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 meatloaf 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 the 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.
   
 

© 2001, John Francis