Chapter 18

Sky and I were together in the shower at school, alone. Dense clouds of steam filled the tiled room, but I could still see him standing next to me. As the water cascaded over both of us, I looked down his muscular back, down the deep ridge leading to his powerful buttocks. His butt was so white in contrast to his tanned body, it almost looked like he was wearing white shorts.

The water spray felt warm and comforting, and the soap was in my hand. Without warning, Sky turned around. He had a raging erection. He playfully pulled it down, and let it slap back up to his firm belly. I stared up at him, shocked. He had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. Let's do it, he seemed to say. Nobody will see us.

I shook my head. It's too dangerous. Against my will, I felt my groin surge, and my penis began pulsing upward, in time with my heartbeat. I stared at his body. Rivulets of water trickled down his muscular chest, onto his chiseled stomach and then to his groin below. I ached with desire. In seconds, my arousal was as rigid as steel.

Sky reached out and pulled me close, then kissed me, as the shower water cascaded over our heads. Suddenly, a disembodied voice echoed through the shower.

"...And if you're the 13th caller, you can win one hundred and thirty-eight dollars, cash, in our WLCY 138 contest! All you need is the phrase that pays! Call now!"

I sat up in bed. It was morning, sometime in mid-March, and my radio was blaring.

"FUCK!" I said out loud.

Wait a minute -- I knew the phrase. It was "WLCY -- great music for Great Tampa Bay." I pulled on my shorts and raced out to the hallway and frantically dialed the number.

"C'mon, pick up!" I muttered to the phone. "Pick it up!" $138 was a lot of money in 1969.

About 20 rings later, a deep voice answered the line. "Sorry, you're caller 11!" He immediately hung up.

"DAMN! There's no goddamned way these contests are legit," I said out loud. "They've gotta be rigged."

I staggered back to my bedroom and fell back into bed, trying to remember the dream I'd just had about Sky. The new hit "Dizzy" was playing out of the speaker.

"And that was Tommy Roe, with 'Dizzy,' on radio 138. This is Pepper Lipsync, at five minutes past the big boss hour, and we've got caller number thirteen on the line."

What a lame name, I thought. These radio guys are so hokey. They're just a fast-talking, deep voice and no brain. Hmmm. RJ had told me a couple of months ago I had a deep voice. Maybe I could be on the radio someday.

"The phrase that pays!" I said out loud, mimicking the voice on the radio. Not bad, I thought.

"That's it! You've WON!" yelled the announcer. The caller, a girl, squealed at the top of her lungs.

I pulled the pillow over my face. "Just shut up and play some music, please," I muttered.

"Now, here's an oldie but goodie from the past!" the DJ yelled, as "Come Go with Me" came out of the speaker. "A doo-wop classic, from nineteen hundred and fifty seven... here's The Dell Vikings!"

I sang a few lines with the radio. Man, that was a great song. My parents used to listen to that one all the time. They ought to have radio stations that played nothing but great old rock songs from the past, I thought. Some of this new shit just sucks.

With great reluctance, I forced myself to roll over, get out of bed, and get ready for school.

Today was D-Day, March 12th. I was in the lunchroom at school, and stared down at the envelope in my hand, too terrified to open it. The 3rd quarter report card inside would determine my fate for the next year. My parents had promised me that if I could just keep my grades up, it would cinch the deal for me to go back to the LaFontaine Institute for 10th grade. My heart pounded.

I glanced around the cafeteria. All the teenage faces I saw looked so... so normal, so happy. The atmosphere at the private school seemed a lot more sedate, even dull by comparison. But I felt so out-of-place here sometimes. Maybe being with other brainy kids was the fate God had meant for me.

Shit. Half the time, I wasn't sure if there was even a God at all. It'd been in all the papers lately -- "Is God Dead?" and all that crap, on magazine covers. Maybe they were right. The rest of the time, I convinced myself that God did exist, but all he did was torment us for his own amusement. The stupid asshole.

I shook my head. Either way, I thought, we were totally fucked, on a cosmic level. I looked at the envelope again, closed my eyes, held my breath, ripped open the flap, and yanked out the piece of paper. I opened my eyes, and my heart stopped. I had pulled it off: straight A's. For the first time in my life, I felt faint.

"Hey, stranger!" said a feminine voice to my right. I looked up, and it was Ginny, from the school newspaper. She and I had gone out a couple of times over the last few weeks, always with Sky and Melissa in tow. But with those two temporarily split up, I hadn't even thought to call her.

"Hi, Ginny," I said, trying to casually cover up my report card with my right hand. "How are things at the 'Tampa Central Observer'?"

"All the news that fits," she sighed, sitting down next to me. "You gonna eat that roll?

I pushed it towards her. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," she said, eating it hungrily. "I'm on a diet. I'm trying to only eat two meals a day."

"You?" I said. "You look fine to me." More than fine, actually. Though a lot of people looked at Ginny like she was just a bookworm, I could see she had more than just a warm personality. Although we had yet to see each other naked -- and probably never would, I thought.

"I don't get enough exercise," she said. "Jocks like you and Sky don't have that problem. How's he been, by the way? I haven't seen either of you for a couple of weeks."

I felt embarrassed. I silently cursed myself for not calling her.

"I... I guess he's okay, Ginny," I said. "I've been... kinda busy myself."

I tried desperately to think of an excuse. "Uh, there's this guy I know who's putting together a rock band over in St. Petersburg. He's asked me to play keyboards for him, and I've... been occupied with that." That was at least sort of true, in a way.

"Really?" she said. "I knew you were in the chorus, but I didn't know you wanted to be a rock star." She looked at me carefully. "I think there's a lot going on with you under the surface, Wil. You keep a lot inside, don't you?"

My face flushed and I looked away. Had she guessed that I was completely infatuated with Sky? Before I could answer, I heard a booming voice from in front of us.

"HEY! Guess who almost made the Honor Roll!"

I looked up and it was Sky and Melissa. Both had their arms around each other, and Sky looked as happy as I'd ever seen him. He hopped over the back of the chair in front of me and plopped down on the seat, waving a printed form in his hand.

"Take a look at this, man -- 4 B's, two A's, and a C!" Sky exclaimed. "I've never made an 'A' before in my life, and I actually got two in the same quarter. My dad is gonna have a heart attack!"

We both laughed. "Hey, congratulations!" I said. "Maybe now your dad will get you that GTO for your birthday."

"It's a cinch!" Sky said, happily. He grinned and put his hand on my forearm and gently squeezed it. "It's because of you, Wil," he said. "You've been helpin' me on and off with my homework and stuff, and makin' me prepare for tests. That's what really put me over the edge."

His hand felt warm to my touch. I felt my pulse increase. I pulled my arm away and glanced towards Ginny, who was eyeing me suspiciously.

"So how'd you do, Wil?" he asked, excitedly. "Compared to us mere mortals, that is." Sky and Melissa both laughed.

"I did... okay, I guess," I muttered, looking down and just praying that he and his girlfriend would leave me in peace.

"Lemme see!" he said.

Before I could stop him, he snatched the paper out from under my closed hand. I braced myself.

"HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed. At least 20 nearby students in the lunchroom stopped eating and looked over to see what was happening. "You got straight 'A's'! Un-fuckin'-believable, man!"

I grinned. "Yeah," I said, quietly. "I guess I did."

"That's wonderful, Wil!" gushed Ginny, who hugged me and kissed my cheek. "I think out of the 3200 students here, less than 1% ever get straight 'A's'. Looks like you'll be back on the front page of my paper again this week."

"This is a cause for celebration," said Sky. "Let's go out this Friday night, the four of us. You up for it, Wil?"

I glanced over at Ginny. She smiled at me and nodded, expectantly.

"What the hell," I said, grinning. "Where do you guys wanna go?"

Ginny suggested Goodbye Columbus, which was playing at one of the local theaters. I knew it was rated 'R,' but Sky's father would be driving, and he didn't mind the subject matter. I'd already read the book, and thought it was pretty wild stuff. My folks were pretty liberal about these things; I think they'd probably let me see anything up to but not including hardcore porno, as if any theater in Tampa would ever show something like that.

"This is so great, Wil!" said Sky, grinning from ear to ear. "It looks to me like each of us has rubbed off a little on the other."

That's a weird way to put it, I thought. "What do you mean?" I asked.

He laughed. "Y' know how I always said you and me were like the brains and the brawn?"

I nodded.

"Well, it seems like you're getting some more brawn..." he started.

"...and Sky's finally getting some more brains," finished Melissa. She laughed and kissed him on the lips. Sky wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, deeply.

My face reddened and I forced myself to smile. Ginny glanced over at me, and I thought I saw concern in her eyes. Then it passed, and she smiled, reached over, and gently squeezed my hand.

Later on at home, my folks went into orbit when they saw my grades. "This is wonderful, Wil," said my mother. "I only made straight-A's once in my entire academic career, and never when I was as young as you are."

"We're really proud of you, son," said my father, beaming.

I nodded. "Does this... does this mean now I can go back to LaFontaine?" I asked.

"Well," said my Dad. "Let's not be too hasty."

My face fell. But they had promised...

"Oh, you mean for next year!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I thought you were asking if we could transfer you over next week!"

I laughed with relief. "No," I said, shaking my head. "I'll stay at Tampa Central for the rest of the school year. We've only got three more months of school left anyway."

My mother frowned. "I thought you were happy in public school, Wil," she said. "You seemed to be making all kinds of new friends, and you did so well on the swim team."

I thought for a moment. She was right. I had been pretty miserable for the last seven months, but that was only because I felt like I wasn't where I thought I belonged. Maybe I was looking at things the wrong way. Maybe going to regular high school really wasn't so bad, after all.

"Tell you what, Wil," said my dad, looking at my report card again. "If by July you still want to go back to LaFontaine, we'll do it. We'll leave it up to you. And that's a promise."

"Thanks, Dad," I said.

Just then, the upstairs phone rang.

"WIL!" yelled a voice from upstairs.

I looked over at the staircase, and there was my kid sister Sharon, holding a Barbie doll in one arm, and Samantha the cat in the other. The cat looked bedraggled, like it'd rather be anywhere else.

"It's Sky!" she yelled. "For you!"

I dashed up the stairs and grabbed the hallway phone.

"Hey, Sky!" I said, excitedly. "Have I got some news for you!"

"Me, too," he said, dully. I knew immediately something was wrong. He sounded like somebody had totally let the wind out of his sails.

"What's up?" I said, concerned. "Your folks must be really excited about your grades."

"Oh, yeah -- they are. Things are great," he said, sarcastically.

I was puzzled. "Then what's the problem?" I asked.

Sky sighed. "It's Melissa," he mumbled. "She's pissed-off at me again. I don't think we'll be able to go out Friday night. Sorry, Wil."

Shit. That meant I'd have to call up Ginny and cancel. Technically, I could still take her by myself, but I felt a lot more comfortable going along with Sky. Greater strength in numbers, I thought.

"That's okay, Sky," I said. "Maybe we can, I dunno... hang out or something."

"Yeah," he said. "See ya tomorrow in school."

We both hung up the phone.

"How's Schuyler?" called up my mom.

"Huh?" I said. "He's fine, Mom. He almost made the honor roll this quarter."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "That's wonderful! I bet Sky and his parents are thrilled."

"Yeah," I said, walking into my room and closing the door. Real thrilled.

Friday at noon, I was having lunch with Sky at the cafeteria. Baked lasagna and green beans -- not one of my favorites -- but at least the brownie dessert was edible. I was trying to keep up Sky's spirits. He was normally such a happy-go-lucky person. I was really troubled to see him so down.

"Hey, Larson!" I heard from behind me. I turned, and it was Mark, one of my friends from the swim team. I hadn't seen him that often since the season ended a few weeks ago.

"You doin' anything tomorrow afternoon?" he asked. "Barry's got his family's speedboat for the whole day, and we're gonna go skiing around St. Pete Beach."

"Sounds cool," I said. I glanced over at Sky. He seemed totally preoccupied, almost like he wasn't there. "Sky, you interested in going skiing with us?" I asked.

He looked up. "Huh? Oh, yeah... maybe."

Mark nodded. He had met Sky through me a couple of times before.

"You two guys are welcome to come along," he said, grinning. "Be at my place by 9:30AM. And bring some food and stuff!" he called running down the aisle.

"Who gives a shit?" muttered Sky, as he ate another bite of lasagna.

"C'mon, man," I said. "It'll be fun. Maybe it'll get your mind off..."

He shot me a glance.

I didn't finish the sentence. This wasn't like Sky. He'd been a lot moodier lately than I'd seen him in the past.

"Alright, I'll go," he said, finally. "But see if you can bring some beer. I think I need to get really wasted."

I nodded. If anything would put Sky in a better mood, I was all for it.

Saturday was a perfect early Spring day. "Summer-like weather" was how the local TV meteorologist called it. The sun was blazing and Tampa Bay was choppy, but manageable. Mark's speedboat wasn't huge, but it was surprisingly powerful: it had a giant 200-horsepower Johnson motor mounted on the back, and the boat was still big enough that the five of us could actually hang out without stumbling over each other.

Mark and Barry manned the rudder, since they had a lot more boating experience than any of us, except for Sky, who had piloted a bunch of boats that his father had owned over the years. In addition to the four of us, Scotty, a husky junior Sky knew from the football team, was along for the ride as well.

We had a blast and a half all morning. We each took turns racing and skiing all over the bay, from Gulfport to St. Pete, and even as far north as Treasure Island. I'd almost taken a spill when they took one turn a little too sharply around Bay Vista Park, but I caught myself just in time and narrowly avoided skiing into the remnants of an old dock. Scotty had never skied before, and he was the brunt of a lot of jokes and laughter, since he never seemed to be able to stay up for more than about ten seconds at a time. "I guess I'm better at hangin' out than I am skiing," he laughed.

During lunch, Sky started digging through one of the coolers. "Hey," he said, "I thought there was gonna be beer."

I grinned and winked. "Yeah, yeah, that was the deal," I said. "Over here." I opened up the second cooler, pulled out an inner layer of white Styrofoam hidden under the ice, and revealed a six-pack of Michelob. "Voila!"

"Cool, Larson!" said Mark, who reached past me to grab a can. "Definitely a man of class."

I hoped my parents wouldn't notice I had snagged a 6-pack out of the case from the utility room in our house.

"Thanks, Wil," said Sky, sipping slowly.

"Just one per person, guys," I cautioned. "I don't want anybody to get completely tanked out here. We could really get in trouble, y' know?"

The five of us chowed down on our sandwiches and finished off all the Michelob. I had tuna fish -- one of the few kinds of fish I could stand -- and pretended to drink my beer, but wound up surreptitiously dumping most of it over the side. I still couldn't stand the taste of the stuff, but I didn't want to be left out of the group.

"Who's up next?" yelled Barry, revving the motor.

Sky poked me in the ribs. "How 'bout you and me," he grinned. "Let's show these losers how it's done."

I laughed. Sky and I had water-skied for years during summer vacation, and we'd always tried to out-maneuver the other in daredevil tactics. I could probably beat him in terms of overall skill, but Sky was always a little more adventurous than me, and he often pulled off his stunts better than either of us expected. But sometimes he scared me with the chances he took.

We jumped overboard, while Barry set up the tow lines and Mark gunned the engine. I swam out behind the boat and slipped on my skis, and Sky did the same.

"You ready?" yelled Barry.

We got into position and gave the nod, and the boat took off with a jerk. In seconds, we were zipping along at about 20 knots.

The Bay was a lot rougher than it had been earlier that morning. My skis bounced hard over the surf, and the spray peppered my body like little BB's. There was a loud whoop from my right, and I glanced over at Sky, who held on to the tow rope with one hand and gave me the finger with the other. I grinned and shook my head. Sky looked fantastic. His blond hair whipped back in the wind, and I could see every muscle straining in his tanned arms and chest as we flew across the water.

After about five minutes, the boat made a long, meandering turn as we edged out into Tierra Verde Harbor.

"What's the matter?" yelled Sky to the guys in the boat. "Are you a buncha wussies? Come on, put this fuckin' thing in gear!"

"I gotta slow down," yelled back Mark. "Too many other boats around."

"WUSSY!" yelled Sky.

Suddenly, we lurched and headed back out to open sea. The boat picked up speed. This was more like it, I thought.

"Hey!" I yelled at Sky. "Try this, big-shot!" I lifted one foot out to the side and effortlessly skied on one foot. It's a lot harder than it looks, let me tell you. Sky grinned and lifted his ski up, then dropped it down slightly and let the tip drag into the water, sending a geyser of water behind us. I laughed. He always liked to one-up me.

The boat sped faster. The wind ripped past my ears, roaring so loud, I could barely hear a thing. We must be going at least 30, 35 knots by now, I thought. The water surface below me was a blur. I looked up and saw a warning buoy up ahead.

"Hey!" I yelled up at Mark. "We're going past the boundary marker!" They didn't seem to hear me. Seconds later, I heard a metallic thud to my right and a loud splash. I turned and saw a smaller buoy overturned in the water behind us, then right itself back up again.

Sky was gone. His tow line handle dragged in the water next to me, flopping back and forth in the waves.

"SHIT!" I screamed. "STOP THE BOAT!"

Mark heard me that time and cut the power immediately. I slipped out of my skis and swam back to the buoy at top speed. Fuck, I thought, holding on to a rusted metal bar on the side. He's gotta be here somewhere. I paddled off to the left where I thought I saw some movement, and found one of his skis floating on the surface. But I couldn't see Sky anywhere.

I began to panic. If my friend was unconscious and underwater, he could drown in only a couple of minutes. I held my breath and went under and opened my eyes. The salt water stung like hell. After thirty seconds, I realized it was too deep and murky for me to see anything. I popped back up to the surface and spun around. Mark was moving the speedboat slowly forward.

"You find him yet?" he yelled, concerned. The others were frantically looking in every direction.

"No!" I yelled. "Be careful with the boat! He could be floating around somewhere!"

Mark nodded and I turned back around in the water. I tried desperately to think this out logically. We'd been coming from the south, so Sky must've clipped the buoy from this direction. I swam off as fast as I could to the right, cursing my bad eyesight; I'd left my contacts at home, knowing I'd never be able to wear them in the water.

Time was running out. Even though I still hadn't made my mind up about God, I started to pray.

"Listen, whoever you are," I said out loud, my eyes filling with tears. "Please don't let my friend die. I swear, I'll make it up to you someday. Please, God. And I'm sorry about calling you a stupid asshole in school the other day."

As if to answer my prayers, about fifty feet away, I finally found him. He was face down in the water, and there was a reddish slick on the surface. I tore over as fast as I could.

"Sky!" I choked. "Oh, FUCK!" I immediately flipped him over on his back and hoped that he was still breathing. "Over here!" I screamed. "He's bleeding! Hurry up!"

I started pulling on Sky's chin with my right arm, keeping his face above water, and using my left to paddle. Mark carefully pulled the boat up beside us, and the other two helped me drag Sky's lifeless body up onto the deck.

"Shit!" cried Barry. "We gotta call the Coast Guard!"

"There's no room for a radio in here, schmuck!" yelled Mark, angrily. "Let's just get back to the dock, fast! They've got an emergency medical guy there."

Sky looked so helpless lying on the floor of the boat, unmoving. His eyes were closed, and there was a large bruise on his forehead. I dropped to my knees and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"Oh, FUCK!" I cried. "We gotta give him CPR!"

I knew Sky's lungs were probably blocked. I turned him over onto his chest and started pushing on his back as hard as I could. Nothing happened. I pulled his waist up and squeezed low, under his stomach. I felt a spasm, and he vomited what looked like at least a gallon of seawater.

"Holy shit," said Scotty, dazedly. "I think I'm gonna puke."

"Give me a hand!" I yelled.

We turned Sky over again on his back, and I grabbed his head. I sucked in as much breath as I could, held his nose, and put my mouth on his, then breathed out slowly, just as they'd taught us in the Red Cross class last year. I couldn't find a pulse. Sky still wouldn't breathe. I counted to ten, put my hand on his chest and gave him a dozen pushes. I waited ten seconds again, pushed the air into his lungs again, and repeated the chest compressions.

Mark, Barry, and Scotty stared at me, their faces ashen. I began to panic. I forced myself to stay calm, trying desperately to remember all the lessons in that two-day class. I cursed myself for not paying closer attention during the lectures. I leaned over and continued to breathe air into his lungs.

"Does he know what he's doin'?" asked Scotty, standing behind me.

"Shut up, dickless," snapped Mark. "Leave Wil alone."

At last, after almost a minute, Sky choked and vomited again, a mixture of bile and sea water.

"Shit," he moaned, coughing and spitting. "What happened?"

I almost burst into tears. "Thank God!" I cried, exhaustedly. "We thought you were dead!"

"Fuck, man," said Mark, almost in shock. "You scared the livin' shit out of us, Sky. Oh, god -- look at your leg!"

I looked down. There was a huge gash on his left knee, and blood was pouring out all over the boat.

"It hurts like shit!" Sky wailed.

"Now I know I'm gonna puke," moaned Scotty, who was definitely looking pretty green.

"Get us back to the dock, Mark," I said, still shaking. "Right, now. And take it easy. Let's not have a fucking wreck on the way, OK?"

Mark nodded and throttled the boat up to speed. Barry held a couple of paper towels on Sky's leg, and I sat on the deck, with Sky's head in my lap. In ten minutes, we were back at the Gulfport dock. The emergency medical guy looked up at us and winced when we carried the wounded Sky over to his booth.

"I guess I could take care of that leg if you're really desperate," he said, "but you'd really be better off taking him to the Pinellas Park Hospital. It's less than two miles away."

We drove him the ten blocks from the Marina over to the hospital, using Scotty's dilapidated Volkswagen van. Once we made it to the emergency room, I immediately called Sky's parents and gave them the whole story, leaving out the part about the beer.

"You did the right thing, Wil," said Dr. Jones on the phone. "I can't thank you enough for looking after my son."

Shit, I thought. It was my fault he was here at all. I was the one who'd dragged him out today in the first place.

"I'm really sorry this happened, Dr. Jones," I said, sincerely. "It was my fault. Sky only came with us today because of me."

"No, no," he said. "These things happen. Give us half an hour, and we'll meet you there at the hospital."

By 4:00PM, Sky was all stitched up, and he had a large, cartoon-sized bandage on his left leg. Dr. Jones and I helped Sky into the car, on crutches. My friend was a little groggy from the anesthetic, but still pissed-off.

"My leg still hurts like shit," he moaned.

"Calm down, son," said his father. "We'll get you home and put you on that pain medication the doctor gave you."

I opened the back door to get in.

"Thank you again, Wil," said his mother. "The other boys told us how you saved Sky's life. This could've been a lot worse if you hadn't been there. These water accidents are always terrible."

Water accidents. Jesus! I had completely forgotten Pete's warning from a week earlier: "There's danger over water." This must've been what he meant. But he was wrong -- I had managed to save Sky, after all. There was no big tragedy. Yeah, there was a little bump on his head, and he'd have a scar on his leg, but other than that, he was going to be fine.

I felt someone kiss my cheek. I looked up, and it was Carol, Sky's older sister.

"Thanks, Wil," she said, softly. "I never told you how much of a good influence you've been to Sky over the years. We love you."

My face flushed slightly, and I grinned. "Thanks, Carol," I said. "It's the least I could do."

We got into Dr. Jones' Cadillac and rode back to Sky's house. Sky's father gave us both a stern lecture on the way about water safety, and how we both should've known better than to be going so fast. Sky shot me a glance and rolled his eyes, then laughed softly. I shook my head and grinned back at him.

I did it, I thought. I saved him. Now, I could finally relax. I couldn't wait to throw this back into Pete's face. That mystical stuff was such crap, I thought.

Sunday morning, I felt great. The sun was pouring through my windows, and the clock radio clicked on with Blood, Sweat & Tears' new song 'You've Made Me So Very Happy.' I really did feel happy, I thought. I had saved my best friend's life. I felt like, for once, I finally made a real positive difference for somebody, somewhere. All was right with the world.

"Wil!" called my mother outside my door.

"Yes, Mom?" I answered, pulling up the sheets, lest she caught a glimpse of my nakedness.

She opened up the door and stuck her head in. "Oh, good -- you're awake," she said. "Listen, honey, you really should go over and visit Sky, and see how he's doing. I'm worried about his leg."

I nodded.

"That was wonderful, what you did for him yesterday," she said, smiling. "Now, aren't you glad we made you take those Red Cross classes last summer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Those were MY idea, Mom!" I whined.

She laughed. "I remember it differently," she said, shaking her head. "Anyway, you should get dressed and go over to Sky's house, just to see how he is."

"Okay," I said. I waited for her to close the door, then jumped out of bed, grabbed a pair of shorts and put them on. I padded down the hall to the bathroom and looked both ways. "Hmmmm," I said to myself. "Coast looks clear."

I walked inside, turned on the light and locked the door. I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. Not bad, I thought. The muscles were coming in pretty well. Still not as good as Sky's, but I was getting there. I yanked off my shorts. Whoa, I thought, bouncing my morning erection up and down. I guess I was a lot hornier than I thought.

I fired up the shower and got it to just the right temperature, then slid open the glass doors and hopped in. The water felt great. I still had the remnants of a slight sunburn from yesterday, but I was used to that. I turned my back to the water and began soaping down my body. Mmmmm, I thought. It felt great. I looked down and was somewhat surprised to see my arousal was still at full attention. Well, there's only one way to take care of that, I thought, smiling to myself.

I grabbed the soap and lathered up my hands, then began stroking myself, leaning my shoulder against the tile wall for support. The hot water splashed down my back. I looked down and saw trickles of water flowing down my chest and into my groin. I thought of how great Sky had looked yesterday skiing next to me -- his handsome face laughing, his big arms, his muscular stomach.

I felt my pulse race. My strokes quickened, and I began to gently squeeze my balls. Now, I could see Sky's face next to mine. I was kissing him again, only it wasn't CPR this time -- it was long and passionate, and he put his hand on the back of my head. I let go of my balls and reached up and massaged my chest, lightly pinching one of my nipples. It sent a little electric shock of pleasure through my nervous system.

I grabbed a little more soap, then used both hands at once on my engorged member. It seemed so massive, I thought it would burst at any moment. My thrusts grew faster, more intense. At last, I felt my balls tighten up with the impending orgasm, and I instinctively clenched my buttocks and let out a small moan. Seconds later, I exploded all over the shower wall -- once, twice, three times, then several smaller dribbles. I almost cried out with the intensity. I felt light-headed, and dizzily reached up and grabbed the shower head for support.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the bathroom door.

"Son, are you in there?" yelled my father. "Other people have to use this thing, too, y' know."

"Almost done, Dad!" I yelled back. Hastily, I turned the shower head over to the tile wall, in a desperate attempt to wash the 'evidence' down the drain. I prayed that nobody had heard me. I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and dried myself off. I glanced at my face in the mirror and winced. I definitely looked guilty of something, I thought. I wrapped the towel around my waist and unlocked the door.

"It's about time," snarled my father. "Between you and your mother, it's impossible for anyone to use the damned bathroom in this house."

"Sorry, Dad," I mumbled, walking quickly past him to my room.

Half an hour later, I jogged the two blocks down the street to Sky's house and rang the bell. Dr. Jones opened the door, and he smiled broadly the moment he saw me.

"Come on in, Wil," he said. "Glad you could stop by. Sky's in the kitchen, just resting up."

I heard voices from the other room, and I walked from the living room through the swinging doors that led into their kitchen. Sky had his left leg perched up on a small stool, and Melissa was sitting in his lap, giggling, with her arms wrapped around his neck. They turned and looked up at me.

"Hey, hero!" said Sky.

"Wil!" cried Melissa, jumping up and running over to me. "Oh, thank you so much for what you did yesterday," she said, giving me a big hug and a kiss.

I looked over at Sky, who grinned at me. "Women!" he silently mouthed, rolling his eyes.

"When I heard about what happened," said Melissa breathlessly, "I got over here as quickly as I could," she said, wiping away some tears. "Sky could've... he could've died if it wasn't for you, Wil."

He almost died because of me, I thought. It was totally my fault that he was there in the first place.

"It wasn't a big deal," I said, really meaning it. "I'm just glad he wasn't seriously hurt."

"My leg doesn't hurt at all at the moment," Sky said, laughing. "In fact, I'm floatin' on these pills. Whoo-ee!"

"Give me some of those," I said, laughing. "I need something to ease my pain." I really did, I thought.

"No, no," said Dr. Jones, who'd just entered the kitchen behind me. "Those are strictly prescription. There'll be no funny business with drugs in this house."

"Sorry, sir," I said, meekly. "I was just joking around."

"Drugs are no joking matter, Wil," he said to me, sternly. He turned back to Sky. "Son, are you feeling any better now? How's that bump on your head?"

Melissa was back on Sky's lap, and he was grinning ear to ear. The drugs were definitely doing their job, I thought.

"Feelin' great, Dad," he said, giving Melissa a big, sloppy kiss.

My heart sank. "I, uh... I gotta get going," I said, moving towards the door.

"Hey, Wil!" said Sky.

I turned back at him, and his face softened. "Thanks again, man," he said. "I really mean it."

We nodded at each other. "Glad to see you're almost back to normal," I said. "See you tomorrow in school."

"You're staying home Monday, son," said his father. "I don't want you limping around on that leg with all those stitches. If you're feeling up to it on Tuesday, maybe you can go back then."

"Okay. Well, so long, guys," I said, and left.

The two blocks back to my house felt like two miles. I felt completely miserable. How could I let this happen? I'd almost managed to push Sky out of my life for the last three months, and now, I couldn't stop thinking of him again. I cursed myself for being so weak. I should give Ginny a call, and maybe see if she'd like to hang out today, or something.

By the time I got back to my yard, I was surprised to see a big black Honda motorcycle sitting in my driveway. It had to be Pete's. I wondered why he'd come over without calling first. I walked up the porch and into the living room. There he was, looking better than ever. For some reason, Pete seemed a little more dressed-up than normal, with a button-down shirt and nice-looking slacks.

"Wil," said my mom. "We've been talking to your friend Pete Woods for the last fifteen minutes. He's had a lot to tell us."

I'm sure he has, I thought. "Hi, Pete," I said.

"Hi, Wil," he replied. "I thought I'd swing by just to see if you'd like to, y' know, maybe hang out and jam over at the beach house."

I paused. I'd already finished my homework for the weekend, and Sky seemed preoccupied. "Yeah, sure," I said, at last. "My busy social schedule is open for the day."

"Excellent," he said, hopping off the couch. "Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Larson." He turned to me. "Let's hit the road, sport," he said, clapping me on my shoulder.

In minutes, we were hurtling over one of the bridges that dotted Tampa Bay. "Why'd you come over today?" I yelled, over the deafening wind in our faces.

"The karma felt right," he yelled back. "Hold on tight."

We roared up the metal grating on the breakaway part of the bridge, down highway 19, and over to St. Petersburg Beach. By 2:00, we were walking into his garage, which was empty except for the same instruments that had been there the last time.

"I thought you said we were gonna jam today," I said, looking around for his other bandmates, as Pete closed the garage door.

"Huh?" he said, looking up.

"You know," I said, irritated. "With the band."

He looked preoccupied. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Listen, Wil, I... I just had to talk to you again."

I was starting to get angry. "That again," I said, rolling my eyes. "Listen, Pete. Yesterday, I was out with my friend Sky. He almost died while we were out on a boat."

Pete nodded. "I know," he said, quietly. "I had a feeling something like this was comin'."

I jumped off my seat. "But I saved him, Pete!" I cried. "You were wrong! Sky didn't die! I brought him back! All he got was a little cut on his leg."

"It happened on the water, didn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah, so?" I snapped.

"That's just the beginning," he said, sadly. "Wil, do you know anything about karma?"

I knew a little bit about Indian religions, from reading articles about The Beatles, but that was about it. "You mean like fate," I said, sitting down at the organ.

"Yeah, but that's just part of it," he said, sitting next to me on the bench. "Even learned scholars argue about it. Some of them say there are things that were just meant to be, like they're etched in stone. Others say we control what happens."

Pete turned and looked at me, his face only a foot away from mine. Once again, I had to catch my breath at his good looks. His light blue eyes were so bright, they almost radiated. Although his thick long hair was dirty blond, his eyebrows were dark. His face reminded me a little of Brian Jones, from the Rolling Stones, who had died a few months earlier. Suddenly, I felt keenly aware of my heart surging blood through my loins.

"What do you think, Wil?" he asked.

I gulped. "I... I took an introduction to Philosophy last year in school," I stammered. "I know they talked about determinism versus free will."

"Right," he said. His face was now just inches from mine. "Go on."

My mouth was dry. "I'm... kind of in between," I said, finally. "I think maybe some things are predestined, and maybe others we have some control over."

Pete nodded. "Ah, so you're with the 'compatiblism' school," he said. "That's Hume's theory." He looked at me and grinned. "You say you're how old?"

I felt a flash of anger. "Goddammit, I'll be 14 in three months!" I snapped. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Pete was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, Wil," he said, sincerely. "I'm just amazed that anybody your age..."

I shot him a glance.

"...I mean, that anybody like you would know this stuff," he finished. "I agree with you. I think some things we can't ever change, like our skin color, or the weather. But other things, like how we see the world, how we treat people, what we are on the inside -- those are the kinds of things we've got some control over. Those we can change."

"But I changed what happened with Sky," I insisted, jumping off the bench. Pete was making me so angry, I started to shake. "He would've died if I hadn't been there. But I was!"

Pete's face softened. "You might not be there the next time, Wil," he said, quietly.

Tears sprang to my eyes. "No," I said. "That's not gonna happen."

"I hope you're right, Wil," he said, standing up. "I really hope I'm wrong."

I nodded and turned away. I couldn't let him see me cry. I felt like a total wimp. Pete walked up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"But I know I'm not wrong about you," he said. "You're groovy." He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around me. I felt his warm chest behind me, and I put my hands on his forearms. He leaned down and kissed me on my neck. I felt warmth instantly spread to my entire body.

I caught my breath, then turned around. He smiled at me. "I love you, Wil," he said, simply.

I leaned forward and we kissed. His hand slipped down to my groin, and I began to stiffen under my pants.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to," he whispered.

Even though my heart was pounding like a jack-hammer, I nodded.

"Let's go inside, then." He put his arm around my shoulders and led me through his tiny kitchen and into his bedroom. Posters of The Beatles and The Doors were up on the wall. In seconds, we shed our clothes and were kissing passionately on his bed.

"Oh, man," he panted. "I've wanted this since the first night I saw you."

"At the dance?" I said, breathlessly.

"Yeah," he replied. "It was like I was hit with a thunderbolt."

We kissed again, and he lay me down softly on my back. "I'd like to take all night, but we don't have the time," he said. He lay down on top of my chest and wrapped his arms around me, then began slowly thrusting across my abdomen. Our erections met and throbbed together. His body was warm, almost hot to the touch. His kisses became more passionate, more insistent.

"Oh, god, Wil," he moaned. "I love you so much."

The sweat flowed freely between our chests, and his hips began to pound rhythmically. He groaned and kissed my neck, my eyes, my mouth. Almost by instinct, I wrapped my arms and legs around him and squeezed him gently. We wrapped our tongues together and both moaned. In less than a minute, he suddenly cried out, and I felt a warm fluid splash over my chest and stomach. He collapsed on me, exhausted, then rolled over onto the mattress.

I was shaking. My erection was still throbbing with desire. He looked over at me and smiled, then ran his hand across my groin and gently grabbed it.

"I know," I said, trying to read his thoughts. "I'm big. Everybody tells me," I muttered.

"I don't care," he whispered. "I would've loved you even if you hadn't had a dick at all. I know what you are inside, Wil. That's what I'm really in love with."

Pete pulled his head down below my waist and leaned forward, then inhaled my arousal deep into his mouth. His hands roamed all over my body, which was coated with sweat. He stopped for a moment, then came back up and lightly tweaked my nipples with his lips, then kissed me again. I felt the slight stubble on his face, and smelled a distant fragrance, like some kind of aftershave, mixed with the pleasantly musky smell of his sweat.

He broke off our embrace and grinned, then gently kissed my nose. "I'm sorry we have to do this so fast," he said, softly. "Next time will be better, I promise."

Before I could answer, Pete pulled his head back down and buried his mouth deep into my groin again, this time taking all of me. Holy shit, I thought. He's as good as Ronnie was or better. He grabbed my buttocks with his hands and lightly dug in his fingernails. In moments, I began thrusting uncontrollably.

"Oh, GOD!" I moaned. Over and over again, I was hit with wave after wave of pleasure. I finally collapsed, almost unconscious on the bed.

Pete fell beside me and stroked my chest. I felt like I was sweating from every pore. After I caught my breath, he lifted his arm up, and I rolled over and put my arm and face on his smooth chest. He squeezed me tightly and kissed my forehead.

"That was great, Pete," I said, sighing. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've done this before."

We both laughed. "Well," he said, "I don't consider myself 'gay,' if that's what you mean. I just think I'm flexible."

Funny, I thought. That's almost what RJ said to me just a few months ago.

"When you get down to it, I think we're just animals," he explained. "Animals with a little more reason and emotion, but still animals. And animals just get off, with whoever or whatever they can. I don't buy this 'hetero' or 'homo' shit. I think we're just 'sexual,' period."

I nodded. "I think I know what I am, Pete," I said, quietly.

"Don't try to put a name to it, Wil," he said. "Always leave your options open."

Pete sat up and put his hands behind his head on the pillow. "So," he said. Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

"He's not really... my boyfriend," I said. "Just a friend. My best friend."

I told him how Sky and I had met, how we'd gotten to be close friends over the past six years, and how things had kind of changed over the few months, when we both started going to high school. I didn't hold anything back; I included an abbreviated version of what happened between me and Sky in the gym.

"I knew somebody like that," Pete said, wistfully.

"You did?" I said, surprised. Pete always seemed to me like he had all the answers, like he had some kind of cosmic guide to the universe.

"I used to go to Clearwater High," he explained, "just a few blocks from my Dad's church. I was on the wrestling team. My best friend there was Jeff -- Jeff Armstrong. He still goes there, as a matter of fact."

I nodded. I thought I'd seen his picture in the Tampa Tribune recently.

"Jeff and I had... well, kind of a thing goin' on," he said. "One thing led to the other, and, well..." Pete stopped and looked away, embarrassed.

"You got caught," I said. "Shit, Pete. You're not much of a soothsayer if you couldn't see that coming!" We both laughed.

He grinned. "That's not exactly how it works," he said. "Sometimes it's like I can see the future -- but it doesn't work with myself. I can see it once in awhile with other people, but it's totally unpredictable. I couldn't even tell you if it was gonna rain tomorrow."

"What happened with you and this guy Jeff?" I asked.

Pete sighed. "We got a little carried away after a wrestling meet," he said. "Jeff told me he was real horny after winning a match, and so he... well, begged me to do for him what I just did for you a few minutes ago. We thought the place was deserted, but the coach walked in and found us..."

"...in flagrante delicto," I finished.

"Hey, your Latin's not bad," he laughed.

I grinned. I'd taken Latin at LaFontaine the year before.

"It's a long story," he continued, "but I basically convinced the coach it was all my fault. He knew he couldn't exactly kick the star wrestler off the team, so I just agreed to quit, and Jeff stayed on."

"But you didn't have to quit going to Clearwater, did you?" I asked.

Suddenly, Pete's face darkened. "There's good karma and bad karma in the world, Wil," he said, quietly.

Shit, I thought. "You mean... this guy Jeff told people what happened?"

He nodded. "Word got out, but I dunno how," he said, looking away. "Jeff wouldn't talk to me any more, like I was suddenly uncool. My dad found out and went totally berserk. He said I 'scandalized the church,' and basically threw me out of the house."

Pete caught his breath. I could see this was hard for him.

"I'd inherited a little money from my mom and my grandmother," he said, "so I had enough dough to buy some food and pay the property tax on this place, which was my grandparents' house. I decided to switch schools, and I'm gonna graduate from Madeira Beach High this June."

"But you did see your father again," I said.

Pete's eyes began tearing up. "Only a week before he died."

"Shit," I said. "You two hadn't spoken in how long?"

He choked back a sob. "Almost a year," he said. "But I still... tried to save him. After I saw him getting hurt in my dream. But he wouldn't believe me."

I leaned forward and kissed him. I couldn't explain it, but I had to believe everything he said. It all made perfect sense, at least when Pete said it.

"Thanks," he said, wiping his eyes. "Shit, look what time it is! We gotta get you back home, man."

We rolled off the bed, cleaned ourselves off, and got dressed. "So, you do this very often?" I asked, pulling up my jeans. "You know, pick up strange 13 year-old kids and tell them you're gonna make them rock and roll stars?" I grinned at him.

Pete laughed and shook his head. "I've only done it with three other guys in my life, and a half-dozen girls. And that was just sex." He put his arms around me. "You're different, Wil. I know this sounds corny, but I think you and me -- that was makin' love, man."

"You're right," I said, laughing. "That does sound real corny."

Pete didn't laugh. "I really mean it, Wil," he said, quietly. "With all my heart."

I nodded. "Thanks, Pete."

He kissed me again. "Let's hit the road," he said.

It was dark by the time we pulled into my driveway. We hopped off his bike, but Pete walked me around to the side of the house, next to the hedge.

"What's up, Pete?" I started to ask, then he suddenly leaned down and kissed me again.

"I didn't want to freak out your parents when I said goodbye to you," he said, smiling. "I don't think they'd exactly dig it."

I nodded and grinned. "Good thinking," I said. "Pete, I... I got just a few more weeks of school, then I've got the summer off. Maybe we can, you know, hang out more often."

"It's gonna happen," he said, confidently. "I'd like you to stay with me at the beach over the summer, maybe for a few weeks."

"No way," I said. "I've got swim practice with the city team, I've got a bunch of other stuff going on... I might even go to summer school at LaFontaine, so I can graduate early."

Pete smiled, that same sad smile of his. "I'll wait for you, man. When you're ready. And the karma's right."

"Wil!" called a voice from the porch behind me. "Is that you out there?"

"I gotta go!" I whispered.

Pete nodded and jumped back on his bike and kicked the starter. "Be strong, Wil," he yelled, as the motor roared. "You got some rough times ahead. But you're gonna make it."

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, he screeched down the driveway and shot off into the blackness.

My mother was waiting for me on the porch. "Your friend Pete is a wonderful young man," she enthused. "Your father and I were fascinated by him."

We walked into the living room, and Sharon was playing with the cat again on the couch. The cat was playfully trying to nip at my sister's fingers, which she was wiggling from beneath a cushion.

"I had no idea Pete was 18," continued my mother. "He looked so young, I thought he was Schuyler's age. He said he's going to college in the fall and major in Philosophy. Even your father was very impressed with him."

"What about you, Sharon?" I said, giving my sister's cat a little tickle under her neck. The cat immediately purred and closed its eyes.

"Who?" said Sharon, still trying to get the cat's attention.

"Pete," I said, exasperated. "The guy who came over here."

"Oh, him," she said. "He's okay. But Samantha still doesn't like him."

I rolled my eyes. The cat continued to purr, and began happily licking my hand.
 
 
   

© 2001, John Francis