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 a 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.

"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.
 
 

© 2001, John Francis