I said it might be a while until the next one, and boy has it been. Sorry to leave you guys with this cliff-hanger of a chapter, but it will all be explained by next week, I prmise. And, in response to cumulative feedback, I want to make it clear that this story is not intended to make you hot and horny. If you would rather be, press the back button.
Disclaimer: This is a homoerotic story I have written, so if you aren't allowed legally, morally or ethically to read it, then don't. And don't post this anywhere else without my expressed permission. Feedback is very much encouraged, so hit me up at bluedragon314@gmail.com
Ch. 9
Everything started going to hell in poli sci the next day. For starters, Moony wasn't there. He had chosen that time to eat some bad sushi and was in the hospital with food poisoning. So, we had a substitute teacher: Mr. Greenwell, a history teacher who prided himself on his knowledge of American Government. His tweed jacket and gaunt frame made him look like he should have been hosting Masterpiece Theatre instead of teaching high school political science.
William was still his old self, sadly. But his hoodie seemed to droop less and he stared at more than the table in front of him. Sitting next to him, I wanted to reach out and hold him, or just touch him gently. But he had the demeanor of an ice statue and I was afraid of trying to get close to him.
My only ground to reality that day was Peter. He was enjoying a quiet, calm, unadulterated life now that the Jenny debacle was over. William's idea about pairing her with Derrick worked very well; both had been too preoccupied with the other to bother anyone. That meant hygene and no more sweats, but also no more clean butt shots.
But the biggest change was Chris--he wasn't there. Chris had not missed a day of school since 5th grade, and prided himself on it. If he wasn't there, it meant one of two things: a) he was bleeding profusely on the side of the road somewhere or b) he had been raptured and we were all "left behind" and subsequently screwed by The Almighty. It was one of the few times I had earnestly wished bodily harm upon him.
"Good afternoon, students," said Greenwell. "My name is Mr. Greenwell. Some of you may already recognize me if you attended the Flag Day ceremony last year. I was a guest speaker on behalf of the superintendent.
"Now, I know this is a political science class and that there are many types of governments we could choose to talk about, but I think we can cover them all if we focus on the type that has had the most substantial influence on the rest: democracy. Now, who can tell me how a democracy works?"
It was usually that point in time that Chris' hand would shoot up and he would give an explanation that would make Noah Webster proud. But he was MIA, and I felt compelled to take his place and raised my hand.
"Yes, you in the back," said Greenwell. "Mr. ..."
"Wilson," I said. "Kyle Wilson."
"And, Mr. Wilson, can you tell the class how democracy works?" he asked.
"Ideally, democracy is the system by which decisions are made through a majority vote of the population. But in reality, not all of the population is allowed to vote, neither does all of the voting population choose to vote. So, essentially--"
"Exactly," he interrupted. "Democracy is where the people get to make the decisions, which is why it is held as an ideal, as Mr. Wilson put it, by many foreign countries, as is capitalism and the free-market system. So, what was it about democracy that led the founding fathers to choose it over the other systems of government?"
"It was an opportunity cost," said Chris as he stood in the doorway. Or at least it looked and sounded like Chris. His squinting eyes were bloodshot and he was wearing jeans and an old t-shirt--further signs of the end times.
"Young man, why are you late?" asked Greenwell.
"I overslept," said Chris, acting very flippant.
"Well, sit down and join your classmates," said Greenwell.
"As I was saying," said Chris as he walked over, flopped his bag on the table and sat down, "it was an opportunity cost."
"Young man, we are talking about democracy right now," said Greenwell. "We will get to capitalism later."
"But it isn't just for economics, sir," insisted Chris. "An opportunity costs is the price of whatever you give up to get what you get. The founding fathers wanted a government that would prevent tyranny, so they established one that could not be wielded by a few, but rather by many. Democracy is slow and cumbersome so we can find corruption in the process rather than after the fact."
"Young man, I think you are abusing the meaning of the term," said Greenwell. "May we stop with the semantics and continue with class?"
"Whatever," said Chris.
As he was unpacking his bag, Peter leaned over to him and said, "You've snapped."
"I have not," he said. "Just leave me alone."
"But we want to know what did the snapping," insisted Peter.
"It's no big deal," said Chris. "I had a rough night."
"You think you--" said William, trying to put things in perspective for him, but Peter held his hand up and William withdrew his comment.
"Your father is a very successful district attorney," said Peter. "Your mom is president of the Rotary Club. I've been to your house and seen the huge meat freezer in your garage. For your birthday, we played Monopoly and drank Thomas Kemper root beer. Now, if you had a rough night, either your parents are getting a divorce, or you have started taking meth."
"Meth," coughed William.
"It's nothing like that," said Peter. "I've just...found a way to occupy a lot of my time at night."
"What's her name?" I asked.
It was supposed to be a joke. Me and Peter always grilled Chris for never having a girlfriend and said he was doomed to remain celibate. So, we were shocked when he said, "Uh, Aeris."
"Wait...isn't that the chick from Final Fantasy VII?" asked William.
"What does it matter?" asked Chris.
I tried not to laugh out loud and had to clasp my hand over my mouth to stifle what could have been a burst of laughter. I'm not sure if the the fact that he actually had a crush was more amusing than that his affections were directed at a Final Fantasy heroine. The burst, however, found it's way out my nose and, by the time Greenwell scolded us for not paying attention to his explanation of the executive branch, I had snot dripping down my fingers.
"Let me get this straight," said Peter. "You're in love with a computer-generated elf chick."
"She's not an elf!" retorted Chris. "And you wouldn't understand if you hadn't played the game!"
"It's true," said William. "FF VII is pretty emotionally intense. Did you get to the part where Sephiroth kills her?"
"What!?" cried Chris under his breath. His face had gone ashen and my fingers received another wave of snot from a would-be guffaw.
"Gentlemen!" said Greenwell. "The 'opportunity cost' for talking in the classroom is a detention. Now, please quiet down."
We composed ourselves and tried to ignore Chris' computer-generated love life.
"Jerk-off didn't even use it right," said Chris in response to Greenwell.
When class was over, William was off like a flash. I got my stuff together and tried to run after him, but Peter grabbed me by the shoulder as I was about to leave.
"We need to go get a drink," he said.
"But I need to go talk to William," I protested.
"You've got boy problems, Chris has girl problems, and I just got over my problems," he said. "Why can't we commiserate down at Big Jim's?"
Big Jim's was an arcade/pizza parlour that had been opened at the beginning of the summer right across from The Movie Dome. Peter had a tentative job there. He would just show up, clean the tables for an hour or so and Big Jim would give him some pizza and a soda. He must have had some table time he hadn't cashed in if he was inviting us along.
"I can't believe him," said Chris as he downed a sprite at our table.
"Yeah, Greenwell was pretty lame," I said.
"No, William," he said. "That punk was an ass before, and now he has to go and ruin the greatest game ever."
"Careful how you talk about William," said Peter, taking a bite of peperoni. "Kyle might try to defend fair boy's honor?"
I was about to feel real embarrassed, but Chris wasn't even paying attention.
"You know, I bet he made it up," he said. "Why would Sephiroth kill Aeris? It doesn't make any sense."
"How are you and Willy doing these days?" asked Peter, ignoring Chris. "Fight any battles for him?"
"Yeah," I said. "It was horrible. This guy, Stone, is a complete creep. He treats the boys like they are playthings and tells them he is protecting them and stuff like that. It made me sick to hear him talk."
"Sure sounds like a creep," said Peter.
"I know," I said. "And get this: he said I was being selfish by trying to take William out of a place like that, that I only had my interests in mind and not William's."
"God, what an ass," he said. "Does William believe that?"
"I hope not," I said. "I can't figure him out. I know he's afraid of getting hurt, but he doesn't get that I won't hurt him."
"Just tell him," said Peter. "Tell him flat out that his Stone guy is a creep and that you have no intention of hurting him."
"It's not so easy," I said. "Stone is good at what he does. He has a lot of power in this city and has very...persuasive methods of keeping the boys in line. I wish I could just say, 'Hey, leave that horrible place and come live with me where you can be happy.'"
"Why don't you?" He asked. "There is a time to beat around the bush and there is a time to be direct in how you feel. Watch:" He turned to Chris, who was staring at the table and going on about black materia, and he said, "Hey, Chris. The girl you are in love with does not exist. She is a bunch of pixels and jagged polygons. She does not and can not love you back."
Chris glared at him, slammed his glass down on the table and walked away into the arcade section of the parlour.
"See?" said Peter.
"I hope you didn't make him cry," I said.
"He'll be fine," Peter said. "He'll thank me later. So, what are you going to do about William?"
"I really don't know," I said. "I need to think this over, and give him some time to cool down. I hope Stone doesn't do anything to him because of me."
"I wouldn't be worried," said Peter. "But start carrying a buck knife around, just in case."
When I got home, James was there, but he was upstairs. I walked into the living room and stared down at the phone. I wanted to talk to William again. We could talk about the mating habits of giant squid and I wouldn't care. I just wanted to talk to him.
I picked up the reciever and laid down on the couch, thinking about what Peter had said. It would be wasy to tell William to leave his job and his family, but how to say it was tough. If he did, Stone wouldn't know where to look for him, and he would hardly recognize him if he wasn't wearing any club-wear or that hoodie. And, if he ever caught up with us, James could take care of any flunkies Stone sent our way. As soon as he got away from that awful place, he would feel so much better and be able to think straight. He had to get out. Even if I had to kidnap him, I would get him out of there.
Suddenly, a pair of strong arms reached under me and picked me up, squeezing my knees to my chest. I was then forcibly dropped onto the recliner and James lounged out on his couch.
"What was that for?" I protested.
"You were on my couch," he replied. "What do you think?"
I sat up and said, "I've been using it for the past two months and you haven't complained."
"I was a little...preoccupied," he said, picking up the remote and turning on the TV.
"Is that what you call sulking around the house all day and being a selfish jerk?"
"I was just having some existential anxiety. No big deal."
"No big deal? You were a zombie!"
"Contemplate the meaning of your existence and see how you feel."
"And why the sudden interest in your existence? You didn't seem to care before."
"I wasn't so lonely before."
"Lonely?" The thought had never occured to me. James was a pillar of reason and sensibilities, so feelings weren't usually the first way I would describe him.
"My best friend moved off to college with his boyfriend and my little brother spends all his time at school and with his friends. I was starting to feel left out, really left out."
His voice was cracking ever so slightly as he talked.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know," I said.
"I didn't tell you," he said, looking down at his feet. "I didn't tell anybody."
"Are you ok now? I mean, are you still all depressed and stuff."
"Actually, no. I've put a lot of things in perspective lately and have realized that I am the only one who can keep myself from being lonely like that."
"And how will you do that?"
"I'm going to try dating again."
He sat up and puffed out his chest, trying to gain his best posture.
"Dating? You haven't done that since we moved in here."
"I know. It was really discouraging. And the girls weren't making it any easier."
"They were all lame, anyway. You don't spend too much time at your job. They just weren't patient with you."
"It wasn't the job. They never left because of my job."
"But you always said they thought you were too obsessed with your work."
"I lied. It's really because of you. No, not like a bad thing, but they didn't want to date a guy who lived with his little brother. And I said we were a package deal, that they would get both or none."
He meekly smiled over at me but then looked back at the TV.
"I...guess I should thank you then."
"For what?"
"For being loyal."
"Why wouldn't I be? You're the only family I've got."
"Well, not the only family, but the only part that cares."
I got out of my chair and went over to give him a hug. He got up, put his arms around my shoulders, threw me facedown on the couch and sat on me.
"I've spent two months as an emotional wreck, so sorry if I don't want to get all warm and fuzzy," he said.
"And what does baking and all chat crap have to do with finding your purpose in life?" I asked using the little breath his weight would afford me.
"Nothing at all," he said, stretching out and digging his tailbone into my spine. "I was just trying to distract myself."
There as a sharp knock at the door and James took extra care in bouncing off of me with as much force as he could. When he opened it, there were two men in suits and brown trench coats standing at the door.
"Good afternoon," said one. "Are we at the residence of Kyle Wilson?"
"Yeah," said James, standing up straight. "Who are you?"
"I'm agent Reed and this is agent Jefferson," he replied. "We're with Child Protective Services."
"I'm his legal guardian," said James. "What do you want?"
"There has been a custody dispute filed over the legal guardianship of Kyle," said Reed. "A Mr. And Mrs. McGillis have filed suit on the basis that the parent's will named them as legal guardians."
McGillis was the name of my aunt and uncle in the Midwest. They were first in line to take me and James after our parents died, but they wanted nothing to do with kids, so we were rejected. I sat up in the couch, listening intently to the two men at the door.
"It did, and they said they didn't want us," said a visibly defensive James. "Now, if that is all you have to say, please leave."
He tried to close the door, but Jefferson's foot blocked it and Reed pushed it back open.
"We have orders to confiscate the child and turn him over to the McGillis family until the dispute is settled in court," said Reed.
"Unless you have a warrant, you are going to get the fuck out of here before I break your arm," hissed James.
Jefferson drew his gun, pointed it directly at James' face and said, "It's not smart to threaten a federal officer. Now, step aside."
"Kyle, run!" shouted James as they strode through the door.
Jefferson punched James across the face and James fell to the floor. I jumped over the couch and ran through the dining room towards the back door. As I reached the door, I felt a rough hand grab me by the collar and fling me back to the floor. I got back up, pushed my way by Reed and tried to make a break for the kitchen, but my way was blocked as Jefferson stepped into the doorway. I backed away and felt cold steel slide around my wrists and heard the click of handcuffs.
I tried to head-butt Jefferson in the gut, but Reed kicked my legs and I fell on my back. Jefferson took out a tazer and tazed me in the side. It hurt so bad. I lost control of my entire body and everything ached. My ears rang and I felt like throwing up. Next thing I know, I was heaved over Reed's shoulder and they are walking me out to a black sedan parked in our driveway. I looked back and saw James stumbling to his feet in the hallway by the stairs.
"James!" I shouted.
He started running after me, but Jefferson turned around, took out his gun and shot James in the chest. James stumbled sideways, sank to his knees, then fell back on the grass and stopped moving.
I flailed my body, trying to get out of Reed's grip, but then Jefferson tazed me again. The last thing I saw was the overcast sky behind the long, wind-blown branches of the willow in our neighbor's yard before I passed out.
If you want to read more of the story sooner, I have the rest posted at www.awesomedude.com. There is also a forum at AD for feedback, so e-mail me at bluedragon314@gmail.com or join the forum and tell me what you think.