THE DRAMA CLUB, Part 13 'Looking-Glass'
IF YOU LIKE DRAMA CLUB, consider joining the TragicRabbit list to keep up with chapters as soon as they are completed and to post comments directly to author:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TragicRabbit/?yguid=195216952
Drama Club is a work of fiction and all characters are imaginary. The story involves sex between teen boys so if that's illegal or offensive for you to read, don't. Author retains all rights. DO NOT download, copy, post/link to any site or otherwise reproduce this story without written permission from the author. TragicRabbit does not intend the story to condone any activity or group the characters are involved with; likewise, the opinions or actions of the characters are not meant to reflect beliefs of the author.
When you write directly to me, you are automatically added to my Drama Club mailing list and will receive new chapters, as they are finished and before they are posted. Let me know what you think of the characters, the storyline, my writing skills and anything else you like or dislike. All nice emails are answered. Tragic Rabbit's email has CHANGED to TragicRabbit11@aol.com. Please do not send emails with imbedded files or attachments. Is this a shameless hustle for emails? You betcha. Thanks again for your support! I'm still learning and all of you are helping me, even if it's just by reading Drama Club or joining the list, but the emails really keep me going. It was only six weeks ago that I started writing fiction!
Other fiction by Tragic Rabbit, including the new Drama Club spoof chapter 'The Farewell Tour', and regular Drama Club chapters long before they hit Nifty are available only at
www.awesomedude.com
'Do you take sinners here?'
Guys and Dolls (Loesser&Burrows,1950)
Jaye left Angel alone in the Mustang with a stack of CDs and stood beside the weeping willow outside Exodus Refuge to make his cell phone call to Trey. That's all he needed, he thought, was Angel listening in to that call. Jaye wasn't sure yet how he felt about Trey but one thing he was sure about was that he didn't want to hear what Angel might have to say on the subject. Sometimes his best friend could be a little too intense, and a maybe little too eager to find fault with Jaye, he sometimes thought. He wouldn't trade Angel for anything or anyone but now and then, he just needed some time alone in his own head.
Lately, he wasn't sure where he stood with Angel. Sure, they had sex, they talked every day in person, on the phone and online but that didn't mean he understood Angel or that Angel understood him anymore. And that's another thing, Angel was always so sure that he knew what Jaye was thinking, what Jaye was feeling. Jaye sometimes felt almost smothered, almost as if he didn't exist as a distinct and separate person from Angel. People would even talk to them as if they were only one person, and that one perception was usually focused on Angel himself with Jaye just an afterthought, like a sidekick...or a reflection in a mirror.
Lately, Jaye had been thinking about doing things without Angel, about thinking things without Angel, about being just Jaye for a change and not Angel's other half. Jaye might as well get used to it now, he thought in annoyance, just in case the thing with Michael actually happened. He had a feeling that, if it did, Michael wouldn't be including Jaye in that relationship, no matter what Angel wanted. And Jaye wasn't sure how he felt about that.
He'd been so angry yesterday morning when he'd gone to Angel's house and he still couldn't understand just why. Sure, he thought Michael was a jerk to just climb into bed with Gene when Angel turned him down but why did Jaye care what that jock did? It wasn't as if Angel was Jaye's boyfriend or anything. He didn't own Angel. But the idea of Angel dating Michael, of the two of them becoming boyfriends, had been making him increasingly nervous. He'd never seen Angel act like this, never seen that look in his eye that he got when he talked about Michael. It made Jaye feel... scared. And more than a little worried.
He had no idea what he'd do if he lost Angel's friendship and he didn't want to find out. They'd been friends for so long now that Angel was as much a part of him as his own shadow. What happened if your shadow, like Peter Pan's, decided it didn't need you anymore? Were you still real without it? And if so, how could you tell?
So he'd left the car to make his phone call to Trey. He didn't need to hear what Angel had to say about it, he could just imagine. Sex was one thing but he wasn't sure that maybe he might not want more from Trey. Oh, nothing major, not like boyfriends or anything, he wasn't gonna go nuts the way Michael had with Angel. He still couldn't believe what he'd seen when he'd picked up Angel this afternoon. The living room was full of flowers, for God's sake! Mary had been pleased, he could tell that. She was smiling when she looked at the flowers and sort of looked younger somehow, blushing and laughing. It was pretty cool that Mary didn't mind that it was another boy who'd brought those for Angel, Jaye realized, but still he wasn't crazy about her attitude.
Mary de la Torres didn't know Michael Morrison, she didn't know what the jocks at Northside were like. She probably had no idea how much shit they'd had to take for being Drama, for being different, for being gay. Angel had lied that time last year when he'd had to have four stitches in his cheek. He'd told his mother he'd fallen during rehearsal. Hell, no one knew what it was like, walking around school with a huge, neon sign over your head that said 'queer' in glowing letters. And people wondered why drama kids ran in packs and stuck together like some kind of gang. Jaye smiled to himself. The Drama Gang, with pink paisley sweatbands and rolled up scripts for weapons. Whipping out makeup kits from back pockets in self-defense. Touch ups at ten paces and may the best man win. As if anyone could beat Angel's skill with an eyeliner pencil, Jaye grinned to himself.
He got Trey's voicemail again. Shit, that was the third time today. What could Trey be doing that he didn't answer his phone messages? Maybe he should try the house line and see if he could get someone to answer. He punched in 411 and gave Trey's last name and address. He couldn't really remember anything about Trey's family, he had a feeling both parents lived there but wasn't too sure. Maybe a sister. Well, someone should answer if he called and he could leave a message with them. Maybe Trey's cell phone wasn't even on, since the show was over. Maybe Trey was taking a break from drama, from drama kids and those other workaholic techies. It was about damn time, if he was. Trey worked too hard, everyone knew that. Well, everyone except Trey himself.
He heard the house phone ringing and knelt down in the grass to wait. Glancing over at the car, he saw Angel leaning back in the front passenger seat, his eyes closed. They had no idea how long Gene would be inside Refuge or even if he'd get to see Bobby. Maybe they'd refuse or maybe they just wouldn't let him see Bobby alone. They were all really counting on someone seeing Bobby alone. They needed to know if he was okay and what these crazy Ex-Gays were doing to him and no way could they find that out if the keepers hovered around while Gene talked to him. Jaye had a feeling they weren't going to like what they found out, though.
This place had a seriously bad vibe. That stupid sign in the lobby was infuriating. 'Reparative therapy' for liking boys and then all that stuff about God. Jaye didn't know about them but his God didn't hate people for what they were. Hating people for who they loved was just the stupidest thing he could think of. The jocks at school were bad enough but these people claimed to have been gay themselves, which just made no sense to Jaye. How could you just turn off a part of yourself as basic as who you liked, who you loved? And why would you want to?
Someone picked up the phone at Trey's house and Jaye sat up a little straighter. He cleared his throat before asking to speak to Trey. He was a little nervous but also a little excited. He had a sudden vision of Trey lying beside him on the bed at Angel's house and that lazy smile of contentment that had been on the other boy's face. Trey's eyes were fantastic, that deep gray that seemed to see everything as he'd studied Jaye's face.
Jaye had felt so vulnerable, caught in Trey's eyes like that, so open. He wasn't sure he'd felt that way before, except now and then alone with Angel. And that wasn't the same, Angel knew him too well and yet somehow... not well enough. Trey looked at him a different way, as if learning as he watched and liking what he saw. It had really made Jaye feel...important. Cherished, almost, if that's the word. Trey had been a virgin before last night and Jaye was still amazed that he was the one Trey had wanted.
The look in Trey's eyes had been possessive, covetous even. And Jaye had liked being the object of that look much more than he could possibly ever explain to Angel. Or maybe even to himself. He just hoped Trey wasn't sorry about what they'd done together. Trey had been drinking although he said it was just so he could relax enough to tell Jaye how he felt. Jaye wished again he'd just gone on and asked Trey to come home with him last night. What was the worst that could have happened? Hell, he knew the answer to that, it's not as if it hadn't happened before. Trey would have woken up this morning and been furious with him, resentful or even...ashamed.
Jaye had been just too afraid to take that chance. All those times with Bobby had taken their toll on his self-confidence. It really hurt to be looked at that way. Like you'd done something bad and should be sorry when all you'd done was show someone you liked them. Jaye just couldn't understand how someone could want something one minute and, the next minute, accuse you of taking advantage, of wanting something you shouldn't. And Jaye had a feeling that this place, Exodus, was just going to make Bobby worse. The Dragon should have a car accident, maybe, and do the world a favor by leaving it. And Bobby's dad...Jaye just didn't have words for what he thought of Bobby's father. He really hoped Trey's parents weren't anything like that.
Trey's mother was on the line now, some little kid had answered the phone and gone to get her. Something about Trey and a problem. His mother sounded like a nice lady, she had a calm, pleasant voice when she spoke. But what she said wasn't pleasant.
Jesus Christ!
Jaye stood up, his heart pounding, and motioned to Angel in the car. Angel climbed out of the car and came over to stand beside Jaye under the weeping willow. He looked puzzled by Jaye's expression. Jaye held up his hand to Angel as he listened, asking for patience.
Jaye just couldn't fucking believe what he was hearing.
Someone had been waiting for Trey outside the party. Several someones. Waiting for any of them, most likely, but it had been Trey they'd found.
And now Trey was in the ICU.
Jaye had to get out of here.
'Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.'
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Lewis Carroll, 1865)
Waking around noon that Sunday, Michael rolled over and reached out for Gene, his eyes still closed. His hand touched cool sheets and pillows but nothing warmer. He was alone in the bed. Michael opened his eyes and blinked in the morning light, bright even through the blinds. What time was it? He sat up and stretched lazily, his arms above his head. He'd slept hard last night but he'd needed it. Where was Gene?
"Gene?" he called out quietly.
The room was silent except for the computer's soft noises in the corner. Keanu Reeves stared down, menacing him from the Matrix Reloaded poster on the wall beside the bed. That guy couldn't act but he certainly was sexy, thought Michael. And never more so than when he was wearing black and kicking ass. Michael pushed the covers back and stood up, disturbing the black cat on Gene's side of the bed. The tomcat gave him a sour look before rearranging himself into the warm spot Michael had just vacated.
"Sorry, Flash, I didn't see you there." Michael said in apology. The old cat looked up at him, eyelids closing slowly in a contented cat-smile. Michael reached out to stroke the cat's head gently before retrieving his boxers from the floor and pulling them on. He went out in search of his friend.
He found Gene in the kitchen, a carton of milk in front of him on the table, eating Froot Loops and reading the morning paper. Michael poured himself a bowl, got a spoon and sat down beside him.
"Morning, babe." Michael said as he poured milk onto his cereal.
Gene grunted in reply. He wasn't much of a morning person so Michael didn't expect more than that acknowledgment. Gene slid the sports and comics sections over to Michael without speaking. The two friends ate their cereal in a companionable silence, reading and crunching noisily, the sound loud in the quiet apartment. Barbara must be at work, Michael realized. Not that her presence would have been a problem, she loved Michael, he knew. The box of Froot Loops had actually been bought for him. It was his favorite. She always thought of things like that, managing to show in little ways that Michael was welcome there.
Gene finished his cereal and pushed the bowl towards the center of the table. He leaned back in the chair and picked up the mug of coffee that had been cooling at his elbow. He took a careful sip and grimaced. Too cool; he hated lukewarm coffee almost as much as he hated scalding hot coffee. There was a certain exact temperature he preferred and it was a delicate art, guessing just when to start drinking. He pushed back from the table and stood, carrying the mug into the kitchen to the microwave on the counter.
Michael watched his friend, taking in the tall form in the loose, maroon striped cotton pajamas. Gene managed to look graceful even in clothes like this, Michael decided, his friend's slender body moved like a cat as he padded barefoot across the floor. Gene's black hair was tousled from sleep and it shone in the sunlight that bathed the kitchen in warmth.
Michael watched Gene's hands fiddle with the microwave controls, his slim fingers tapping on the keypad. Gene just had no idea how sensual his ordinary movements were, thought Michael. He stood and walked over to stand behind his friend, placing his hands around Gene's waist. Gene sighed and leaned back into Michael's body.
"You feel good." Gene whispered.
Michael smiled and nuzzled his neck. Gene smelled good, he could just catch the scent of sleep and sex on the other boy.
"I was just going to say the same thing to you." Michael said.
Gene chuckled.
"I can't believe how late you slept, Mikey. When I got up, you were like the dead; you didn't budge so I left you alone. Thought you must be more tired than I realized."
Michael nodded his head against Gene's neck, breathing in again.
"Yeah, I guess I was. I feel pretty good now, though." He said, grinding his crotch playfully into Gene. Gene laughed and turned around in his arms, pulling him closer.
"Damn, you and your energetic morning ideas. I think you like it when I'm half-asleep." he complained with a smile.
"Mmm." Michael answered, looking up into Gene's black eyes. He reached his hand to the side of Gene's face and pulled him down into a gentle kiss. Gene tasted like Froot Loops and coffee. Gene kissed him back lightly at first, then a little more energetically. He felt Gene's interest swell against his abdomen. He pulled back a little to regard his friend with amusement.
"You seem awake now, babe." he said softly. Gene blushed and looked at the ceiling, then back.
"Well, hell, Michael, I'm rested, too. And there's not a single solitary thing that I have to do today."
Michael raised his eyebrow.
"Really? Now that's an interesting proposition."
Gene blushed deeper, fighting an embarrassed smile and losing. Michael laughed.
"Wanna go disturb Flash? He's way too comfy on the bed right now." Michael suggested, pulling Gene's body closer.
The microwave beeped.
Gene chuckled. The damned coffee could wait.
'My unhappiness came on very suddenly, maybe it'll go away.'
Skye Masterson, Guys and Dolls (1950)
Angel was painting his toenails when Camille called. He stood up, pink foam dividers separating his toes, and walked carefully over to his bedside table to pick up the cell phone. He sat down, pulling up his knees and placing his heels on the edge of the bed so that he could blow on the last coat of blush pink polish before applying the clear coat that would seal the color. He read the name on the caller ID, pushed the talk button and spoke.
"Hi, Camille."
"Angel." she said, by way of greeting. Her voice was low, he punched up the volume. "Are you busy?"
"Not really, " he answered. "Thought I might call Jaye and go see Bobby today, if we can figure out a way in that place."
Camille made a noncommittal noise into the phone. Angel wiggled his toes and blew on them again, waiting.
"Something up, Camille?" he finally asked.
"Uh-huh."
Angel suddenly remembered her arguement with Doug last night at the party.
"Something about Doug? You guys have a fight?" he asked her cautiously.
There was a muffled sound on the other end. Was she crying?
"Camille?"
"Yeah?" she said through a clearly identifiable sniffle.
"Tell me?"
"Yeah." Her voice was tired sounding. He waited.
"Well, um...should I guess?" He asked as he tapped his toenails lightly with a fingernail, checking for tackiness in the polish. Not yet. He wiggled his toes in an effort to dry them faster.
She snorted.
"You couldn't possibly guess, Angel."
"Okay, so tell me then."
"Umm...it's stupid. I mean, I'm stupid, we were stupid. I mean, I'm not sure how but it's definitely stupid. I mean...it sucks."
"He's not, like...cheating on you is he? Doug? I mean, I can't imagine that but..."
"No, not hardly. Not that. Not Doug."
"So okay, what then? You're upset, I can tell, so its something bad, I know it. Tell me so I can help, do something... whatever you need." he told her.
She exhaled heavily.
"That's just it, I don't know what I need, Angel."
"You wanna come over?" he asked her.
"Uh-uh. I don't want to go anywhere right now. There's nobody home and its quiet, and I like it quiet right now. I don't want to see anyone, really. I just want to talk."
"Okay, so talk, honey. I'm listening." Angel picked up the bottle of clear polish and twisted it open with difficulty, the dried polish making the top stick.
Camille sighed. There was a few moments' silence before she spoke again.
"I'm pregnant." she said flatly.
Angel dropped the brush cap of the nail polish onto the carpet. He scrambled to get it as he responded.
"Are you sure? I mean...how do you know you're pregnant?"
"Duh, Angel, don't be such a gay boy. Yeah, I'm sure. I haven't had my period so I bought one of those tests. I'm pregnant alright." She sounded bitter, he thought.
"Okay, look. Those tests you buy supposedly aren't that reliable. You should go to a clinic or something. Uh...do you know one to go to? Like, Planned Parenthood or something?" he asked her.
"The test isn't wrong, Angel, I know I'm pregnant. But, yeah, I have an appointment on Wednesday after school. Doug's driving me."
"So Doug knows?"
"Well, yeah, of course. I told him last night."
"And?"
She made a rude noise. "He wants us to get married."
Angel was silent, thinking.
"Well?" he said finally, "Weren't you guys gonna get married sometime anyway?"
Camille clucked her tongue and didn't answer.
"Camille?"
"That's not the point, Angel, the point is that I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a baby unless I...well, unless I do something about it."
Angel rubbed his fingertips against his temple, his eyes closed. The rush of feeling he got just now surprised him. He knew he was Catholic, he just didn't always know how Catholic.
"What does Doug say about that?" he asked neutrally.
"Fuck, Doug wants to get married and have the damn baby. But its not him that'd have the thing, its me who'd have to be fat for nine months and give birth and probably never dance again." She spat out, suddenly furious.
Angel swallowed hard. He wondered if his mother was up, if she would talk to Camille. Of course, Camille might not talk to her even if she did. And maybe Camille wouldn't want him to tell anyone, anyway. Damn. This definitely wasn't one of his areas of expertise.
"Um, Camille? Listen, don't do anything hasty, okay? I mean, well...we need to talk. You need to talk."
"I know," she said, resigned, "that's why I fucking called you."
He thought for a minute. He heard music faintly on her end of the line.
"Listen, can you come over tonight, have supper with me and mom?"
Camille was silent for a moment.
"Maybe." There was another pause. "You aren't gonna tell your mom are you?"
"Well, not if you don't want me to. But I think I should or maybe you should. She's really cool, honey, she could help, I know it. You can trust her, Camille. I promise." Angel said, hoping that last was true. He didn't know anything about pregnant girls but he bet his mom did. He didn't even have to ask if Camille had told her parents, of course, she never told them anything and they never asked. The McLemores were the most useless parents he knew. Last year, they'd forgotten their own daughter's birthday, for Gods' sake. I mean, how the hell can you do that, Angel wondered. Total losers. Like Camille was invisible or something. He noticed she hadn't answered him.
"Uh, Camille? Tonight, alright? And I won't say anything unless you tell me its okay to."
Silence.
"Okay. Just to talk. To you, Angel. Don't say anything to your mom, okay?"
He sighed, resigned.
"Okay. Around seven, okay? You're gonna be here, right?"
"Yeah. I'll be there." Camille said and disconnected.
Angel set the phone down and picked up the clear bottle of polish. He sat looking at it for some time before he finally opened it and finished his toenails.
'What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where you come from?'
Through the Looking-Glass (Lewis Carroll, 1872)
Michael stretched out on the bed next to Gene, put his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling. How do they get those nubbly bits so neat and high up there in the plaster, he wondered. You could usually see patterns in the ceiling nubbles, tiny shadows in the daytime that moved as the sun did and then strange black shapes in the moonlight that would creep stealthily across the ceiling surface. Michael felt sleepy again, he usually felt a little sleepy after making love and he wondered why that was. I guess I'm wondering too damn much, he thought, and rolled over into the pillow. He could hear Gene's even breathing; Michael definitely wasn't the only one who fell asleep afterwards. He pushed his head into the pillow and let his mind wander.
Tomorrow at school, now that was a subject he would willingly forget about if he could. He had no idea what would happen when he showed up in the drama room to walk Angel to first period but he was going to do it anyway. Hell, he didn't know if Angel would let him. Even if Angel didn't want Michael there, he was still going to walk Angel to class. To every single class that he could, tomorrow and every day this week. He thought back to Angel at the party last night and smiled. He had a feeling that Angel wouldn't mind too much. Angel really did like him, Michael was sure of it; Angel just hadn't decided whether to let himself like Michael or not. Whether to let himself like a jock or not. Or whether to let himself have a boyfriend.
And Michael did not intend to allow Angel time to make the wrong choice. Michael would be around, and underfoot, at Angel's side and in his thoughts as much as he possibly could. He had six loving notes written out to put in Angel's locker between classes. He had Angel's class schedule printed out and neatly folded in the outer pocket of his backpack. He had a blank office pass that he could forge to get Angel out of class unexpectedly as a surprise. He had extra money to take Angel to lunch off campus or, if Angel insisted, to buy his lunch in the cafeteria. And Michael would sit with him, even if it meant sitting with the other drama kids. There was only one thing Michael didn't have a plan for.
He didn't have a plan for what the hell he would do when everyone else saw what he was doing and wondered why. No, the why would be obvious. It wouldn't be like following Gene Kuo around last year; no one ever seemed to think a debater might be gay. No, this would be different, very, very different. Following Angel de la Torres around the school tomorrow would make one thing crystal clear in everyone's mind. One single, simple thing that couldn't be denied. Not anymore. Not while standing beside the best known homosexual at Northside High School; not while walking him to class and buying his lunch. Not while shadowing Angel's every step with what was probably going to be a lovesick look on his face, perhaps somewhat tempered by another emotion. Fear. Absolute outright terror.
How did Angel do it, he wondered, worried. How did he walk around the school, knowing that everyone knew about him, and still manage to hold up his head the way he did? People said things, Michael had seen them do it, and they weren't always nice things. He'd seen kids push Angel's books out of his hands; he'd seen others insult and threaten the slender boy. He'd always thought Angel was brave and now he wondered how the hell he did it. How did Angel manage to ignore enough to keep his composure, his self-respect, and his sanity? Michael had no idea. But he had a feeling he was going to find out. Firsthand and front row. Tomorrow.
And Michael was terrified at the prospect.
'In the whole vast configuration of things,
I'd say you were nothing more than a
scurvy little spider."
It's a Wonderful Life (Republic Pictures, 1946)
Blackness.
Colors and pain flickered bright behind his eyes and then were gone, leaving nothing.
Trey couldn't feel anything, couldn't see anything.
What he heard were voices in the darkness.
"Jesus, who the hell is this fuckwad?"
"Fuck if I know."
"Jesus, Billy, I said the other one. The little Spic. Who the hell is this asshole?"
Trey felt himself moving, rough hands on his body; he was floating.
"God damn you mother fuckers! I wanted that little drama faggot. Who the fuck is this guy?"
"Will you shut the fuck up, Sellers? This guy may not be who you wanted but this faggot sure was just sucking off his friend in that car. I fucking saw him, dammit. I did not fuck up, you wanted a queer and you got a queer. What's the big fuckin' deal, anyway?"
"I told you what the big fucking deal was, asshole, that little Spic queer has it coming to him, that's what. He needs to learn some fucking respect, is what. I fucking told him what would happen if he spouted off again with that fag attitude shit. That was the whole fucking point, Billy."
Trey felt a sharp pain in his side as the steel-toed boot connected with his body.
"The... whole... fucking... point!"
Trey felt the boot again. And again. There was almost no pain this time. He felt a weakness in his center that blossomed outwards to envelop his whole awareness. His fingers and toes tingled, then went numb.
Colors again, then darkness.
There was nothing.
And Trey was lost in the dark.
"Are you still gay, son?"
In and Out (Paramount Pictures, 1998)
Michael woke up and, without opening his eyes, he reached out for Gene in the bed. Nothing but sheets and pillows and... an angry cat. He opened his eyes into the face of Flash, whose indignant expression made him laugh, waking Michael fully up.
"Sorry, boy, I was looking for your Daddy."
Flash turned his face away from Michael pointedly and began grooming his shoulder, drawing his tongue down the black fur without so much as glancing back up at the rude human.
Michael chuckled.
"Sorry, Flash." he said again.
"Talking to the cat, Mikey?" Gene asked from the computer desk in the corner.
Michael looked up and nodded.
"Yeah, I think I pissed him off again."
"You just have no manners, Mike. You should watch Flash and learn, cats have the best manners. Better than people."
"That wouldn't be too difficult if you're the example of human manners." Michael said, drawing himself up to sit on the side of the bed.
Gene turned to look at him. Michael naked in his bed was one of Gene's favorite sights. Even when he looked rumpled and sweaty like this. Gene grinned mischievously.
"Speak for yourself, dumbass, Flash looks like he already made up his mind. He's ignoring you."
Michael narrowed his eyes at his friend.
"Well, if you're anything to go by, that cat's one lousy etiquette teacher. Your table manners are like a four-year-old's and your vocabulary's worse than a Hong Kong sailor's. And you always leave the seat up. Barbara should kick your butt." said Michael.
"Leave my butt out of this, you dumbass. Cute dumbass, but dumbass just the same." said Gene.
Michael batted his eyes.
"Debate geek." he retorted with a smirk.
Gene stood up and walked towards the bed wiggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, you wanna fight, huh?" Gene asked, moving closer.
"Geek. Debate nerd. Trekkie!" Michael taunted, stifling laughter.
Gene raised his eyebrows and dove at the bed.
Michael giggled and slid under the covers just as Gene pounced, sending Flash off the bed in a blur of black fur. Gene threw the covers off of Michael and grabbed him around the waist, wrestling him down to the mattress. Michael was laughing so hard he couldn't put up much resistance and he managed to kick off the pillows with his efforts. Gene held him down, hands on his shoulders and stared solemnly into his face.
"Okay, you dumb jock, you know the penalty for disrespect!"
Michael stuck out his tongue.
"You just don't know when to quit, do you, Mikey?"
Michael snickered and tried to wiggle out from under his friend. And that's when Gene deployed the ultimate weapon in his arsenal.
He tickled Michael.
Michael howled and thrashed as Gene ran his fingers up Michael's naked sides and down again, just lightly enough to drive Mike crazy.
"Stop, stop...stop it!" he begged, gasping for air.
"Make me." Gene said, smug, leaning all his weight onto Michael's shoulders, pinning him to the bed. Gene looked into Michael's eyes and grinned.
"Some star athlete, huh?" he asked the panting football player.
Michael growled and bucked once, hard, taking Gene by surprise and wriggling out from under before he could recover. He twisted fast and pushed Gene down to the mattress, still gasping for breath and laughing now at Gene's expression.
"Aha! Victory is mine! And you remember what goes to the victor, don't you, Gene?"
Gene writhed under him but the bigger boy had him pinned down with all his weight. Michael felt himself start to respond to Gene's proximity and sucked in a deep breath. Gene went limp and sighed in mock dejection.
Gene could feel the other boy's interest stirring against his leg. He looked up at Michael.
"Okay, you win, now can we stop being childish?" Gene asked in a haughty voice, but he couldn't quite keep from smiling.
Michael laughed.
"Oh, when you're winning, it's okay but when I'm winning, it's childish? That's such a lame attempt, Mr. Kuo, its so beneath you." Michael leaned his face closer to Gene's.
"I think you mentioned... penalties?" Mike said, his face just inches from Gene. "Just what exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Kuo?"
Gene blushed and looked away.
"I thought so." Michael said softly and pressed his lips to Gene's.
To the victor go the spoils, thought Michael, as he let his weight down gently onto Gene. Gene's arms wrapped around him, making him shiver.
In the back of his mind came the thought: I wonder how much longer we can be this kind of friends?
And what will I do without him?
"Is that so terrible, to be marked as a chump?"
Sister Sarah, Guys and Dolls (Loesser&Burrows, 1950)
Trey came out of the darkness with a terrible thirst. He opened his eyes to a blur of bright white that hurt deep in his head. His mouth felt like rough cotton had been shoved in and stamped down hard and tight, making it difficult to breath, impossible to speak. He could make nothing out visually but he could feel a bed under him and a burning in his right hand like a spider sting that wouldn't go away. Where was his left hand?
Someone was holding it.
Trey squeezed the hand that held his.
"He's awake." said a voice.
Someone else said softly, "I'll get the nurse." His mother's voice?
Suddenly, there was movement in the blurry white of his vision. He heard voices speaking low and the sound of a door opening and closing.
The hand on his clenched tighter.
"Trey?"
He tried to speak but what came out were garbled, grunting noises. He tried to clear his throat. It hurt so much even to try. He felt like he was choking on dry cotton balls.
"Water." He tried to say but what came out was a croaking noise like gravel.
The hand on his gently disengaged.
Trey felt something at his lips, a straw. He sucked at it, desperate for liquid. Coolness slid down his throat, a blessed relief. He pulled in more water until he finally lay back against the pillow, weak but a little clearer in his head now. The water seemed to lubricate his throat and he tried to speak again.
"What...?" he managed to gasp.
"What happened?" asked the other voice, the deeper voice, the one Trey wasn't as sure about. "You were attacked, Trey, after the party." Trey struggled to clear his vision and turned toward the voice.
"Did you get a look at who did it, can you give a description?" the voice asked.
He strained to see who was beside him. He knew that voice.
"Yeah." Trey croaked out roughly.
"Yeah, meaning you saw the guys, Trey?"
Trey nodded, trying to force his eyes to focus on the blur that must surely be a face next to his.
"Do you know who it was, hon?"
He knew that voice. He nodded.
He felt lips brush his. His eyes widened and he could see, this close, the face beside him.
It was Jaye Peterson, his face very close to Trey's.
Relief coursed through him. Somehow, he thought what had happened had happened to Jaye, too. Thank God, he thought. But Jaye had asked a question.
And Trey knew the answer.
"Ryan... Sellers." Trey said roughly. His throat hurt, his head was spinning again and he saw colors behind his eyelids. He closed his eyes. Had Jaye heard him?
"Shhh..."
"Ryan...it was ...Ryan." Trey said again. He felt Jaye's hand squeeze his tightly and Jaye's lips against his forehead.
"Shhh...rest. Sleep, Trey." Jaye said in a soft whisper. Trey nodded, feeling the darkness suck him down again, as he grew dizzy.
"Ryan..." he managed to get out.
"Shhh, I know, I hear you, Trey. We'll take care of it when you're better. Go to sleep now."
Trey felt Jaye's lips on his as he fell deeply into something that was more than sleep but less than the blackness that had overwhelmed him before and nearly kept him deep under its black waters.
Trey knew he'd be back this time. He hadn't known that before with any certainty.
He wanted Jaye to kiss him again.
And he wanted to fucking kill Ryan Sellers.
'Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that."
Red Queen to Alice, Through the Looking-Glass (Lewis Carroll, 1872)
[End of part 13]
IF YOU LIKE DRAMA CLUB, consider joining the TragicRabbit list to keep up with chapters as soon as they are completed and to post comments directly to author:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TragicRabbit/?yguid=195216952
Other fiction by Tragic Rabbit, including the new Drama Club spoof chapter 'The Farewell Tour', and regular Drama Club chapters long before they hit Nifty are available only at:
www.awesomedude.com
Email the author at TragicRabbit11@aol.com