Dean and Hanson

T H E E X C H A N G E

by Dean Lidster =======================================================================

PART ONE

(Chapters one to seven)

DISCLAIMER ~~~~~~~~~~

This story contains sexual acts between boys. If this is not to your tastes, then why in God's name are you reading this in the first place, huh? If you're curious, then that's fine by me - just remember: an open mind and an open heart is the secret to a good and happy life. If you are UNDER the age of concent for state / geographical location / planet that you're in / on etc, please leave now (unless you want to be educated and have an open mind that is!)

I spose this story is copyrighted. By this, I mean that I wrote it and would not particularly want anyone to subtly alter it and pretend it is their own. However, you MAY post it to any newsgroups, archives etc, print it, give it to friends without my prior permission PROVIDED THAT I STAY ACCREDITED AS THE AUTHOR AND YOU DO NOT CHARGE FOR DOING SO. Easy :-)

The story is fiction, and whilst there are references to real live people in here, none of this took place outside of my hormone-driven mind...

If you like this story, mail me at dean@deans-domain.nu. If you don't like it, mail me anyway and tell me why!

The latest version of this saga may be found at my web site: http://www.deans-domain.nu/ourplace/stories

Cheers, Dean

Dedicated to Lee - I will love you forever.

CHAPTER ONE

I was excited. There was no other way of putting it. It was the Monday in the second week in January and I was getting ready to go back to school. Normally, this is cause for much feet-dragging but this time I didn't mind one bit, This was because I had one very good incentive which happened to be about 5'7", have long blond hair and a smile to die for, not to mention a really cute little brother and a hunky older one. And I'd be with them for the next FOUR WEEKS!

Somehow, my headmaster (who I now thought was an even greater guy than before) had managed to arrange an exchange between my English public school in Derbyshire with Tay's high school over in Tulsa. All this had been agreed in the car park of the NEC in Birmingham some weeks previously when Walker and Diane Hanson had turned up the day after the concert, their flight having been delayed. (Just for those who want to know, the rest of that week went very well indeed - Tay took me to a recording session at a studio in Birmingham where we somehow ended up making out on the mixing desk...)

Anyway, it was Saturday afternoon and I was nervously awaiting the arrival of my boyfriend (we'd now made it official - telephone numbers and e-mail addresses had been swapped along with various bodily fluids) and his two brothers. Communication had been good this time over the last few weeks - thanks to the internet and a conferencing tool that comes bundled with a certain web browser (I'm not naming names here!) long distance phone calls had been avoided, the only drawback being the time difference between the countries.

I heard the dog start to go ballistic outside and my heart skipped a beat. I legged it downstairs and out the front door to see a taxi (driven by someone strongly resembling Apu from the Simpsons) pull into the drive. Tay leapt out of the back and ran into my arms, hugging and kissing me. Ike levered himself out of the passenger seat at the front complaining that his seat wouldn't adjust so he had to sit in a space designed for a pygmy... Zac leapt out of the back, full of energy, and wolf-whistled at me and Tay.

"Shuddup, dip-shit,"

"Make me, lover-boy," taunted Zac.

"YOU ARE SO DEAD!!" Tay broke the hug and sprinted off after Zac round the garden, the dog going wild in his pen. Ike took the opportunity to pay the taxi driver and give me a hug and a peck on the cheek. He seemed so much happier and at ease with life than I remembered, and seeing the laugh-lines round his eyes once more made me smile too.

Zac and Tay, meanwhile, were still racing around on the lawn making a suitable amount of noise. Tay was gaining on Zac and an untied shoelace allowed the capture - Zac tripped and landed flat on his stomach. Tay, unable to avoid his brother, fell directly on top of him, knocking the wind out of both. Tay gave Zac a noogie for good luck and walked back over to me.

We unloaded their bags from the taxi and dragged them inside.

"You tired after your flight?"

"Aw, man, you wouldn't believe it - there were about a hundred kids on our flight, all of them as hyper as Zac. Rest was not an option..."

"Well, there's no rest for the wicked - we've got to go uniform shopping now..."

My parents greeted Ike, Tay and Zac with renewed enthusiasm - they hadn't quite known who they were (shock horror!) last time they met, and were now suitably awe-struck. However, once they realised that they were really just fairly regular kids, they settled down a bit. We all then piled into our Discovery and headed for town and the rip- off merchants that stocked the uniform...

My dad dropped us off right in front of the shop so we didn't have to walk through the shopping area without the comfort of Kevin lumbering around behind us. We walked into the shop and announced our intentions to the shop assistant, who pointed us upstairs. As we walked up the large, supposedly elegant flight of stairs, a conversation between two of the girls behind a counter stopped dead. We did our best to ignore them and I guided them round to the uniform section, and loaded them up with the regulation maroon polo neck jumper, green V-neck, tie, white shirts, trousers and black shoes.

I suggested they all go try their new clothes as the sizes given were, from experience, more guidelines than sizes. Each of the brothers disappeared into a changing booth. A few minutes later, Tay emerged wearing the maroon poloneck. Surprisingly, it all fitted fairly well, the trousers just being slightly too long in the leg.

"It's actually quite comfy. You sure you don't have to wear the tie?"

"Only if you want to wear the V-neck. There is one disadvantage with this uniform," I said, moving closer to him and checking that no one was watching.

"Yeah? What's that?"

I grabbed his crotch and rubbed him gently through the thin material, and immediately felt him start to get hard as he groaned ever so slightly. A few moments later when he had a proper hardon, I turned him round so he could see himself in a full length mirror.

"That," I said, pointing to the most noticeable hard-on bulge in history. It really was not funny how obvious these trousers made it, and to make matters worse the pockets weren't deep enough to adjust yourself...

"Oh great," said Tay. "How am I gonna survive this if I'm gonna be sat next to you all day? All I have to do is look at you and I pop a woodie..."

"I'm the same," I said. "Just be aware of it. The only real way to get round it is to trap it under the waistband of your boxers..."

Zac and Ike then emerged from the other two changing rooms. Again Ike's fitted him fairly well and for once someone looked good in that idiotic green V-neck and tie, but Zac was absolutely swamped, the trousers barely holding onto his hips and the jumper sleeves about two inches too long. I took Zac, found a shop assistant (one of the gawping girls) and asked if they had the jumper and trousers a couple of sizes down.

"Helloooo? Jumper. Pants. Too big. Need smaller." he said to the non- responsive shop assistant in his "retard" voice he reserved for such occasions.

"Oh, er, one moment, sir..." she stuttered and vanished into the stock room, only to reappear a moment later. "Pants?" she asked, blushing slightly.

"Pants, trousers, whatever..." said Zac, waving the legs of the ridiculously large pair he was wearing at the moment.

"Oh, sorry," she smiled shyly, and disappeared again.

"Geez, you'd have thought they'd never served a customer before," smiled Zac, putting on the zombie-like expression the assistant had.

Once we'd managed to get everyone suitably kited out, we took the whole lot to the desk to find what the damage was, and Ike sheepishly produced a rather new looking credit card. "Mom forced me to have it. She said I may need it in 'emergencies'."

"Excuse me, sir, are you Dean Lidster?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied, either shocked that I was known here.

"Your headmaster called saying your school will be footing the bill for this as part of the exchange. You don't need to pay..."

Ike looked rather relieved as the display on the cash register read _324.87. It would've been a lot for just a fortnight's stay, but the school is very picky in that aspect. However, they had also said that they weren't too picky about games kit - the Hansons could use whatever they had. This was quite unusual as games kit was actually considered school uniform and had to be worn "correctly" when required (e.g. PLAIN white T-shirt and white shorts for indoor games, school issue reversible top and blue shorts for outdoor games etc.)

Anyway, shopping completed we headed back to the car, laden with shit-coloured plastic bags full of tasteless school uniform. When we got back home, I ran over a bit of what they could expect from the school, both good and bad.

A fifteen hour day is about the norm, getting up at about half six to seven o'clock, having a shower and then walking up from the boarding houses to the school itself to catch breakfast. Zac had it easy here as he was to be in the Junior Boys' house, which was actually on site - no mile-and-a-half walk for him...

After breakfast, the whole school did a ten-minute clean-up of the school, each pupil being given his own specific area that was his or her responsibility. Then straight into chapel where, if you were lucky, you could catch up on the twenty minutes' sleep you felt you should have had in bed this morning as opposed to walking in to school.

After chapel were the first three lessons, all forty minutes each, taking you up to eleven o'clock and morning break. Catch a quick drink and a biscuit, and twenty minutes later you're into periods four and five. After that a fairly decent hour and a half for a fairly indecent lunch and some free time.

Two o'clock and you're back to work for the next two hours, breaking at ten past four for another drink and biscuit. Twenty to five and another two lessons until six. An hour for an evening meal and a little free time and then (no, we're not finished yet) "assignments" until half past eight where you do any work set for you during the day / on previous days (it's supervised and no talking's allowed). And, just to round things off, a nice mile and a half amble back to your boarding house. A little TV and believe me you're quite ready for bed at half nine.

Ike, Tay and Zac just sat on my bed, jaws virtually on the floor wondering what the hell they'd let themselves in for.

"And we do this EVERY day?" asked Tay after a moment's silence.

"You get a half-day on Wednesdays and Saturdays when you can wear your own clothes and do pretty well what you want. Then again that's when we play games fixtures against other schools, so if you're in a team you loose most of your free time. You don't need to worry about weekends, though. You can come home with me if you want..." I said, evil grin on my face.

"So when do we leave?" asked Ike, still looking apprehensive.

"This afternoon at about three. The earlier you leave the better the bed you get! I don't know who they'll have assigned to you as a Guide though. I tried to get you into my house, but there was only room for one of you. Don't worry, though, someone'll take you on!

"Zac, Gareth should be there already so you'll be VERY well looked after... Just remember, most of us area friendly bunch and if you have any probs, just ask! We don't have 'freshmen' as such - just be yourself.

"Oh, and remember to take your rollerblades - they make the walk up in the evening so much quicker! AND SMILE!! You won't be made to work that hard..."

CHAPTER TWO

We all piled into the car, complete with luggage, and set off towards the school. My mum'd wanted to come with us (she really just wanted to say "Good bye" to me, even if it was just for a week) but as our required passenger list stated three Hansons, one Lidster junior and a driver (my dad) there was no room...

After the initial shock of the routine I'd described to them earlier, my dad and myself filled them in on some of the more appealing aspects of the school: the outdoor activities, its location, the outdoor activities... Soon enough we were all happily chatting to one another as we tanked along the A50 from Derby: Ike, Tay and Zac filling my dad in on the finer points of "life on the road", me filling them in on some of the more (non 'R' rated) amusing incidents that can happen in a boarding school.

We soon arrived in "The Village" and drove round to Holmfield House, Ike's home for the next fourteen days or so. I introduced him to Mr. Jaykes his housemaster (a youngish guy - mid twenties I'd say) and they seemed to hit it off right away. Jaykesie was an amiable bloke to start with, but cross him and you knew about it. No such problem with Ike - they both warmed to each other and we said our temporary good-byes, Zac doing his "I love you, man..." and breaking down into tears routine.

We all climbed back into the car and headed for the main school itself where the Junior Boys' house was. As we pulled up outside, Russell strutted out with Gareth in tow, obviously under duress as he was being suspiciously calm and subdued about his boyfriend turning up. My dad, having had run-ins with Russell when I was a junior, recognised all his tricks and deceptive tactics and knew this one by heart. He strode over to him, grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously whilst simultaneously giving him a barrage of questions to deal with, subtly guiding him away from the house entrance to the garden. Zac and Gareth jumped at the opportunity he'd provided, giving each other a much warmer welcome than they "should" do. They broke apart as we heard my dad's voice coming closer and Gareth grabbed Zac's hand, pulling him into the house.

"You want us to get your case?" I yelled sarcastically after them.

"Please," came Gareth's muffled reply on behalf of Zac who, by the sounds of things, had his mouth as well as his hands full.

I cast my eyes heavenwards and then looked at Tay apologetically.

"I get caught just the same way. Zac gets so engrossed he just doesn't think. Actually, 'Just doesn't think' will do fine..."

We each grabbed an end to Zac's trunk and heaved it out of the back of the car.

"What the fuck has he got in here? It weighs a ton!"

"I think we'll have to unpack for him," decided Tay as we struggled the trunk into the house, up a flight of stairs and into their dorm. We found them joined at the lips, them flying apart as we walked in."

"Yeah, you'd better practice that one - Russell's a crafty sod..."

"OK, Zac, spill it. What you got in here?" asked Tay, undoing the second button on his shirt.

"Like you told me - just the essentials."

"Like hell," said Tay, flipping open the lid to reveal a surprisingly well packed trunk, considering it was Zac that'd packed it.

"OK, two pairs of school pants, white shirts, one pair of black shoes..." Zac smiled smugly as Tay couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. "And what's this? TWO pairs of rollerblades?"

"Gareth said he didn't have any..."

"An N64 joypad, complete with rumblepack - MY rumblepack..."

"Tay, you, uh, don't wanna..."

"Well shit me, look what it's attached to - OUR N64! You brought this all the way from the states? Without asking me?"

Zac just nodded.

"Well, as long as it's here," said Tay, pulling it and a large carrier bag of game carts from under Zac's clothes, "Dean and I get first go. At OUR house!"

"Aw, c'mon, Tay..." said Zac, putting on his best 'I'm da baby - gotta love me' look. It didn't wash.

"You can have it on Thursday."

"THURSDAY? That's over half the week!"

Tay grinned at me. "He's good, ya know. Won his grade's math prize two years running..."

Zac was just about to retaliate when Mr. Russell came striding through the door.

"Ah, Gareth, I'm glad to see you've got Zachary started already. Very good indeed. As for you, Mr. Lidster, you should know better having been here longer - You know you're not allowed in other boys' houses without asking permission first. Now I'll let it slip this time, but I won't be so lenient in the future. Clear?"

"Crystal, sir." He looked at me from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out if I was being comical, but my well-practiced ultra- sincere expression fooled him.

"Right - say your good-byes, Zachary. You can see your brother tomorrow at breakfast."

"See ya, butt features," grinned Zac, who promptly got glared by Russell.

"Eat me," retorted Tay, following me out the door. "Geez, that guy's a tight ass," commented Tay as we set off into the village to take us both to River House.

"Count yourself lucky you met him on a good day," said my dad. "He gets worse, to the parents, too..."

We pulled up outside River House and Tay and I dragged our cases from the car. My dad leant out of the driver's window. "Now, I'm under orders from your mother to say this - Be good, both of you..."

"Bye, dad - love you..."

"See you on Saturday, guys! Have fun..."

"Bye, Mr. Lidster!" Tay yelled as my dad pulled away from the curb, leaving us standing like a pair of hitchhikers. "Your dad's really cool,"

"Couldn't ask for more. And he handles Russell really well, too. You don't quite know how much grief he saved me..."

"Uh, I hope he's ready for a second round - did you see the look he shot Zac? Man..."

We started to pull our cases into the house's yard and I tried to open the door. It was locked.

"Oh, great. HEY, MR. CURRUTHERS! YOU IN?"

No reply.

"Tay, can you do one of those whistles?"

Tay shoved two fingers into his mouth and virtually pierced my eardrums with a long shrill tone.

"You've got to teach me how to do that some time."

"S'easy - you just stick two fingers in your mouth... Wike vat, an woo yust bwow..."

"PISS OFF!" came a yell from one of the attic windows.

"Uh, sir?"

"THAT YOU, LIDSTER? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? YOU'RE NOT DUE BACK UNTIL NEXT MONDAY..."

"Erm, it is next Monday, sir..."

"IS IT? OH. YOU'D BETTER COME IN THEN. WHO'S THAT WITH YOU?"

"Uh, I'd better tell you when we get inside, if that's OK, sir," I replied, not wanting to advertise to the entire neighbourhood we had a superstar (well, three) in our midst.

"AH, THE SECRETIVE TYPE. JOLLY GOOD..." he yelled and promptly disappeared, slamming the window shut after him. About five minutes later, he appeared behind the frosted glass of the back door and could be heard fumbling with a bunch of keys. Two drops and "BLAST!"s later, the door was opened revealing the wispy white- haired man that was Edward Curruthers, my house master.

"Ah, Lidster, my boy, good to see you," he said, waiving my hand up and down in a vigorous hand shake. "And this is..." he said, peering at Taylor over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Hanson, sir. Taylor Hanson." I introduced. As you may have guessed, Curruthers was your stereotypical public school master for the most part, hence the "surname first" convention. However, he was the only bloke I knew of his age that regularly used computers, the Internet, a Cassiopea palmtop thingy and a whole host of other hi-tech gismos and gadgets, half of which were bought, used once and then shoved on some shelf to collect dust until someone wanted to borrow them. His finest and most redeeming feature was, as far as I was concerned, his open-mindedness: Not just to new technologies, but to life in general.

When I told him I was gay, he came out with something I will never forget: "You sure, lad? Yes, of course you're sure, you know your own mind. Can't say I blame you though, considering the choice you've got girl-wise at this place. Personally, I've always liked big strapping women with meat on their bones and breasts and thighs to match: Something you can get your teeth into, what? They all look like beanpoles nowadays - they'd just snap if you tried anything interesting. No, good luck to you, lad - you be you. A good friend once told me that love is love - gender is just an accessory." I didn't know just how right he was...

"Hanson, eh?" he said, scanning down the clipboard clumsily screwed to the wall that held the house allocations for this half of term. " Ah, Hanson Jordan - That you?"

"Uh, sorta - I was christened Jordan but everyone calls me Taylor."

"All right, T-A-Y-L-O-R, " he said, amending the list in his unique form of hieroglyphics, "I'm Eddie Curruthers and I'm supposed to be your house master for the next, um..." he consulted the clipboard again. "...two weeks - that's right, isn't it?"

"Yeah, uh, I mean yes, sir,"

"Now look, Taylor, I don't really mind what you call me as long as its not too obscene, OK? The other members of staff, on the other hand, tend to be a bit stuck on this Sir / Miss thing. As a rule of thumb if you address every male member of staff as Sir, every lady as Miss - not ma'am - and you'll be fine. Oh, and if I call you Hanson rather than Taylor, don't take it too personally, OK? Force of habit. Very old dog, you see... Dean will show you to your dorm..." he said, and ambled off down the corridor.

"Uh, yessir, thankyou, sir..."

"He's not a bad bloke, just a bit scatterbrain occasionally,"

"Nah, he's cool. Where's this Dorm, then?"

I helped Tay up the two flights of steps with his suitcase to the second floor where our dorm was. Usually, the higher up the school you were the lower the floor you were on. This was no exception - above us in the Attic Dorm were the house's three third formers. Attic Dorm was pretty cool as it practically had its own obstacle course to race round at night, thanks to all the roof supports. Cool also described the temperature up there in the summer, thanks to the many unsealed holes. In winter it was bollock-knackering freezing!!

The second floor had two dorms: Meadow View Dorm and River View Dorm - no guesses where the oh-so-original names came from. Both dorms usually held four third or fourth formers but this time Meadow View - our dorm - had one of the beds swapped for a bunk to accommodate Tay. The first floor had another two dorms (usually fifth formers), Curruthers' flat an the bathrooms; and the ground floor had the sixth formers' dorm, kitchen, TV room and Curruthers' living room and kitchen.

My eyes scanned down the list of neatly laser-printed names on the door:

Hanson, Jordan T Lidster, Dean J Mercer, James L Singh, Ashish A Trivett, Steven D

Not a bad lot from all accounts, although I'd never shared a dorm with any of them (bar Tay) before. Ashish (Ash as he was more conveniently known) was a true blue, 100% Indian. However, he had been born and raised solely in the UK and had a perfect Derbyshire accent - not even the slightest hint of his "mother" tongue anywhere. He couldn't even speak a word of it anyway. Looks-wise, well, he was Indian - tall, black hair, mahogany skin, brown eyes and a set of love-tackle that'd look more at home on your average bull. He'd always be getting envious glances in the showers...

Steven Trivett had that Commando look about him - blonde crew cut, piercing blue eyes, light tan, and a set of muscles that some of the sixth formers envied, his party trick being that he could hold a coin between each ridge in his six pack...

Jamie Mercer was just cute. He had striking red-verging-on-orange hair in what was originally a centre parting at the start of the day, and freckles all over his body. He was still very much a 'little' boy (something which he desperately resented but could do nothing about) but had a superbly crisp soprano voice that had been in great demand over the just-passed festive season. He was a great extrovert and could get on with just about anyone, assuming that their hearing could put up with him.

Thankfully, Mr. Curruthers was not in the habit of allocating beds to pupils before they arrived ("Why the devil should I need to know where you're sleeping?" he replied when I asked him, eyebrow raised) and as we were the first to arrive in the house, we got first pick. I walked through the door and viewed the available choices: Three single beds, all looking very tired and a relatively newish-looking bunk bed. There were also two chests of draws and a wardrobe between us. Four people - fine. Five and it'd be tight, but I didn't mind sharing in this instance...

"How about we share the bunk?" I suggested. If he agreed to having the top one, I could be treated to a view of his boxer-clad mid section every morning...

"That'd be cool, but I'm sure I can give you a reason not to..." He walked over to the bunk, grabbed the foot board and pulled it gently back and forth. SQUEAK, SQUEAK...

"See? That comes from sharing a room. People who design bunks always get them to squeak, even when they're new..."

"Uh, OK - How about these two?" I asked, indicating two beds that were parallel and against the same wall, separated only by a bedside table.

"Yea, fine," said Tay and, taking a run up, went to leap on his bed.

"NO!" I screamed after him. Tay hit the brakes and miraculously managed to twist round and just sit heavily on the edge.

"What?"

I pulled up the mattress to reveal the bed's frame. Nothing but bits of plywood hammered onto a two-by-two framework with very flimsy plywood slats acting as bed springs. Despite it sounding really uncomfortable (which thinking about it, it probably is) you didn't really notice, except when someone decided to dive on you in a dorm raid / retaliation situation and half of your plywood slat thingies decided they couldn't cope and broke, sending you and your mattress to floor level. They did have one big advantage, though - they didn't squeak...

"Oh... So, you wanna get your case?"

"Sure..."

CHAPTER THREE

It was half six and we'd just finished our unpacking (not failing to notice we'd each brought a tube of KY with us) and were lying on our beds facing the ceiling, talking about nothing in particular.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Not a whole lot, actually. We could go and watch some TV if you want?"

Just then, we heard the trademark THUMP, THUMP, THUMP of someone single-handedly dragging a suitcase up the stairs to our floor. The door opened and a pair of trainers, closely followed by a maroon duffel bag were thrown through.

"Why can't they just listen to me and INSTALL A BLOODY LIFT!" yelled Ash back down the stairs.

"I've told you, when you give us the cash," came Curruthers' muffled reply from the floor below.

"OK - who've we got here, then," he said, thinking out loud not realising Tay and I were just inside. "Who the hell's Jordan T. Hanson? Dean... Arrgh! Not Jamie - my ears'll never survive... and Triv. OK - I could do a lot worse, I suppose..." he mumbled as he walked through the door, shoving his suitcase in front of him.

"Oh, hi Dean! I didn't realise you were he..." He stopped mid- sentence as he spotted Tay spread-eagled on his bed, his hair almost like a halo above him.

"Yo... You're, uh... You're..."

"I think you'd better sit down, Ash - you look quite pale..." I grinned. It was true - Ashish was the only coloured guy I knew that could go a lighter shade of brown when scared and / or shocked. This was just such an occasion. "Ashish, meet Taylor Hanson." Man, that sounded good! "Tay, this is Ashish Ashley Singh. Just call him Ash..."

Tay sat up on his bed, hair everywhere, and extended a hand towards Ash. "Pleased to meet you," he smiled, obviously amused at the reaction he'd caused. Somehow, Tay'd managed to get himself looking ultimately seductive without trying again, and I felt myself begin to get aroused...

Ash tentatively took Tay's and shook it. "Uh, l... Likewise..."

"Earth to Singh - he is a human, you know - just like you and me," I said, trying to get him to lighten up a bit.

"Oh, erm, sorry, uh, T.. Taylor, I..."

"It's cool, man," smiled back Tay, releasing Ash's hand. "I'm used to it!"

"No, sorry, I feel like such a jerk..."

"You play N64?" asked Tay, looking for an ice-breaker.

"Sure!"

"You up for it, Dean?"

"Only if you don't mind having both of your arses well and truly kicked," I said, knowing that unless it was Quake or something like that, I'd be the one getting slaughtered.

"In your dreams, Lidster," retorted Ash, being something of a Nintendo freak and starting to come back to his senses. Tay and I looked at each other, knowing what we really dreamed about whenever we weren't together...

Tay grabbed the N64 and me the bag of cartridges and all headed towards the TV room. We hooked the console up to the TV and switched them on.

Snow. Well, that was better than the end of last term when all it would display was a super-bright spot in the middle of the screen! I flicked through to an unused channel and his the "SEARCH" button, the half-dead LED display flashing violently to indicate is was at least trying to do something. After a minute or so, the N64's music broke through the static, followed by a rolling picture. After another few seconds, the screen flickered as it decided it was getting a yank NTSC signal and displayed a surprisingly steady (if letterbox shaped) MarioKart 64 screen. I hit "STORE" and the display stopped flashing, settling back to it's "I can't really be arsed" dim red.

Five rounds and five victories for Ash later, he proclaimed he was "to good to be playing with these amateurs." Not people to take abuse sitting down (not this type, anyway!) we decided to give Ash a run for his money. Sixth round, and as he lapped us for the second time, Tay and myself crunched him between our karts. Tay slammed on his brakes and I steered right hard, chucking Ash over the side of a cliff. Shame. This combined with either one of us "accidentally" yanking his controller cable out of the console when we thought he was winning a bit too much soon gave us the unfair advantage we needed, and we eventually managed to claw our way past Ash on the leader board. The thing that clenched it was when we promised not to pull his cable again and he did it to himself! As a consolation, Tay and I "let" him win again (and again, and again) which made him a bit happier.

Once we'd resigned ourselves to the fact that Ash would whip us at anything N64, we headed back towards the dorm. It was now half seven and, judging from the noise, quite a few more kids had turned up. When we reached the dorm, we could hear a heated argument and, judging by the difference in the pitch of voice, it was between Triv and Jamie.

"But I don't want to sleep on the top bunk! Besides, you're taller - you could reach easier."

"Yeah, but you know I don't sleep well. I'd fall out an' break my neck or somethin' daft. Besides, I was here first."

"Only because you dragged me out the way on the stairs!"

"What's that godda do with it? Nick that Hanson kid's bed. He's new - none of us know him..."

"I'd laugh if 'that Hanson kid' turned out to be one of them!"

"Why would one of the most well-off kids in the whole world decide to go to school in this dump..."

"They've been here before, remember?"

"Yeah, but that was a one-off. Go on, he won't mind..."

"And if it was one of them?"

"No way would one of those three stay here for more than one second longer than they had to..."

"Yeah, but if it was?"

"I'd blow you. Right infront of Dean, Ash and that other kid. And you could have the bottom bunk."

"You're that sure? You remember what happened when you said we'd win the World Cup."

"That was different..."

"And if I'm wrong?"

"You do me."

"No way! According to you I've as good as lost already. That's not really fair, is it?"

"Suppose... How about you run to the bogs naked and back again tomorrow morning, and I get the bottom bunk? Deal?"

Jamie was a fool and would agree to anything like that, even if he was sure to loose.

"Deal." They shook on it.

"Now?" whispered Tay, grinning.

I nodded my head and walked in, followed by Ash, Tay bringing up the rear.

"And this, TAYLOR, is your dorm again," I said as if I were touring him around the house.

Triv's jaw practically made a hole in the floor.

"Ha, NAILED!!!" laughed Jamie, not only pleased because Triv was wrong, but because he was going to get sucked for the second ever time, the first being when Triv bet him we were sure to win the world cup a couple of years back. One thing about Steven, though, was he stuck to his word regardless and no matter how many awkward positions it put him in, he always came through. As such he was highly trusted and a well respected member of the school, by staff and kids alike. He'd make a good soldier, one day...

"Hi, Taylor, I'm Jamie Mercer!" he said, bouncing over to us. Jamie never just walked anywhere - it wasn't in his character. He'd always bounce, shuffle, glide, cruise, saunter, amble or drag himself, but never walk...

"Hiya, Jamie," grinned Tay, smiling at his exuberance. It was nice to be greeted as a person rather than a deity once in a while, and Jamie had got it just right.

"You bastard," smiled Steven at Jamie. "You knew it was him all along, didn't you?"

"Honest I didn't, Triv! Taylor - have we met before?" he said, looking directly into Tay's eyes.

"I think I'd've remembered if we had, and you can call me Tay..."

"See?"

"How much did he pay you?" Triv asked, smiling and extending a hand towards Tay.

"Nothing, honesty! Pleased to meet you, uh, Steven..."

"Just call me cocksucker from now on," he said, shaking his head. I still couldn't believe he'd do it again, especially with Ash and myself looking on, never mind THE Taylor Hanson!

"Uh, if you want I could go ba..."

"Nope - I said I'd do it with 'that Hanson kid watching', so I will," he replied, walking over to the door and closing it tightly: The doorframe was so warped with age that if you gave it a hard enough shove it was almost as good as locking it. Without saying another word, Triv walked over to Jamie and dragged his jogger bottoms (sweatpants?) and kegs to his knees, exposing his little hairless dick and balls to us all.

"Oh fuck," was the only thing that passed Jamie's lips as, without hesitating for a moment, Triv dived into his crotch. It took only seconds for Jamie's little prick to stiffen to its full three inch length under the thorough onslaught of Steven's tongue. Jamie's legs began to buckle as his first orgasm hit him, Triv holding his arse cheeks up with his powerful arms, gently nibbling round his head as the prepubescent dick spasmed, trying to expel the as yet unexistant boycum.

I'll tell you something: With Triv you certainly got your money's worth, him sucking Jamie to a further two climaxes before, just as quickly as he started, pulled off of his still erect dick and yanked his kegs and trousers back up, a noticable tent now being present.

Jamie fell back on to his (bottom) bunk and sighed.

"Jesus that was good," he gasped, still short of breath. Jamie wasn't the only one with a tent in his trousers now, either: Ash, Tay and myself were displaying sizable lumps and, as Triv stood up, we saw he was too.

"Er, I, um... need the bog," announced Ash sheepishly, ripping the door open and legging it down the stairs. I looked at Tay who was having a rather unsuccessful attempt at rearranging his stiffie so that it was slightly less obvious. At present it was nearly perpendicular to him, actually pulling his baggy trousers tighter, giving me a glimpse of that cute arse of his. Baggy was certainly his style and suited him, but I wish he'd ware something a little tighter every once in a while...

"You wanna go watch TV?" I suggested, trying to get us all out of an awkward situation - for Tay especially.

"Sure," answered both Tay and Triv simultaneously, smiling at each other and putting themselves at rest.

"You coming?" I asked Jamie.

"Just did, thanks..."

CHAPTER FOUR

We headed down to the TV room, walking as normally as our subsiding hardons would allow, passing Mr. Curruthers who gave us his "Do I really want to know what you've been up to?" look. We all just smiled cordially back which reassured him enough to know we hadn't committed anything very illegal, so he just carried on pottering around the dorms, making sure everyone was settling in OK and trying to resolve the inevitable "this is MY locker" style disputes.

We went into the TV room where the lights had been dimmed to find (unsurprisingly) that there was not a great amount on TV. "Try Channel Five," someone yelled to David Pantall, our House Captain, who was lounging in a knackered old recliner, remote balanced precariously on the arm. He jabbed the '5' key - nothing happened. He pulled the back off the remote and rolled the batteries around until they were "just so" then, lifting the contraption carefully with his left hand covering the battery compartment so as not to upset his hard work, gently massaged the button for the second time. Astonishingly the TV responded and leapt to channel five, displaying their gordy logo as they linked between programmes. Dave smiled smugly as, so far, everyone else in the house simply couldn't get the damned remote to work. As a consequence they had to get up to use the TV's manual controls and as soon as they did, promptly lost their seat.

In the mean time, Triv displaced three third formers from the two- seater couch and motioned for us all to sit down before some other gannet-eyed opportunist nicked them. We all squeezed on, me yelping as I managed to sit on my keys. The third formers seemed to buzz around like flies that'd just been wafted from a loaf of bread, circling and landing as close to their original positions as they could, namely the arms and sides of the sofa. On Five was one of their few home-brewed programmes, namely one that was supposed to compete with ITV's "Movies, Games and Videos" and the BBC's "The O-Zone". No chance. However as there was naff-all else to do (it was dark, cold and wet outside - something UK residents get quite accustomed to...) we reasoned we may as well watch it. It was hosted by this complete tosser who thought he was THE best host in the world as well as being unbearably attractive to the opposite sex. No such luck, mate. However, when he wasn't on screen, it proved to be relatively entertaining, them going over some of the more popular songs over the last year.

It proved to be even more interesting when Hanson was mentioned as being responsible for the most irritating / memorable / enjoyable song with MMMBop, last year it going to No Mercy with "Where Do You Go". As the video started to play Tay, who'd dropped off to sleep, suddenly woke up, eyes straining to focus on the TV.

"Man, I thought they'd stopped runnin' this thing like months ago! And I look so YOUNG there..."

He was right - I'd never had the chance to compare them before and hadn't really thought there was a difference. Now I could see Tay had filled out quite a bit since they made the Vid - most noticeably in his facial proportions and his shoulders.

The door to the TV room was at the opposite end to the TV itself and this, combined with the dim lighting, meant we'd entered practically un-noticed.

"What d'you mean 'I look so young'..." asked Dave, swiveling round in his recliner to face Tay. "Fuck me! Somebody hit the lights!"

As the lights were wound up, the look of disbelief on Dave's face could now be seen. "I do not belieeeeve it," he said, doing a rather kacky impression of Victor Meldrew from One Foot In The Grave. "A superstar in my house! How come I never get told these things? Pleased to meet you, Taylor! Taylor Hanson, meet the rest of the House..."

"Uh, hi..." said Tay, turning a quite impressive shade of crimson. Despite him being able to play infront of thousands of people, he was still one of the shyest people I knew, but as far as I was concerned, that just made him all the more sexy...

Of the fifteen or so people in the room, about nine looked mildly shocked, two seemed to fall into instant lust and the remaining four did their "hard bastard don't give a shit" response. Being the sort of school we are, we've had the Sultan of Brunei's nephew, and the son of the Pakistani Coca Cola bottling company (Pakola, for those who don't know) but never someone so openly in the media spotlight: you never saw the other two on TV at least every week, if at all. As such after the usual whys and wherefores involved with a notable person "gracing us with their presence", Tay was accepted as just another new face, with one exception.

"Stay there," yelled one of the third formers, of whom I knew fairly little except that he was called Jason Arnold and was a Hanson fan. Now, I'm the first to admit that Hanson's music is top rate, but its Hanson the people I like, not just Hanson the music. Jason was a Hanson the Merchandise sort of person - if it had Hanson on it in any way, shape or form, he had it. Mugs, T-shirts, all their albums and singles (CD and cassette, of course), key rings, posters, you name it. Thankfully, he'd only brought a small selection with him this term and all that, as well as him, came bursting through the TV room door a moment later much to the amusement of his peers.

"Uh, Taylor, d'you think I could have your autograph?"

"I didn't even know half of this stuff'd been made!" exclaimed Tay, rather taken aback at the range of mugs, T-shirts and other paraphernalia that'd been chucked on his lap. Jason chucked him a marker. "My name's Jason - could you start with Middle of Nowhere?"

"You just sign one thing," interrupted Dave, all house captain-like. "Jason, you'll have plenty of time to harass Taylor over the next couple of weeks, OK? If he gives you any problems, Tay, I'm sure Dean and Triv can give you a hand putting him right..."

Jason looked at me, immediately jumping to the typical "long hair / ripped jeans" stereotype and then looked at Triv, and jumped to the "buzz-cut / dog tags" stereotype (which in Triv's case was spot on) and decided not to argue, tactfully removing the strewn Hanson merchandise from our laps. Tay held on to the CD though and signed the inlay booklet:

"To Jason - the most obsessed fan on the planet! Taylor"

"There you go," he said, handing back the CD and marker.

"Wow, thanks!" said Jason, grinning from ear to ear.

After this small amount of comic relief, Tay decided to go to bed he was "beat" from the flight. Not wanting to be too clingy, I said I'd be down here watching the end of the programme.

= = = = =

Watching the end of the programme soon turned into the inevitable "So what did you get up to over the holidays?" routine between everyone. As usual, the responses were as diverse as ever from a "quiet family Christmas" through to surfing in Australia. All right for some, I suppose...

By the time we'd finished swapping anecdotes, the Fourth Form bedtime of 9:45 had rolled round, and Triv, Ash (who'd turned up looking suitably relieved) myself and the other fourth formers were packed off to bed by Dave. We brushed our teeth and went up to the dorm, finding the lights out. Not wanting to disturb the sleeping beauties, as Ash put it (he didn't know how right he was) we got changed by the pale light of Ash's new toy - one of those American police style MagLites - and got into bed.

= = = = =

My face was immersed in the eerie blue pool of light created by my IndiGlow watch. 11:47PM. I breathed out hard, turning over for the umpteenth time in a desperate attempt to go to sleep, the sounds of deep, regular breathing all round me making me envious. I wished Tay was awake to keep me company...

I shuffled around again so I was lying on my back, my eyes focusing on the invisible ceiling above me. The almost psychedelic pale reds and blues of nothingness danced infont of me as I squeezed my eyelids tightly closed, swirling into complete blackness as I let them drift open again.

Getting bored with the vague amusement this sense was providing, I turned to my hearing, listening in great detail to the sounds of unconsciousness my friends were providing. As I listened, I tried to match a breathing sound to a person, swiveling my head around to allow my audio centers a better chance of triangulating their positions.

I could hear three distinct rhythms, bar my own. Jamie's seemed faster than the others, ending in a slight snore each time he breathed in. Triv's was easy to distinguish as it was the only one four feet above the others, and Ash's seemed slightly odd to me as he'd breathe in very deeply and slowly, pause for a second and then exhale quickly and noisily, pausing for a further couple of seconds before repeating it again.

Tay's steady, quiet sound that I'd come to know quite well over weeks past was missing, however. Straining my eyes I looked over at him, the minute amount of light that was allowed in by the thick curtains from the streetlamps outside allowing me to vaguely make out the elegant curves created by his hips and waist as he lay on his side.

Looking out of the corner of my eyes (the periphery of your vision is far more sensitive to contrast and movement than the centre) I could make out the rise and fall of his chest, but it was too quick and controlled for sleep. I dismissed it and rolled over again, this time taking my aggression out on my pillow by giving it a damn good thrashing, trying to persuade the thin layer of artificial filling to provide some support.

"Dean, you awake?" whispered Tay.

"How d'you guess?"

"I can't sleep either. I'm tired but I guess my body's still on US time..."

"I can never sleep first night back. Just one of those quirks I have."

We fell quiet for a minute.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm lonely..."

That was all the invitation I needed. I threw back my duvet and slid under Tay's, letting my arm run over his T-shirt clad chest. I snuggled up close to him, our bodies molding together as if one and it felt so right. I leant over and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Love you,"

"I love you too," he said, turning his head to face me. We kissed gently on the lips and both started to fall into the sleep we'd been searching for all evening, secure in each other's closeness.

CHAPTER FIVE

I woke to the clattering of third formers' feet down rickety wooden stairs outside our dorm door. I yawned one of those really big "first one of the morning" yawns, stretching my arms and legs to the extents of their travel in the process. As my arm came down, I felt it come into contact with something warm, which took me quite by surprise. I then remembered where I was - in Tay's bed - and then where I was again - at school.

"Morning," whispered Tay, rubbing his hand up and down my arm, giving me Goosebumps all over. I lent over and we kissed our first kiss of the day.

"I'd better get back to my own bed before..." I didn't have chance to finish. Curruthers smashed through our door, having tripped over the section of loose, unfastened carpet just outside.

"DAMN AND BLAST!" he yelled, steadying himself against a rather unstable wardrobe, causing it to teeter precariously back and forth. Once he'd recovered, he continued with his routine.

"Morning, chaps!" he said, switching the lights on and off a couple of times in a flawed attempt to get us out of bed. As anyone will know, during the holidays, kids of our age tend to go to bed as late as our bodies will allow (or later) and get up after twelve hours or so later; the outcome being us accustomed to getting up in the afternoon.

I squinted and rubbed my eyes as the bare electric light bulb displaced the relative calm of the darkness, revealing a lunar landscape of threadbare carpet, strewn clothes and assorted suitcases and handbaggage, all of which looked as if it had seen twice the amount of service it had been designed to. I got out of Tay's bed and promptly tripped over his knapsack, sending me flying back onto my own bed and landed in a very ungraceful heap. Curruthers eyed my in his "don't even try to explain" sort of look, smiling widely.

"Well, seeing as you two are up," Did I detect a slight emphasis on that last word? Surely not... "You can save me a job by getting these three up..." Without waiting for an answer, he strode out, shaking his head.

"That guy is seriously cool," said Tay. "D'you think he knew we'd slept together?"

"I'd say so. There's no way I could've got out of my bed and landed at this angle! So, do you wanna get 'em up, or shall I?"

"Let me," said Tay, putting two fingers to his lips. I covered my ears.

Jamie sat bolt upright as Tay's unbelievably piercing whistle echoed of the glossy walls and whacked his head on the bunk above him with a thud. He yelled and collapsed backwards, only to hit the back of his head on his headboard, causing him to yell again. He was now very wide awake, if a little dazed "Taylor, that could be classed as an offensive weapon," smiled Triv, gradually opening his eyes. Ash hadn't moved an inch. He was renowned for sleeping late and resisting all but the most persistent and uncomfortable "persuasive techniques" to get him out of bed.

"Ashish," I said, walking over to him. No response.

"ASHISH," I said, a little louder.

"Whatthefuckdyouwant..." came the duvet-muffled reply.

"Time to get up," I informed him. A hand emerged from under the duvet and gave me the bird.

"Fuck off."

"Aw, don't be mean," I said and ripped his cocoon-like duvet off him, allowing the chilly air in the dorm to attack his bare legs and arms, Goosebumps appearing almost immediately. Ash turned over onto his back so he could see me.

"I hate you with the very fabric of my being," he said in a flat, emotionless tone, best described as that of MTV's "Daria".

Tay and I just laughed and headed off to the bathroom after Triv and Jamie, the latter staggering a bit. Just so Ash didn't have the option, we took his duvet with us.

If you're a third former, you're keen. It's written into your contract. For some completely bizarre reason, when you get into third form, you feel an overwhelming desire to get up as early in the morning as is physically possible, have the quickest wash imaginable (if at all) and then leg it out the house and up to breakfast. Why they do this - just as I did a year back - is now completely beyond me: They get up so early breakfast hasn't started, so they hang around outside the dining hall for a half-hour...

This morning was no exception - by the time we'd reached the bathroom, the last third former was just slamming the back door behind him, cycle lights, helmet and school issue reflective belt in hand.

The school had always had a very prominent safety policy, but no more so after a car hit a kid as he was walking back to his boarding house one night.

He died a few hours later in hospital.

I never knew him (it happened before my time) but everyone knew of him - his parents were so dumbfounded by what happened they insisted the story be told to each newcomer as a warning, and to help the situation, the school imposed heavy penalties on kids not wearing reflective belts. If you were found not wearing one, you were gated for a fortnight without exception. Even one of the prefects fell foul to this, much to our amusement...

Thankfully, the "3rd form keen, 6th form can't give a shit" attitude worked well, Curruthers actually encouraging it: the reason being that it allowed quite a nice staggered start to the day, meaning the bathroom was free for the particular year wanting to use it and "traffic jams were less likely than in the evening.

No one was in the showers, so T-shirts and boxer shorts were flung off and the four of us leapt in, only to leap out again a second or so later.

"ARRGH! IT'S FUCKING FREEZING!" yelled Triv, outraged. If there was one thing he was partial to, it was his morning shower. ("Clears the shit outa my head" as he put it).

Curruthers, with his unique timing, stuck his head round the bathroom door. "I must tell you, lads, I forgot to switch the water heaters on again last night. You can have a shower if you want, but it might... be... a... bit..." he noticed that all four of us were naked, drenched and shivering madly. "...er, cold..." he finished, and made a rapid exit. Triv looked like he was about ready to kill someone, Curruthers probably being fairly high up on his list!

Tay grabbed my towel from the row of pegs behind us and began drying my back off without thinking. It hadn't occurred to me or Tay that doing this may be considered a little strange for a pair of fourteen year old lads, and was indicated but the sudden lack of noise - of any kind - from Jamie and Triv. I looked round to see both of them just staring at us, not quite sure what to make of it. Everyone knew I was gay, but what about Taylor? Was he just being friendly, or was there a little more to it?

He suddenly realised I was looking at something and followed my line of sight to the two gobsmacked teenagers. He realised what he'd done and blushed that deep shade of crimson that I loved so much. I was just about to try and explain when Jamie, as ever, broke the silence.

"Um, this may sound like a bit of a stupid question, but you two aren't, uh... You aren't... um..." Jamie was lost for words, which was very strange indeed: Articulation of the English language usually never posed a problem at all, much to the amusement of his peers...

Tay took my hand and squeezed it tight, giving us both the courage to nod yes.

The look of disbelief grew on both their faces.

"How long?" asked Triv, the idea of sentence construction escaping completely.

"About six months, I guess..." admitted Tay shyly, glancing at me and grinning a mischievous grin that gave away more than he realised.

"You're winding me up!" laughed Jamie. "You're not that lucky, Mr. Lidster..."

"Ya think? Would I do this?" grinned Tay and grabbed me in one of those fifties style movie embraces, me draped over his arm and gazing into those deep eyes of his. Before I realised it, he'd planted his lips firmly on my own, his tongue forcing entry, which I gladly permitted. As he was bent over me, I could feel his dick and balls rubbing against my thigh, their delicious warmth against my cold skin making my own dick rise to the occasion. I wrapped my arm around Tay's neck, pulling him tighter against me in order to become a more active participant. I'm not usually such an exhibitionist, but I couldn't care less if it meant Tay and I could share each other...

"Guys, if you're in those showers then you're all crazier than I th... FUCK ME!" Ash was another who wasn't afraid to express himself, even when he had just emerged from bed. Tay broke the kiss dramatically by swinging me back onto my feet, my hair going hippie- style infront of my face. Believe me, I felt how I looked!! As soon as Tay released me, I suddenly became very self-conscious, my erection jutting out infront of me not helping in the slightest. I was almost afraid to rake the hair from my eyes as it would mean making contact with the others. I bit the bullet and dragged my fingers through my hair and looked at Triv and Jamie.

You know those cartoons where a character's jaw drops to the ground? Enter these two! They couldn't believe what they'd just seen: Sure, they knew I was gay, but seeing me actually ACTING gay, especially with Tay, was a little too much for them to comprehend. However, in good "horny-lad" tradition, thy both had also got a little more excited than I'd have expected for a pair of straight lads. This made me feel a whole lot better, and I just shrugged my shoulders at them, smiling widely.

The spell was broken by the sound of the fifth form clattering down the stairs to the bathroom, and we all dived for our underwear to afford us a little modesty infront of the older lads. Glances were exchanged to ensure that this incident didn't go any further than the shower room, and we began to go back to the dorm to dress for school.

As we were leaving, the fifth formers muscled in, as yet unaware that the water was stone cold, and I noticed one or two of them looking Tay's half-naked body over, a couple shoving past him in a rather artificial manner in order to get a "feel" of him. I couldn't blame them a bit!

Back in the dorm there was a rather uneasy silence, the only sound that of arms being slid into cotton shirts etc. I couldn't live with this - I had to set the record straight one way or another with them.

"Uh, guys? Does what Tay and I did, um, bother you? I mean, you're not gonna freak are you?"

Jamie smiled widely. "Like hell it does! I'm as horny as shit now, and I can't do anything about it 'till this evening! My life's difficult enough as it is without you and Goldie Locks there turning me on..."

"Oh, I dunno," said Triv. "You got a fairly good deal last night..."

"Yeah, but it's THIS MORNING now! Can't you bet me pigs will fly or something?" Jamie said in exasperation, rubbing the bulge in the front of his dark grey trousers.

"No, but as long as you'll do me a favour, I'll get you off again..."

"Huh?!" Chorused everyone except Triv. This was getting a bit too good...

Tay sat by me on the edge of my bed and ran his hand up and down my thigh, his little finger just grazing my crotch slightly, and waited for the show to start.

"You're not Gay as well are you?" Jamie asked mockingly.

"I... I dunno... I really got turned on by watching those two," he said, glancing over at us. "and I wanna see how I feel..."

Jamie didn't quite know what to say - Triv with his hard commando looks and tented trousers was obviously having an effect on Jamie, but one that he himself wasn't quite prepared for. Jamie was quite visibly shaking now, half from excitement, half from fear. Emotions flashed across his face: joy, apprehension, lust, fear - all combining upon his rather delicate face. I looked down at my watch and noticed it was 7:30 already.

"Uh, guys, we'd better get up to school if we want to make breakfast."

Both Jamie and Triv relaxed as the focus of attention left them. We grabbed respective coats from the hooks on the door, and Tay and I picked up our blades from the side of my bed.

It was one of those fresh, crisp mornings that if you had time, would probably consider to be fairly beautiful. We didn't. Ash, Triv and Jamie headed for the bike sheds whilst Tay and I pulled our blades on and skated out onto the road, Tay takign a hard right and beginning to skate up the right hand side.

"'Scuse me, Mr. With-it, normal people tend to drive in the left hand side over here."

"Shit!" yelled Tay as he hastily made his way over to join me, a car screaming round the corner at breakneck speed a moment later. "I guess that could be rather bad for your health."

"HEY GUYS! HOLD ON A SECOND!" yelled Ike from behind us as he emerged from the lane that lead down to his house, his leather jacket flapping behind him. He came careering up to us and used Tay as a brake. "This boarding thing is seriously cool."

"Yeah? How come?"

"You haven't met my house master, Tay."

CHAPTER SIX

The glint in Ike's eye gave the game away, so we decided just to head off to school and leave the explanations until we could find somewhere a little more private. In a boarding school, that always presents a problem as there's someone somewhere all of the time but with a little persistence, the odd quiet spot could be found.

We skated the mile or so to school at a fair pace, the school drive turning into a racetrack as we all decided to try and out-blade each other. Tay was winning until a pebble jammed one of his blades, causing him to pull up fairly sharpish. I was skating right behind him - admiring the view - and was so preoccupied I didn't notice his speed had dropped to zero. My impact dislodged the stone and we coasted as one down the rest of the slight grade on the drive to the "back door" - Ike zooming past us to a convincing victory.

One of the main entrances for the pupils to the main school building was through "The Caves" - the school's basement. We rolled down the treacherously slippy slope and burst through the door, the handle embedding itself in the inch-deep hole made by many such entrances. Down here could be found the cloakroom, Rec. Room, assorted store rooms and the boiler room. Seeing as no-one important ever came down here, decoration was not a top priority: the hall was lit by bare electric light bulbs which picked out all of the imperfections on the untidily plastered ceiling - that is in the places the plaster was still clinging on. Telephone cables, power lines and pipes criss- crossed the ceiling, a couple of which were low enough to do yourself quite an injury with if you hadn't been warned.

We chucked our coats onto the deformed pegs in the cloakroom and headed up the concrete steps to the ground floor. I opened the door at the top of the stairs and the sound of a hundred or so teenagers busily shifting food into their faces and filling each other in on the latest greeted our ears. The d,cor up here was far more "civilised" (the walls had been painted within the last decade) as it was on general display to any parents who happened to come ambling through in search of a "lost" son or daughter.

"Mmm, smells real nice," said Tay sarcastically as he got a whiff of the slightly acrid smell of the dodgy school sausages. We continued down the corridor and turned into the dining hall. Breakfast here was, to be honest, fairly good. Every meal you had you generally got a choice. In the mornings, it was usually a choice of beans.

Beans and sausages, beans and scrambled egg, beans and bacon, beans on toast and, if any were available together, a combination thereof. You could usually grab a bowl of cereal and a glass of "real" fruit juice, real being used in its loosest possible sense. I have the feeling that the "juice" had been shown an orange or apple at some stage in its life, but didn't actually contain any.

I shuffled through the pile of trays at the end of the counter and selected three that didn't have chewing gum, dried jam or were encrusted with leftovers, and handed one to Ike and Tay.

"Morning, Heather!" I said to the plump lady stood behind the counter.

"'ey up, Dean!" she grinned. "Wot you 'avin this mornin'?" Heather wasn't the prettiest sight on earth, but she truly had a heart of gold. She knew every pupil and member of staff on a first name basis, never had a bad word to say about anyone (even the awkward bastards who constantly complained about the food - there's only so much you can do with a quid a day) and always managed to coax a smile from me, no matter how knackered or depressed I felt. You couldn't ask for a better start to the day.

"Erm, I'll have sausages and beans. and a couple of rounds of toast, please."

"There yer go, me luv," she said, handing me a plate loaded with the school's finest. "Yes, me duck?" she said, grinning her toothy grin at Tay.

"Are they, like, normal sausages?" he asked, eyeing my plate suspiciously. I cast my eyes heavenwards.

"Well, luv, roomer has it that they did come from a pig."

"They're dead, Tay, honest" I reassured him.

"Uh, I'll have the same again please," he said gingerly.

"You just remember, luv," grinned Heather, "I may be a big girl, but I'm a friendly one. What's yer name, luv?"

"Uh, Taylor."

"Taylor. That's a nice name. So if you're Taylor, this must be..." she screwed he face up in deep thought. "Isaac. Int it?"

"Yes, ma'am" said Ike, returning her smile.

"I'm Heather. Not ma'am, not miss, just Heather. OK?"

"Sure," answered Tay.

"Good! Now we've got that settled, yer can ave yer food!"

Ike was ultra-adventurous and had exactly the same as me and Tay. We balanced the plates precariously on the slippy surface of the tray and ambled into the dining room proper, and found a space on the table that Ash, Jamie and Triv were occupying. Bikes did have one distinct advantage - they were a whole lot quicker than blades. Conversation was made easily despite this morning's little silence, and soon everyone was avidly discussing the pros and cons of the school. We soon noticed Zac being his normal exuberant self a couple of tables infront of us, showing off to his peers like there was no tomorrow, much to the amusement of his older brothers. However, the happy scene soon degenerated into turmoil as Zac was doing his visually impressive "I'm being strangled" routine. He was leaning back on his chair, feet locked under the crossbar of the heavy wooden table as support, when Gareth decided it'd be fun to remove said counterbalance.

With a sharp tug, the table moved that crucial six inches away from Zac, leaving him with arms and legs flailing in mid air, desperately trying to fling himself forward again. No such luck. With a very loud "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" Zac fell backwards against the lad behind him. Big mistake.

The room fell silent as Nick Drage slowly lifted his head out of his breakfast, bits of beans and soggy toast landing with quiet splats on his tray.

Nick was, well, Nick. That's the only way of describing him. Six foot two and built like a brick shithouse, he was the school's best Prop in the first fifteen Rugby side - but what he had in stature, he lost in brains. "I'm not very clever, but I can lift heavy weights" was the standard Drage catchphrase whenever he was out of earshot. He lifted his hands to his face and scooped the sticky tomato sauce from his eyes, his face changing colour to match it. Slowly he stood up, his chair making an agonising screeching sound as he pushed it back with his highly muscled calves and turned to face the hysterical Zac on the floor, completely oblivious to the person he'd just dunked.

He only noticed when the sliding chair made contact with his little finger, trapping a small amount of his flesh between the chair leg and the polished wooden floor.

"Hey man, watch it." giggled Zac as his reflexes pulled his hand up. He looked up into the face of one extremely pissed off sixth former. "Oh, sorry man - I. I didn't mean to."

"Shut the fuck up you little pussyboy!"

"Hey! I said I was sorry."

"Is sorry gonna get this shit off me? Like fuck it is!" And with that, Nick dived for Zac. Zac scrabbled out of the way just in time, Nick landing on the back of the chair Zac'd just fallen off.

Nick yelled in pain as the old but sturdy piece of furniture dug into him. "Come 'ere, you little fuckwit!" he yelled, dragging himself to his feet just in time to see Zac legging it out the door, sending a couple of girls flying.

"Sorryyyyyyyyyy..." exclaimed Zac, his voice fading away down the corridor.

Everyone at our table looked in utter disbelief at what had just happened: never had I seen such an outburst in school, especially not one with such a real threat of someone getting seriously hurt.

Dave Pantall leapt out of his seat and managed to calm Drage down from his ultra-psycho state, but was obviously still pretty miffed, the remnants of his breakfast clinging to his unshaven cheeks.

"I think I'd better go find Zac," mumbled Ike, standing up from the table.

"Hanson, you'd better keep that brother o' yours as far away from me as ya can," postured Drage.

"Hey, ease up, will ya?" said Dave. "He's only a kid - it was a mistake..."

"Fuckwit," retorted Nick, the fires of anger gradually ebbing to a controllable size.

Zac pelted down the corridor that lead out to the quad, not particularly bothered where he ended up as long he was "out of range" of the psycho-ninja-bastard that wanted to remove some of his more popular body parts. As he rounded a corner of the corridor he turned his head to check his assailant wasn't too far behind. Thankfully, he wasn't their at all, Zac giving a silent sigh of relief. Then he found himself on the floor. At first, he thought he'd run into a wall (he'd done that twice before now) but as he pulled himself together, found himself staring into the eyes of a seriously cute lad, probably just a little older than himself.

"Hey, sorry man - you alright?"

"Yeah - I'll live..." said the dazed boy, also regaining the use of his lower limbs. He pulled his green school jersey round so that the arms were actually around his arms, having managed to migrate to a rather uncomfortable position during the collision. Once he'd straightened himself out, Jonathan Peitz looked for the first time at the guy who'd managed to total him.

Before him stood an out-of-breath, blonde-haired twelve year old with an apologetic smile on his face - a smile that went straight to his heart and melted it like butter. Jon went weak at the knees. He'd just been creamed by Zac Hanson - WOW! That meant that Zac had actually TOUCHED him! Jon's head was swimming: Ever since MMMBop had projected them into the media spotlight, Jon had been obsessed with Zac - the sound of his voice, his looks, his smile...

Before he really knew what he was doing, Jon quickly moved towards Zac and kissed him on the cheek. Realising what he'd done, he swore and legged it off down the corridor towards the quad. Zac just stood there. This was going to be a very good two weeks indeed...

CHAPTER SEVEN

As Ike got up, the rest of our table decided we didn't have a lot to hang around for, and so followed his lead, shoving our trays into the racks at the end of the dining room. As we noisily filtered out into the corridor, the bell rang signifying the start of Morning Cleaning. I grabbed Ike and Tay as they walked past one of the notice boards, pointing out the list of morning cleaning areas to them, my eyes scanning down the two-hundred-and-fifty strong list.

GORING, B (=) 24 HANSON, CI (+) 11 HANSON, JT (+) 18 HANSON, ZW (+) 05 HAWKESWORTH, CD (*) 12 .... LIDSTER, DJ (+) 18

I'd obviously done something right - Tay and I were assigned to the same area. My eyes then jumped to the list of areas beside the names list.

"Eighteen, eighteen," I mumbled to myself as I ran my finger down the list, Tay and Ike looking slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of notices and snippets of information scattered round the assorted notice boards.

"18 - Sports Hall Changing Rooms"

Tay grimaced slightly.

"Nah - that's a good one," I explained. "The Sports Hall has its own cleaners anyway - I did it last term and I only had to touch a broom once!" A look of relief spread across Tay's face. Ike'd got the idea and was looking up his number.

"Science Labs?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"That's another good one - you get to help some of the teachers prepare their practicals for that day - just be careful with the biology department - last term they had Triv part dissecting frogs ready for the fifth form..."

"Where's Zac going to be?"

"Er... Back Drive. Its outside, but it's not too difficult... Oh. There may be a small problem, though..."

"What?"

"Nick Drage is his supervisor! Judging by this morning if he's even a second late he'll be put on PD..."

"PD?" Asked Tay, the ins-and-outs of the school "law" not quite familiar to him.

"Prefect's Detention. Basically, you piss a sixth former off enough and as long as he can concoct a "valid" reason, you end up shovelling shit for an hour on the school farm."

"Do they do, like, season tickets? 'Cause I think we'd better get Zac one!" laughed Ike.

"Hey - it ain't funny! You can be put on three or four times in a row if you're not careful: Four hours standing knee-high in crap doesn't do too much for your social life - no-one'll come near you for a start!"

"Oh - I guess that could be kinda rough..."

"You're all right, Ike - I've only ever seen one sixth former on PD, but that was because he was on duty and wouldn't turn up on time. His team leader got so pissed off he put him on to try and teach him a lesson. Didn't work, though..."

"Hey guys! Whatcha doin'?" said Zac, walking round the corner with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"Finding out what's gonna make your life hell for the next fortnight," smiled Tay.

"Huh?"

"You know that guy that tried to kill you?"

"Yyyyeahhh..."

"He's gonna be your super for morning cleaning!"

"Yeah, right..."

"See for yourself..."

Zac looked down the lists, the smirk quickly dropping from his face.

"You'd better run - Nick doesn't give much leeway when it comes to sprogs..."

"SPROGS? I'm not a sprog!" protested Zac.

"You are now," grinned Tay, tussling Zac's hair.

"Gerroff!" yelled Zac, ducking away from his hand. He flicked his hair back with a toss of his head and pegged it down the corridor towards the back drive.

"C'mon Tay - we'd better get going too. Ike - take a left in the quad - the science labs are the newish looking buildings straight infront of you, 'K? The lab technician'll sort you out..."

I took Tay by the hand and pulled him off towards the sports hall.

Tay and I spent the next quarter of an hour lounging around in the sports hall drinking a couple of (extortionately priced) cans of cola, and trading stories and jokes, Tay coming out with by far the best:

"Hey Dean, you heard the one about the three guys in a bar?"

"Ermm - which one?"

"I'll tell you anyway...

"There were three guys sitting in a bar..."

"Yeah, you just said..."

"You wanna hear the joke?"

"I'm sorry..."

"'k. There were three guys sitting in a bar and they were drinkin' more and more. After a couple of hours they were, like, totally gone and so they decided they'd better get home. "They stood up and headed out to the parking lot. The first guy got into his car and just managed to get home, but he was sooo drunk that the moment he got through the door he started blowing chunks big time... "The second guy only managed to get into his car before he threw up, and then was so stoned he didn't even make it out of the parking lot - getting stopped by an inconveniently placed mailbox. "The third guy was even more drunk, threw up on the hood of his car and then passed out. "The next day, all three met up to talk about the previous night, the first guy telling his story, then the second, then the third, the third guy obviously figuring that he was the most drunk of the lot. "'Guys, I don't think you're with me here,' interrupted the first guy. 'Chunks is my dog...'"

"Woargh!! Tay, that's gross!"

"Good, huh?"

Just then the bell rang, signalling the mass immigration of pupils to chapel.

Entrance to chapel was the same every morning: two hundred and fifty kids being herded like a flock of sheep up two flights of stairs under the watchful eyes of the duty team, ensuring that no-one was queue barging or causing unnecessary hassle.

The queue gradually progressed up the well-worn stairs to the double doors, the sound of a couple of hundred kids chatting noisily to each other getting steadily louder.

As we entered the high-ceilinged room, complete with criss-crossed oak beams, I glanced round to see where there was a spare seat.

One of the many "unwritten rules" was where year groups sat in the morning. Chapel was arranged in a "U" shape, the centre of the "U" being the floor space where the unfortunate sod that had been forced to take chapel stood. It could be quite disturbing having an audience on three of the four compass-points, but gave rise to far more audience participation... The seats were tiered in semi-circular rows, getting higher the further back you went. First and second years sat on the front two rows of the semi-circle. Third years sat in a block directly North of the speaker. Fourth form sat in a block directly East near the back, Fifth form symmetrically opposite them (West of the speaker), the lower sixth at the back directly north of the speaker, the Upper sixth in a wedge shape north west, and the staff in another wedge shape to the north east.

Tay gazed around at the assorted stone carvings on the walls, and commenting on how private the block of seats "over there" looked, motioning to the fourth form area. In order to provide a more focusing atmosphere (according to the bloke who designed the Chapel's lighting system) the floor space was very brightly lit with four arc lamps. From there outwards, the lights became of a lower power and lower in density, making the light fade as you reached the perimeter. Just right for falling to sleep in...

"Dean! Tay! Up here..." Yelled Triv, waving madly from a secluded corner. Tay and I headed up towards him. Somehow Triv, for the last couple of terms or so, had had the soul responsibility of keeping Chapel clean and tidy for his morning cleaning job. This task rivalled mine and Tay's on the sports hall in the "Top Ten morning cleaning jobs" as the chapel too was cleaned by the cleaning staff, just leaving him to push a couple of hymn numbers into the hymn display board, conveniently located directly above his present position.

This also meant he could bagsie a few seats before the fight began to get "decent" seats - i.e. the ones furthest to the back...

We chatted idly for a few moments as the stragglers who had been kept back by their morning cleaning supervisors filtered in in dribs and drabs, showing the wear and tear that the less desirable outside jobs (e.g. Bins, sweeping etc.) imposed on them: Hair messed up and shirt tales hanging out - a finable offence...

"Could you be quiet now, please" rang out the PoD's voice from the doorway, indicating that the staff were on their way in. The chatter died down to a low mumble, and then ceased just as the first member of staff stepped into the room. This was something else I couldn't explain either: Why the hell did everyone shut up when they were asked to by the PoD? (S)He couldn't possibly put everyone on PD for not doing as they were told , yet everyone would always shut up... Guess it's just another of life's little mysteries...

The members of staff walked casually over to their seats, themselves going through their own little "Ha! I got the best seat today!" routine - there were certain combinations of members of staff that just didn't work well together, and both they and the old hands at the school knew exactly what these combinations were. As such, it was always amusing to see the lengths some of them would go to in order not to sit next to one another - some pretending to forget something and legging it back to the staff room, some dropping their specs or hymnbook and allowing another member of staff to "nick" their seat... It was sooo petty, but was a source of amusement none the less...

Once all the staff were as settled as they were going to be, the Headmaster strode in, closely followed by the PoD who closed the double doors behind him and went and sat next to the other members of his duty team. The head then proceeded to do his "Welcome back..." bit, which always started in a very off-handed way in my opinion: "Hello everyone! Nice to see you all back: I trust you had a good holiday. This term..."

This sentence rarely took more than three seconds to deliver and somehow seemed to immediately tone down the importance of anything interesting that happened over the last holiday: It was so brisk and matter-of-fact that it brought the whole school thing rushing back to the forefront of your mind, making you think that you'd hardly been away. From his point of view this was a good thing - but it usually sent my mind to daydream mode, and consequently anything he said from that point onwards was completely skipped by my brain.

From the sounds he was making, the headmaster was doing his usual spiel about how the new term should be treated with a new approach with study. In his opinion, the present term was always the most important academically, regardless of which form you were in or what subjects you were taking. True, the first couple of times you heard this it did seem rather appropriate, however the lack of innovation in this speech made it so that the point was soon lost amongst the pupils' thoughts of "Not AGAIN..."

In fact, some parts of it were so repetitive that certain members of the fifth form (a "bad year" according to the staff) could mouth along to the headmaster's words, much to the amusement of their peers.

I glanced over at the staff block to see the majority of them in the same semi-comatose state as the pupils with one notable exception: Russell. There he was, sat perfectly upright, almost getting off on listening to the headmaster's pearls of wisdom. Weird bloke. Then he spotted the group of comedians in the fifth form taking the piss out of "our glorious leader". His icy stare shot across chapel like a laser beam, knocking all fun clean out of them in the knowledge that they hadn't cleared their first day without being put on Hard Labour.

According to the school's "Staff Handbook" (of which someone had managed to swipe a copy) "all members of staff should clearly explain to a pupil the reason why they are being punished (even if it is obvious), the nature of their punishment and the time and location it is to be executed."

The use of the word "execute" in this context wasn't far off for Russell - he always managed to find a way to create the most inconvenient and "painful" punishments possible and, without exception, managed to get full co-operation from his colleagues: Usually, if there was a games fixture or similar, this would take priority over any punishments the other (i.e. non games staff) could doll out - after all said pupil would be representing his school, and him not turning up would be disgraceful, wouldn't it?

Russell had other plans. If a pupil had misbehaved, he deserved to be disgraced, belittled and humiliated in as many ways as he could think of. Being forced to miss a school Games Fixture was one of his favourites as not only did he get first stab at finding a suitably disagreeable task for the poor unfortunate to carry out, but also could sit back and watch with that shiver-inducing sadistic half- smile on his face as the poor boy's / girl's games master / mistress had another go at them, making them feel even more shot up than before.

I suppose that these punishments Russell dished out like bumper stickers at a political rally could be justified if the crime fitted the punishment, but that was rarely the case with "him". In all likelyhood, the lads mouthing along to the Head Master's speech would miss their next two Rugby matches, not wear casuals in their free time for a month and be forced to sit in Russell's classroom whenever they didn't have a lesson. Other staff would consider this an inconvenience - them having to supervise a group of fifth formers. But not Russell - he'd relish every minute of it knowing that as each second passed, so did one of theirs and the more depressing and downright inconvenient he could make it for them, the better - even going to the lengths of making them write lines, a punishment normally reserved for the very junior members of the school ("If you're going to act like children then you'll be PUNISHED like children!")

A loud kind of snorting snore suddenly punctuated the Headmaster's drone causing everyone to leap from their semi-unconscious states, heads whipping round to the staff block from where the noise had originated. Mr. Curruthers' head was tilted all the way back, mouth gaping, fast asleep. The deputy headmaster scooted over next to him and gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. Curruthers woke with a start (accompanied by a desperately loud yell) and looked round dazed. The entire school burst into waves of laughter at the sight of one of the staff doing exactly what each of us wanted to do, but daren't because of the ever vigilant Russell. In fact, judging by the look on his face, he wanted to punish the whole lot of us right now...

The head, unflustered, cleared his throat and decided to change tack to get the school's attention as far back to him as he could. He started welcoming all the new pupils and saying a little about each of them - there were twin girls from Iceland, a lad from outer London, two exchange students from South Africa and three brothers from Oklahoma...

As he said this, Zac stood up from his seat, waved to the crowd in general and said "Hi..." I felt Tay physically cringe next to me as if all of Zac's embarrassment had been telepathically transferred to him, and I couldn't help but smile...

The headmaster smiled weakly and motioned for him to sit back down again. Zac returned to his seat as quickly as he'd stood up from it with a "what'd I do?" look...

The rest of Chapel was unremarkable and blended into my mind as "just another chapel" - bar, of course, Zac's extrovert self- introduction... The first couple of periods that morning were a tutorial session between you and your Tutor. Each pupil had a member of staff assigned to him / her who was PERSONALLY responsible for your wellbeing - physical, social and academic - and was answerable to anyone as such. Your tutor was always associated with your house in some way, usually as a master who'd take house duty at least once a week, although there were a few who looked specifically after day pupils who were tied to a house, even if they didn't stay there. The whole house system provided a ground for friendly rivalry between houses and provided a common goal for each member of the school. On our way out of chapel, I stopped by yet another notice board, this time indicating tutor assignments. As the phrase went - "A tutor is for life, not just for Christmas" - your tutor stayed assigned to you from the moment you joined the school until either you or he (whichever came first!) left. I was lucky in that I had Curruthers as my tutor - not that I needed a great deal of looking after, but it was nice to have a friendly, open minded person to talk to...

As I'd expected, Tay had been assigned to Curruthers also - usually a "guidee" was assigned the same tutor as their "guide" to make the initial start at the school easier by having two easily accessible people to stay in contact with, this being especially important to the eleven-year-old First Year boarders: a school of two-hundred-and- fifty can seem very big indeed at that age... I dragged Tay off in the direction of Curruthers' classroom.

END OF PART ONE