My Hero

DISCLAIMER **********

This story contains sexual acts between teenage boys. If this is not to your liking, then leave. Simple. If you are UNDER the age of consent for state / country / planet and all laws effective there, please leave now. Of course, I'm underage and I wrote it, so that's pretty odd, don't you think?

I wrote this story. I would be very appreciative if it wasn't changed in any way. You may post it to newsgroups, give it to friends, use it to line a birdcage, as long as I am accredited as the author and you do not charge for doing so. Thanks.

The story is an odd mix of fact and fiction, inasmuch as I exist, the people in this story exist (names have been changed), but these events have not taken place outside my hormone charged imagination. This is not a story about sex. It is a love story with sexual elements in it. The sex takes a while to get to, so be patient. If you are just looking for something to jerk off to, you should probably move on.

If you like this story, mail me at JDThoreau@hotmail.com. If you don't like it, mail me anyway and tell me what's wrong with it. Praise will be appreciated, flames will be ignored. Enjoy!

To Matt-For both the inspiration for this story and his constant support throughout the development of it. Thanks, bro. I love you.

I finished the second six weeks with straight-A's once again. I guess it's one of the virtues of living a happy life. My Uncle was again very proud of me, as was Mrs. Estes. I still went by and talked to her a lot. It was great having someone who knew my secret. Even Ray noticed how much happier I had become. He commented on it once.

"You seem to be a whole lot happier than you used to be. Anything you want to share?"

"It's nothing really. I don't know. I guess I'm just lucky to have so many great people in my life."

"Oh, really? Like who?"

"Well, like you, of course."

Ray looked pleasantly surprised. He gave me a warm smile and we continued the workout. The third six weeks began in early November. It brought with it an interesting addition to my English class.

The first day of the new six weeks was a prematurely chilly Monday. When second period rolled around, I got a pleasant surprise. I went to my usual seat in the back and sat down. The rest of the class was slowly rolling in when I noticed a new face in the crowd. An incredibly cute young man walked in the classroom and went to Mrs. Estes. They talked for a few moments and he handed her a piece of paper. She retrieved a pen from the clutter on her desk and signed it. She handed the slip back, then pointed to one of the few empty seats in the classroom, one row to the right and one desk up from me. The young man grabbed his backpack and made his way to it.

I couldn't keep my eyes off him as he came towards me. He was gorgeous! He had longish blond hair and piercing blue eyes. His skin was clear and slightly tanned. I couldn't tell how old he was. He had to be a junior, but he looked younger. He was only about 5'7 and looked very slim. He sat down at the desk and dropped his gear (which included a tennis racket) beside it. I love tennis players. They have great bodies. It was obvious he had just transferred into the class, but I had never seen him before. The last few people in class were walking in, and I had to cross my legs to save myself the embarrassment of a very visible erection.

I had trouble paying attention to the usually engaging class. I couldn't keep my eyes off him! He looked like a little blond angel. I thought he must have been shy, because he didn't say anything the entire period. I was going to introduce myself after class, but when the bell rang, Mrs. Estes waved me over.

When I made it to her desk, she leaned over and whispered, "I hope you didn't get a neck injury!"

I blushed. She went on. "I thought by the way you kept staring at the new guy, I was going to have to call an emergency chiropractor!"

I laughed. "So who is he?"

She glanced at the clock. "Come by after school. You are going to be late to your next class. Remember: if you see him, try not to walk into any walls."

I blushed again and left. Once in awhile, throughout the day, my horny teenage mind would flash back to his sweet cherubic face. He looked like a really sweet guy. I hoped I would be able to get to know him.

The last bell chimed and I made the familiar route to Mrs. Estes's class. When I walked in she said, "Be sure to shut the door. Wouldn't want anyone to eavesdrop."

I grabbed my usual (and quite comfortable) lavender easy chair and brought it by her desk. "So. Going to tell me who he is, or do I have to get the hose?"

She grinned. "The young man is question goes by the name Kevin. Kevin Taylor. He's 16 years old and just transferred out of Mrs. Church's class. He was bumped up to the honor's program because Mrs. Church thought he was too smart for on-level. I don't know much about him besides that. He's a very polite, and if Mrs. Church is correct, a very smart, talented, and kind young man. Oh, yes. He's also extremely handsome. But I don't think I needed to tell you that."

I broke my record for consecutive blushing in one day and said, "Wow. I hope I get to know him. He sounds...interesting."

"Hmmm...so you say. As I said, I don't know much about him, but there's always hope!"

We chatted for a bit longer about assorted things, and I eventually went home. I didn't say much to my parents that night. Of course, I never did. Sometimes I wondered if they knew about me. I never went out with girls, never really went out at all. And with my outburst over Matthew Shepard, I thought they had to be at least slightly suspicious. I went to bed early that night, as I had a workout after school with Uncle Ray the next day. I didn't want to be tired for it.

It was weird. I was having a lot of issues with Ray. I still loved him more than ever, but now that I had someone in my life who knew I was gay, I wanted to tell him. In my heart, I hoped he would act like Mrs. Estes did, but my self-doubt kept getting in the way. What if he found out and didn't take it well? What if he found out and...didn't love me anymore? I couldn't take that! That would be the worst thing that could happen to me. I thought it best to just not tell him, as much as it hurt to hide it from him.

Friday came with it's usual idle pace. That week in English we started a poetry unit that would last the entire six weeks. Poetry is one of my favorite things, so I was really excited. I never did get to talk to Kevin that week. He seemed to be a really shy person. He never spoke up in class. I wanted to introduce myself, but I would've felt awkward. I decided I should wait until he loosened up a little in class. You couldn't be in Mrs. Estes's class for long and stay shy. Thursday, Mrs. Estes had told me that in the following week we would be studying some American poetry. That meant the likes of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, and T.S. Eliot. I told her I had a compilation of Frost's poetry and she had asked me to bring it. During English on Friday, I realized I had left it in my car. After seventh period, I went out to the student parking lot and got into my car. I drove it around to the main building and parked it right next to the Theater entrance. The theater was very close to the English hallway. I kept my backpack in my car, grabbed the book, and went back inside.

I took it to her and we spent half an hour deciding which of Frost's poems she should focus on. We picked some of the classics (like The Road Not Taken) and some of his lesser knowns (like Acquainted With the Night). It was 4:45 before she made it out of there. After she had left, I was getting ready to make my own exit when I spotted Kevin walking towards me. He had his backpack around his shoulder and his tennis racket in his hand. Funny. I thought Tennis ended at 4:30 on Friday, like the other sports. As he walked past me, I glanced over at him and smiled. I was excited when he did the same. He had a beautiful smile. It made his face light up. He had straight white teeth that contrasted sharply with the golden tint of his face. He walked past me and entered the stairwell that was right beside Mrs. Estes's classroom. When he was out of sight, I leaned my back against the wall and sighed. Mmmm...I was going to have to have a fantasy about him later.

I began my journey to my car once more. I got about six feet when I heard a deep, gruff voice yell, "Hey, queer!"

Oh, shit! I turned around but there was no one behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief. The voice was coming from the stairwell. I started to walk away once more when I heard a second voice. It was Kevin's.

"What the hell do you want?"

Hmmm...interesting. I walked to the edge of the stairwell and set my book down next to the wall. I listened to the exchange and was able to identify three distinct voices. I risked a peek around the corner. I saw three people up on the landing between the two staircases. I only looked for a minute, but I was able to identify them quickly. Kevin, I knew. The other two I knew by reputation. They were Nick Hawkins and Aaron Richardson. They were seniors and looked every bit of it. Both were over six feet tall and from everyone's best approximation, were born without necks. They played football, and the popular rumor was that their performances were steroidally enhanced. Now, I'm not one to propagate a stereotype here, but they were classic jocks. They didn't have much between their block shaped heads. I didn't have to much time to think about this. This was getting interesting.

Nick was the one who was addressing Kevin. Aaron hasn't said much to him. "Yeah, I heard you were checking out the other tennis queers in the shower. Ronald Price told me so. That true, pussy-boy?"

Kevin didn't say anything. I heard footsteps. I looked around the corner again, and they had disappeared from my view. I heard Nick again, "Hey, you little fairy, I ain't through with you yet."

Aaron's grating laughter sounded through the hallway. Nick spoke again. "Now, I heard that you like to suck cock. Now is that true? Cause you sure look like a little fag to me."

This time, it was Kevin who spoke. There was anger in his voice. "Gee, Nick, I don't know. Why? Can't get any girls to go down on that little steroid-shrunk dick of yours?"

The next sounds I heard were very familiar. The sound of a fist hitting flesh. That was followed by Kevin grunting in pain and Aaron laughing. I heard Nick say, "Yeah, see how you like this, cocksucker."

Oh, my God. An image flashed in my mind. I saw Matthew Shepard's face. I couldn't believe this. Ladies and gentleman, I had a front row seat to what seemed like a hate crime. I was filled with an awesome rage. I knew I had to do something. First of all, I cleared my mind just like Uncle had taught me. It was not a good idea to run up there yelling, "Queer rage! Queer rage!" I controlled myself and quickly weighed my options. I knew I didn't have time to get help. Most everyone was gone for the day. It was up to me. I also knew that these guys were huge. This would be difficult.

I made up my mind and I silently crept up the stairs. That was no easy feat, as those stairwells conducted sound rather well. I made it to the top of the stairs and surveyed the situation. Both Aaron and Nick had their backs turned to me. Aaron was looking on, laughing as usual. Nick had Kevin up against the wall and was pounding him mercilessly. My heart went out to the small guy as the huge ox slammed into him. I was once again filled with rage. I cut off my emotions and did what I had to do.

I crept behind Aaron and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, shocked. He must have thought he was being caught in the act. He saw a significantly smaller teen instead of a teacher and relaxed. As he began to open his mouth, I struck with a light, straight punch to his larynx. You have to be careful with this move. Any more pressure than a few ounces will crush a person's throat. The blow robbed him off his voice, and he lifted his right arm, getting ready to throw a roundhouse punch. I threw my left arm up to block his punch and spun around so I was facing him on my right side. I grabbed his right wrist in my left hand and slammed my elbow into his chest, between his pecs. I then grabbed his forearm with my right hand, twisted and forced down, causing him to rise to his toes. I turned to the left, forcing his arm over my shoulder. I bent down and threw him over my shoulder, down the stairwell. No one really believes it, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall. This guy fell hard.

The commotion finally caused Nick to stop his attack on Kevin. They were no longer against the wall. A moment before, Kevin had been taking his beating while being pinned to the ascending stairway. Nick stood up from his crouch and looked at me, confused. I took advantage of his confusion and quickly closed the short distance. I brought back my right hand and struck him in the face, no doubt loosening a few teeth. I rammed my left knee into his groin and when he hunched over in pain, bounced his head off my right knee, bloodying his nose. As he bounced back up from the force of my knee, I raked my right fist down from his chest to his navel, hitting a series of pressure points all the way down. He grunted in pain and tried to take a punch. I dodged it and slammed my knee into his groan yet again. He bent down and I struck the side of his neck, knocking him out. I knew that the steroid twins would both be out for awhile, so I turned my attention to Kevin.

He was lying motionless, his upper body resting on the stairs. His eyes were open, but blood was trickling down from his face onto his shirt. From a quick once over, he appeared to have a bloody nose and a split lip. I knew he probably had other injuries in other places, but those were the only ones I could see. I walked over to him and said, "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer me, just kept staring off into space. He was breathing very rapidly. I crouched down on one knee. "Kevin! Answer me! Are you okay?"

His eyes came back into focus and he stared at me. He still didn't answer me. It was then I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from above. Oh, shit. I didn't want to have to explain this. I asked him again. "Kevin! Can you walk? We've got to go!"

He gave me a panicked look and grunted. We didn't have time for this. I grabbed his backpack and racket. I slung the pack over my shoulder and held the racket in my right hand. I was still on my adrenaline rush, so I bent down and picked him up. I placed the tennis racket in his lap and carried him down the stairs. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and balanced him on my left knee. I grabbed my book, placed it on top of his racket, and stood up. Those footsteps were dangerously close now. I expected any minute to hear a scream of shock over the two bloody, unconscious football players. I ran for the exit (yay adrenaline) and made it to my car. Luckily, it was late and there was no one outside. I balanced Kevin on one arm, and placed his racket and my book on top of my car. I then switched arms and took off his backpack. I opened the passenger door, reclined the seat, and gently placed him inside. I hurriedly grabbed all the gear, threw it in the backseat, and made my way to the driver's side. Once inside, I fumbled for my keys. I finally got the car to start and quickly drove off.

Two blocks away from the school, I think I started breathing again. Whoa. That was intense. My heart was beating as fast as the Energizer Bunny on crystal meth. I shifted my attention from the road and looked over at Kevin. He was lying on the seat, curled in the fetal position. I didn't like this. I didn't know what to do. It was just temporary shock, I hoped. I reached over and placed my hand on the back of his neck. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. I shook him slightly. I tried again. "Kevin?"

He let out a shaky breath and shuddered. Faintly, I heard two distinct words. "Thank you."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. I didn't know what to say next. I was just glad he wasn't brain dead. "So...ummm...do you have any place you have to be right now? Was anyone picking you up?"

His voice was a little louder this time. "No, I walk home."

I didn't realize it, but I had been driving towards my house. "Well, how about I help you get cleaned up?"

"Okay. I mean, thanks." He uncurled himself and sat up. When I saw his face, I was heart-broken. His face was swollen and caked with drying blood. I tried not to show my distress.

"Oh, I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name's Jeff. Jeff Black."

I held out my hand, he took it. "I know. I've seen you in English. I'm Kevin Taylor."

"I know."

We pulled into my driveway and I saw only my Mom's car. Usually at this time, my Dad was home from work and Mom was out running errands. I got out and opened the backdoor. I slung one backpack over each shoulder and grabbed the tennis racket. I walked to the other side of the car, and Kevin had opened his door. He was trying to stand. I thought he still might be too weak. "Are you sure you can walk?"

"Yeah. I think so." He got up and tried to walk. He stumbled and grabbed the open car door for support. "Ah! I think I twisted my ankle a little when that dude threw me on the stairs."

I hurried over. "Just sit down a sec. I'll be right back."

I walked to the front door, put the tennis racket in my right hand, and fished my keys out of my pocket with my left. I opened the door and yelled out, "Mom?!"

I went to my room and dropped the gear down. I called for my Mom again, but received no answer. I walked back into the living room and found a note. I quickly read it and found out my parents had gone to a friend's house for dinner. Cool. I didn't want to explain why I was bringing a bloody young man home. They got pissed off enough if I fed a stray dog.

I walked back outside. Kevin was still sitting down in the passenger seat.

"My parents aren't here. They went out to dinner. Let's try to get you inside. Stand up."

He did. "Now, wrap your right arm around my neck."

His arm wrapped around my neck and I had him lean on me for support. "I would carry you, but now that the adrenaline is gone, I don't think I could."

He laughed a bit and I started to lead him towards the house. Now I really felt bad. Here I was helping this poor guy into my house after a vicious beating, and I was liking it. I was enjoying the feel of his body against mine, the warmth of his arm around my neck. I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. We made it into the house. He was pretty messed up. "Let's go into the bathroom and get you cleaned up, okay?"

He agreed and we slowly walked down the hallway. I switched on the light with my free hand. I closed the toilet seat and had him sit down on it. After rummaging through the medicine cabinet, I emerged with some cotton balls, Band-Aids, alcohol, and Neosporin. I ran a basin of warm water, found the soap, and got some wash cloths. I then took to surveying the damage. Actually, he wasn't too bad off. He was going to be bruised and sore for awhile, but there wasn't much damage. Must've hurt like hell though. His face was caked with dried blood and his shirt got a soaking of it as well. I got down on one knee and played nurse. It can be a messy business. "Unless you want to get your shirt wet, you ought to take it off."

I didn't realize what I was saying until it was said, but my heart speeded up. I gave a quick thought to the view I was about to receive. Once again, I felt like a shit. Here was Kevin, sitting before me in pain, and all I could think of was one thing.

He obliged and removed his shirt. What can I say? It was beautiful. He was slim, but he was fit. His chest was had a slight musculature to it, and his torso was the same slightly tanned tone as the rest of his body. He had the start of a six pack and cute little nipples. I exercised a little mental control and shut off the thoughts.

He sit there silently, letting me treat him. I soaked a washcloth in warm water and wiped his chest free of a few slight traces of blood. I did the same with his neck and face. When I did that, it revealed a number of cuts on his face. I had thought all the blood was from his nose and lip. At that moment, he spoke.

"Bastard had his class ring on."

That statement got me in touch with my anger. I had blocked my emotions during the fight, but now I was free to face them. God! Those assholes! I couldn't believe it. Those two steroid-using fuckers had beaten this poor guy down for nothing. They were fucking with him and he responded. I really didn't think that Kevin was gay. It had first seemed like a hate crime, but I doubted it. I mean, he could be, but more than likely he was just the victim of a senseless beating. Senseless being a word I would ascribe to Nick Hawkins and Aaron Richardson. They just pissed me off anyway.

They had quite a reputation at school. They were as dumb as dog shit, yet they passed everything. Everyone knew they were junkies, and not just steroids. All they ever did was get drunk, get high, or play football. They were football stars so they got incredible preferential treatment. It sickened me to watch the way these two drug using morons were treated like royalty. They would strut about in their letter jackets while equally stupid girls flocked to them. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against football players. I've known quite a few football players who were nice guys and intelligent to boot. It's just that these two pissed me off. Their arrogance sickened me. They thought they could get away with anything. To tell you the truth, I enjoyed showing them that they couldn't just beat anyone they wanted to. I'm slightly ashamed, but it's true. It made me sick to do so, but it was also slightly satisfying.

I don't think Kevin saw my anger. He was probably too busy feeling like a truck hit him. I finished wiping all the blood off his face and soaked some cotton balls in alcohol. I warned him to brace himself and swabbed every cut. After I was through with that, I applied Neosporin to some Band-Aids and placed them over the cuts. When I was done, he didn't look half bad. The swelling would no doubt reduce soon, and by Monday, the only thing left would be a few bruises and some bad memories. I stood up. "There we go. All done."

He hesitantly touched his face. "Well, I feel better. How do I look?"

"Not too bad, considering what was thrown at you. Here," I removed a mirror from a drawer in the vanity and handed it to him. I looked at his bloodied shirt on the bathroom floor. "I'll go and see if I can find you a shirt to wear."

I put all of the first-aid supplies away and went to my room. I rooted in my closet for a couple of minutes. I was a couple of inches taller than him, so I tried to find something a little small for me. While I searched, I thought about what I was doing. Hell, I was attracted to the guy. That wasn't a good thing. He was hurt, he was vulnerable. I had to make sure I didn't unconsciously make a pass at him. I told myself, you just came along at the right time. You helped somebody out who was in trouble. That's all. He's probably straight anyway. Just be a friend. I could deal with that.

I found a cool Mossimo shirt I had outgrown and took it to the bathroom. Kevin was still sitting on the closed toilet, but he didn't look well. He was staring into the mirror and I thought he might be crying. He heard me walking in and quickly put the mirror down. I walked over to him and handed him the shirt. He started to slip it on. What if he had been crying? "Are you okay, Kevin?"

He finished putting on the shirt. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I decided to let it drop. "Okay, do you think can walk? I could get you some ice for your ankle."

"No, thanks. I think I can."

He stood up, unsteadily at first, then took a tentative step. His ankle seemed to be doing fine. He smiled at me. I said, "Come on into the living room. Then I can take you home if you want." I looked at his shirt again. "I would offer to wash it, but I don't know how to do laundry."

"No problem, I'll just take it home with me and wash it there."

We were halfway to the living room when Kevin took a misstep and almost fell. I quickly grabbed him and held him up. He shouted in frustration. "Shit!"

"Don't worry about it. Let me help you."

We made it to the couch and I helped him down. "Here. Sit down. I'll go get you some ice for your ankle."

I went into the kitchen and threw some ice into a Ziplock bag. I returned with it and kneeled down in front of the sofa. I removed his right Airwalk tennis shoe and sock and placed the bag against his swollen skin. He shied away from the sudden chill and then slowly got used to it. He took the bag from me and held it himself. "Ah. That feels better. Thanks."

I sat down on the sofa beside him. "No worries, man. My pleasure."

He carefully sat back on the sofa and brought his right foot into his lap. He held the icepack steady and sighed. "Oh, that's much better."

I smiled at him. "Glad to hear it."

"Hey, man. I didn't really get a chance to thank you. What you did for me, that was beyond anything. I can't thank you enough. You rescued me from those guys, then brought me here and fixed me up. Like I said, can't thank you enough. I wish there was something I could do."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I was happy to help. Damn. Those guys were pretty huge, huh?"

"Shit, tell me about it."

"Do you know them? Why were they messing with you? I heard what they said to you."

He was silent for a moment. "No, I don't really know them. I've seen them around before in Tennis. They have a couple of friends who play, I think. I guess I was just unlucky. Bad timing. I met them in the hallway, they started talking smack. Pissed me off, so I responded. I proceed to get the shit beat out of me. Enter my hero, the mysterious Jeff Black. You know the rest."

I was embarrassed by his praise. "Hey. Anyone else would have done the same thing. I didn't do anything special."

He sat up a little. "Hey! The fuck you didn't. Don't treat it like that! You risked your neck for someone you don't even really know. Not a whole lot of people would have done something like that. It was an amazing thing and I owe you big. You must be a really great guy to do something like that."

I turned at least three different shades of red. This guy was so sweet! "Okay. Whatever." I looked down at his foot. The swelling had gone down. "You're looking okay now. Can I give you a ride home?"

He started to get up. "Yeah, good idea. I don't want to impose."

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I just thought you might need to be home by now."

"Well, not really. I don't think my parents would care too much. I just don't want to be a bother. I mean, of course, any more of a bother."

"Not at all! Want to stick around awhile? My parents won't be home until later tonight. I have nothing to do."

"Well, if you are sure I wouldn't be an inconvenience."

"Stop that!"

We spent the next two hours watching TV and talking. It's amazing all that we had in common. We liked the same books, the same movies, the same music. He even liked poetry as much as I did. Eventually, we got to talking about our families. It seemed that he didn't get along with his parents too well, either.

"Well, my parents and I pretty much ignore each other. We lead separate lives. We've never really been very close. My Dad works a lot, my Mom spends most of her time in her room. I'm only child, so I've always just kept to myself. I was never a social person. I'm an introvert, I guess."

We did have a lot in common. As we continued talking, I realized that I was opening myself up to him with incredible ease. The only other person with which I had shared a similar rapport was Mrs. Estes. I found myself telling him about my parents, my Uncle, my training. I was telling him everything about me. Well, almost everything. There was one thing I kept under my hat. I don't know why. I was just afraid to tell him. He seemed like a cool guy, but you never know.

I also found out a great deal about him. Besides the stuff about his family, he told me about other stuff in his life. He told me how he started tennis his freshman year, about transferring into some AP classes this year, and eventually just about life in general. In the middle of a sentence, I looked at my watch and noticed it was getting close to 7:30. I stopped what I was saying and said, "Whoa. It's nearly 7:30."

"Really? God, it seems like we've only been talking for a few minutes."

"Yeah." I noticed my stomach was growling. "Say, want to order a pizza?"

"Sure, but only if you'll let me pay. It's the least I can do," he said with a grin.

I agreed and went to find some pizza coupons. We eventually settled on Papa John's. I dialed the number and ordered two medium pizzas, one with cheese and the other with pepperoni. The guy on the phone said it would be about 45 minutes. I hung up the phone.

After I did so, I realized that Kevin's parents had no idea where he was. They could be worried. "Don't you think you should let your parents know where you are?"

He reply was swift. "No, man. I told you. They wouldn't care anyway. They're not worried. If I did call, they would probably just use it as a reason to get pissed off at me. That's what they're like."

"I don't know, Kevin. What if they have called the police or something? You never know. Don't you think you should just give them a quick call?"

He sighed. "Okay, okay. If it will make you feel better."

I handed him the telephone and he punched some numbers. A few seconds later I heard him say, "Hey, Dad? It's me, Kevin. I'm just calling to tell you that I'm over my friend Jeff's house." He looked at me. "I didn't want you to worry."

Call me silly, but it warmed my heart to hear him call me a friend. He listened for a moment, then he said, "Oh....ummm....well, I kind of got into a fight today and Jeff intervened. Then we went to his house so I could get cleaned up."

I noticed his fingers start to wrap around the phone cord. He played with it for a moment and said, "I don't know, these guys just came out of nowhere and attacked me. That's all...Well, no. I didn't have time to do anything."

His voice got hard. "Listen! It's not my fault! There was nothing I could have done. They jumped me and started pounding on me. What should I have done?"

This went on for another minute or so. Kevin was yelling into the phone and I could hear someone yelling back, even though I was a few feet from the receiver. His voice rose even louder. "Fine, fine! Believe what you want! I'm sure you could have kicked their asses! I'll see you later!" He slammed the phone down and held it in his lap, breathing heavily.

I sat there, not knowing what to say. Finally he set the phone aside and I saw a tear fall from his cheek. I reacted without thinking, and scooted closer to him. I put my arm around him and he didn't move away. I finally pulled him close to me and wrapped both my arms around him. He fell into me and, without thought to typical male stereotypes, I held him while he sobbed into my shoulder.