GROOVY KIND OF LOVE *******************

For the disclaimer, please read Part 1.

This story may be reprinted anywhere on the Net, as long

as it's done intact, without changing a single word,

and preserving my copyright & Email address. And that's

Copyright 2001 ThePecman@yahoo.com. All rights reserved. -----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7

When I got home that night, my parents took one look at me and completely freaked out. I told them it was nothing, that I had slipped on a diving board during practice, but I didn't think they bought it. They demanded that I go to the hospital immediately, but I adamantly refused, insisting I was fine. My mother was practically in tears.

Dad took a good look at my jaw. "Well," he said, "I don't think it's broken, but that tooth looks pretty bad. We're going to call the dentist right now and ask him if he'll see you in the morning for an emergency exam." I started to protest, but he cut me short.

"No, William. You only get one set of teeth to last your whole lifetime," he said. Then, lowering his voice, he added, "do this for your mother."

I turned to her and saw the horrified look on her face, and nodded. Even my stupid sister kept her mouth shut for a change.

"Just let me go up to bed, okay?" I said, starting for the stairs.

"Aren't you even going to tell us what happened?" cried my mother.

"NO!" I yelled. "I told you -- I slipped and fell on the high board!"

"Maybe we should call the coach," said my mother, reaching for the phone.

"DON'T... DO... ANYTHING!" I wailed, and ran upstairs and slammed my door. I fell into bed and sobbed for what felt like an hour.

Not long afterwards, I heard a knock.

"Go away!" I mumbled into my pillow. "I said I'd see the dentist in the morning."

The door opened, and a shaft of light momentarily blinded me. My mom entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and sandwiches. Cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese... she knew those were my favorites.

Mom lay the tray on a side-table and sat down on my bed. "Wil, you need to eat something," she said soothingly.

"Can't," I said, tersely. "Mouth hurts too much."

She put her hand on my forehead, and I opened my eyes and looked up at her. She smiled back.

"Remember when the boys used to try to beat you up in elementary school?" she said, gently. "Your friend Sky always helped you stay out of trouble."

I felt like someone plunged a knife in my heart.

"Go away, Mom," I choked, rolling over so she couldn't see my tears.

"Sky called a few minutes ago, you know," she continued. "He said somebody told him you were in a fight. He just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Tell him to go FUCK HIMSELF!" I screamed, immediately regretting my outburst.

My mom was aghast. "William Gerald Larson! Don't you ever use language like that in this house!"

I rolled over, immediately apologetic. "Gosh, I'm sorry mom, really! I'm just... I'm in a lotta pain and stuff."

She nodded, regaining her composure. "I have some aspirin and water here, if you need it."

I weakly attempted to smile. "Thanks, Mom," I said. "Yeah, I think I could use some." I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

She handed me the pills and a small cup of water, and I swigged them down in one gulp.

"Call me if you need anything," she said, as she started for the door. "Dr. Morton's agreed to see you at 10AM tomorrow."

I felt around the inside of my mouth with my tongue. Shit, one of my lower front teeth really was loose, I thought. Fuck! It hurt like hell, and I still could taste a little blood.

I didn't argue this time. "Okay, Mom," I said, falling back to my pillow. "Just let me sleep 'till then."

She closed the door and left me surrounded by blackness. I stared at the ceiling and desperately tried to make sense of everything that had happened. Sky was my best friend. Then he seems to hate me and tells me I'm 'weird.' Finally, we patch things up, and we start fooling around. I give him what he practically admitted was the best orgasm of his entire life, and then he tries to knock my fucking teeth down my throat.

And now he calls my house to see how I'm feeling? Incredible, I thought, shaking my head. I sat up, reached over, and started nibbling on the sandwich, taking care to chew only on the right side of my mouth. I sipped the soup -- CHRIST, it was hot! My lip was still bleeding, dammit.

I finished the meal in silence, then turned on the radio, lay back and stared out the window. New moon out, I thought. Hardly any light out tonight. I began to drift away with the music.

The WLCY deejay talked up Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through the Grapevine," which he said just hit #1 on the charts. God, that was a great song, I thought. It had a weird arrangement -- almost mysterious and angry. I let the music wash over me like a soothing blanket. Before the song ended, I drifted away to unconsciousness.

The following morning, Dr. Morton poked a wicked-looking stainless-steel pick around in my mouth and shook his head. It was unusual for me to see him on a Saturday. In lieu of his standard-issue white lab coat, the dentist was dressed in a goofy-looking golf outfit, with a plaid jacket, short pants, and weird shoes. My dad stood by the exam door, with his arms crossed across his chest, and an expression of concern on his face.

The doctor tch-tch'd me, and turned to my father. "Well, Mr. Larson, it's a good thing you didn't let your son's tooth go another 24 hours," he said. "If infection had set in, we could've lost it for sure." The kindly white-haired man turned back to me. "You know, William, you only get one set..."

"I know, I know," I said, irritated. "One set of teeth to last a lifetime. Yeah, I know all about that." I looked over to my dad. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Not so fast," the dentist explained. "Now, your lip is already healing fine, so you won't need any stitches, and I've packed that bottom left lateral incisor with a temporary crown. You should put an ice pack on that bruise on your jaw." He put down his dental mirror on a tray and looked at me reassuringly. "This is probably a good time for me to tell you, you're a good candidate for orthodonture, William."

I rolled my eyes. "That's WIL," I muttered.

"Sorry -- Wil," he said, apologetically. The doctor turned to my dad. "Wil's got some fairly crowded teeth on the bottom, Mr. Larson, and with this injury, we can probably get your insurance to pay for some of the expense. I'd strongly suggest you consider it."

My dad nodded. "Son, you should listen to what Dr. Morton says."

I blanched. Now, on top of everything else, they want to turn me into a metal-mouth? "Jeeez, Dad," I whined. "I look stupid enough as it is! I don't wanna get braces!"

The doctor smiled and shook his head. "Not braces, Wil. Just a retainer. You'll only have to wear it at night, when you sleep. In 12 to 18 months, you'll have the best-looking mouth in school."

Tell that to Sky, I thought.

"Would the retainer give him any pain, doctor?" asked my father.

"Well, there is some minor discomfort," he nodded. "But no, it's not really painful." The doctor reached over and showed me some pictures from a color brochure. "This is what the retainer would look like, Wil. Your upper teeth are fine. This would just open up your lowers and give them a little more breathing room. I believe they'll grow in a lot straighter, without all that pressure."

At this point, I'd have agreed to anything just to get out of there. They made an appointment for me to come back after New Year's to get the permanent crown and start the measurements for the retainer. He also gave me a prescription for a bunch of pills -- yellow ones for the pain, and white antibiotics to kill any infection. After we picked up the prescription at the drug store, Dad and I rode home in an uncomfortable silence.

"I take it you still don't want to talk about it?" he asked, gently.

I stared out the windshield. "No. It's not a big deal, Dad."

"I understand," he sighed. "Is this... did this have to do with your friend Schuyler?"

"No," I lied. "He wasn't even there. It was somebody else."

Dad chuckled. "You mean, at the diving board?"

I winced. "Just drop it, okay?," I pleaded. "It's all over with now. I'm not really hurt."

Dad brought the car to a stop at the light, then turned to me.

"Wil," he began, "remember, no matter what, I'll always be your father. If you ever have a problem, you can always tell me about it."

I ached to tell him how I really felt. Tears began to well up in my eyes. No, stop it! I mentally commanded my tears to turn to ice.

"Not now," I choked, my voice cracking. I turned and pretended to look out the window to avoid letting him see my face. "Maybe... maybe another time, Dad. Lemme just go home for now."

I spent the rest of the day hold up in my room, listening to the radio and doing my homework. The mid-terms were coming up in just a few days, and everybody at school was already totally paranoid about them. I heard the phone ring down the hall, and my sister bounded down the stairs.

"I'll get it!" she yelled.

Seconds later, she called up to me from the kitchen. "WIIIIIIIIL! It's Sky! He says he wants to talk to you."

Tell him to go fuck himself, I thought. My lower lip still hurt like hell, even though I'd just taken a yellow pill an hour ago.

Sharon cracked my door open and timidly poked her head in my room. "I said it's Sky, Wil! On the phone!"

"Just tell him to go..." I caught myself. "Uh... just tell him I'm asleep."

She gave me a quizzical look. "But you're awake!" she said, with the pure logic only a 9 year-old could have.

"Make-BELIEVE I'm asleep," I said, exasperated.

"Okay!" she said, brightly, and ran down the stairs, leaving my door wide open. I tried not to listen, but she was too loud to ignore. From a distance, I dimly heard her say, "he says you have to make-believe he's asleep, Sky!" she said, laughing, then hung up the phone.

I winced and put my head down on my desk. Well, maybe that would get the message across, I thought.

An hour later, I saw Sharon again in the kitchen as I grabbed a swig of Pepsi out of the refrigerator. "Uh, Sharon," I said casually. "When you talked to Sky on the phone, did he... did he say anything?"

"No," she said, thoughtfully.

"Oh," I said, disappointed. I put the bottle back on the shelf and turned to leave.

"No, wait!" she said. "I remember now. He asked me if you were hurt, and I said you were gonna have to get braces or all your teeth would fall out!" She giggled.

I rolled my eyes. "You stupid little..." I said, taking a menacing step towards her.

She backed away and stared up at my face, taken aback at my sudden flash of anger. "I'm sorry, Wil," she said quickly. "I made that part up. I just said you had to get braces, and the doctor gave you some pain pills. That's all I said. Honest!"

I nodded and walked through the dining room. Just as I got to the stairway, she called out to me.

"Oh, and Sky said he was really sorry. He said it was all his fault. Why did he say that, Wil?"

I froze and turned around, slowly walking back to her. "Sharon," I said, leaning over to her. "Please make me a promise," I said, gently.

She nodded, her eyes wide. We usually fought so much, it was kind of a shock when we were actually civil to each other for a change.

"Promise me you won't tell mom and dad what Sky said," I begged. "Please."

She hesitated.

"You GOTTA promise, Sherrie!" I hadn't called her that in years, since the 4 Seasons' hit was on the radio.

She looked up at me and smiled. "I promise, Wil," she said, quietly.

I kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks, Sherrie. And I'm really sorry for yelling at you the other day. I'll try to make it up to you."

I wracked my brain for something I could give her. "I know -- you can bring your stupid friends over to watch 'The Monkees' tomorrow night."

Her eyes widened. We had fought about this for months. "Oh, thanks, Wil!" she squealed. "Isn't Davy Jones cute?"

Yeah, he's cute alright, I thought. "Just don't tell anybody about... you know," I said as seriously as I could.

Sharon nodded and ran back to her doll collection. I sighed. Maybe my stupid little sister was finally getting smarter as time went on, I thought.

Late Sunday afternoon, I tossed the last of my school books in a pile on my desk. If nothing else, I now felt totally prepared for all the mid-term exams this week. In fact, I thought I had a fighting chance of acing at least half of them. That'd be enough to pull my grade average up one whole point. If I could make the Honor Roll, I bet my Dad would shit a brick, I thought, laughing at the mental image.

Just then, the phone rang again. Oh, shit, I thought. Sky again.

"Wil!" my mom called from downstairs. "It's that Lannigan boy."

"RICK OR RON?" I yelled through my door.

"Who knows?" she replied, exasperated. "Just get the phone, will you, please?"

I sighed and stuck my head out my door. "Do I have to?"

My mother was all dressed up. She really looked great, even though the mink coat was starting to look a little ragged. "Yes, Wil! Your father and I have to go out," she said. "Stay here and take care of your little sister until we get back. I've left your dinner on the stove, and it'll be ready in five minutes. We'll be back at ten."

I ran downstairs, slid all the way across the dining room floor in my socks, stumbled over to the kitchen phone, flipped the receiver up in the air with one hand and caught it with the other, and still managed to avoid falling on my ass. I grinned at my mom, who stared at me open-mouthed, then laughed, shook her head, and walked out the back door.

"Hello?" I said.

"Wil! It's me, Ron," he said excitedly. "Jesus, we heard about what happened, man! Are you okay?"

Shit. Bad news travels fast, I thought. "How'd you find out about my fight with Sky, Ron?" I whispered.

Ron laughed, his goofy laugh. "I heard it from Mr. Waverly on Channel D."

I rolled my eyes. Ronnie was nuts about that TV show, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and for the last two weeks, he had settled on a career as an agent for a top secret world-wide spy organization.

"Can it, Ron!" I hissed. "Tell me who told you, asshole! And don't say 'The National Enquirer'!"

Ron immediately backtracked. "Shit -- I'm sorry, Wil," he said. "A friend of Rick's just told us he saw you comin' out of the drugstore with your Dad yesterday. He said you had a black eye and your mouth looked all puffy. I figured you had an accident or somethin'."

Or something, I thought. "It's nothing. Forget about it," I said, wearily.

"Sky did this to you?" he asked, incredulously.

"Shut up, Ron. I don't want to talk about it."

"Wil... I..." Ron sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "Wil, do you want me to come over or something?"

"No, just leave me alone, Ronnie," I sighed. "Maybe we can get together over the Christmas break. At least I won't have to go to swim practice for the next couple of weeks. They're remodeling and repainting the swimming pool for the winter."

"I should come over now," he said, insistently.

I shook my head. On the other hand, my parents were going to be out for another three hours, and...

"I can be there in five minutes," he whispered.

"You don't have to whisper, Ron."

"You can never tell," he giggled. "There are spies from THRUSH everywhere!" he said, in Maxwell Smart's voice.

I laughed. "You mean KAOS, don't you?"

"Aaaaa, THRUSH, KAOS, SPECTRE..." he said, giggling. "You seen one evil secret spy organization, you seen 'em all!" We both laughed.

"Alright, Ronnie," I said, finally playing along. "But don't get caught or killed on your way over, or the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions."

"Your telephone will self-destruct in five seconds! Good luck, Wil!" he said, slamming down the receiver.

Ten minutes later, me, Ronnie and Sharon sat around our kitchen table, eating leftover meatloaf. For a little shrimpy guy, Ron could sure cram a lot down, I thought.

"You guys have a neat house," he said, stuffing his mouth with a second helping of instant mashed potatoes.

"Not as cool as your house, Ron," I pointed out. "You've got a pool, and a huge bedroom, and all that stuff."

He looked up at me, surprised. "No, really, Wil," he said, without a trace of sarcasm. "Your house is really cool. It just feels... I dunno, real friendly. And you guys have a lotta neat books, too."

I nodded and glanced over at the dozens of bookshelves that lined the wall in the adjoining room. "Yeah, Mom and Dad have tons of this stuff," I said, sticking the serving fork into another slice of meatloaf. "My mom was an English major in college, so she still has a bunch of books on literature and stuff. Plus, we inherited some stuff from my great aunt, who was a teacher, so we wound up with three sets of encyclopedias. I read 'em a lot when I was little, and so I sort of memorized them."

"Ah, yes -- another mystery solved, Watson!" he exclaimed, in a fair impression of Basil Rathbone. "So that's why you're such a brain!" Ronnie's eyes sparkled with admiration.

"Wil's a genius!" interrupted Sharon from across the table. "A su-per gen-i-us!" My little sister giggled with laughter at her own joke.

I shot her a glance. "Just eat your dinner, Sharon!" I grumbled.

"Well, that's what mommy and daddy say," she muttered, playing with her food.

Ronnie nodded approvingly. "Are you like Albert Einstein?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "No way. I still hate math. I'm definitely no scientist," I said. "I'm better with History and English for some reason. It's weird. Some stuff just comes easily to me in school, like I don't even have to think -- like it's just there in my head already. But I have to admit, I learn a lot of stuff from books."

Ron leaned towards me and whispered quietly. "I know some stuff that you can't learn from books." He shot me a knowing glance and grinned.

Sharon looked up. "What are you boys talking about?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing, Sharon! Eat your damned food," I snapped.

She pouted and started idly poking a meatlof patty on her plate.

"I'm sorry, Sharon," I said, apologetically. "Look, it's just dumb 'boy stuff,' OK? Ronnie and I'll come down in awhile and wash the dishes. Just finish your food, and then you can watch TV."

She nodded and took a bite. Ron looked expectantly at me and I nodded up towards the stairs. We dumped our plates by the sink, then ran up to my room and closed the door.

"Wow," he said, bouncing up and down on my bed. "This is a really neat room, Wil! Where'd you get all those cool monster movie posters on the wall?" he asked.

"You need the proper atmosphere for horror. And zees is a horrible place, especially for young boys!" I said, in my best Bela Lugosi. "Cheeldren of the night... vot muzik dey make!"

He laughed uproariously and laid back on the bed. "So, Wil, do you wanna... you know... do some stuff?" he said, shyly.

"NO!" I yelled.

Ron recoiled and shrank back from me. He looked like a dog that had just been swatted by a newspaper, hard.

"Shit, Ronnie. I'm sorry," I said, sitting on the bed. Tears came to my eyes, and I looked down, embarrassed. "I'm just freaked out about what happened."

He sat closer and looked me right in the eye. "Tell me the whole story," he said, in a small voice.

I gave him all the gory details, including my workout at the gym, fat Chuckie trying to molest me, and then finally what happened with me and Sky in the whirlpool.

Ron was dumbstruck. "He hit you... for doing THAT to him?"

I nodded, as I felt a tear slide down the right side of my face. "I totally fucked everything up, Ronnie." I was trembling now. "I never should've done it. I was just so horny!" I sobbed, shaking my head. "Sky wanted it, I swear, and then he didn't want it! He acted like I was a fucking leper!"

Ron sat there, silent. "Sky's a total jerk, you know," he said, quietly.

"He is NOT!" I hissed.

He looked at me with an expression that shocked me. Ron's face burned red with anger, with an intensity that I didn't think he could possibly have.

"They all are -- Sky, Scott Michaels... they're all stupid fuckin' jocks, Wil!" He spat out the words. "They're not like us. They're assholes, Wil," he said, angrily.

I shook my head. "You don't know Sky," I said, wiping my tears away.

"No," he insisted. "YOU don't know him. Not anymore. He's one of them." Ronnie pointed over to the wall.

I glanced over at my Invasion of the Body Snatchers poster. I smiled, sadly. "You mean he's turned into a pod person?"

Ronnie nodded and slid closer to me, then gently put his arm around my shoulder. I began to cry, and he turned to hug me. I couldn't hold it back any longer. My body heaved with sobs, and he squeezed me tighter. Tears fell from my face and rolled down to his neck and shoulders. I put my arms around him and wept as if my heart was breaking. I cried for me, I cried for Sky, and I cried for anybody who knew what it was like to be in love with somebody who could never love them back. We stayed locked in an embrace for almost a minute, until my sobs finally grew quieter.

"I guess now's not a good time to ask if I could blow you, right?" he whispered.

I laughed, wiping the tears from my face. "I'm out of commission, Ronnie," I said, my voice cracking. "No way that periscope's ever going to come up tonight. I'm too out of it."

Ron grinned. "Lemme take a voyage to see what's on the bottom," he laughed. He got up and turned off the overhead light, leaving only my dim desk lamp on. Then, he slowly walked back over, imitating the 'ping' of an underwater SONAR beacon until he got back to the bed.

I giggled and weakly tried to stop him as he leaned towards me. "No, really, forget it, Ronnie," I protested, as he pulled my shirt off my head. He threw the shirt on the floor, then unzipped me and gently pulled my pants down. Suddenly, I felt something warm nuzzling my groin. I tried vainly to sit up.

"Oh, god, Ronnie..." I moaned. I needed it so bad.

"Shut up," he ordered, and gently but firmly pushed me back down on the bed. I looked up, but all I could see was the silhouette of his red-haired head bobbing up and down in the darkness. I knew he had me just where he wanted me. I felt him take all of me, right down to the hilt; how a kid as small as Ron managed to do this so effortlessly, I'll never know. I closed my eyes and surrendered completely.

I couldn't tell you how much time passed. It might have been three minutes, or even three hours. Time just didn't matter. I looked down to the side in a daze, and saw that he was as stiff as an iron rod, stroking himself back and forth in time with the pleasure he gave to me. I gently put my hand on the back of his head and stroked his red curls. Ronnie tenderly reached out and ran his finger tips across my underarms, which were moist with sweat, then massaged my chest, lightly squeezing my nipples. He picked up the pace, then slipped his hands under my buttocks, gripped tightly, and pulled me closer. That did it. I felt my balls tighten and I began bucking my hips, completely out of control.

"GOD, Ronnie!" I yelled. "Oh, shit!"

I exploded, over and over again, and I finally sank back down in a heap on the bed. It was easily most exhilarating orgasm of my young life, at least up to then.

Ron leaned over, his face shiny with saliva and goo, as he licked his lips and grinned wickedly at me.

"You actually like the taste of that stuff?" I asked, woozily.

"Well," he said, as he smacked his lips and thought for a moment, "it's not as good as the mashed potatoes."

We both laughed hysterically. Then he leaned over and got very close to me. "I... I really like you, Wil. A lot."

I nodded and put my left arm around his back. He leaned closer, and we tilted our heads together and closed our eyes. Our lips met, and I felt warm all over. A split- second later, the door flew open with a loud crash.

"WIL!" Sharon yelled, as light suddenly flooded in from the hallway. "It's Sky again, for you on the phone!"

"GODDAMIT, SHARON!" I screamed. "I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK OR ELSE I'D FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Ron literally looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sharon stared at the two of us, then slammed the door and ran down the hall. I heard the door to her room slam in the distance.

Fuck, I thought. Had she seen us? Had she seen me?

"Oh god, oh Jesus, oh god, oh GOD, Wil, I swear, I'm so sorry, I'm so fuckin' sorry!" Ron babbled endlessly, as he jumped off the bed and yanked up his pants in the darkness.

Great, I thought. Now, I'd have to kill myself for sure. I looked over at the little bottle of yellow pain pills on my night stand. 'Not to be taken with alcohol,' I read off the label. Hmmm, I figured the 15 that were left, plus a half a bottle of vodka would probably do it, I thought.

Ron's babbling snapped me out of my suicide rehearsal and back to reality. I quickly pulled up my underwear and short pants, zipped up my fly, then jumped off the bed and tried to console Ronnie, who was in near-hysterics in my chair, his head in his hands.

"Oh, SHIT, Wil! I've ruined your fuckin' life!" he wailed. "I swear, I'll never do it again! I'm so fucking sorry! What've I done?"

I tried to think as calmly as I could. "Ronnie! Listen to me! Don't panic," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. "First, just shut up and let me get the phone. The less we make of this, the less it'll affect Sharon. Let me handle it."

He nodded but continued to sob quietly as I ran out the door and took the stairs three at a time.

I took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Sky?" I said.

"Fuck! Wil, oh, shit, I'm so glad it's you!" he cried. "Listen, about Friday, I swear to god..."

"Forget it happened," I said, icily. "It's forgotten."

He paused. "I'm sorry for everything, man -- really. Is your mouth okay?"

I felt my lip. Well, at least the swelling had gone down. "Well, I no longer look like Rondo Hatton," I quipped, referring to the real-life horror actor.

"Rondo who?" he asked, perplexed.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'm okay. My teeth are fine. In fact, they'll be better than fine. They're going to make me wear a retainer."

"That's great," he replied, sounding relieved.

We were both silent for a moment.

"Is that it?" I asked, exasperated.

"Yes. No, wait -- there's one more thing," he said, hesitatingly.

Here it comes, I thought. "Sky, I told you, it's forgotten," I said. "I swear, it won't happen again. Nobody will ever find out about it."

"Mid-term exams are all next week," he blurted, a touch of desperation in his voice.

What the fuck was he talking about? "Yeah, so?" I snapped.

"Can you... you know, help me out in English?" he begged.

I started, "well, if you want a copy of my notes and stuff, I can tell you what topics are gonna be covered on Tuesday."

"That's not what I meant," Sky said, nervously. "I mean... with the test."

I felt like I was slowly turning to stone. "You mean you want to cheat off me," I said, as coldly and angrily as I could.

"Please, Wil?" he begged, a touch of desperation in his voice. "I just gotta get my grades up, or I might lose my slot on the team. This means everything to me." His voice softened. "Please. I'll do anything you want, Wil," he said. "Anything," he whispered, emphasizing the word.

My heart stopped. Did he mean...? It finally sunk in.

"I get it, Sky," I hissed. "So I'm a fag, and now you're a whore. Is that it?"

"Shut up, you asshole," he spat. "That's not what I said, and you know it."

"But that's what you meant, right?" God, I hated him so much.

"No... wait..." he cried. "I don't know what the fuck I want, Wil! Look, can't we, you know, be friends? Like before?" His tone was pleading, now. I almost heard him choke back some tears.

"Yeah. Friends to the end," I muttered.

"Great!" he said, trying desperately to sound cheerful. "So, I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Yeah." I hung up the phone and trudged back upstairs.

As it turned out, Ronnie and I had managed to dodge the bullet. Sharon hadn't seen a thing. I guess Ron's spontaneous idea of keeping the lights low in my room was smarter than I thought. I apologized to her again -- three times in one day, that was a record for me -- after she swore that all she'd seen was me crying and Ronnie putting his arm around my shoulder. At least, that's what she thought she saw.

"Ronnie's a really good friend to you," she said, wisely.

I nodded and grinned. "Yeah. I know, Sherrie. Just please do me a favor and knock on my door from now on?"

She smiled and put an imaginary 'X' across her chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die," she said, as sincerely as she could.

I gave her a hug and went back to my room. Ron was immensely relieved to find out that our little liaison was still a secret. This was a job even the 'Impossible Missions Force' couldn't have pulled off, I thought. Now, all I had to do was deal with Sky... or not deal with him, as the case may be.

I walked Ron out to the front porch and said goodnight to him.

"I meant what I said back there, Wil," he said, still sniffling.

I nodded. "I know, Ronnie. Look," I said, "maybe we should, you know, kinda cut back except for real special occasions, y' know?"

"Yeah." He looked down at his feet. "You still wanna hang out?"

I grinned. "Sure! As long as you promise to hire the infamous Ernst Stavro Blofeld to have SPECTRE terminate Scott Michaels, and then implicate Sky Jones!" I said, laughing.

"Consider it done, comrade," he said grimly. "Both of ze traitors vil be shot at dawn, mit out a blindfold or a last cigarette."

"No, leave Sky alone, Ronnie," I said, seriously.

Ron stared at me. "You still like him, after all this?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know how I feel about anything," I replied wearily. "Just go home, and avoid all enemy agents."

"Javolt, mein herr!" Ron clicked his heels together and gave me the Nazi salute, then ran off, taking a shortcut over our hedge and down the sidewalk. God, that kid was wacky, I thought, as I shut the door, shaking my head.

Chapter 8

There was a disturbing feeling of barely-controlled panic around the school on Monday, since this was the last week before Christmas vacation and "exam fever" was in the air. Jesus, I desperately needed two weeks off, I thought. Between swim practice and trying to keep my grades up, I felt like I never had any goof-off time to myself at all anymore.

Tuesday was the start of exams. I aced 2nd period Geography, because 90% of that test was just memorization, filling in a bunch of empty maps of the world. Piece of cake. I didn't have to worry about Algebra until tomorrow, which was a lucky break; that one was probably going to kill me. I missed seeing Sky at lunch, which was just as well. I still hadn't totally forgiven him for what happened last week.

Ronnie seemed quieter than usual as we walked to American History after lunch. "You're covered on the War of 1812, right, Ron?" I asked. He looked totally lost in thought. "Hey, doofus!" I said, waving my fingers in front of his face, "I said, are you cool on the War of 1812?"

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, France, Louisiana Purchase... I know the whole deal. I saw the movie," he said. "Bob Hope was in charge."

I shook my head. This kid was a total media addict. I blew through the history exam in about half an hour, including the five essay questions, then I sat there, nervously glancing around the classroom. Every set of eyes but mine was still glued to their test papers. Shit, I thought. I hated being the brain. Why did I always have to be the first idiot to turn in my test to the teacher?

I took another five minutes to re-check my answers, then idly watched the second hand slowly inch its way around the clock. Finally, I'd had enough. I stood to my feet and accidentally knocked my notebook to the floor with a loud crash.

Every eye suddenly snapped over to me, and the teacher, Mr. Harnett, looked up from his desk and said, "Quietly!"

I nodded meekly and walked the paper up to the front of the room. He nodded towards a tray on the left of his desk. Just as I turned to leave, five more kids were already out of their chairs and tossing their loose-leaf pages on top of the pile.

I rolled my eyes. "It never fails," I grumbled, as I returned to my seat.

Finally, English rolled around. I had to find a way to let Sky cheat off my paper, while at the same time not making it too obvious to anybody else. I didn't even want to tell Ronnie, because I know he'd crack a joke or otherwise give away our little scheme.

When we got to the classroom, Sky was already at his desk, watching me cautiously.

"Hey," I said, as I took my seat.

"Hey," he said, with a nod. He stared at me, giving me a look.

I sighed and nodded back. Sky looked relieved.

The teacher passed out the exam forms. Ah, nothing like the unforgettable smell of ditto paper, I thought, sniffing the stapled booklet. At least this one was readable, unlike the world maps from 2nd period. Even though there were nearly 150 questions on the test, most of them had to do with picking out obvious spelling and grammatical errors. Even better, the whole thing was multiple choice. Just circle the right answer, and move on. Piece of cake.

I shook my head and grinned. How could this be any easier? I glanced to my left, and Sky was looking at me anxiously, his pencil already in hand. I blew through the first page in less than five minutes, then held my breath to see if the coast was clear. Mrs. Kester seemed to be preoccupied, grading papers from the previous class, using a cardboard template to check the multiple-choice answers.

I idly lifted the right side of my paper up and angled it slightly towards Sky, trying to make it look like I was having trouble deciding the right answer for question 26, the last one on the page. Without even looking, I heard Sky go down the list, furiously circling all the correct answers down the page.

One down, five pages to go, I thought. I shot him a glance, and he nodded, expectantly. The rest of the class went down uneventfully. Mrs. Kester even got up at one point and left the room, leaving us on 'the honor system,' but the class remained as quiet as a mouse while she was gone. Sky got all my answers without a problem.

We were in the home stretch. I was just about to lift up the last page when I heard a familiar voice at the back of the room.

"Hold it! Mr. Jones and Mr. Larson! Put down your pencils and come with me."

We froze in our seats and slowly turned around. It was Coach Lucas, who was also the Dean of Boys.

Sky and I looked at each other with a look of total panic in our eyes. We nervously stood up.

"Bring your test papers with you," he barked. Ronnie shot me a stunned look, as I walked down the row of desks and out into the hallway.

We walked down the last mile to the school administration building in total silence until we reached Lucas' office door. He opened it and pointed towards two empty chairs in front of his desk. I looked around to see if his legendary paddle was visible, infamous for scores of school spankings. There it was, hanging by a hook on the wall, just to the left of a filing cabinet. Great, I thought. The one day I'd probably need my pain pills, and I'd left them at home.

"I'm very disappointed in you two," he said, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. "Two Tampa Central athletes, caught cheating on a mid-term exam! You know this could cost both of you your positions on your teams?"

I started to protest our innocence, but Sky interrupted me.

"It was all me, Coach," he insisted. "Wil had nothing to do with it. Leave him out of this."

The Coach laughed. It was a kindly laugh, but one that made it clear: he'd already seen it all and heard it all in this office. "Son, don't try to B.S. me," he quipped. "You can't B.S. a B.S.'er, Schuyler."

"No, really," Sky insisted. "Wil didn't know I was copying from him."

Lucas eyed me warily. "Is that your story, too, son?" he asked, gently.

I glanced over at Sky, who gave me a little nod. I knew what Sky wanted me to say. I turned back to Mr. Lucas.

"Yeah, Coach," I said, nervously. "I just... I was almost finished with the exam, and I was just checking my answers."

The Coach unfolded his arms and stared intently at both us. After an uncomfortable pause, he finally said, "okay. Let's just compare your test papers."

He sat down at his desk and scribbled some notes as he went down each page. Sky sat in silence five feet away, but refused to even look at me. My heart was in my throat. Shit, I thought. I'd almost made peace with the guy, and now this. I'd be lucky if Sky ever even spoke to me again for the rest of my life.

At last, the Coach put down his pencil. "Boys, I'm sorry. Both papers are about 90% identical. You," he said, pointing to me, "you had almost a perfect score. Sky, you were on your way to a B, at least. But your teacher said you usually made D's, if that."

"But Coach..." I started.

"No buts, William," he said, raising his hand. "I'm going to have to suspend you both. Even though you technically weren't cheating, Wil, it takes two to tango. You're in this as deep as Sky is."

Suddenly, his office door opened, and a mousy secretary stuck her head in. "Mr. Lucas, I have Schuyler Jones' father on the line."

Lucas frowned, and said, "I'll take that in just a minute." The secretary closed the door, and he turned back to us. This was looking real bad, I thought -- but then I had a brainstorm.

"Coach... what if I could prove we didn't cheat?" I asked.

Sky looked like he was going to fall out of his chair.

The Coach smiled. "Well, now, son -- I'd say that'd be a pretty good trick if you could do that," he replied.

"Let us take a make-up test," I said, picking up some steam as my idea came together. "We'll sit on opposite sides of the room. Give us different tests if you want. I swear, Sky really knows the material. He can pass, I know it."

Mr. Lucas thought for a moment. Finally, he nodded. "Okay," he said. "I think Mrs. Kester would agree to that. Alright -- Thursday, you two come in after school, and take the test right here in my office. If you both pass, then you can both stay on your teams. However, you'll still be on probation, doing clean-up duty for an hour every day after school, for the first ten days of January."

"Oh, man," started Sky, but I kicked him in the foot.

"That'd be fair, Coach," I said, quickly.

Sky nodded. We got up from our chairs.

"Schuyler," said the Coach, "I'll tell your father what happened. Wil, take this disciplinary form home to your parents to sign. I'll expect to see you both back in my office at 3:45 sharp on Thursday."

We both stammered out our thanks, and Lucas walked us back down the hall to class.

"I tried to keep you out of this, asshole!" Sky angrily whispered, as we turned the corner.

"Shut up!" I shot back. "This is gonna work. Leave it to me."

We reached the class and entered through the back door. Ron shot me a glance as I got to my seat and sat down. He poked me in the back and silently mouthed, "what happened?" I just shook my head and stared straight ahead at the front of the classroom. Coach Lucas took the teacher aside at the front doorway, said a few words I couldn't overhear, and she looked at us and nodded. Well, I thought. At least they hadn't had us shot. On second thought, maybe that would've been preferable.

A couple of minutes later, the bell sounded. Sky jumped out of his seat and sprinted towards the door. I caught him before he could get away and said, "hey, asshole! C'mere!" I dragged him over to the side by a bookcase.

"Wil, I gotta go," he began. "Melissa is in my next class, and I gotta..."

"You have to shut UP!" I said, angrily. "Listen to me, Sky. I'm going to make you pass this test, even if it fucking kills me! We're both up shit creek if either of us screws up on this one."

Sky looked exasperated. "I'm gonna fail anyway, Wil! What's the point?"

I felt like slugging him. "Because I'M not going to fail, you douche! You're gonna come over to my place tonight and tomorrow night, and I'm gonna pound your head full of English, even if it kills me."

Sky sighed and threw up his hands in defeat. "Awright, awright -- anything you say, professor. But I'm tellin' ya, it won't work."

I looked him right in the eye. "Trust me," I said, testily. "I get what I want."

Sky gave me a curious look, then said, "Okay, okay. I'll go home with you today after school. See ya." He took off through the door, not even giving me a second glance.

Why did life have to be this fucked up, I thought, shaking my head.

"I still say he's an asshole," whispered Ron to my left, almost making me jump.

"Where did YOU come from?" I yelled.

"Waitin' for you two to finish," he said, quietly.

"Well, we are now," I snapped. "C'mon, let's go to Phys Ed. At least there, we don't have a written exam," I said, breaking into a trot.

"He's an asshole!" Ron muttered, running alongside me in the crowded hallway.

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

Will this pest ever give up, I thought.

"So what happened back there in English?" he asked, panting as he tried to keep up with me.

I shook my head. "I don't even want to talk about it."

Ronnie kept after me as we ran into the locker room, which was crowded as usual. I dressed in stony silence, and did my best to ignore him -- never an easy job, even under the best of circumstances.

"Will you tell me after it's published in the National Enquirer?" he asked, angrily.

I'd had about enough. "Just shut the fuck up, Ronnie!" I snapped.

"Fine!" he yelled back, and slammed his locker door. I finished tying up my sneakers, and looked up to see that Ron had already run outside. I guess I'd really pissed him off this time, I thought. Well, good. The guy was so fucking goofy, anyway. Such a pest. Even if he did lov...

NO, I thought. I'm not a homo. Neither was Ron. I cleared my head and ran outside to join the others.

When the final bell rang, I was surprised to see Sky waiting for me back in the locker room. He sat silently on the bench as I got dressed. Ron completely ignored both of us as he pulled on his street clothes, grabbed his gym bag, and scurried away. Sky and I ran through the hall, and barely made it to the bus in time. We made idle conversation on the way to my house, never quite making eye contact.

I didn't like this. For the first time since I had known Sky, I felt totally uncomfortable even sitting next to him on the bus. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and I felt butterflies in my stomach again. If anything, Sky was looking even better as he was getting older, while I felt more like a geek than ever. The light caught his face in just the right way as we turned down my street corner, and I could see the beginnings of a blond moustache on his upper lip.

"Hey," I said, pounding him on the arm. "Are you shaving yet?"

He grinned and idly rubbed his upper lip with his index finger. "Yeah, every couple of days or so," he nodded. "My brother gave me his old safety razor last year, and said I could use it. I almost cut the shit out of myself over the weekend."

I felt a pang. I guess Sky was becoming a man, I thought. Before I knew it, the driver sounded the buzzer and hit the brakes. The pneumatic doors hissed open, and we scampered down the steps and high-tailed it to my house. After raiding the refrigerator for goodies, we camped out on the floor of my bedroom, and I pulled out all my notes on English 101 for the past four months.

Surprisingly, Sky was a pretty fast learner. We covered punctuation, conjugation, and had almost worked our way up to tenses when he glanced at the alarm clock by my bed. "Holy shit," he cried, standing up. "Listen, I gotta go, man. I promised Melissa I would see her today at 6. I told her what happened to you and me today, and she's totally pissed."

She's totally pissed, I thought to myself. "Sky -- this is a serious deal, man," I pleaded. "We got at least another three or four more hours to go!"

He nodded. "I swear, I'll be back later. How late will your folks let you stay up?"

I still had two more exams to study for, I thought. "Not past 11, for sure."

"I'll be back by 9 -- 9:30, tops!" he yelled, running out the door and down the staircase.

"You'd better, asshole!" I yelled, and heard our front door slam in the distance.

Mom made me and Sharon TV dinners. Sharon was in a better- than-normal mood, because Mom had actually let her do all the cooking -- like shoving a tin-foil box into an oven for 20 minutes was an award-winning achievement. I wolfed down the food and did my best to just tune them both out.

After dinner, I took Mom aside and gave her the disciplinary form Dean Lucas had given me. She looked a little upset, but took it better than I expected. I was lucky that Dad wouldn't be home until much later. I promised her I'd ace the make-up exam on Thursday, and that I still stood a good chance of making the Honor Roll for the first time.

I spent the next hour trying to study in my room, but all I could do was think about Sky. We were drifting apart, we were both changing, and I didn't know how to stop it. I sighed, slammed the door shut, then sat back in my chair and idly started playing with myself. God, I thought, it felt great. I hadn't done it in at least two days, and I couldn't concentrate on anything. Only one way to clear my head, I thought.

I pulled down my pants and began stroking in earnest. In seconds, it sprang up to its full length, hard as a rock and ready for action. I leaned back in the chair and let my speed increase. It felt good, but... something wasn't right. I slowed down my strokes and looked down. My pride and joy looked bigger than ever; it was so hard, it looked like it was ready to burst. I ached with desire. What could be wrong?

I was still too distracted, I thought -- still thinking about the make-up exam. I looked around for one of my Dad's old Playboys, but then I had a better idea. I'd only tried this once before, but I sure felt horny enough to try it again. I removed my shirt and pants and sat down on the bed. I took a deep breath, leaned all the way back, and let my knees roll back over my head. Almost without any effort, my mouth reached the target, and I slurped it hungrily. Oh, god, YES, I thought. That's what I needed.

I pulled my hips down closer to my face, and felt a moan starting in the back of my throat. The bedsprings squeaked noisily as I pounded my groin deeper and deeper against my face. I tried to ignore the dull pain in my lower back, as I felt the warning bells of an impending orgasm. My groans got louder, my thrusts more insistent, until finally -- yes, yes, I was almost there... here it comes...

"Hey, Wil, I'm back!" yelled Sky, who burst through my door and into my room. I let out a loud yell, fell right off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thud, sending a three- foot arc of sperm into the air. Sky laughed hysterically, and quickly slammed the door.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" I screamed. I sputtered, got back to my feet and cried, "Sky, you could at least knock on the door, asshole!"

He was practically crying with laughter. "You shoulda seen the look on your FACE!" he guffawed, sinking to his knees and pounding his fist on the ground.

"Oh, shut UP!" I hissed, grabbing my T-shirt to clean up the gooey mess. It was all over my chest, on the bedspread, and in a long straight puddle on the carpet. Ignoring his hysterical laughter, I grabbed my shorts and pulled them back up. "Cut it out, Sky," I muttered. "We gotta get back to studying for the test, goddammit!" My face burned with embarrassment.

"You looked like you were studying your DICK to me, Wil!" he laughed, and started pounding the floor again.

I was ready to knock his head off, even if he was about 25% bigger than me. "Sky, listen to me!" I snapped, angrily. "We're both in big trouble here, man. We've gotta get you totally up to speed in English, or we'll both get suspended."

He nodded and finally got up off the floor and sat down in my chair, his laughter turning to little gasps and wheezes. "You know," he said, admiringly, "if I could do that to myself, I'd probably never leave the house."

The whole situation was too stupid for us to fight about. I finally gave up trying to keep a straight face, and grinned.

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe having this thing does have its advantages." I chuckled and squeezed my shorts, revealing an large, obscene outline against the fabric.

Sky giggled.

"C'mon, man," I said, letting go of my pants and reaching for a textbook. "We still have a lot of material to cover."

"Okay, okay," he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "I'll learn English if you'll learn to start lockin' your door."

I finally started laughing, sat down on the bed, and grabbed the handbook. "Okay, you ready?" I asked, trying to stifle my own giggling. "'Intro to Tenses,'" I read.

"You still look a little 'tense' to me, Wil," he teased.

"I was, but not anymore," I said, and we both dissolved into more laughter. We stopped when my mom knocked loudly on the door.

"Boys!" she yelled.

"Yeah, Mom?" I replied, guiltily.

"I'd like to hear more studying and less goofing off in there, please! And Wil, tell Schuyler he's only got an hour before he has to leave. Both of you have an 11PM curfew on weeknights!"

"Yes, Mrs. Larson," he said, meekly.

Our studying continued without incident. Much to my surprise, Sky came back the following afternoon, just after 5:00, and we finished early, at 10PM. After I closed the last workbook, he lay on his back on my bed, with his arms folded behind his head, and he flashed me one of his million-dollar grins.

"Shit, Wil," he said. "If they'd just explained English the way you did, I could've learned this shit a long time ago."

I grinned. "Conjugate the verb 'to shit,'" I commanded.

Sky giggled. "'I shit, you shit, we shit, they all shit.'"

He ran down the entire list -- Present Perfect, Past Perfect, Future Progressive, the works. I laughed and sat down on the bed. "Well, that's a shitty way to pass, but if I were you, I'd take anything at this point," I said, grinning.

"You really think this'll work, Wil?" he said, getting serious for a moment.

I nodded. "I swear, Sky, I think you know the material about as well as I do now."

Sky sat up and looked at me thoughtfully. "You didn't have to do this, you know," he said, quietly. "You still could've gotten out of this."

I shook my head glumly. "No, I couldn't," I said. "This was the best deal we could've gotten from Mr. Lucas. Shit, I was amazed he didn't just suspend us and send us home on the spot!"

Sky's nodded, sat next to me, and looked at me right in the eye. Jesus, I never noticed how intensely blue his eyes were. They practically radiated in this light, I thought. Piercingly blue.

"I'm... I'm really sorry for punchin' you the other day," he said.

I closed my eyes at the memory and turned away. "I told you, it's already forgotten."

Sky put his arm around my shoulder. "No, it's not. It was my fault, too. I could've told you to stop, but I didn't." His eyes softened. "Part of me must've really wanted it," he said, softly.

I nodded, and I felt my eyes well up with tears.

"But part of me doesn't want it, Wil!" he continued. "We should... we should be goin' out with girls and stuff."

I winced. "Girls think I'm an idiot," I sighed. "I look like a dork."

"No, you don't!" he said. "Look over here."

He dragged me over to the mirror over my dresser drawers. I stared at the two boys reflected back to me. One had white- blond hair, blond eyebrows, blue eyes, a strong jaw, perfect teeth, and a dazzling face. The other was at least 4 inches shorter, had light brown hair, glasses, and looked like a total geek.

I shook my head. "I look like shit," I moaned.

"Not to me," he said. "You've got a good body, with wide shoulders. You're not fat. Your face isn't that bad. Look again," he said, pulling off my horn-rimmed glasses.

I leaned closer to get the image in focus, and took a good look. Maybe I wasn't so bad, I mused. I dunno if I'd use the word "cute," but I definitely wasn't ugly.

"You could start by losin' the glasses," he said. "My brother wears contacts, and I guarantee you, he's a total doofus when he wears glasses."

Hmmm. I hadn't considered that. "Aren't contact lenses expensive?" I asked.

"Hey, my Dad's an eye doctor," he reminded me. "I bet he could get you a deal."

"How much would that be?" I asked.

"I think $100 -- $150 tops," he said.

Well, my folks did say they'd reward me if I could make the honor roll. What the hell. "Alright," I said, punching him in the arm. "You've sold me. I take it you get a commission on this stuff?"

"Fat chance." Sky checked his wristwatch. "Holy shit, it's 10:30!" he said, reaching for the door. "I'll ask my dad about it the moment I get home." Sky tore off downstairs, and I went after him like a rocket, bounding down two steps at a time.

I caught up with him before he reached the porch, just as he opened the front door. My parents were sitting in the living room, engrossed in some bad Western on TV. They couldn't see us standing on the other side of the door. I stood close to him and whispered.

"Thanks, Sky," I said quietly. Our eyes were just inches apart.

"It's me who should be thanking you," he whispered. "I was such an asshole."

I felt his warm breath against my face. He smelled of peppermints, and spices, and some other sweet unidentifiable odor. He put his right hand on my shoulder and gave me a light squeeze.

A tear rolled down my right cheek. He leaned forward, and I closed my eyes and braced myself. For a moment, I felt his warm breath on my face.

"I... I gotta go, man," he said.

I looked up just as he pulled himself away and jogged down the front porch steps.

"3:45, tomorrow, in Lucas' office!" he yelled, running down the sidewalk and off in the distance.

I wiped away my tears, went back into the house, and slowly trudged up the stairs.

"I'm glad you and Schuyler were able to settle your differences," called my Dad from the living room.

"Yeah, right," I mumbled, as I turned down the hallway. I never felt more different in my life, I thought. I slammed my door and fell down on my bed and into exhausted sleep.

The make-up exam after school on Thursday started out pretty brutal. Coach Lucas made us sit on opposite sides of his office, a good 12 feet apart, and kept his eyes on both of us like a hawk. Me and Sky would have to use a radio transmitter or sign language to beat this one, I thought.

Just as on the first exam, I made it through all 150 questions in a little more than twenty minutes. I looked up, and Sky was still chewing on his pencil and staring at the first page. A cold chill shot down my spine. I went back and double-checked all my answers, and tried to mentally concentrate on each one as hard as I could.

"C'mon, Sky," I thought, trying to focus whatever mental energy I had. "Imagine you're back in my room, going over the topics with me just like we did yesterday." Lucas coughed suddenly, and Sky stifled a nervous chuckle. I looked up and he grinned at me, then went back to the page and began marking down some answers.

After another agonizing half-hour, Sky finally put down his pencil. Lucas took both of our test papers and disappeared into the other room. When the coast was clear, my friend shot me a glance. "Pssst!" he whispered. "If I pass this, I'll owe you, big-time!"

I grinned, wiggled my eyebrows, and pointed down to my groin. He rolled his eyes and pantomimed a blow-job, making a fist in front of his mouth, then poked his tongue inside his mouth and made his cheek bulge out. I felt a little tingle of excitement down below, and I giggled nervously.

Five agonizingly long minutes passed. Lucas came back into the room with a file folder, leaned against his desk, and gave us a grim look. Sky and I sat up at attention.

"Boys..." the coach said, finally grinning, "you both passed. In fact, you did better than pass. Wil, you missed just one question out of 150. You get an A+." The coach smiled broadly and gave me a nod.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"Schuyler," Lucas said, turning to my friend, who had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm afraid you didn't do quite as well."

Sky's face fell.

"You only made a B+," the coach said, trying not to laugh. "But, according to Mrs. Kester, that's the best you've done all year. That raises your quarterly grade up to a C. You both stay on your teams."

Sky and I leapt out of our chairs and let out a whoop of victory.

"Not so fast!" Lucas yelled. "There's still the little matter of detention. I want you to meet me here in my office, every day at 3:45PM, when the second semester begins on Monday the 6th. There's more than enough work to keep you two busy around the school, cleaning up the grounds and the litter around the building. You'll be on detention detail for two weeks. You miss a single day, and I'll kick your butts all the way back here to the principal's office."

We nodded meekly, and muttered our "Yes, sirs."

The coach grinned, then his tone grew more serious. "Boys, listen to me," he said. "There's just one day of school left for the year, and you two had better not screw up one bit. I've got my eye on both of you!"

Lucas looked like he meant business.

"Now, get out of here! Scram!" he yelled. "I've got better things to do than hang around with you two troublemakers." He grinned and shook his head.

We grabbed our notebooks and ran out of his office to the hallway. It was already 4:30, so the entire school was deserted. A janitor swept up the hallway just ahead of us.

"Jesus, Wil," said Sky, who almost seemed to be in a state of shock. "I was so scared I'd blown the whole test."

That's not all you could blow, I thought. "I knew you could do it, man," I said, grinning. "You're not as much of a dumb jock as you look!" I punched him playfully in the arm.

"No, I mean it, man," he said, stopping while I grabbed a sip from the water fountain. "You totally saved my ass."

"Sky," I said, wiping off my mouth on my sleeve, "you did it yourself. I just gave you the basic information, and you figured it out on your own. It's not a big deal."

He grabbed a sip from the fountain, and we continued walking out to the sidewalk. "It is to me," he argued. "I owe you big-time for this, and I know just how to pay you back. It's what I think you really need."

My heart fluttered for a moment. What was he saying? I felt a twinge between my legs.

"Melissa's got this friend," he continued. "She's really cute. Her name's Cynthia -- I think she's in your 5th period American History class," he explained.

Shit. I tried to search my memory bank for her face. Was that the Chinese girl who sat to my right? No, it must be the one with the glasses two rows behind me.

I shook my head. "Girls don't dig me," I said. I'm not even sure I dig girls, I thought.

"No, she really does!" he insisted. "She told Melissa she thought you were really cool, that you were the smartest kid in the whole class."

"I'm just a little know-it-all twerp," I muttered, as we strolled past the front of the school.

Sky stopped and wiggled his eyebrows. "She knows you're not that 'little,'" he laughed.

I shook my head in disbelief. "You didn't tell her about my..." I sighed.

He laughed, his wonderful infectious laugh. I sighed. Jesus, it was great to see Sky so happy again.

"Fuck, Wil. I think the whole school knows about you and 'little Wil,'" he said, playfully poking my crotch. "You can't keep something that big a secret for long."

I sighed. "So what do you have in mind?" I asked, nervously.

"The Freshman/Sophomore Christmas dance is next Tuesday, Christmas Eve," he said. "I'll set it all up. Me and my Dad'll pick you up in his car at 7PM, sharp, and we'll have Melissa and Cynthia with us."

I blanched. "I... I can't dance worth a shit, Sky," I stammered.

"Trust me," he laughed. "If I can learn English 101, you can fake it at the dance. C'mon, you already know all the music, Wil! Just move to the beat!" he said, snapping his fingers several times.

I'd rather beat-off, I thought.

He leaned forward and put his hand on my shoulder, affectionately. "I guarantee you'll really like Cynthia, Wil," he said. "She's really neat. Actually, I think she might be outta your league." He giggled.

I shot him a withering glance.

"I'm kidding! KIDDING!" he said, putting up his hands in mock protest.

It took him another five blocks' worth of arguing and cajoling, but Sky eventually calmed me down and got me to agree to go to the dance. We stopped off at his place to grab a Coke, and I ran the rest of the way home.

Once back in the peace and quiet of my room, I clicked on the radio and fell back on my bed. A jingle pealed out of the speaker, and the fast-talking WLCY deejay said, "and now, with the first of seven in a row, here's the biggest dance hit of the year! Tommy James and The Shondelles with... 'Mony Mony'!"

The opening drum beats pounded out of the speaker. Almost involuntarily, I started tapping my foot. After a few seconds, I started singing along with the melody, and I began to smile. Finally, I jumped off the bed, and did a pantomime of the way I thought Tommy would perform the song, watching every move of my performance in my mirror.

"I said yeah... YEAH! Yeah... YEAH! yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-YEAH...

She makes me feel... (Mony-Mony) so... (Mony-Mony) good! (Mony-Mony)"

After I bumped and grinded around the room for a couple of minutes, the song finally ended and I fell back on the bed and laughed -- really laughed -- for the first time in days. Maybe this wasn't going to be a total disaster, after all.