted for a moment. It was unlike any other café or diner I’d been in. I was so struck that for the moment I didn’t even notice the delicious aroma of the food, which was unusual for someone as hungry as I was. I was expecting a rundown restaurant, but what I saw was definitely - 308 -

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upscale—candles and short vases of roses on costly tables, finely crafted wooden chairs with comfortable upholstered cushions, and a hardwood floor polished to a dull shine. What I noticed most, however, were the customers. They were all men, and some of them were even holding hands! I swallowed and walked toward the back where a man in his mid-forties was staring at me. I tried to put myself at ease as I approached. “Hi, are you the owner? I came to ask about the job.” “How old are you son?” “Sixteen.” “Shouldn’t you be in school?” “Yes, I should, but uh…” “Runaway?” “Please, I really need a job.” “I can’t put you on the payroll, son. If you’re a runaway, I’ll have social services on my ass in a flash.” “Please, I’m desperate. I’ll wait tables, I’ll wash dishes, I’ll scrub the floor. Don’t put me on the payroll; just pay me something in cash. Please, I really need a job. You don’t…” I was beginning to tear up. If I didn’t rein myself in I’d be crying in no time at all. “Jackson, watch the counter,” said the owner. “You,” he said, pointing at me, “come in the back and we’ll talk.” I was very much afraid he was going to make me an offer much like the one I’d turned down not long before. I was beginning to think that maybe I should take it if he did. There didn’t seem to be any other way to make money in this screwed-up town. “Have a seat.” We sat down in chairs facing each other, barely two feet apart. “What’s your name?” “Taylor.” “I’m Hugh. Like I said, I can’t put you on the payroll, Taylor, but maybe we can work something out.” I swallowed. Here it comes, I thought. Next he’s going to put his hand on my leg. “You’re an extremely attractive boy, and I think you might be good for business. I need a waiter, and if you’re willing to work for just tips, then maybe we can accommodate each other.” I smiled. “I’m more than willing!”

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“I’m sure you’ve noticed what kind of café this is. We cater to gay men. If you have a problem with that, this just won’t work out.” “I have no problem with it at all, sir.” “My name is Hugh, not sir.” “I’m sorry, si…I mean Hugh.” “Now, before I agree to this, there are conditions…” I swallowed. I prayed one of them wasn’t having sex with Hugh. “I know boys like you…Well, I don’t allow soliciting of my customers. What you do on our own time is your business, but if I find out…” “You don’t have to worry about that, Hugh. I’m not like that. I want this job so I don’t have to do that.” “Good. I don’t want any trouble with the law, and I don’t want the wrong sort in here, either.” “I’m here to work and make money—as a waiter.” “Then I think this just might work out.” “Thank you so much, Hugh.” “When can you start?” “Now, but I will need to leave before dark today. There’s someone I have to see before dark. I can work any hours you want after today.” “I think maybe it would be better if you start in half an hour or so. When was the last time you had something to eat?” “I had a roll yesterday at lunch.” “You go out and get yourself a seat at one of the tables. Order anything you want. When you’re working, you can have your meals here free.” My eyes began to water and I actually began to cry. “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my eyes. “It’s okay, Taylor, now you go out there and have yourself a nice lunch; then we’ll get you started.” My sense of relief was immeasurable. I probably wouldn’t make much, but I had a job at last. I couldn’t wait to give Mark the news! I took a seat at an out-of-the-way table. I just sat there and drank in the ambiance of the place for a few moments. The hunter-green candle on the table gave off a woodsy scent, and the little vase that sat nearby had three beautiful red roses in it. I drank it all in. A waiter, the only one I’d seen in the café, approached my table with a menu. “Hey, I’m Evan. I hear we’ll be working together.” “Yeah, I’m Taylor,” I said, offering him my hand, which he accepted.

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“I’m very glad to meet you, Taylor, very glad. I’ve been run ragged since Les quit. I’ve give you a bit to look over the menu, then I’ll be back. What would you like to drink?” “A Coke would be great.” It had been so long since I’d had one I could barely remember the taste. Evan seemed like a pleasant guy. He was in his early twenties, average, but nice looking, with dark red hair and blue eyes. He was a bit shorter than I was, but not much. He returned soon for my order. “I think I’ll have the quarter-pound Hanson Burger, with fries.” “Coming right up.” I sipped my Coke. It was delicious. I looked around the café. The place was fairly busy when I came in, but it was beginning to clear out. It was well past lunchtime and nowhere near suppertime yet. I sat back in the comfortable chair and enjoyed the warmth and the heavenly aroma in the air. The café was nearly emptied out by the time Evan came back with my order. He took a seat across from me, while keeping an eye on the remaining tables of customers. “So, have you ever waited tables before?” he asked. “No.” “It’s not that hard if you don’t let yourself get flustered. It’s good to do things fast, but don’t try to go so fast you mess up an order. Most of the guys who come in here aren’t in a hurry. In fact, most of them will linger quite a while and have dessert, which helps increase tips.” “Cool,” I said, taking a bite of burger. Oh, my God, was it delicious! “If you want to make good tips make sure your customers don’t run out of drinks. Be as friendly as possible and don’t be afraid to flirt. You may have a guy hit on you now and then, and it’s best to remain friendly, even if you don’t like it. Hold on; I’ll be back.” Evan went to check on his tables. I focused my attention on the burger and fries. The quarter pound Hanson Burger had American, Swiss, and Mozzarella cheese, as well as lettuce, tomato, pickle, onion, and bacon. It would have been delicious even if I wasn’t starving. It was obvious I’d gained employment in a gourmet café, and I could eat free! It was a starving boy’s dream. “Okay,” said Evan returning to the table. “Do you mind if I give you some pointers on the way you dress?” “Um, no.” “You look fine, but you’ll get better tips if you dress sexy. You’re a little thin, but you’ve got nice muscles. You should wear tight shirts that show off your build. You can’t wear a tank top, but a muscle shirt is fine as long as it’s nice. You

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should buy your shirts a size or two too small. You’ll more than make back any money you spend on clothes. The guys in here appreciate a pretty face and a hot body. You’ve got both, so make it work for you.” “Thanks,” I said shyly. “Oh, I’m straight by the way, so don’t think I’m coming onto you. I’m just trying to help you out.” “Thanks,” I said. “I’m gay, but I have a boyfriend.” “I’m not surprised about the boyfriend part. You’re so hot I’d almost go for you myself.” Evan laughed. “I have to get back to work. You take your time with your lunch. We’re not exactly busy right now.” With that Evan was gone. He was quite likeable, and so was Hugh. I hadn’t met the cook yet, but I felt like I had stepped into Heaven. I was even warm! I turned down dessert because I was just too full. I hadn’t had a real meal in I don’t know how long, so the burger and fries stretched my stomach to its fullest extent. The absence of hunger was a wonderful feeling. Evan handed me a pad and a pen and began to train me. It was the ideal time, because the place was nearly empty. He told me some of the abbreviations for menu items like QH for quarter-pound Hanson Burger and HH for half-pound Hanson Burger. Some, like ff for French fries were pretty obvious. Evan started me right in on waiting tables, standing there to help me out and reminding me if I forgot something. I was a touch nervous, but Evan was a safety net. Before long I was flying solo. I wasn’t as fast as Evan, but he assured me that speed would come with practice. I found myself drawing a lot of attention as the new boy in town, or in this case in the café. It was a little like being famous, and I enjoyed the attention. I was as friendly as I could be, which required no special effort because it was my nature to be friendly. I flirted a little, too, but not much, because that didn’t come as easy. I got a three dollar tip from my very first table. I felt rich! Business picked up quickly as suppertime approached, and I earned even more in tips. One nice thing about being busy is that time passed quickly for me. Before I knew it, the sun began to sink in the sky. Before it had gone down too far I asked Hugh if I could leave. “From now on, I’ll stay as late as you need me,” I said. “Be here at nine a.m. tomorrow, Taylor.” “Yes, si…I mean Hugh.” He smiled. I walked out of The Hanson Café with $28 in my pocket, and I hadn’t even worked the whole supper rush. Starting the next day, Hugh said I’d be working

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breakfast through mid-afternoon and Evan would do mid-afternoon through supper. The best tips came at supper because it was the larger meal, but Evan had seniority and I wasn’t about to complain. I had a job and I had money in my pocket! I hurried home to the village, which is what Mark, Marshall, and I had come to call the little collection of boxes and tents behind the warehouse. The name had caught on and everyone called it that. When I arrived, Ike and Chandler were around, but I didn’t see a sign of anyone else. “Where’s Mark?” I asked, more excited than I had been in a long time. “He went off with Chase,” said Chandler. “What? Already?” “Yeah, they left just a few minutes ago. Chase is gonna show him the ropes.” “No!” I said and took off running. I knew the area Chase worked. He’d staked out his own little territory, and that’s where his regulars came to find him. I ran towards it in a panic. I’d finally found a job. At the last second I’d saved us from a horrible fate, and now it looked like I might be too late after all. I ran flat out as if I was racing down the soccer field, giving it my all to get to the ball before my opponent. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breath came hard and fast much sooner than it should’ve. I was out of shape. Too little food and exercise had taken their toll. My lungs cried out for me to stop, but I ignored them and ran on. I was desperate to catch Mark before it was too late. By the time the stretch of street that was Chase’s territory came into view I was in agony. I was gasping for breath, and my side screamed in pain. I pushed the pain aside, however, and ran on. I didn’t see Mark and Chase. What if I was too late? Finally, I spotted them, illuminated by a street light. Mark was sitting on the steps in front of an abandoned high school, and Chase had his head poked in the open window of a car. I sped on, fearful Chase would make a deal for Mark, and that Mark would climb in the car and be gone before I could stop him. Chase walked back to Mark. He was speaking to him and nodded back toward the car. I ran up, literally gasping for breath. “Taylor, what’s wrong?” asked Mark, clearly frightened. I held up a finger, then doubled over, trying to catch my breath. Chase was staring at me as if I was some kind of freak show. Finally, I managed to get some words out, one at a time. “You…don’t…have…to…I…got…a…job.” “You found a job?” Mark asked, excitedly. I nodded my head.

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“I guess I’m not interested after all,” said Mark to Chase. “You sure, man? It’s easy money.” “Nah, you go ahead.” Chase walked toward the car, looking none too happy. “Chase!” Mark called out. “Thanks!” Chase cracked a smile, then climbed in the passenger side and was gone. “That was too close,” I said, finally getting enough breath to speak. “Another minute and I would’ve been gone.” “You won’t ever have to do that now, Mark. I’ve got a job. It’s just tips, but I only worked a few hours today and I made $28! Come on, I’m taking you out to celebrate!”

ETHAN—DECEMBER 1980 I opened my locker. My eyes were involuntarily drawn to the bottom of it, as they always were. More often than not, there was no note there, but this time I wasn’t so lucky. I kneeled down, picked up the small piece of paper, checked to make sure no one was in the vicinity, and read it.

Meet me at my house right after school, faggot. I sighed. It was the very end of the school day, and I’d dared to hope that Zac wouldn’t demand my presence. I’d looked forward to a quiet evening of farm work, doing my homework, then a good night’s sleep—in other words a normal night, or rather what had once been normal. I would’ve never guessed I’d miss the repetitive routine of farm work, but now I yearned for it as if the not-so-distant past was a golden age. If I could just make it to graduation, then maybe I’d have a chance at a normal life. That day was more than two years away, but it was a glimmer of hope. Until then, I’d just try to survive. I’d stopped fighting against my situation in life. There was no escape for me. I hoped time would release me, and each day brought me a little closer to freedom from Zac. “Ethan, we need to talk,” said Brandon. I jumped and actually let out a small cry of fright. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts I hadn’t heard Brandon approach. I quickly crushed the note in my hand. “I, uh, I don’t have much time now. I have to get home to work.” “I’ll meet you there, then.” “Uh, no, you can’t. I mean, not right away. I have an appointment I have to keep first.” An appointment to be Zac’s bitch. - 315 -

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“This won’t take long,” said Brandon. “I have to be somewhere, too, but there’s something I’ve got to tell you.” “What?” I asked, a bit impatient. “Some of the guys have been talking about you behind your back.” “What are they saying?” “Some of them suspect you might be queer. There’s a rumor floating around that you blew some boy in the restroom.” “I didn’t do that!” “I’m not saying you did. I’m telling you what’s being said.” “So, you think I’m queer now?” “No! I don’t think that, and if I did, it wouldn’t matter. Did I turn on Mark and Taylor when I found out about them? If you told me you were gay right now, I’d be fine with it.” I considered for a moment telling him that’s just what I was, but the moment passed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just a little tense.” “I just wanted you to know what’s being said. You know how homophobic everyone is around here. Just watch your back.” “Okay, thanks Brandon, I appreciate this. I’m sorry if I was a bit rude. You scared the crap out of me when you walked up.” “No problem, Ethan. I’m just looking out for you. If anyone gives you any shit, let me know. I’m here if you need me.” “Thanks, Brandon.” Great, that’s just what I needed—rumors. I immediately suspected Zac. Had he found a new way to make my life miserable? I slammed my locker shut and walked out to the truck. I climbed in and drove to Zac’s house. I knew the route all too well. I arrived before him again and waited in the truck. A heavy snow was falling, and I lost myself in it for several minutes, watching the big, fluffy flakes gently drift down to join their fellows on the ground. It wasn’t a bad day, weather-wise. It was cold, of course; it was December in Verona after all, but there was no wind, and the temperature hovered just under freezing. It could easily have been ten or twenty degrees colder. Zac arrived within a few minutes. As I began to climb out of the truck, he told me to get back in. He climbed into the passenger side and took off his coat. “Start driving,” he said, “but take off your jacket first.” I did as I was told, as always, and it ripped a bit more of my dignity from me. I had very little left anyway. After what had been done to me and what I’d been forced to do, I had barely a shred of self-respect left. I followed Zac’s directions to

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the old road near the cemetery that led to nothing. I remember the day I’d taken Jon and Nathan down that road to see the caves. It was ancient history now, and Jon and Nathan were both gone. I had no idea what had become of Nathan, and Jon now lay in the very graveyard that was so near. Far too much sadness had crept into my life and the lives of others. “Are you spreading rumors about me?” I asked Zac, as soon as I stopped the truck. “Rumors?” “About me blowing some boy in the restroom at school?” “Damn, fag, you’d better be careful doing something like that. It could get you in major trouble.” “I didn’t do it, dammit, but someone is saying I did!” “And I’m supposed to be responsible for all the rumors that float through the halls of V.H.S.?” “No, I just mean…Tell me, did you start that rumor?” “No.” “Are you lying?” “If I was, I’d lie about lying, too, now wouldn’t I? Why would I bother spreading rumors about you, faggot? It’s in my best interest for you to keep your filthy little secret. If word gets out, I won’t have much control over you, now will I? Use your brain, gay boy. I’m the last person who would spread rumors about you being a homo.” “Then who’s doing it?” “Hell if I know, but enough of this. You aren’t here to ask questions; you’re here to blow me.” I didn’t know if I believed him or not, but what he said made sense. If word got out about me, Zac couldn’t control me anymore. He had a lot to lose by outing me and nothing at all to gain. I hated being controlled by him. I had little time to wallow in self pity; Zac unzipped his jeans and pulled my head toward his crotch. I didn’t resist. There was no point in it. If I resisted, all it would get me is a slap in the face or a black eye, and I’d still have to blow Zac. It was the fate of a slave. A few minutes later Zac finished, and I sat back in my seat. He grinned at me evilly, and I gazed at him wondering how one boy could use another as Zac had used me. How could he even sleep at night, knowing how he’d used and abused me and all but destroyed my life? Zac had made me into his bitch, I couldn’t deny it, but at least I knew in my heart I’d never treat another as he’d treated me. That was, perhaps, the only scrap of dignity I had left and I clung to it.

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“Fuck,” said Zac, looking out the window. I looked over to see Jeremy approach and wondered what he was doing in this deserted place and why Zac reacted with displeasure at the sight of his partner in crime. “Stay here, faggot.” I watched with interest as Zac got out of the truck and slammed the door. He met Jeremy some twenty feet from the truck. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Jeremy pushed hard on Zac’s chest. “Trouble in hell,” I muttered to myself and smiled. Some heated words were exchanged, and I must admit I enjoyed the show. I grinned with glee when Zac took a swing at Jeremy and missed. They struggled. Jeremy clocked Zac a good one in the face and took off. By the time Zac had recovered, Jeremy was out of sight. Zac stomped back to the truck. I quickly wiped the smile off my face. If Zac saw it, I’d surely get belted in the mouth. “What was that about?” I asked as Zac dropped in the seat. “It’s none of your business, faggot! Shut the fuck up!” Zac was steamed to say the least, and I thought it best to do as I was told. Zac needed little excuse to hurt me, and I was still sore from what he, Jeremy, and Anthony had done to me not all that long ago. A little trickle of blood was oozing from the corner of Zac’s mouth, and his shirt was torn. I wasn’t one bit sorry he’d been nailed in the face. If anyone deserved it, Zac did. I just wished I could have been the one to clock him. Like so many of my dreams, however, this one was unobtainable. We sat there in the truck—just sat. Zac fumed and looked at his watch now and then. I grew impatient. “If there’s nothing else you want to do, I do need to get to the farm and get my work done,” I said. “Shut up, faggot!” Zac belted me hard in the chest. He must’ve have been really pissed off at Jeremy. His reaction was entirely out of line with my innocent comment. I wondered what had happened between those two. Snow began to pile up on the hood of the truck, covering the dark green with fluffy white. Zac finally got out of the truck and ordered me to follow him. I reached for my jacket, but he refused to let me wear it. I shivered in the cold. My thin shirt did little to protect me from the December chill. I rubbed my bare arms, trying to warm them. We walked a few feet toward the graveyard into a small stand of trees. In the summer we would have been completely sheltered from sight by the trees, and even now in December we were fairly well hidden. I had no idea what Zac was up

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to. If he wanted to play his sick little games with me, he could have easily done so at his house or mine. It was too cold to be messing around outdoors. For a moment, I thought I heard voices in the distance, but I had no time to listen for them because Zac suddenly screamed “Help!” at the top of his lungs. I was so taken aback by his illogical outburst that I just gawked at him for a moment. “Get off me!” cried Zac. My mind was spinning. Zac had apparently lost his mind. He grabbed me and pulled me toward him, causing us both to fall to the ground, Zac underneath me. He held tightly onto me while he screamed “Get off me, faggot!”, “Help!”, and “Rape!” Comprehension dawned on me, but it was too late. I fought to free myself of his grasp, but he held onto me tightly. I heard footsteps running toward us. “Get the fuck off him!” screamed Jeremy and tackled me, knocking me to the side. Someone else slugged me hard in the jaw, and within seconds four or five guys were beating the shit out of me. I tried to fight back, but there were too many of them, and I wasn’t in shape. I was jerked to my feet and held in place. I finally had a chance to see who it was who had attacked me. Alex and Rob each held one of my arms. Brent Hotchkiss, a V.H.S. football player, stood in front of me, his hand pressed against my chest to prevent me from going after Zac. Steve stood off to the right, looking a bit stunned, but no one was more shocked than Brandon. He just stood there gaping at me without comprehension. I guess he wasn’t the most stunned of the lot: I was. It had all happened so fast it didn’t seem real, but I knew what had just transpired. Zac had set me up. The question was— why? My mind was filled with questions. What was Brandon doing here, with them? After Mark and Taylor disappeared, he’d hunted down Jeremy, Alex, and mostly recently Rob and beaten each of them senseless. He had no love for them, so why was he with them now? Steve dropped down beside Zac and examined his face. Brandon stared at me a moment more, then went to Zac, too. The pair of them helped him to his feet, and he acted as if he had trouble standing. I tried to move my arms, and Zac flinched as if I was going to strike him. “Keep him away from me!” “Here, hold him,” said Jeremy to Brent, and they switched positions. Jeremy stepped quickly to Zac and examined his face. “What did he do to you?”

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“He was waiting at my house when I got there,” said Zac, on the verge of tears. He sounded so distraught I almost believed his performance. “He forced me into his truck and made me come out here with him. He dragged me out of the truck, then he was all over me, groping me. I got away, but he chased me. I tried to fight him off, but he slugged me in the face. I don’t know, it kind of dazed me. The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, tearing at my clothes, groping and fondling me.” “You fucking liar!” I screamed. “You know that’s not what happened! I didn’t touch you! Jeremy slugged you in the face not a half hour ago!” Jeremy stepped toward me. “I slugged Zac in the face? If you’re going to try and lie your way out of this, at least come up with something a little more believable, Ethan.” My mouth dropped open. I looked at all the others in turn. “He set me up!” I said, nodding toward Zac. “He set this whole thing up!” “You’re either a really bad liar or you’re delusional,” said Jeremy. “I’m not sure which. Everyone knows you’re a druggie, Ethan. What did you do? Get high, lose control, and try to rape Zac? You’ve always wanted him, haven’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at him. Yeah, you got high and tried to force him, didn’t you?” “I’m not a druggie! I didn’t attack him!” Jeremy dug into my pocket and pulled out my bottle of pills. “What’s this then, Ethan?” “I didn’t lay a hand on him! You’ve guys have got to believe me! Brandon?” Brandon looked as if he didn’t know what to think. His eyes fell on the pills in Jeremy’s hand. The others were staring daggers at me. “You tried to rape me!” accused Zac. “Thank God you guys came along or he would’ve. He might’ve even killed me. He’s crazy!” “It’s real convenient they just happened to come along, isn’t it?” I said. “Did you arrange that too, Zac?” “Zac didn’t know anything about us coming here,” said Steve. “Just after lunch, Jeremy asked us if we’d come and scout out a party spot with him. Most of the cemetery is too open with all the leaves gone, so we were trying to find a secluded space. We were going to ask Zac to come along, but no one could find him.” “Because he made sure you couldn’t,” I said. “Jeremy and Zac are in this together.” “So let me get this straight,” said Steve, “Jeremy slugged Zac in the mouth, met us at the front gate, then brought us here so we would discover you ‘raping’ Zac. You’ve got quite an imagination there, Ethan.”

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“That’s just what happened!” “Ethan…” said Brandon. “What?” “I…I don’t know what to think, but even I’m having a hard time swallowing that story.” “And what about Zac’s shirt?” asked Rob. “It’s torn half off him.” “Jeremy did that—before!” “I think we’ve heard just about enough from you, faggot,” said Alex. “We heard screams and came running and found you on top of Zac. If he set all this up, how did you get on top of him?” “He pulled me on top of him!” Rob actually laughed out loud. “Yeah, Jeremy belted him in the mouth and tore his shirt, and Zac made you attack him. You are un-fucking-believable, fag.” “Don’t call me a fag!” I roared. “It’s what you are, faggot!” Jeremy yelled back. “If you weren’t a fag, you wouldn’t have tried to rape Zac.” I just stood there dumbfounded. Jeremy glared at me. Zac looked for all the world as if he was scared to death of me. “I should have known,” said Zac. “I should have known this would happen eventually. I’m so stupid. Ethan’s been coming onto me for a long time. He groped my ass in the showers a few times. He said he was only kidding around, but I knew he was serious.” “Bullshit!” I yelled. “Shut up, faggot,” said Jeremy and punched me in the gut. “Why didn’t you say something if he was bothering you?” asked Steve. “I was afraid to. He said he’d make up stories about me being a fag. You know how everyone feels about faggots. I was afraid.” “You fucking piece of shit,” said Alex to me. “Is Zac the only one you’ve been pulling this shit with, or are there others?” “How about that Nathan kid?” asked Jeremy. “He just up and disappeared. Maybe he ran to get away from the child molester here.” “Or maybe Ethan raped and murdered him,” said Zac. “I never touched Nathan!” “Just like you didn’t touch Zac, huh?” asked Rob. “You are one sick fucker. I would never have guessed.” “I’m telling you guys I didn’t do anything. Brandon, come on, you know I wouldn’t do anything like this!”

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“I don’t know what to think,” said Brandon. “You haven’t exactly been yourself the last few weeks.” “You know what’s been happening! You know about Mark, Taylor, and Jon!” “Yeah, I bet you were real close with those murdering faggots, weren’t you?” spat Jeremy. “For all we know you helped kill Devon and Jon.” “You know that’s not true! You were there! You know what really happened! Mark and Taylor aren’t murderers, and I wasn’t there at all!” “Yeah, well, you weren’t there, but maybe you helped set Devon and Jon up,” said Jeremy. “You might as well have killed them.” “You fucking liar!” I screamed struggling to escape. All it got me was a punch in the face from Jeremy. “What should we do with him?” asked Steve, nodding toward me. “Don’t let him go,” pleaded Zac. The sadistic fucker should have been in the drama department. He was putting on an excellent performance. I didn’t know he had it in him. “Oh God,” said Zac. “He almost…He was going to…” He actually started crying. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Tears flowed from his eyes, and he sobbed as if he’d been the victim all along. He even managed to look embarrassed by his tears, as if afraid the others would think less of him for crying. “It’s okay, Zac,” said Brandon, comforting him. “It’s over now. You’re safe.” My heart fell. Even Brandon believed him. I was screwed. “How could you do this?” asked Steve. “You know I stood up for Mark and Taylor when everyone found out they were gay, but then they turned out to be nothing more than heartless killers, and now you…” I wanted to shout I knew that wasn’t true, but I feared I might somehow give something away that would hurt Mark or Taylor. Brandon knew it wasn’t true, as well. He was the one who told me, after all. I couldn’t endanger him, either. He’d been in contact with them since the incident. Brandon might now believe me guilty of a horrible crime, but I still had to protect him and my other friends. “Brandon,” I said, “please…You’re going to take their word over mine?” Brandon gave Alex, Jeremy, and Rob a momentary look of disgust, then turned his gaze on me. “I know what they’re like,” said Brandon, almost snarling at Alex, Jeremy, and Rob, “but that has nothing to do with what you just did to Zac.” “I didn’t do anything! This is crazy!” “You’re the one who’s crazy,” said Steve. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Ethan. You seriously need some help. You’ve got to get off the drugs, man. Look what they’ve turned you into.”

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I was speechless for a moment. How had Zac managed this? My friends were standing there with my enemies, pointing the finger of blame at me. “You’re not getting away with this,” said Alex. “Somebody has got to teach you a lesson.” “I say we give him a lesson right now,” said Jeremy, punching his fist into his palm. “Yeah, you like hitting me, don’t you Jeremy? Just like you liked…” I didn’t get the chance to finish. He slugged me so hard in the face my head snapped back. Alex and Rob released me so they could pummel me, too. Zac pretended he was too afraid to come near, and Brandon and Steve stood back, but they did nothing to help me. They really thought that I’d tried to rape Zac. Jeremy, Alex, and Rob spent the next couple of minutes beating the crap out of me. It seemed longer, but I knew from experience that such things seemed to last much longer than they really did. When they’d finished, I lay on the ground moaning. No one bothered to hold me anymore. “Come on,” said Steve. “Let’s get you home, Zac.” Steve and Brandon led Zac off as he continued to play the victim. The others stood over me as if contemplating working me over some more. “Let’s just leave him,” said Jeremy. “If he’s smart, he’ll blow his brains out as soon as he gets a chance. If not, there will be plenty of time to pay him back for what he did to Zac.” They each gave me a hard kick in the ribs, then left me lying there, bleeding and moaning. At that moment, suicide didn’t seem such a bad way to go. I slipped out of consciousness for a while. When I awakened, I was chilled to the bone and covered with a light dusting of snow. I sat up. I was completely alone and numb with cold. I painfully got to my feet and made my way to the truck. I started up the engine, pulled on my jacket, and sat there shivering. As soon as the heater began to put out a little warmth, I turned it on full blast. I just sat there. I had no idea where to go or what to do next. I was completely stunned by what Zac had pulled. I’d never seen it coming, and it made no sense at all. He had a good thing going, and he’d just thrown it away when he could have kept it going indefinitely. I was his sex slave, and he had a powerful sex drive. He rented me out on a regular basis and made a shit load of money off me. I couldn’t comprehend how he’d just throw all that away. I was free of him now. He’d outed me, so he had nothing to hold over my head anymore. I didn’t feel much relieved, however. He’d decided he was done with me and had laid waste to my life. I’d had nightmares about Zac denouncing

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me as a fag in a crowded hallway at school, but never once did I consider that he might set me up like this. Looking back, there were signs, but they were obvious only in hindsight. He had accused me of groping him during our football game. At the time, I just thought he was being a jerk and causing me a bit of trouble without going too far. Now that I looked back on it, I realized it was part of a plan. Now all those guys who’d been there would remember he’d accused me of groping him. Zac had also said that I’d tried to molest him on a few occasions. His unfriendly attitude of late fit only too well. If I had tried to grope him in the showers, he might well have turned against me. The halting of his buddy-buddy routine made sense now. I didn’t feel foolish for not seeing this coming. It didn’t make sense that Zac would out me when he had so much to gain from keeping me under his thumb. Only now did the pieces fit together. He’d been so clever, keeping me in the dark until it was too late. Even his “fight” with Jeremy early in the evening had been a part of it. It was nothing more than a performance for me. Jeremy slugged Zac and tore his shirt so that Zac could later claim I did it. Zac had fucked me up good. Even Brandon believed in my guilt. Hell, I would have, too, if I was he. I’d been set up good and proper, and everyone would believe I’d tried to rape Zac. I was finished. There was no way out of this one. I started up the truck and headed for home. I had no choice but to make a run for it. I needed clothes, money, and food. I caught a glance of myself in the rearview mirror, and I looked like hell. It didn’t feel like anything was broken. At least I could be thankful for that. Jack was out working the farm when I got home. I quickly made my way to my room and packed my bags, stuffing in as much winter clothing, boxers, and socks as I could manage. I took all my cash and grabbed my checkbook. I’d clean out my account at the first opportunity. I grabbed books, anything that I might be able to sell, blankets, pillows, and more. I loaded them all into the back of the truck. I loaded up boxes of food from the kitchen and put in the truck bed, too. When I’d finished, I covered the back of the truck with a tarp. Now all that remained to be done was to write Jack a quick note. I didn’t know what to say, but I did my best.

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Dear Uncle Jack, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’m sure you’ll find out what I’m supposed to have done real soon. I didn’t do it, I swear that, but I have been keeping a secret from you. I’m gay. I’m sure you know how people feel about gays around here, so you can understand why I’ve got to leave. I got beat up fairly bad just a while ago and I know I’ll get it much worse if I stay. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do, but I’m taking all my money, warm clothes, and everything else I think I’ll need. I ‘m going to have to borrow the truck for a while, but I promise I’ll find a way to get it back to you or at least let you know where you can come and get it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you or not, but I just want you to know I’m leaving because I must, not because I want to. You’ve always been good to me, and I love you. I wish I could stay, but everyone will hate me now. Even my friends will turn against me. My life here is over. I know you wouldn’t want me to kill myself and that’s probably what I’d end up doing if I stayed. I’m going away, and I think it’s best for all. I love you, Ethan

I left the note on the kitchen table where I knew Jack would find it. I hated leaving without saying goodbye, but I had no choice. I walked out to the truck, started her up, and headed away from the farm for the very last time. Tears streamed from my eyes. I knew in my heart I’d never return and never lead the life I’d always thought I’d live. I drove toward town. It was not the direction I’d planned to take, but a thought had entered my mind—revenge. I wasn’t going to leave town before I paid Zac back—at least partly. There was no way I could give him what he deserved. As much as I despised him, I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do to him what he’d done to me. I’d been his bitch and his slave, but I’d never stoop to treating another human being in the degrading, humiliating way he’d treated me. No, I couldn’t pay him back in full, but there was no way I was going to let him get away with destroying my life without a little payback at least. I needed time to recuperate and plan so I headed for the one place I never thought I’d go alone— Graymoor Mansion.

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Graymoor had been a refuge for Mark and Taylor, and now it would be for me. I’d long feared the phantoms that haunted those halls, but I’d been so tormented by the living that the dead no longer held any terror for me. What could ghosts do to me that Zac, Jeremy, and Anthony had not? It was dark out already. I pulled the truck right through the gates of Graymoor and hid it between the main house and a large outbuilding. It would be out of sight unless someone came very near, which was extremely unlikely. I gathered a sleeping bag, a pillow, some clothes, and food, and entered through the kitchen door. I snapped on the flashlight I’d brought with me, illuminating the murky interior. I decided to set up camp right in the kitchen. Taylor and Mark had cleaned it up when they’d been there, and it was still in fairly good shape. It was deathly cold inside, like a tomb. An eerie silence permeated the air, a silence that didn’t seem to want to be broken. The sounds of my footfalls were unnaturally loud. I lit a candle sitting on the table, likely placed there by Taylor or Mark, pulled out the cold chicken and Coke I’d taken from Jack’s refrigerator and sat down at the table to eat. The old house creaked, and though the sound was distant, it shattered the silence like a pair of cymbals banged together. I was almost certain I heard moans as well, but I forced myself to concentrate on my supper and my plans for revenge. Zac had taken away my dignity and broken my self-esteem. He’d subjected me to unthinkable humiliation and great physical pain. I would call what I’d been put through unbearable, but I had survived, if only just. I’d failed to stand up to him, and the opportunity was gone. He’d beaten me down and crushed my spirit, and he knew it. I could just imagine his smug face tomorrow as he accepted undeserved sympathy from our classmates and trashed what was left of my reputation. Zac had not only outed me, he’d destroyed me. He’d managed to make me look guilty of the very crimes he perpetrated upon me. It was the final indignity and could not go unanswered. I knew what I had to do. I knew also I’d probably be better off if I just ran away with my tail between my legs, but I had to show Zac that he hadn’t crushed me quite so thoroughly as he believed. I was in pain from my latest beating and from the one before, too. I popped a couple of my pills and lay down in my sleeping bag. The kitchen was freezing— so cold I could see my breath. I spread my blankets over me and snuggled into the oasis of warmth. During the night, I had the distinct impression I was not alone. I felt as if spirits or ghosts or whatever were milling around me, perhaps wondering what I was

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doing sleeping on their floor. Whether this was reality or a dream I do not know, for I slept the sleep of the dead. I awakened the next morning in time for school, even though I had no alarm clock. I prepared myself as best I could and set out one last time for V.H.S. I parked the truck where I could make a fast getaway. I doubted Zac would call the cops on me, but who knew with him? I got out and walked toward the entrance. I drew a few looks from classmates, no doubt because of my battered face. I looked worse than I ever had before. I knew the lies Zac was spreading would soon be all over the school, but they had not yet had the chance to get out. I hunted Zac down in the halls. He was standing near his locker, laughing with a guy I didn’t recognize. He seemed damned cheerful for someone who had supposedly come within seconds of being raped the evening before. Perhaps his acting abilities were slipping. Zac’s face blanched when he caught sight of me, but it was too late to run. “Get away from me, faggot!” “You didn’t think I’d come back, did you? You didn’t think I’d dare show my face after the way you set me up.” Zac had a look of true fear in his eyes. “You think you’ve won, and maybe you have, but I’ll always be a better man than you, and you know why? Because I’d never do to anyone what you did to me. Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect—everyone. You took what you knew and used it against me. You could have been my friend. You could have helped me when I needed it, but instead you preyed upon me. You destroyed my life. I hope you can live with yourself for what you’ve done, and may God have mercy on your soul.” The urge to beat Zac senseless, the urge I’d felt so often, had disappeared as I spoke to him. I’d come with the intention of beating the crap out of him, but I realized as I stood there with him cowering before me that I’d benefit from that not at all. Sure, I would have experienced a few moments of pleasure exacting my revenge, but in the end having my say was far more satisfying. I’d intended to show Zac I still had some dignity left by beating his head in, but my words were more powerful than my fists. Zac was shaken. He hadn’t expected this from me. I held a mirror to his face and showed him his own ugliness. I could tell he did not like what he was seeing. Just before departing, I delivered one final blow. “Zac, I forgive you for what you’ve done to me.” I turned on my heel and walked away, having not even touched him. I walked down the hallway of my old school while my classmates stared. Already the rumors were spreading fast. I was called “faggot” and far worse

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names as I walked out the doors, but those names I’d so feared had little power to hurt me anymore. I quickly made my way to the truck and drove away, wondering where life would take me.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I very nearly kissed Marty in the hallway at school. I guess all my thoughts of Nick had made me forget I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I wondered briefly if The Wizard of Oz existed in this reality. So much was uncertain! I pushed the thought from my mind and concentrated instead on Marty. He grinned at me, and I smiled back. Zoë joined us and I kissed her, putting on a show for friends and classmates. I took one of her hands and Marty took the other. Together we walked down the hallway. “You have two boyfriends now?” asked Jarret Dilger, smirking. “Yeah, and did you notice neither of them is you?” said Zoë, throwing him a fake surprised look. “Bitch,” muttered Jarret. Marty and I both stuck our middle fingers in the air in unison as we walked away, causing Zoë to laugh and a few others as well. It was not a good day for Jarret. I was actually starting to fit into my new world. Every day I caught onto more of the minute differences between this reality and my old one. I was becoming so accustomed to my world that I realized I’d need some time to adjust if I suddenly found myself back in the old one. Of course, if whatever Marshall had done was suddenly undone, I probably would find myself right back where I’d been, with no knowledge whatsoever of having been here. That was a disturbing thought. I didn’t know if I could stand losing what I had with Marty and having no memory of it. Then again, if I had no memory of events here, how could I feel bad about the situation? It was too complicated to think about, so I stopped. I needed to concentrate on life as it was, here and now. If reality suddenly shifted again, I’d probably never even realize it. For all I know, reality shifted constantly. My prob-

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lems had been created because I was unlucky enough to be aware of the shift. No one else was bothered by it, because they were blissfully ignorant of the change. I missed my absent friends and Nick most of all, but I’d long ago learned to enjoy what I did have rather than fret over what I didn’t. Sure, it would’ve been awesome to look like Jordan Potter, but I didn’t look so bad. Having Skye’s build would have been kick-ass, but I sure didn’t want to do all that working out. Money would’ve been nice, too, but it’s not like I was starving. I had things pretty good overall, and I had Marty so I wasn’t going to complain. Marty and I rushed to my house right after school. It was absolute torture to keep our hands to ourselves all day long. The minute we stepped into my room and closed the door, we were all over each other. I was starving for Marty’s kisses and his smooth, soft skin. We pulled each other’s shirts off as we kissed. Some of our kisses were delicate, but most were passionate and deep. We couldn’t get enough of each other. It didn’t take us long to strip each other completely naked. When we’d shed the last stitch of our clothing, we held each other close and made out some more. The feel of Marty’s hard body against my own was pure bliss. My breath came hard and fast from excitement, and I was pleased that Marty’s did the same. To be found so attractive by him was a heady experience. Marty rubbed himself against me, and I could tell he was in desperate need. Remembering it’s better to give than receive, I lowered myself to my knees and proceeded to make Marty moan with passion. It took only a fraction of a second for my life to plunge into chaos, to fall from the heights to the depths. My bedroom door flew open, and Seth walked in, or rather came to a screeching halt as his eyes fell on the scene before him. “What the fuck?” he yelled. I’m sure Marty and I turned absolutely white. “What the FUCK?” yelled Seth louder, turned, and slammed the door behind him. Marty and I looked at each other in fear. “What if he tells?” asked Marty. “Then, we’re dead meat.” I scurried to dress, all thoughts of passion gone. This was a matter of life and death. In moments I had my clothes on and was racing out the door. Marty was close behind me. I was beyond relieved when I found Seth in the living room on the couch, his arms folded, and his eyes boring a hole in the carpet. “You’d better let me handle this,” I said to Marty. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded and left me alone with my little brother.

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“Let me explain, Seth.” “Explain!” he roared. “Explain that you’re a fucking fag and a liar? I saw what you were doing. There’s no explaining that!” “Look, Seth, I’m gay, okay? I would have told you, but I was afraid…well, that you’d react like you’re reacting.” “Well, how am I supposed to act when I find out my brother is a faggot?” “Don’t use that word.” “Why not? It’s what you are! You’re a faggot, a fag, a pillow biter, a cocksucker! My big brother is a cocksucking faggot!” I thanked God my parents weren’t home. “There are nicer ways to say it.” “Which doesn’t change what you are!” “That’s true, but do you call straight boys pussy lickers or cunt fuckers? No, because it’s vulgar.” “Don’t try to change the subject!” “Okay, okay.” “I want to know one thing right now!” demanded Seth. “What the fuck is up with you and Zoë? I thought she was your girl. She said she was! She told me she thought I was cute, but that I was too young for her and she was dating you. How the fuck could you be dating her when you’re a fag? Have you been lying to her and cheating on her?” “No, I haven’t. She knows.” “So she lied to me?” “To protect me. Listen, Seth, Zoë likes you, but you are a little young for her. She does think you’re cute. That’s no lie. She even told me that in a couple years she may be very interested in you.” “I’m supposed to believe what you say? You’re nothing but a lying faggot!” “Okay, I lied to you about dating Zoë. I’ve lied to you about what I am, but don’t you see I had to? Look at how upset you are. Do you know what it’s like in this town for guys like me?” “No, but we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?” “What do you mean by that, Seth?” I feared I knew. Seth grinned evilly. “You’re not getting away with what you’ve done to me. I’m gonna make you pay.” “I haven’t done anything to you!” “You took away my girl! Without you playing your sick little games, she would have been mine!” “Aren’t you listening, Seth? She’s too old for you, you’re fourteen!”

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“Even if I trusted your word, which I don’t, I could have convinced her to go out with me. I could’ve! We’d be dating now if it wasn’t for you!” Seth started to make for the door. “What are you going to do?” I asked him. “I’m gonna go out and tell everyone what a great big faggot my older brother is! I’m going to tell them what I saw with my own eyes!” “Seth, please no! “Why shouldn’t I?” “Because you’ll destroy us all. If you’re mad at me, take it out on me, but not like this. If you walk out that door and tell what you know, you’ll destroy not only me, but Marty and Zoë, too! You love Zoë, right? Why would you want to hurt her? Think of Mom and Dad, too. How are they going to deal with everyone knowing about me?” “You should have thought about all that before you decided to become a faggot.” “I didn’t decide! I had no choice!” “Bullshit!” “Please, Seth, you know what will happen to me if you tell. You know what they did to Oliver! The same thing will likely happen to Marty and me. You can’t hate us that much!” “That’s where you’re wrong,” said Seth with menace in his voice. “Please,” I begged, “at the very least, don’t mention Marty. Keep him out of this. I love him. I don’t want to see him hurt.” “That’s fucking sick,” said Seth as he turned for the door. I tackled him. I could not let him leave. My little brother was exceedingly strong for his age, however, stronger than I was. He slugged me in the face and was out the door before I could stop him. I just kneeled there crying, knowing my life had just come to an end. Mom and Dad came home just a few minutes later and found me crying and shaking in the living room. “Sean, what’s wrong?” asked my mother, rushing to me. “Where’s Seth?” There was a touch of panic in her voice. “Seth’s fine,” I managed to get out between sobs. “What’s wrong?” asked my dad. I looked up at the blond man who I barely knew. I didn’t want to answer, but what was the point of holding anything back? “Seth found out I’m gay, and he’s gone out to tell all his friends,” I announced.

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“Gay?” asked my father as if the very word left a bad taste in his mouth. “Honey,” said my mom. “That’s just silly. You aren’t gay. You have a girlfriend.” “Ask Seth if you want the details, because I’m not talking about them, but trust me, I’m gay. Zoë and I are just friends.” “No son of mine is going to be gay! I won’t allow it!” My mouth dropped open. “I don’t have a choice! You act like I’ve just decided to join the football team and you aren’t going to let me. This is nothing like that!” “I’d be thrilled if you joined the football team. Maybe you should. It might get some of this nonsense out of your head!” “Football is played in the fall, and football isn’t going to change anything!” My father spent the next several minutes telling my mother and me how I could not be gay—how he wasn’t going to let it happen. When he stomped out of the room to get himself a cup of coffee and calm down, Mom turned to me and pushed the hair out of my eyes. “Honey, I’m sure this will all work out. You’re just a bit confused. Boys your age get that way sometimes. All those hormones are running through your system, and, God knows, girls aren’t easy to understand. Sometimes things get a bit out of hand; things happen, but they don’t mean anything. Did something happen with your little friend, Marty?” She was acting as if Marty and I were both five. “Yes something happened, but I’m not confused. I’ve known the truth for a long time.” “I’m sure you think you know. I thought I knew everything when I was your age, but…” “Mom, I know, okay?” I said, my temper getting the best of me. “You watch your tone of voice when you’re talking to your mother,” said my father, once again entering the room. I sighed, exasperated. Seth chose just that minute to return, and one look at him was enough to tell me he’d sealed my fate. Seth took in the scene before him at a glance. “I’m sleeping on the couch from now on,” he announced. “What?” asked my mother. “I’m not sleeping in the same room as him!” he said loudly, pointing at me as if I was a leper. “Your brother is just confused,” announced father. “He’s a cocksucker,” said Seth.

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“I will not tolerate that kind of language in my house!” yelled my father. “I’m sorry,” said Seth, trying and failing to appear contrite, “but that’s what he is. I saw it with my own eyes. I walked into the bedroom, and Sean was sucking Marty’s dick!” I wanted to burrow into the couch cushions and hide myself there forever. I didn’t even like it when sex was mentioned around my parents, much less this. My father looked at me in shock and actually slapped my face. “Karl!” yelled my mother, pushing herself between us. “He has disgraced the family.” “Karl, he’s our son!” “No son of mine is a queer. If that’s the choice he’s made, then he’s no son of mine.” “Get out,” said my mother to my father. “Get out of the room, right now. We’ll talk about this later when you’ve had a chance to calm down.” My father grudgingly obeyed, but I wondered if his obedience didn’t have more to do with not wanting to be in the same room with me than it did with placating my mother. “Seth, go to your room.” “Mom, I’m not…” “Go, now,” she said in a tone of voice that told Seth he’d better do it or else. As soon as he was gone, Mom turned to me. “We’ll sort this out, Sean. I can’t believe this has happened, I really can’t; I can’t believe you’d do something like that. Is your brother lying?” I shook my head. My mother looked stricken. “Things like this happen,” she said, more to herself than me. “Boys will be boys.” She turned to me. “We’ll get this sorted out. Until then, you are to stay away from Marty.” She held up her hand, forestalling my protest. “I know you’re friends, but things have gotten out of hand, and it will not do for the two of you to be seen together. This is going to be hard, Sean, very hard, but we’ll take care of the situation. Oh, I do wish your brother hadn’t told anyone. Tomorrow, you stick close to your girlfriend, you make sure to be seen with her and act as if what your brother said was just a joke. This will blow over in time, and if you keep dating Zoë, people will forget.” “Mom…” “We’re not going to talk about this anymore, Sean. We’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen. Yes, that’s best, I think.” I watched in horror as my mother lost herself in her own little fantasy world. She stood right there and convinced herself I was not gay, that I’d just taken

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experimentation a bit too far. I knew there was no use in trying to talk to her about it. Shaking my head, I turned and walked toward my room. I missed my parents, my real parents, my accepting parents from that other reality that now seemed almost a dream. I’d known all along I was lucky to have such a mom and dad, but the reaction of my parents in this reality spelled it out for me in no uncertain terms. Seth was lying across his bed, with his back against the wall as I walked into our room. He had a smirk on his face that I wanted to slap right off him. “Don’t look at me, fag,” he said in greeting. The evil little shit I’d laid eyes on when I walked into my room for the very first time was back. I guess I’d been right about him all along, although he was way worse than I’d imagined. “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” I said. “You can see how you upset Mom and Dad.” “You upset them by being a cocksucking faggot.” “If you’d kept your mouth shut, they wouldn’t know I’m gay. They wouldn’t have to deal with it.” “Don’t try to blame this on me, faggot.” “It’s your fault, so I’ll damned well blame you if I want!” “Fuck, I can’t believe I have to sleep in the same room with a queer. You’d better not come over and touch me or something tonight!” “Have I ever, Seth? Have I ever once touched you? Huh?” Seth didn’t say anything. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, so why don’t you just shut up so I can pretend you’re not here. Oh, and thanks for ruining my life, by the way.” “You’re welcome,” said Seth, almost cheerfully. I considered marching over and punching him in the nose, but what would it solve? The damage had already been done, and I didn’t need the drama of Seth running to Mom telling her I’d hit him. I lay in bed that night trying to will myself home. I knew there would be hell to pay the next day if I was still here. My nightmares shifted from the death of loved ones to angry mobs chasing me down with flaming torches while my little brother laughed. I awakened more than once during the night covered with sweat. When my alarm went off the next morning I thought I was still dreaming. It was so dark out it appeared to be night still. I checked the time and there was no mistake. Thick dark clouds had moved in some time during the night, and they blocked out the rising sun. I glanced about the room. Seth was still snoozing

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away in his bed across from mine. My wish had not been granted; I was still stuck in this horrible place. I looked out the window as a gray rain fell. What a perfect beginning to what’s probably going to be the worst day of my life, I thought. I pulled myself away from the dismal scene and prepared myself for school. I dreaded what was to come. Rumors flew on wings, and I was sure everyone would know about me by the time I reached school. I was in for one hell of a day. Breakfast was dismal—not the food, but the atmosphere. My father was conspicuous by his absence, and my mother tried unsuccessfully to act as if all was well. My brother came in when I’d nearly finished and grinned evilly at me. I didn’t think he was truly my brother, even in this reality. He was the spawn of Satan. I walked to school alone in the cold, steady downpour. I was miserable, and my morning stroll was likely to be the highlight of my day. The first person I set sight on when I walked in the front doors was Ken Clark. He scurried away like a frightened rabbit. His reaction to my presence told me all I needed to know— word was out. “Out of my way, faggot,” said Jimmy Kerstadd as he roughly pushed me to the side. I noted he’d gone out of his way to cross my path. Everyone was gawking at me—everyone. I wanted to crawl inside my wet jacket and hide myself, but I could not escape their penetrating glare. Someone stuck their foot out and I went down hard, my heavy backpack slamming into me as I hit the floor. All those around laughed at my expense. “Aww, the little faggot fell down. I think he’s gonna cry,” said some boy I didn’t even know. I crawled to my hands and knees and pulled myself up. I did feel like crying, but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. “Hey, Sean! Wanna suck my dick after school? I hear you’re real good at it!” called out Kyle as I was walking away. I tried to ignore him. “Come on, Sean, you’re not gonna pass up cock are you? Everyone knows you love it!” More laughter echoed off the lockers as I made my way quickly down the hallway. Zoë was waiting for me by my own locker, looking stressed and concerned. “I guess you heard,” I said, as I fumbled with my combination. “Everyone has,” said Zoë. “What can I do to help?” I looked up at her and tears welled up in my eyes. I grabbed her and hugged her tight. “You’re the only friend I have left,” I whispered to her. “What about me?” I released Zoë and looked around. There stood Marty. “You shouldn’t talk to me. People will…”

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“It’s too late,” said Marty. “Word is out about us both. Like it or not, we’re in this together.” “Oh sick, they’re gonna make out!” said Dan Paulik to one of his friends as they passed. “Pillow-biters disgust me. Can you even fucking imagine?” I looked at Marty. “We’re going to be real lucky if we make it through the day without getting our asses kicked. I’m so sorry about this.” “It’s not your fault, Sean. I heard your little brother was going around telling everyone about us.” “Ewww, sick; Sean does his little brother!” called out Jarret Dilger who was standing near. “Do you mind?” asked Marty. “We’re trying to have a private conversation.” “Yeah, about who’s gonna take it up the ass tonight!” “Shut up!” said Marty, losing his cool. “What did you say to me, faggot? What did you fucking say to me? Did I just hear you tell me to shut up? Did I? You don’t tell me to do fucking anything, you little ass licker.” Zoë pushed her way between them. “Leave him alone.” “Well, well. What do we have here? You can’t be Sean’s girlfriend. Nice act you two have been putting on by the way; no one guessed Sean was a queer. So, what are you, his fag hag or are you some kind of Lesbo?” “If every girl who turned you down was a lesbian, the school would be filled with them.” Zoë’s comeback got a few laughs from those nearby, which did nothing to improve Jarret’s mood. He tried to step around her to get to Marty, but she moved with him until he finally gave up. “I’ll deal with you later, faggot, when there are no girls around to protect your queer ass.” “You want his ass? Now who’s the queer?” asked Zoë. Jarret turned red and left in a hurry. While I enjoyed seeing Zoë take him down, I worried that Marty and I would pay for it later. I guess it didn’t matter. We’d likely get the crap beaten out of us no matter what. Zoë and I walked Marty to his class, then made our way to our own. Marty and I were called fags and plenty of other names, but Zoë was snapping off dirty looks left and right and actually seemed to make some of our tormentors back off. I noted that most of the name-calling came from boys. Some of the girls laughed at me, as if I’d become some kind of joke, but most gave me no trouble. Some looked on with sympathy, and a few even gave me an understanding smile or reassuring pat on the shoulder.

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The boys acted as if I’d somehow betrayed them. I suspected many of them were calling me a fag just to prove to others that they themselves were heterosexual. It was a type of defense mechanism. I’d been marked as queer, and they had to abuse me to show they weren’t the same. I guess the reason why didn’t matter. Understanding would not make the abuse easier to take. “Thank you,” I said quietly to Zoë as we entered our first-period classroom. She knew exactly what I meant. Things would have been far harder without her. During class I was passed notes with such cheerful messages as “Drop dead, faggot” and “You’ll roast in hell.” I also received an x-rated stick figure drawing of one figure bent over in front of another. The stick figures were labeled “Sean” and “Marty.” Zoë walked me to my next class, but I was on my own after second period. I had a powerful need to whiz, but feared entering the boy’s restroom. It was either that or go in my pants, so I darted in and locked myself in a stall. When I came back out Jarret and Kyle were waiting on me. I walked past them to the sinks, trying to act as if all was cool and wondering if I could make it out the door if I ran for it. “This is the boys’ restroom,” said Kyle. “The girls’ restroom is next door.” “He knows that,” said Brent. “He’s in here looking for dick. You want to suck some dick, Sean?” “Just leave me alone,” I said, drying off my hands and making for door. Kyle and Jarret stepped in front of me, blocking my exit. “We don’t want no faggots in here gawking at us when we’re trying to take a piss,” said Jarret. “I’m not looking at anyone,” I said. “You would if you got the chance.” “We’re going to be late for class,” I said. Just then Jarret’s fist darted out and caught me in the gut. I doubled over. When I looked back up, Kyle punched me in the face. I kicked out hard and caught Jarret in the shin. “Fucking faggot!” he yelled as he hopped up and down on his other leg. Kyle slugged me in the stomach and twice more in the face, and I went down. I wasn’t much of a fighter. Jarret gave me a swift kick in the side, and they left me. I painfully pulled myself up from the floor and hobbled out into the hallway. So this was what I had to look forward to each day. How was I going to survive high school?

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By lunchtime I had bruises on my face. I hadn’t seen them myself because I didn’t dare go back in the restroom, but enough guys commented on them I knew they were there. I had bruises on my arms too where guys punched me as they passed. It was as if it was okay to just slug me for no reason other than that I was gay. Well, I guess that was their reason. I met up with Marty in the cafeteria, and we went through the line together. I noticed he was sporting a couple of bruises, too. “Hallway near the industrial-arts area,” he said, pointing to his face. “Restroom on the second-floor hallway,” I said, pointing to mine. Our usual spots with the guys were mysteriously filled, and someone had placed a little sign that read “No Faggots” on the table. Zoë beckoned us toward her, and we sat with the girls. That drew some comments, but it was way better than sitting in enemy territory. “How are you doing?” asked Zoë with considerable concern as Marty and I sat huddled together. “Not so good,” said Marty. “What can I do to help?” “I don’t think there is anything you can do, Zoë,” I said. “Yeah, we’re dead meat, any way you look at it,” said Marty. “I can’t believe Seth went out and told everyone!” said Zoë. “Believe it,” I said. “I begged him not to, but he couldn’t wait. I was actually starting to like him before he decided to ruin my life.” “Why would he do that?” asked Zoë. “I don’t know. He’s still head over heels in love with you, and he accused me of getting in his way, but even that doesn’t seem enough. Maybe he’s just a sadistic little bastard.” “I told him there couldn’t be anything between us right now because of his age, but maybe later…Well, he can forget that!” “So, you guys are really…I mean you really…,” asked one of Zoë’s friends sitting across from us. She wasn’t being unkind. She was just curious. “Yeah,” I said. “Marty and I are dating, and Zoë was kind enough to cover for us.” “What exactly do you…do?” “Violet!” said Zoë. “It’s okay,” I said. “We make out and we…um, give each other head.” I found it incredibly hard to describe what we did. Why did sex sound so nasty when one talked about it? “I’d love to watch that,” said Violet.

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“Violet!” said Zoë, shocked. I actually smiled for a moment. It was as close as I’d come to a laugh all day. “You two make a really cute couple,” said another of the girls. “Thanks,” said Marty, actually blushing. I knew everyone in the whole cafeteria was probably talking about us, but we were safe for the moment. Our tormentors seemed fearful of approaching our table, probably because they feared Zoë’s sharp tongue and the fact she had allies. I wasn’t exactly comfortable sitting there, but at least the girls didn’t treat us like something nasty they’d just discovered on the bottom of their shoe. “I’ve never met a real gay boy before,” said Violet. “Maybe you have and just didn’t know. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t molest children or eat babies.” “I prefer chocolate over babies myself,” said Marty, making a stab at being humorous. “Oh, I love chocolate!” said Violet. “We should start hanging out. What are you guys doing after school?” “I think we’re scheduled to get our asses kicked,” I said. “Maybe we could push that back until six,” said Marty. I was amazed that he was able to make jokes. “I’d like to just completely skip it myself.” “Why don’t a bunch of us go out for pizza or something?” asked Violet, looking around the table. “We can talk and…oh, oh! You guys can tell us which boys are the best hung. We have spies in the boy’s locker room now, girls!” The girls laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in, despite the seriousness of my situation. It was quickly decided that most of us would, indeed, go out for pizza after school. Several of the girls even volunteered to meet Marty and me at our respective last-period classes to act as bodyguards so we wouldn’t get our butts kicked. It sounded like a good plan to me. The support of the girls made me feel better, but I still had the run the gauntlet of the hallways. I was tripped, punched, called names, and generally abused whenever I wasn’t sitting in a classroom. There were moments of peace, but they didn’t last nearly as long as I wished. Violet, Zoë, and a couple of girls I didn’t know met me outside my last-period class and formed a protective barrier around me as I walked to my locker. We made stops at their lockers along the way. “Look, Sean is spending time with the other girls,” commented Tony Paulik as he passed.

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“And if you ever want to spend time with any of us, you’d better shut up right now,” said one of the girls I didn’t know. Tony quickly moved on. I was still called “faggot,” but it occurred less frequently in the presence of my bodyguards. I felt a bit self-conscious for taking refuge among the girls, but I needed all the friends I could get. Besides, they were fun to hang with, and I needed to snatch whatever happiness I could out of life. I knew I had an extremely rough road ahead, and I was going to need all the help I could get if I was to have any chance of making it. Soon, we met up with Marty and his entourage. Marty and I walked side by side in the midst of the girls. More than one of them grinned at us. We all walked to Mama’s Pizza downtown, which didn’t exist in my Verona, and all took a seat in an extra-large corner booth that almost entirely surrounded the table in the center. The girls announced it was their treat and proceeded to order Hawaiian pizzas, which they assured us were heaven on earth, and diet Cokes. Mama’s was done up in red-checked tablecloths, candles, curtains, wallpaper, glass lampshades—everything in red. It was rather dark, with most of the light coming from the hanging lamps overhead and candles on the table. The whole place smelled of pepperoni and oregano, and if the scent was any indication, the pizza was going to be delicious. “So,” said Violet, “let’s talk boys’ locker room. Who’s the biggest?” I could see she hadn’t been kidding around at lunch. She really wanted to know. “Come on. Dish! I know you guys have noticed!” “Sean,” said Marty. I immediately turned red as a beet. “He’s kidding,” I said quietly, hoping they’d stop looking at me. “Not by much,” said Marty, wiggling his eyebrows. “Greg Whitmore,” I said. “He’s hung like a horse.” “Really?” asked one of the girls I didn’t know. I spaced out two fingers, indicating about nine inches. “Holy shit!” said Violet. “Who comes in second?” “Skye, by about half an inch.” “God, Skye is beautiful,” said Violet. “I think about him every night.” I wondered what she’d think if she knew he was gay. Of course, I didn’t know for sure myself. All bets were off in this reality. Violet switched the topic slightly, and Marty and I found ourselves giving the girls an appraisal of the boys’ butts. Skye won that contest without a doubt. I felt a touch embarrassed and wicked discussing such things, but it was also a heck of a lot of fun.

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“Is this what girls talk about when they’re alone?” I asked. “Sometimes,” said Zoë, “but usually not this much. We generally don’t have such prime information available.” “You two are so lucky,” said Violet. “I’d love to get a look in the boys’ locker room. All those hot guys, naked and wet and…” “Calm yourself, Violet,” said one of the girls, and everyone laughed, including Violet. The girls joked and laughed, and Marty and I actually enjoyed ourselves. As promised, the pizza was delicious. Who would’ve thought that pineapple and ham on pizza could be a good thing? Marty and I were well aware that the rest of our lives could probably best be described as a living hell, but for the moment we were having fun. Not much more than twenty-four hours before, I would’ve never thought I’d laugh again, but I was, and it gave me hope that just maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as I’d first thought. I winced when I accidentally touched my cheek, which served as a reminder of what had happened in the restroom. I knew I had more of the same to look forward to, but that was my life now, just like being trapped in a world without Nick had been my lot for the last few weeks. We exited Mama’s as a group to find Seth standing on the sidewalk not far away. When Zoë caught sight of him she marched up to him and poked in him the chest. “Just what were you thinking, Seth, outing your brother like that?” “I, uh…” Seth looked frightened to death. If he’d known his actions were going to lead to this moment in time, I’m quite sure he would’ve never told a soul about Marty and me. Zoë continued to poke Seth in the chest as she talked, and he winced in pain. “Sean is one of my very best friends! We were dating to protect him, and you had to go and ruin it all! You know how I told you I’d probably be interested in you in a couple of years? Well, you can forget that now, Seth! I thought you were a little cutie who’d grow into quite a hunk, but I don’t care what you look like now, Seth, because you’re ugly inside! I hope you never find a girlfriend, and you can be damned sure you’ll never be dating me! I’m going to tell every girl I know what a nasty little beast you are!” Tears were beginning to stream from Seth’s eyes. I knew what a crush he had on Zoë and how her words must’ve hurt. I couldn’t find it in myself to pity him, however; he’d brought this on himself.

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Zoë shoved my little brother out of the way, and all the girls looked daggers at him as we passed. By the time they got done dissing him to all their friends, Seth’s name would be mud among nearly the entire female population of the school. It was a grim fate for a straight boy. His only hope is that some new girl would move to town and no one would tell her what he’d done, or maybe there’d be a foreign-exchange student in his future. One by one, and sometimes in pairs, the girls went their own way. Zoë and I walked Marty home, then she dropped me off at my house. I noticed my mother looking out the window and I was sure she heaved a sigh of relief. I’d decided not to destroy the little fantasy world she’d created for herself, mainly because my life at home would be easier if she thought what’d happened between Marty and me was just a one-time thing. “What happened to your face?” Mom asked as soon as I walked in the door. “Thanks to Seth’s big mouth, I gained a few hundred enemies today. A couple of the jocks at school decided they didn’t like me using the boys’ restroom.” “I’m sorry, dear, but things will get better; just you wait and see. How’s Zoë? I saw you out front with her. You should have asked her in.” I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes. “Zoë’s great. She really helped me out today. We went out for pizza with some of her friends.” “Oh, a date? That’s wonderful, Sean.” Mom might as well have said: That’s a good little heterosexual. My dad came home a little later, and we had an icy family supper around the kitchen table. We didn’t usually all eat at the same time, so I knew something was up. Dad started talking about the military schools he’d been looking into and how he thought my life needed a bit more structure. I paled in fear, but then Seth rescued me, unintentionally I’m sure. “You want to send a gay boy off to an all boys’ school?” asked Seth and laughed himself silly. “I’m sure Sean will be real popular there! Those places are full of homos!” “You’re brother isn’t gay, Seth. Things just got a bit out of hand,” said Mom. “Huh?” asked Seth, totally confused, “but…” “And that’s all we’re saying about the matter.” She turned to my dad, “Really, dear, a military school? Sean is dating that nice Zoë. He’s going to be just fine, but sending him off to a school like that is just asking for trouble.” That was the last I ever heard about military school. Between my brother’s sarcasm and my mother’s fantasy, the idea was crushed into dust.

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After supper, I went to my room and started on my homework. My life might be over, but there was always homework. I was willing to bet someone somewhere would have homework to do at the end of time. Seth came in not long after and plopped down on his bed. “They are so in denial,” he said. “Huh?” “Mom’s down there right now telling Dad how you went on a date with Zoë after school. They’re desperate to deny the fact that their eldest is a big old homo.” “They can believe what they want to believe. I don’t care.” “Well, I know you’re a cocksucking faggot, and so does everyone else.” “Why do you have to be so vulgar, can’t you just say ‘gay’?” “I like the sound of cocksucking faggot better; besides, it’s true. I can’t believe you’d do that; it’s sick.” “Yeah, and sticking your tongue between a girl’s legs is upright and moral.” “It’s the way things are supposed to be.” “Says the prejudiced and the foolish.” “Shut up, fag.” “Why don’t you shut up, virgin?” “I’m not a virgin.” “Whacking off doesn’t count as sex, Seth, and if it does, isn’t it gay?” “Huh?” “Well, you’re having sex with yourself and you’re a guy, so it’s gay sex. You’re gay, Seth!” I laughed. “I am not! Don’t say that!” “You are such an infant.” “You’re such a homo!” “Oh, by the way, I’d like to thank you for the bruises on my face. A couple of guys decided to use me as a punching bag in the restroom today.” “Whatever. Thank you for ruining things with Zoë for me!” “You did that all on your own, little brother, by being a complete, thoughtless jerk. I even warned you, but no, you were too hell-bent on ruining my life. If it’s come back to bite you in the ass, that’s your problem.” “I hate you.” “I gathered that when you outed me in a town of homophobes. You know those girls Marty and I were with? They’re totally pissed off at you. You’ll be lucky if you get laid before college. No girl around here is going to touch you.” “Shut up, faggot!”

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“If you want sex, you’re gonna have to do it with a guy.” “I bet you’re just dying to offer, aren’t you? I’ve seen you looking at me.” “In your dreams, virginal boy.” Seth uttered a cry of frustration and stomped out of the room. I grinned in triumph and returned to my homework.

SKYE—DECEMBER 1997 The remainder of Christmas vacation was tense. Due to road conditions, driving wasn’t an option. Just about everything in Verona was within easy walking distance, but the bitter cold made going outside unpleasant. I did little more than go to The Ab Crunch for work. I was both dreading and eagerly anticipating the end of vacation. Dreading, because Janelle would be leaving and eagerly anticipating, because Josh’s parents would return and he could get the hell out of my house. It’s damned hard to pretend to like someone when you hate his guts. Josh and I did a pretty good job, though. I don’t think Mom caught on that our friendship had ended. I was a little sad about losing Josh at first, but I was so pissed off that the feeling soon dissipated. I didn’t need a homophobe for a best friend. I didn’t like him dating Mom at all now, but he did make her happy and I wasn’t quite sure what would happen if they stopped dating. Josh might decide to turn on me if that happened. I needed to get something on him to make sure he kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use what was right in front of me, because exposing his relationship with my mom would hurt her a good deal more than him. No, I could never use that information against him. He had no proof, anyway. If he did try to out me, I’d just concoct a story about how we’d fallen out and how he was talking trash about me just because we’d become enemies. No one in their right mind would believe I was queer. Thank God for stereotypes. My peers were convinced that all queers were weak, effeminate, and spoke with a lisp. It would take hard evidence to convince them otherwise. Then again, people loved a scandal, and I had enemies. A lot of my classmates would probably pretend they believed I was queer, even if they didn’t. If enough people believed it, I was dead meat. My reign as the Alpha male would be over in a flash.

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I was completely bummed out on the day Janelle departed. I drove her to the airport, and she cried as she hugged me just before getting on the plane. I patted Colin on the head and watched them both disappear into the distance. The drive home was quiet. I didn’t even turn on the radio. Sometimes, silence is best. ✶

✶

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✶

Josh made no pretense about being my friend at school. He was openly hostile, and that was fine by me. I returned his hostility with enthusiasm. The real reason for our breakup as friends could not be revealed, so Josh had concocted a story of a love triangle with a fictitious visitor who accompanied my sister from California. We’d both wanted her and it’d come to blows. It was actually a fairly good story—short, believable, uncomplicated, and impossible to prove or disprove. It had the added advantage of making us both look like virile, aggressive young studs willing to fight over a girl. I was pleased, but still hated his guts. Josh wasn’t the only one who was hostile. Jimmy gazed at me sullenly whenever our paths crossed. I’d called him and told him not to worry. Josh would keep his mouth shut and so would my sister, but fear of exposure wasn’t the only thing up his butt, if you’ll forgive the pun. He was obviously smoldering over what I’d done to him and the fact that Josh had seen it. He’d just have to get over it, however, because the whole thing was in the past. Well, that wasn’t quite true. I yearned to use Jimmy yet again, and he was going to bend over for me whenever I wanted. Despite the hostility festival, it was good to be back. Football season was over, of course, and I’d miss it, but I still ruled the school. I was going to miss the locker room and showers almost as much as football itself; then again, I did have my own personal boy toy, who was the hottest of them all. I could go without sightseeing until next season. I still almost couldn’t believe Jimmy had been delivered into my hands. It was obviously meant to be. The pleasure of work in The Ab Crunch was dimmed by the presence of my former best friend. I now regretted getting him the job, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Josh and I were professional at work, only glaring at each other with hatred when no one else was around. We knew we were stuck together, so we made the best of it. Jimmy showed up just before closing, as ordered. I locked up at ten and walked back to the locker room, Jimmy following me like an obedient slave. He got on his knees when I pointed to the floor, and I made good use of him. He balked when I told him to bend over a bench, and I had to remind him he was

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my bitch by slamming him into a locker and refreshing his memory concerning a certain video tape. Jimmy glared at me with pure hatred, but he did as he was told. I can’t even begin to describe the rush I felt from using a straight boy. The feeling of power and control was intense. I could tell Jimmy was edgy the next day. He’d stomped out of The Ab Crunch the night before with a major bad attitude. I nearly belted him for it, but I was feeling all mellow and relaxed after using him as my sex slave. There’s nothing like good sex for relaxation. I went home and straight to bed. But Jimmy continued to fume the next day. When he looked at me, he not only glared with contempt, he actually muttered under his breath. The boy was losing control. I guess it was pretty hard for him to go from being the Alpha male to Skye’s bitch, but life is like that. We all have to deal with disappointment. I’d had more than my share over the years. How long had I been forced to live in Jimmy’s shadow because he was cheating with steroids? In my opinion, he was merely getting what he had coming to him. He should never have been top dog. It should always have been me. Jimmy had cheated me out of my rightful place for years, and I’d never forgive him for that. The showdown came at lunch. I was halfway expecting it. Jimmy had walked around all morning like a bomb looking for someplace to go off. Guys were scurrying out of his path in fear, and even the girls were hanging back. He was in a pissed-off mood; that much was obvious to everyone. Jimmy sat in my seat at the table. It was open defiance. I knew this moment would eventually come. Jimmy hadn’t been the Alpha male for all that time for nothing. He was strong, confident, and had a major chip on his shoulder. I’d made him my bitch, and I knew he could only swallow that for so long before exploding. Only an idiot wouldn’t have expected rebellion at some point or other. “Get out of my seat,” I said as I approached. “Fuck off, Skye.” The boy did have balls. I had to say that much for him. He was also stupid, but that was beside the point. “I’m not going to tell you again.” Jimmy ignored me. I set my tray down on another table, grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. He jumped to his feet and took a swing at me. I was ready for him, of course. Where Jimmy was enraged, I was cool and confident. I had the advantage. I sidestepped him and rammed my fist into his gut, doubling him over. Jimmy let out a clearly audible grunt of pain. He came back at me quickly, but this I anticipated, too. I got him in the jaw with a powerful

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right hook that sent him flying backwards before his fist could even begin to make contact. “Don’t ever fuck with me!” I announced loudly for all to hear. Jimmy was ready to come back for more, but Greg dropped down beside him and began to whisper in his ear. Greg helped him to his feet and led him away. “Yeah, that’s right, bitch, walk away before you get your ass kicked!” I called after him. Jimmy didn’t make it far before Mr. Morrison, the teacher on cafeteria duty, nabbed him. Mr. Morrison pointed at me and motioned for me to follow. I did. I knew this was coming, too. I’d probably get detention or even suspended for a few days, but it was worth it. Jimmy was such a fool. If he’d had an ounce of sense he would’ve realized I held all the cards. If he had managed to kick my ass, I would’ve made his life a living hell. As it was, I’d kicked his ass. He hadn’t managed to land a single punch. He’d just showed the whole cafeteria he was weaker than I was. What’s more, he’d walked away with his tail tucked between his legs. Jimmy was my bitch and now everyone knew it. There was no need to hide it anymore. I got a week of detention, but it was well worth it. Since football was over, detention fit nicely in between school and work. It was nothing. I had to sit in a room, keep quiet, and do my homework. Big deal! Hell, all it did was make sure I finished my homework early. I thought of asking if I could have detention for the rest of the year. Jimmy was right in there with me, of course. He got two weeks for attacking me. I nearly laughed in his face, but didn’t think it wise because we were being watched. Besides, there would be plenty of time for that sort of thing later. I ordered him to meet me at The Ab Crunch just before closing as usual, and I knew he’d show. I locked the doors at ten again and escorted Jimmy back to the locker room. He still looked angry, but also frightened and upset. “You’re really a dumb fuck, you know that?” I said. It was a statement, not a question. “Do you know how stupid it was to challenge me in front of the whole school? You picked a fight with me in front of everyone. You provided me with just cause to kick your ass. Now I can treat you like my little bitch in front of everyone and they’ll think it goes back to your pathetic attack. I don’t have to keep what’s between us such a secret anymore.” “You can’t tell anyone about the sex,” said Jimmy. “Duh! Of course not, bitch! What I can do is dominate your sorry ass in public now. Just how far I go with that depends on you. If you keep your tail tucked

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between your legs and stay out of my way, I’ll take it easy on you at school, but if you fuck with me, I’ll show everyone how you’re my little bitch. Does the name Ryan Maclaine ring a bell? Do you want to be like him? Do you want everyone to know you’re my bitch?” I hadn’t thought about Ryan in quite a while. I’d taken him down nearly a year before by kicking his ass. With Ryan it wasn’t planned. He merely pissed me off when I was in a bad mood. There was nothing sexual going on between us. Ryan was a hottie, but he was nothing compared to Jimmy. The fact that he so meekly submitted to me after one beating made him less attractive, too. He was hardly worth picking on after I’d taken him down. Jimmy looked more frightened than ever at the mention of his name, however, so maybe Ryan had a use after all—as an example. “I guess I really should thank you. You’ve made my life a whole lot easier, and you’ve secured my position as the Alpha male. Most people hadn’t realized that the power had shifted, but they all know it now.” “You planned this, didn’t you? You manipulated me into attacking you!” said Jimmy, his anger growing. I grinned. “That’s the difference between us, Jimmy. I’ve got brawn and brains; all you’ve got is muscles.” “I hate you,” said Jimmy quietly, as if he feared to say it too loud. “Aww, you don’t have to love me, Jimmy; you just have to do what I say. Don’t worry, it won’t affect your precious football scholarship. You know it’s in my best interest not to endanger your future. After all, it’s control of your future that gives me power over you—that and a certain video tape.” Jimmy didn’t look happy at all. He looked as if he was about to cry. There was no need to taunt him about it any longer. He knew he’d played right into my hands. “Now,” I said. “Let’s get down to business. Take those clothes off, Jimmy; you know what I want.”

TAYLOR—DECEMBER 1980 I awakened early the next morning—too early, actually, but I was so fearful of being late for work that I couldn’t sleep. I definitely needed to buy an alarm clock. It had been extremely hard to find a job, and I was determined to keep it. I didn’t get out of bed; rather, I lay there next to Mark under the single blanket we shared, trying to keep warm. That’s something else I wanted to buy—the thickest, warmest blanket available. The blanket we had was soft and comfy. We’d picked it up at a resale shop for practically nothing along with blankets for everyone else. Chase had provided the money. That’s one thing I liked about our little group. We didn’t always get along, but we watched out for each other. There were plenty of nights when Mark, Marshall, and I would have had nothing to eat if Chandler hadn’t shown up with baked goods. With the money I’d be able to make now, I could finally contribute more to the group. So far our only real contribution had been our services as the designated bargain hunters. We did make whatever money that was available go much farther, but now we could contribute something more tangible. Mark stirred beside me and awakened. He grinned at me and planted a kiss on my lips. I pulled him close, and we began to make out. That led to other things, of course, and by the time we were done we were unaware of the near-freezing temperature around us. “Come on,” I said, leading him out of the box that was our home, “I’m taking you to breakfast. I’ll grab Marshall, too.” I hadn’t seen Marshall since the day before. He didn’t mind being awakened one bit when he found out we were going to have a real meal. He was ecstatic when he discovered I had a real job, and he became more determined than ever to find his own. There was a Denny’s not far away that had a $2.99 breakfast special. It came with pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon—a true feast compared to our usual fare. - 351 -

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We all ordered the special and water. I had a job now, but each penny needed to be stretched as far as it would go. “After breakfast, why don’t you guys walk me to work, then you can meet me there after I get off and we’ll hit the resale shops. I need to get some shirts for work, and I want to get another blanket for everyone if I can afford it.” I explained what Evan had said about pulling in more tips if I wore tighter clothes. Marshall giggled. “So this is like a gay café?” asked Marshall. “I didn’t know such places existed.” “The café isn’t gay, Marshall, but the vast majority of customers are. Apparently, right around the Murat is where a lot of the gay population of Indy lives.” We talked more about the café. Marshall found it fascinating. I’d been a little worried that Mark might not be entirely pleased I was working in a situation where a lot of gay guys would be flirting with me and maybe even touching me, but that’s where our mutual trust saved us. Mark knew I was devoted to him, just as he was to me. That kind of trust was worth its weight in gold. I felt a little guilty spending so much on breakfast when I’d get a free meal at the diner. Then again, I had a busy morning coming up, and I’d need my strength. I wasn’t exactly in top form. It was good to see Mark and Marshall eat well for once, too. If things kept going well for us, we’d be hungry a lot less often. Breakfast was delicious. When you’ve been hungry, really hungry, and not sure where your next meal is coming from, something like breakfast at Denny’s is a treat beyond belief. Never once back in Verona had I appreciated a good meal as I did now. Mark, Marshall, and I were all laughing and having a great time, just because for once we had enough to eat. If I ever got in a position to do so, I was going to help others as much as I could so that they’d have plenty to eat, too. I paid the check and gave Mark the remainder of the money I’d earned the day before. I wouldn’t need it, but they would. It made me feel a lot better knowing that when they got hungry, they could get something to eat. I kind of enjoyed being the provider, too. Mark had given me so much, and now I felt like I could give something back. “It’s such a relief that you have a job, Tay. Now if Marshall and I can find jobs, we’ll be doing fine.” “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could actually get our own place someday, just the three of us?” I said. “Maybe we could even finish high school,” said Marshall. “And have a real life.”

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“I think I’d be a third wheel, though,” said Marshall. “You guys are a couple, and I’m…well, me.” “Hey, we’re in this together, Marshall. We Verona boys have to stick up for each other. I’m sure someday you’ll want to find yourself one of those things, um—I think they’re called girls—and make a life with her, but until then you’re sticking with us,” said Mark. Marshall smiled. It was amazing how pleasant the morning seemed now that I had a job. It was such a contrast from the day before. I was seeing the first glimmer of hope that just maybe we’d be able to make it after all. Perhaps, we even had a future. Mark and Marshall dropped me off at the café, and I went inside. It was 8:45 a.m. “You’re early,” said Hugh. “I like that.” “I have no intention of ever being late,” I said. The café didn’t officially open until 9:00, but there were already a couple of elderly gentlemen sitting at a table eating. It wasn’t long before another customer arrived, this one a college-aged boy with unruly long brown hair and glasses. He looked quite studious. In fact, he pulled a worn copy of Catcher in the Rye out of his back pocket and placed it on the table before taking a seat. I took a glass of ice water and a menu to his table, introduced myself, and departed to give him time to decide on his order. Hanson’s specialized in upscale lunch and dinner items, but offered a limited breakfast selection of croissants, gourmet donuts, rolls, and bagels, as well as muffins and a few other items. The young Salinger admirer ordered a blueberry muffin, a bagel with raspberry cream cheese, and a cup of vanilla crème tea. He didn’t glance at me as he ordered. In fact he’d didn’t look at me at all until he handed me his menu. When he did, his eyes widened slightly and he smiled. I was back with his order in a flash since it required no real preparation. It was just a matter of artfully placing the items on one of the café’s fine porcelain plates. Just as I set the plate down on the table, more customers arrived. The next hour was a flurry of activity. Not until about 10:30 did things begin to slow down. I was glad for the break, although I loved how quickly time passed when I was busy. More customers meant more tips, too. I was doing quite nicely and was already dreaming of the blankets I could buy for the other kids. I felt a bit like Santa Claus. Things began to pick up again about 11, and by noon I was flying around the café like a man possessed. I enjoyed it immensely, however, despite the fact that

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my feet were crying out for a break. I loved moving from table to table, taking orders, bringing food, and making sure everyone had just what they wanted. Evan was right, a lot of the customers flirted with me, especially the middle-aged men. One even pinched my butt, which was going a bit far. I think I handled the situation well. I turned around and told him that he owed me an extra-large tip. He laughed, but when he departed I found he’d left me $10. Another customer, this one in his late forties and quite attractive, leaned over and quietly said, “I’d love to be your daddy.” I was a bit taken back by that, but I just smiled and calmly replied. “I’m sorry, but I’m already taken.” “The truly beautiful ones always are,” he said wistfully. He left me a nice tip, too. Most of the men weren’t so bold. Many of those who came in were obviously couples, and I discovered that what most of the single men wanted was a friendly smile and a bit of conversation. There was more to being a waiter than just bringing food. I didn’t have my own lunch until nearly two. I was glad I’d had a good breakfast; otherwise, I would have been starving. Hugh was kind enough to cover for me while I ate, although I told him I’d be more than happy to grab a bite of my meal now and then between customers. Hugh had told me the day before I’d be on until three. I loved my new job; still, I was glad to see Evan walk in the door. “How is flying solo working out for you?” he asked. “Just fine. I haven’t spilled anything on anyone or broken a glass all morning.” “You’re doing better than I did in the beginning, then,” said Evan. There weren’t many customers, so we chatted a bit until I noticed Mark and Marshall through the window. “I’m taking off,” I called out to Hugh. “See you tomorrow at nine, Taylor.” I stepped outside to be greeted by Mark and Marshall. “Let’s go shopping!” I said. “You’re in a good mood,” said Marshall. “Yeah, I haven’t counted it yet, but I made some good tips today. One guy even left me ten bucks!” I neglected to tell them he’d pinched my butt, even though I knew it wouldn’t bother Mark. “How has your day gone?” I asked. “No luck finding a job, of course,” said Mark, “but we’ve had a good day. We went crazy and bought some jelly to have with our peanut butter. Chandler had

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some croissants, and so we all had a big peanut-butter-and-jelly-on-croissant feast. It was delicious!” “Sounds good,” I said. “What did you have?” asked Marshall. “I’m almost ashamed to tell you, but I had a barbeque steak sandwich, spiced fries, and the most incredible chocolate cake. Working in a gourmet café sure has its advantages.” We hit Goodwill and found three nice blankets for only $3 each. I couldn’t find any shirts like I needed, but I did get a nice pair of jeans that were just tight enough to be sexy, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. We walked to one of the resale shops next. There I found a black, ribbed, muscle shirt that looked as if it had cost plenty new, but was now only $1. I tried it on. It hugged my body tightly, but was comfortable enough. “What do you think?” I asked. “God, you’re beautiful,” said Mark. “Damn, I almost want you,” said Marshall. “This is the shirt, then,’ I said, laughing. We hit a couple more resale shops. We managed to find enough blankets for everyone, and I found a tight dressy white short-sleeved shirt and another muscle shirt, also in white. I also bought a little windup alarm clock so I wouldn’t have to worry about being late for work. We walked back to the village in triumph and distributed the blankets. Everyone gladly received them. December had come and the temperatures were dropping. I was glad I had Mark to snuggle with. I pitied poor Marshall sleeping alone. Even with Mark by my side I was never warm enough. “Damn, what happened to you?” asked Mark when he got a look at Chase. Chase had a black eye and bruise on the side of his face. “One of my customers got a little rough last night. Fucking sadist. I got him, though. I stole his wallet.” Chase laughed, holding up a wad of cash. “Pizza tonight, everyone!” There were cheers all around. For the tribe, having pizza was going to be like Christmas coming early. Mark and I sat down in front of the box we called home. He pulled off my shoes and rubbed my feet. They were aching. I wasn’t used to being on them all day. The foot massage felt so wonderful I nearly fell asleep. True to his word, Chase grabbed Chandler and Marshall, and later they returned with enough hot pizza for all of us. It was delicious. We had ourselves a little party, sitting around in a circle, bundled up against the cold. Life hadn’t

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been exactly kind to any of us, yet we were making what we could out of it. We were there for each other, and that made things a lot easier. Even Caleb cared about the tribe. Sure, he was insanely jealous and exploded if anyone got too friendly with Patti, but deep down he was a kind, caring individual. Chase cared about all of us, too. He sold his body on the street, but in my opinion he was a far more upright citizen than those who went to church but didn’t care about anyone but themselves. I thought that maybe there were just two kinds of people in the world: those who acted all upright and proper and those who just lived their lives and tried to help out others as they could. It seemed ironic that those who could least afford to help others did so the most. ✶

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The next day I felt a bit self-conscious as I pulled off my leather jacket in the Hanson Café. My clothing clung so tightly to my body I felt naked. I was wearing the jeans I’d purchased the evening before as well as the black muscle shirt. I had on the gold chain I always wore. “I see Evan’s been giving you some pointers,” said Hugh. “Yeah,” I said, smiling shyly. “Have you been making good tips?” “Yes.” “Well, dressed like that you’ll do even better. My customers appreciate a good-looking young man. That’s one reason I hired you—to improve the ambiance.” I grinned, but didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel quite like myself dressed in my new clothes. I’d never given a lot of thought to my own body, other than how it performed when I was playing soccer or making love to Mark. My body was just…me. It didn’t really require thought. During the day I did get more looks from customers and bigger tips. It seemed kind of odd that guys would give me better tips just because my clothes were tight, but I wasn’t going to waste time pondering my good fortune. If tight clothes brought in more money, it was great. Hugh said I was a natural as a waiter. I was friendly, courteous, and efficient. I was glad to hear it. In the beginning, I was afraid I’d mess everything up, but it hadn’t been that difficult. Don’t get me wrong; it was a lot of work, but I was glad to do it.

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Just after the lunch rush I looked out the window. Fluffy white flakes were falling from the sky. Snow! It was snowing. It was a beautiful sight to behold, yet it was a reminder of how cold it was out there. One of the fringe benefits to working in the café that no one else probably considered was the heat. I was wearing a thin, sleeveless muscle shirt, yet I was good and warm. I thought of Mark, Marshal, and the others, hoping they weren’t too cold. Todd said he and Eduardo often spent long winter hours in the library looking at magazines, reading, and enjoying the warmth. No one bothered them if they were reading. I thought I might suggest that Mark and Marshall do that, too, when they weren’t out looking for work. I was becoming increasingly worried about how we would all handle the cold. A time might well come when the blankets weren’t enough. I got pretty cold at night even snuggled up next to Mark, and winter hadn’t even hit hard yet. Most of the tribe could go to shelters if the weather truly turned bitter, but Mark and I were still fugitives. Could we dare enter a shelter as wanted men? I put it out of my mind. We were better off than we had been in a long time. We had enough to eat, and I was actually bringing in more money than we needed. There was hope for the future. That’s what I had to do: remember that our future would be brighter. Our past was a tragedy I couldn’t think about without crying, but we were doing okay now, and hopefully the future held a better life for us all. Somehow, the snow outside made me feel cozy, even though I knew I’d be returning to the cold in a short time. Hugh must have been affected by the snow as well, because for the first time he put a soft Christmas CD on the sound system. Soon the sounds of Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas provided gentle background music for the diners. I wondered what our Christmas would be like. It would be the first without my parents. I wondered how Mom would feel about my not being there. I wondered how she felt about a lot of things, like the fact that her son was a murderer. I tried not to think about Jon too much, and when I did I reminded myself it was an accident; still, the fact remained that I’d killed one of my friends. Because of me, Jon would never experience Christmas again. I would have traded places with him if I could’ve, but the universe didn’t allow me that. I was damned to live with guilt for the rest of my life. I could never forget about Jon, but my parents were another matter. They weren’t a part of my life any longer. My father had made it crystal clear he didn’t have a son anymore, and Mom had stood right there and let him hit me. I think

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there would’ve been hope for Mom and me, but what happened on that last night in Verona ended that. I could never go home again. My home is wherever Mark is, I reminded myself and smiled. My new look was definitely bringing in more tips. It was getting me a bit of unwanted attention, too. One of my customers actually groped me. I jumped back quickly and told him that wasn’t allowed in the café. His only response was, “Can’t blame me for trying.” At least he left me a good tip. Two guys in their mid-thirties offered me a hundred bucks to come home with them. When I turned them down, they upped their offer to two hundred, then three. I told them I was flattered, but that I didn’t do that. They were disappointed, but took no for an answer. They left me a nice tip, too. Those little uncomfortable incidents actually made me feel a good deal better about myself. I don’t mean they made me feel desirable and attractive. Mark made me feel those things every day of my life. I was able to handle the situations well, without causing a scene. I was able to assert myself and be my own man. That’s what made me proud of myself. After work I stepped out into the still-falling snow. I was bundled up in my leather jacket, but a chill still ran down the back of my neck. Would I ever get used to my short hair? I shivered and remembered that my friends had been out in the cold all day, while I’d been warm and comfy in Hanson’s. I wasn’t looking forward to the icy chill of the night. Except when I was at work, I never felt warm enough. I walked to the Goodwill. I’d spotted a white and green soccer ball there the day before, but had passed it over. It cost just a couple of bucks, but I was trying to be as frugal as possible. I decided I wanted to buy it after all. I was dying for a little soccer. Thankfully, it was still there, because I would’ve been disappointed if it’d been gone. Mark and Marshall were in the village when I returned as well as everyone else except for Brooke and Ike. Mark and I started messing around with the ball, and soon we had an audience. I was out of practice, but I could still keep the ball bouncing off my feet, knees, chest, and head for a very long time. It would’ve been a good deal easier in shorts, but it was way too cold for that. It totally amazed everyone there, except for Mark, who had seen it before and could do it himself. I was freezing. I’d replaced my leather jacket with a sweatshirt for greater mobility, but it just wasn’t enough. That changed when we started a pickup game, however. On one team were Mark, Chase, Chandler, Mason, and Patti, and on the other were Marshall, Todd, Caleb, Eduardo, and myself.

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There weren’t any good players, except for Mark and myself, but it hardly mattered. Chandler giggled whenever he went after the ball, and that alone made the game worthwhile. We all kind of looked after Chandler, as if he was our kid. I guess we were all kids in a way, but there’s a lot of difference between thirteen and sixteen. Most of our tribe had been on the streets quite a while, and that made them grow up fast. I could feel myself growing up quickly, too. I was out in the big, bad world, not on my own, but not in the comfort of a loving home, either. I don’t know what I would have done without Mark. I liked Marshall and my newly found family, but Mark was the one who really made it possible for me to hold on. Even when things were at their worst, Mark was there. Just knowing I could feel safe wrapped in his arms at night was enough to make me feel secure. Mason scored a goal, shooting the ball right past Todd and Caleb and between two small boxes we’d designated as one of the goals. He shouted, “Yeah!” and danced around, flexing his arms over this head. He looked so comical I couldn’t help but laugh, and neither could anyone else. His team patted him on the back, and Mason beamed. Mark and I kind of held back. We spent our time setting up others to score, rather than doing it ourselves. I don’t want to sound immodest, but the others weren’t much of a challenge for us. Soccer was our game, not theirs. I had a feeling they’d be playing it often, however, if they could stand the cold. Everyone had rosy cheeks, and my fingers were going numb. After awhile, Brooke, then Ike also wandered in and joined our game. We must’ve played for a good hour. My ears hurt from the cold wind by the time we stopped, and I yearned for the warmth of the café. That gave me an idea. “Who’s up for hot cocoa and cookies?” I asked. “I’m buying.” Of course, everyone was. It made me feel good inside to be able to afford a treat for our little tribe. Chandler and Mason looked like I’d just announced it was Christmas morning. I slipped back into my worn leather jacket, luxuriating in its warmth. I definitely needed to purchase a toboggan to cover my ears. Mark and Marshall both needed one, too. The rest of our little group had them and didn’t seem to be suffering from the cold nearly as badly as I was. I’d heard somewhere that more body heat escapes through the head than anywhere else. That didn’t seem to make a lot of sense, but I guess it was true. Without my long mane of hair I was unprotected from the cold. “You sure you can afford this, Taylor?” asked Chase as we walked toward The Hanson Café.

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“Yeah, I made really good tips today, and Hugh, the owner, said me and my guests could eat for half price. I told him about the tribe, so he won’t be surprised I’m bringing so many.” “I’ll tell you what; let’s make this a real party. I’ll pay for burgers and fries or whatever for everyone,” said Chase. “Awesome!” I said. Chase made the announcement, and our joy increased. Getting a good meal was always cause for celebration. I took Mark’s hand, and we walked down the street in the midst of the tribe. I didn’t know if I could recall ever having so much fun before. Upon our arrival at the café I helped Evan put enough tables together for the twelve of us. I told Evan I’d wait on the tribe myself, since he was quite busy. It took quite a while to get everyone’s order, but no one really cared. I gave the orders to Ben, the cook, and told him there was no hurry. I knew the whole tribe would be quite content to sit inside in the warmth for a long as possible. I returned to the table and sat in my place between Mark and Marshall. Everyone sipped ice water, chatted, and enjoyed sitting down in a restaurant for once. We generally subsisted on things like dry cereal, Pop Tarts, peanut butter & jelly, and day-old bread and were happy to get it. Having a real meal was a treat. Instrumental Christmas music played softly in the background, and candles on the table cast a warm glow. The low vases of roses had been replaced with small potted red and white poinsettias. A few decorations were up already, but we had yet to put up the tree. That gave me an idea. I excused myself for a moment, talked to Hugh, and returned. I didn’t say anything to the others just yet, but I was pleased with my little idea. Nearly everyone ordered burgers and fries, and it was only a half hour before Hugh beckoned to me. I went back into the kitchen to bring out the trays of food and drinks. The tribe set itself to hungrily devouring supper. I was accustomed to the gourmet cuisine of the café, but the others expressed astonishment as to the quality and taste of the food. “You are soooo lucky to get to eat here every day,” said Ike. “Don’t I know it!” I meant it with all my heart. I worked hard in the café, but the surroundings were pleasing. Hugh, the workers, and most of the customers were pleasant, and I got a free meal daily. What was not to like? I’d established a routine. Mark, Marshall, and I went to Denny’s for a big and inexpensive breakfast each morning. Then, I had a late and large lunch and I was set for the day. Rarely did I get hungry before bedtime. I was able to earn enough

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tips to pay for breakfast, to give Mark and Marshall money for food, and to have some to spare for clothing and other necessities. Even after helping the tribe out, I was able to put a bit back for the future. In my current circumstances, I was doing as well as could be expected. I would have been a good deal happier if I could’ve forgotten why Mark and I were on the run, but my past haunted me. Remembering was my punishment. I was troubled about our future, too. It was uncertain, and the nights were getting colder. Even with all that hanging over my head, I was enjoying my life, and what was more important than that? I pushed all my worries to the side for the moment and enjoyed the company of my friends. After the last plate had been cleaned, I stood, tapped my glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, then made my announcement. “Before we move on to hot cocoa and cookies, I thought you all might want to help me set up and decorate the café’s Christmas tree.” The whole tribe seemed quite as excited by the idea as I thought they might be. There was no tree in our little village and wasn’t likely to be, but the tree in the café could be “ours” after a fashion. I knew that one of my favorite things about Christmas was decorating the tree, and I was pleased that the idea was so well received by everyone. I knew Hugh would be glad to get the tree up, too. So far, we hadn’t found time to get to it. The tree was artificial, which wasn’t as good as the real thing, but since it would likely be up for a month or so, a live tree wouldn’t do. I helped Hugh cart it and the lights and decorations out of the back, then set out to clear the table while the others started in on the tree. Hugh placed a little “reserved” sign on our table. He smiled as he watched our little tribe assemble the tree. They had it in place and were already stringing on the lights before I joined them. Mark plugged in the lights when the last strand was on, and a multicolored glow filled that entire corner of the room. The tree was already beautiful without decorations or icicles. I was a little concerned that some decorations might get broken, but each bulb was treated with such great care that my fear soon dissipated. Most of the decorations were plain bulbs in red, green, blue, pink, yellow, lavender, and silver. They reflected the lights beautifully. Each of us placed a few on the tree, selecting just the right location, of course. I just stood back and observed mostly, holding my arm around Mark as we watched the others. I leaned my head against his shoulder for a while, feeling so content, warm, and loved. When I lifted my head, I kissed him. A few of the patrons saw us and smiled. I wished I could live my whole life in that moment.

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Next to go on were the icicles. We all gathered around and put on a few strands at a time. When we’d finished, the whole tree twinkled. Last to be set in place was the angel, a golden-haired beauty with white robes. Todd held it out to me, and I took it from him and handed it to Chandler. Mark helped Chandler climb unto my shoulders, and I held him steady while he placed the angel on the top of the tree. Chandler was so happy he gave me a kiss on the cheek as I set him down on the floor once more. We all just stood there looking at our tree while the Christmas music softly played and the candles released their pine scent into the warm air of the café. We returned to the table, and soon I helped Hugh bring out hot cocoa and cookies for all. Hugh had set out not one cookie each as I’d ordered but two and told me the cocoa and cookies were on the house. The cookies at The Hanson Café were extra large, humongous in fact, a complete dessert, at least for me, and two of them was quite a feast. I had little doubt we’d be able to polish them off, however. I loved the café cookies; they were chocolate chip, all gooey and chewy and had pecans, walnuts, and even a bit of coconut in them. I think they just might have been the best cookies ever. The hot cocoa was the perfect complement, as I knew well. I often had hot cocoa and a cookie as dessert after my meal in the café. It was yet another reason I loved working there. When the last crumb had been consumed and the last mug drained, I cleared the table and paid the check with the funds provided by Chase. There were thanks all ’round to Chase, Hugh, and myself. I was pleased. Everyone waited until I finished carting off the mugs and plates, then we set off for the village together, our bellies full and all warmed up for the cold night. It was snowing as we stepped outside. Mark pulled me close, and we walked arm in arm surrounded by the others. When we got home, Mark and I climbed straight into bed. We didn’t make love, but just held each other after giving each other a good-night kiss. It just might have been the best night of my life.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 My nightmares continued, but like the other unpleasantness in my life, I tried not to dwell on them. Each dream was like a little visit to hell, but I shook off the fear, grief, and dread as quickly as possible upon waking. I reminded myself that, horrible as they were, they were only dreams. I even developed a sort of tolerance for them. I was assailed every single night by nightmarish images, so I gradually became a bit desensitized in much the same way as those who watch the news become desensitized to violence. They were unpleasant still, but I was developing the ability to deal with them to some degree. I plowed into Jimmy Kerstadd on the way to school. I did so because he stepped out of an alley right into my path. I bounced off his thick chest and would’ve fallen had he not grabbed my wrists and pulled me into the alley. He slammed me up against the wall, and my head swam. “There’s nothing I hate more than a fag,” Jimmy spat out. I knew I was dead meat. Jimmy was the strongest, best-built boy in the whole school. He could bench press me with ease. I wished with all my heart that Skye and I were friends in this reality as we were in the other, because everyone knew that Jimmy did whatever Skye said. As my brother so vulgarly put it, Jimmy was Skye’s bitch. There was no such friendship to save me, however. Jimmy was alone, but he didn’t need any help. He was capable of taking out just about anyone and could handle me with ease. I’d noticed Jimmy’s muscles long ago, as well as his blond hair and blue eyes. He was physically gorgeous, although his personality left much to be desired. “I’ve never done anything to you,” I said as I squirmed to get away. “That’s only because you’re too weak and puny. If you had some kind of power over me, you’d use it, fag. I know what fags are like. I bet you fucking fantasize about me, don’t you?”

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“No, no! Come on, Jimmy! We both know you can beat me senseless, so what’s the point? Please, man, just let me go. I won’t so much as look at you. I’ll do whatever you want. Please!” “I could let you go, but then I’d miss out on the fun of kicking your ass, and that is the point, faggot.” Jimmy’s fist flashed out and made contact with my lower jaw. I tasted blood. He nailed me in the gut next and I went down hard, crying and clutching my stomach. Jimmy began to viciously kick me. “I—fucking—hate—all—you—faggots!” he said, kicking me as he said each word for emphasis. I realized he could kill me, and I was in such pain I hoped he’d do it and do it quickly. He stopped, however, and glared down at me, his chest heaving. “Until we meet again, faggot!” he said, giving me one final kick before he departed. I writhed on the pavement for a few minutes, crying, until I could manage to pull myself up and lean against the brick wall. I spat out blood, but all my teeth seemed to be in place. I painfully stood and limped my way down the alley and back out onto the street. My first day after being outed hadn’t been nearly as bad as I’d expected, but the second was not starting out so well. If this day continued as it had begun, I’d be dead by nightfall. I was late to school and had to get a pass from the office to get into class. I also had to explain what’d happened to me. I made up a story about being jumped by a couple of guys I didn’t know. Maybe I should have reported Jimmy, but what was the point? He was a football star, and everyone would just hate me all the more for causing him trouble. He’d probably hunt me down and kick my ass again for it, too. I was deathly afraid of Jimmy now. I never wanted to cross his path again. The one good thing about being late is I could go into the restroom and get myself cleaned up without worrying too much about someone beating me up. A new bruise was forming on my jaw, and the dried trickle of blood looked particularly nasty. I wiped away as much evidence of the beating as I could, but I was still a mess. I was going to alter my route to and from school daily from now on. When I got to my locker I found that someone had spray-painted “cocksucker” on it. I was sure everyone had seen it. It was just what I didn’t need, a bit more humiliation. The janitor arrived to try to clean it off as I was pulling books out of my locker, and I looked away embarrassed as he neared.

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Zoë looked horrified as I walked into my first-period classroom, but some of the boys giggled. Yeah, the fag got his ass kicked by a guy twice his size. Laugh it up, bastards. I took my seat, smiled weakly at Zoë and tried to lose myself in the lesson. I didn’t succeed. My mind was too full of random thoughts. I wondered if this is what it had been like for Taylor and Mark. I’d read their journals in my other life. I often wondered how they’d been able to hold on for so long while suffering such tremendous harassment and abuse. I wondered how Marty and I were going to make it. Would we end up like Taylor and Mark, dead by our own hands because the world was just too cruel? I hoped Marty had made it to school safely. Both of us were taking a considerable risk every time we stepped out our front doors. Our lives were a daily crapshoot, at best. This morning, I’d lost. “Who did this to you?” asked Zoë, as soon as class had ended. “Jimmy Kerstadd,” I said. “Way to go, Jimmy!” said Dan Paulik as he walked by. “Shut up, Daniel,” said Zoë, then turned to me. “I’m going to give Jimmy a piece of my mind.” “Don’t, you’ll just make it worse.” Zoë escorted me to my next class, and I wasn’t molested on the way. They were all staring at me—my classmates, that is. They were gawking at the freak show, the school fag. When my path crossed Marty’s later in the day he was sporting a black eye. I didn’t even have to ask before he told me how he’d got it. “Anthony Gentry decked me in the restroom,” he said. “He accused me of checking him out, which is bullshit. Zoë told me what happened to you. I’m sorry, Sean.” “I’m sorry I got you into this.” “We were both there, Sean. It takes two, you know?” “Yeah, but it was my evil little brother who outed us.” “We can’t change what’s happened. We’re in this together; remember that, Sean.” “Oh, how sweet,” said one of the football creeps as he passed. “I think they’re gonna kiss.” “I think I’m gonna puke,” said his friend. “I just want to die,” I said. “Don’t let them get to you, Sean. That’s what they want.” “I know, but it’s hard.”

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“I know it is, Sean, but we’ve got to hang in there. Pizza last night with Zoë and the girls was a blast, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, that Violet is a riot.” We didn’t have long to talk because we were between classes, but touching base with Marty made me feel a bit more secure. Oh, how I loved him! I knew my only chance of escaping this mess, other than suicide, was for someone to put things back the way they were. That meant losing Marty all over again, and I didn’t know if I could handle it. It was hell the first time, and I just couldn’t face the prospect again. My life was hell now, but at least I had Marty, and that made the difference. As bad as things were, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back. My heart yearned for Nick, however. I missed him so badly it hurt. I was torn, not only between two realities, but between two loves. Who would’ve thought that I, plain old Sean, would be lucky enough to have two wonderful boys love him with all their heart? Marty and I made straight for Zoë’s table at lunch. It was our new home, and we were welcome there, unlike pretty much everywhere else in school. We drew sneers and nasty comments for sitting with them, but it mattered little since we’d be on the receiving end of abuse no matter what we did. At least we could sit among friends, and the girls discouraged everyone from giving us crap while we sat with them. I wondered about Ken and Tony Paulik and all the other gay boys out there. What did they think of the treatment we were receiving? Did it frighten them and encourage them to bury themselves more deeply in the closet? I couldn’t be sure who was gay in this reality, of course, but I was reasonably sure that Ken was, at least. It was sad to see him cowed. The Ken from my reality would’ve kicked his ass for it. I think the Ken from my reality would have chosen the end he came to over a life of living in fear. At least he’d gone down fighting. Marty and I weren’t going to go down fighting. There was bravery, then there was stupidity. It was no wonder Ken was totally different in this timeline. How could he not have been? I didn’t blame him one bit, but it was sad to see. I hoped he remained in hiding. It was open season on any gay boy. Having others suffer alongside us wouldn’t help Marty and me at all. My day passed in torment. Insults were hurled at me. I was tripped, shoved, and punched. After lunch, I returned to my locker to find most of the graffiti gone, but it could still be read. When I opened the door I found more notes calling me various names and a couple threatening to kill me. It sent a shiver up my spine, but none of it was a surprise.

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When I returned to my locker again at the end of school, I discovered that someone had taken a magic marker and written, “For a good blowjob, call Sean, any time, day or night.” My phone number had been written down, too. I hoped no one called my home and harassed my parents. I opened my locker, expecting yet more notes, but discovered that someone had figured out how to pour what looked like honey through the grill. Thankfully, I kept all my books up top and the sticky stuff was mainly on the inside of the door and the bottom of my locker. All that had been ruined was a magazine and a notebook I no longer used. It looked like a few nasty notes had been swallowed in the sticky mess as well, but what did I care? I slammed my locker shut without even commenting on it to Zoë and Marty, who’d met me to take me home. The three of us decided to go out again, to Café Moffatt this time. The walk there was mostly pleasant. I even held Marty’s hand. Some boys drove by and called out “faggots.” They also chucked a half-full soda can at us, but missed by a mile. After the beating I’d received that morning, being called names by jerks with poor aim didn’t seem all that bad. We took a seat in a booth in Café Moffatt, trying to ignore the stares. Well, Marty and I tried to ignore them. “What are you looking at?” asked Zoë loudly when a couple of older ladies gawked at us and whispered. They quickly knocked it off. “I wish you’d been there this morning, Zoë. You could have probably kicked Jimmy’s butt.” “I was thinking that someone should always be with both of you,” said Zoë. “Maybe I could get with the girls, and we could come up with a schedule.” “Zoë, we appreciate the thought, but how can you girls escort us everywhere for the rest of high school? It isn’t practical,” I said. “Besides, you do have lives, and you can’t spend them babysitting us.” “We can at least try.” “Zoë, if someone wants to get Sean or me, they’ll do it sooner or later,” pointed out Marty. That was the grim reality of our situation. We couldn’t hide or walk around under guard all the time. If someone was determined to kick our butts, they’d find a way. Despite our protests, Zoë was determined to try and protect us. It wouldn’t hurt to let her try, so we said nothing more. “I feel like breakfast,” I said, when our waitress arrived. “I’ll have banana nut pancakes, bacon, and…hash browns. Oh, and a glass of iced tea.”

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“That sounds good,” said Marty. “I’ll have the same.” “I think I’d like a cheeseburger and fries,” said Zoë, “with a Diet Coke.” “You don’t feel like breakfast for supper?” asked Marty. “Not this evening.” “I love pancakes!” said Marty. “I could eat them for every meal.” “Me, too,” I announced. “You’re the perfect couple,” said Zoë. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or being a bit sarcastic. I remembered that either Taylor or Mark had written about islands of happiness in a sea of troubles. I knew just what they meant. My world had turned into a sea of troubles, but at the moment I was sitting on an island of happiness with Marty and Zoë. Like Mark and Taylor, maybe Marty and I could live for moments like this, if someone didn’t beat us to death, that is. We actually laughed and joked around as we sat there. Our food arrived, and the scent of bacon and hot maple syrup mingled with that of Zoë’s burger and fries. I was with my boyfriend and my best friend. What could have been better? I considered for a moment if I’d be willing to give up Marty if all my troubles would go away. That wasn’t an option, of course, but I knew I would not let Marty out of my life, even if it meant all the harassment and abuse hurled at me would stop. I loved him too much for that. If he wasn’t in my life, it just wouldn’t matter. I understood completely for the first time why Mark had taken his own life after he lost Taylor. We tarried over our pancakes. Neither Marty nor I was in a hurry to depart. I wished I could be alone with him. It seemed as if it had been forever since we’d made love. My house was out of the question, however, and so was his. I would have considered Graymoor, but it was a true wreck. The more I heard about my old home the more I realized I was lucky to make it out alive. The reputation of Graymoor where I came from was nothing compared to the horrors I’d heard of here. The weather was already beginning to warm, and soon we could be together outside. I’d have to think of a suitably private spot. The Selby Farm briefly presented itself as a possibility in my mind, but there were too many memories of Nick there. I’d feel like I was being disrespectful to his memory. “Maybe we should just run away,” I said, thinking out loud. “The thought has crossed my mind, but where would we go and what would we do?” asked Marty. “I don’t know. I’ve never minded being sixteen before, but now I wish I was older, out of school, and capable of getting a real job. We could go away together,

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then get our own place and have a real life. There has to be some place better than this.” “It’s a nice dream, isn’t it?” said Marty. “Someday it will come true, for both of you,” said Zoë. “I hope so,” I said, “but when? I’m not even sure if I’ll survive today or tomorrow; it’s kind of hard to look farther into the future.” “Yeah,” said Marty, “it would be wonderful to live in a better place, but I don’t think we’ll make it that far. I’m glad we’re together, though, Sean. I love you, and this time, rough as it is, is the best time of my life. Whatever comes, we’ll share it together. We’ll live our lives until…they’re over.” Our meals were finished, but we ordered hot tea. It was as if none of us wanted our time together that evening to end. I grasped Marty’s hand across the table more than once, and Zoë smiled at us both. When none of us could hold a cup of tea anymore, we departed. Zoë and I walked Marty home. Just a little before we got there, we stopped and Marty and I kissed. If I could have frozen time and stayed in that moment forever, I would have. Zoë walked me home after we dropped off Marty. My mother was watching us out the window, and we kissed for her benefit. Zoë giggled. “I miss the straight, blond Sean, but you know, I think I like you best,” she said. I grinned.

SKYE—JANUARY 1998 Nothing much happened for the next couple of weeks. Josh and I continued to be hostile toward each other at school, professional at work, and friendly in front of my mom. Jimmy had learned his lesson and openly deferred to me. I heard plenty of our classmates talking in hushed voices about how Jimmy was now my bitch. They didn’t know the true extent of it, of course, nor the real reason I controlled him, but no one dared fuck with me. If I could take down Jimmy Kerstadd, I could take down anyone. I don’t know if Jimmy overheard any of the talk about him being my bitch. I’m sure no one had the balls to say it to his face. He bowed down to me, but to no one else. I pitied the fools who taunted him about it. They’d get the crap beat out of them for sure. I did it with a girl now and then to preserve my reputation, but I didn’t need them for sex anymore. I got plenty from Jimmy. He had no idea how badly I wanted to go down on him or just how much I wanted to run my hands and tongue all over his smooth, firm body. I wasn’t about to let him know I was attracted to him. Things change, and I wasn’t taking any chances. If my control over Jimmy slipped, I wanted him to think I’d used him, but not that I was actually attracted to him. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I was beginning to get just a bit bored with Jimmy. I don’t mean that I didn’t enjoy my nights with him. What’s not to enjoy about sex? I just mean that I began to yearn for something a bit different. My thoughts turned to Greg. He wasn’t as built as Jimmy, but he had some obvious assets, not the least of which was between his legs. I gave Jimmy the night off and told Greg to meet me at The Ab Crunch just before closing. Greg had been keeping his distance from me ever since the night I’d captured him with Jimmy on video tape. I’d left him alone since the incident with Landon, and he’d had plenty of time to recuperate. I’d known I couldn’t push Greg too far with nothing more than steroid use to hold over his head. He - 370 -

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had no plans for a football scholarship or the NFL, after all. The video tape put him firmly under my thumb, however. There was no need to crush him as I’d done Jimmy, but Greg still had his uses, and I intended to begin using him. Greg nervously complied when I told him to strip. He reluctantly got on his knees when told to do so. He tried to plead his way out of giving me head, but in the end he submitted, just as I knew he would. He was lousy. I don’t know if it was because he was doing it wrong on purpose or just because he didn’t know what he was doing. My guess was the latter. Regardless, he left me unsatisfied, so I decided to move right on to the next step. Greg balked. No matter how much I threatened him, he wouldn’t submit his anal virginity to me. It created a dilemma for me I hadn’t anticipated. I had no reservations about showing the tape as far as Greg was concerned, but I wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up my hold over Jimmy. Releasing the tape would destroy them both, but it would also open me up to retaliation. I wasn’t nearly as worried about that as I was the other possibility. What if Jimmy somehow managed to beat me out for the quarterback spot the next season? True, his popularity would plummet, but quarterback wasn’t an elected position. It was all up to Coach. I doubted Coach would want a faggot quarterback, but who knew? I could lose what I wanted most of all. I thought I might be able to edit the tape carefully enough to expose Greg and not Jimmy, but I wasn’t sure. Questions were sure to be raised about the other guy in the tape, of course, and I was afraid Jimmy might be recognized just from his build. Abs like his were so rare I feared a lot of guys might know who it was without seeing anything more. The solution to my dilemma quickly presented itself. I was considerably stronger than Greg. There were more ways to get what I wanted from him than blackmail. I grabbed Greg and wrestled him down to the floor. He fought like mad, but it didn’t take me long to get him trapped beneath me. I forced his legs apart, then I took him. I’d thought I had experienced the ultimate power rush in forcing Jimmy to submit, but it was nothing compared to taking Greg by physical force. It was such an intense experience that it took me no time at all to finish, which was unfortunate because I enjoyed it more than I’d ever enjoyed anything. When Greg stood, he was infuriated and frightened. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to attack me but was far too afraid to do so. He knew he couldn’t take me. “Next time don’t fight it so hard,” I said. “It’ll hurt less if you just submit.”

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Greg glared at me with true hatred. I was glad I had the video tape to hold over his head. The threat of showing it hadn’t been enough to make him submit, but it would be enough to keep him from trying to retaliate for what I’d done to him. We dressed, and I let him out, then walked home. A part of me realized I should have felt guilty for what I’d just done to Greg. There seemed little difference between extortion and the act I’d just committed, but I had crossed over the line to rape. I hadn’t thought of it in those terms while I was actually doing it, but as I walked home it hit me: I’d raped Greg. Maybe I wouldn’t have done it if I’d thought about it in advance, but I hadn’t expected Greg to refuse me. After all, having that video tape shown was about the worst fate I could imagine for him. In any case, what was done was done, and I was reasonably sure he’d submit more willingly the next time. Part of me almost wished he’d fight it again, but surely he wouldn’t. He knew the conclusion was inevitable. If I wanted him, I’d have him. Resistance was pointless. Greg was nowhere to be found the next day, which upset my plans for him that night. I wondered if he was truly sick or merely hiding from me. He couldn’t stay home forever, though. He was only postponing the inevitable. I could wait. Besides, I still had Jimmy, and he’d stand in nicely until I got another crack at Greg.

TAYLOR—DECEMBER 1980 “We both found jobs,” said Mark. “It’s only for a couple of weeks, through Christmas, but I’ll be wrapping gifts for customer service, and Marshall is, get this, going to be one of Santa’s elves.” I laughed. “I’d pay to see that!” “The only problem, other than the job being temporary, is that it’s a long, long walk. We can take the bus, though. It doesn’t cost that much.” “That’s great, Mark!” I said, wrapping my arms around him to give him a hug. I knew how Mark hated having to depend on me for money. I didn’t mind providing for us one bit, but I understood how he felt. I would have felt the same if Mark had a job and I didn’t. Mark’s temporary employment gave me one less thing to worry about, and it was a good thing, because a new problem reared its ugly head. Since the beginning, I’d had paternal feelings for Chandler. Pretty much everyone treated him like their kid in a way. I was quick to hug him and give his hair a tousle. He liked to be tickled, so I did that a lot, too. Quite often he jumped into my arms and even gave me a kiss on the cheek. All that was well and good, but Chandler had steadily been getting more physical with me, hugging me tighter and longer. What’s more, when he did so I could tell he was aroused. He’d also taken to kissing me not on the cheek, but on the lips. Only the evening before he’d tried to slip his tongue into my mouth. He’d played it off as a joke, but I knew it wasn’t, and it worried me. I was concerned on multiple levels. Chandler was obviously attracted to me, but nothing could come of it. Even if I didn’t belong to Mark and had returned Chandler’s interest, he was just thirteen years old. I was no pedophile. Mark was my man, and I had no interest in Chandler physically. I realized I might well be Chandler’s first crush, and I didn’t want to hurt him, yet I couldn’t encourage

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him. He was pursuing me more and more aggressively, and I had to do something to put an end to it. I guess I should have taken him aside and had a talk with him, but a part of me hoped the problem would just go away. It didn’t. The very next day it intensified. Chandler waited until we were alone in the village and called to me from outside the box I shared with Mark. “Taylor, can I come in?” I’d been napping, resting up from my day at the café, but I’d just awakened. Had I been a bit more lucid, I would’ve had the sense to go out to Chandler, rather than invite him in. I was still lying down, covered up, sitting up on my elbows when Chandler crawled into the box with me. He immediately climbed under the blankets and snuggled up against me. I petted his hair. There was nothing wrong in that, but it didn’t end there. Chandler soon climbed on top of me and looked into my eyes. I feared what he was about to do. He closed in on me, pressed his lips to mine and kissed me. Once again, he tried to get his tongue in my mouth as he pressed his body hard against me. “Chandler, no,” I said firmly. I pushed him off me and sat up. “We’ve got to talk.” He didn’t look happy as he sat up. “Listen, I really like you, Chandler, but what you’re trying to do is wrong. I’m not interested in you like that. I have a boyfriend. I love him. We’re committed to each other.” Tears welled up in Chandler’s eyes. “I’m not angry with you, Chandler, but this has got to stop.” “Can’t you love us both?” he asked desperately. “I do love you both, but I don’t love you like that, Chandler. The love I have for you is different. It’s just as good, but it’s different.” It was not what Chandler wanted to hear. He began to cry softly. “Please, Taylor, you don’t have to do anything for me. I just want to…” “No, Chandler. No. I love Mark, and even if Mark wasn’t in my life, you’re too young. It’s wrong. I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. I care far too much for you to do something like that.” “But you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me! I want it! I want it so bad, Taylor!” “I’m sorry, but let me make myself perfectly clear. Nothing can happen between us, Chandler. I love you, but you can’t keep trying to kiss me on the lips. From now on, we kiss on the cheeks only, understand? When we hug, you can’t press into me like you just did. It’s not appropriate.”

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“I hate Mark!” “Chandler, don’t say that. You know you don’t hate him. He loves you, just like I do.” “I do hate him! I hate him and I hate you!” Chandler quickly scooted out of the box and ran away crying. I considered following him, but I knew he needed time alone. I wondered if I could have handled the situation better. That’s when everything started to go bad, the evening I had my talk with Chandler. It grew late and there was no sign of him. I kept an eye out for him, but he still hadn’t returned when I climbed into bed beside Mark. I was worried, but not overly so, for most of the tribe, Chandler included, kept nighttime hours. Mark, Marshall, and I alone were regularly awake in the daytime. Most of the others slept until mid-afternoon or even into the evening. I rarely saw any of them until my day’s work was done. They were creatures of the night. The next morning, I peeked into the tent Chandler shared with his brother. Chase was snoozing, dead to the world, but there was no sign of Chandler. I began at that moment to get truly worried. On the way to Denny’s, I told Mark and Marshall what had happened the evening before. “After breakfast, Marshall and I will check some of his usual haunts,” said Mark. “Chandler is probably just hiding out somewhere for a while. We don’t have to be at work until eleven, so we’ll have some time to look for him before we go. If we don’t find him, I’ll tell the others and they can keep looking.” “What if he’s run away?” I asked. “I know I said the wrong things!” “Tay, listen, I’m sure you handled a difficult situation as well as you could. This isn’t your fault. Don’t worry, we’ll find him, or he’ll turn up soon. He’s not just going to run away. He’s not going to leave his brother just because he’s mad at you right now. He’ll cool off and he’ll be back. He’ll probably be home before you finish work today, okay?” “Yeah, you’re probably right, but I’m worried about him. He’s a little kid in a big city.” “Taylor, that little kid knows how to handle himself in the city. He’s more street smart than we are.” “I’m sure that’s true,” said Marshall. We pushed open the door to Denny’s, and the delicious aroma of pancakes and bacon made me momentarily forget my troubles. Mark was most likely right. Chandler would be back by the time I returned from the café. Chandler wasn’t back by then, though, not that day, nor the next, nor the next. We all hunted for him. Chase and the others suspended their nocturnal

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activities to comb our neighborhood for him, but there was no sigh of him anywhere. It was as if he’d just disappeared. Todd checked the newspapers, reading through the obituaries and looking for any mention of a runaway turning up. We called the hospitals and even anonymously called the police asking if a boy of Chandler’s description had been found. He’d vanished without a trace. Chase was worried sick; all of us were. I drowned in guilt. I knew I could have handled the situation better. If I’d been smart enough to say the right thing, then maybe Chandler wouldn’t be missing. Chase grew sullen and angry. He constantly eyed Mark and me with suspicion. He could sense my guilt, I just knew it, so I avoided him. It only served to make matters worse. Late one evening, Chase paced back and forth in front of his tent. Mark and I were sitting together nearby, and Ike and Todd were sitting there, too. Suddenly, Chase marched over to Mark and me and stared down at us. “I want to know exactly what happened the evening my brother disappeared,” he demanded. “I told you,” I said. “He got upset and left.” “You didn’t tell me why he got upset. Whenever anyone brings it up, you conveniently skirt the issue. You fags did something to him, didn’t you?” “No,” said Mark. “If I find out either one of you fags laid a hand on him, I’ll fucking kill you!” Mark stood up, and so did I. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting,” said Mark. “Well, you’re homos aren’t you? Everyone knows fags molest boys.” “Hey, that’s not cool,” said Ike. Both he and Todd had stood and were gawking incredulously at Chase. “You stay out of this, Ike! You too, Todd! This is between me and the child molesters.” I saw the danger signs in Mark’s eyes. I could read the tension in his body. He was seconds away from hurling himself into Chase. “We didn’t touch him,” I said. “You know we didn’t. Listen, I know you’re worried about your brother. We all are. We all care about him, but that’s no excuse to start accusing us of something you know we wouldn’t do!” “How do I know you didn’t do it, Taylor? We’ve known each other what, a few weeks? There’s a whole lot I don’t know about you. For all I know, you guys have done something like this before. Maybe that’s why you’re on the run.”

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“All right!” I said. “You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened! Your little brother was coming onto me. He was coming onto me, and I told him it had to stop.” “You take that back right now!” snarled Chase. “I can’t take it back because it’s the truth! I didn’t want to tell you because it’s Chandler’s business, not yours! I told him nothing could happen between us. He got upset. He told me he hated me and he ran off! I thought he’d come back, but he hasn’t. If you want to blame this on me, go ahead. I’m guilty! But don’t accuse me of laying a hand on that boy, because I didn’t!” “You fucking child molester,” growled Chase. He sprang toward me, but Mark plowed into him from the side and took him down. Chase came up fighting and punched Mark in the face. I hurled myself at Chase, furious at what he’d said to me and more angry still that he’d hit Mark. Chase was a tough fighter and landed a blow to my midsection that knocked the breath out of me. Mark decked him, however, and I was soon back in the fight. Todd and Ike stood near, not sure what to do. I clocked Chase in the jaw, and he went down. Chase was tougher than either Mark or I was, but there were two of us and just one of him. Soon Chase was fending off the blows instead of trying to defend himself. When he covered his face with his arms, Mark and I stopped and backed away. Chase pulled himself up, eyeing us resentfully. I thought for a moment he was going to launch himself at us again, but apparently he thought better of the idea. “It’s your fault my brother is gone! He’s probably dead because of you! I won’t forget this, you faggots!” said Chase as he limped away. I knew we’d just made an enemy we didn’t deserve. “Are you okay?” I asked Mark. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing his cheek. “You?” “I’ve been through worse.” That was sure the truth. “You guys had better watch your backs,” said Todd. “Chase is dangerous when he’s angry. You never know what he might do.” I felt like I was about to cry. Chase’s parting words had struck home. “He’s right, you know. It’s my fault Chandler’s gone.” “That’s not true, Taylor,” said Mark. “Isn’t it? I knew he was upset. I could have gone after him right then, but I didn’t. I just let him go, and now he’s missing. For all we know, he’s dead.” “Tay, even if something bad did happen to Chandler, you can’t blame yourself. He chose to run away. Chandler runs all over the place, usually at night. He

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was doing it long before we came into the picture, Taylor. Yeah, he ran off after what happened between you two, but that was his choice.” “I keep thinking I could have handled it better.” “How could you have done that? We’ve been through this, Taylor. The bottom line is that he got upset because you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. What could you have done differently? Yeah, you could’ve committed a felony by having sex with a minor and ruined our relationship at the same time. Chandler would probably still be here if you’d done that. That’s what Chandler wanted you to do, and he was wrong for even asking.” “He was just a kid, Mark. He wasn’t thinking about the consequences. He just knew what he wanted and tried to get it.” “I know that, Taylor, but the point is there’s nothing you could have done to change the situation. No matter how you did it, you had to tell him no. It made him angry and upset, and he ran off. That was his choice and as for not going after him, I wouldn’t have, either. I would’ve let him go because I would have thought he needed the time alone to think. There’s nothing you could have done to have prevented this, Taylor, nothing.” “I just wish I knew he was okay,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “He’ll be okay,” said Ike, putting his hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” said Todd, “I know you didn’t do what Chase said. I think deep down he knows it, too. He’s hurting right now. He probably feels guilty, and he just needs someone to blame. Chandler is all he’s got.” I smiled at Todd and nodded. ✶

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Christmas was upon us, but I didn’t feel like celebrating. How could I be happy when Chandler was missing? I kept thinking of him out there alone in the city somewhere, cold and hungry. The scary part was that Chandler being alone, cold, and hungry was probably the best-case scenario. I didn’t even believe it. Chandler was upset when he’d left, but he should have calmed down and returned within a few hours. Where else did he have to go? The tribe was his family, the village his home; his brother was there. Chandler would have returned if he could have. Something had happened, something horrible; I just knew it. I walked alone toward The Hanson Café in the falling snow. The signs of Christmas were everywhere, but the joy of the season had been sucked out, at least for me. Mark did his best to keep me cheered up, of course, but he was wor-

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ried about Chandler, too. We all were. Chase hadn’t attacked Mark or me again, but he was sullen and refused to speak to either of us. If tragedy hadn’t struck, we would’ve been doing well. Mark, Marshall, and I were all working. The rest of the tribe was bringing in something, too, especially Chase. Our one problem, other than the disappearance of Chandler, was the cold. It was uncomfortably cold at best in the daytime, and the nighttime temperatures were becoming increasingly bitter. Mark and I often couldn’t sleep. Even huddled together under our blankets, we shivered. I never felt warm, except during our morning breakfast ritual at Denny’s and when I was at work. The warmth of the café enveloped me like a fuzzy blanket as I entered it. Christmas music was playing, and our Christmas tree with its beautiful decorations and twinkling lights stood in the corner. My heart grew lighter despite myself. I tried to forgive myself for what had happened to Chandler. I knew in my heart it wasn’t my fault he was gone, but still it wasn’t easy to let go of the guilt. I knew Mark worried about me, so I tried to be happy. My job in The Hanson Café helped. I had a few hours of warmth and activity ahead of me as well as a delicious meal, so I put a smile on my face and began to wait on the customers. My smile was soon genuine. I’d become acquainted with most of the regulars and looked forward to seeing them each day. Hugh said business had picked up considerably since I started. The place did seem busier. Hugh even asked me to work longer hours to draw in the crowd. I was amused by the idea that guys would eat in the café just because I was waiting tables. It made me feel a bit like some kind of star. I was worried at first that I’d be cutting into Evan’s hours, but Hugh said not to worry about that. Evan would get just as many hours as before, and now he’d have me to help him with the tables. With the larger crowds there was more work, so Evan was more than glad to have me around. He told me he was making more on tips with the increased business, too. I was doing well myself, and I think I was bringing in more than Chase. I wished he could have a job like mine so he wouldn’t have to work the streets. I’d grown accustomed to moving about the café in my too-tight shirts. At first I’d felt rather self conscious and a bit foolish, too, but Evan was right: My tips had increased considerably once I started buying my shirts a couple of sizes too small. I had enough shirts to wear a different one every day of the week—mostly muscle shirts, but a couple of revealing short-sleeved shirts, too. It was a good thing Hugh kept the café so warm, or I would’ve been freezing.

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I was not eager to go back out into the cold after work. I bundled up, covering every inch of skin except my face. I’d purchased warm wooly gloves, a red scarf, and a toboggan, too. They, along with my leather jacket, were my prized possessions in the cold. I filled a large Styrofoam cup with hot chocolate, bid Hugh, Evan, and the customers goodbye, and stepped out into the winter wonderland of Indy. It was early evening, and already it was getting dark. The icy wind did its best to penetrate my garments and partly succeeded. Was it my imagination or was it growing colder? I returned to the village to find Mason, Ike, Eduardo, and most of the others getting ready to depart for a shelter. “The temperature may hit the teens tonight,” said Todd. “We’re all going to the shelter, except for Chase; he’ll be working. You guys wanna come with?” Mark was standing near, and we looked at each other, but knew we couldn’t. “No, you guys go ahead, we’ll be okay.” I wasn’t sure about that. I thought it likely that we’d freeze to death during the night. It’d never been so cold! “How ’bout you, Marshall?” asked Todd. “I’ll stay with Taylor and Mark.” “No, Marshall, you should go, too,” said Mark. “There’s no reason for you to stay here.” “No, I’m not leaving you.” “If you’re sure then,” said Todd. “You know where the shelter is if you change your minds, but don’t get there too late or there won’t be any spots left.” All but Mark, Marshall, Chase, and I departed. “We’re going to freeze our nuts off tonight,” said Mark. “I really think you should go to the shelter, Marshall.” “No.” “Why don’t you sleep with us, then? It’ll be warmer,” I suggested. “Watch out, Marshall,” said Chase, “it sounds like they’re setting you up for ass rape.” “Shut up, Chase!” said Marshall. He turned to us. “Yeah, I’ll sleep with you guys, anything to keep warm.” “Don’t come crying to me when you wake up with a dick up your ass,” said Chase, laughing. “Fuck off,” said Marshall. Mark and I said nothing. We weren’t going to let Chase get to us. Since our one fight he hadn’t gone for us again, but he was always ready with the innuen-

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dos. With Chase, there was always anger bubbling just under the surface, and now it was directed toward us. Disappointed that he couldn’t get a rise out of us, Chase left for his street corner. “Oh, God, it’s cold!” I said. “Yeah, that’s the only bad thing about working in the mall,” said Marshall. “I get used to being warm; then when I come back out, it’s ten times worse.” “I’d rather have those hours of warmth, though,” said Mark. “How about supper?” I asked. “Let’s eat, get ourselves warmed up, then come back and get into bed.” “Denny’s?” suggested Marshall. “Yeah,” said Mark. “It’s as cheap as Burger King, we get more food, and we can eat slowly and hang out longer.” Huddled against the cold, we made our way to our favorite restaurant. Once we were sitting in our booth, I pulled off my toboggan and gloves and rubbed my face. “I can’t feel my cheeks,” I said. “The usual?” asked our waitress, Blanche. “You know us so well,” said Mark smiling. “Yeah, the usual. Right, guys?” He looked around the table for confirmation, and Marshall and I both nodded. We watched the snow swirling around outside. It was a lot more comfortable looking out at it from inside a warm restaurant than it was walking in it. When I lived in Verona, falling snow had always made me feel all comfy, but that was before I took up residence in a cardboard box. It was beautiful still, but I yearned for the warmth of summer. Denny’s wasn’t as beautifully decorated as The Hanson Café, but I still enjoyed the holiday spirit made evident by the paper decorations, the Christmas music, tinsel, blinking lights, and the gaily decorated tree by the cash register. Mark, Marshall, and I had agreed to severely limit our holiday spending. Being homeless, we didn’t have room for much, and our money was better saved for food. We were getting each other one gift, not to exceed three dollars in cost. The rest of our Christmas would be in the form of edibles. We planned to splurge a bit on Christmas cookies and candy and a nice Christmas dinner for ourselves and all the others. I was truly thankful that we were doing well enough we could afford it. We could just as easily have been stuck with peanut butter and crackers or nothing at all. Our supper was delicious, and we wasted nothing. I wished we could stay there all night, but sooner or later we had to head back out into the cold. We opted for later and lingered until we began to get sleepy.

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Marshall gathered his blankets and joined us in our box. We snuggled in together; Mark and Marshall on the outside with me in the middle. It was bitterly cold, but our shared body heat was warm under the covers. “I’m so glad I’m in the middle,” I said. “Sounds kinky,” said Marshall, giggling. “You know what I mean!” “So, this is what it’s like to sleep with two gay boys.” “Exciting, huh?” asked Mark. “It sure beats sleeping alone and being cold,” said Marshall. “Well, you’re welcome to join us every night,” I said. “You, your blankets, and your warmth.” “Mmm, a nightly three-way; that’s for me! Good night, guys,” yawned Marshall. “Good night.” Mark leaned over and gave me a light kiss. I smiled and began to drift off into sleep. ✶

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The Hanson Café was going to be closed on Christmas Day, so the tribe had our celebration on the night before Christmas. Mark, Marshall, and I were treating the rest of the tribe to dinner and dessert, with a few extra goodies thrown in as our Christmas gift to them. Only Chase and Chandler were missing—Chandler because he was truly still missing and Chase because he refused our invitation. He quite bluntly stated he wouldn’t eat with “the fags.” The café closed at eight on Christmas Eve, and that was the scheduled meeting time for the tribe. Hugh thought it would be easier to handle the extra crowd after hours, and we could also have the whole place to ourselves. Hugh, Evan, and Ben would be joining us. I considered them friends, even family. I had expected to split the cost of the evening with Mark and Marshall, aided by a generous discount from Hugh, but not long before closing, Hugh said it was all on him, a Christmas bonus for pulling in so much new business. I hugged and thanked him. The Christmas special of the café was turkey and dressing with all the fixings, and Hugh had made sure to save enough back for the tribe. Unknown to me, he and Ben had prepared Christmas cup cakes and a selection of candies. The candy canes and store-bought Christmas candies Mark, Marshall, and I had purchased paled by comparison, but I was sure none of them would go to waste.

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Everyone had brought what small gifts they could afford and placed them under what we’d all come to think of as our tree. Ike and Mason were the last of the tribe to arrive. As soon as they were inside, Hugh locked up and put a “Closed For Private Party” sign on the door. The Christmas music was already playing, and the decorations were in place. All was ready for our Christmas celebration. “If everyone will have a seat, supper is ready to be served,” announced Hugh to cheers from all. Hugh, Evan, Ben, and I carried out platters of turkey and bowls of dressing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. This was not the usual café fare, but a special Christmas menu. In addition there were freshly baked yeast rolls and cinnamon-honey butter to spread on them as well as blackberry and strawberry jams. For dessert there was to be cherry cheesecake, chocolate cake, a beautifully decorated Christmas cake with white icing, and decorated cupcakes galore. Hugh also set out divinity, chocolate and peanut butter fudge, the famous Hanson Café cookies, maple treats, and more other kinds of delectable candies than I could name. There was hot cocoa and a special Christmas punch as well as all the usual drinks to go with supper. We set upon the turkey and fixings first, while eyeing the desserts. The wind was howling outside, the snow swirling, but we were all safe and warm for a few hours and had more food to eat than most of the tribe had ever seen. I remembered how I took food for granted as a kid. Our Christmas Eve dinner was only a preamble to the gifts that would come the next morning. I never appreciated what I had back then. Oh, I enjoyed our family Christmas Eve dinners but didn’t give them a great deal of thought. Like breakfast, lunch, and supper everyday, they were just something that was there. Things had been going better for our tribe of late, but there had been times when we didn’t know where our next meal was coming from. We still lived on the edge. If I lost my job or some other tragedy occurred, we’d be back to being hungry. It was a frightening thought. It was with supreme difficulty that I saved some room for dessert. I created myself what I called “a dessert sampler platter,” taking just a little of everything. It was all so very tasty! I stood beside Mark, who was sampling the divinity and fudge. Together, we watched the rest of the tribe. They were smiling and laughing as they rarely did. Marshall was grinning and cracking jokes with Mason, and all the others were chatting away. Hugh, Evan, and Ben were not left out. Ike proclaimed them honorary tribe members.

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My eyes fell on our tree and on the angel at the top. I remembered Chandler on my shoulders, placing it there. “Tay, what’s wrong?” asked Mark. “I was just thinking of Chandler,” I said, trying not to cry. I wiped away the tears. I wasn’t about to ruin Christmas for everyone by making a scene. Mark took my hand and squeezed it, then gave me a hug. “I love you,” he whispered and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I love you too, Babe. Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas, Taylor.”

SKYE—FEBRUARY 1998 I began to lock the door to The Ab Crunch when I felt something hard poke into my back. “Leave it unlocked, Skye, I’m expecting company,” said Jimmy. I wondered if he really had a gun or if he was just poking a length of pipe or something into my back. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Jimmy. Just what do you hope to accomplish?” “You’re the one who’s been playing a dangerous game, Skye, and tonight it ends. Now turn around—slowly.” I heard Jimmy take a few steps back. I did as I was told. The gun was real, all right. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was a .357. “If I shoot you with this, Skye, you won’t be getting back up. This thing can turn a concrete block into dust. Just imagine what it can do to your chest.” I swallowed hard. I wondered what Jimmy was playing at. There was no way he was willing to sacrifice his entire future just to get rid of me. Maybe he thought he could frighten me into letting go of the control I had over him. If that’s what he thought, he was dead wrong. “Now, turn out the lights,” ordered Jimmy. I did as I was told while I considered my options. I heard the door open and turned. Greg stepped in, and so did Josh. I was truly confused and more frightened than ever. I still had the upper hand, however. I was outnumbered three to one and Jimmy had a gun, but I was still more powerful than all of them put together. “Do you three losers want to tell me what this is all about?” I asked. Before I knew what had happened, Jimmy had smashed me in the face with the gun. I began to lunge toward him, but he leveled the pistol at me. “Don’t make me shoot you, Skye. It would ruin the plans we have for you.” - 385 -

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“I don’t know what you have planned, but you know what happens if I disappear or end up dead.” “Oh yes, the sealed letters and the tapes,” said Jimmy. “Josh?” Josh took off his backpack. He dumped the contents on the counter near me. My eyes grew wide at the sight of five sealed envelopes and the same number of sealed packages, all addressed in my handwriting to various individuals, including Coach. “You shouldn’t have made so many enemies, Skye,” said Greg, with a look of smug satisfaction. I didn’t know how they’d managed to get their hands on the envelopes and tapes. I’d told no one who had them, not even the others holding the same packages for me. They’d done it, however. Somehow they’d obtained them all. “Aren’t you forgetting my own copies?” I asked. Josh pulled out not two, but three more packages. “Here you are, buddy,” said Josh, “your two personal copies and also the copy of the tape you keep in your dresser drawer to jerk off to, you fucking faggot.” My face blanched. I’d thought I’d been very clever in protecting myself, but somehow my efforts had failed. I realized I was in perilous danger. I had to think of something fast. Maybe there was yet a way to save my ass. “You look scared, Skye, that’s not a look I’ve seen on your face before,” said Jimmy. “Okay,” I said, “you’ve got the information and the tapes. I’m smart enough to see that the balance of power has shifted. I won’t bother you guys anymore.” It was lame, but I could think of nothing else to say. “You’re damn right you won’t!” yelled Jimmy. He turned to Josh. “Tie his arms behind his back.” “Jimmy, I don’t know what you have planned, but we can make a deal…” “You’re not in a position to make deals, Skye. Your sick little game is at an end, and now you’re going to pay.” I stepped away from Josh as he came toward me with the rope, but Jimmy quickly closed the distance between us and pointed the barrel of the pistol right between my eyes. “Feel familiar, Skye?” I was fighting not to shake. Memories of Landon flooded my mind—the way he’d held the gun to my forehead, the paralyzing fear that he’d pull the trigger. It was my nightmare revisited. I remember the image of Landon’s head exploding. I knew what would happen to me if Jimmy pulled the trigger. Before I knew it, my wrists were bound securely behind my back.

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Jimmy shoved the pistol into the front of his jeans, then slugged me in the face as hard as he could. My head snapped around so hard I thought he’d broken my neck. I struggled against my bonds, but Josh, an Eagle Scout, had tied them too securely. Jimmy grabbed the hair at the back of my head and jerked down hard. He brought his face to within inches of my own. “Now we’re going to take a little trip, Skye, and pay you back for what you did to us.” “Jimmy…” I began, but he punched me in the gut with all the force he could muster. I tightened my abdominal muscles, but it still hurt like hell. The second punch nearly knocked the wind out of me. “I’ll tell you when you can talk, bitch!” Jimmy grabbed me by the hair again and dragged me toward the door. He pulled the pistol back out and pressed it into my back. “You cry out for help, and I’ll kill you right here.” There was something in the tone of voice that let me know he meant it. I began to wonder if I was going to get out of this alive. I was unceremoniously shoved into the trunk of Josh’s car. The lid was slammed shut, and moments later the car began to move. I thought about screaming for help, but no one was going to hear me. I struggled against the ropes, but it was a futile effort. It wasn’t long at all before the car stopped. I heard the doors slam, then the trunk opened. Jimmy and Greg jerked me out of the car. We were behind the high school. “Hey, Skye,” said Greg. I turned my head toward him and he slugged me in the face. “That’s for making me suck dick!” He hit me again, harder. “And that’s for making my life a living hell for all these weeks!” He stood there, glaring at me, breathing hard. He had murder in his eyes. Jimmy put his hand on Greg’s chest and pushed him back. “Not here,” he said. Greg nodded, then leaned in close enough to my face that I could feel his hot breath. “Just wait until you see what I’m gonna do to you for raping me.” With that, I was shoved towards the forest path. Blood trickled from my nose and the side of my mouth. My jaw felt like it was broken and my gut ached. I never thought I’d find myself in such a situation. I’d thought it all out. It was all so carefully planned. What had gone wrong? The forest loomed before us, dark and menacing. My fear increased, causing my heart to race. I looked over at my former best friend, Josh, and he returned my gaze with hatred. He was wearing his backpack. I stopped.

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“Keep moving, faggot!” yelled Greg, punching me hard in the back. I fell to the ground in agony. They jerked me to my feet, practically pulling my arms out of the sockets. I actually considered pleading with them, but I knew I was fucked. They were going to beat me senseless, or worse. I wasn’t going to beg for mercy. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They led me far down the forest path, lighting the way with flashlights. Fog was rolling in, and the beams of their flashlights cut eerie shafts through the darkness. We cut off the path into the trees. Greg led the way, his passage sending limbs whipping into my face. I could feel welts rising. We didn’t travel far before we reached a small clearing. The moon escaped the clouds above and illuminated the low-lying fog. It was like a scene out of some horror movie. The only things missing were tombstones and eerie music. Jimmy, Greg, and Josh just stood there gazing at me for a few moments, perhaps trying to unnerve me, perhaps waiting for me to beg. I stood there trying to appear as calm as possible, but I was trembling slightly and on the inside felt abject terror. My arms were securely bound. I was helpless. “Don’t you have anything to say?” asked Jimmy. “Don’t you mean aren’t you going to beg for mercy? The answer is no.” “We’re gonna beat that arrogance out of you,” snarled Jimmy. “Why don’t you guys stop now before you get yourselves in real trouble,” I said. “That’s sounds a bit like begging to me,” said Greg. “You wish.” Greg viciously punched me in the abs. When I bent over from the pain, he kneed me in the face. My mouth opened in a silent scream, but I let no sound escape. “If you stop this now, I can forget the whole thing. We can all walk back, then tomorrow everything will be different. You’re got the tapes; you’re free now. I can’t touch you.” “You’re so generous, Skye,” said Jimmy. “You’re going to let us off without punishing us.” He actually laughed in my face. “First off, faggot,” he said yanking my hair so I was forced to look up into the sky, “there is no fucking way we’re letting you off that easy. Secondly, I think we all know that you would never just let this go. You’re so fucking cocky; you think you’re so superior that the first thing you’d do is seek revenge. All of us know what you’re capable of, Skye.” “You’re afraid of me,” I said, taunting him.

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Jimmy reach up and gripped my left pectoral muscle with his hand and squeezed hard. Tears flowed from my eyes. It was sheer agony. A small cry escaped from my lips. “You never learn, do you, faggot?” Jimmy shoved me roughly away, and I fell on my back, nearly snapping my wrists. Greg grabbed me by the front of the shirt and yanked me to my feet, ripping my shirt to shreds in the process. “This is for raping me, faggot!” he yelled. I could see his fist hurtling toward my face, but could do nothing to stop it. It connected; I felt the left side of my jaw snap. I screamed in agony. Greg’s next punch hit me in the chest, the next in my gut. He kneed me in the face again, then grabbed my nuts and squeezed with every ounce of force he could muster. I tried to hold it in, but I couldn’t. I screamed in pain. It was all a blur after that. Jimmy and Josh jumped on me, too. They all savagely beat me as if they’d gone insane. I cried out in pain, not even trying to hold it in anymore. They punched and kicked every inch of my body. I felt my ribs breaking. Blood flowed from my mouth and nose. They shouted obscenities at me as they beat me: faggot, bitch, whore, cocksucker, and more. My head swam with pain. I’d been in plenty of fights in my life and considered myself tough, but nothing had prepared me to withstand such a beating. My wrists were bound securely behind my back, but my strength was failing and even if I had managed to miraculously free myself, I wouldn’t have stood a chance against my attackers. All I could do was lie there and take it. Josh kicked me hard in the head. I saw stars and all went black.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 The next day at school, I was escorted from one class to the next by girls. Most of them I recognized as Zoë’s friends, but not all. Despite our protests, Zoë had obviously arranged bodyguards for Marty and me, and it looked as if she’d gone outside of her immediate circle of friends to accomplish the feat. Not once did any of the girls say they were there to escort me to my next class, but each time I stepped out of a room there was a girl waiting on me. Each of them walked by my side and chatted with me, never letting me out of her sight until she deposited me in my next classroom. I had to hand it to Zoë; she was doing her best to protect us. I knew Marty was receiving the same bodyguard treatment because every time I passed him in the hallway, he had a girl at his side, too. It boggled my mind that girls who didn’t even know us all that well would go to the trouble of protecting us. Each of them was nearly as aggressive as Zoë when it came to shooting down boys who tried to give us trouble. The female protection made my life a bit easier, and I needed all the help I could get. From the way most guys acted toward me, you would’ve thought I’d killed their mother or something. It astounded me that someone could hate me so much just because I was gay. I was relieved when I was once again safely at home at the end of the day. My home life was far from perfect: My father ignored me, my mother lived in a fantasy world of her own creation, and my little brother glared at me with contempt, but at least I wasn’t under the constant glare of dozens of hateful classmates. I sat down at the kitchen table, reveling in the peace and privacy. For the moment, I was alone, and there was no one to give me trouble, not even my own family. I was glad I was alone when my eyes fell on the front-page headline. I immediately burst into tears. We weren’t friends in this reality, but I couldn’t help the

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anguished sobs that escaped from my chest. I read the article as best I could through my tears.

THE VERONA CITIZEN—TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1998 LOCAL ATHLETE MURDERED -----------SECOND LYNCHING IN VERONA The body of Skye Mackenzie, aged 16, was found in the woods behind Verona High School last night by hunters. The cause of death had not been officially determined, but coroner, Dr. Albus Clark believes there is little doubt Mackenzie’s death was the result of lynching. “The body had been so disfigured by a severe beating that Mackenzie could have died from his injuries, but why hang someone after they’re dead?” asked Clark. Mackenzie was an extremely popular student and local football star. “As far as I know, Skye had no enemies. I can’t believe this happened. I’ll never get over it,” stated his longtime friend Josh Finn when asked for comment. Whatever the motive, Mackenzie’s killers were especially vicious. “In all my years of service, I’ve never seen a body beaten that badly,” stated Sheriff Krane. “Whoever did this was either certifiably insane or had unbelievable hatred for the victim. “Normally, it would have taken much longer to discover the identity of the body, but we’d received a call from Skye’s mother not an hour before his discovery. She asked us to be on the lookout for him, because he hadn’t returned from work and was hours late. The corpse fit the general description, but we ran a match on dental records, just in case. There’s no doubt about the identity of the victim.” As disturbing as this Verona lynching may be, it is not the first. “It was only a few months ago that another boy was found lynched,” stated the sheriff. “The other victim wasn’t beaten as severely, but he’d been worked over. No one deserves to die like that.”

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The previous victim was 14-year-old Oliver Twist, also of Verona. His body was found not fifty yards from where Mackenzie’s body was discovered last night, leading authorities to believe that the lynchings are connected. “I would suspect a connection in any case,” said the sheriff. “Lynchings are far from common, and both victims were severely beaten. That would be enough to make an obvious connection. The close proximity of the crime scenes is merely another connection between the murders. In the previous case, the victim clearly died of a broken neck. We’re not so sure about the latest victim.” “The evidence is inconclusive,” said Coroner Clark. “The victim’s neck was not broken. He most likely died of strangulation. It’s not a pleasant death.” No more details were available at the time of publication. Currently, authorities have no suspects in either case. “Neither of these boys appear to have had enemies,” said Sheriff Krane. “Without motive, these could be very hard cases to solve.” Authorities are advising caution. “Don’t go out alone if you don’t have to. We don’t know who we’re dealing with here. Teenagers in particular should be careful, but everyone needs to be cautious until we can solve these crimes,” said Sheriff Krane.

I put the paper down. I couldn’t believe it. Skye was dead. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d died a gruesome and painful death. I couldn’t bear to think of it. It had been bad enough finding out Oliver had been killed, but this was more immediate. Oliver’s death was something in the past; I’d just seen Skye at school a day or two ago. We weren’t friendly, but I couldn’t help but remember the Skye from my own reality. I bowed my head and cried. When the flow of tears stopped, I walked to the bedroom I shared with Seth and tossed myself on the bed. If it hadn’t been for Marty and Zoë, I would’ve felt incredibly alone. So much was different here, so much of what I knew had changed, and worst of all, so many of my friends were either dead or missing. I kept praying I’d wake up and find myself safe in my bed in Graymoor, but life is not a dream. I must’ve fallen asleep as I lay there thinking, for I was awakened some time later by a pillow thudding against my face. “Mom says to get up! Get up, Sean! You’re not gonna believe this!” Seth smacked me in the face a couple more times just to be a beast. “Okay! Okay! What’s up?” “Come on.” Still slightly groggy, I followed Seth into the kitchen where my mother was standing there with…

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“Avery?” I said out loud. “I’m surprised you recognize him,” said Mom. “You two haven’t seen each other since you were five or six.” Avery obviously didn’t recognize me. He looked at me as if gazing at a stranger. “Avery is going to be living with us,” said my mother. “What?” I asked. I would have been a good deal more shocked if the same thing hadn’t happened in my own reality. Still, it was something of a surprise. “I know it’s all very sudden, but your father and I only got the call last night. It isn’t official yet, but we’re Avery’s only living relatives so…here he is. He’ll be sharing your room with Seth. “What?” asked Seth and I together. “Now, why don’t the two of you take your cousin and show him his new room? Go on, clear out of my kitchen. I have to start supper.” “Come on, Avery,” I said. Seth eyed Avery suspiciously as we walked the short distance to our room, but once there his demeanor shifted quickly. I could almost see the light bulb snapping on above his head as he thought of a new way to be a little shit. “I’m sure Mom and Dad will get you a bed soon,” said Seth, “but until then you’ll want to sleep on the couch in the living room or with me. You definitely don’t want to share Sean’s bed. He’s queer.” “Seth,” I growled. “Oh, like he’s not going to find out you’re a fag the first time he sets foot in school.” I truly hated Seth. “You’re a faggot?” said Avery, looking at me with distaste. I was reminded of when he first moved into Graymoor. He was such a jerk then. “He hasn’t molested me in my sleep yet,” said Seth, “at least as far as I know, but I wouldn’t put it past him.” “God,” said Avery, “how can you stand having a cocksucker for a brother. How humiliating. I fucking hate faggots!” Seth shot me a superior grin. “I can see you two are going to be buddies,” I said sarcastically. “At least we’re not butt buddies,” said Avery. Seth and Avery laughed their heads off at that and gave each other a high five. They bonded instantly. My home life had just become unbearable. “Hey, how many faggots does it take to screw in a light bulb?” asked Seth. “I dunno, how many?” said Avery.

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“None, fags don’t screw light bulbs. They’re too busy screwing each other!” The evil pair thought that was just hilarious. I couldn’t believe I was going to have to share my room with two homophobes. It had been bad enough with just Seth, but now he had an ally. I couldn’t take it anymore. I left the room. “Going out to work your street corner, Sean?” asked Avery as I walked out the door. “No, man, he doesn’t charge. He’ll blow anyone who wants it for free,” said Seth. Mercifully, I was soon out of earshot. I headed for the front door, but didn’t make it. Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen and said, “Don’t even think about going anywhere. We’re having supper together as a family tonight.” Yeah, right, like Dad will even acknowledge the existence of his gay son. I knew the man I’d been calling Dad wasn’t my father, at least not my real father. I still hadn’t figured out if he was the father or step-father of the Sean from this reality. It hardly mattered because he hated my guts. I sighed and walked into the kitchen. “Can’t Avery just sleep on the couch or in the basement or something?” I asked Mom as I entered the kitchen. She was frying chicken, and the scent made my stomach rumble. “No, he cannot. He’s your cousin, not a pet, and he’s been through a very difficult time. His parents died only a few days ago.” “Yeah, they were killed in a car wreck,” I said. Mom stared at me. “How did you know that?” Sometimes, it was still difficult for me to keep my realities straight. I’d forgotten that in this one I hadn’t been told Avery’s story yet. It gave me a weird sense of déjà vu, or perhaps a better way to describe it would be to say that it was like reading a book I’d read before. I already knew what was going to happen. Of course, this book had radically changed since the last time I’d read it, so perhaps that wasn’t such a good analogy after all. “Um, I think you might have mentioned it. I don’t know, but I heard it somewhere.” Damn, why didn’t I just say Avery had told me? Mom accepted my explanation, although she did have a confused look on her face. “I know it’s going to be a bit crowded in there, but we have no spare rooms, and it’s important that Avery feel as if he belongs. It’s likely he will be living here

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permanently. We have to make him feel welcome, like a part of the family, and not like a stranger or boarder.” I wanted to tell Mom how Avery already hated me and how he and Seth had ganged up against me. I couldn’t do it, though, because that would’ve disturbed Mom’s fantasy world. I wanted her to accept me for what I was, but for the time being it was easier to leave things be. I had enough conflict in my life without trying to pull my mother kicking and screaming into reality. If I somehow managed to miraculously survive the next few weeks, I’d work on Mom, but I already had too much to deal with. Mom, Dad, Seth, Avery, and I sat around the kitchen table less than an hour later. Dad focused his attention completely upon Avery. No doubt he was trying to make him feel welcome, but it served the dual purpose of allowing Dad to ignore me. He acted as if my chair was empty, and I make no attempt to speak to him. Mom ignored our lack of interaction. Compared to pretending I was a straight boy dating Zoë, it was probably a fairly easy task for her. Seth was clearly delighted that Avery would be living with us. He’d found both a partner in crime and a new brother to replace his old, defective one. I felt like an outsider in my own home, and I was reminded that I really didn’t belong here. The feelings stirred up by the arrival of Avery did nothing to improve my mood. I ignored Avery’s disapproving glances and Seth’s smug countenance. I gave the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn my full attention. Later, I intended to give the chocolate cake Mom had baked even more serious scrutiny. I knew I was eating too much, but what did it matter? Nearly everyone hated me, so who cared if I was twenty pounds overweight or thirty? I thought of Marty and smiled. Suddenly, the darkness of my world was pushed back by the bright shining light of our love. I know that might sound a little corny, but that’s what I experienced as I sat there at the supper table. Nothing mattered except Marty. My dad could ignore me, my mother could pretend I wasn’t gay, and most of my classmates could abuse me, but none of that could dull the love Marty and I felt for each other. Hatred and lies could not touch it; nothing could diminish it. Even death would not end it. My love for Marty gave me something to hold onto when so much else was uncertain. The world I lived in was ugly and cruel, but one small part of it was beautiful, and nothing would ever change that.

TAYLOR—APRIL 1981 I walked toward home from The Hanson Café. Was it really April already? The warmth was most welcome. How we’d survived the winter was beyond me. I was surprised Mark, Marshall, and I hadn’t frozen to death during one of the bitter nights. Marshall had slept with us all winter, moving back into his own box only when March had grown old. It had put a cramp in our nighttime love making, but Mark and I had found other times to be together, and we were all much warmer with Marshall sleeping with us. He quite likely would have died of the cold if he’d slept alone. There had been no sign of Chandler since his disappearance. We checked the newspaper in the library daily, searching the obituaries for any mention of unidentified bodies, kidnapping, et cetera, but discovered nothing. We didn’t really want to read Chandler’s name in the obituaries, but if he was dead we wanted to know. In a way, not knowing was worse. It kept a little bit of hope burning in our hearts, just enough to torment us. I thought often, too, of how he might be alive and suffering somewhere, and nothing would have made me happier than to see him come home. Chase was gone, too. We’d returned from our Christmas party on that cold night that now seemed so long ago to find Chase, his tent, and all his belongings gone. Ike thought that maybe Chandler had returned and they’d gone off together, but I doubted Chandler would have done so without saying goodbye to the tribe. Even if he was still angry with me, he was close to a lot of the others. At the very least he would have left a note. I wasn’t sorry to see Chase go, but with him went a big part of our combined income. Everyone did what they could to earn money, though, and we did okay. I was hoping we’d get enough money coming in for all of us to be able to afford some kind of apartment together—a cheap one, anything with heat, for the next winter—with a bathroom. With the departure of Chase that dream became more - 397 -

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elusive. I was the only one who had a steady job. Mark and Marshall did okay for a while, picking up odd jobs after their mall jobs had ended. They shoveled walks and drives, but with the end of winter, those sporadic jobs disappeared, too. They were hoping for lawn work soon, but even that wouldn’t be steady. Our whole existence seemed temporary. Our life was like a house of cards; one mishap could bring it all crashing down. The system was set against us, too. Mark and I were the only fugitives in the group, as far as I knew, but even the others were afraid of trying to get help. They would likely be stuffed in foster homes, and, according to Ike and Eduardo, that could be a lot worse than life on the street. With spring there was hope, but I wondered how much hope there really was for any of us. Mark and I would be fugitives forever. I guess maybe there was a statute of limitations, but we could hardly wait twenty-five years or however long to finish high school. Any way I looked at it, our lives were messed up. We couldn’t finish high school, let alone go to college: That would keep us out of any decent job. Unless we found a way to come up with some convincing fake ID, we wouldn’t even have a chance at fairly decent jobs. I’d lucked out with The Hanson Café. I thanked God daily for walking through that door, but could I work there the rest of my life? I wanted a real home. I didn’t care if it was a seedy apartment or a trailer or what, as long as it wasn’t a cardboard box. Living where I did was humiliating. I never told anyone where I lived. They all assumed I had an apartment somewhere, and I encouraged their delusion. Right now, a used refrigerator box was the best I could manage. I could only dream about a better life. I thought of what Mark had said many weeks before, about living our lives until they came undone. That’s what we were doing, really, struggling along until the end came. I guess that’s what everyone did, though. If you followed anyone’s story long enough it eventually ended in death. We’re all terminal. That sounds depressing as hell, but it’s not really. The whole point of life is to live it and enjoy it as much as possible before it’s over. That’s what Mark and I and everyone else were doing. There was a lot of pain and uncertainty in our lives, but there was a lot of joy, too. My joy was Mark. The mere sight of him made my heart sing. When I returned to the village, Mark was waiting on me. He smiled and hugged me, and suddenly my life seemed a lot better than it had only a few minutes before. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

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My feet were tired from the long hours at the café, but a walk with my boyfriend still sounded dreamy. We strolled away from the village, enjoying the feel of sunlight on our faces. “How was your day?” asked Mark. “Busy. Five guys hit on me, two of them offered me money to come home with them.” “I thought you were a little late.” I hit Mark in the shoulder, and he laughed. “The regulars know I’m taken, but they still like to flirt. It’s the new customers who hit on me.” “Who can blame them?” said Mark. “Stop, you’ll embarrass me.” “Oh, how I love spring,” said Mark, taking a deep breath. “I wish daffodils grew here. I think they might be my favorite flowers. A patch of them always grew by the house. They came up every year in early spring.” “Someday, we’ll get ourselves a little house, and we’ll plant daffodils all around it,” I said. “I’d like that.” Not far ahead, we spotted a boy sitting up against the brick wall of an abandoned storefront. He was hunched over as if trying to make himself small. He was blond and wore only a worn pair of sneakers, jeans, and a pale yellow t-shirt. My heart began to beat faster. He looked more than a little like Chandler. Mark and I looked at each other, and I could read the same hope in his eyes that I felt in my heart. We slowed, then halted just a few paces from the boy. “Hey,” I said. He didn’t respond. “Hey,” I said again, kneeling down and touching him lightly on the arm just above his elbow. He jerked away from me and looked into my eyes fearfully. I gasped. “Nathan?” I looked up at Mark. He was clearly as shocked as I was to find Nathan on the streets of Indy. Mark kneeled down. “Nathan, it’s Mark. You remember me, don’t you?” Nathan looked into Mark’s eyes. There seemed to be a glint of recognition there, but I wasn’t sure. Nathan looked back at me. “It’s Taylor,” I said. “I know I look different. I had to cut and dye my hair.”

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Nathan didn’t say a word; he just looked back down at his feet. Mark and I looked at each other, unsure of what to do. “Nathan, what are you doing here?” asked Mark. No answer. Nathan’s continued lack of responsiveness was frightening. “You look like you could use something to eat,” I said. It was an understatement. Nathan had always been painfully thin, but he looked as if he’d been starving for quite some time. “Come with us. We’ll all go have supper together.” I reached out toward him, but he pulled back, shrinking from me as if he feared I would beat him. “It’s us,” said Mark. “It’s Mark and Taylor, from Verona. Remember? You sat near us at lunch every day, right beside Ethan. Come with us. We’ll get you something to eat. We’ll take care of you.” Mark carefully extended his hand, as if approaching a fawn in the forest. Nathan gazed at him as he spoke. He looked down at Mark’s hand and back into his eyes. Mark smiled. Nathan slowly reached out and took Mark’s hand. Mark pulled him to his feet. “Yeah, that’s it,” said Mark. “How ’bout we go to Denny’s? Tay and I love to eat there.” Nathan’s only response was to look at Mark then away down the street. We began walking. I moved to Nathan’s side, but he pulled away from me fearfully. He quickly looked at Mark. “It’s okay. It’s Taylor. He won’t hurt you.” Nathan didn’t look completely convinced, so I put Mark between us. He seemed to trust Mark, perhaps because he recognized him. We walked on. Mark tried to carry on a conversation, but it wasn’t easy to converse with someone who wouldn’t speak. I stole glances at Nathan. There were dark rings around his eyes, and his face was almost skeletal. My God, I thought, what happened to him? We made straight for Denny’s. Upon our arrival, we took our usual booth and ordered our usual meals. When Nathan’s meal was set down before him, he looked at it hungrily. “Go on,” said Mark. “It’s okay.” Mark bit off a piece of bacon. Nathan looked at him, then began to quickly eat. I was all I could do to keep from bawling as I watched him. Mark told Nathan of our life in Indy as he sat in the booth next to him. He spoke of the village and of the tribe. I remained mostly silent, but smiled on the rare occasions when Nathan looked at me. His eyes held no recognition in them at all. I couldn’t have looked that different.

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Mark kept speaking, trying to put Nathan at ease. I think he was also trying to prepare him for meeting the others, so it wouldn’t be as much of a shock. Nathan seemed fearful of all strangers. I’d had a late lunch, as usual, so I wasn’t terribly hungry. I still had no trouble putting away the pancakes, eggs, and bacon. When you’re homeless, you learn not to waste anything and to eat whenever food is available. I had a job, and therefore Mark and I knew where our next meal was coming from, but I knew what it was like to go without. Being hungry, truly hungry, is not a pleasant sensation in the least. Nathan was putting away his food fast. Mark ordered him another breakfast. It arrived just as Nathan was finishing his first, and he set to work on it right away. I wondered how many days he’d gone without eating. I wondered a lot of things about Nathan, such as how he found his way to Indy. It was only about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Verona, perhaps a bit less, but it was many days’ travel on foot. Of course, Nathan may have been driven there; perhaps he hitchhiked. I didn’t know. When we’d left Verona, Nathan had seemed fine. I’d noticed nothing that would have given him cause to run away. Of course, I knew nothing of his home life. He seemed slightly fearful of Ethan near the end, too. I froze, a forkful of scrambled eggs half way to my mouth, remembering what Brandon had told us about Ethan. I still couldn’t believe it. Mark and I had called Brandon from a payphone about once a month, just to let him know we were okay. He’d told us about Ethan. Ethan had skipped town, right after a failed attempt to rape Zac. I couldn’t believe it when Brandon told me about it. I would’ve never thought Ethan would do something like that, but Brandon had seen it with his own eyes. He told me how he and the others had to pull Ethan off Zac and how terrified Zac was of Ethan. I looked at Nathan again. Had Ethan done something to him? Is that why he ran away? I shuddered at the very thought. It seemed like the whole world had gone to hell. Ethan had always been so cool. He’d always been kind to me. When we left, he was having serious problems, and I know they had driven him toward drugs. I’d seen him talking to Austin, and I’d seen his bloodshot eyes. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Maybe the drugs had messed him up enough to attack Zac and perhaps Nathan, too. I put it out of my mind. There was no use thinking about it. Only Nathan could tell us what’d happened to him, and he wasn’t talking. Nathan slowed his pace; he’d nearly finished his second breakfast before I’d finished mine. Near the end, he ate his food like someone who was full, but

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couldn’t bear to let anything go to waste. I knew the feeling well. Still, he couldn’t quite manage the last of his pancakes or eggs. I bet it was the first time he’d had more food than he could eat in a long, long time. “Feeling better?” asked Mark. Nathan turned to him quickly and hugged him tightly. Mark wrapped his arms around him, and Nathan began to cry. It was the first sounds I’d heard him make. He clung to Mark as if clinging to life. Tears ran down my cheeks as I watched, and I wondered once more what had happened to that boy. I paid the check, and the three of us walked slowly back to the village. When we arrived, only Patti was there. I was relieved because I didn’t think Nathan could handle the whole crowd all at once. “Who’s your friend?” Patti asked as we approached. I pulled her to the side and filled her in. I made a point of asking her to talk to Caleb. I could just imagine how he’d terrify Nathan if he went off on him the way he did Mark and me when we first arrived. Patti approached Nathan carefully, speaking soft words of kindness. Nathan looked to Mark for reassurance. “It’s okay. Patti’s a friend.” Nathan actually let Patti lead him to a sunny space in the grass nearby. He pulled away when she tried to touch him, but he seemed to listen to her somewhat. He looked to Mark now and then, as if making sure he was still there. “God, what’s happened to him?” Mark asked me quietly while Patti attempted to break through Nathan’s shell. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. I don’t even remember Brandon saying anything about him running away.” “He did. I’m sorry, I thought I told you. I guess I just forgot. There was so much going on.” “It’s okay. So, when did he leave?” “Not long after we did.” “So he’s been wandering around for months?” “Yeah.” “I wonder where he’s been all this time.” “Who knows? The bigger question is what happened to him? Why won’t he speak?” “Isn’t there something about people not speaking when they’ve been traumatized or something?” “I don’t know.” “I think there is. I think something very, very bad happened to Nathan.”

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“But what?” asked Mark. “I’ve only got one theory, and I hope it’s wrong.” Mark looked at me expectantly. “Remember Brandon telling us about Ethan, how he tried to rape Zac?” “Yeah.” “What if Ethan did something to Nathan? You remember how they were kind of close. Then, just before we left, Nathan started acting as if he was scared of Ethan, and Ethan was acting strange himself.” “I can’t believe Ethan would molest anyone,” said Mark. “Me, either, except for one thing—we know he tried to rape Zac. Brandon saw it with his own eyes.” “I still can’t believe that,” said Mark. “I mean, I do believe it because Brandon was there, but…that’s just not Ethan.” “I know Ethan was doing drugs. Maybe he was so messed up he did things he would have never done otherwise. What other explanation is there?” “I feel like the whole world is coming apart,” said Mark. “What’s up guys?” We turned to find Marshall walking toward us. “We found an old friend,” said Mark, nodding toward Nathan. “Who’s that?” “Nathan.” “Nathan?” asked Marshall incredulously, as if he knew him and couldn’t believe the boy sitting near was actually him. That didn’t make sense, however, because Marshall had never met him. “Yeah,” said Mark. “Be real careful when you’re near him. He’s very fearful, and he won’t talk.” “Where’d you find him?” Marshall was staring at Nathan in disbelief and horror. “Just sitting in front of a building,” I said. “We took him to Denny’s, but we haven’t been able to get a single word out of him. He’s afraid of me.” Marshall looked lost in thought. He looked like he was about to cry. He had a soft heart. The rest of the evening was spent trying to acclimate Nathan to the tribe. Patti grabbed Caleb the moment he appeared and spoke to him, but I still feared he’d intimidate Nathan. The last thing we needed was for him to run. Caleb didn’t give him any trouble, however. Perhaps he was convinced that a boy who wouldn’t even speak had no designs on his girl.

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Nathan never let Mark out of his sight. If someone spoke too loudly or came too close to him, he edged toward Mark, sometimes even clinging to him. When it came time for bed, Nathan eyed me warily. He backed away quickly when I pulled off my shirt. Mark assured him it was okay and that he was safe. Mark slept between us, and Nathan snuggled up against him like a frightened puppy. I thanked God we’d happened upon Nathan, but I had no idea what we’d be able to do for him.

RALPH—FORT WAYNE, INDIANA—JULY 1997 I paced around my hotel room, too excited to sit. I couldn’t believe I’d watched my favorite band, Specter, perform live on stage just an hour before. I’d seen them on TV so many times, and at last there they were, right in front of me. There was Ross, my dream boy! To top it all off, my best friend, Denise, had won me tickets on the second row! I was close enough to see Ross sweat as he sang and played the keyboard. Then, right near the end, when he was singing You Know How Bad I Want You, Ross had looked me right in the eyes. I felt like he was singing just for me. Music was playing in my mind, Specter’s music, with the sweet voice of Ross making my heart sing. My ears were still ringing with Specter’s songs and the screaming of 3000 fans as I returned to the motel. I wanted nothing more than to go back and experience the concert all over again. It might seem silly to some, but it was the best night of my life. I still couldn’t believe I’d been so close to Ross. I still couldn’t believe he actually looked at me. I couldn’t sit still. I took the elevator down to the second floor. I’d seen some vending machines down there, and I needed a candy bar or something. I stood before the machine and picked out a chocolate bar with almonds and one with caramel and nuts. I glanced at the pool as I walked by and thought about going for a swim before I went to bed. I didn’t get the chance to use an indoor pool often. It was late, but I wasn’t tired. My head was in the clouds. I was thinking dreamy thoughts of Ross as I walked around the corner. I collided with someone hard—hard enough to knock him down. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying…” I fell silent. I actually couldn’t speak. I know my mouth was gaping open as I stared down at the boy in the hooded sweatshirt. The hood partly obscured his features, but there was no doubt…

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“Hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going either—kind of messing around you know,” he said as I gave him a hand up. I was silent for a bit longer; it was hard to find my voice. I swallowed hard. “I’m Ralph.” “Ross,” he said, lowering his hood. I had no idea what to say, but I wanted to keep talking. I didn’t want the moment to end. “I just came down to get some candy bars; thought about going for a swim later.” “So this place has an indoor pool?” “Yeah, just around the corner.” I stepped back to allow Ross a good look at the pool. “Ah, man, it’s locked.” “My room card will open the door,” I said hopefully. I was eager to do anything I could to please him. I absolutely couldn’t believe who I was talking to. “Hey, you want to go swimming? I actually came looking for a pool. I’ve got my suit with me,” said Ross. My head was spinning. I just knew I was going to wake up at any second, and when I did I’d be pissed. It had to be a dream. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? If it was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to just keep on dreaming. Somehow I knew that it was no dream. I was actually standing there talking to him. Ross, the Ross of Specter, had just asked me to go swimming with him! He was so beautiful. Oh, my God! “Sure!” I said. “Um, want to change in my room?” I hoped he didn’t think I was some kind of freak for asking him that. “That would be cool; I didn’t really want to change in the pool.” Never in any span of years would I have dreamed I’d be leading Ross back to my hotel room. My heart was racing a mile a minute, and it was all I could do to keep from telling him how awesome I thought he was. It was hard to keep myself from asking him all kinds of questions. I wanted to be cool, however. I was sure everyone bugged him like that all the time. His fans were always shoving photos at him to sign and pestering him to death. We got in the elevator. I still couldn’t believe I was standing right there with HIM. Ross was my absolute favorite member of Specter, the hottest new boy band on the face of the planet. I’d idolized Ross for an entire year, ever since I first saw his face on TV. His pocket started buzzing in the elevator. He pulled out a small cell phone, looked at it frowning, pushed a button and put it back in his pocket.

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“Just someone I don’t want to talk to just now,” he said. He followed me to my room, and we entered. “You can use the bathroom,” I said. I changed into my swimsuit while Ross was out of the room. He was back out almost before I was done. I had to fight to keep from staring. Ross was standing there wearing nothing but his swimsuit. I’d been searching for months for a picture of him without a shirt. I’d dreamed about finding one. I’d have paid any price to see Ross with a bare chest, and there he was standing before me. He was beautiful. He was slim and firm. He didn’t have a lot of muscle, but he was beautifully proportioned, a work of art. Ross sat down on the bed and put on his shoes. “Ready?” he said. “Yeah.” It was unbelievably hard to speak. He was so beautiful he took my breath away. “I’ve been dying for a swim. I haven’t had one in like, forever,” he said. “I don’t get to swim in a pool much, either,” I said. “We’ve got one at school, but we only have swimming about two weeks out of the semester. Mainly I just swim in the pond.” I suddenly felt like a country bumpkin talking about swimming in a pond, but Ross didn’t look like he thought that way about me at all. “That sounds like fun, too. I haven’t swum in a pond since I was really little.” Ross was talking to me as if he was just a real person. He was, of course, but all I’d ever known of him was based on seeing him in magazines and on television. All that made him seem almost unreal, bigger than life. Walking by his side, there was no denying he was real. He was as nice a boy as I had imagined. I just knew he’d be cool and kind, and he was! I loved him more than ever. A wave of sadness hit me. I loved him, but I sure couldn’t tell him that. Even if I’d been a girl, he’d have thought I was just another crazed fan. Since I was a boy, he’d probably run away screaming. That didn’t make me feel so good. I was so stupid! I was living a dream come true. I was actually hanging out with Ross. I was doing something millions of his fans dreamed of doing, and I was getting depressed. I mentally kicked myself in the ass for it and forced myself to enjoy what was happening, rather than wallow in self-pity. I knew I’d be remembering what happened in the next few minutes for the rest of my life. I wanted to savor every second of it. I was actually with him and I was going to enjoy it! I got us into the pool area, and Ross slipped into the water. I came in right after him. “Now this is nice,” he said, as he treaded water in the deep end.

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“Yeah.” “You staying in Fort Wayne long?” he asked. “No, I have to leave tomorrow.” “Me, too.” “Where you from?” asked Ross. “Southern Indiana, about forty miles northeast of Evansville.” “I’ve been there, Evansville, that is. I didn’t get to see anything, though. We were just passing through.” “There’s not that much to see,” I laughed. I hoped Ross didn’t notice I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. He had the most amazing eyes and the most beautiful features I’d ever seen on a boy. He was even more beautiful close up and in person than he was in magazines. I hoped he didn’t notice I kept stealing looks at his bare chest, either. I just couldn’t help myself. He had the sexiest abs. I yearned to trace them with my fingers. Ross and I started playing around in the water, fighting and wrestling. I must admit that it was overwhelming at first touching him like that. He was someone that it didn’t seem right to touch. I had to remind myself that he was just a boy, however. Sure, he was a famous boy who was on the cover of every magazine and probably had movie stars for friends, but he was still a boy. Even though I was touching him, there was nothing sexual about it. I won’t say I wasn’t attracted to him, because that would be a total lie. It’s just that I didn’t have sexual thoughts about him. It’s hard to explain, but he was too good for that. He was too important to me to be thought of like that. Not that there was anything wrong with sex, but still…I’d never had sexual fantasies about Ross. I had them about a lot of other guys, but not him. When I dreamed about Ross, I dreamed about just spending time with him and maybe holding hands. I dreamed of him kissing me lightly, but that was it. I guess that meant I was really in love with him. Just spending time with Ross is what I dreamed about the most, and I was actually getting to do it! That thought occurred to me every now and then. Mostly, I didn’t think about it. I think the most wonderful thing about being with Ross is that it seemed I was hanging out with someone I’d known for a long time, a friend. We climbed out of the pool and into the hot tub. Luckily, we had the whole place to ourselves. I sat across from Ross, feeling the hot bubbling water on my body. His hair was wet and sticking to the sides of his face. It reached most of the way down his shoulders. He looked quite different from any picture I’d ever seen of him, but he was no less beautiful.

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What I noticed most about him was his eyes. Even during the concert, even before he looked at me, I was captivated by his eyes. They were greenish-blue and enchanting. I could get lost in those eyes. The sign on the wall said to only stay in the hot tub for fifteen minutes at a time, so we got out when our time was up. I could see why it was a good idea not to stay in too long; I felt a little lightheaded. Of course, that may have been because of Ross. We left the hot tub, returned to the room and changed. I was afraid Ross would leave right away and bring the best night of my life to an end, but to my surprise he sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at me. “I saw you at the concert,” he said. “You were sitting in the second row, weren’t you? I nodded, blushing. “Yeah, I thought so.” Ross locked his eyes on mine. “You were practically drooling over me. You’re gay, aren’t you? It’s ok, most of our guy fans are.” I was panic stricken. Even though he’d just assured me it was okay, having my idol ask if I was gay was more than I could take. Only my two best friends, Denise and Chris, knew about me. I turned crimson. “I saw you looking at me in the pool. You were checking me out,” said Ross. I could feel my face growing ever hotter. He knew I’d been checking him out! What was I going to do? “I bet you’d like to see ‘Ross, Jr.’ here wouldn’t you?” he said, rubbing the front of his jeans. I almost fainted from shock and embarrassment. “It’s okay. I usually go for girls but I don’t mind fooling around with a cute guy every now and then, and you’re definitely cute. Why don’t you come over here and see him up close?” I was completely unable to move. Ross stood, pulled off his shirt, and slipped out of his jeans and boxers. I couldn’t believe it. Ross—the Ross—was standing before me, completely naked. Ross sat back down. My eyes were locked on his nakedness, but still I didn’t move. Ross impatiently reached over, took me by the back of the neck, and pushed my head toward his crotch. It was too much. I wasn’t ready. I was a virgin. I wanted Ross; at the same time…I just wasn’t ready for something like this. I tried to stand, but Ross grabbed two handfuls of my hair and forced me to go down on him. I struggled at first, but instinct took over. Ross took his hands away, and I kept right on going.

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“Yeah!” he said. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Physically, I wanted it; at the same time it felt all wrong. I was confused. How did we go from swimming to sex so quickly? Ross got more and more excited; then he roughly pushed me off him. I fell back onto the floor. “You’re good at that, but I want something more.” I stood, uncertain as to the meaning of his words. He walked over to me and quickly pulled my shirt over my head. I was embarrassed for Ross to see me without a shirt because I wasn’t the best built guy around, but he barely looked at me. Instead, he was far more concerned with getting my jeans off. Before I knew it, I was naked. Ross took me by the arm and led me to the bed. He pushed me face down upon it and climbed on top of me. I wasn’t so sure I wanted it. Part of me did, but most of me wasn’t at all ready. I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t even considered the possibility—not with anyone and certainly not with Ross. I felt as if I was inside a messed-up dream. I let him push me down on the bed, because it was Ross after all. He was my idol and the most beautiful boy in the world. How could I say no to him? I’d be stupid to say no. Ross lowered himself upon me and with one fast motion he entered me. The pain was unbearable. I screamed. “Oh, God! It hurts! Stop, please stop!” “You know you want this. Shut up and take it.” I tried to get away, but Ross held me down and kept right on going. I struggled against him, but he was too strong for me. I bit down hard on the pillow and cried. Ross thrust himself into me harder and harder. He never let up until he was finished. When he crawled off me, I rolled over, still crying. Ross pulled on his boxers and jeans. “Why did you do this to me?” I asked. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want it.” “I didn’t want that. I just wanted to be with you, to spend time with you…” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, everyone wants to be my friend. Guys like you wouldn’t give a damn about me if I wasn’t famous.” “But, I…” “Just shut up.” Ross pulled on his socks and shoes, then stood and put on his shirt. “I had a good time, Randy.” “Ralph.”

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“Whatever,” said Ross, rolling his eyes. “Just let me give you a word of warning, if you ever tell anyone about this, my management company will sue you for defamation of character, and my bodyguard will find you and make you regret it.” I looked up at Ross with tears in my eyes. How could he treat me like this? He walked out the door without so much as saying goodbye. I just sat on the edge of my bed and bawled. When I calmed down at last, I quickly dressed and packed. I couldn’t stand staying in that room after what had happened to me there. I’d idolized Ross. Seeing him perform live was the highlight of my life. I’d actually met him. He seemed so cool, then…it all went wrong. How could I have cared so much for a boy who would do something like that to me? How could he treat anyone like that? I wondered how many times he’d done something like it before. I’d met my idol, and he’d turned out to be a monster. After checking out, I hit the road. A hard rain began to pound down on the windshield. I could barely find my way in the darkness. The pavement was slick and black. Rain always made me drowsy, and I was tired. It was getting late. After about an hour a Specter song came on the radio, and I started crying all over again. The tears were making my vision blurry. The next thing I knew I’d run a red light. I heard tires squeal and jerked my head to the left to see a huge semi…

TAYLOR—APRIL 1981 Two weeks passed, and still Nathan didn’t speak. He became more at ease around all of us and especially around me. He still viewed Mark as his protector and ran to him if afraid. It was a good thing he clung to Mark instead of me. Mark was able to spend his days with him, whereas I had to work. Mark had never been able to find a full or even part-time job, although he did pick up odd jobs wherever he could. Mark worked hard to get Nathan to understand that I was no threat to him. He repeatedly told him I wouldn’t hurt him. I continually smiled at Nathan and tried to be as nice to him as I could be. I think what really made the difference was Nathan observing Mark and me hug and even kiss. Unfortunately, the presence of Nathan put a damper on our love life. Mark and I had done no more than kiss since we’d found Nathan. I was in desperate need, and Mark looked ready to pounce on me at any moment. We were going to have to do something about the situation soon. We hadn’t called Brandon in more than a month, so it was time to check in. Nathan was doing well enough that he reluctantly agreed to stay with Patti while Mark and I made our call. We always called him from a different pay phone, but I seriously doubted the cops had his phone bugged. The Verona police didn’t seem that efficient, and there was no reason for anyone to suspect Brandon was in contact with us. Brandon had two startling revelations for us when we spoke to him. The first he told to Mark, after Mark told him of finding Nathan. Mark quickly relayed the news to me—Nathan’s little brother, Dave, had been with him when he ran away. My heart clutched in fear when I heard that. I hadn’t even thought of Dave. Why wasn’t he with Nathan when we found him? The second bit of news made me forget all about the first. After he’d spoken to Brandon, Mark handed the receiver to me. I gripped the phone in a death grip as - 412 -

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Brandon spoke. The bombshell he dropped made the news about Dave seem like nothing. I just listened in stunned silence. I knew I’d turned white as a sheet, because Mark stared at me with a worried expression on his face. I began to cry. “What did the note say?” I asked Brandon. I cried harder when he told me. Mark was still gazing at me as I hung up the receiver. “Tay, what’s wrong?” I rubbed my face with my hands. “Just give me a while, okay? I’ll tell you, but I need some time first.” Mark agreed, although I could tell he did so reluctantly. “Where do you think Dave is?” asked Mark. I shook my head. I couldn’t focus on Dave. I couldn’t think about anything except what Brandon had just told me. “Do you think we should ask Nathan about it?” asked Mark. “I don’t know,” I said. I forced myself to think about Dave for a moment, even though my head was reeling. “It might not be a good idea. It’s not as if he’d tell us anything. Asking him might just make him worse.” Mark nodded. “Listen,” I said, “I need some time to think…alone. When I’m done, I’ll tell you what Brandon said, okay?” “Okay, Babe. I love you.” “I love you, too,” I said and nearly cried. Mark walked toward the village, and I wandered off, not caring where I went. I couldn’t believe it. Stephanie was dead. What’s more, she’d killed herself because of me. That wasn’t even the worst of it. She’d been about six-months pregnant and had named me as the father in her suicide note. The note said she killed herself because she couldn’t bear to carry the child of a murdering faggot inside her anymore. She couldn’t live with the humiliation I’d inflicted on her, and she wasn’t about to raise my child. I was devastated. I didn’t even know Stephanie was pregnant. We’d only been together that one time… She killed herself because of me, I thought. I wanted to die. I had blood on my hands—again. I’d killed Jon, and now Stephanie was dead, too. She’d killed herself, but I might as well have killed her with my own hands and her child…my child…our child. I couldn’t bear to think about it. It’d seemed like such a good plan for Mark and me to pretend to date girls. We never meant to hurt them. We never meant for anyone to find out about us. Both Stephanie and Laura had been humiliated when we were outed, when

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everyone found out they were dating fags. It made them a laughingstock. That was bad enough, but now… My shoulders shuddered as I cried. I’d cared about Stephanie, loved her even. I was gay. I had no doubt about that now, but I’d been confused by her. Being gay didn’t keep me from caring about her. Much of what was between us was real. She hadn’t been my girlfriend in the true sense of the word, but we were friends. She was kind and sweet and loving, and because of me she was dead. Could the child she was carrying really have been mine? I’d never even considered the possibility that a child might result from our one night together. We’d had sex a single time, but once was enough. Stephanie wasn’t the kind of girl to sleep around; most likely the baby that died inside her was mine—another death, more blood on my hands. I couldn’t help but think of that unborn baby. I could have been a father. I could have had a son or a daughter. What might he or she have grown up to be? That future would not come to pass, whatever it might have been, for my child was dead before I even knew it existed. What was Mark going to think of me? I’d never told him about that night with Stephanie. It was my guilty secret. I’d been unfaithful to him. There were reasons, but that didn’t alter the stark fact that I’d been unfaithful to the one I loved with all my heart. Stephanie had taken advantage of me. She’d been out to seduce me all along, and the single time I got drunk she succeeded. The guilt had hit me as soon as I climbed off Stephanie. Even drunk, I realized what I’d done. Later, when I’d sobered up, I thought things through and decided not to hurt Mark by telling him. I also vowed it would never happen again, and I’d kept my vow. My sin had grown into a nightmare, however, and could no long be kept a secret. What would I do if Mark would not forgive me? I turned the situation over and over in my mind, but came up with no new solutions. I was guilty of so much—adultery, murder, and more. I knew that when I revealed the truth to Mark it might well be the end of us. Why would he want to remain with a creature as unfaithful as I was? I bawled my eyes out. If Mark left me, I’d have nothing. I returned to the village, sorry I was still dressed in my work clothes. My tight jeans and tighter muscle shirt made me look like a slut. Perhaps it wasn’t so far from the truth. I began to sob when I set eyes on Mark. He looked at me with concern and made a move to hug me, but I waved him off. I didn’t deserve his comfort. He’d been sitting there, worrying about me the whole time I was gone. I didn’t deserve his compassion. “Taylor, Babe, please tell me what’s going on,” he said.

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Most of the others were out and about. Nathan was in the village, as always, but he was with Marshall. He’d grown somewhat comfortable around the rest of the tribe, although he had yet to speak. I led Mark to a grassy area away from the village so no one would overhear. “Stephanie’s dead,” I said and began to cry anew. “Oh, Taylor, I’m so sorry. What happened?” I told Mark how she’d killed herself. He sought to comfort me, of course, but it only served to make me feel worse. “There’s more,” I said, “and this is the part that’s going to hurt. This is the part that’s going to make you hate me.” I broke down crying again while Mark told me he could never hate me. Little did he realize that he couldn’t have been more wrong. “Stephanie was carrying an unborn child,” I said. “It died, too.” I looked into Mark’s eyes. I couldn’t bear to hurt him, and I knew that what I was about to say would tear him apart. “The child was mine,” I said. Mark looked as if I’d struck him. In my lifetime I’d been beaten, disowned, and raped, but none of that compared to the pain I experienced as I saw the look on Mark’s face. He was devastated. “Yours?” he said. I nodded. Mark opened his mouth, but no words came out. “It happened the night of that party in the graveyard. You remember, when we both got drunk and just about outed ourselves? As I was getting ready for bed, someone knocked on my window. I thought it was you, but it was Stephanie. She convinced me to go on a walk with her. We ended up under the bleachers by the football field. We started kissing and…” “Spare me the details,” said Mark. I could tell from his tone of voice he was angry. “It was over almost before it began. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. It was just…instinct.” “You fucked her and you didn’t even think about it?” asked Mark, incredulously. “Did you think about me? Did you consider me for even one second? Or did you just not give a damn that you were cheating on me? I can’t believe this! I cannot fucking believe it!” Mark’s voice grew louder and louder by the second. I’d never seen him so angry before. For the first time ever I feared he might strike me. “I’m sorry. I was drunk and…”

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“And that makes it okay? You were drunk, so it was okay for you to go out and fuck a girl?” Mark’s voice cracked, and I could tell he was fighting back sobs. “You know, I tried to be understanding about your feelings for Stephanie. I knew you cared about her, loved her even, but you told me you loved me more. You told me I was the one. I guess you lied about that, too!” “No! No! I wasn’t lying. You’re the one I love, Mark. You’re the one I want to be with!” “So to prove it, you fucked Stephanie, then hid the truth from me!” “I didn’t want to hurt you.” “You didn’t want to hurt me? More like you didn’t want to face the music! You didn’t want me to know what an unfaithful slut you were! You get drunk one time, and you run right out and fuck a girl! If you needed it so bad, Tay, you could’ve come to me, you could’ve come to me! Have I ever refused you?” “I’m sorry,” I said, crying. “Yeah, you’re sorry. The only thing you’re sorry about is that you got caught!” “I didn’t have to tell you!” “Yes, you did. Don’t lie to me. I would have found out from Brandon sooner or later, and you know it. What else have you been lying to me about, Taylor? Who else have you been fucking behind my back?” “No one! I’ve always been faithful to you, except for that one time with Stephanie.” “Either you’re faithful or you’re not, Taylor. There’s no ‘except for that one time.’ You were unfaithful to me. How can I ever trust you again? How could you do this to me? How could you do this to us? I thought you loved me!” Mark was sobbing as he stood and walked away from me. “I do you love, Mark!” I called after him. “I do!” Mark kept right on walking. He didn’t look back. He didn’t even slow down. I fell upon the grass and bawled my eyes out. ✶

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I took a long walk to think things through. When I returned to the village more than an hour later, Mark was nowhere to be seen. It was getting late, however, so I figured he’d gone to bed. Marshall looked at me uncomfortably. “Um, your stuff is in my box. Mark said you’d be sleeping with me.” New tears sprang to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “Taylor, what happened?” “Mark found out I’m a cheating slut. He doesn’t love me anymore.”

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All the color drained from Marshall’s face. I could see his face pale even with nothing more than the moonlight to illuminate his features. “Of course, he loves you.” I shook my head. “I wish you hadn’t stopped me. I wish I had killed myself. Things would’ve been better. Everyone would be better off without me.” “Don’t talk like that, Taylor.” “It’s the truth!” “No, it’s not.” Marshall took me by the hand and led me away from the village. We sat down in the grass not far from where I’d had my talk with Mark. “What happened?” asked Marshall. “There was this girl back in Verona, Stephanie. At one time, Mark and I pretended to have girlfriends so no one would find out about us; only I really cared about Stephanie. One night, I got drunk and well…I just found out tonight that Stephanie was pregnant.” Oddly enough, Marshall didn’t seem surprised by my tale, then Marshall was like that. He seemed to have a sixth sense about things. “Everyone makes mistakes.” said Marshall, uncertainly. “I cheated on Mark. I was drunk and not thinking clearly, but I cheated on him. I never told him about it. I told myself it was to spare him the pain, but maybe I just didn’t have the balls to tell him what I’d done.” “Taylor, you love Mark. I know you do. He loves you, too. All anyone has to do is look at the two of you to know you’re deeply in love with each other. You cheated on him. You did something wrong. I know without asking that you’re truly sorry. Mark will forgive you.” “Will he?” “Yes, he will. I know he will. He’ll just need some time. He’s hurt now, Taylor. There’s nothing worse than when the one you love hurts you. The love you have for that person magnifies the pain. The depth of his pain just shows how much he loves you.” “I never wanted to hurt him.” “I know you didn’t, and he knows it, too.” “I hope you’re right, but I just can’t help feeling that it’s over between us, that I’ll never be able to hug him or kiss him again, that I’ll never again hear him say I love you.” I blinked away the tears. I hadn’t been so miserable in a long, long time. Knowing I deserved it only made it worse. “There’s one good thing,” said Marshall.

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“What?” I asked, glumly. “You’re going to have a son! Did you stop to think, Taylor, that maybe you and Stephanie were meant to have a child together? Maybe he was meant to be born. He could grow up to be…anything. He could even change the world. You and Mark can raise him together.” I burst out into tears again. “What’s wrong, Taylor?” “He’s not going to be born, if it was a he.” “What do you mean?” “The baby is dead, Marshall. Stephanie killed herself and the baby died, too. She was only about six months along.” Marshall’s mouth dropped open and tears filled his eyes. He hoarsely whispered “Jordan” and then began to cry. I stared at the bizarre display. His obvious grief made no sense. He’d never met Stephanie, and as for the baby…it had never been born. Could he have possibly have felt my own grief so keenly? My thoughts turned to Stephanie and the child I’d never know. My thoughts had been so centered on Mark I’d nearly forgotten them, and my guilt flared up anew. I’d loved Stephanie, and she was gone. It would have been bad enough if she’d been killed in an accident, but she’d killed herself because of me. I thought of the baby. If things had worked out differently, I would’ve been a father. I would have had a son or a daughter. If it had been a boy I could have taught him so many things! My son would be a soccer player, I was sure. Whatever he was, I would have loved him with all my heart. I’m sure I would have loved a daughter just as much, but…none of that was going to happen now. The child I never knew was already dead before I found out it lived. The feeling of loss was overwhelming. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” said Marshall, sobs choking him. “Everything was supposed to be better. Everything was supposed to be okay, and everyone was supposed to be happy.” Marshall was nearly hysterical. I’d never seen him bawl like that before. “Marshall, what are you talking about?” Marshall looked up quickly, as if only then realizing I was present. His eyes darted about fearfully. “Just…life,” he said after a pause. “I’m so sorry about Stephanie, Jordan, and about Mark.” “Jordan?”

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Marshall tried to hide the shocked look on his face, but couldn’t. “It’s…nothing. I’m just upset. I get all confused when I’m upset. I used to know this boy who kind of looked like you. His name was Jordan.” Marshall was lying. I was almost sure of it, but none of it made any sense. “God, what a night,” I said at last. “I hope this is all just some nightmare and I wake up in the morning and find that everything is okay.” I looked at Marshall and his eyes met mine. “That’s not going to happen, though, is it?” He slowly shook his head. “Let’s go to bed, Taylor,” he said through his tears. “Let’s just go to sleep and maybe things will seem better tomorrow.” I sincerely doubted anything would look better in the morning, but things could hardly look worse. I followed Marshall back to the village, and we lay side by side in his box. His presence was comforting and kept me from feeling completely alone, but he wasn’t Mark. The next morning dawned bleak and gray. I sent Marshall to ask Mark if he would come to breakfast with us, but he refused. Marshall did his best to act cheerful, but I could tell he had his own difficulties. We went to Denny’s, as we almost always did, and I had biscuits and gravy. I most often ordered the special, but I couldn’t eat the same thing day after day for weeks on end. Marshall ordered some kind of breakfast burrito thing. I didn’t think I could stomach salsa so early in the morning, but he seemed to enjoy it. “Would you like me to walk you to work?” asked Marshall after breakfast. “Thanks, but I’d just as soon be alone with my thoughts. I have a lot to think about. I appreciate the offer, though.” He nodded. “Here,” I said, handing Marshall some cash, “make sure Mark gets something to eat. Tell him you earned the money or something. I don’t think he’ll want it if it comes from me.” My time alone with my thoughts served little purpose, other than to depress me further. I merely rehashed the recent tragedies that had ruined my life. I felt doomed. My whole life was just one big disaster after another. I couldn’t even think about Mark. If I did so, I knew I’d break down in tears. My life was coming undone. Work was a blessing. It kept my mind occupied. I was too busy for self pity or recrimination. I slapped a fake smile on my face and pretended I was happy. The truth was, I doubted I’d ever be happy again. Without Mark…if he didn’t forgive me, all was lost. I would’ve begged him on my knees for forgiveness if I thought it would do any good.

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Days passed and nothing changed. I tried to speak to Mark a couple of times, but he just walked away from me. That in itself was enough to cause me pain, but the hurt expression on his face just before he turned away brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t bear knowing that I’d hurt the one I loved so badly that the mere sight of me caused him pain. I wondered how many people hurt those they loved without thinking. When I’d been unfaithful to Mark, I hadn’t even considered him. As soon as Stephanie began touching me, I forgot all about him. When she put her hands down my pants I was a goner. I cursed myself for being so weak, for giving in to physical pleasure that could only bring others pain. The night of my infidelity I’d hurt Mark, myself, and ultimately Stephanie, too. How much damage had I done for a few moments of pleasure? I wouldn’t have allowed things to go so far if I hadn’t been drunk. It was no excuse, but rather further evidence of my own weakness and stupidity. I should never have allowed myself to get into such a condition. I’d been inebriated only once in my life, and look what happened. If only I’d stopped to think about the consequences of my actions for a single moment. If I’d done so, I would have never cheated on Mark. I would have realized, too, that having sex with Stephanie could only hurt her in the long run. Sure, it’s what she wanted then, more than anything else, apparently, but the end result was her own destruction. I had no idea Mark and I would be outed or that Stephanie could get pregnant from that single, brief encounter, but by giving her what she wanted, I damned her. I felt so alone without Mark. He was near, but he might as well have been miles away. Marshall kept me company. He went out of his way to do so. The rest of the tribe was there, too, but without Mark it all seemed so empty. It might have been easier if I didn’t see him every single day, yet I wanted him close. The sight of him brought me pain, but I deserved that pain: It was a just punishment for my sins. Mark spent all his time with Nathan, trying to draw him out of his shell. I was jealous of Nathan. I couldn’t help it. I felt as if he’d replaced me, as if he’d become Mark’s new boyfriend. It was the worst when I saw them hug each other. There was Nathan, getting what I desired so badly. I began to resent him, then felt guilty for being so petty. Why shouldn’t Nathan reach out to Mark? He was the one link to his life in Verona, the one familiar face in an otherwise alien

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world. Nathan needed someone to be there for him, and Mark, loving soul that he was, did his best. I felt very small for being jealous. Nathan had been through something dreadful, something so horrifying it had taken away his ability to speak, perhaps permanently. Nathan had never seemed a happy boy in Verona, but he was far from the haunted, joyless specter we’d found on the streets in Indy. We made sure he ate well and was kept warm. He’d filled out a little, no longer looking quite so skeletal, but he still retained the dark circles around his eyes. He never smiled and had only recently begun to respond to the presence of others. What would’ve become of him if we hadn’t found him? I don’t know. I wondered if I might someday slip into silence like Nathan. With each passing day I felt depression gaining a firmer grip on me. There’d been so much tragedy and pain in my life, so much suffering and loss that I didn’t see how things could ever go back to the way they’d once been. How could I ever be happy? How could my life ever go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? I thought of Mark and me before we were outed, remembering us running on the soccer field, our hair flowing behind us. Those days were gone forever, and I knew I could never go back to being the boy I’d once been. When I wasn’t working, I spent my time wandering the streets of Indy—walking and thinking and trying to sort it all out. There was a time when I thought I understood things, but the world had grown larger, and everything had spun out of control. I’d been through so much and had made so many mistakes. Only the summer before, I would never have dreamed my life could change so drastically in such a short time. I worried about Marshall, as he worried about me. He often had tears welling in his eyes when he looked at me, as if it was his fault I’d sunk so low. I tried to smile for his sake, but it’s hard to fake happiness. It’s something you’ve got to feel inside for it to be real, and I didn’t feel it. Most often, I felt nothing at all, and when I did feel something, it was pain, sadness, and guilt. One evening, as I was sitting alone just outside the village, I heard someone walk up to me. I was staring at a sunset and didn’t even bother to look away. Marshall sat down beside me, but when I turned to look at him it wasn’t Marshall at all. It was Mark. He looked into my eyes, and I could read the pain and sadness there, so much torment it made me want to cry, but then he smiled sadly. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly. I didn’t speak. I bit my lip to hold back my tears. I closed my eyes, swallowed, and looked at Mark again.

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“I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered. A single sob escaped from my lips even as I fought to keep it in. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. His tone of voice didn’t suggest the direction he was about to take, but I waited for Mark to tell me he was sorry we’d ever met, that he was sorry he’d trusted one as unfaithful as I. What other words could come from his lips? “I should have been more understanding,” said Mark. “I should have been more forgiving, but, when you told me about Stephanie…you hurt me, Taylor. You hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt before. I’ve loved you with all my heart since the moment I laid eyes on you. You were so beautiful, so perfect, that I guess somewhere along the line I forgot you were human. I should have been more understanding, but it just scared me so much. What I’ve always feared the most is losing you, and I just felt like…I don’t know, that since you’d been with her it meant you might leave me for someone else. I guess I was jealous, too. You shared an intimacy with her that I thought was something you’d share with no one but me. I’m selfish. I want you all to myself.” “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you,” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I know what I did was very, very wrong and I swear I never meant for it to happen. If I’d thought about it for even a moment, I wouldn’t have let it happen. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and I know I’ve hurt you badly. I wish I could undo it and take away the pain, but I can’t change the past. All I can do is tell you I’m sorry and beg for your forgiveness.” “You don’t have to beg,” said Mark. “We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of, and we’ve all made mistakes. One of my mistakes was not being more understanding when you told me about Stephanie. I should have taken you in my arms and told you it was okay. Instead, I sought to punish you for what you’d done to me; only you didn’t do it to me. You made a mistake, that’s all. You had a moment of weakness, nothing more. Perhaps I would have even done the same, I don’t know, but I should have been there for you when you needed me so badly. I promise you, Taylor, that I’ll never make that mistake again. I’ll always be there for you when you need me.” I grabbed Mark and hugged him. I cried into his shoulder with relief. “I’ve missed you so much!” I said through my tears. “I thought I’d lost you forever. You’re more important to me than anything else, Mark, than anyone else!” “I love you,” said Mark, then he kissed me.

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I was never as happy as I was when Mark and I started sleeping together again, and I’m not just talking about the sex, although that was intense. It’s a wonder we didn’t set the sheets on fire our first time together after our fight. What brought me such joy was having Mark as a part of my life again and knowing that he loved me. I knew now that he’d always loved me, even when he was angry with me, and to be held once more in his arms was pure bliss. The days sailed by and soon summer was upon us. The bitter cold of winter was but a distant memory. Nathan remained silent, but he was more a part of the tribe now. He never smiled, but he sat with the rest of us when we were talking and even lent a hand with the few small chores there were to perform. He didn’t join in if we played soccer or some other game, but he did watch with some interest. That might not seem like much, but it was a vast improvement over his former morose, withdrawn demeanor. The rest of the tribe was in higher spirits than they’d ever been. Todd, Eduardo, Brooke, Ike, Mason, and Patti all came to life in the summer sun. Even Caleb chilled out a bit and seemed less suspicious that someone might be out to seduce Patti. Marshall brightened the moment Mark and I got back together, but he still often seemed as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I told him time and again that he wasn’t responsible for everything that happened, but he seemed not to believe me. I’d grown so accustomed to my short black hair that I knew I’d find my appearance shocking if I ever went back to my natural blond. I didn’t know if that would ever happen, however, for Mark and I were still wanted men and might well be for the rest of our lives. It wasn’t difficult to re-dye my hair now and then. If only the rest of our fugitive status were so easy to handle. The Hanson Café bustled with activity in the summer. Hugh said it was mainly the tourist crowd. I didn’t think there was that much in Indy to draw tourists, but I guess he knew what he was talking about. There was always a notable upswing in business whenever there was a concert at the Murat. Hugh often kept the café open late on concert nights to draw in a little extra business. I often wondered what had become of Chandler and Chase. I feared I knew all too well the fate of Chandler. I’d never know for sure, of course, but I was reasonably certain he’d come to a bad end. Not a day went by when I didn’t think of him and regret not going after him on that cold winter’s night. No one, except Chase, held me responsible for his disappearance, but I knew I’d never quite be

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able to forgive myself. I couldn’t help but think he would still be alive if I’d handled things differently.

BRENDAN—JUNE 1981 After more than a month of continuous travel, the novelty of it began to wear off. I wanted nothing more than to stop somewhere, anywhere, and stay right there forever. Sleeping in a different place each night was its own kind of excitement, but I was more than ready to give it up. Only the presence of Casper by my side made it bearable. Casper and I walked past a sign that read “VERONA” and soon came to a graveyard on the edge of town. We walked in and seated ourselves for a rest and a bit of lunch. It might seem an odd place for a picnic, but it was daytime, during school hours, and we didn’t want to arouse suspicions by being seen. Perhaps school was already out here, as it was the end of the first week in June, but we couldn’t take any chances. We could be alone in the cemetery, out of sight and mind among the weathered tombstones. Four slices of stale bread and a bit of peanut butter were all we had left. I scraped every last bit of peanut butter out of the jar and smeared it on the bread. The sandwiches were painfully thin and so was Casper, so I put most of the peanut butter on his without him knowing it. We’d been on short rations for quite some time, so we were accustomed to meager meals. Still, I could’ve done with more, and I know Casper felt the same. He didn’t say anything. My boyfriend was small and frail looking, but he faced hardship with courage and strength. I would’ve given anything to make his life easier. “Brendan, could we stay here?” “What, in the graveyard? I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to lie down and die just yet.” “Funny. You know what I mean—stay here in this town, like we did in Purity before. I’ll go anywhere you want, of course, but I’d like to find a place to settle down. I’m getting tired of just walking all day, every day.” - 425 -

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“I know what you mean. Our funds are short, too. We’ve got to find some work.” “How much have we got left?” asked Casper. I counted through what little money I still had in my pocket. It didn’t take long. “Eighty-seven cents,” I announced. Casper tried to hide his fear and sadness. “We’ll be okay, Casper. We’ve been in tough spots before. I’ll tell you what: Let’s stay here and rest up; then, when it’s late enough that school has let out, we’ll walk into town and see what we can find.” We finished our lunch, then lay down side by side and took a nap. It felt good to rest in the shade of the big cedar trees. I’d always loved to hike, but day after day of it for weeks on end had just plain worn me out, not to mention my shoes. In the last few weeks we’d covered well over two hundred miles. When I awoke, it felt like no time at all had passed, but it was nearing four in the afternoon. It was safe for us to walk into town. We left the graveyard and followed a street into the heart of Verona. It was a nice little town, with just a few restaurants and shops—not too big a town, but big enough to have something to offer. Everyone was friendly and said “hi” to us as we passed. I thought to myself that it was the kind of place I’d like to live. We didn’t pass a single “HELP WANTED” sign, so we went into the library and looked through the latest copy of the Verona Citizen. There wasn’t much to it. The front-page story was about the local baseball team defeating their longtime rivals. There wasn’t much to the classifieds either: not a single “help wanted” ad. “What are we going to do?” asked Casper. I smiled at him wanly, but I didn’t have an answer to his question. My stomach growled. Casper and I left the library and wandered around town a bit more. We passed by a theatre, The Paramount, and a restaurant called The Park’s Edge. The restaurant was aptly named, for it was situated right across from the park. The aroma of delicious Italian food wafted from somewhere around back, reminding me I was famished. My body had already burned right through my peanut-butter sandwich. Casper and I crossed over to the park and sat on one of the benches. It was a wonderful place with lots of flowers and beautiful trees—oaks, maples, dogwood, tulip, and pine. I could have enjoyed sitting there with Casper for a long time if I

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weren’t so desperately hungry. Knowing that Casper was hungry, too, was even worse. I could deal with my own pain far more easily than I could his. We rested there for a while, enjoying our surroundings, but the uncertainty of our lives dimmed our joy. I had to do something to make things better for Casper. We couldn’t go on like this. We were far away from my parents, his brother, and the Cloverdale Center, but we still weren’t safe. Casper’s brother had abused him and no doubt still would if he had the chance. I didn’t know if Jason was living or dead, and, even though I felt a little bad about it, I didn’t really care. My parents were no doubt still searching for me, seeking to force me back into the Cloverdale Center in a vain attempt to torture me into becoming a straight boy. They wouldn’t find us in Verona, however, or at least I hoped not. It was unlikely in any case. “Let’s find a grocery and get something to eat,” I said. “Do you think we should spend the rest of our money?” “What are we saving it for, a rainy day? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” “I am too, but what about tomorrow?” “We’ll figure that out when it comes.” Casper and I left the park and walked on. After several blocks, mostly filled with houses, we came to a little grocery store. We shopped carefully. We had only eighty-seven cents to our name and wanted to get the most we could for our money. I wished I could fill a whole cart full of food, but that was only a dream. Apples were on sale for a quarter each, so we both picked out the largest ones we could find. I felt a bit self-conscious because a guy about my age was watching us. Both Casper and I were a bit dirty, and our clothes were worn. I didn’t exactly like appearing in public in such a state, but it’s not like we had a choice. It had been a long time since either of us had had a proper bath. We washed off in streams, fountains, gas-station restrooms, and wherever we could, but it wasn’t the same as taking a good, hot shower. We spent another quarter on a chocolate-covered granola bar. I would have preferred a Hershey bar, but I figured the granola would keep us from starving a bit longer. I guess it didn’t make much difference. Our meager purchase wasn’t going to do much more than take the edge off our hunger. We paid for our food, which left us with less than a quarter between us. We devoured the apples right down to the core outside of the store and the cores we left were slim indeed. “I’m not hungry anymore; you take the granola bar,” I said to Casper.

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“Nice try, Brendan, but you’re taking half.” “No, really…” I said, lying. Casper had broken the bar in half by then. “Here, eat it or I’ll have to rough you up.” He giggled. “Okay, okay, I wouldn’t want that.” The chocolate and granola tasted like heaven on earth. It was amazing how delicious anything with a little sugar in it tasted. It was all too soon gone, however, leaving me hungry still. The boy who’d been watching us in the grocery came out carrying a small bag. He looked around as if searching for someone or something until his eyes came to rest on Casper and me. He stepped over to us. “Hey, guys.” “Hi.” “I’m Boothe, and you are?” “Brendan,” I said. “Casper.” “I noticed you guys shopping. You looked a little short of cash.” “Yeah,” I said, cautiously. “I’ve been there myself. You’re not from around here.” It was a statement, not a question. “No, we’re just passing through,” I said. “We were thinking of staying, but there don’t seem to be any jobs available.” “Welcome to Verona.” Boothe paused for a moment. “I might be able to provide you with some employment. I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you guys supper, and we can discuss it. If you’re not interested, that’s fine. If you are…well, then you’ll be able to make some cash.” Casper and I looked at each other uncertainly. My boyfriend looked as if he was thinking what I was thinking—that Boothe was probably involved with some shady business, like drug dealing or something. “Come on,” said Boothe, “you can at least hear me out. At the very least you can have a good supper. I’ll pay, no strings attached.” I looked at Casper. He had an expression that said it was up to me. My too-empty stomach decided for us. “Okay,” I said. “Cool. Hop in my truck.” We followed Boothe to a Ford pickup that looked like it had just rolled off the lot. I was a little leery of climbing in the truck with him, but I figured I could take him if he tried anything. Boothe looked to be about my age. He was slim

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and compact, but not very muscular. He had black hair and black eyes, tanned skin, and was good looking in his way—nothing compared to my boyfriend, of course, but I was a bit biased. I opened the passenger door and slid to the middle of the seat. Casper climbed in after me and shut the door. “New truck?” I asked. “I’ve only had her a month,” said Boothe proudly. “Nice,” I said. I remembered when I had my own car. It seemed ages ago. “Thanks.” Boothe drove us a short distance and pulled to a stop at a little restaurant just across from the park. I remembered seeing it as we walked to the grocery. It wasn’t far down the street from The Park’s Edge. The name on the outside said Ofarim’s. We followed Boothe inside and took a seat in a booth. A waitress brought us menus almost as soon as we sat down. The place was empty except for us, but it was getting past the usual hours for supper. The scent of burgers was making me ravenously hungry. “What can I get you boys to drink?” “A Coke for me,” said Boothe. He looked at us, encouraging us to order. “Same here,” I said. “Yeah, me, too,” said Casper. I felt almost silly as I sat there, because I was excited about getting to drink a Coke. It had been too long since I’d had one. “The burgers here are awesome,” said Boothe. “You guys order whatever you want, but I highly recommend the double bacon cheeseburger.” “That does sound good,” I said. “You won’t be sorry.” The waitress returned soon with our drinks. Boothe ordered his own recommendation with a large order of fries, and both Casper and I ordered the same. Boothe took a sip of his Coke, then spoke. “I’ll tell you right up front that my business isn’t strictly legal. It doesn’t hurt anyone, but I can’t draw attention to myself, so I can hardly put an ad in the paper looking for help.” I’d suspected as much. I’d feared he was a drug dealer, but if his business didn’t hurt people, he couldn’t be selling drugs. I was relieved; that’s something I didn’t want to get into, and I sure didn’t want Casper involved with anything like that, either. “So what is it you do?” I asked.

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“You might say I’m a treasure hunter, but most people would call me a grave robber.” “You mean you steal stuff out of people’s graves?” asked Casper, his mouth falling open. “I prefer to think of it as reclaiming abandoned property, but yes.” Casper looked at me, horrified. “Listen,” said Boothe, “what I do isn’t all that different from what an archaeologist does. They dig up graves and take what they find all the time. The only difference is I work with more recent graves and sell what I find for cash rather than sticking it in a museum where it just collects dust and does no one any good.” Our food arrived just then, amazingly quickly, so we had to cease talking until our waitress departed. I squirted ketchup onto my hamburger and beside my fries and dug in. Perhaps it was because I was famished, but it just might have been the best burger ever. The fries were awesome, too, especially after I’d sprinkled on a little salt. “So what would you want us to do?” I was nearly afraid to ask, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear his answer while I was eating. “Dig mainly, but also help me pry up and move the lid off the vault. Don’t worry; I’ll handle actually getting into the casket. It doesn’t bother me. I usually hit the really old graves and sometimes the very recent. I try to avoid the ones that might be…squishy.” Casper wrinkled his nose, and I didn’t blame him. I quickly pushed aside the images that struggled to form in my mind. “I guess it would take a lot of digging,” I said. “Oh yeah. That’s one reason I’m interested in you; you look like you’ve got plenty of muscle.” Boothe’s eyes lingered on my chest for a few moments, then he looked back into my eyes. “It can take a few hours to dig out a grave; then it has to be refilled when we’re done. I can’t afford to have anyone catch on to what I’m doing.” “I can imagine. So what does this job pay?” “I’ll give you guys fifty bucks for each grave we open; that’s fifty total, not each. Some graves we can be in and out of in three or four hours; others can take eight. The pay’s the same no matter how long it takes, but I’ll pay you whether or not I find something of value. Sometimes I make quite a haul; sometimes it’s not worth the effort.” “Fifty, huh?” I said, mulling it over.

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“It’s hard work, but it’s also the best pay you’ll find around here. As you’ve already noticed, there aren’t many jobs, and you’d be looking at minimum wage even if you managed to find one, which you won’t. If you’re not interested in my offer, I do have an acquaintance that would probably be interested in you. I’d rather hire you myself, but he’ll give me a finder’s fee for bringing you to him. He’s always on the lookout for good looking, young guys. I doubt you’d like the work, though.” I didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Just what would this other work be?” “Selling your ass on the street corner.” “You mean, like, prostitution?” asked Casper, clearly shocked. “Here, in this little town?” “There’s a bigger market that you might expect,” said Boothe. “Nasty,” said Casper with complete disgust. Casper’s reaction hit me like a slap in the face. I tried to hide my feelings, but my face blanched. I hid myself behind my double cheeseburger while I regained my composure. Unwanted memories flooded my mind of what I’d had to do to survive a few months before. I banished the thoughts and returned my attention to our discussion. Boothe was gazing at me as if he caught my expression of remorse and guilt. I turned to Casper. “What do you think?” I asked. “We’ve got to eat,” he said timidly. “How often do you do this?” I asked Boothe. “Usually once a week or so; I have to keep a low profile. If I come up empty-handed, I do it a bit more often.” Casper and I could get by on fifty dollars a week. It’s more than we usually had, that was for sure. It wouldn’t get us a place to stay, but it was warm out and maybe we could find shelter somewhere. “We can at least give it a try for a night,” I said, none too enthused. “Great,” said Booth. “Since you guys are hard up, we’ll hit a grave tonight.” I felt a bit nervous as we continued to eat. I wasn’t happy about the situation, but as Casper said, we had to eat. The alternative was even less appetizing than digging up graves. It was just digging, after all; it wasn’t like we’d be robbing graves ourselves. I wasn’t happy about being an accessory to a crime, but at least it was one that didn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn’t harm someone else for cash, no matter how desperate the situation. When we finished supper, I felt full for the first time in a long time. Boothe told us to meet him out in front of Ofarim’s at 9:30 p.m., which gave us some

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time to waste. The light was already failing, so Casper and I did a bit of exploring, seeking out a place to stay for the night. “So what do you think?” I asked as we walked across the street to the park. “I don’t like it, but we don’t have much choice.” “Scared?” “Not of being in a cemetery, but digging up a corpse is another matter. I used to spend a whole lot of time in the cemetery at home, to be with my mom. While we were in there talking to Boothe, I just kept thinking about how I’d feel if someone dug Mom up.” “That’s not going to happen.” “I know, but…we’re going to be digging up dead people. How would you feel if someone you cared about got dug up?” “I know, Casper, but what else can we do?” He didn’t answer, for there was no answer. We had three choices—starve, rob graves, or sell ourselves on the street. Our choice was the lesser of three evils. “We’ll get through this, Casper. We’ll keep looking for jobs. If even one of us finds something for minimum wage, we’ll give up the job with Boothe on the spot. This is just temporary.” “Yeah, we always make it, don’t we, Brendan?” “We sure do.” I suddenly wished we were alone so I could hold Casper in my arms and kiss him. Physically, he was a lot smaller than I was, but he’d never know how much I depended on him. I don’t think I could have survived without his companionship and love. We walked through the park and found a trail leading away from it through the woods. We follow it a short distance, but it was already too dark under the trees for us to see much. We wouldn’t find a place to spend the night searching in the darkness. The shadows had their uses, however; I stopped, turned to Casper and held him tightly. “I love you, Brendan.” Ah, those were the words I loved to hear most. “And I love you.” Casper looked up at me. I leaned down and kissed his soft lips. We stood there, concealed from prying eyes by the trees, and made out until we’d lost all track of time. When we reluctantly parted at last, we returned to the park and rested until it was time to meet Boothe. We crossed the street just before 9:30, and Boothe pulled up in his truck soon after.

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“Okay, now,” said Boothe, pulling away from the curb. “I probably don’t have to tell you guys that secrecy is a must. We have to keep it quiet while we’re working, although there is rarely anyone around. We also have to keep the use of lights to a minimum. I prefer to work by moonlight as much as possible. Once we get down into the grave a few feet, we can risk a light, but it always has to be pointed down in the grave so it won’t show from a distance, got it?” “Got it,” we both said. “Okay, that’s pretty much it. I’ll explain the rest when we get there.” Getting there didn’t take long at all. We found ourselves on the edge of the cemetery we’d visited earlier in the day. Boothe parked around the back side, handed out shovels and other tools, then led us quietly into the cemetery. I think I was more frightened than Casper; but then, he was more accustomed to hiding out in graveyards. Back in Kentucky, I knew he hid from the terrible trio in the cemetery. It was kind of funny that those bullies were afraid of entering a graveyard. We stopped after crossing perhaps half the cemetery. We were surrounded by tombstones, mausoleums, and ancient trees. The cemetery was a freaky place in the darkness. “Here’s our grave for tonight,” said Boothe. “It’s recent, only a few months old, but I happen to know it’s got something valuable in it. Okay, start digging. Put the dirt on this tarp.” With a shiver, I pushed my shovel into the ground and dumped the first shovel-full of earth onto the tarp. Every zombie movie I’d ever watched came back to haunt me. I had an irrational fear that a hand was going to reach up out of the grave, grab my ankle, and pull me in kicking and screaming. I felt a sense of panic rise in my chest, but I fought it down. This wasn’t a movie. This was real life. The dead remained dead. I lost myself in the digging. The physical effort helped me to clear my mind of wild fears. I couldn’t help but think about the fact that I was getting nearer and nearer to a casket, but, as I’d just started, there were still several feet of earth between me and the coffin. I was out of shape. I hadn’t worked out in forever. I didn’t have my old muscle tone, but at least I had the muscle itself. I wasn’t in tiptop form, but I was still strong. I kept digging. I knew I’d need to do most of it. Casper was a good worker, but he wasn’t all that strong. I dug until I just couldn’t anymore, then let Casper have a go at it. “You know, I knew the kid who’s buried here,” said Boothe after several minutes of sweaty silence.

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“Kid?” asked Casper. “Yeah, he was sixteen. I went to school with him until last fall. I don’t often dig up someone I knew, but we weren’t friends, and he was buried with his grandfather’s watch. The thing is gold, worth a fortune. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day, and I’ve been coming up dry far too often lately.” “How do you know he was buried with it?” I asked. “I was at the funeral. I made sure it was there before they closed the lid on his coffin for the last time. I’d hoped to lift it before they buried him, but I didn’t have the chance. Too damn many people around.” “Do you do that often: check out funerals to see what you can get?” I asked, hiding the disgust I felt. “Oh, yeah, as much as I can without drawing attention to myself; it saves a hell of a lot of digging. I keep a list of who has something worthwhile buried with them and who doesn’t.” “I guess that would make sense.” “All part of the business.” I almost couldn’t believe I was talking to a grave robber, much less working for him. I’d read about grave robbers in the past, but I didn’t know anyone was still in the business. I guess I hadn’t given it much thought. I was definitely not pleased to be hanging out with Boothe. There was something inherently dislikable about him. I wasn’t going to leave Casper alone with him for a second. Who knew what Boothe was capable of pulling? A few minutes later, I hopped down in the hole and took the shovel from Casper. I couldn’t see him clearly, but he was breathing hard. “So you knew this guy?” I asked. I still couldn’t quite believe anyone would exhume the body of someone they actually knew, not even a grave robber. I guess I had a lot to learn, or maybe Boothe was just pure scum. “Oh, yeah. Like I said, we weren’t friends, but I knew him and talked to him some. He wouldn’t have much to do with me. Him and his soccer buddies thought they were too good for me. The joke was on him, though; one of them killed him.” “He was murdered?” “Yeah, by one of his so-called friends. You’re not from around here, so you wouldn’t know, but late last year a couple of faggots went on a little killing spree. They murdered old Jon here and another kid, then skipped town.” “Do you mean the murderers were gay, or are you just calling them faggots?” I asked.

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“Oh, they were fags, all right. Get this, they got caught butt-fucking by one of their parents. Can you believe it? Anyway, everyone knew they were cocksuckers. One of the boys they killed was a real jerk. He was on their asses all the time on account of them being queers, so it’s no big surprised they iced him. This one here, though,” said Boothe, pointing down into the grave, “was supposed to be one of their friends. Hell, I even suspected he was taking it up the ass, too. Maybe he was and they had some kind of lover’s spat or something. Or maybe it was one of those ménages à trois gone wrong. Anyway, they killed him—stabbed him right in front of witnesses. For a while there, we really had something to talk about here in Verona. Of course, now everyone hates faggots with a vengeance, not that they liked them too much before that.” A shiver of fear passed through my body. Apparently, Casper and I had come to a very dangerous place. Perhaps stopping here hadn’t been such a good idea after all. There was no reason to fear discovery, though, not if we kept a low profile. We kept digging. Mostly it was Casper and me, but Boothe took a turn now and then, too. Fifty dollars might sound like a lot for digging out a grave, but it was damned hard work. Boothe was getting his money’s worth from us for sure, especially when you consider that Casper and I were both working. If this turned out to be one of those eight-hour excavations, then we weren’t making much. At five bucks an hour, with two of us putting in eight hours, it would add up to eighty bucks, so we were making well under minimum wage for hard, illegal work that would leave us both with a feeling of guilt. Time dragged by as we dug deeper and deeper. We had to climb in and out of the hole with a rope ladder. At last my shovel hit concrete and I cleared off the top of a large crypt. Boothe handed down heavy steel pry poles and together we hefted the cover off. I wondered how Boothe had managed such a feat by himself, as the cover seemed to weigh a ton. I climbed out of the hole while Booth leaned down to open the lid of the casket. I couldn’t help but watch, and neither could Casper. We were morbidly curious about what a boy who’d been buried for a few months might look like. Boothe opened the lid, and Casper gripped my arm. The boy in the casket was indeed about sixteen. He looked like he was just sleeping. He wasn’t rotting or even moldy. I guessed that decomposition hadn’t had a chance to set in yet in the sealed crypt. The boy was good looking and had black hair. He looked like an athlete. He looked slightly blue, but it could have been a trick of the light. We didn’t get a long look, because it didn’t take long for Boothe to find what he was

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looking for. He closed the casket lid and called me to come down in the hole with him again. “Here it is,” he said, proudly displaying the gold watch. I couldn’t help but think of the grandfather who would go on thinking his family heirloom was buried with his grandson. What we were doing wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. “I also got a class ring,” said Boothe. He started laughing. “I’m going to sell it to one of Jon’s soccer buddies. He’ll never know.” Boothe truly disgusted me. We used the pry bars to move the cover back into place, then climbed up the ladder. I began to shovel the dirt back in while Boothe carried his prizes back to the truck. It was a good deal easier putting the dirt back in than it had been to take it out. Before long, Casper and I had filled in the hole. When we’d finished, Boothe carefully raked the disturbed grave. A good rain would erase all evidence that it had been violated. We walked back to the truck and climbed in. Boothe handed me two twenties and a ten. “There you go. You can buy plenty of food with that. You guys have a place to sleep?” “No,” I answered. “You can stay with me tonight; just don’t fuck with my stuff. If anything comes up missing, I won’t be happy.” “We don’t steal,” said Casper. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of staying with Boothe, but we’d be better off than we would outside, especially if it rained. Chances were, we could clean ourselves up, too. I was tired of my oily hair and smelly body. Casper and I definitely needed to invest in some deodorant. Boothe drove us to a tiny house in what was obviously not one of the better neighborhoods of Verona. When he flipped on a lamp, the light revealed a small living room, a small kitchen separated from the living room by only a counter, and two doors leading to what I assumed was a bedroom and bathroom. That was it. There were beer cans and mostly empty bags of potato chips on the floor as well as dirty clothes and old magazines. A small portable TV sat on a rickety end table. There was a mostly worn-out recliner and a sofa that looked like it was ready to collapse. It looked as if Boothe put all his money into his truck. “The sofa folds out into a bed. You guys can sleep there. I’m afraid I don’t have any extra sheets.” “It’s way better than what we’re used to,” I said.

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“I bet.” “Let me grab a shower, then you guys can clean up. I’m sure you’ll want to.” He wasn’t kidding. Several hours of digging had left Casper and me sticky and dirty. I didn’t realize just how dirt-covered we were until Boothe had turned on the light. As decrepit as it was, I avoided sitting down on his furniture for fear of getting it muddy. Boothe disappeared through the door and left Casper and me standing alone. When I heard the sound of the shower running, I stepped to Casper and hugged him tightly. “We’ll be okay, Casper. We have fifty bucks now. Maybe we can turn up something better before we run out of cash.” “That kid…in the grave…I got this weird feeling about him. It was like I knew him, or was supposed to know him or something,” said Casper. “This whole thing gives me the creeps.” “I know, Babe, but it’s only temporary. Tomorrow, we’ll go out and buy ourselves a huge breakfast!” Casper brightened at the prospect. “With pancakes and syrup and bacon!” he said. “And eggs and hash browns! Mmmm.” Casper smiled. It had been far too long since I’d seen evidence of happiness on his face. Boothe came out of the bedroom wearing only jeans. He wasn’t built, but he had a firm build and looked stronger than I’d at first suspected. I let Casper have a turn at the shower next. “I usually don’t get up before noon,” said Boothe. “You guys can just let yourselves out whenever you get up. I’ll look for you around town when I need you again, but if you don’t see me, come back here in a week.” “Okay.” Boothe turned on the TV and mostly ignored me, except for an occasional glance in my direction. Boothe made me feel uncomfortable, so I was relieved when Casper came out of the shower. My boyfriend had changed into clean clothes and looked squeaky clean. I couldn’t wait to get the sweat and grime off my body. I felt plain nasty. I grabbed my backpack and walked into the bathroom. It was small, like the rest of the house, but not that much smaller than most bathrooms. There was no tub, just a shower stall, but that was fine by me. I tossed my backpack into a corner, stripped, and stepped into the shower after adjusting the temperature. I released a sigh of contentment as the wonderfully warm water hit my body.

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My hair was so oily that it killed the lather of the shampoo the moment I worked it in. I rinsed and put on more shampoo. Boy, it was going to feel good to be clean. I soaped up a washcloth and rubbed it all over myself, luxuriating in the soapy, smooth sensation. I was shocked when the shower curtain was suddenly jerked back. It was Boothe, holding a towel. “I’ll leave you a towel here on the toilet,” he said. His eyes roved down my naked body, making me uncomfortable. He nodded and closed the curtain again. I pushed the incident out of my mind and finished my shower. When I stepped out I felt better than I had in days. I pulled clean clothes out of my backpack and dressed. I felt like an actual human being again. I returned to the living room and joined Casper. In my absence, he’d pulled out the couch and was already lying on the bed fast asleep. Boothe was still watching TV. It was in the wee hours of the morning and I was exhausted, so I pulled off my shirt and jeans and lay down beside Casper. I was asleep before I knew it.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 It was only half past ten when my bedroom door burst open and Ken Clark rushed in. His breath came in gasps and tears streamed down his cheeks. I was shocked, as we’d spoken not a word in all the time I’d been in this reality. I’d been reading in bed. Seth and Avery had both been lying across his bed playing video games, but now Ken had our full attention. “You’d better come, Sean,” he said, fighting back sobs. “What’s happened?” Ken started to tell me, but became so choked up he couldn’t get the words out. “You’d better come,” he repeated. I quickly hopped up and put on my shoes. “It must be some big, homo emergency. So, is he a fag, too?” Avery asked Seth, nodding toward Ken. Avery had been living with us for a week, but it seemed an eternity. I’d never known anyone so hateful and foul. Even the Avery from my own reality was delightful by comparison. Ken ignored both Avery and Seth. He was far too upset to even take notice. I followed Ken down the stairs and out the door. The evil pair who shared my room said nothing more. They just stared after us. “Sean! Sean, where are you going?” called my mother after me. “I’ll be back later!” I yelled and kept right on going. Ken led me at a run. We neared my old home, the Graymoor Mansion, now a blackened ruin, and I could see red and blue lights flashing. “What’s going on?” I asked Ken. He couldn’t make the words come. Instead, he pointed. I rushed toward the small crowd that had gathered near the gates, peering in but not entering, as if afraid they’d be struck dead if they approached the old mansion too closely. A police car and ambulance sat near the gates, lights flashing. I pushed my way forward through the crowd. Everyone was looking in the - 439 -

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direction of a large tree in the front yard. Two men in uniforms were carrying a ladder toward the tree, and a couple more were carrying a stretcher. I pushed my way past the gate and walked quickly toward them. I was almost to the tree before two officers spotted me. “Son, you’d better stay back.” I heeded their words not at all for I was looking up, staring at the lifeless form of my boyfriend. A hoarse cry erupted from deep inside me. At that moment, my life lost all meaning. “It looks like he hanged himself,” said one of the officers to the other. No! I thought to myself. He wouldn’t have! He couldn’t have! Marty would not have done that to me! I could plainly see the noose around Marty’s neck, his head cocked much too far to one side. There were paramedics there, but he was already dead; I just knew it. I also knew Marty hadn’t killed himself. Oliver had been lynched, so had Skye, and now… One of the officers pushed me back a short distance, and I just stood there, shivering in the chill of the night, tears flowing from my eyes. A sense of non-reality had enveloped me. It was like being inside a nightmare, but I knew it was only too real. I fought back a scream as I watched them cut Marty down and lay his body gently upon a stretcher. The paramedics checked his pulse and listened to his heart. “He’s dead,” said one of them, “probably killed instantly.” I thanked God for that small mercy at least. “He didn’t kill himself,” said one of the paramedics, “look at this.” I leaned forward to get a better view and wished I hadn’t. Marty was wearing no shirt under his flannel shirt, and as it was pushed back I could see clearly. Someone had written “FAGGOT” on his chest with a thick black marker. I broke down and bawled like a baby, my anguished cries cutting through the darkness like the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. Someone wrapped their arms around me. I blinked away tears until I could make out Zoë. “They killed him,” I croaked. “They killed him!” I completely lost it then, and Zoë and I cried on each other’s shoulders. Sobs racked my body. I didn’t even sound human. My worst nightmare had come true. I’d lost Marty—again.

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I don’t know how long Zoë and I held each other and cried. It could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours for all I knew. When I wiped the tears from my eyes at last, Marty’s body was being carried away on a stretcher, zipped up in a black bag. “I’ll never get the image of him hanging there out of my mind,” I said, tears still leaking out of my eyes. “No matter how long I live, I’ll never be able to forget it.” Zoë hugged me close. Ken cautiously advanced and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I know what Marty meant to you. I hope I…did the right thing in bringing you here. I called Zoë before I came to get you. I thought…I don’t know…maybe it would’ve been best if…” “No,” I said, leaving Zoë’s embrace. “It would have been easier just hearing about it, but I think I needed to see. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you or not, but you did the right thing, Ken. Thank you.” He smiled sadly. “Do you have any idea who did this?” I asked. “No,” said Ken. “I was out walking and thinking. I do that a lot. I heard a woman scream when I was maybe a block away. I came running, and this woman and her husband were shining a flashlight through the gates. I saw Marty hanging there. They ran to call the police, and I ran to call Zoë and get you. I don’t know what happened. He was already dead when I laid eyes on him. I’m so sorry, Sean. If there’s anything I can do…” “Thank you,” I said, grabbing his forearm and looking into his eyes. “I’m going to go home now. It’s been a disturbing night,” said Ken. “Good night, Ken.” “Let’s get away from here,” said Zoë, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me away. We walked toward my home. I felt as if I was trapped in one of my nightmares. “I dreamed this,” I said suddenly, remembering. “You dreamed it?” “Yes. I have nightmares every night, and this was one of them. My nightmare came true—literally.” “That’s scary.”

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“More than you know. If my dreams start coming true…” “It’s a coincidence, Sean, a horrible coincidence.” “I hope so, although I guess it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. I just want to die.” I could feel another sob fighting its way up my throat, but I forced it down. “Don’t say that, Sean.” “It’s the truth. I hate my life here. There were only two good things about it— you and Marty.” “I’m still here.” “I know. If you weren’t, I think I’d kill myself right now.” “Sean, you’re scaring me.” “I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.” “Let’s get you home and we’ll talk, okay?” I let Zoë lead me. I knew she was grief-stricken, too, but she was much stronger than I was. Zoë took me home. My mother opened the door as we walked toward it. When she caught sight of our tear-stained faces, her own paled. “Sean, where have you been? What’s happened?” “Marty’s dead,” said Zoë, so I wouldn’t have to. Mom covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were filled with sympathy. Zoë pushed me toward the kitchen. Mom followed, but obviously had no idea what to do. “If it’s okay, Mrs. Jassen, we’d just like to sit up and talk.” “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. If there’s anything you need, I’ll be right upstairs. If you’d like to stay the night…” “Thank you,” said Zoë. Mom departed, leaving us alone. Zoë pulled two Diet Cokes from the refrigerator and put one down in front of me. I broke down and started crying again. Zoë hugged me from behind and mussed my hair. “We’ll get through this together,” she said softly and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t believe how strong she was. She’d been friends with Marty for years. I knew she was all torn up inside, but somehow she was able to be there for me when I needed her the most. “I can’t stand losing him again,” I said staring at the kitchen wall. “I can’t go through this again.” Zoë let me cry for a while and did some of her own. When I’d quieted down, she took a seat across the table from me, and we both sipped our Cokes. “I knew we were in danger. I knew we could end up like Oliver, but I didn’t really think…I didn’t really believe it would happen to us.”

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“At least he’s free now,” said Zoë. “At least they can’t hurt him anymore.” “If I ever find out who did this, I’ll kill them,” I said. “I don’t think we’ll ever know.” “I’m sure that’s true. No one in this town cares when a gay boy is killed. They hate us that much.” “I’m sorry, Sean.” “I wish more people were like you. What are we going to do now, Zoë?” “We’re going to go on living. There’s nothing else we can do.” “I don’t know. I just…You’re all I’ve got now, Zoë, do you know that? Everything is different here, even my mom. She was so accepting where I came from, but here she’s in denial. She’s created this whole little world in her head where I’m straight and you and I are dating.” “People have trouble dealing with things, Sean. Maybe it’s not really her fault. Think of all the lies that are spread about gays. There are people out there who try to make loving someone of your own sex sound foul and disgusting. I’m sure your mom loves you and wants the best for you. That’s why she can’t stand the idea that you’re gay. She doesn’t want you to go through that.” “Well, I think this should tell her what I am going through,” I said, pointing to my bruised and battered face. “You know, as long as I had Marty, I was willing to endure it all. He was worth it. Just being in his arms and knowing that he loved me was worth the beatings, the verbal abuse—all of it—but now they’ve taken him away from me. They…” I began to sob again when I thought about what they’d done to him. I hoped it hadn’t lasted long. I couldn’t even bear to think about it. “I know, baby, I know.” Zoë and I sat there, staring into nothingness. My world was empty. Marty was gone and with him went all joy. I understood fully why Mark chose to follow Taylor in death. There was nothing left to live for when the one you loved was gone. “We should get some sleep,” said Zoë. “I think it’s best if we go to school tomorrow. We both need to keep ourselves busy.” I nodded. I was lost, so I was more than willing to follow her lead. I followed Zoë upstairs. She motioned me into the bathroom where we dug through the medicine cabinet. She took out a bottle of sleeping pills, tipped two of them into her hand, and passed them to me. “Take these.”

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I did as I was told. I noticed she slipped the bottle with the remainder of the sleeping pills into her pocket. I guess she feared I wouldn’t be able to deal with Marty’s death and would do something stupid. Maybe she was right. Zoë led me into my bedroom where she helped me undress. The pills hadn’t taken effect yet, but I was in a sort of daze. It was as if my surroundings weren’t quite real. Maybe it was my mind’s defense against what’d happened. “I wonder what Seth would think if he woke up just now,” said Zoë. I nearly smiled with the thought. “We’ll probably get to see him freak out in the morning,” I said, “perhaps Avery, too.” I stripped to my boxers and climbed into bed. Zoë took off her shoes and the sweatshirt she’d been wearing and climbed in beside me. I was comforted by her presence. The pills did their work, and I actually fell asleep on what I’d anticipated would be a sleepless night.

TAYLOR—LATE JUNE 1981 My steps slowed as I neared the village. I felt all the color drain from my face as I stood there. Everyone was crying—everyone, even Nathan. Marshall was bawling his eyes out. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I suddenly felt as if an icy hand was clutching for my soul. I looked for Mark, but he wasn’t there. “Marshall, what’s wrong?” I asked as I walked toward him. He didn’t answer, just bawled harder. “Ike? Todd? Mason?” As each of them looked at me in fear, panic rose in my heart. Abject terror descended upon me, but I wouldn’t let myself think the thought that was trying to take shape in my mind. “Marshall, please!” I said, taking him by the chin and making him look into my eyes. “It’s all my fault—my fault!” stammered Marshall before breaking into a fresh fit of sobbing. “What are you talking about, Marshall? Tell me!” “Mark’s dead,” he said and cried even harder. My heart nearly stopped. Misery as I’d never known it engulfed me, and I sank to my knees. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn’t cry yet. My mind reeled from the shock. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t! This wasn’t supposed to happen. I knew it in my heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen! I lost it slowly. Tears began to flow from my eyes, then the sobs came—great racking sobs from deep inside my chest. Marshall kneeled in front of me, pulled me to him, and I truly lost control. I bawled my eyes out on his shoulder, my cries anguished, as if they came not from a human but from a wild animal. I don’t remember the next few minutes after that, other than my sobbing and the cries of those around me. My mind was entirely consumed with misery and

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grief. It was a good long while before I had a lucid thought. It was longer still before I could bring myself to ask Marshall what had happened. “It was quick, Taylor,” said Marshall quietly. “We were walking home together, talking and laughing. We looked up and there was Chase.” “Chase?” “Yeah. He just stood there and stared at Mark with cold, hard eyes, then it all happened so fast…Chase pulled out a gun. I tried to stop him, but he kicked me where it counts, and I went down. Before I could even begin to get back up, Chased yelled, ‘My little brother is dead because of you, faggot,’ and shot Mark in the heart three times. He died instantly, I’m sure. Chase turned the gun on me for a second. I thought he was going to kill me next, but he turned and ran off. The whole thing lasted less than a minute.” “Are you sure he’s dead?” I asked, still sobbing. “Yes, Taylor, I’m sure. As Chase ran away I rushed to Mark and checked his pulse. He was gone. I went to a payphone and called for an ambulance just in case. I hid and watched them when they came. I heard them say he was dead. I’m so sorry, Taylor.” I buried my head in my hands and cried, just cried. All that remained of our tribe stood around me, watching me, trying to comfort me, but there was no comfort. Nothing would ever be okay again. Later that night, I sat on the grass a little distance away from the village, trying to peer at the stars that were mostly obscured by the city lights. Tears still flowed from my eyes, and my heart ached: It was broken. The only one who’d ever truly loved me was gone. I turned my head at the sound of footsteps. It was Nathan. His eyes were filled with tears, too. Mark had been his protector and his friend. He shared my grief. I was surprised when Nathan sat directly in front of me, facing me. He even cautiously reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. Until that very moment he’d kept us all at arm’s length—everyone except for Mark, of course. He peered into my eyes. Hesitantly and with great difficulty he spoke. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” I just stared at him for a few moments, my mouth partly open. Those were the first words he’d uttered since we’d found him all those weeks ago. Nathan began to sob, and he surprised me yet again by hugging me as he’d hugged Mark. We cried upon each other’s shoulder. When our sobs quieted, Nathan sat back and peered into my eyes again. He actually tried to smile, but couldn’t manage it.

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“It’s hardest at first,” he said, his words halting. It was almost as if he’d forgotten how to speak and was learning all over again. “The pain never goes away, but it gets easier.” I considered my next words carefully before uttering them. I didn’t want to destroy the progress Nathan had made. It seemed the right time to talk about it, however, and so I took a chance. “Nathan, did something happen to your little brother?” He stiffened and immediately began to cry again. Tears flowed down his cheeks even as he tried to wipe them away. “I talked to Brandon on the phone. He said Dave was with you when you left Verona, but when we found you, you were alone. What happened, Nathan?” “Bad things,” he hoarsely whispered, “many, many, very bad things and then…” Nathan began to shudder and weep. It was a good long time before he could manage to continue. “And then…we were waiting to cross a street. There were so many cars and so much noise. I looked away for just a moment; then I heard the tires squeal…” Nathan sobbed some more. “I…I looked back around just in time to see…” there was another long, sob filled pause “…a big truck hit him. It was as if he just disappeared. It just took him away, and when it stopped…he was dead. I wasn’t paying enough attention. I should have been watching him. He was my little brother, and now he’s dead.” Nathan collapsed into tears. I held him and petted his hair as he cried. His tears brought my own back, and we cried for his little brother, and for Mark. We cried for I don’t know how long. I couldn’t bear the loss of Mark. I couldn’t bear the suffering of little Nathan. All that time he’d been silent; all the time he couldn’t or refused to speak, he’d been tormented with guilt. His little brother had been killed right before his eyes, and he blamed himself. “Nathan,” I said at last. “Nathan, it wasn’t your fault.” Nathan just cried harder, and I held him. I wished I could take all his pain away. ✶

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I couldn’t sleep that night, but Nathan drifted off beside me. Since Mark and I had gotten back together, we’d all slept near each other, although until this night Mark had slept between us. Now Mark was gone, and Nathan had no one left but me. I slipped away as Nathan slept, his chest gently rising and falling. I hoped he could find the peace in his sleep he could not in waking life. I pitied him. I didn’t

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know the horrors he’d experienced on his journey, but the final horror was a nightmare beyond belief. I walked a short distance away from the village. My mind was numb. Perhaps it had gone that way to spare me from the unbearable pain. For the moment, I felt almost emotionless, as if all my feelings had simply shut down. It was as if I was dead inside, and perhaps I was. It was better than the grief. “Taylor?” I turned. Marshall approached, gliding across the grass almost silently. “Would you like some company?” “Yeah,” I said quietly. “You couldn’t sleep, either?” “No,” said Marshall. “When I close my eyes, I see it all happen again.” “I’m sorry,” I said. Marshall sat near me. “How are you holding up? That’s what people say when something like this happens, isn’t it?” “I exist,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Taylor.” I looked into Marshall’s eyes. I read more than grief there; I read torment. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” I said. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the coming days. I don’t know if I want to. Without Mark, nothing seems to matter any more.” “I’m here for you, Taylor.” My tears came back just then along with a feeling of great sadness. Marshall put his arm around my shoulder. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.

BRENDAN—LATE JUNE 1981 It was close to noon when I awakened. Casper was still snoozing beside me. He must have been worn out. I tried not to disturb him, but he awakened as I climbed out of bed and began to dress. “Good morning,” he said, stretching. “Good morning, barely,” I said. Casper looked at the clock. There was no sign of Boothe. I assumed he was still sleeping in his bedroom. The door was closed. I folded the bed back into a couch while Casper dressed. We risked a hug and a kiss. Before leaving we took advantage of our time in Boothe’s house. I shaved and brushed my teeth. Casper just brushed his teeth, as he didn’t have much need to shave yet. We gathered our things and quietly departed. “I’m glad to be out of there,” said Casper. “Boothe gives me the creeps.” “I couldn’t agree more, but I can’t help but be thankful for the chance to get cleaned up and to sleep inside for once.” “So what’s first on our agenda for today?” “You have to ask? Breakfast!” Casper and I walked downtown. The day was sunny, and a warm wind blew through our hair. It was quite a contrast to our dark doings of the night before. I banished the image of the dead boy lying in his coffin as soon as it entered my head and said nothing about it to Casper. All I wanted to remember about the previous night was the fifty bucks in my pocket. We found a restaurant called Café Moffatt that looked like it might serve a good breakfast. As soon as we stepped inside, the scent of pancakes and bacon wafted toward us. Casper grinned. We took a seat in a booth, and a waitress brought us menus and ice water. I looked around at the inside of the café for a moment. It was done up in old - 449 -

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Verona memorabilia—V.H.S. letter jackets, old trophies, photos, and more. I loved the nostalgic ambiance, even though I’d grown up hundreds of miles away in Kentucky. “Look at this,” said Casper. He pointed to the breakfast area of the menu. “The Moffatt breakfast comes with pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, bacon, and sausage for just $3.99.” “Wow, that’s cheap,” I said. “I know what I’m ordering.” “Me, too.” When our waitress returned, I ordered mine with hot tea and Casper got his with chocolate milk. We both sat there so excitedly anticipating our breakfast that I burst out laughing. “What?” asked Casper. “I was just laughing at us, sitting here smiling, so excited over something as simple as breakfast.” “A huge breakfast!” said Casper. “Besides, when you’re happy, who cares why? I think we’re lucky to enjoy something so much.” “Yeah, you’re right, as usual.” Casper grinned. I loved to see him happy, and he was so cute when he was smiling. It was easy to remember why I’d fallen for him. I leaned back in the booth. “Aww, it feels so good to sit in a restaurant and not have to worry about where our next meal is coming from.” “It’s coming from the kitchen,” said Casper, giggling. He was in a truly good mood. Our meals did come from the kitchen in short order. Despite the double cheeseburger and fries the evening before, I was famished. Perhaps the hours of digging had something to do with that, but more likely it was going without food for far too long on our journey north. Seldom did we have nothing to eat, but far too often we had little. It made the feast that was spread before us now all the more impressive. All talking ceased the moment our Moffatt breakfasts arrived; we were far too busy eating. Besides, Casper and I often enjoyed a companionable silence. When you love someone, being near him is all that matters. I smeared butter on my pancakes and drowned them in hot maple syrup. I loved it when a restaurant heated the syrup! Everything was good and hot and oh-so-delicious! I put salt, pepper, and just a little hot sauce on both my scrambled eggs and hash browns. I didn’t rush, but enjoyed each and every mouthful. One good thing about going without is that it gives one a true appreciation for the taste of food. So many times in the past I’d wolfed down a meal without giv-

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ing it the least thought. I couldn’t even remember what I’d eaten after a few hours had passed. The lives Casper and I were leading now were rough, but at least there were a few compensations. As difficult as things were, I knew I’d much rather be here with Casper than living in luxury elsewhere without him. He meant that much to me. Casper and I sat there and ate for more than an hour. It took that long to finish our humongous breakfasts. We ate every last bite, much to the amazement of our waitress. She was especially surprised Casper could finish the Moffatt breakfast. “Where do you put it all?” she’d asked, looking at his slim body. Even with a respectable tip, our bill came to $12. It was a sizable percentage of our total funds, but I doubted either of us would need anything else to eat until late in the evening. We’d hit the grocery before then and do some careful shopping. I intended to make our remaining thirty-eight bucks last as long as possible. We’d learned from Boothe that school was out for the year, so we could walk around town freely. We checked each storefront for a “HELP WANTED” sign, but, unsurprisingly, none had appeared overnight. The Verona Citizen was a weekly, so there was no need check the help-wanted ads again. Our prospects of finding a job were not good. At least we had our job with Boothe to fall back on. I didn’t like it, but it was far better than starving. ✶

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A week passed, and we’d found nothing. We were discouraged but weren’t giving up hope. We managed to stretch our remaining funds and still had a little left. We had no more big meals at Café Moffatt, but we didn’t go hungry. Summer had come, and it was wonderfully warm. Casper and I had taken to sleeping out under the stars on the high-school football field. The field was a sad reminder of what I’d given up. Only the previous fall I’d been on top of the world, the local football star. But then my parents had discovered my secret, and my life became a nightmare. The field brought back good memories, too, and even though it wasn’t my football field, I still drew a certain amount of comfort from it. Seven days after we’d first met, Boothe found Casper and me sitting in the park and asked if we were up for another late-night dig. We reluctantly agreed to meet him in front of Ofarim’s once more at 9:30 p.m. The appointed hour arrived all too soon; then again, it was something that I was eager to put behind me. The sooner we started, the sooner we’d finish.

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“You guys are looking fit,” said Boothe. “Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “You smell a good deal better, too,” he said, smirking. I said nothing. Casper and I washed off regularly in the fountain in the park. It wasn’t as enjoyable as a good hot shower, but it sufficed. We returned to the cemetery, parked in the same spot, and once again followed Boothe with our tools. It was only our second time out, but already I felt a sense of repetitiveness. With a shovel and a pick over my shoulder I felt a bit like a gold miner. I guessed we were digging for gold in a way, but our activities weren’t exactly on the up and up. I didn’t know what we’d do if we were arrested. My parents would find me for sure then, and I didn’t even want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to Casper, either. “We’re hitting the grave of another acquaintance of mine,” said Boothe. “There isn’t as much loot in this one, but Devon was such a dick when he was alive I feel like I’ve just got to rob him blind, although I guess he’s blind already. It’s also a matter of getting the last laugh.” Boothe chuckled. He had one sick sense of humor. We dug for hours again. I felt stronger, which was probably a combination of eating better and my last workout provided by grave digging. Once again my shovel hit concrete and I helped Boothe pry off the lid. Casper and I watched as Boothe lifted the lid of the casket. Inside was a boy of about our age, blond, and rather good looking. He too had a blue tinge to his skin, just like the other corpse. Boothe rifled through his pockets, removed the boy’s rings, and even the gold chain that hung around his neck. I was shocked when Boothe took out a marker and wrote “FAGGOT” on the boy’s forehead. Boothe laughed loudly as he did it, but he wasn’t finished with the dead boy yet. I watched in disbelief as Boothe smacked the corpse in the face and said, “Goodbye, you lousy fucker. May you roast in Hell!” He must have really hated that guy. Once again, Boothe drove us back to his house. It seemed that staying over for the night was a bonus in addition to our pay. It wasn’t much of a bonus, but I did like the shower and sleeping in a bed. Boothe showered first, then Casper, and then me. Just as I was drying off, Boothe entered the bathroom. “Can’t you wait just a minute?” I asked, crossly. I was getting sick of him coming in while I was naked. “It is my bathroom,” he reminded me. I looked past him, and Casper was nowhere in sight.

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“Where’s Casper?” “I sent him off to the mini-mart for donuts and milk. We can have a little celebration.” I didn’t like the idea of Casper running around alone in the wee hours of the morning, but there was nothing I could do about it, since he was already gone. He’d be okay, anyway; Verona wasn’t that dangerous. Boothe’s eyes roved over my body, just like the week before. He made me uncomfortable. “You must work out a lot,” said Boothe. I cringed. It was a pickup line and a bad one at that. I didn’t care about the quality, but Boothe’s intent disturbed me. “I did, long ago.” “You’ve got some really nice muscles,” said Boothe, reaching out to rub my chest. I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” “You know, you’d better be a little more cooperative if you want to keep your job.” It was just what I didn’t need, sexual harassment from a grave robber. “That wasn’t part of our deal.” “Wasn’t it? Well, if not, I’m making it part of our deal now. If you want to keep your job you’d better cooperate.” He reached for me again. This time he went for my package. I grabbed his wrist. “Listen, Casper and I need the work, but you need us. Without us, you’ll be back to digging up graves yourself.” “I can manage, and let’s just talk about your little friend for a moment. I know there’s something going on between you two.” “You don’t know anything.” “Bullshit! You’re both fags! I saw you making out.” I didn’t know when Boothe had managed to see that. Had he been peeking through the keyhole the week before when we thought he’d been sleeping? “If you can put out for him, you can for me. Besides, it seems to me as if you might enjoy a real man for a change instead of that little boy.” “He’s not a little boy. He’s fifteen!” “Bullshit. I bet he isn’t over twelve. You’re a fucking child molester, you sick fuck.” I was so angry I clenched my fists. It was all I could do to keep myself from smashing Boothe in the face.

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“Even if he is fifteen as you say, which I sincerely doubt, it’s still statutory rape. I don’t think the cops would take too kindly to that, now, would they?” I didn’t know if Boothe was right about that or not. Casper was fifteen, underage, and I was seventeen. Did our sexual relationship constitute statutory rape? The thought truly disturbed me. I loved Casper with all my heart. Statutory rape sounded so vile. “The cops wouldn’t take too kindly to your little business, either,” I reminded him. “I think you have more to lose. I’d be back on the street in three months, tops, while you’d likely go to prison for a few years at least. I hear they love child molesters in there. Someone would likely cut your throat. There’s also the fact you’re a runaway—almost certainly someone with something to hide. If I turn you in, all that is going to catch up with you.” I seethed with anger, but Boothe was right: I had far more to lose. If Boothe made good on his threat, I’d lose Casper for sure. Even if I didn’t care about all the rest, I could never let that happen. Boothe reached out and touched my chest again. I didn’t stop him. He ran his hands down my torso, feeling my muscles, until he reached my crotch. He began moving his hand up and down, and a slight moan escaped my lips despite myself. Boothe stared into my eyes and moved his hand faster. I didn’t want to be aroused by him. I fought it, but failed. His eyes never left mine. He gazed at me with pure lust. I lost control and moaned as my whole body shuddered with release. Boothe pulled his hand away and grinned at me evilly. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asked. “I hate you,” I told him. Boothe just laughed. I quickly pulled on my boxers and jeans as he watched. I felt dirty and ashamed. “I can see what you see in that boy,” said Boothe as I was putting on my shirt. “Casper is quite a cutie.” That was too much for me. I grabbed Boothe by the throat, shoved him against the wall, and snarled at him. “If you EVER hurt Casper, I’ll kill you. You keep your hands off him. If you try to pull anything with Casper like you just did with me, nothing will keep me from killing you. You can turn me in, tell the cops anything you want, but I will track you down and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg me for death!” My voice was filled with menace and hate, leaving no doubt I meant exactly what I said. I released Boothe, and he tried to shrug it off, but I could tell he was shaken.

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“Don’t worry, Brendan, I’ll keep my hands off your boy toy. I’m sure you’ll be able to satisfy all of my needs.” I wasn’t able to say anything more because Casper returned just then. “What are you guys doing?” he asked. “I was just having a little chat with Brendan. We were discussing future business.” “I got the donuts and the milk,” said Casper holding them up, smiling. “All right, let’s pig out!” said Boothe, sounding nothing like the monster I knew him to be. I slapped a fake smile on my face. The less Casper knew the better. I was ashamed about what had just taken place, even though it was hardly my fault. Still, telling Casper would serve no purpose other than to scare and hurt him. I knew he’d understand that I had to let Boothe do what he’d done; he wouldn’t blame me, but it would hurt him nonetheless. He’d worry about me and fear for my safety. Besides, it would be humiliating to tell Casper the truth. Sometimes, it was better if I kept my mouth shut. ✶

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In the days that followed, Casper and I settled into a more-or-less normal life in Verona. We splurged on breakfast at Café Moffatt the morning after our second night of work, but otherwise we bought our food at the grocery, as it was much cheaper. We slept outside and spent our days enjoying the sunshine and looking for work. Casper and I spotted Boothe’s “acquaintance” near the park. He was rather hard to miss as he stood near the street, leaning up against a telephone pole, shirtless and smoking a cigarette. He looked like a prostitute soliciting business. It’s likely that I jumped to the conclusion because Boothe had already told us about him. Without that foreknowledge, maybe he would have just looked like a guy standing by the street. He wasn’t particularly good looking, but he was fairly muscular, so I guess he had something to offer his customers. Casper looked at him in disgust, and my stomach clenched at my boyfriend’s reaction. I wondered what he’d think of me if he knew I’d sold myself on the street not once, but twice while we lived in Purity. I could never escape the guilt of what I’d done, but I wasn’t sorry I’d done it, either. I sold myself to an older woman to buy medicine for Casper. I know it sounds like something out of a Dickens novel, but that’s what happened. It was winter, bitterly cold, and Casper was seriously ill. I needed money not only for his medicine but for food and a

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warm place to stay. I’d done what I needed to do. Casper might well have died if I didn’t. I knew Casper would understand, but he’d also feel guilty if he found out I’d sold myself to help him. I told myself that keeping that secret was best not only for me but for my boyfriend as well. There was no reason he ever needed to know I’d sacrificed myself for him. The days passed, and our money dwindled. Before long another week was up. Boothe hadn’t contacted us, and we’d been instructed to seek him out at home if he failed to find us. I was loath to do so, but Casper and I walked to his house, seeking our third night of employment. I was not at all pleased with the idea of going back to Boothe’s house. I feared what he’d try with me next. I was very much afraid he’d send Casper off again so that he could take advantage of me. Boothe was obviously gay. I guess he could have just been on some kind of power trip, but if that was so, I think he would’ve made me kiss his feet or something rather that reaching for my package. Guys like Boothe gave all gays a bad name. His actions lessened us all. There was nothing wrong with being gay, but to force someone else into sex was just plain wrong. I was hardly a child, but Boothe had molested me. The very thought of it sickened me. Why did he have to be like that? Couldn’t he have found someone willing? I knew how difficult that could be, but it was far from impossible. Instead, he’d chosen to prey upon others. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, he stole from the dead. We got a bit of a shock when we arrived, because there was a sheriff’s car sitting out front with the lights flashing. It was about 8:30 p.m., and the red light strobed against the white clapboards of the surrounding homes. It looked as if Boothe’s illegal activities had finally caught up with him, but I soon found out I was mistaken. I wasn’t about to approach the sheriff and ask what was going on, but a neighbor volunteered the information. “There’s to be a murder investigation,” she said. “Murder?” I asked. “Was he killed?” “Oh, no, but he’s gone missing. His girlfriend came knocking at my door yesterday looking for him, said she hadn’t seen him in days. I guess she called in the sheriff.” “Couldn’t he have just…run off?” I asked. “I suppose, but why would he leave such a beautiful girlfriend behind? She’s so upset, the poor thing.” I knew why he’d leave her behind: because he wasn’t interested in her. Perhaps I was wrong, however. I’d never stopped to think that Boothe could be bisexual. It hardly mattered. Boothe was gone and so was our means of making money. If

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he didn’t return soon, we’d be in a fix. I wasn’t about to take over the grave-robbing business in his absence. It was one thing to help Boothe but quite another to do it ourselves. Besides, we had no truck and no tools, so even if we’d wanted to take over, it wasn’t an option. Casper and I slipped away. We obviously wouldn’t be working that night and didn’t want to be spotted at what might be a crime scene. “You think someone killed him?” asked Casper when we were a couple of blocks away. “Maybe. He was involved in shady stuff, after all. He probably just skipped town. Maybe he’ll show up in a few days.” “What are we going to do if he doesn’t?” “I don’t know, Casper, but we’ll think of something.” I was more worried about our finances than I let on, but part of me was relieved Boothe was gone. Still, we were in a rough spot. We had a few dollars left, but that would only last a few days at most. I looked down at Casper’s shoes as we walked. Three toes were sneaking out of his left shoe. We each had spare clothes, but sooner rather than later Casper would need shoes or he’d be going barefoot. While summer was the ideal time for that, it still wasn’t a good idea. My shoes were in rough shape, too, but they’d last a while longer. Casper needed a new pair soon, and they would be costly. It was not going to be easy to get that kind of money. Another week passed with no sign of Boothe. As much as I despised him, I would have welcomed the sight of him. Despite our best efforts at frugality, Casper and I ran out of money four days after Boothe’s disappearance. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone for three days with nothing to eat, but believe me it is not a pleasant experience. We drank a lot of water to try to make ourselves feel full, but it didn’t help much. I kept getting all shaky, and I know Casper did, too. I couldn’t bear to see him suffer like that. Casper was painfully thin. He’d missed far too many meals. I was angry with myself for not being able to provide for him better. We were camped out in the woods behind the high school. It was a pleasant location and more out of the way than the football field. We stayed out of sight, because the last thing we needed was to be picked up for vagrancy. “Casper, I’m going to walk into town and try to find Boothe again. If I can’t, I’ll look for other work.” “You won’t find anything. We’ve never found anything.” “I know, but I’ve got to try. We need money and we need it now.” “I’ll go with you.”

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“No, stay here. Don’t waste your energy.” I could tell Casper truly wanted to come with me, but he was sick with hunger. “Okay, I’ll stay this time, but only if I go out tomorrow and look.” “It’s a deal. If I don’t find something today, you can search tomorrow.” I kneeled down and kissed Casper on the lips, then the forehead. “I love you,” I said. “I love you, too, Brendan.” I trekked off through the lush green wood, hit the path, and followed it toward the soccer fields. The forest was filled with vines and other plants of all descriptions. I could see only a few feet off the path to either side. It was almost too warm under the canopy of leaves, but the wood was a beautiful sight to behold. I drank in the beauty as I walked, trying to keep my mind off my empty stomach and our dire situation. I broke into the bright light of summer as my feet hit the soccer fields. A carpet of green grass spread out in every direction. The sight of the goals made me want to play, but I barely had enough energy to walk. I seriously doubted I’d find Boothe, and we’d run out of time. It would take a miracle for me to find work, and it was an absolute necessity that I do so. I had to return to Casper with some food, no matter what. I walked to Boothe’s house, but there was no sign of him. I crossed my arms as I walked toward downtown as if I was cold, even though it was eighty out. I’d put it off as long as I could, but I knew what I had to do. I walked past Café Moffatt, my mouth watering at the heavenly scents wafting out from inside. My stomach ached with hunger. I continued on. Before reaching The Park’s Edge, I crossed the street, partly to avoid whatever scents might torment me from the restaurant, but mostly because the park was my destination. I spotted him as I was crossing the street, looking much the same as he always did, his bare chest gleaming in the hot sun. I walked right up to him. There was no reason or time to beat around the bush. “Hi, I’m Brendan.” “Austin.” “Boothe told me about your…business,” I said. “Yeah? I haven’t seen old Boothe in a while.” “He’s missing,” I said. “Listen, I was working for him, but now he’s gone. I need money…” Austin looked me up and down, appraising the merchandise. Suddenly, he found me of great interest.

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“So Boothe told you what I do?” “Yeah, I thought maybe you could hook me up with one of your contacts…” “Contacts, huh?” Austin laughed. “I know a couple of guys who would be interested in you, yeah…real interested. I want fifty percent.” “Fifty! Ten,” I said. “You’re a funny boy. Forty percent.” “Twenty-five.” “Thirty-five, take it or leave it.” “I’ll take it,” I said. Austin grinned. “I need some cash soon,” I said. “I think I can accommodate you. Let me make a phone call.” I stood by the side of the street as Austin crossed it and entered a phone booth. I swore I’d never sell my body again, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t bear to watch Casper suffer for another moment, and I was so desperately hungry myself that I was almost sick. Austin soon returned. He pulled out a slip of paper and a pen and scribbled down an address. “Okay, here’s the address, just go right up Oak Street, over there,” he said pointing, “and you’ll find it after about six blocks. Don’t worry, this guy is cool. He won’t hurt you, and he won’t try to stiff you either. He’ll just want to explore your body and blow you; that’s it. He’ll give you a hundred bucks. Easy money, huh? Just don’t forget to come right back here with my cut, or I’ll be looking for you.” “I’ll come back,” I said. I walked away from Austin with a sense of dread. So it had come to this. What other choice did I have, though? There were no jobs to be found, and Boothe had taken off to who knows where. For all I knew, he might never return. Maybe he was even dead. I was amazed that Austin hooked me up so quickly. I figured he could set something up for me without much trouble, but not immediately. I thought I’d need to come back later in the night. Didn’t most things like this happen at night? I guess I didn’t know much about the prostitution business, and I hoped that I could keep it that way. Maybe Casper and I should have kept on going until we reached some larger town where the prospects for employment were better. Then again, our short stay in Indianapolis on the way north had yielded nothing. When you’re a teenager, don’t have a home, and are on the run, it’s not exactly easy to pick up work, unless it was the kind of work I was headed for now. I lived in a messed-up world

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where things weren’t as they were supposed to be. No one should have to do what I was about to do, yet kids did it all the time to survive. I reached my destination all too soon, although I guessed the sooner I started the sooner it would all be over with. The guy who met me at the door was probably in his mid-forties, not too bad looking really, but kind of overweight. “Boothe sent me,” I said, so he’d know for sure I was the person he was expecting. “Wow, he wasn’t lying. You’re incredible. Come inside.” Once the door was closed, he really looked me over. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but I knew I’d just have to get over that. “What’s your name?” “Brendan.” I realized I should have probably given him a fake name, but what did it really matter? I wasn’t from anywhere near Verona. It’s not like he was going to recognize me. “Take off your shirt for me, Brendan.” I did as he asked. He was paying for this, after all. “You must be involved in sports,” he said, admiringly. “Football,” I said. “It shows.” He reached out and caressed my chest. I had to fight my instinct to pull away. He rubbed all over my chest, then leaned down and licked me. “Take off the rest of your clothes,” he said, after he’d explored my torso for a few minutes. I felt a deep sense of humiliation as I stripped off my shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers. I was a whore, selling myself for cash. I knew this sort of thing went on all the time, but it was different when I was the whore. I didn’t know his name and I didn’t ask, but the middle-aged man touched me all over. He obviously admired my body, but I felt ashamed. I didn’t even let myself think about Casper. If I did… “Flex your muscles for me, Brendan.” I flexed, and he ran his hands over my biceps and chest. “You’re beautiful.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. He kept touching my body, fondling, and groping me. He sank to his knees and started in. I closed my eyes and pretended I wasn’t a teenaged whore selling himself for money. I didn’t pretend it was Casper down there. To do so would’ve

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seemed like sacrilege. Instead, I just lost myself in the feeling, letting my mind float away on the wind. A few minutes later my entire body tensed, I cried out, and it was all over. I dressed and accepted the roll of bills that he pressed into my hand. I left, feeling nasty and used. Oddly enough, I didn’t bear the guy who’d just paid me for sex any ill will. After all, he hadn’t forced me into anything, and he’d paid a hundred bucks for just a few minutes with me. That seemed overly generous, if anything. He wasn’t some depraved pervert. My impression of him was that he was a lonely man. I wondered what it was like for him, living in a small town, not being able to let anyone know he was gay. I’d been in that position myself once, but it almost seemed worse for him, because he was older. There was definitely much to fear about being outed. Look where it led me. I returned to Austin, gave him his cut, then headed back toward the school and Casper with sixty-five bucks in my pocket. Hunger gnawed at me, but I wasn’t going to eat until Casper could eat with me. It was a gorgeous June day, bright and hot, but I was uneasy. Casper was sure to ask where I’d got the money, and I didn’t know what to tell him. We’d always been truthful with each other. I’d never told him about what happened in Purity, but he’d never asked. He’d just assumed that the money we had on hand and began earning in the diner where we soon found employment covered everything. I tried to put it out of my mind and enjoy the warm sun on my back. I was actually beginning to sweat a bit. I could feel a trickle of perspiration run my down back and another run down my chest. The sensation made me remember having my chest licked. I enjoyed it when Casper did it, but… I’m never going to be able to forget this, am I? It’s going to be just like my memories of Ellen. No matter how hard I try to put them behind me, I’ll always remember. I guessed it was something I’d just have to live with. Everyone had done things they were ashamed of, and I was no different. The problem was that the money I’d just earned wouldn’t last forever. If Boothe didn’t return soon, I’d have to do it again. I returned to Casper and found him under the shade of the trees. I gently shook him to wake him, then kissed him lightly upon the lips. “Ready for a Moffatt breakfast?” I asked. It was mid-afternoon, but the Moffatt breakfast was an affordable feast. “You got some money?” asked Casper, excitedly. “Yeah.” “Is Boothe back?”

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“No. Come on. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” I prayed he wouldn’t ask me about the money. “So, you found a job?” asked Casper, lacing his shoes as he sat on the ground. “Sort of, just temporary, but I made a few bucks.” “Cool, doing what? Yard work, cleaning out a garage, what?” “Yard work,” I said, looking away. An uncomfortable silence grew in the air. I looked back at Casper, trying to appear as if all was well. Casper peered at me closely. I felt as if my guilt were plainly written on my face. “Brendan…are you lying to me?” My face blanched and I could feel a sob forcing its way up my throat. I fought it down. Tears filled my eyes, but I did not cry. Casper stood and hugged me. I held him tight, as if afraid I’d lose him if I let go, and began to cry. “Brendan, what’s wrong?” “Can we please just not talk about it?” I asked, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Brendan…” “Please,” I pleaded. “Let’s just go eat, okay?” “Okay,” said Casper quietly after a bit. The look of concern he gave me nearly made me start crying all over again. Casper loved me, and he respected me. I knew he’d still love me if he discovered the truth, but would he ever be able to respect me again? We walked in silence until we were nearly downtown. “I can’t wait to get at those pancakes,” I said. “This is going to be good!” said Casper, smiling. Minutes later we walked into Café Moffatt and both ordered the Moffatt breakfast. The wonderful scents of pancakes, bacon, and eggs tormented us as we awaited our own meals. Someone at a nearby table was having a juicy burger and fries, and those scents assailed us, too. I couldn’t remember being so hungry before. The anticipation was tremendous, a torment in some ways, but I was so thankful Casper and I would soon have something to eat that I was filled with joy. “When our food gets here, don’t eat too fast,” I warned Casper. “Since we haven’t had anything to eat in a few days, it might make us sick.” Our waitress placed a pitcher of hot syrup on our table just then. I hadn’t seen her coming since my back was turned to the kitchen. I wondered if she’d overheard me. When she came with our food a few minutes later, I was quite sure she

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had. Our collection of plates were piled high with extra everything. Each of our meals was like a double Moffatt breakfast. I was so thankful I almost cried. “Thank you,” I said as she set the plates down, and the tone of my voice made it obvious I meant it. “No problem, Hon,” she said and smiled. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” said Casper as he dug his fork into his butter and syrup-covered pancakes. “Heaven must be all-you-can-eat,” I said. Casper giggled. I was so hungry and so grateful for the food that it was a good long time before I remembered what I’d done to earn the money. Was it really less than a year since I was living at home, blissfully ignorant of the real world? I had my own car and plenty of money. I was popular and a star on the football team. I would never have guessed back then that I’d soon be selling my body on the street for food. In recent months I’d grown streetwise, but I would have given about anything to trade that wisdom for innocence. Casper grinned at me over the table. That’s all that really mattered to me: Casper’s happiness. I’d sell myself on the street a hundred times so he wouldn’t have to go hungry. I just hoped I could keep him in the dark about it, partly because of my own shame, but mostly because I didn’t want him to feel guilty. Casper and I ate slowly. There was no need to rush. We had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Taking our time allowed us to prolong the pleasure of our meal. For a short space of time that booth in Café Moffatt was ours—our own special place. Despite everything, I was happy. I was with Casper, and nothing much beyond that seemed to matter. I hoped that someday we could settle down, get a house, and live happily ever after, or at least as close to it as possible. I knew that the world hated boys like us, but we loved each other, so the world be damned. Late that evening, once it had grown dark, Casper and I bathed in a fountain in the park. Freshly cleaned, we walked to our little camping place in the woods and made love on a soft bed of moss. Nothing was as wonderful as making love to Casper. Every moment of it, from the initial gentle caresses to the final pounding ecstasy was pure bliss. When we’d finished, I held Casper in my arms, looking at the bits of sky we could see through the canopy of leaves. We lay there, naked in each others arms, until we fell asleep.

TAYLOR—JULY 1981 I awakened, made myself presentable, and climbed out into the warm air. It was July First, truly summer, but it was winter in my heart. Marshall must have heard me stirring, for soon he came and stood beside me as I gazed at the morning sun. “You’re going to work today?” he asked. “Yes. Life, as they say, goes on. I don’t really believe that, but I can’t stop working. Too many people depend on me. I’ve got to take care of Nathan…now that Mark’s gone. Regardless, the last thing I want is to be alone with my thoughts. I want to keep busy, so busy I won’t even remember.” “I’m so sorry, Taylor.” “None of this seems right. I feel…I don’t know…as if I’m someplace I shouldn’t be. Does that make any sense?” Marshall looked almost frightened. “Yeah, it does.” Nathan climbed out of the box, rubbing his eyes. I patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” I said. I wasn’t hungry, but I ate anyway. Thankfully our usual waitress wasn’t there. I couldn’t have stood hearing her ask, “Where’s Mark?” I would have broken down and cried right then and there. “How are you doing this morning?” asked Marshall. “I exist,” I answered, as I did the night before. “It’s all so unreal now. It’s as if it didn’t really happen. I know it did, but I don’t, if that makes any sense? I know it will hit me later and hit me hard, but right now it’s not real to me. It was last night, but not now. Right now I feel like Mark is going to be waiting for me when I return to the village after work tonight. He’s going to smile and hug me and tell me he loves me.” My eyes glistened with tears. - 464 -

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Nathan, who was sitting beside me, reached over and put his hand on my own. I took it and squeezed it. “It will be okay, Taylor,” he said quietly. Marshall stared at him. He’d never heard him speak. He quickly regained his composure. “I’ll help you through this any way I can,” said Marshall. He was so earnest I knew he meant every word. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “Thank you both.” All through breakfast Marshall was visibly upset. I had to remind myself that Mark’s death touched others and not me alone. I didn’t know how I was going to get through my day. Suddenly, even the familiar interior of Denny’s and the faces of my friends seemed alien. I’d never lost anyone I cared about before, other than Jon. He was my friend, but Mark was so much more than that. He was my world, and now he was gone. How could I possibly deal with that? I had to be strong, though. I couldn’t just quit on life. Who would take care of Nathan if I was gone? Who would bring in money to feed the others? For the moment, my mind was still numb. Little bits of sadness were slipping through, but I knew I was being spared the real pain and grief for a brief space of time. What I’d do when my loss became real I didn’t know, but I’d have to find some way to handle it. Marshall and Nathan walked me to work, which I appreciated. Marshall made an effort at conversation, talking about anything and everything. I could tell his heart wasn’t in it, but it had the desired effect of preventing me from thinking too much about Mark. “Will you be okay with Marshall?” I asked Nathan at the café door. He looked at Marshall, nodded, and added “yes,” as if he’d forgotten he could speak. “He’ll take good care of you,” I said. “You can take care of each other.” The Hanson Café was a haven. The hustle and bustle of waiting tables, fending off overly eager admirers, and keeping long orders in my head was just what I needed. The friendly faces and the familiar surroundings helped to ground me and somewhat dissipate the feeling that I was lost in time. There were moments during the day, lulls in activity, when the truth assailed me. Mark was gone; Mark was dead. I couldn’t even go to his funeral, if there was to be one. I’d lost him forever. Mercifully, there wasn’t much downtime. The café had become more popular over time, with larger crowds. Hugh credited me with his improved business, but I seriously doubted I was that much of an attrac-

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tion. I continued to dress as sexily as possible to gather bigger tips, but no matter how I dressed, I was just me. I’d had to re-dye my hair a few times. Months had passed, but I was still wanted for the murder of Jon. I doubted I’d ever be able to go back to being blond. My problems were waiting on me as I stepped out of the café a little after nine p.m. It was almost as if they had coalesced into a huge dragon perched on top of the building, just waiting to swoop down on me. I felt myself in the dragon’s clutches the moment my shoes hit the sidewalk. The realization that Mark wouldn’t be waiting for me in the village when I returned tore into me. He wouldn’t be there to lie beside me tonight. He wouldn’t be there to hug and kiss me. He was gone from my life, and I’d never get him back. Tears were streaming from my eyes by the time I reached the village. The numbness I’d been feeling was dissipating fast. The loss of Mark was becoming real. Only Marshall and Nathan were present when I made it home. Marshall took one look at me and wrapped his arms around me. I cried into his shoulder, sobs racking my body. All the pain I’d not been feeling since the night before hit me like a tidal wave. I lost control and bawled like a baby. Nathan put his arms around me and hugged me, too. “This is all my fault,” said Marshall at last. “My God, I never thought it would be like this. What have I done?” I pulled my head from his shoulder, still crying. “Marshall, that’s crazy; this isn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could have done to save Mark.” Marshall slowly shook his head, his own eyes brimming with tears. “If you only knew…Jon, Stephanie, Mark, the suffering, the pain…It’s all my fault—all mine. I thought I could make things better, but it’s all gone wrong. It’s all gone so horribly, horribly wrong.” Marshall began to cry. I raised my eyebrow and peered at him. “What are you talking about, Marshall?” “You’ll just think I’m crazy if I tell you. Dammit! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Everyone was supposed to be happy!” “Marshall?” Marshall stared down at the ground, then looked back up at me. He just stared into my eyes for several long moments. “I don’t want to tell you. You’ll hate me for it, Taylor. You’ll hate me.” Tears fell from Marshall’s eyes as he spoke. His features were etched with pain.

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“I could never hate you, Marshall. Besides, blaming yourself for all the bad things that have happened doesn’t make sense. No one person could be responsible for all that.” “In every other case you’d be right, but not this time. It’s all my fault, all of it.” “I think you’d better tell me what you’re talking about.” “No, I can’t!” “Marshall, I can see this is tearing you up inside. Tell me. You’ve been there for me through all the rough times; now I’m here for you.” Marshall hesitated for a good long time. He just stood there gazing at Nathan and me. Finally he spoke. “Okay, but you’re just going to think I’m a nut case.” “Come on. Let’s have a seat and talk,” I said. We all sat down on the grass under the summer sky with only the moonlight and distant street lights for illumination. “You know how you said none of this seems right?” asked Marshall. “Remember when you said you feel like you’re someplace you shouldn’t be?” I nodded. “Well, you were right. None of this was meant to happen. You aren’t supposed to be here. Nathan isn’t supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be here, and neither was Mark. The others, I don’t know about. I don’t know how much has changed.” I didn’t say anything. What could I say? Marshall had barely started, and he already sounded crazy. He’d always seemed a bit odd; maybe he wasn’t quite all there. “I changed things. I thought I could make them better. There was so much pain—Ethan, Jordan, Sean, and so many others. I thought that if I went back and kept one key event from happening everything would be better.” “Went back?” “I don’t belong in this time,” said Marshall. “What do you mean?” “I’m from the future. I’m from 1998.” I just stared at him. He was right. I did think he was crazy. Nathan looked at him with wide eyes. “Marshall…” “I know you think I’m nuts, but I can prove it!” “And how can you do that?”

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Marshall took off his shoe. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He pulled out a coin and handed it to me. It was a quarter. “Read the date.” It was difficult to make out in the moonlight, but I must admit I was a bit shocked to see the date of “1997” on the quarter. It could have been altered some way. It looked like a real quarter, but it certainly wasn’t enough to prove Marshall’s story. I doubted there was enough proof in the universe for that. “There’s more,” said Marshall. “I know things. I know about your rabbit.” “My rabbit?” “Your stuffed rabbit. It was your favorite toy; you kept it with you always, then you gave it to Mark.” I felt a bit of color drain from my face. How did he know that? Had Mark or I mentioned it? I couldn’t remember. “I know a lot of things about you, Taylor. You and Mark met at a school dance. You’d just moved to Verona from Ohio. The first time the two of you had sex was in a motel room during an away game. Brandon and Jon arranged it so you could have a room together even though your coach was trying to keep you apart. You went to Halloween World once with Mark, Brandon, Jon, and Ethan. Brandon hurled after riding the roller coaster. I can go on if you like.” I sat there open mouthed. I’d told Marshall none of these things, and I doubted Mark had either. He certainly wouldn’t have said anything about our first time together. “How do you know these things?” “I read them in your journal.” “My journal?” Marshall couldn’t possibly have read my journal. He couldn’t even know I had a journal. No one knew. “Yes. Sean found it. He gave it to Ethan. I’ve read the whole thing.” “Sean? Ethan? Ethan Selby?” “Yes.” “This isn’t making any sense.” “That’s because I’m talking about things that haven’t happened yet from your point of view, and now that I’ve changed things, they won’t happen.” I was frightened. Marshall was freaking me out. He knew things he shouldn’t have known, but, even more, there was that nagging feeling in my gut, the one I’d had for months now, that things weren’t as they were supposed to be. “I know this all sounds nuts, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m not insane. I know that’s exactly what crazy people say, but I’m not mad.”

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“Okay, let’s just say that I believe you about all of it. What exactly did you do, and how did you do it?” “I traveled back in time to November 3, 1980, through…magic.” “Magic?” Part of me wanted to believe Marshall, but he was talking crazy. Magic? He seemed to have taken one step too far into the unbelievable. “Yeah, I found a spell, in a book, in the library of Graymoor.” “Graymoor Mansion?” “Yes. Graymoor is still there in the future. It’s even being restored. I was with my friend Sean in the library. Sean’s family owns Graymoor in the future. I found the book, and it opened right up to the page with the spell on it. Sean was talking about Marty, his best friend, who had been murdered a few months before. It really tore Sean up when it happened, and he’s still not really over it. I was thinking about him and how Ethan and so many others had suffered. I was thinking about Jordan, about how he’d grown up without a father and how much that hurt him.” “Jordan?” “Your son.” “What?” “Your son, Taylor, yours and Stephanie’s.” Marshall looked at me and swallowed, fear in his eyes. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Taylor. I know you loved her, and I know the loss of her and the baby hurt you.” “Jordan,” I said. “I’ve heard you say that name before. When I told you about Stephanie’s death and about the unborn child, you said Jordan.” “That would have been his name.” I peered at Marshall. How could these things he was telling me be the truth? He seemed so earnest, however, and I detected no lie in him. I’d come to know Marshall over the past months, and he’d never given me cause to doubt his word. Marshall would not be so cruel as to make his story up. Was he insane, then? He seemed a bit crazy sometimes, but not mentally off: just goofy and weird. I’d never been around anyone who was insane, but I imagined it wouldn’t be too hard to tell. “This feeling of despair came over me as I stood in the library with Sean,” said Marshall. “There was so much pain. I thought that if I could just go back and change the one event that set it all in motion, that I could make everything okay. I thought I could make everyone happy.”

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My mind was reeling. This was fantasy…yet it all felt right. Maybe I was going crazy, too. “Wait a minute,” I said. Something Marshall had said a bit earlier finally registered in my mind. “What was that you said, about Jordan growing up without a father?” Marshall nodded as the realization began to dawn on me. “You came back to November the 3rd. That was the night I almost killed myself. That was the night you saved me…” My voice trailed off. I stared at Marshall. “You were the key event, Taylor. I came back to keep you from killing yourself.” “You mean, if you hadn’t been there…” “You would have swallowed the pills. Brandon, Ethan, and Jon would have found you dead, leaned up against the soccer goal.” I remembered that night, or rather early morning, as if it had happened yesterday. I was certain that at least one thing was true: If Marshall hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed myself. “That’s what set it all in motion,” said Marshall. “Mark found out about it later that morning. He went insane with grief. That night he went out to the very same soccer goal and killed himself with a gun.” “No!” “I’m sorry, but he couldn’t take losing you like that. He felt responsible, too, because he wasn’t there to save you. Ethan spent the next decade and more blaming himself, too, and I can only imagine what it did to Brandon and Jon. Mark’s dad killed himself not long afterwards, with the very same gun Mark had used to commit suicide. And Jordan, well, he grew up without a father. It was like a big line of dominoes. Your suicide was like a finger knocking the first domino over, and, after that, they all went down. “All of a sudden, I had the chance to change all that, to take away all that pain. I didn’t stop to consider the consequences, however. I didn’t know Mark would end up killing Devon, and I definitely never considered the possibility that you’d kill Jon. It wasn’t supposed to work out this way! You and Mark were supposed to live happily ever after! When the time was right, I was going to tell you about Jordan. I wanted you to be there when your son was born. Jordan could have had the father he always wanted, but…it all went wrong.” Marshall began to cry again. His cries were anguished and pitiful, the cries of someone who’d tried to do right, only to make matters worse. Nathan just stared at him, gawking. Who could blame him?

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At last, Marshall wiped his eyes and looked at me. “You don’t believe me, do you?” “I…believe that you believe and…well, it’s crazy, but I don’t know how you could know what you know if what you’re telling me isn’t the truth. You know some things that…well, you just shouldn’t be able to know. What you’ve just told me is crazy. I’d say it’s impossible, but you know things, and…for months now I’ve felt like everything is wrong.” “Since the day we met, right?” “Yes.” “And so you see, it’s all true, and it’s all my fault.” “It’s going to take some time for me to wrap my brain around this,” I said. “To sort it all out, but…you can’t blame yourself, Marshall. I’m not saying I believe you for sure, but, if it is all true, impossible as it seems, your intentions were good. You wanted to make things better for everyone. You wanted to give me a life with Mark I would never have had. You wanted to help us all. You didn’t realize what would happen.” “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I’m there now. I should have considered the consequences—me, of all people. I should have thought it through, but I just jumped right in without considering what could happen. I wanted to be the hero who saved everyone, and now everyone around me has paid the price. Everything is a disaster here, and who knows what is to come? I may have destroyed us all.” “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to console Marshall. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who should be sorry. I know how Jon’s death affected you. I’ve watched you suffer. Now Mark is gone, too, and I can see it killing you. I shouldn’t have interfered.” Marshall grew deathly silent. A look of true terror came over his features, and he trembled. “My God, what have I done? With you and Mark out of the way, Devon will be able to do anything he wants!” “What are you talking about? Devon’s dead, Marshall.” “You don’t understand! Devon is dead in my time, too, but he was supposed to die much later, years later. He was wicked, Taylor, evil, a hundred times worse than you’ve seen him, if you can imagine. He ended up killing himself, but he didn’t leave. His spirit stayed, and it’s evil. Without you and Mark there…Sean! Oh, my God, he’ll kill him. He’ll kill them all!” “Marshall, you’re talking crazy. What do you mean without Mark and me there? If what you say is true, then we’re dead in your time, long dead.”

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“Yes, but you came back! You’re angels! Mark and you are angels, and you’re the only ones who can fight Devon!” Nathan’s eyes widened. “This is too much,” I said. “Let me get this straight. You used magic to travel back in time to change the future, and in this future Mark and I are not only dead but we’re angels? Marshall…maybe we need to get you some help.” “You’ve got to believe me! You said yourself I know things I couldn’t possibly know unless I was telling the truth! Is it so hard to believe that you could become an angel? Look at what you’ve done here, Taylor! You work hours and hours everyday, not just for yourself, but for all of us. These kids…they might have starved to death without you. I know things are rough, but you’re doing all you can to help them, when it would be a lot easier for you to go off on your own. You’ve bought everyone blankets and food. You care about all of us. You’re selfless!” “I’m not selfless.” “Well, you’re a hell of a lot closer to it than any of the rest of us. Why is it so hard to believe you’d want to do the same thing after you’re dead?” “I don’t know what to say.” I truly didn’t. My mind was reeling. “I’ve got to make this right,” said Marshall. “Somehow, I’ve got to undo what I’ve done.” “Is that even possible?” “I don’t know. I don’t know a lot about magic, but if there’s a spell there must be a counter-spell; at least I hope so. Oh, no…” “What?” “If I’m going to have a chance at doing this, I’ll need the book.” “The book that’s in the future? I don’t see how you’re going to get your hands on that.” “No, think about it! If it’s there in the future, it’s got to be there now. The book has to be in Graymoor. Damn it! Why didn’t I bring it with me?” “Okay, so you’re saying that if you can find this book and if it has the right spell, then you can put things back the way they were?” “Yes, I should be able to do so.” “Then I guess we have no choice but to try.” “You believe me then?” “I…I don’t know…it’s all a bit much. I shouldn’t believe you, but…” “You write poems,” said Marshall, thinking hard, “or at least you did before you went on the run. When you were thirteen, you had a crush on Robbie Satterfield. In kindergarten, you sat next to a boy named Billy. You liked him because

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he had dark hair, and you often wished your own hair was dark. The first day, when he asked your name and you told him, he said Taylor was a girl’s name. You cried. Later, the two of you became friends.” I stared at Marshall with an open mouth. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. Marshall was telling the truth. There was no way, absolutely no way he could have known those things about me unless he’d read my journal, and that was impossible. It was still sitting at home in my room. Even Mark hadn’t known the things Marshall just told me. “I believe you,” I said. Nathan looked back and forth between us, watching the unbelievable drama play out in front of him. We must have been as entertaining as TV. “Taylor, you understand that if I’m successful, you’re going to die on that soccer field. You’re going to die, and Mark will, too.” “Is this life any better?” I asked him. “Mark’s dead, and I’m alone. Jon’s dead, because I killed him. Stephanie killed herself because of me, and…if you can change things back, I’ll have a son. I won’t get to watch him grow up, but I’ll have a son. “I’m a fugitive here. I’ve been lucky so far in eluding capture, but the cops could catch up with me at any time. Even if nothing else mattered, the last twenty-four hours have been hellish. and I have no idea how I’m going to survive the next day or the next without Mark. I don’t want to live without him. If there’s a chance to put things right, then I’m more than willing to die. All things happen for a reason, right?” “We’ll have to return to Verona. You’re still wanted by the cops. What if they get you?” “If you’re successful it won’t matter, will it? If you’re not, well, that’s just a chance I’ll have to take.” “I can’t believe I didn’t think to bring that book along! Now we have to walk all the way back to Verona!” “Uh, Marshall, we can call Brandon, you know. He’ll come and get us, I’m sure. The situation has changed. I’m sure the cops are still looking for me, but if you’re successful, none of this will matter anyway. Besides, they’d never suspect I’d return to Verona.” “I’m really stupid sometimes,” said Marshall. “Sometimes,” I said, grinning for the first time in a long time. “Well, I guess there’s no reason to delay. Why don’t you give Brandon a call and see if he can come and get us tomorrow,” suggested Marshall.

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“Okay, I’m certainly not enjoying myself, so we might as well do whatever it is we’re going to do. I hate quitting my job on such short notice.” “Hugh will understand, and maybe Ike or someone could take your place.” “Maybe.” “You know, Taylor, there’s no real reason you have to come with me. You could stay here and…” “No, you might need my help, and you sure won’t get anyone else to believe that crazy story of yours.” “I’m coming, too,” said Nathan. I’d almost forgotten he was sitting there with us. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said. “This could be dangerous.” “I don’t want to stay here. I want to be with you.” Nathan turned to Marshall. “In this future of yours, you mentioned Ethan. Is he okay there?” “He’s more than okay. He’s wonderful. He’s got a fantastic boyfriend he loves with all his heart.” “What’s his boyfriend’s name?” “Nathan.” Tears formed in Nathan’s eyes, and he grinned. “Me?” “Yes, you.” “Let’s get going,” said Nathan.

BRENDAN—JULY 1981 Casper and I stretched out the money I’d earned as far as possible. I was hoping that he didn’t add it all up, because he would have been quite suspicious as to how I made that much money in such a short time. He’d honored my request and didn’t ask me again how I’d earned the money, but I was sure he wondered. As careful as we were, the money eventually ran out. There was still no sign of Boothe, and it looked as if he might never return. While Casper was napping, I ran to the park in search of Austin. He was standing in his usual spot, but he wasn’t alone. A boy of about fifteen was talking with him. “I wondered when you’d be back,” said Austin as I approached. I glanced at the boy. “Don’t worry; you can talk in front of…” “Dane,” said the boy. “Yeah, that’s right. We were just discussing the possibility of him joining our little venture here.” I looked at Dane and frowned. He was way too young to be involved in such a thing. Hell, I was way too young. “I could use another job,” I told Austin, trying to ignore the kid. “I thought so. Lucky for you, business is booming in this homophobic little town. All the queers are too terrified of being found out to take a risk, so they all come to me. Hell, I can’t keep up, that’s why I need boys like you.” “Has it always been like this here?” “No. Last fall a couple of fags who attended our school murdered two other high school boys—knifed them. No one was too fond of queers around here before then, but after that…well things got nasty. Then, not long before Christmas, another gay boy, a wrestler from school, got caught trying to rape another high-school kid. That made things even worse for gays around here. For a while,

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what business there was dropped off, but guys have needs, you know? Now, I can hardly keep up!” “What happened to him, the one who tried raping the kid?” “He took off, which was the smartest thing he could do. He’d be dead by now if he’d stuck around.” I knew about the murders. Boothe told Casper and me about them when we dug up the victims. I’d never heard about the attempted rape, however. How could someone do that? I didn’t know the boy who’d done it, but he’d sure made things tougher on boys like me. I wondered if it was safe for Casper and me to be in Verona at all. I pushed the thought out of my mind. “So, can you find me something for tonight?” “Yeah. I’ll tell you what,” said Austin, reaching into his pocket for a ten. “Here, you take Dane over to Ofarim’s and get you both something to eat. I’ll set something up for you, Brendan, then Dane and I can finish our little talk.” I took the money and led Dane across the street. I hadn’t planned to be away from Casper for more than a few minutes, but I had little choice. Ofarim’s was empty. Dane and I took a booth as far away from the kitchen as possible. Dane ordered a triple deluxe cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke. I ordered a double bacon cheeseburger with fries and a Coke, too. “So…Austin’s your pimp?” asked Dane. I was momentarily taken aback by his directness and his use of the word pimp. “I guess you could call him that.” “So, how long have you been a whore?” “I don’t like being called that.” “Okay, rent boy, working boy, whatever.” Dane rolled his ice-blue eyes. The kid had attitude. “Actually, I’ve only had one customer. I just started.” “I’m starting tonight, hopefully.” “Aren’t you kind of young for this?” I asked. “What are you, my mother? I’m sixteen!” “You look younger.” “Well, I’m not, okay? Besides, what fucking business is it of yours?” “Calm down. Listen, if you need money…I could give you some of what I make.” “Why?” asked Dane, suspiciously. He grinned suddenly. “You want me for yourself? I’d be up for that. You’re hot.” “That’s not what I meant! I just meant I could give you some money for food so you don’t have to do this. It isn’t a good business to be in.”

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“Are you kidding me? Getting paid to have sex? This is my dream come true!” I just stared at him in shock. I loathed the very thought of selling myself, and this kid was eager to get started. He was excited about it. The waitress came with our food just then and we dug in. Dane said nothing for quite a while. The way he attacked his burger and fries, I could tell he hadn’t eaten in some time. I felt guilty for eating without Casper, but this meal was on Austin, so it would be stupid not to take advantage. Besides, I’d soon have more money, and I could take Casper to Café Moffatt again or to Ofarim’s. We’d never been in The Park’s Edge. It looked too expensive. I gave Dane the once over as he sat across from me. He was reasonably good looking, although no cutie like my boyfriend. His dirty blond hair nicely matched his ice-blue eyes. He looked to have a firm build, although he was far from muscular. He might have been sixteen as he said, but I suspected he was younger. I’d been so naïve when I lived in Kentucky. I knew boys sold their bodies for food, drugs, and cash. I’d seen stuff like that on the news. It always happened somewhere else, though. It was distant and therefore unreal. I never dreamed that someday I’d be one of those boys or that I’d be sitting across from a kid who was eager for his first trick. I wished I could talk Dane out of selling himself, but what could I do? He was clearly determined, and I was having a hard enough time making enough money to support Casper and myself. I felt helpless as I sat there and wished, not for the last time, that I could trade my wisdom for innocence. “So…you’re a runaway?” I asked. “Duh! Of course I am. You?” “Yeah.” “Why did you run?” “My dad liked to beat the hell out of me,” said Dane. I winced. “Why’d you run?” “My parents found out I was gay and checked me into a mental hospital— more like a torture chamber really. Me and this other guy escaped, and I’ve been on the run ever since.” “Where’s the other guy?” “I don’t know. We split up. We figured it would be harder for anyone to find us that way. He said he was heading to Florida, but that was months ago. He could be anywhere by now.”

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“I guess things are tough all over,” said Dane, dipping a fry into ketchup. “So you’re gay, huh? Me, too. I guess it’s a good thing; otherwise, this whole selling-my-body-to-guys thing wouldn’t be so pleasant.” “I don’t think it’s going to be as pleasant as you think.” “Why?” “Well, it’s just not! For one thing, you don’t exactly get to pick who you do it with.” “What’s wrong? Did you get a really gross guy or something?” “No, not really, he was okay.” “What did you have to do?” “That’s kind of personal.” “Oh come on! You’re a whore…a rent boy I mean. I know you suck dick, so what’s the big deal with telling me?” “Okay! The guy just felt me and gave me a blow.” “That’s it? That’s nothing. You act like you’re all traumatized over that?” “I don’t like the idea of being forced to sell myself. It’s nasty and dirty, and if Casper ever found out…” “Who’s Casper?” I’d said more than I’d intended, but it was too late to take it back now. “My boyfriend.” “Is he a whor…a rent boy, too?” “No.” “What’s wrong; he ugly?” “No!” “I didn’t think so,” said Dane, grinning. “A stud like you can probably get anyone he wants.” I shook my head in disbelief. “So why isn’t he pulling his own weight?” “Because I don’t want him to have to do what I’m doing; I can make enough for both of us.” “Aww, how sweet. You sell your ass for your boyfriend. That would be good on a greeting card.” “Shut up.” “Chill out, dude, I’m just jerking you around. Don’t be so uptight. You’re living the dream life. Enjoy it.” Dream life? It was more like a nightmare. “So where’s this boyfriend of yours?” “He’s in town.”

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“Cool, I’d like to meet him.” “Just don’t say anything about how I earn money.” “He doesn’t know?” “No.” “Okay, but you don’t really think you’re going to be able to keep that a secret from him forever, do you?” Dane’s words hit me hard. He was right. Sooner or later Casper would find out. “You finished?” I asked. He had to be, there was nothing left on his plate. “Yeah.” “Okay, I’ll pay the bill; then we go back.” We left Ofarim’s and crossed the street again. Austin was waiting on us. “Here, Brendan,” he said, handing me an address. “Here’s your job for tonight. You’ll be making one-fifty this time, but the guy wants a young, hung top, so it won’t be like last time.” I felt nauseated, but didn’t let on. “Okay, what time?” “He wants you there at ten. I’ve got a couple more guys interested in you, so if you’d like something later in the week…” “I’d like to keep this to a minimum.” “Okay,” said Austin, reluctantly. Suddenly he laughed. “You know, keeping your appointments to a minimum, as you say, just might be a good idea. I can charge more for you that way. When these guys find out you’re hard to get, they’ll just want you all the more.” Austin turned his attention to Dane. “Okay, Dane, I’ve got you one in an hour. It pays a hundred, minus my cut of course. The guy gets a little kinky, but it’ll just be oral, so I’m sure you’ll do fine.” “I can’t wait!” said Dane. I cringed. I feared the kid had quite an education coming to him. “Hey, I’ve got to run.” “Going back to your boyfriend?” asked Dane. Austin looked at me. “Boyfriend?” “Don’t even think about it. He’s not for sale, at any price.” “Okay, but if he ever gets interested, you know where to find me. I could use another boy or two.” Austin was turning into quite the entrepreneur. “Later,” I said, refusing to comment. I tried not to think of Dane as I walked away. He was looking forward to turning his first trick as if it was a trip to Disney World or something. He was in for a

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rude awakening. How could anyone be that stupid? Maybe he was just that horny. Either way, I was certain it wasn’t going to be the enjoyable encounter he was anticipating. My first trick hadn’t been too bad, but the mere thought of my coming appointment sickened me. Sex could be a very dirty thing if love wasn’t involved. I felt soiled, and I very much feared the feeling would never go away. ✶

✶

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Just a little before midnight, I walked back to the park with a pocket full of cash. I was depressed and disgusted with my self. I’m a whore, nothing but a whore, I thought to myself. I’d just had sex with a guy old enough to be my father, and I’d hated every minute of it. I was amazed I could even get it up. I guess my body didn’t care about the moral implications, though; it just knew what felt good. I sure didn’t feel good. I wanted to toss myself off a bridge somewhere. “Here’s your cut,” I said to Austin as I handed him a small wad of bills. “Damn, we’re raking it in. I had three customers myself today, you did one, and Dane is out with his third. The boy is insatiable.” “I hope you told him to be safe.” “Of course I did. He’s no good if he’s diseased.” Despite Austin’s reassurance based on greed, I saw a bleak future for Dane. He’d probably die of AIDS before he turned twenty-one. I wondered what my own chances would be. Worse, what if I spread something to Casper? “You don’t look so good there, Brendan. Here take a couple of these.” He held a couple of pills out to me in the palm of his hand. “What’s that?” “Just a little something to relax you. I know it’s tough at first.” “No, thanks.” “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Oh, by the way, where are you and that boyfriend of yours staying?” “In the woods.” “I’ve got a better place for you. I just started using it a month ago, but now that my business is expanding, I’m going to rent a little apartment. It’s not much, but it’s dry. I can show you as soon as Dane gets back, if you like. He needs a place, too.” “Sure.” I waited with Austin by the side of the street, hoping Casper didn’t awaken and find me gone. We often turned in early since there was nothing to do in the

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woods. Dane showed up some fifteen minutes later and handed Austin some cash. “Man, that was great!” said Dane. “You got another one for me?” “Tomorrow, Dane. Give it a rest for now. We don’t want to wear you out.” “I can go again!” “Good boy,” said Austin, patting him on the head like some kind of pet. “Come on, you might be interested in this place, too.” We followed Austin through the darkened streets of Verona. The shadows felt threatening, but maybe I’d just taken on a cynical view of the world. I walked on without enthusiasm. I was finding it harder and harder to be happy in my new life. After several blocks we came to an immense iron gate. There was almost no moonlight, but I could make out the colossal form of some building. Austin led us through the gate, and we walked through tall grass—not to the enormous building, but to a much smaller one near it. Austin flicked on a flashlight and ushered us inside. “There’s two rooms,” he said. “No electricity, of course, but I’ll leave my camp stove here for cooking. There are some pots and pans, too, and there’s a water pump, so it’s not all that bad. There’s plenty of room for both of you and your boyfriend,” he said, turning to me. “I’m moving in tonight,” said Dane looking around. “I’ll see what Casper thinks,” I said. Dane made a sound like a cracking whip. “Spoken like a boy who’s whipped. I bet this Casper leads you around by the balls, huh?” “Shut up, Dane.” “Anyway, if you want it, it’s yours. I’m moving out this very night.” “Thanks,” I said. “I need to get going.” “Later, Brendan. Contact me as soon as you’re ready for another job. I have guys lined up wanting you.” “I’ll take them!” said Dane. “Down boy. I have plenty for you, too, you little horn dog.” “Bye,” I said. I walked away, hoping I could find my way back to the park. Apparently Dane had enjoyed his work as much as he’d anticipated, but I feared it would screw him up. It was messing me up, and I was older and obviously more mature. I dreaded each step I took forward. Dane was right; there was no way I was going to be able to keep Casper in the dark forever. I faced a dilemma. Did I tell him now or try to keep what I was doing hidden a little longer? If Boothe

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returned, maybe Casper would never have to know, but that was looking less and less likely. I was still undecided when I crossed the soccer fields behind the school and walked into the woods. It was well past midnight, so I hoped I’d find Casper asleep. I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to lie down and close my eyes. It was not to be, however, for Casper was wide awake when I entered our campsite. “Where were you?” he asked. I couldn’t see him well in the darkness, but I knew he was worried from the tone of his voice. “I’m sorry, I was…working. We have more money now.” “Boothe back?” “No.” “Brendan…how much money did you make?” “Enough to see us through a few days.” “How much?” I didn’t want to answer him, but I didn’t want to lie to my boyfriend. “About a hundred bucks,” I said at last. “Brendan, how can you make that much money so fast?” I wanted to ask him not to ask me, but I couldn’t keep my secret forever. Casper deserved to know the truth. My shoulders slumped in defeat, and a sob rose in my throat. “Brendan, Brendan what’s wrong?” Casper put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve done something terrible,” I said, still crying. I could see Casper’s face more clearly now that he was closer. He looked stricken, and his eyes were filled with concern. “Brendan, you know I’ll still love you, no matter what. Did you…steal the money?” I shook my head. “What then?” “I sold my body. I’m a whore, Casper. Your boyfriend is a whore.” I burst into tears. Casper tried to hug me, but I pulled away. “Don’t look at me! I’m dirty and nasty!” “Brendan…” “I know I must sicken you. I didn’t want to do it, but we were out of food. There are no jobs…anywhere! I was so hungry, and I couldn’t stand to see you suffer anymore. I’m sorry, Casper, I’m so sorry.” “Brendan…I love you.” I looked up, tears blurring my vision. “I feel so ashamed,” I said.

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“Don’t,” said my boyfriend. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. This isn’t your fault. It’s your parents’ fault for kicking you out. It’s society’s fault for not taking care of kids like us. It’s my fault for being a burden on you, but it’s not your fault.” “You’re not a burden! You’ve never been a burden. I love you! You’re the only thing good in my life! I’d die for you.” Casper smiled. He took my face in his hands and kissed me. “I’m so sorry you had to do that, Brendan. Don’t look down on yourself. I don’t look down on you for it. I respect you. I admire you for taking care of us. You won’t have to do it alone anymore, Brendan. We’re in this together.” “I won’t let you sell yourself,” I said. “We’re in this together, Brendan. If I do it, too, then you won’t have to do it as often.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. I couldn’t live with that.” “We’ll talk about it later,” said Casper. “Come on, it’s late and I know you’re tired. Lie down here by me and rest your head on my chest.” We lay down and I put my head on Casper’s chest just as he suggested. I could hear and feel his heart beating. I cried softly. “I didn’t want you to ever know, but…” “Shhhh,” said Casper. “It’s okay, Baby. I love you, and we’re together and we’re going to get through whatever comes. You know when people get married, how they commit to each other for better or worse? Well, that’s us, too. This is the worse part. Someday, things will get better for us. You’ll see.” Casper and I held each other. I felt safe in his arms. Soon, I was asleep. ✶

✶

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✶

The next morning, it was back to Café Moffatt for, what else, the Moffatt breakfast. I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I still felt humiliated and ashamed because Casper knew I’d sold my body to buy us food, but he’d been so understanding and loving that it made me feel a good deal better. I couldn’t bear to have him look at me at first, but after our talk, I felt like I’d gotten a little bit of my dignity back. “This is the best food, ever,” said Casper as he bit into a strip of bacon. “I can’t argue with you there.” We had a wonderful breakfast, then walked outside and strolled in the sunshine. “I’ve got us a place to stay,” I said. “It isn’t much, but it does have running water, if you pump it, anyway.”

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“Where?” “Austin showed it to me last night. He’s the one who has been hooking me up with…customers.” “Is he that guy in the park?” “Yeah.” “I figured. He’s always standing out by the street with his shirt off. He looks like he’s looking for business.” “You’ve got him pegged. He’s getting an apartment, so he said we could have his old place. It’s an abandoned shed or something, but it’s not bad. There’s a kid, Dane, who will be staying there, too.” “Dane?” “Yeah, Austin finds him customers, too.” Casper nodded. It was a bit difficult to find the place, but after a few wrong turns, I managed to find the big iron gate. I was amazed at what lay behind it. “Holy crap!” I said. “Haven’t you been here before?” asked Casper, also gawking at the huge mansion in front of us. “Last night, but it was dark and I couldn’t see much. All I could make out was some big building, but…wow. I’ve never seen a house that big before.” “It looks abandoned.” “Haunted.” “Definitely. So this is the place you told me about? I think I’d rather sleep in the woods.” “No, this isn’t it. Right over here,” I said, walking Casper across the yard. For the first time, I could see our new home clearly, too. It was a small building, what I think might have been called a summer kitchen way back when. It looked to be in better repair that the mansion that stood all too near it. We walked back to it and stepped inside. Dane raised himself up off a sleeping bag and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, hey, Brendan. What time is it?” “About eleven.” “Is this your boyfriend?” asked Dane when he spotted Casper. “I’m Casper.” “Hey. Damn, you’re cute. You’re not what I was expecting, but cute. If you guys wanna…” “Don’t go there, Dane.” Dane rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

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One of the rooms in our two-room abode was indeed fixed up kind of like a kitchen. There was a stone sink with a pitcher pump. I gave it a try and it worked, just as Austin had said. A camp stove sat near on a cabinet, and there was even a table and chairs. “This is awesome!” said Casper. “I wouldn’t go quite that far, but it will sure beat sleeping under the trees when it storms.” “And when it gets cold, we can all snuggle to keep warm,” said Dane. “Down, Dane,” I said. “Rrruffff,” he said, imitating a dog. I was afraid that boy was going to be trouble. I did not like the way he looked at Casper, as if he was dying to seduce him. I had no fear that Casper would be unfaithful to me, but I was afraid Dane would be a pain in the ass. “We’ve got pots and pans,” I said. “We could use a few dishes.” “And cleaning supplies,” said Casper. “There’s a broom,” said Dane. “Good,” I said. I grabbed it and shoved it at him. “Here, use it.” “I’m not your slave.” “Hey, we’re all living here together. Casper and I will do our part, you can be sure of that, but you’re going to pull your weight, too.” “If I do, will you reward me with something special,” asked Dane, gazing at my crotch. “If you do, I won’t beat the crap out of you.” Dane swallowed. “How can I say no to that deal?” “There’s a resale shop in town. Casper and I will pick up a few things there, then get some cleaning supplies. You clean up the floor while we’re gone.” “Jawohl, Kommandant!” said Dane, saluting. I shook my head, and Casper and I walked out the door. “So what do you think of Dane?” I asked as we walked back out to the street. “I think he’s dying to get into your pants,” said Casper. “I think Dane is dying to get into everyone’s pants. I’m worried about him. All he seems to think about is sex. He’ll probably be loaded up with venereal diseases within six months.” “I hope not.” “I’m going to try to talk some sense into him, but he’s not big on listening.” “He does seem to have excess attitude. I’m sure he’ll liven things up,” said Casper. “No doubt.”

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“So, where is this resale shop you mentioned?” “We’re almost there. It’s not far from our new home.” Just a couple of minutes later, Casper and I entered the old house that was home to the shop. The entire house was full of used stuff. Most of it was clothes, but in what had once been a kitchen were kitchen items, appropriately enough. We found some old plates, really cheap, as well as some flatware, bowls, and glasses. We also picked out some plastic storage containers. Casper and I began to have fun. We were setting up house for the first time ever. Granted, it was just a glorified shack, but it was ours, sort of. We purchased some blankets for use as a bed and even pillows. We really lucked out when we found a pair of barely used sneakers that fit Casper. It was not a moment too soon because his toes were sticking out of the old pair. I bet we spent more than an hour rummaging around in the shop. There were even some magazines that were free for the taking. I found some fitness magazines, and Casper found some on dogs, horses, and travel. We’d been hard up for entertainment for a long time, so those magazines were a gold mine. One of our real finds was a kerosene lamp. We’d actually have light at night! Our purchases added up to less then twenty dollars. We had so much stuff we could barely carry it all. Casper and I decided to make a trip back to our place before shopping for cleaning supplies. I realized as we were walking along that we were both smiling. Only the night before I would have never thought we’d smile like that again, but I guess I’d been wrong. Dane had the place swept out by the time we returned, and it looked a good deal better. Casper and I unloaded our purchases on the table and departed again in search of cleaning supplies. We opted for the grocery store, since there wasn’t a K-Mart or any such place anywhere near Verona, certainly not close enough for those traveling on foot. Casper grabbed a cart, and we picked out some window cleaner, disinfectant, and furniture polish. I grabbed a bottle of dishwashing liquid, and Casper picked out some soap and shampoo. Now that we had a more permanent, indoor residence, we could regularly bathe and wash our hair. We also bought some laundry detergent for washing our clothes. While we were there, Casper and I shopped for groceries. We loved eating at Café Moffatt, but doing so could be expensive, so most of the time we would fix our own meals. We purchased bread, peanut butter, jelly, crackers, and a variety of other items that didn’t need refrigeration. With the camp stove we could do a bit of cooking, so we bought some oatmeal, canned soup, and canned spaghetti. We were quite excited when we found a dozen day-old donuts at half-price.

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Casper and I were on a sending spree, but we were always careful with our money. As long as I could keep working, we wouldn’t have to go without, but we were both well aware of what I had to do for that money, and the less often I had to work, the better. We walked back toward home loaded down with bags. We kept our eye out for “HELP WANTED” signs. If one ever appeared we’d be right in there trying for a job. Unlike Austin, I was more than willing to work at a minimum-wage job rather than sell myself on the street. He considered sex work easy money, but to me the cost was much greater. Every time I submitted my body to someone for cash, I felt a little more of my self-respect and dignity ebb away. I was ashamed of what I did for a living. I had no real choice in the matter, as the other choice was to starve, but it still left me feeling unclean. If I could find a minimum-wage job flipping burgers or cleaning up tables, I’d leave the life of a prostitute behind forever. Once home, we began work. Dane grudgingly pitched in to help. The place was fairly small, but it hadn’t been properly cleaned in some time. Little by little we whipped it into shape. I cleaned the windows, which was quite a task in itself. Apparently, Austin didn’t care whether he could see out or not. When I’d finished, we had far more light and a nice view in two directions. I almost wished I hadn’t cleaned the windows that faced the old mansion because it creeped me out, even in the daytime. When we were done our home was clean, but we were disgustingly dirty. Casper heated water on the small camp stove so we could have a bath, sort of. “You go first,” said Casper. “I’ll work on heating more water.” I stripped naked right there in the kitchen. Dane devoured me with his eyes. I was accustomed to being naked around other guys; I’d experienced it countless times in the locker room and showers at school, but Dane made me a bit uncomfortable. He was far too obviously attracted to me. I doused my hair in the sink of warm water and worked in shampoo. I left it in while I soaped up a washcloth and ran it over my body. Used washcloths and towels were part of our purchases at the resale shop. It wasn’t exactly easy bathing in a double sink and the floor got quite wet, but it would dry. I used the pitcher pump to rinse my hair. The water was a bit cool, but it was nearly as effective as a shower. Once I’d completely rinsed off and dried myself, I felt as good as new. “Okay, Dane, your turn,” said Casper. “I’ll go last.” “Okay, thanks,” said Dane.

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Dane stripped while I dressed. I didn’t ogle him as he had me, but I quickly checked him out to satisfy my curiosity. He had a nice little body—slim and firm, with a touch of muscle—but he wasn’t anything special. I much preferred Casper’s body. He too was slim and firm, and while he didn’t have much muscle, he had great definition and a beautiful shape. Okay, I was a bit biased because I was in love with him, but Casper was still beautiful. Hopefully, Casper and I would stay together until we both grew wrinkled and bald, and I knew I’d love him even then. It’s too bad so few people possessed the ability to look beyond appearance. Casper had a beautiful personality, but that’s not what attracted me to him at first. I bet there were a lot of people out there who missed out on wonderful relationships because they couldn’t get past someone’s looks. Let’s face it, most people aren’t good looking. Before I met Casper there were plenty of guys I didn’t look at twice because they were overweight or just plain unattractive. Some of those guys would probably have made wonderful boyfriends, but I’d never know, because that initial attraction wasn’t there. I was a little put out with myself for not being able to look beyond physical beauty. I could do so with friends easily. I could care less what my friends looked like. When it came to a romantic relationship, however, looks were far too important to me. If Casper lost his beauty I knew I’d still love him, but if he hadn’t been good looking in the first place, I would never have become interested in him. It was a flaw in my character, but I didn’t know how to fix it. Casper took his turn bathing last, and Dane checked him out, too. He knocked it off when he noticed my angry glare. Austin was right; Dane was insatiable. I hadn’t spent much time with him, but Dane’s head was turned by every decent-looking guy. I’m sure he would have done it with Casper or me at the drop of a hat. The boy was quickly turning into a slut. I wasn’t too keen on having Dane around, but what could I do? I couldn’t exactly kick him out. I didn’t own the place we shared any more than he did. I also didn’t like the idea of him being completely on his own. Even if he was sixteen as he claimed, he was obviously immature and needed someone to look after him. Casper was only fifteen, but he was far more mature than Dane. “Okay, dudes, I’m gonna hit the streets. It’s time to make some cash,” announced Dane after the show was over. “See you later, Dane,” said Casper. “Bye.” “He’s sure eager,” said Casper when Dane had gone.

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“Yeah, Dane has no reservations whatsoever about selling his body. You know, I offered to help him out. I told him I’d give him money for food so he wouldn’t have to prostitute himself, and he just laughed at me. He couldn’t wait to get out there.” “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to do that,” said Casper. “He sure acts as if he loves it. He’s working far more than he needs to. I bet he’s walking around with a few hundred bucks in his pocket at least. I hope he doesn’t get himself into trouble with it. With that kind of cash he could develop a major drug problem fast.” “You think there are drug dealers here?” “There are drug dealers everywhere, Casper, and he already knows one: Austin. I’m sure he’d provide the goods if Dane asked. Austin will do anything to make a profit. I know he has drugs. He offered me some to help me cope. I turned him down, of course,” I said, gazing at Casper meaningfully. “That’s because you’re smart,” he said, hugging me. “Just not smart enough to survive without letting guys into my pants for cash.” “I’m sorry, Brendan.” “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Casper. It’s just life, and sometimes life sucks. Not all of it has to suck, however. Let’s get out that stuff we bought and make this place look more like a home.” “Yeah!” said Casper, making me laugh. We unpacked dishes, glassware, and flatware. Nothing quite matched, but we had done a rather good job of picking out things that looked good together. We put everything away in the old built-in cupboards, then set about making ourselves a comfortable little bed with the blankets and pillows we’d purchased. We’d bought some for Dane, too, and these we placed on his sleeping bag. Casper went outside and picked some flowers, which grew in abundance around the old mansion. They were likely the remnants of old gardens. Casper chose some daisies and black-eyed Susans, which he arranged and placed on the center of the table in one of the tumblers we’d purchased. “I’d nearly forgotten these,” said Casper as he pulled out his “new” sneakers. He took off his worn-out pair and put on the new ones. “They’re comfy.” “Even better, your toes don’t stick out,” I said. Dane was gone, so we made good use of our time and our new bed. I took Casper in my arms and kissed him. We slowly undressed each other, sank down onto our bed, and made unhurried love. Sex with anyone else could never compare to making love with Casper. The physical acts might be the same, but love

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added a dimension that couldn’t be duplicated or faked. Sex and lovemaking might appear to be similar, but in truth they are entirely different things. After we’d dressed once more, we set out to make ourselves a nice supper. We’d purchased a dozen eggs that morning. We had no refrigerator, but we figured they’d keep for a few hours. I whipped up scrambled eggs in a pan on the little cook stove, using the entire dozen. Casper gathered some wild onions, which looked a good deal like chives, and cut them up to add to the eggs. We also had pepper and salt, so I was able to season them nicely. While I finished cooking the eggs, Casper set the table with our newly purchased dinnerware. I divided the eggs between us and we had cold water from the pitcher pump to drink. For dessert, there were day-old donuts. It was quite the little feast. Casper and I sat and ate while we talked. It felt homey and comfortable. The eggs were delicious, if I do say so myself. By the time I’d finished and polished off a couple of donuts, I was quite full. It was a rather pleasant feeling for one who had been starving not so very long ago. I hoped we could live in the summer kitchen for a good long time. It was unlikely that anyone would discover our hiding place. I didn’t know what we’d do when winter came, as there was no way to heat our little home. There was an old wood burning range, but I feared we might burn the place down if we tried to light a fire in it. We’d survived the winter before by renting a motel room, so perhaps we could do the same in Verona. That would take a lot more money, so I’d have to work the streets more. I didn’t like the idea of that, but I guessed I’d do what I had to do. I all too well remembered traveling in the bitter cold before we reached Purity. I thought I’d never be warm again, and Casper had caught pneumonia from the cold and very nearly died. I turned my mind from the past and the future. It was summer, and there was no winter wind to fear. Someone in my position couldn’t worry too much about what was to come. Casper and I were in a hand-to-mouth situation. I hoped we could hang on until I was twenty-one. I could get my hands on my trust-fund money then. We could go to school, have a real home, and maybe a future. That was four years away, however, which seemed like forever. I didn’t even want to contemplate four years of selling my body to whoever would pay.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I awakened the next morning with Zoë in my arms and Seth standing over us, gawking. Zoë stirred and awakened, too. She must’ve seen Seth out of the corner of her eye, because she leaned over, kissed me on the lips, and said, “You were wonderful last night, Sean.” Seth’s mouth dropped open. Zoë turned in bed. “Good morning, Seth.” Zoë got up. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be right back.” Seth watched her go, then stared at me. “But…you’re a fag,” he said. “Maybe I’m bi. Either way, I’m no virgin like you.” “I hate you,” he said and turned away. His partner in crime, Avery, was still sleeping, but I was sure Seth would tell him all about discovering Zoë and me in bed. He’d probably tell Mom, too, and I bet she’d be delighted. I wish I could have enjoyed baiting the little monster who shared my room, but there was no joy for me. I felt listless and depressed. I would’ve just lain there all day if Zoë hadn’t returned and forced me to get up. Several minutes later, Zoë and I were seated at the kitchen table with my mother. Mom had made us waffles, and I ate without tasting them. Zoë expressed her appreciation, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it, either. I’d lost my boyfriend and she her friend. Memories of losing Marty the first time flooded my mind. Intellectually, I knew the pain would lessen with time, but that knowledge helped me not at all. It’s like when someone tells you things will get better or that time heals all wounds. You know it’s true, but it still doesn’t help. Zoë pushed me out the door, and I walked by her side to school. The day before, when Jimmy had beaten me senseless in the alley, seemed a million years

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ago. I would gladly have taken another such beating if it would have brought Marty back. “If you need me today, you just come and get me, no matter what anyone says,” said Zoë. “Thanks, Zoë. Thanks for helping me.” “I’m here for you, Sean.” “I know losing Marty is hard for you, too. I don’t know how you keep yourself together so well.” “Helping you helps me.” Zoë smiled sadly and took my hand. Her presence comforted me as it had the night before. The halls seemed quieter at school, but maybe it was just my imagination. My surroundings didn’t register quite right. It was kind of like I wasn’t really there. When I reached my locker I stopped, stared, and broke down in tears. Zoë began to cry, too. “How could anyone be so cruel?” she said. Someone had drawn a crude picture of a body hanging from a tree. I couldn’t look at it. I turned away. I’d do without my books. The next thing I remembered I was sitting in class beside Zoë. We must have walked there, but I had no memory of it. The image of Marty’s lifeless body hanging from the tree kept appearing in my mind. I’d dreamed of it the night before. I’d had another nightmare, but mercifully I couldn’t remember the details. All I knew was that it was about Marty. The nightmare hardly mattered anyway. My real life was a nightmare. Welcome to Hell. The days before had been difficult, but this one was harder still. Sometimes I felt as if I could barely move forward. Grief and loss pressed down on me until I could hardly breathe. I was still called a faggot in the halls. I was still pushed around. What did any of that matter, however, compared to the loss of Marty? Lunch had previously been the highlight of my day. Marty and I had sat with the girls and enjoyed their company and shelter. I was glad Zoë was at my side to push me in the direction of her table; otherwise I don’t know if I could have forced myself to sit there. Memories of Marty were too fresh in my mind. Zoë sat down beside me, and the girls surrounded me as I set down my tray. Condolences came from every direction. The whole school knew what had happened to Marty. Murder in a small town was big news. The last such death had been that of Skye, and before him, Oliver. Someone was killing the gay boys of Verona again, but this time nobody cared.

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I wasn’t being quite fair. Zoë cared, and so did her friends. Girls seemed so superior to boys that I found myself wishing for the first time that I was straight. I wanted nothing to do with my own sex ever again. “Lemme go!” I turned at the sound of a frightened yell and saw Ken Clark being pulled toward me against his will by Jimmy Kerstadd. “Hey, fag,” said Jimmy as he neared. “I hear you’re fresh out of boyfriends, so I brought you another.” I stood; so did Zoë and most of the girls. “You think that’s funny?” asked Zoë. “You let him go right now.” “Yeah, I think it’s funny,” said Jimmy, releasing his hold on Ken. Jimmy turned his gaze toward me again. “We’re really gonna miss Marty around here,” he said. “He was one good cocksucker and even a bigger slut than you. I guess his days on his knees are over forever now.” Jimmy laughed, then pantomimed hanging himself with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He made a gurgling sound, then laughed again. It was more than I could take. I was filled with pain and grief, and that fucker stood right there and joked about my boyfriend’s death. Without thinking I roared, jumped right over the table, lashed out with my fist, and nailed Jimmy in the jaw. He stumbled backward in surprise, and I flung myself on him. I didn’t care what happened to me, but I was going to make that fucker pay for what he’d said about Marty. The entire cafeteria raced to the scene. I’d actually managed to knock Jimmy Kerstadd on his ass. I slugged him in the face three times before he could even begin to recover. He was twice my size with muscles bulging out everywhere, but I had the advantage of surprise and adrenaline. I dropped on this stomach and pounded his face. “Don’t—you—EVER—say—that—about—my—boyfriend—again!” I screamed as I pounded him. Jimmy nailed me in the face, but it was like I didn’t even feel it. I grabbed the sides of his head and proceeded to pound it against the floor. That’s when a couple of football players each grabbed one of my arms and pulled me off Jimmy. I fought against them and very nearly broke free. “I’ll fucking kill you!” I screamed at Jimmy. Jimmy shrank back from me, true fear in his eyes. I’m sure he never expected something like this from me.

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The assistant principal arrived on the scene, but I wasn’t in a listening mood. The football players had to help him escort me out. I kept trying to break free and get at Jimmy. I would have killed him if I could.

TAYLOR—JULY 1981 Brandon was delighted to hear from me when I called. Our conversation was short, but he said he’d be there by 6 p.m. the next evening. When I hung up the payphone, I frowned. “What’s the matter?” asked Marshall. “I’m not looking forward to telling Brandon what happened to Mark. I asked him to come and pick ‘us’ up, and I’m sure he’s expecting Mark.” “So don’t tell him.” “How can I not tell him?” “Listen, if we pull this off, this timeline will no longer exist, I think, so there will be no need to tell him. If we fail, well, you can tell him then. Why cause Brandon and yourself unnecessary pain?” “Yeah, I guess you’re right, but we’re going to have to make up a story.” “Just tell him the cops have been nosing around, and Mark thought it best if you two split up for a while, just until the heat is off. You decided to hide out in the last place anyone would think to look, Verona, and Nathan and I are along to keep you company.” “That’s simple enough.” “Simple lies are best. There’s less to remember.” “I hadn’t thought of that.” Things moved quickly. We informed the tribe of our imminent departure. They didn’t take it too badly, because we informed them we’d only be gone a few days, which would be true enough if we failed. If we succeeded, then it wouldn’t matter that we would never return. I took Ike along with me to work and explained my situation to Hugh. I didn’t tell him what was really going down, of course, but I explained that I absolutely had to leave for a few days. I offered Ike as a temporary replacement, and Hugh accepted. I spent the day training Ike, and his progress was promising. - 495 -

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Before we knew it, it was time to go. Marshall and Nathan met Brandon at the rendezvous point we’d set on the phone, then directed Brandon to another location where I was waiting. Perhaps I was paranoid, but I thought it a necessary precaution just in case Brandon’s phone was bugged or something. Marshall and Nathan had taken the back seat, so I climbed in the front. “Holy shit, Tay! I could walk right past you on the street without recognizing you!” I’d almost forgotten about my short black hair. “Where’s Mark?” Brandon asked next. I gave him our made-up story, all the while fighting back tears. I wasn’t entirely successful. Brandon patted my knee and said, “You’ll see him again soon, Taylor.” I just about broke down in tears then, because I knew I’d never see Mark again unless Marshall was right and Mark and I were both angels in the future. That seemed too far fetched to believe; then again, it wasn’t that much wilder than the rest of Marshall’s tale. Perhaps I was a fool for believing it, but he did have proof, and what did I really have to lose? My life was ruined anyway. At the very least, our wild adventure would keep my mind occupied. Anything was better than sitting and feeling miserable. Marshall gave me hope. I prayed he was right about everything. If he was, I’d be with Mark soon, and that thought took away all my grief. It was like old times being with Brandon, yet his presence was a painful reminder that things were not as they had been. Both Jon and Mark were gone. How I yearned for those happy days in Verona before Mark and I had been outed and I’d lost my home. That past was gone forever, and I knew I wouldn’t go back if I could. If Marshall’s story was true, then it was an example of how badly things could go wrong if one interfered with the past. I filled Brandon in on all the little parts of our lives that he knew nothing about, and there was quite a lot to tell. The miles slipped by as we talked. We stopped and bought groceries well before we reached Verona. Marshall had no idea how long it would take to complete our mission, but we wanted to be prepared just in case. We might have to hide out in Graymoor for days, and it wouldn’t do to have anyone, even Brandon, seen coming and going. Once there, we had to stay put. We stopped at a Burger King in Kokomo for a late supper. We actually went inside. It was a bit of a risk, but it was doubtful anyone would recognize me even if wanted posters were circulating. I looked so different with short black hair that

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sometimes my own reflection shocked me. It was still a bit disturbing to see someone else staring back at me from the mirror. My Whopper, fries, and Coke were heavenly. I’d eaten well in recent weeks, but I well remembered all the weeks of going without before that. Those memories had given me a true appreciation for food. I think I might actually have even been able to enjoy the lima beans at school if I were ever to return. Succeed or fail, however, I’d never be going back to high school. Those days were done. It was a bit disturbing to know that I’d be dead if Marshall and I succeeded in our task. If I really was meant to be an angel with Mark, then this was my one chance to be with him again. An eternity with Mark—now that was Heaven. He’d been gone only two days, and I missed him so much I thought I’d die. We reached Verona about half past nine and were soon parked near Graymoor. Brandon helped us carry in our supplies, then departed. I told him we’d contact him in a few days. I didn’t know if it was the truth or not. “Let’s get some sleep and we’ll search the library tomorrow,” said Marshall. “If the book is where it’s supposed to be, it’ll be easy to find; if not, we’ll have quite a search on our hands.” Nathan looked about fearfully. Like all Verona residents, he no doubt knew the legends of the old mansion well. He stuck close to me, often holding onto my arm. He was obviously determined to brave it out, however. I hoped we succeeded and Nathan really did have a future with Ethan. I couldn’t have wished anything more wonderful for both of them. I led the boys to my old bedroom. It seemed safe enough to do so. The last place the cops would expect to find me would be right back in my old hideout. I seriously doubted the town cops would recognize me if we came face to face. If we failed in our mission, I’d have to leave Verona again, but it was safe enough hiding out in Graymoor Mansion for the moment.

BRENDAN—JULY 1981 “Is Austin around?” I asked Dane as he stood in Austin’s customary place by the side of the street, displaying himself, shirtless, just like a miniature Austin. “He’s out on a job. He’ll probably be back in an hour or so.” “I guess I’ll wait.” “Do you need some cash?” “Yeah, I’m about out, so I need to work soon.” “I’ll hire you,” said Dane. “Huh?” “I said I’ll hire you. I’ll pay you for sex.” “Dane…” “Come on, Brendan. I want you. I have the cash, and I’m willing to pay. I’ll give you a hundred bucks, and we don’t have to tell Austin about it, so you can keep it all.” “I don’t think so, Dane.” “I’ll give you two hundred.” “No.” “Why not?” “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” “What’s the difference between me paying you for sex and some stranger paying you?” “That’s just it, you’re not a stranger. I know you. I live with you, too. It would complicate things and likely cause trouble.” “Come on, Brendan! I want you.” “You want everyone.” Dane shot me an angry glare.

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“Oh, and you’re so virtuous! You sell your ass on the street for cash just as I do. You might as well take my money as someone else’s. I’m a hell of a lot better looking than anyone else who’ll pay. You’d be stupid to turn me down.” “Then I’m stupid.” “I’ll give you two-fifty. Come on, Brendan, I’ll give you two-fifty to have sex with me. That will last you a good long while.” “No.” “Okay. I’ll give you five hundred bucks, Brendan, five hundred! You’d have to do at least five guys to make that much. With that kind of money you won’t have to turn another trick for a month, maybe longer.” I stood there in silence. I hated myself. I hated what I did to make a living. Every time I pulled off my clothes and let a stranger touch me I felt like I lost a little part of my soul. I disgusted myself. Dane was willing to pay me five hundred dollars. He was right; with that kind of money I wouldn’t have to work the streets for weeks. Go on, whore, do what you do best: Take his money and the let him use you, like you’ve let the others use you. You’re nothing but a piece of meat to be bought and sold. “Okay,” I said, feeling as if I’d given up my last shred of dignity. Dane grinned. He could hardly contain himself. The look he gave me was one of pure lust. “Come on,” he said. Dane rented a cheap motel room, which only served to heighten my sense of sleaziness. I was freshly bathed and the room was clean, but I felt dirty, like a worthless bit of filth. It wasn’t far from the truth. I was there to sell my body. I was a whore. “Take off your shirt, Brendan,” said Dane. I did as I was told, pretending I didn’t hate every second of it. I knew my job, and I’d do it like a good little whore. I’d pretend I was into whatever my customer wanted and never let him know for a moment how much I loathed having to let him touch me. “You used to play football, right?” asked Dane as he devoured my chest with his eyes. “Yeah, in another life.” “What position?” “Quarterback.” “Wow! I always wanted the quarterback at my school. This is a fantasy come true.”

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More like a nightmare, I thought to myself. Dane was reasonably good looking. If I wasn’t dating Casper and if Dane wasn’t paying me, I could’ve got into some action with him, but things weren’t like that. I was in love with Casper, and Dane was paying me five hundred bucks. “Let’s pretend I know you cheated on a test or something and if I talk you’ll get kicked off the team, so you have to do whatever I say,” said Dane. “Okay.” I hate this. I hate this! “Come here, quarterback,” said Dane. I obeyed. He pulled my face down toward him and kissed me. He attacked me with his lips and tongue. Dane’s hands were all over me. I just kept reminding myself of the five hundred bucks and how long it would last. The next two humiliating hours crawled by. Dane wanted to do everything. I performed like a trained animal, submitting to his every whim. I was a body without a soul. He used me for his pleasure. When he entered me, I cried out in pain. He was rough, pounding himself into me as if in revenge. I think he meant to hurt me so that I’d forever remember that he’d had me. He had no worry there. Whether he was rough or gentle, that evening was one I’d never be able to forget. We finished by showering together. I wanted that no more than I’d wanted anything that had happened between us, but as with all the rest, I had no choice. I was bought and paid for: Dane’s toy to use. At least it allowed me to wash off, not that it would make me clean. I’d never be clean again. Dressed once more and standing at the door, Dane handed me a wad of bills. Five-hundred bucks: That was the price for my dignity; that’s how much it took to convince me to throw my morals to the side. As I took the money, I felt changed, as if the old Brendan had died, and I missed him. We went our separate ways. Dane returned to the park, and I walked around town and then home, filled with dread. When would my life ever get better? When would it change? I feared very much the answer was never. Maybe I would have done better to just stay in the Cloverdale Center. At least there humiliation and immorality were forced upon me. I was the victim. Here, I humiliated myself and sold my morals of my own free will. I despised myself as I’d despised Brian, the evil orderly who’d raped me at the center. My shame was just as great, for I allowed myself to be raped for mere financial gain. When I arrived home Casper was looking at the pictures in a travel magazine by the light of the kerosene lamp. He stood, and I hugged him close. “I love you, Casper.”

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“I love you, too, Brendan.” Casper yawned. It was late, and I was exhausted. We lay back on our little bed, and I began to sob. I feared Casper would ask me why I was crying; instead, he held me in his arms without saying a word. I cried myself to sleep in his embrace. ✶

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The mere sight of Dane sickened me. My own reflection in the mirror would have done the same if we possessed one. I don’t know which disgusted me more—Dane for paying me for sex, or me for taking the money. Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a big deal to me. It’s not like it was the first time I’d sold my body. I was a whore, and that’s what whores did. Maybe it was because Dane was so young, and our time together left me feeling like a child molester. Maybe it was because he was so near my own age. Dane’s superior smirk didn’t help matters any. Every time he looked at me, it was as if he was saying, I’ve had you. Even worse, every time he looked at Casper it was as if he was laughing at him and saying, I fucked your boyfriend. Casper didn’t know Dane had hired me. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer the information. Perhaps I should have told him; perhaps then I wouldn’t have felt like I was keeping a dirty secret from him. The five-hundred dollars did mean I wouldn’t have to hit the streets for quite some time, and that was a relief. I can’t even begin to express how much I hated selling my body. Casper and I were frugal, he even more than I. We went for a Moffatt breakfast now and then, often for our supper rather than at breakfast time, but we cooked more often than not. Two weeks after Dane had hired me, he tried to do so again. He waited until Casper left and offered me another five hundred bucks to do it with him. I refused. “How do you have that kind of money to throw around?” I asked him. “Do you make that much?” “Hell, yeah, I make that much! It’s a sellers’ market. There are way more guys willing to buy than there are boys willing to sell, and the chances of getting it free around here are virtually zero. Thanks to the two fags who offed those boys and the one who tried to rape one of his friends, being queer around here is like a death sentence. Everyone lives in fear. “You’ve been with Mr. Geoffrey, right, the English teacher from the high school? You wouldn’t believe what he pays me to do it bare.” “Bare?”

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“Yeah.” “You’ve been doing it with him without protection?” “Yeah, wouldn’t you if he gave you a two hundred buck tip?” “Hell no, I wouldn’t, and you shouldn’t either! Do you know how dangerous that is?” “No, Mom,” said Dane in his best smartass tone. “You are such a stupid little shit! What if he’s positive?” “What, the AIDS thing?” “Yes, the AIDS thing. You could die.” “Oh come on! What are the chances of someone in this dinky little town having it? That’s a big-city disease.” “It’s an everywhere disease. Do you do it bare with other guys?” “Well, yeah, why not? They pay extra for it.” “Damn it, Dane! How can you be so stupid?” “Well, I’m stupid all the way to the bank.” “That money isn’t going to be of much use when you’re dead.” “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ve done it with Mr. Geoffrey, too. I know you have.” “But I was safe.” “You know, there’s a risk even if you are safe.” “Yeah, I know that. It’s one reason I’m scared now. You’re going around being as irresponsible as possible. What if you passed something onto me and I passed it onto Casper?” “Dude, the odds of that are like…I dunno, but it’s not going to happen.” “Don’t you ever come on to me again!” I yelled. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, even if you paid me ten thousand bucks!” “I already had you for five hundred,” sneered Dane. Without thinking, I slugged him in the face. “Fuck you!” I turned and walked away, for Dane’s safety. I wanted to slug him again and just keep on pounding him until he died. I was out of control. I couldn’t believe his stupidity. The boy wouldn’t live to see seventeen. I stormed out, walked past the great gates, and down the sidewalk, angry with Dane and with myself. I’d always hated violence. Yes, I loved knocking guys around on the football field, and I didn’t hesitate to throw a punch when it was necessary, but I didn’t like losing control. Dane’s smug stupidity had angered me. I shouldn’t have punched him. It was wrong. Dane was far from innocent, but he was still little more than a kid. I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that.

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Despite everything, I wished I could make Dane see what a terrible risk he was taking. He believed what too many boys his age believed, and what I’d once believed myself: that he was immortal and that bad things always happened to someone else. The truth was, they happened to everyone sooner or later. There was happiness to be found in life, yes, but there was pain and tragedy, too, and we all suffered our share—some of us more than our share. Dane thought he was invulnerable. He was young and healthy and strong and he couldn’t imagine things being any other way. The hard truth was that he possessed no special immunity. He was gambling with his health and his life, and if he kept it up, sooner or later he’d lose. I yearned for a better life for Casper and myself—and for Dane, too. How were we ever going to get there, however? I felt trapped. All I wanted was a little security, a safe place to live with Casper, and a decent job. Was that so much to ask? I had no choice but to go on and hope for a better future. In a perfect world Casper and I could have sought out help, but the world in which we lived wouldn’t help us. Our world would shove Casper into a foster home where likely as not he’d be abused. Our world would allow my parents to abandon me to the medical quackery of the Cloverdale Center. In our world, supposed Christians spewed venom against gays while pretending to be upright and moral when they were nothing more than schoolyard bullies who had never grown up. I despised people who preached that God hated gays. It was nothing but a lie and an excuse to discriminate against us. I gave up thinking such thoughts. I could’ve gone on for hours listing all that was wrong with the world, and it wouldn’t change a thing. All I could do is try to take care of Casper as best I could and carve out some kind of life for the two of us. Casper was more important than all the rest, and as long as I had him, my life had meaning. He was the world to me. I was lucky. Out of the billions of people on the face of the earth, I was the one who had Casper’s love, and I’d suffer any torment for it. ✶

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Many times in my life, I’ve worried about things needlessly. The horrors I imagined did not come to pass, but that was not so with my worries over Dane. Little did I know that my fears for him would be realized all too quickly. Dane didn’t live to be seventeen. It wasn’t AIDS or some other disease that got him, however; it was someone with a knife who wanted his money. It hap-

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pened not two weeks after our argument. Dane was a foolish kid, but he didn’t deserve to die. Austin found him not far from the park. He’d been stabbed three times, and it looked as if he might have been raped, but no one would ever know for sure, except whoever had killed him. He was already dead when Austin spotted him—his whole future gone, snuffed out, just like that. I walked back home in a daze after Austin had given me the news. I didn’t particularly like Dane, but he didn’t deserve to die—not like that, not at all. Maybe some lives were meant to be short, and maybe Dane had lived his life as he wanted, but I couldn’t help but feel that Dane had been cheated. He could have been so much more. He’d never know the kind of love I shared with Casper. That was the real pity. He’d never learned the difference between sex and love. He’d thought he had everything, when in reality he had nothing. I entered the old summer kitchen. My gaze fell on Dane’s rumpled sleeping bag and his few belongings. Casper and I had spoken to him only the evening before, and now he was gone. He was never coming back. “Hey,” said Casper, hugging me. “Hey, Babe.” “What’s wrong?” “Dane’s dead.” “Dead?” I nodded. “He was murdered last night, stabbed to death near the park. Austin found him.” Casper’s face fell. “I don’t know what to say, except the obvious: That’s horrible. Do they know who did it or why?” “No. Austin thought it might have been a robbery; Dane carried around a lot of money you know. It could have been a gay bashing or even a customer. You know Dane; he was a lot better at making enemies than friends.” “Do you really think it could’ve been a customer? I’m scared, Brendan.” “It could have been,” I said, thinking. “What is it?” asked Casper, after I’d stood silent for several moments. “I was just thinking about how some customers seem angry when they’re finished. I’ve had a couple who acted like they resented me. They’re into the sex, but once they get off, they…change.” “Brendan, don’t go out anymore. If one of Dane’s customers killed him…” “We don’t know who killed him, Casper, or why. It was likely a robbery.” “But maybe it wasn’t, Brendan. If it was one of his customers, the same guy might kill you, too. If it was a gay bashing, well, that’s just as bad. If someone has found out what you guys are doing…”

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“Casper, even if it was a customer or a case of gay bashing, what am I going to do? I work the streets because I have to, not because I want to. You know that.” “I know, Brendan, but I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I feel so guilty already. You’re out there…working, and I’m just a burden. You wouldn’t have to do it so often if it wasn’t for me…” Casper was on the verge of tears. I grabbed his chin and made him look at me. “You’re not a burden, Casper, you’re not! You’re the only thing in my life that matters. You’re all I’ve got. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have no reason to live. I don’t care if I have to sell myself on the street for the rest of my life; it’s worth it because I have you. Don’t you feel guilty for a moment, Casper. What you give me is beyond price. Your love redeems me, Casper. It gives me some dignity. Without you, I’d be nothing but a dirty whore, but you love me, Casper, so I know I’m more than that. You’re the only thing standing between me and destruction. Most boys who have to sell their bodies to survive, like me, end up as drug addicts just to deal with their horrible lives. They end up dead because they just don’t care anymore. I’m not like that, because I’ve got you. That time when Austin offered me drugs? I needed them, Casper; I needed them to deal with my life, and I needed them to forget. I refused them, though, Casper, because of you. Don’t you ever feel guilty. You’ve saved me.” Casper grabbed me and hugged me. He cried into my shoulder. I cried, too. Tears had welled up in my eyes as I spoke, and they came spilling out. Our lives were far from ideal, but we had each other and that’s all that mattered. “Don’t worry, Baby,” I said, petting Casper’s hair. “We’ve still got a lot of money left. I won’t have to do it again for quite some time. Maybe Boothe will come back before that, or maybe we’ll find a job. Things have to get better for us soon, Casper. We’re way overdue for some good luck.” “That’s for sure.” A few days later I read in the Verona Citizen that Dane’s parents came and claimed his body. I thought of them having to identify him in the morgue. What must that have been like for them? A horrid image came into my mind of Casper lying on a cold hard slab, covered with a sheet. The sheet was drawn back, and his blue-tinged face was revealed. I shivered. No, I couldn’t think about it. There was no reason to consider it. Casper was not Dane. He would not meet the same fate. I wouldn’t allow it.

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✶

✶

✶

✶

Casper and I stood, making out in the romantic light of a kerosene lamp. Nothing made me feel as content or safe as being in Casper’s arms. Sometimes we did nothing more than make out for over an hour. Casper’s body stiffened in my arms, and he pulled away from me. “I hear voices,” he said. I blew out the lamp and we stepped to the window. I could hear the voices now, too. Casper and I huddled together as they drew closer. The recent murder of Dane and now the sudden appearance of people where there’d been none before spooked us. What if Dane had been killed by gay bashers, and now they were coming for us? They’d only get to Casper over my dead body, that much was certain. Four boys came into view, illuminated by the bright moonlight. Casper and I were well hidden inside the dark summer kitchen. It was unlikely they’d see us. They would have to enter to discover our presence, but what if they already knew we were there? What if they’d made Dane talk before they’d killed him? All four of the boys looked to be about our age. All of them had dark hair, except the smallest one, who was blond. They were loaded down with bags and boxes. That was about as much as we could make out. They passed by the old summer house and headed toward the mansion. One of them flicked on a flashlight. “They’re going inside,” said Casper. “I didn’t think anyone ever went in that place.” “I wonder what they’re up to,” I thought out loud. I was relieved that they didn’t seem to be coming for us. Four against two were not odds I fancied. We could see the light through the windows, but couldn’t make anything out through the old lace curtains of the mansion. It was too dangerous to creep closer for a better look. After less than a minute, one of the boys came back out of the house. He passed the summer kitchen again and disappeared into the night. The light moved about inside for a few moments more, then it was gone. “I think we’d better keep the lamp off tonight, just in case. We don’t want them to know we’re here,” I said. I wondered who the boys were and what they were doing in the creepy old mansion.

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 I stood by my locker crying at the end of the day. I’d been suspended, but I shed no tears over that. I couldn’t have cared less. My boyfriend was dead, and no one cared. That bastard, Jimmy, had made a joke out of it. “Sean?” I looked up. It was Zoë. “Hi.” Zoë hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. “Let’s take a walk,” she said. I followed her like a lost puppy. I was so filled with heartache I didn’t know which way to turn. I thought going to school would help me deal with my pain, but what I’d found there only made it worse. How could people be so filled with hate? “I can’t deal with this,” I said. “I just can’t.” “I’m so sorry, Sean.” We walked in silence for a while. Finally, Zoë said, “They took Jimmy to the hospital.” “I hope he dies,” I said. “You don’t mean that.” “Oh, yes I do! He…you know what he did! He may have even helped kill Marty for all I know!” “But you don’t know.” “It doesn’t matter. I’m not one bit sorry for what I did to him. He’s lucky they pulled me off or I would’ve finished the job.” I put my head in my hands and pulled at my hair. “This has got to end!” I said. “Sean, you’re scaring me.” “I’m sorry, but it’s got to. I can’t take it anymore! The way I see it, I’ve got two options: kill myself or try to put things back the way they were.” - 507 -

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“You can’t kill yourself, Sean.” “Then I guess I’ve only got one option, huh?” “What are you going to do?” “I’m going to go to Graymoor and get that book. Then, I’m going to see if there’s a way to undo whatever Marshall did to change things.” “Sean…” “What? What are you going to tell me: that it’s useless, that I’ll fail? I don’t care. I’ve got to try!” “Sean, Graymoor is dangerous. There’s something in there; everyone knows it. No one who has gone in has ever come out alive.” “I came out alive, and what do I care if I die trying? As far as I’m concerned, I’m dead already. Listen, Zoë, I know you want to help, but I tried it your way. I tried to go to school and deal with what happened, but I couldn’t, okay? They wouldn’t let me!” “Then let me help you. I’m going in with you.” “No, it’s too dangerous.” “I’m going whether you like it or not,” said Zoë. “You can try to ditch me if you want, but I’ll just follow you in. If you’re going to do this, I’m coming along.” Zoë had a determined look on her face. I knew there was no use arguing. “Let’s get some flashlights,” I said. “We’re going to need them in there.”

TAYLOR—JULY 1981 Marshall, Nathan, and I settled into our room. We pulled the heavy drapes so no light could escape and lit the kerosene lamps. I would have been happy to be back home in Graymoor, but there’d been no joy in my heart since Mark died. He was too much a part of me. When he died, part of me died, too. Only the thought that we might soon be back together brought me happiness. “It’ll be okay, Taylor,” said Marshall, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Soon this will be less than a memory, and you’ll be with Mark again. I’m so sorry I interfered. I don’t know what I was thinking.” “Your heart was in the right place,” I said. We all tensed as we heard footsteps. They were coming right down the hall. Marshall grabbed a flashlight and we rushed out the door, but there was nothing to be seen. We heard laughter in the distance, evil sounding cackling. A door opened and closed on its own down the hallway, then the same door opened again and slammed, causing me to jump in response to the deafening noise. Nathan was firmly attached to my upper arm. “Oh, shit!” I said as we reentered our room. The west wall appeared to be bleeding, and the words, “Get Out,” had formed there. Marshall was mesmerized. “I’ve never seen anything like this in Graymoor,” he said. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I began to tremble. Nathan clasped his hands about my abdomen, and I hugged him close. “You know a lot more about Graymoor than you let on, don’t you?” I asked Marshall as he stared at the message on the wall. “Yes,” said Marshall. “As I said, my friend Sean and his family own it in my time. I’ve had some interesting experiences in this house: more than I could tell you about in one night.” He paused. “Do you hear that?” I strained to listen. - 509 -

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“Yes.” “Come on!” Marshall grabbed my wrist and pulled Nathan and me out the door. As we rushed down the hall the sound became clearer. Someone was playing the large pump organ in the downstairs parlor. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go down there, but I didn’t want to remain in our room either, not after “Get Out” had appeared written in blood on the wall. As soon as we reached the parlor, the music stopped, and utter silence fell. Marshall shined his flashlight on the organ, but there was no one there. We heard a moan in some distant part of the house, and nearer to hand there was the evil sounding laughter again. It sounded much like a teenaged boy. Nathan and I held hands, and I think I gained as much comfort from the physical contact as he did. “Graymoor isn’t usually this active,” said Marshall, just as one of the many loveseats in the room slid across the floor and bumped into me. Both Nathan and I cried out in fright. Candles and lamps began to light in the room. We all turned in circles watching. In all the nights I’d been in Graymoor with Mark and all those I’d stayed there with Marshall, I’d never seen anything like it. There were footsteps, and the odd disembodied voice, which was disturbing enough, but that was nothing compared to what was happening now. Marshall closed his eyes and concentrated. “I feel Devon here. Yes, he’s here, but he’s far too weak a spirit to be doing these things: too recently dead. There’s someone else here, more than one entity. They don’t want us here.” “I think the ‘Get Out’ notice in blood on the wall made that clear enough,” I said. Nathan and I cried out in fear as a fire burst to life in the fireplace. One moment the hearth was empty and still and the next a bright blaze exploded into existence. I squinted in the sudden glare as the roaring flames licked at the mantle. “Where are you?” asked Marshall to the air, his eyes still closed. “Where are…There, got you. Interesting, Devon doesn’t want us to get to the book. He doesn’t want us to undo what has been done. He…” I jerked Marshall out of the way as a vase hurled of its own accord from across the room, just barely missing his head. It shattered upon the wall. “We’ve got trouble,” he said, looking at me. “I kind of gathered that.”

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“Devon wants to stop us. He’s far, far too weak to do anything on his own, but he’s managed to awaken the spirits of this house, or more precisely he’s been able to call them to his aid. We are in grave danger.” “What do we do?” Sheer panic was rising inside me. I wanted more than anything to run screaming from the house. Nathan held onto me tightly. “We can’t wait until tomorrow. We need to go to the library right now!” We turned and headed for the stairway. Another loveseat scooted across the floor and nearly tripped us up, but we jumped around it. I could feel Nathan trembling with fear as he held my hand. Flickering orange light licked at the darkness upstairs. Moans and groans began to issue forth and did not stop. Before we’d reached the bottom stair one of the many parlor windows exploded, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. It was only the first of many. One after another the windows shattered, showering the interior with debris. The din of breaking glass was deafening. “With all this racket the cops will come,” said Marshall. “That’s just what you want, isn’t it Devon?” Marshall looked at me. “We’ve got to hurry. We might not have much time.” Just as we began to climb once more, we were forced to jump back. The grandfather clock that had stood on the second floor landing for more than a hundred years was hurtled down the stairs toward us. It crashed in ruin, sending splinters of wood and glass flying. The sound it made was horrifying. Nathan’s eyes were wild with terror. We stumbled over the ruins of the clock and made our way up the stairs. How little time we had became apparent as we reached the second floor. Smoke was rolling down the hall, and the flicker of flames was visible to our left. We raced on up the stairs, shielding ourselves from flying glass and other debris. The whole house began to shake as if in the throes of an earthquake. I could hear windows shattering near and far. Those that self-destructed near at hand were the most terrifying. They didn’t just break; they detonated as if explosives were attached to them. I feared we’d all be cut to ribbons. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Graymoor was being hit with a tornado, but I’d glimpsed the night through one of the ruined windows and all was calm outside. The storm was within. Doors were slamming everywhere, as if someone was hurling them shut with all their might. The result was a sound like that of a shotgun going off. The smoke grew worse as we climbed up and up, and we began to choke on it. Flames were spreading on the fourth floor. Soon the house would be engulfed, if it didn’t shake itself to pieces first. Great crashes issued forth from the distance as if parts

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of the mansion were crashing down. Nearer to hand, bits and pieces of the ceiling rained down upon us. There was no longer any need to worry about what would happen if we failed. If Marshall was unable to reverse the spell, Graymoor would crush us to death. There was no way we’d make it out of there alive. Halfway down the fourth-floor hallway we slammed to a halt as a wall of fire engulfed the floor and walls. A specter of horrifying countenance swooped toward us from the flames, sending us all diving for the floor. Nathan was crying, and I shook with terror. Marshall, however, had a look of anger and determination on his face. He climbed to his feet, jumped through the flames, and ran on. I pulled Nathan to his feet, and we ran after Marshall. We raced down the hallway in sheer terror. Marshall yanked open the door to the library. We were stunned motionless by the sight before us for a moment, but Marshall jerked Nathan and me inside and closed the door. I dodged to the right as an ancient tome whizzed past my ear and slammed into the door. Books flew in all directions like a flock of birds gone insane. We dodged and ducked to keep from being knocked in the head. An especially large and heavy volume hit me in the chest hard and nearly knocked the wind out of me. “Well, this complicates matters,” said Marshall, far too calmly.

BRENDAN—JULY 1981 Casper and I kept a lookout for awhile, but soon gave it up as there was nothing more to see. The boy who had departed did not return, and there was no sign of the other three. Casper and I lay down on our bed, still spooked by the sudden appearance of strangers in our private little world. We returned to making out, more to comfort each other than anything else. After several minutes of tongue wrestling, both Casper and I were getting worked up. We were just getting ready to get into some serious lovemaking when Casper put his hand on my chest. “Do you hear that?” “What?” “It sounds like…music.” “I don’t hear anything.” “Listen.” I strained my ears, and sure enough I could hear the faint strains of music. “Let’s take a closer look,” said Casper, his curiosity obviously getting the better of him. We got up and put on our shoes. I grabbed a flashlight, and we crept outside. The music was plain to hear now. It was coming from inside the mansion. “It’s an organ playing,” said Casper. He was right; it sounded like an old pump organ. We crept right up to the windows near the source of the noise and peered in, but could see nothing. “You think those boys are playing the organ?” asked Casper. “They must be.” My fear of the boys began to ebb. If they were messing around with an organ, it was far more likely they’d come to explore the old haunted mansion than to cut our throats. I’d long harbored a curiosity about what was inside the old house, and I yearned to enter now, but it just wasn’t safe. Besides, Austin had warned - 513 -

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me that no one ever went inside for fear of what lurked within the halls. The boys were in there, however, so if it was safe for them, maybe it was safe for me. I’d have to give some thought to exploration after they’d gone. I heard voices, then laughter, but it was hard to make them out. I thought I heard a distant crash, like something breaking, but I wasn’t sure. “They must be vandals,” said Casper. Obviously, he’d heard the crash, too. More noises followed closely on the heels of the first, growing louder. “What are they doing in there?” I asked. I sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?” Casper pointed to the second floor. “It’s on fire!” Our attention was held only momentarily by the flickering flames, for the window nearest to us exploded. Both Casper and I jumped back, but we were unharmed. All the glass seemed to have flown into the house. We watched in astonishment as windows began to shatter all over the house, on every floor, right up to the tower. They didn’t just break as if a rock had been thrown through them, but exploded as if a stick of dynamite had gone off near them. What was truly weird is that, just as with the first window, most of the debris blew into the house, rather that out of it. I guess I should say the windows were imploding, rather than exploding. Whatever they were doing, they were detonating one after another all over the place. I pulled Casper away from the downstairs windows as more of them shattered with tremendous force. “What’s going on?” cried Casper, clearly frightened. “I have no idea,” I said, astonished at the sight before me. We backed further away from the mansion. Windows were blowing apart all over the house. There was no way three boys could be breaking that many windows that fast. Something else was going on. The entire structure began to shake, yet the ground beneath our feet was still. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Casper grabbed my arm, and we both turned as we heard sirens in the distance. “Come on!” I said. “We’ve got to get out of here.” “But what about those boys? They’re trapped!” I was so shocked by what was happening I’d momentarily forgotten all about the boys inside. Casper and I couldn’t be found here, but we couldn’t just let those boys die either. “You get out of here,” I said. “Go to our old campsite. I’ll meet you there.” I started for the house, but Casper grabbed my arm. “I’m going with you.” “It’s too dangerous!”

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“I’d rather die with you than lose you, Brendan. We’ll either survive this together or die together.” I smiled at him and hugged him. I knew there was no use arguing with him. “Let’s go.” We plunged through the door we’d seen the boys enter. I snapped on my flashlight. We were in a vast kitchen. The boxes and bags the boys had carried in were sitting on a large table. “Groceries,” I said. We pushed on through a door and found ourselves in a huge parlor. “Holy crap!” said Casper. My mouth dropped open. I felt as if we’d stepped into some kind of palace, but it wasn’t the ornate furnishings and immense dimensions of the room that stunned me. We’d walked in expecting to find darkness, but candles and lamps were burning in every corner of the massive room, and a fire roared in the fireplace. Some of the candles had been knocked over and the curtains were beginning to blaze. Casper and I ran across the room, glass and debris crunching under our sneakers. There was no time to explore. It was only a matter of time before the dry old house was engulfed in flames. Our flashlights cut through the dust and smoke, revealing a massive stairway. We raced to it and followed it up to the next floor. “What’s that?” asked Casper, clutching my arm as we reached the landing. Moans and laughter issued forth near and far. The air about us was thick with smoke, but with something else, too. I felt as if we were surrounded by spirits. The organ began to play again, sending a shiver up my spine. We raced back down the stairs, but there was no one there. The organ was playing itself! Casper took my hand. We turned from the eerie sight and climbed the stairs once more. “They could be anywhere,” I said. “Hey! Guys! Where are you?” I yelled. “Most of the noise is coming from above,” said Casper. We climbed up and up, coughing from the smoke. We reached the second floor again, then the third, and still we climbed. At last we reached the top. I trembled from head to toe in fear. Fire and smoke were pouring into the hallway from some of the rooms, but that’s not what frightened me. There was a horrible, enraged screaming and moaning coming from everywhere at once, as if the Gates of Hell had been opened and the tortured souls within were crying out in pain. I called out to the boys who were lost somewhere in the dying house, but I could barely hear myself over the din. “There’s great anger here, horrible anger,” said Casper. “Can you feel it? It’s as if something is willing every living soul to be dead.”

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We wandered down the hallway, searching for the boys, calling out to them. “This is hopeless,” I said. “We’ll never find them in time.” We neared the end of the hallway. I heard what sounded almost like a chant. It was in a strange language that I could almost, but not quite, make out. I choked on the smoke, and Casper coughed beside me. We were nearly out of time. If we didn’t find the boys soon, we’d all be dead. I grasped the doorknob in my hand and pulled open the door…

SEAN—FEBRUARY 1998 As we passed through the massive iron gates of Graymoor Mansion, I purposely looked away from the tree where Marty’s lifeless body had been hanging the night before. Zoë grabbed my arm with a steel-like grip and cried out, “Sean!” I looked to see her staring at the tree. She was trembling and crying. I followed her gaze with dread, and there hung Marty’s lifeless corpse still; only it couldn’t have been Marty. They’d cut him down and taken him away the night before. I looked on in horror as the lifeless eyes turned in our direction and Marty’s hoarse voice said, “Get out!” Zoë screamed. I grabbed her and pulled her toward the house. “It’s not real, Zoë, it’s not real. I don’t know what that thing is, but it’s not Marty.” I was trembling with a mix of terror, grief, and anger. Whatever that thing was, or whoever put it into our minds, it was cruel beyond belief. The porch groaned as if it might collapse beneath our weight. I pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t give. I hurled myself against it, but all I managed to do was hurt my shoulder. We tried the kitchen door next, but it wouldn’t budge either. “This doesn’t make sense. I came out this door only a few weeks ago! It was standing wide open then.” “Maybe the house doesn’t want us to come inside.” “Not the house. Something or someone doesn’t want us to come in. Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe something fears we’ll succeed.” “How could anyone but us know things have been altered?” asked Zoë. “Who knows what’s possible and impossible? Several weeks ago, I thought being shoved into another reality was impossible, but here I am. Come on, all the windows are gone. It can’t stop us getting in that way.”

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We found the nearest window and climbed in. The moment we crossed the threshold the moaning and groaning started and it never ceased. It set the hair on the back of my neck to standing on end. Zoë screamed, “Something touched me!” I turned to her. “Zoë, why don’t you go back? This isn’t safe. It’s not safe at all.” “Only if you come with me.” “I can’t do that.” “Then I’m coming with you.” We made our way across the immense, ruined parlor. It was almost unrecognizable as my old home. The ceiling and parts of the walls were blackened from some old fire, the windows were broken out, and the furniture lay in ruin. All was damp and decayed. It smelled like the inside of a tomb. “Sean, leave this place,” said a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere. “Get out while you can.” “Who’s there?” I asked. “Edward? William? Is that one of you?” I received no answer. “Come on,” I said to Zoë. “The sooner we get to the library, the better.” Zoë and I made our way to the stairs, our flashlights cutting through the gloom. There was fog inside the house—either that or the dust was so thick it looked like fog. I sensed evil in the house as I had on the day I’d bolted from it. There was something there in this reality that was not in the other. The Graymoor I knew could be frightening, but this one…this one felt as if it was built on the entrance to Hell. Marty appeared on the steps above us, pointing his finger at us. “Get out!” he screamed in a gurgling voice, as if even now he was still being strangled. The very sound of his voice made my heart freeze, for it was Marty’s voice. I choked on my own sobs as I shook in terror. Marty looked so very real. His skin was a bluish-gray, and his eyes bulged out slightly. A noose hung around his neck, which was turned at an odd angle. Zoë could not move, but I took a step toward the apparition. “You’re not Marty! I know you’re not!” “I am Marty,” said the fearful being before us. “I’ve come to visit you from Hell, to warn you to change your ways and leave this place forever!” “Liar!” I charged forward while Zoë clawed at the back of my shirt, trying vainly to catch me and hold me back. I passed through whatever it was before us and fell to my knees, clutching my heart. I was icy cold, as if my body temperature had

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plummeted, but almost immediately I began to warm up. Tears filled my eyes, but what I felt most was anger. I was more determined than ever to set things right. “That was unpleasant,” I said, climbing to my feet. “Unpleasant?” groaned Zoë. “That’s all you have to say about that thing!” “What else is there to say? Come on. I think we’d better hurry.” The stairs groaned under our weight, letting me know that some force was at work in Graymoor. The stairs couldn’t have been that damaged in the long-ago fire. I had the feeling something was trying to pull them apart to keep us from making it to the library. I had news for whatever it was: There was more than one stairway in Graymoor. I pulled Zoë along as quickly as possible. The moaning and groaning that had begun when we first entered continued. We heard screams in distant and not-so-distant parts of the house. The organ down in the parlor began to play loudly, even though I’d noted as we passed that it’d been destroyed. “It’s as if this place is coming alive,” said Zoë. Her words could not have been truer. The eerie organ tune suddenly began to play backwards, faster and faster and louder and louder, until Zoë and I covered our ears. As we hurried on I could swear I saw the dust surrounding us flowing up. Zoë screamed as shards of glass began to fly toward the windows. I slammed to a halt and watched in fascination as the massive windows on the second-floor landing began to reassemble themselves. Something smacked me hard in the back, knocking me to the side. Zoë and I looked on as the fragments of a ruined grandfather clock flew up the stairs and became whole again, then began to strike the hour. “This can’t be good,” I said. “Maybe time is flowing backwards. Maybe everything is being put back as it was, just as you wanted,” suggested Zoë. “Then where’s the fire? This place burned. If time is flowing backward, it should unburn. We wouldn’t be here, either. No, this is bad, something very bad is about to happen. Come on. Hurry!” I felt panicky, as if I was near a bomb that was on a path to detonation. Somehow I instinctively knew that what was going on around us was not a good thing. We climbed higher, and the horrible din continued. The stairs began to shake under our feet. I pulled Zoë along. We were nearly to the fourth-floor landing. We were within a few steps of the top when the stairs began to tear from the wall. The risers and supports came loose as if some giant hand had grabbed them and was wrenching them from the wall.

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“Jump!” I scream as I flung myself forward. I barely managed to get enough of my upper body on the landing to keep from falling to my death. As it was, I had to claw and scramble my way up, my feet kicking nothing but air. Zoë screamed behind me, and her scream fell away. I pulled myself completely onto the landing and looked down. The stair had completely collapsed and there was no sign of Zoë anywhere. I shined my light down into the darkness and could just barely make her out among the rubble. I could tell from the way her body lay that she’d fallen to her death. Zoë was gone. I choked back a sob. There was no time for tears. I’d cry later if I lived long enough, which I was beginning to sincerely doubt. I climbed to my feet and rushed along the hallway, growling with anger. I had no idea how much time I had left before it got me, too. The house was alive around me. Time was peeled back, and Graymoor looked more and more as I remembered it. It wasn’t the restored Graymoor of my parents, but Graymoor as it had been on the day we moved in. The burn marks began to disappear, and holes in the flooring filled. The windows I passed continued to reassemble themselves as if ghosts were putting together a puzzle. I wanted more than anything to stand and watch the miraculous sight, but I knew there wasn’t a moment to spare. I ran to the end of the hall, my flashlight cutting through the flowing dust. I grasped the handle of the library door, turned it, and pushed. The door held fast. I threw myself against it, but it wouldn’t budge. I hurled myself against it harder and harder, hurting my shoulder, until at last it flew open with a shower of splintered wood. I burst into the room, and there on the table lay the book. I had no clear idea of exactly what it was I was going to do, but if there was an answer, it lay within the pages of the ancient, leather-bound tome. That’s where the trouble had started. I stepped toward it, then heard an ominous sound— rather, I should say the ominous lack of sound. I looked quickly up at the now completely reassembled windows and knew that my time was up. With a sound akin to that of a bomb going off, the windows imploded, sending large, razor sharp shards of glass hurtling toward me faster than I could imagine. From the din it sounded as if every window in the house had blown at the same time. I opened my mouth to scream, knowing that I was a fraction of a second from death.

TAYLOR—JULY 1981 “Look for a book in Middle English,” said Marshall. “It’s leather-bound, not that that will be of much help.” Marshall, Nathan, and I began to snatch books out of the air. It was a difficult task to open each book and peer at what was inside in the dim light. To make matters worse, we had to continually dodge all the others: hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. Not one was left upon the shelves. Despite my efforts I was repeatedly pelted with books on all parts of my body. I knew I’d be covered with bruises. One got me in the side of the head, and I thought I was going to black out. Nathan looked absolutely terrified, but he pushed his fear aside to help. “Oh, this is intolerable!” said Marshall. “Edward! William! If you’re here, we need your help!” A moment later a large tome flew straight into Marshall’s hand. He opened it and grinned. “Thanks! Now if you could keep these books off us, it would be much appreciated.” Marshall pulled us into a corner, and indeed it did seem as if we were being sheltered. Books continued to sail toward us, but they were knocked off course by other books as if someone was chucking them to deflect those sent in our direction. A few managed to make it through, but our situation was much improved. Marshall quickly thumbed through the pages. “If I can find the original spell, perhaps the counter spell will be near it.” I could hear sirens outside: fire trucks likely, but perhaps the cops, too. Smoke was wafting into the room, even through the closed door. The floor was growing warm. We were nearly out of time. If the spirits didn’t get us, the smoke soon would. If we managed to survive both, then the cops would grab us, and that would be that. - 521 -

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“Where are you? Where are you?” said Marshall, talking to himself as he thumbed through the book. I held the flashlight for him, trying to ignore the horrifying screams that issued forth now from every direction. I’d never been so terrified in my life. Nathan was firmly attached to my side. “Here it is, the spell that I used to alter the past. Now…Yes! It’s here!” said Marshall, grinning at me. I looked down at the page, but could make little of it. I recognized a few words, but most of it might just as well have been French. Marshall had said it was written in Middle English. I’d heard of it, but had never seen it before. Marshall read out instructions in Middle English which I understood not at all. Suddenly he stopped and looked at me, his eyes full of dread. “What?” I asked. “The counter spell is much more complicated than the original.” “Does that mean we can’t do it?” I asked. I looked around the room, books were still flying everywhere, but that wasn’t our biggest problem. I was beginning to cough from the smoke, and the floor was growing ever warmer beneath us. If we couldn’t perform the spell, if we couldn’t undo what Marshall had done, we were going to die. I had serious doubts about our chances of escaping Graymoor alive. “The spell calls for blood, the blood of the affected,” said Marshall. “You altered the flow of time by saving me,” I said. “That would make me the affected, right?” Marshall nodded. “What do I have to do?” Marshall looked down at the book and back up at me. He was pale as a sheet. “You have to die. I have to kill you.” I just looked at him for a moment before speaking. The choice was oddly easy to make. It was the only way to undo what had been done. It was the only way to once again be with Mark. “Then let’s do it,” I said with firm resolve. Marshall shook his head. “I can’t, Taylor!” “You’ve got to! Besides, if this works it won’t matter anyway. If it doesn’t, well, I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here alive in any case. I’m not afraid to die, Marshall. Besides, we have no choice.” I spied a dagger lying conveniently on a nearby bookshelf. Perhaps it was letter opener and not a dagger at all, but as I grabbed it and checked the blade, I found it was razor sharp. “What do we have to do?” I asked, my heart racing. I was shaking with fear, but we had to end this and end it soon.

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“A dagger must be plunged into your heart. I have to recite the spell, then kill you, that should set everything right.” I held out the dagger to Marshall. “Let’s get this over with then. There isn’t much time.” “I can’t do this, Taylor!” “You’ve got to, Marshall! The book says you have to do it, right? It might not work if I do it, and I doubt I’d have the nerve to stab myself in the heart. You can’t back out now, Marshall; we’re out of time!” Nathan had released me and backed into the corner, as if fearful that he’d be asked to perform the deed. He had no need to worry. I’d never ask that of him. “Wait, wait!” said Marshall, looking at the book again. “I’ve made a mistake. The word isn’t affected; it translates as affecter, meaning the one who cast the spell. You’re not the one who has to die, Taylor…” He paused, looked up, swallowed hard, and stared into my eyes. “It’s me.” My face paled. How could I do it? How could I kill Marshall? The images of Jon’s death replayed themselves in my mind. It was too horrible to bear. Tears welled up in my eyes. How could I kill…again? It went against everything I believed. “I can’t do this,” I croaked. “You have to, Taylor! Moments ago you were telling me I had to do it when we thought it was you who had to die. We’re out of time, Taylor, so suck it up and do it. I’ll read the spell and just as I’m finished, you plunge the dagger into my heart.” Marshall took my hand and held it against his chest. “Right there, Taylor, angle the blade so it will go between my ribs. I’m counting on you to make this quick. We’re doing this, now!” “Wait! I…Are you sure you’ve got it right?” Marshall quickly read through the text again. “I’m sure.” I swallowed. Marshall actually grinned at me. He reached out and took my hand in his own. “I’m glad I had the chance to know you, Taylor.” I grabbed him and hugged him. “Ready?” he said, stepping back. I nodded although I was not ready, not at all. Marshall began to read the alien language out loud. His voice shook as he read the strange words. I trembled with fear. I knew I had to do it. There was no time to consider options, no time to think. In one hand I held the dagger. Nathan grasped my other hand. I gripped the dagger tightly. I focused on Marshall’s

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chest, on the spot I had to hit for him to die quickly. I didn’t want him to suffer. He was counting on me to make it quick. I’ve got to do this, I told myself. I’ve got to do it. Just then Marshall uttered the last words of the spell. I plunged the dagger into his chest, into his heart. Nathan cried out, and Marshall’s eyes widened as he gasped in pain.

MARSHALL—LIBRARY, GRAYMOOR MANSION— FEBRUARY 1998 I gasped, my hands flying to my chest. I looked down. There was no dagger protruding from my chest. I jerked my head back up. There was no sign of Taylor or Nathan. I shook off a momentary sense of disorientation as a gust of wind shot through the room. The heavy tome on the table in front of me blew open to the page I remembered all too well. “Marshall? I don’t like this,” said Sean. I jerked my head to the side so abruptly I nearly wrenched my neck. “Sean!” There was a face I hadn’t seen in months. I looked back at the book and the strange words written on the page. “Not this time, Devon,” I said and smiled. “Huh?” said Sean. “This book is evil,” I said. “It must be destroyed. We have to burn it, and we have to do it now.” “Destroyed? I don’t understand. What’s in it?” “Spells—spells that wreak havoc—spells that actually work.” Sean looked down at the book and swallowed hard. I slammed the book shut and handed it to him. “Here, you take it. I don’t trust myself with it. Its call is too strong.” “You say it’s evil. Are you sure?” “I’m sure. I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.” “I’ve never been a fan of book burnings,” said Sean. “This book needs to be destroyed. It has to be destroyed. You have no concept of the evil within it.” I looked at the book in Sean’s hands. Even though I knew

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the evil it could unleash, my hands itched to hold it once more. What might I do with such a book? What magic might lie within its pages? No, I had to be strong. Sean was staring at me. “What?” “You’re going to think this is weird,” said Sean, “but your hair…It’s…it’s longer than it was just a few moments ago—a lot longer.” “We have to destroy the book,” I said, ignoring Sean’s comment, hoping he’d forget about it. “We have to do it now!” “Okay, okay, if you say so. There’s a fire going downstairs in the parlor.” “For God’s sake don’t throw it in the fireplace!” “You said we have to burn it.” “Yes, but not there. Come on.” “Where are we going?” “To the Selby Farm.” Sean called Nick, and he was only too happy to come and get us. As we drove through the darkness and cold sleet I explained what we were about. Nick looked at me as if he thought I might be nuts. “Just humor him,” said Sean. That brought a smile to Nick’s lips. I wondered if Sean believed me or if he was just humoring me, too. I guess it didn’t matter in the end, as long as what needed to be done was done. “Dad has a brush pile we’re going to burn, way out away from everything. That should do it,” said Nick, after I’d explained the need to destroy the book well away from anything that might be harmed. “The brush pile is all wet, though, we’re going to need something to get it started.” “Gasoline,” I said. “That’s exceptionally dangerous,” said Sean. “Not a thousandth as dangerous as this book,” I said. Nick was looking at me oddly, but who wouldn’t have? I didn’t let it bother me. A lot of people thought I was crazy. Once we arrived at the Selby Farm, we followed Nick to the barn where he picked up a small can of gas. We then walked through the darkness to a distant field, the chill February wind biting at our hands and faces, the sleet stinging us. Sean held a flashlight while Nick poured the gas on the brush pile. All of us stood well back and then Nick lit a stick he’d dipped into the gasoline and tossed it on the pile. The brush exploded into flames, and despite the wind and sleet the pile was soon blazing on its own. “Give me the book,” I said.

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“But you said you didn’t trust yourself with it,” said Sean, gripping it tightly. “I can manage for a bit, and I don’t want the two of you to get hurt.” “Why? What’s going to happen?” asked Sean, his face lit by the flickering flames. “I don’t know: maybe nothing, maybe something dreadful. Now, the two of you stand back, way back.” I waited until they’d walked far, far away, then turned to the fire. I held the book tightly in my hands. It called to me again. Within it were secrets likely found nowhere else, knowledge lost for centuries, perhaps. I wondered if I’d overestimated my own force of will. I wanted more than anything else to start running and take the book with me to some quiet place. There, I could delve into its secrets. It whispered to me, promising me power, perhaps even eternal life. I was sorely tempted, but then the tragedies of the past months raced through my mind: all the pain and suffering I’d caused, and all brought about by the ancient tome that now called to me to save it. No, I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. I took a deep breath and steeled myself to fling it into the fire. “Marshall, you must stop!” I turned at the sound of the commanding voice. It was Taylor. “I don’t understand. It has to be destroyed before another as ignorant as I am comes along and wreaks havoc with what’s within!” “There is good as well as evil in that book, Marshall. You must not destroy it.” I stood utterly still for a moment. I felt the heavy weight of the ancient tome in my hands. I felt the weight, also, of all the pain and suffering I’d caused by foolishly using a power I couldn’t begin to understand. I peered deeply into Taylor’s eyes, then turned, and flung the book into the fire. “Noooooo!” screamed Taylor. “You don’t know what you’ve done!” “I know exactly what I’ve done, Devon.” He looked at me with burning hatred then. It was Taylor’s visage I saw, but it was most clearly Devon. He disappeared in a fierce gust of wind. The book began to smoke and burn. What’s more, it began to tremble and issue forth red sparks. I turned on my heel and tore out across the field as fast as I could run. When I was nearly half way to Sean and Nick there was a blinding flash of red light and a sound somewhere between a clap of thunder and a bomb going off. A wave of energy slammed me in the back, lifted me into the air, and shoved me forward several feet before I landed painfully, flat on my face. Sean and Nick raced toward me and pulled me to my feet. We looked back as red

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flames shot dozens of feet into the sky. In less than a minute the fire calmed back to normal size. “I saw Taylor appear and speak to you,” said Sean. “What did he want?” “He told me not to destroy the book.” “And you did it anyway! Are you crazy?” “It wasn’t Taylor.” “Not Taylor?” “No. I’ll give you one guess who, and if you get it wrong I’ll smack you for being stupid.” “Devon,” said Sean. “Who else? It’s always Devon. He really does keep coming back with the same old bag of tricks.” “How did you know it wasn’t Taylor?” “At first I wasn’t sure, although he didn’t seem right, if you get my meaning. What tipped me off was when he told me there was good as well as evil in the book. I could feel the evil in the book as I held it, but no good. I knew he was lying. At that moment I knew Devon was making a last desperate attempt to keep me from destroying the book.” “What if you’d been wrong?” asked Nick. “Taylor’s an angel. Do you really think he couldn’t have pulled it from the flames before it burned?” Sometimes my friends could be so ignorant when it came to the supernatural. “Oh.” “Well, I guess our work is finished here,” said Sean. “And I guess you were right about that book. If Devon tried to stop you, then it was meant to be destroyed. I still don’t understand how you could be so certain.” “I have my ways,” I said and smiled. If you only knew. “Let’s go up to the farmhouse,” said Nick. “If I stay out here any longer my nose is going to freeze off.” “You guys go,” I said. “I think I’ll walk home.” “I’ll drive you,” said Nick. “It’s a nasty night.” “No, it’s a wonderful night,” I said, grinning. “I need some time to think. I have a lot on my mind.” “Okay, then,” said Nick, a bit perplexed. He and Sean grinned at each other and rubbed their noses together before walking away hand in hand. I smiled as I watched them go. Sean obviously had no memory of whatever had happened to him. For all I knew, my actions had unmade him as they had Jordan, or perhaps he found him-

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self in a changed world. Or, since I’d returned moments before I’d uttered the spell, maybe nothing had happened to him at all. I’d never know, for whatever had happened was lost: He had no memory of it. It seemed that I alone could remember. But was it a blessing or a curse? I walked slowly, ignoring the chill wind. I thought about all that had happened in the past several months. How could I have been so stupid, so reckless? I’d meant to make things better for all concerned, but I’d come very close to destroying us all. I was lost in thought for some minutes as the wind and sleet assailed me. From the point of view of Sean and everyone else, no time had passed at all since I’d traveled into the past, but I had months of memories: some good, others bad. I was right back where I’d started, yet I felt a bit disorientated and confused. I felt…changed. Later, I found myself in the cemetery, walking among the monuments, with no memory of how I’d gotten there. I had no idea how long I’d been walking around with my head in the clouds, but just before me were the graves of Mark and Taylor. The presence of the old familiar grave markers was comforting, a sign that all was as it was meant to be. I just gazed at the stones for several moments, remembering the real live, flesh-and-blood boys I’d spent so many months with. Beyond all hope I’d saved them, but instead of everyone living happily ever after, I’d wreaked havoc with the lives of all. I stared off into the distance, once more lost in thought. My head was spinning with all that had happened. I turned my attention back to the stones and… “Yikes!” I gasped and scrambled backwards, my hand clutching my chest. My heart pounded furiously. A handsome, sixteen-year-old boy was perched upon the top of the marker that read, “Mark Bailey.” What’s more, the wind and sleet were gone, as was the darkness. It was suddenly a bright spring day instead of a cold, February night. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” said Mark as he hopped off his own tombstone. My momentary shock dissipated as quickly as it had come. “I very nearly destroyed everything, didn’t I?” “I wouldn’t go quite that far, but let’s just say the damage was considerable.” “But everything is okay now, right?” “Everything is as it was before you meddled with what should not be touched—everything except for you, of course.”

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“Me? Yes, I guess that is true. I remember it all.” “As well you should. Consider it your punishment, if you will, or merely as your education. Perhaps it will help you to think before you act next time. All is as it was, except for you: You are changed.” I looked down at my feet, quite ashamed of what I’d done. I’d never felt quite so foolish or humbled before. My curiosity soon got the better of me, however, and I faced Mark once again. “I’ve been wondering about something: Ethan. Did he really do what Brandon said he did? Did he really try to rape that kid? It just doesn’t seem possible.” “No,” said Mark. “He did nothing of the kind. Ethan was set up. What Brandon saw was careful orchestrated to destroy Ethan.” “Orchestrated by whom?” “Zac, the very boy who appeared to be the victim.” “But, why?” As Mark told me Ethan’s tale, my face paled. It wasn’t long before tears streamed from my eyes. He’d borne unbearable torment, and all because of me. I’d sought to remove the pain of Mark and Taylor’s deaths from his life, and I’d done so only to replace it with a nightmare. “Oh my God,” I said, blinking away the tears. “What…what happened to him after he left Verona?” “Are you sure you want to hear more?” “I…I don’t know. Just tell me—how did his journey end?” “With a sad and lonely death,” said Mark, “years after he fled from Verona.” I closed my eyes and shuddered, thankful that Mark had not told me how it happened. “What of the others?” I asked. “What about Sean? What about Brendan and Casper and Skye and Oliver and all the rest?” Tears soon filled my eyes again as Mark told me of the fate of my friends. Oliver was beaten and lynched? Brendan had become a whore? When Mark told me all that had happened to Sean, I sank down onto the grass and bawled my eyes out. I’d sought to take away the pain of Marty’s death, but instead I’d poured salt into Sean’s wounds. What was it like for him to lose the one he loved a second time? I could not have harmed my friends more had I tried. Each story was more horrifying than the last. I was truly disturbed by what Mark told me about Skye. He’d become sadistic and preyed upon others instead of helping them. As a result he’d died a painful death. I was still bawling when Mark finished his tales an eternity later. What a fool I’d been. “Was anyone better off?” I asked in desperation.

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Mark slowly shook his head. “Taylor’s death was a horrible tragedy,” said Mark, “but sometimes bad things must happen to change things for the better. Taylor’s death and mine gave Ethan a strength and resolve he would not have had otherwise. As a result, he was able to be there for Nathan, and for Dave. Ethan and Nathan were waiting for Brendan and Casper when they arrived, which, in turn, kept them from an unhappy fate. All of them, and especially Ethan and Brendan provided role models for a lot of gay kids. As a result, understanding spread. This world is far from perfect, but out of tragedy came something good.” “I almost can’t believe what happened to Skye. He became a…monster.” “Fear is a powerful negative force, and the instinct for self-preservation is strong. It can lead one to do unsuspected things.” “Yes, but, Skye…Some of what he did…” “Do not judge others, Marshall. You cannot understand why Skye acted as he did unless you are Skye. Someone looking at your actions from the outside would view what you have done in a very different light.” I nodded. I could see what Mark meant. I’d meddled with the past because I wanted to help others, because I wanted to make things better for everyone. Instead, I’d nearly destroyed us all. Someone looking at my life from the outside could well see me as a force of evil. I wouldn’t judge Skye harshly for what he’d been in that other reality, the reality that should never have existed at all. Instead, I’d remember the real Skye who went out of his way to protect others. “Devon was behind it, wasn’t he?” I asked. “Yes. Devon is thwarted by the presence of Taylor and myself and by the efforts of you and your friends. He sought to tip the scales in his favor by eliminating Taylor and me from the picture.” “But surely he knew that he would change as well?” “It was a gamble for him. In the end he gained little, but if things had not been set right, the outcome may have been very different indeed.” “And so the battle goes on,” I said. “As I told Oliver not so very long ago, this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.”

MARSHALL—SELBY FARM—FEBRUARY 1998 I sat at the crowded table in the Selby kitchen for a special Sunday dinner. Practically everyone I loved was there. Ethan and Nathan sat at either end. Brendan and Casper were sitting beside each other, as were Sean and Nick. Seated beside me was Skye and on my other side, Oliver and Clay. Dave was also there with his wife and their kids. Zoë and Avery were there, too, smiling at each other. We’d just filled our plates, and everyone was busy stuffing themselves with turkey, dressing, and mounds of other goodies, but I took a moment to look around the table. This was how it was supposed to be. We all had our problems and had all suffered losses, but I knew that everything was exactly as it was meant to be. I smiled and took a bite of roast turkey. I didn’t know what was to come. The future was an unknown and therefore was frightening. One thing I did understand at last, however, was that things were as they were meant to be. There was a purpose even for tragedy, and maybe that explained why so many bad things happened to good people. I couldn’t bring myself to think of tragedies such as Mark’s and Taylor’s deaths as a good thing, but I knew for a fact that all of us, Mark and Taylor included, would’ve been a lot worse off had they lived. Nick stepped away from the table for a moment to turn on the radio. Phantom’s “Do You Know That I Love You” began to play. Nick pulled Sean away from the table and made him dance. I laughed. Yeah, everything was as it was meant to be.

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A note on suicide from the author

Suicide is never the right answer. There are always alternatives. It’s easy to think that there is no other way out of a situation, but it simply isn’t true. Suicide is often the result of emotional pain exceeding an individual’s ability to cope with that pain. If you’re considering suicide, do yourself and those around you a favor, seek help before you reach the point where your coping skills can handle what’s going on in your life. There are people just waiting to help you. The following is a list of toll free numbers where you can get the help you need. If you’re thinking about suicide, call now. Some numbers are answered 24 hours a day, others are not, but there is always a number to call. Many of the numbers below are especially for gay teens, but older individuals shouldn’t hesitate to call. If for some reason one number doesn’t work, try the next!

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Adolescent Suicide: 1-800-621-4000 Covenant House (also suicide): 1-800-999-9999 Girls and Boys Town National Hotline: 1-800-448-3000 National Crisis Line: 1-866-334-4357 National Hope Line Network: 1-800-784-2433 National Hotline for Gay Teens: 1-800-969-6884 Teen Line Hotline Help Center: 1-888-747-8336 Trevor Project (suicide and counseling hotline): 1-800-850-8078 Remember, you can also call 911 and ask for a suicide hotline. Additional numbers can be found by searching the Internet and the yellow pages. A search for “gay youth suicide hotline” or simply “youth suicide hotline”, will bring up links to other places you can get help. The key is to get help, because life is worth living.

Other Books by Mark A. Roeder Listed in Suggested Reading Order

Gay Youth Chronicles:

ANCIENT PREJUDICE BREAK TO NEW MUTINY Mark is a boy who wants what we all want: to love and be loved. His dreams are realized when he meets Taylor, the boy of his dreams. The boys struggle to keep their love hidden from a world that cannot understand, but ultimately, no secret is safe in a small Mid-western town. Ancient Prejudice is a story of love, friendship, understanding, and an age-old prejudice that still has the power to kill. It is a story for young and old, gay and straight. It reminds us all that everyone should be treated with dignity and respect and that there is nothing greater than the power of love.

THE SOCCER FIELD IS EMPTY The Soccer Field Is Empty is a revised and much expanded edition of Ancient Prejudice. It is more than 50% longer and views events from the point of view of Taylor, as well as Mark. There is so much new in the revised edition that it is being published as a separate novel. Soccer Field delves more deeply into the events of Mark and Taylor’s lives and reveals previously hidden aspects of Taylor’s personality.

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Authors note: I suggest readers new to my books start with Soccer Field instead of Ancient Prejudice as it gives a more complete picture of the lives of Mark and Taylor. For those who wish to read the original version, Ancient Prejudice will remain available for at least the time being.

SOMEONE IS WATCHING It’s hard hiding a secret. It’s even harder keeping that secret when someone else knows. Someone Is Watching is the story of Ethan, a young high school wrestler who must come to terms with being gay. He struggles first with himself, then with an unknown classmate that hounds his every step. While struggling to discover the identity of his tormentor, Ethan must discover his own identity and learn to live his life as his true self. He must choose whether to give up what he wants the most, or face his greatest fear of all.

A BETTER PLACE High school football, a hospital of horrors, a long journey, and an unlikely love await Brendan and Casper as they search for a better place… Casper is the poorest boy in school. Brendan is the captain of the football team. Casper has nothing. Brendan has it all: looks, money, popularity, but he lacks the deepest desire of his heart. The boys come from different worlds, but have one thing in common that no one would guess. Casper goes through life as the “invisible boy”; invisible to the boys that pick on him in school, invisible to his abusive father, and invisible most of all to his older brother, who makes his life a living hell. He can’t believe his good luck when Brendan, the most popular boy in school, takes an interest in him and becomes his friend. That friendship soon travels in a direction that Casper would never have guessed. A Better Place is the story of an unlikely pair, who struggle through friendship and betrayal, hardships and heartbreaks, to find the desire of their hearts, to find a better place.

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SOMEONE IS KILLING THE GAY BOYS OF VERONA Someone is killing the gay boys of Verona, Indiana, and only one gay youth stands in the way. He finds himself pitted against powerful foes, but finds allies in places he did not expect. A brutal murder. Gay ghosts. A Haunted Victorian-Mansion. A cult of hate. A hundred year old ax murder. All this, and more, await sixteen-year-old Sean as he delves into the supernatural and races to discover the murderer before he strikes again. Someone is Killing the Gay Boys of Verona is a supernatural murder mystery that goes where no gay novel has set foot before. It is a tale of love, hate, friendship, and revenge.

KEEPER OF SECRETS Sixteen-year-old Avery is in trouble, yet again, but this time he’s in over his head. On the run, Avery is faced with hardships and fear. He must become what he’s always hated, just to survive. He discovers new reasons to hate, until fate brings him to Graymoor Mansion and he discovers a disturbing connection to the past. Through the eyes of a boy, murdered more than a century before, Avery discovers that all is not as he thought. Avery is soon forced to face the greatest challenge of all; looking into his own heart. Sean is head over heels in love with his new boyfriend, Nick. There is trouble in paradise, however. Could a boy so beautiful really love plain, ordinary Sean? Sean cannot believe it and desperately tries to transform himself into the ideal young hunk, only to learn that it’s what’s inside that matters. Keeper of Secrets is the story of two boys, one a gay youth, the other an adolescent gay basher. Fate and the pages of a hundred year old journal bring them together and their lives are forever changed.

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Altered Realities

DO YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU The lead singer of the most popular boy band in the world has a secret. A tabloid willing to tell all turns his world upside down. In Do You Know That I Love You, Ralph, a young gay teen living on a farm in Indiana, has an aching crush on a rock star and wants nothing more than to see his idol in concert. Meanwhile, Jordan, the rock star, is lonely and sometimes confused with his success, because all he wants is someone to love him and feels he will never find the love he craves. Do You Know is the story of two teenage boys, their lives, desires, loves, and a shared destiny that allows them both to find peace.

MASKED DESTINY Masked Destiny is the story of Skye, a high school athlete determined to be the Alpha male. Skye’s obsessed with his own body, his Abercrombie & Fitch wardrobe, and keeping those around him in their place. Try as he might, he’s not quite able to ignore the world around him, or the plight of gay boys that cross his path. Too frightened of what others might think, Skye fails to intervene when he could have saved a boy with a single word. The resulting tragedy, wise words for a mysterious blond boy, and a unique opportunity combine to push Skye toward his destiny. Oliver is young, a bit pudgy, and interested in little more than his books and possibly his first kiss. As he slowly gains courage, he seeks out the friendship of Clay, his dream boy, in hopes they will become more than friends. Oliver is sought out in turn by Ken, who warns him Clay is not at all what he seems, but Ken, too, has his secrets. Oliver must choose between them and discovers danger, a link to boys murdered in the recent past, and the answers to secrets he’d never dreamed.

ALTERED REALITIES Marshall only wanted to help his friends, to undo the pain of the past, but a few moments of thoughtless action changed everything. Altered Realities is the tale of a changed world. All bets are off. Nothing is as it was and what is to be is transformed too. Mark, Taylor, Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, Casper and nearly the entire

Mark A. Roeder

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cast of the Gay Youth Chronicles come together in a tapestry of tales as they all try to deal with the consequences of Marshall’s actions. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

THIS TIME AROUND What happens when a TV evangelist struggles to crush gay rights? Who better to halt his evil plans than the most famous rock star in the world? This Time Around follows Jordan and Ralph as they become involved in a struggle with Reverend Wellerson, a TV evangelist, over the fate of gay youth centers. Wellerson is willing to stop at nothing to crush gay rights and who better to halt his evil plans than the most famous rock star in the entire world? While battling Wellerson, Jordan seeks to come to terms with his own past and learn more about the father he never knew. The excitement builds when an assassin is hired and death becomes a real possibility for Jordan and those around him. Jordan is forced to face his own fears and doubts and the battle within becomes more dangerous than the battle without. Will Jordan be able to turn from the path of destruction, or is he doomed to follow in the footsteps of his father? This time around, things will be different.

THE SUMMER OF MY DISCONTENT The Summer of My Discontent is a tapestry of tales delving into life as a gay teen in a small Midwestern town. Dane is a sixteen-year-old runaway determined to start a new life of daring, love, and sex—no matter the cost to himself, or others. His actions bring him to the brink of disaster and only those he sought to prey upon can save him. Among Dane’s new found “friends” are a young male prostitute and the local grave robber who becomes his despised employer. The boys of A Better Place are back—Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, and Casper are once again dealing with trouble in Verona, Indiana. Drought and circumstance threaten their existence and they struggle together to save themselves from blackmail, financial collapse, and temptation. Brendan must cope with anonymity after being one of the most popular boys in school. Casper must face his own past—the loss of his father and the fate of his

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abusive brother, who is locked away in the very hospital of horrors from which Brendan escaped. Letters from his brother force Casper to question his feelings— is Jason truly a monster or can he change? Dark, foreboding, and sexy—The Summer of My Discontent is the tale of gay teens seeking to find themselves, each other, and a better place.

OUTFIELD MENACE Outfield Menace is the tale of Kurt, a fifteen-year-old baseball player, living in a small, 1950s, Indiana town. During a confrontation with Angel, the resident bad boy of Blackford High School, Kurt attacks Angel, earning the wrath of the most dangerous gang in town. When Angel finally corners Kurt, however, something happens that Kurt wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. As the murder of a local boy is uncovered, suspicion is cast upon Angel, but Kurt has learned there’s more to Angel than his bad boy image. Angel has a secret, however, that could get both Kurt and himself killed. Outfield Menace is a story of friendship, love, adventure, and perilous danger.

PHANTOM WORLD Toby Riester is sixteen, gay, and searching for his first boyfriend. He discovers many potential candidates—Orlando, a cute sixteen year old boy of Latin ancestry who works with Toby at the Phantom World amusement park—C.T., a blond, seventeen year old who is obviously gay—and Spike, a well-built sixteen year old from the internet. Each boy has his own seductive qualities and each is more than his seems. One of them, however, is far more dangerous than Toby ever guessed. Orlando finds himself a girlfriend at Phantom World, but that’s only the beginning of his story. When he meets his girlfriend’s twin brother, Kerry, his world is turned upside down. Mackenzie Riester is the athletic younger brother of Toby. He has little respect for his queer big brother and joins with his new found friend, Billy, in playing an elaborate practical joke on Toby that becomes more perilous than he ever dreamed. Phantom World is the story of three very different boys—their triumphs, heartaches, and their search for love and acceptance.

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Other Books

THE VAMPIRES HEART Ever wonder what it would be like to be fifteen-years-old forever? Ever wonder how it would feel to find out your best friend is not what he seems? Graham Granger is intrigued by the new boy in school. Graham’s heart aches for a friend, and maybe a boyfriend, but is Josiah the answer to his dreams? Why is Bry Hartnett, the school hunk, taking an interest in Graham as well? When strange happenings begin to occur at Griswold Jr./Sr. High, Graham’s once boring life becomes more exciting than he can handle. Mystery, intrigue, and danger await Graham as he sets out on an adventure he never dreamed possible.