Diabloa5 & The Aconite Acolyte

Dunn's Chronicles

Part 1: In Light and Chaos

Chapter 3

*Knock-knock-knock*

Miles grabbed his service pistol and stumbled towards the door. Before opening it, he put his ear up against the cheap Sal wood. He couldn't hear anything on the other side. He turned the knob lock and opened the door a crack.

In the hallway stood three shadowy figures; two larger and one smaller. Miles blinked his eyes, which took a second to adjust to the dim light in the hall. Before him stood Anwar al-Ghazni, his translator, and the small dancing boy. The child was still dressed in the same clothing he had been wearing earlier that evening.

"Ta kataley za ta moong halek. Ma yo kitab bacheh."*
[Translations are provided on a separate page which opens in a new window, click on the *]

The polyglot gave Dunn a coy smile and translated what the tribal leader said for Miles.

"Anwar al-Ghazni say he see you like bacheh. He bring as gift to you."

"Huh? What gift?"

"Bacheh, is gift to you."

The translator pushed the boy forwards towards the door. Miles stealthily placed his pistol on the small table beside the door, out of sight of the men.

"I 3; uh 3; I don't get what you mean. The boy is a gift? It's very nice of you, but I can't take any kids back to the base with me."

"Boy is bacheh," the man insisted and pushed the child closer, "he is gift to spend night for you. He do as you please. He please you tonight, as gift."

The child stared up at Miles with his warm, brown eyes. Almost mechanically, the boy lifted his hand to Miles's boxer shorts and cupped his scrotum. Miles froze for a second, his mind reeling. The abruptness of the action shocked him, and he wasn't sure how to react. He was quickly brought back, however, when the boy gave his balls a gentle squeeze. Miles quickly brushed the boy's hand aside, feeling a blush creep over his face.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't accept. Please give Mister al-Ghazni my thanks, but I can't have the boy here."

At the mention of his name, al-Ghazni and the translator exchanged glances. Dunn wasn't sure, but it looked as though the tribal leader may have been offended by Miles's rejection of his 'gift'. The translator thought for a moment before he spoke.

"Please, Anwar al-Ghazni offer bacheh as gift to you. To 3; how you say 3; unaccept 3; would be not showing sign of respect. Please, you take bacheh as gift."

Again, the man pushed the boy forwards, practically into the room. Miles returned his attention to the men in the hallway, barely noticing when the child brought his hand up to Miles's outer thigh and caressed it lovingly.

"Look, you don't understand. Even if I wanted to, if anybody found out that I was sleeping with a 3; bacheh 3; I would be in deep shit. Do you understand, shit?"

The translator shook his head. He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"No, nobody to find out. Bacheh leave at Fajr, before nobody come awake."

The kid certainly was cute. Such delicate, soft brown skin. Such tender, large eyes. The bashful smile that was fixed upon his silky lips was enough to make Dunn's knees weak. To lay with this child would be an honor, like embracing an angel. Miles's heart fluttered at the boy's touch. How could he not accept?

He glanced at the small alarm clock on the nightstand beside his small bed. It would be close to five hours before the call to dawn prayer. His escort wouldn't wake for another hour afterwards. He could bring the boy in, make sure he left by 4:30, and nobody but the four of them would be the wiser.

"Alright," he said, opening the door wider and standing aside, "but I'm not going to 3; ah 3; do anything with him. He is just going to stay here, that's all."

The translator smiled brightly and said something to al-Ghazni in Pashto.

"K'ha, ham daa ba waakhlam"*

Al-Ghazni grinned happily and nodded his head towards Dunn.

"Kha safer walare."*

The translator turned back to Miles and bowed.

"Yes, please, is very good."

The boy stepped into the room and the two men bowed to Miles, then turned to leave. Miles closed the door and faced the boy, who was unbuttoning his kameez. Miles pulled the boy's hands away from the kameez and pointed to the bed.

"No, you can't do that. Do you understand? You are just going to lay here."

The boy looked confused for a moment, then smiled at Miles. My God, that smile is to die for! The boy took hold of Dunn's hand and pulled him towards the bed. Miles, half tempted to follow the kid, shook the hand away.

"No, you don't get it. I'm not sleeping with you. Do you understand English? Any at all?"

"Mehrabani wukei," the boy said, "aya ghwari chi ma sara gada wokri?"*

Miles shook his head and raised his hands to show that he didn't understand. The boy hesitated, then spoke in broken English.

"Please to you?"

The child took hold of Dunn's large hand and placed it upon his soft chest. Unable to resist, Miles gently rubbed it across the boy's smooth skin as the boy dropped the kameez to the floor. He played with one of the boy's nipples, rubbing it softly until it became erect. His hand rubbed up the kid's chest to his neck, and then to the tender cheek. He rubbed a fingertip across the boy's lips and the child closed his eyes and opened his mouth, gently nibbling on Miles's finger. The bacheh untied the drawstring that held up his shalwar, and let them drop to the floor.

Miles looked down at the adorable flaccid penis. It was circumcised, as was customary for a Muslim boy. About an inch long, the head was a light colored brown, and the scrotum was just beginning to darken. The boy must be around ten or eleven, just on the cusp of puberty. As Miles rubbed the boy's lips and cheek, the small penis gave a tiny lurch, beginning to harden.

The bacheh opened his eyes and took hold of Miles's hand. He led the man to the bed, guiding him down onto the mattress before climbing on top of him. Miles could smell the boy's warm breath as he brought his face close; the exotic spices from the evening meal still present. He felt the boy's silky lips upon his own as the child kissed him deeply.

When he felt the child's small hand reach into his boxer shorts and grasp his hardening manhood, he started to reach for it to pull it out. As he took hold of the boy's wrist, however, he changed his mind. He wrapped his hand around the boy's, which in turn was wrapped around his cock, and began to stroke. The boy continued to kiss him, squeezing his cock with each downward thrust of his hand.

He pushed his tongue into the child's mouth and pulled his boxer shorts down to his ankles, which he then kicked off the side of the bed with his foot. The boy released his grip on Miles's cock and started to mount him. The kiss was broken off as the bacheh sat up, kneeling to straddle Miles's body. Miles glanced down and noticed that the boy was fully hard now, his young boy cock standing erect at about three inches [7 cm].

The boy looked down at him and smiled.

"Allah pak somra khokoli stergi darkari di!"*

As he said this, the boy started to move his hips in a steady circular motion, grinding him. Miles could feel the plush valley of the boy's butt crack around his cock. He felt the tender young hands on his chest, holding on to him as the boy gyrated his hips. When he reached down to take hold of the boy's stiff little cocklet, the bacheh moaned softly.

"Mmmm, oriido an akoona ma'aki ila al-abad!"*

The boy closed his eyes and leaned his head back, and Miles started stroking the boy's cock. The grinding was very nice, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be inside of this small angel. Placing his hands on either side of the boy's chest, he carefully pulled the bacheh off to the side and guided him onto his back. Then, he turned and knelt below the child. The bacheh smiled at him and lifted his legs up, holding on to his knees to further expose himself to Miles. The man stared down at the tight, brown hole, then lowered his face to it. He placed his hands on either side of the boy's rump and kissed the small butthole. The boy let out a small gasp, then Miles lifted his head a little and brought the stiff cocklet into his mouth. He sucked on it hard and swirled his tongue around it while the boy moaned above him.

"Aah, zalima, dumra meena rasara ma kawa, lewanai ba me ke!"*

He sucked on the little pole, then nibbled on the child's velvety nutsack. This brought a loud moan from the boy, which caused Miles to stop. The walls were thick at the hotel, but they weren't that thick. He didn't want his escort in the next room to hear the moans. He gave the tip of the boy's cock a quick kiss, then knelt back up, hoping that the boy was prepared for what was going to come next. I wish I had a bit of lube right about now.

The bacheh, noticing Miles getting into position, gave him a quick nod. Then, he spit on his hand and rubbed the saliva on Dunn's erection. He brought his hand up to spit into it, and rubbed it again. He did this several times before lying back and nodding at Miles.

"Mehrabaani,"* the boy said to him, giving him the go-ahead.

Miles nodded back to him, then put the head of his cock up against the boy's vulnerable hole. The bacheh pinched his eyes closed and inhaled sharply, the soft brown cheeks puffing out as the boy held his breath. Obviously, this wasn't the boy's first rodeo. As he started to push himself in, he wondered how many times this boy had been fucked in the past.

"Ya Rab!"*

As he pushed fully into the child, the boy winced and let out a strained whimper of pain. Instead of easing up, Miles started to hump himself in and out of the boy. A very strange feeling had come over him; before, he had wanted to be gentle. Now that he was balls deep in the kid, his primal instinct took over and he didn't care if the bacheh was in pain.

"Akh! Wadrega! Ne tshi zher!"*

The boy shouted between sobs as Miles continued to thrust himself in and out, picking up the pace. Both he and the boy were panting, Miles wheezing from the exertion and the boy gasping from the pain. The boy's eyes started to well with tears, and he tried to push Miles away.

"Mehrabaani wukei! Wadrega!"*

The boy pleaded with him to stop, but Miles only pumped himself harder, the slapping of his crotch against the boy's butt cheeks audible over the heavy breathing and the boy's grunts. The boy shouted again, and Miles knew that he had to do something. The kid was going to wake up the men sleeping in the room next door! Quickly, before the bacheh could yell again, Miles grabbed the pillow from beneath the boy's sweaty head. He quickly stripped off the pillowcase, wadded it up, and shoved it into the boy's mouth to muffle the shrieks of pain.

As he closed his eyes, he could feel the boy's hands on his hips, desperately trying to push him away. In his panicked state, the boy's hole had pinched tightly around Dunn's large cock, giving him more pleasure as it squeezed around him. His head was swimming in a haze of lust and dominance, pain and pleasure. Beneath him, the bucking boy's voice changed. He must have spit out the towel, because he could talk again.

"Itigil, ikaw ay nasasaktan ako!"*

The switch from Pashto to Filipino caught Miles off guard. He opened his eyes and found that he was no longer in the hotel room in Peshawar, and the boy beneath him wasn't Pakistani. He was in the backseat of a Mitsubishi Montero, and the boy was a thirteen-year-old Filipino.

It was dark outside, and the idling SUV was parked behind a closed fish market in Angeles City. Rain gently pattered on the windshield, causing the red and blue lights from the neon sign above them to glare and distort. The air was thick with the smell of fish, but the cabin of the Montero was stifling, so Miles kept the windows cracked. He could feel the cool night air on his bare back, along with the occasional freezing raindrop.

"Tanga, sabi ko ihinto!"*

The boy was short, his brown eyes glaring up at Miles with a fierce scowl. The uncircumcised penis had been erect at one point, but was now flaccid. A very small tuft of pubic hair was visible above it, which Miles had found sexy. The boy had somewhat large nipples, and the small ridges of his ribs could be seen through the skin of his chest.

Miles stripped his own shirt off and got in between the boy's slender legs.

"Hindi! Walang kantutan!"

Without hesitation, Miles pushed himself in, which resulted in a string of pained gasps and curses from the boy. Nervous that somebody might hear the yells, Miles wadded up the boy's underwear and shoved it into his mouth. Now that the screams were muffled, Miles continued to fuck the boy at a steady rhythm.

As the thrusts from his hips slapped against the boy and shook the SUV, Miles held the underwear against the boy's mouth with one hand, and pressed one of the boy's arms down with the other. The kid was struggling to escape, but Dunn's weight pinned him. Miles could feel the tightness of the boy's anus squeezing around his cock, trying to force him out. If he knew how to speak Filipino, he would have told the boy that it wouldn't hurt as much if he would just relax. Unfortunately, he didn't speak the language, so he focused on trying to finish quickly. He didn't want to cause the boy too much pain and he was afraid of somebody taking notice of the vehicle, rocking back and forth in the small alleyway.

Due to the fact that what he was doing was dangerous, coupled with the cuteness of the beautiful street child, it wasn't long before Dunn could feel the orgasm building. He humped even harder into the boy's anus, ignoring the muted grunts of pain. He peaked quickly and violently, gasping for breath as he filled the boy's rectum with his cum. He collapsed upon the child, who instantly began to struggle. The kid managed to rip the underwear away from his mouth, and he started yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Tulungan mo nga ako! Panggagahasa niya sa akin!"*

The kid managed to reach across the seats and open the passenger door. As he scrambled to get out, Miles jumped into action. He wasn't quick enough to grab the escaping boy, so instead, he tossed the kid's clothing out of the SUV. Then, shirtless and with his pants still down to his knees, he crawled into the driver's seat, threw the gear into drive, and stomped on the gas pedal. As the vehicle jumped to life, he stood on the gas, steering with one hand so that he could pull up his pants with the other. He turned out of the alley and onto the main street.

*Beep-beep* *Beep-beep* *Beep-beep*

Miles awoke in a cold sweat, and with another pounding erection. He slapped at the alarm clock, hitting the snooze button. It was 7:00 and he was in his small bed in his room at St. Xavier. He had had another dream, this one about an experience in the Philippines. As he sat up, he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Why had the bacha bazi dream turned violent? It hadn't actually happened that way, he had only laid with the nude boy. He hadn't actually had sex with him.

The Filipino boy had been different, and it was something that Miles was deeply ashamed of. It had happened at a time when he had been weak. The kid had offered to give him a blowjob, and as they were in the back of the tiny Montero, lust had flooded his brain. He had been uncaring and aggressive towards the child and tossed his clothes out after him, just like in the dream. His actions haunted him since it had not been much different from a rape, and over the years he tried not to think about it. It had been one of his lowest points, and he hated himself for it. Such behavior had repeated itself on several occasions; his pent up frustrations brought out the worst in him.

Miles had been on a two day pass over the weekend, and had gone out with three of his squad members for a night out on the town. As they stopped at a red light, the boy had approached the vehicle and offered to give them all blowjobs. The three passengers were sickened by this, and chased the kid off, hurling insults at him. Not wanting to reveal his true nature, Miles joined them in berating the boy, although he hated to do it. Fortunately, the light changed and they were soon off on their weekend adventure.

Miles was the designated driver, and as they cruised around, they eventually came upon a well-known strip club on Burgos Street. Miles joined his buddies for what was supposed to be only a couple of beers, but he ended up drinking too much. As the others continued to drink in the stuffy bar, he mentioned that he wanted to get a little air. After a parade of good natured jokes from his friends about 'going to pick up a hooker', Dunn left. He got into the rented Montero and decided to drive around for a while.

Deep down, he knew that he was going to look for the boy whore again, even though he tried to fool himself into believing that he was just out to soak up the nightlife. When he cruised past the now closed fish market, he saw the kid again, leaning up against a telephone pole and smoking a cigarette. He slowed the vehicle to a crawl, and the boy sauntered over to him.

"Hey soldier, gusto mo ng suck job?" the boy said in a mixture of Filipino and English.

Miles opened the door and the boy directed him to a small, deserted alleyway behind the market. After reclining the rear seats, Miles paid him 2,000 Philippine pesos, and the boy went to work on his cock. About halfway through, Miles started to remove the boy's clothing. The prostitute resisted at first, but Miles really wanted to suck his cock. After a little negotiation, more money traded hands and the boy peeled off his shirt and pulled his ratty jeans down. Miles started sucking the boy, giving him a rock hard erection. He enjoyed blowing the boy for a while, but soon that primal lust took over, and he started to lay the boy back.

"Hey!" the boy shouted, "ano ang ginagawa mo?"*

Miles had no idea what was being said, but apparently the boy was reluctant to allow Miles to penetrate him. Miles gave up the last of his money which the boy quickly took, but the little prostitute still seemed agitated about something. After a few demands in Filipino and a motion of his hands, Miles understood what the boy was implying; that he wasn't going to let the big soldier anywhere near the goods without protection. Finally understanding what the problem was, Miles fished around inside of his wallet and produced a red Durex condom. As he slid it onto his rock hard erection, the kid lay back and spread his legs apart, giving Miles access to his puckered brown hole.

The sex was amazing, although the boy was a little loose. Everything went fine until Miles held onto the roll bar for support and began pumping himself into the boy harder. Then, the kid yelped and started yelling at him in Filipino. In the deep recesses of his mind, Miles knew that he was being too rough with the boy, but the alcohol was clouding his judgment and all he could think about was getting himself off inside of this cute Filipino hooker.

"Hindi! Walang kantutan!"

Miles ignored the boy's angry pleas and curses, fucking the boy hard enough to make the entire SUV rock. He was nervous about somebody hearing the boy's yells, so he pushed the dirty underwear into the kid's mouth to silence the noise. He pinned the little hooker down as he neared his orgasm, and at that crucial moment when his cock started to throb and he emptied his seed into the thin latex condom, the kid's hand shot out and grabbed the door handle.

Miles was momentarily caught up in the throes of ecstasy and he wasn't quick enough to grab the flailing child. The kid squirmed out of his grip and spilled out onto the dirty street, then took off running down the alleyway, shouting curses at the top of his lungs. Miles quickly jumped into the driver's seat and sped off until he found another empty street running perpendicular to the alley.

The street was thankfully empty, so he made another quick left turn, followed by a right. This put him in yet another small alley. He stopped the SUV and got out for a moment. He was sweating heavily, both from the sex as well as the frenzied escape. The cool rain felt good on his overheated skin. He put his hands on top of the vehicle, bent his head and caught his breath. Then, he retrieved his shirt from the back seat and put it on. He did a quick once-over to make sure that the street kid hadn't left anything behind, then jumped back into the driver's seat and sped off.

He hadn't dreamed about the boy in years, and now, in the early morning light, he was again disgusted by the cruel and selfish act. Why did I do it, he asked himself, why didn't I stop at the blowjob? The memory of how out of control he felt scared him. His sexual desire had kicked his self-discipline out of his mind and taken over. He was the one doing it, but it felt as though he wasn't in control of his own body. He shuddered as he recalled the feeling.

He would have to be much more careful at St. Xavier, it was out of the question that he could allow anything like that to happen here. The school was full of boys, most of whom Miles found extremely attractive. One misstep and he could lose control again; only this time, he wouldn't be able to just drive away. He would have to face the consequences of his actions. He would have to keep himself focused on his job and ignore the fact that he was utterly surrounded by boys.

The alarm went off again, and Miles turned it off. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor, yawning again and stretching the sleepiness out of his limbs. He waited for his erection to die down, then lifted himself out of bed and started getting dressed. He might be able to jerk off in the shower again, although some of the other teachers might be up by now, and he may not have the chance. He hoped so; if he didn't get rid of this morning horniness, he would be on the verge of springing an erection all day. Not a good idea, especially since today was his first day of morning dorm duties.

He gathered up his toiletries and a towel, and hurried down the hallway. On either side, boys could be heard snoring behind closed doors. He tore open the main door and stepped out into the crisp, spring morning air. Not taking any time to relish in it, he practically ran across the campus to the teacher's showers, hoping that he would have a chance to rub one out before the students woke up.

Miles got back to his dorm room with four minutes to spare. He had been lucky; although several of the teachers had been up, only one other had been in the showers. Miles took the last shower at the end, closed the shower curtain, and was able to quickly jerk off before washing himself. He dried, took a quick piss while brushing his teeth, and sped back to Bear house. Once again, he walked down the hallway surrounded by the gentle snores of the boys in their rooms. A thought invaded his head as he passed them; I'm surrounded by a bunch of prepubescent and adolescent boys. I wonder what they are dreaming about with all those raging hormones? He quickly chased the thought away. He needed to stop thinking that way and focus on his work.

Miles quickly dressed into the clothes he had picked out for the day; black cargo pants and a white sweater. He checked himself in the small travel mirror that he had attached to the wall the previous morning. He glanced to make sure that his hair looked good and checked his teeth. He rubbed some Old Spice deodorant underneath his pits, sprayed on some Axe body spray. After holding his hand up to his mouth to smell his own breath, he realized what he was doing. He was going through the same rituals a "normal" man would go through before a date. What are you doing, he asked himself, you're doing too much. You're here as the school security officer. Still, it wouldn't hurt to smell good for the students, would it?

The wake up bell rang, and Miles took one final self-conscious glance in the mirror. Satisfied with the way he looked, he opened his door and stepped into the hall. A few of the boys were already out of the dorm rooms, looking tired and stumbling towards the bathroom in various stages of dress. One boy that looked to be about eleven yawned and staggered past Miles in his boxer shorts. The boy had a striking resemblance to Eddie Munster from The Munsters, a show that Miles had watched as a kid on a channel specializing in old reruns. Miles couldn't help having a quick peek at the boy's ass as the kid continued towards the bathroom. Stop it, Miles, he scolded himself as he shook his head.

"Let's go, boys! Wake up! Wake up! Time to get moving!"

Miles walked down the hallway clapping his hands and shouting orders, copying what Mr. Lerher had done the previous morning. More boys spilled out of their rooms, most looking like a bunch of mindless zombies while others appeared full of energy as they went to brush their teeth and use the bathroom. He knocked on one of the doors that was still closed, giving the boys inside a warning before he opened the door.

"Come on boys, hurry it up! Let's get moving!"

The four occupants inside were just rolling out of bed.

"Okay, okay, we're going," one of the boys grumbled.

"Come on sleepyheads, you don't want to be late for breakfast."

Miles turned, leaving the door open, and continued his wake up walk down the hallway. He would occasionally peek his head into a room to rouse a lazy boy, or to hurry along a student that was dawdling. He was happy to see the diversity of the students; coming in all different ages, sizes, and shapes. The youngest appeared to be around nine, and the oldest looked about sixteen or seventeen. Some were skinny, some fat, and some athletic. Just about every race was represented as well. Miles couldn't be more pleased. If he had allowed himself to think dirty, he might have thought something along the lines of, gee, so many flavors to choose from! But he reminded himself that he wasn't going to think this way.

When he reached the stairs at the end of the hall, he climbed them two at a time. On the second floor, more boys were pouring out of their rooms, flocking towards the bathroom at the opposite side of the hallway. Apparently, every sink inside was currently occupied by a student brushing their teeth, because there was a small line forming in front of the doorway. Miles knocked on another closed door, giving the boys warning before opening it.

"Come on boys, let's get moving! Wake up, wake up! Let's go!"

He opened the door and was surprised by the sound of a loud smack on the other side. He opened it wider and saw a boy of about fourteen, holding his forehead and stumbling backwards, away from the door.

"Oh shit, are you okay?"

Miles didn't even realize that he had cursed in front of the boys, which was against the policy. He rushed into the room and put a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. This wasn't going to look good, his first official morning duty, and he had injured one of the students. He would probably get chewed out for this. Threats of a lawsuit danced through his mind as he checked on the boy.

"You alright? I didn't know you were right behind the door."

The boy was holding his forehead, and the other three students in the room were laughing behind their hands. Miles didn't like the fact that they were laughing at an injury, and he was about to say so when the boy lowered his hand and started laughing as well.

"Heh heh, gotcha!"

The other boys doubled over with laughter, and Miles realized that he had been played. The kid had smacked the door with the palm of his hand as Miles opened it, pretending that it had hit him in the face. Feeling embarrassed, Miles felt a blush rise to his face. Damned little pranksters. It's a dorm full of boys, I should have expected some practical jokes on my first official morning. He shook his head, unable to hide his grin.

"Alright, ha ha, very funny."

The boy grinned back at him with an impish, mischievous grin.

"What's your name?" he asked the prankster.

"Sean Parks, sir."

"Very funny Sean Parks, now get moving or you'll miss breakfast."

He followed the giggling boys out into the hall. The boy that had played the joke walked over to a small group of students waiting in line, and Miles overheard him telling the group about the little prank.

"You guys shoulda seen it, I scared the shit outta the new guy!"

"Watch your mouth, please," Miles said as he passed them.

He continued checking dorm rooms on the second floor, then headed back downstairs to make sure all the students on the first floor were awake. There was a line for the bathroom downstairs, too. Near the end of the line, Miles caught sight of Matthew. The boy was wearing a pair of red and white flannel pajama bottoms, holding his toothbrush in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other.

"Hey Mister Dunn," the boy said as he approached.

"Hey, Matthew, good morning. You doing alright?"

"Yeah," the boy said before turning sheepishly back towards the bathroom.

Miles could understand. The other boys would probably make fun of Matthew if he socialized with the teachers too much. The fact that the gorgeous blond boy had acknowledged him at all made his morning much brighter. And he called me by name in front of his peers! he thought, then realized how much it sounded like something a preteen girl would say.

He checked all the rooms, making sure that the boys were out of bed and either in the bathroom line, or getting dressed for the day. He was surprised at the apparent lack of modesty among the boys. They kept their doors open as they dressed, and none of them seemed to bat an eye at his checking in on them. Some would ignore him, others would nod or greet him with a 'good morning, sir' as they changed out of their pajamas and into their uniforms. Miles tried not to stare at any bulges whenever he came across a boy in his underwear. He tried to keep himself focused on his duties, only glancing in to make sure the boys were getting ready.

After the downstairs sweep, he went back upstairs and did the same to all the rooms there as well. He relished listening to all the laughter and shouts that filled the hallways. It reminded him of his own childhood; goofing off with his friends, not a care in the world. Ah, to be young again, he thought with nostalgia. Who was it that said 'youth is wasted on the young'? Shaw? Wilde? Miles wasn't sure, but he knew it to be true.

He was heading back to the first floor when a small boy met him on the stairs. The kid looked as though he was probably the youngest student in the dorm, if not the entire school. His dark brown hair was cut in a short, shaggy style, and he had bright blue eyes. Miles raised an eyebrow at the boy, who was clad in nothing but a pair of white briefs.

"Mistew Dunn?"

The cute way the boy said his 'R's' made Miles smile inwardly, though he kept a straight face. He didn't want the boy to think that he was being made fun of.

"Yes?"

"Can you help me?"

"Sure, what's up? What's your name, buddy?"

"Wyan," the boy said, then leaned in closer to him and whispered conspiratorially, "I had an accident."

Without meaning to, Miles's eyes instinctively dropped down to the small bulge in the boy's tighty whities. Sure enough, the front looked a little yellowed and damp. Miles glanced over his shoulder to make sure that none of the other boys had noticed. The boy was probably teased enough for his speech impediment, being known as a bedwetter would cause him endless torment from the older kids.

"Okay, uh 3; which room is yours?"

The boy turned and led him to one of the dorm rooms. As soon as they entered, Miles could smell the faint odor of urine. The boy pointed to one of the bottom bunks, and Miles walked over to it. Yep, it was wet alright. He would have to strip the sheets before the boy's dorm mates finished in the bathroom and came back.

"Alright, um 3; do you uh, have any other bed clothes?"

The boy nodded and walked over to his dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a fresh sheet and mattress cover. Miles went about the business of stripping the old sheets off the bed and placing them in a pile near the door. The thin mattress was solid-core latex, which was a good thing. It meant that it would only have to be wiped off with a wet, soapy washcloth. It also meant that the boy was probably a chronic bedwetter. Miles flipped the mattress over; the other boys might be back any minute, so he would have to come back and clean off the mattress later, during breakfast.

"Okay bud, I'll come back and wash this off while you guys are at breakfast."

"Yeah," the boy said matter-of-factly, "that's what Mistew Lewhew always does."

"You might want to change your undies before the others come back," Miles said as he put the new bedclothes on the clean side of the mattress.

Without batting an eye, the boy hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down to his ankles. It took Miles completely by surprise; he had expected the kid to be a little more shy, and wait until after he had left. Too stunned to turn away, Miles stared at the boy's small penis. It was circumcised and about the size of an AA battery. As the boy stepped out of his underwear, it bounced around cheerfully.

Luckily, the boy wasn't paying any attention to him, but turned and opened the top drawer to retrieve a clean pair of underwear. Miles forced himself to turn his attention away from the boy's small butt, and went back to work stretching the clean mattress cover over the latex mattress. When he was finished, the boy was thankfully wearing new briefs. He looked up at Miles expectantly.

"Err 3; what, uh, does Mister Lerher usually do with the wet sheets?"

"I dunno," the boy said, shrugging his shoulders, "I think he puts them in his woom to be washed."

There was a dirty clothes hamper in the corner of the room, but the other boys would smell the reek of urine when they opened it to throw their clothes in. It would probably be better to do as the boy suggested, and put them in his own room until he had a chance to take them to the teacher's lounge to wash. He gathered them up in his arms, careful to hold only the drier corners of the sheets.

"Okay, Ryan, go ahead and get ready for breakfast. You might want to wash yourself in the bathroom, too, if you get a chance."

"Okay," the boy said and graced him with a friendly smile, "thanks Mistew Dunn."

"No problem, buddy."

Miles carried the bedsheets down the hall to his own room. He dropped them in the corner before turning to leave. As he walked back down the hallway, he realized that he had rescued the kid just in time; two older boys were stepping into the room to get changed. Miles felt good that he had a chance to help a young student save face, although he wasn't looking forward to having to go through this routine every time he was on dorm duty.

By five minutes to eight, the bathrooms were clear and all the boys were either in their rooms changing, or sitting on their bunks, waiting for the breakfast bell. Now that they were fully awake, the students were much more receptive of Miles, and would greet him with 'hello, sir's, and 'good morning's. A few of them even remembered his name, which was nice. Whispers could be overheard in many of the dorm rooms about the 'new guy', and what their first impressions of him were. It was only his second day, and already he wondered what his reputation would be. It seemed to be on the positive side for now, which was good. First impressions were often lasting ones. Miles couldn't be happier.

The breakfast bell rang at 8:00, and Miles walked down the hallway again, clapping his hands and telling the students to hurry up to breakfast. He remained behind until all the boys had left, then checked both bathrooms, the common room, and all the dorm rooms for any stragglers. Before going to breakfast, he returned to his room to collect Ryan's wet bed sheets. He closed the door and carried them across the quad to the teacher's lounge, where he dumped them into the washing machine and started the cycle. He would switch them to the dryer after breakfast, and bring them back to give to Ryan after classes had ended. Feeling sneaky, but in a good way, Miles left the lounge and set out for the cafeteria.

Breakfast had gone well, Mr. Fisher had been in a lively mood, peppering Dunn with all sorts of questions about his military past. Mr. Daniels made a point to ask him how the interview with Sven had gone, and Miles said that he was still investigating. As he ate his breakfast and chatted with Fisher, Miles noticed a few of the students casting glances towards him, and a few even pointing. He was relieved to see a small troop of boys sitting beside Matthew Perry wave at him when he looked in their direction.

"Have you heard anything about the virus in China?" Fisher asked him.

"No, I haven't," Miles answered in between bites.

"It's all over the news, apparently there's some sort of 'super flu' going around. They haven't released many details about it just yet, but there is all sorts of speculation about what could happen if it spread. They are talking about the possibility of putting the entire country under quarantine."

"Really?"

Miles hadn't watched any news programs since before his flight. Perhaps he could catch the news between interviews this afternoon.

When breakfast had ended, Mr. Daniels gave the morning announcements and then excused the students. Miles headed back towards Bear house, exchanging greetings with some of the students from other houses. One boy in particular snatched his attention; he was a boy of about twelve or thirteen with pale, alabaster skin, jet black hair, and pale blue eyes. The boy was leaning against one of the small apple trees that lined the main path in the quad. He was standing as though he were posing, his slender legs crossed in front of him and his hands in his pockets.

"Good morning, Mister Dunn," the boy said as Miles passed him.

"Good morning 3; er 3;"

"Anthony," the boy said, blinking his eye, "Anthony Reid."

Did he just wink at me? Miles didn't think so, why would a thirteen-year-old boy he had never met wink at him? Obviously, Miles must be thinking in sexual terms again. He pushed the thought out of his mind and smiled at the boy.

"Nice to meet you, Anthony. Did you have a good breakfast?"

"Yes," the boy answered, "but I'm still kinda hungry."

If Miles didn't know better, he would swear the kid was flirting with him. Fortunately, he did know better. He reached up and picked an apple off the tree. He tossed it to the boy, who caught it and looked almost confused.

"There ya go, bud."

He smiled at the boy and continued past, heading back for the dorm. The kid had looked almost shocked when Miles had tossed the apple to him, as though he was expecting a different response. Miles glanced back over his shoulder, and saw the boy walking in the opposite direction. This puzzled Miles, why would a boy from a different house go out of his way to greet him? Especially standing beneath the apple tree like that, when his dorm was in the opposite direction? Miles pondered over this until he arrived at Bear house. He was back on dorm duty, and he had other things to focus on right now.

The dorm was once again filled with boyish talk and laughter as the boys cleaned their rooms for inspection. Miles watched a few of them work; first they would remove their bed sheets and shake them out. They would flip the thin mattresses and pound the dirt out of them. Then, one of the older boys in the room would sweep the floor, collecting the dirt into a dustpan which he would empty out into the room's small trash can. The other boys would put their bed clothes back on and straighten the sheets, then open each of their dresser drawers and tidy the clothes inside. Any trash they came across would be thrown into the trash can. When they were finished, they would sit on their bunks and talk among themselves as they waited for the inspectors to make their rounds.

At ten minutes to nine, the inspectors blew a whistle, signaling silence. The boys would stop talking and stand at attention at the foot of their bunks. Then, two sets of inspectors would go from room to room, one pair upstairs and one downstairs. The inspectors were prefects, carrying clipboards and marking off on the cleanliness of the room, and the neatness of each student's bunk and drawers. Miles watched the prefects on the first floor; they looked overly proud of their positions, and took their jobs a little too seriously. He could hear them yelling at boys whenever their room wasn't spotless.

After inspections were over, the prefects carrying the clipboards gave their sheets to Miles to check off. He ran down the list, noticing several comments in the margins. One student was marked for having open food in a drawer, another hadn't flipped his mattress. The list went on, and Miles found himself thinking about how much the prefects reminded him of prison wardens in their inspections. They certainly allowed no errors as far as cleaning went.

He happened to come across Matthew's room and he quickly checked the boy's marks. Everything looked good for the boy, and the room itself had no bad comments. Miles was relieved, it would have sucked for the kid to get berated within his first week of school. Miles signed his name at the bottom of the sheet and asked one of the prefects what to do with them.

"After the bell rings, you take them to Mister Daniels's secretary. She collects them to give to Mister Daniels, and he files them after he looks them over. That way, he can keep track of students that never clean. They can get detention if they get bad marks too many times."

The last sentence was said a little too eagerly for Dunn's taste, as if the prefect was excited at the prospect of a student being punished. Bullies come in many different forms, he thought. He thanked the prefect and turned back into his room to collect his notepad. The dorm was eerily quiet, for having about a hundred boys currently in it. Although the inspection sheets had already been turned in, they were probably worried about getting bad marks for talking. Miles breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang, and the students noisily emptied out into the hallways again.

He stopped by the headmaster's office to drop the papers off with the secretary, who greeted him with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Mister Dunn."

"Good morning, Missus Eldritch," he smiled back at her.

"How are you enjoying Saint Xavier?"

"Just fine, thanks. It's a very nice school."

She seemed pleased by his answer, and beamed at him. As Miles turned to leave, Mrs. Eldritch stopped him.

"Oh, Mister Dunn, you forgot to check your mailbox."

"Mailbox?" He didn't realize that he had one.

"Well, it's more of a mail cubby-hole, really. Mister Daniels leaves notes for the teachers in them, and I saw him put one in your mailbox earlier."

She pointed to her right, and Miles followed her finger. Along the wall, there was a large wooden mail sorter attached to the wall. Each box had a name taped below it. In this day and age they still use physical mailboxes? Miles walked over to the sorter and found his name. Sure enough, there was a folded paper inside. He pulled it out, opened the paper and read the note.

Miles-

Enclosed is a list of students that I would like you to interview today, along with the times they are to be interviewed. Their teachers have already received notifications, so the students should report to your office at the times listed.

Ernst & Patrick Muller 9:30
Lewis Silva 10:00
Tanner Holt 10:30

Please review their files before they arrive. If you have any questions, feel free to stop by my office. I have instructed Mrs. Eldritch to let you right in.

–C. Daniels

Miles folded the note and stuck it into his pocket. He thanked Mrs. Eldritch, who graced him with another one of her friendly, and turned to leave the office. His first meeting was with what appeared to be two brothers; Ernst and Patrick Muller, and it was scheduled a half hour from now. That should be enough time for Miles to swing by the teacher's lounge to put Ryan's bedsheets into the dryer, and come back to his office to read up on the Muller brothers.

The Muller brothers' files listed them as sons of the German UN ambassador. Patrick, the older brother, was thirteen, and Ernst was ten. Both were superb students, receiving high marks and no demerits. One point of interest that Miles noticed was that the brothers resided in different houses; Patrick was an Eagle, while Ernst was a Bear. That seems a little odd, Miles thought as he scanned through their separate files, I would think that brothers would be placed in the same dorm. Perhaps he could start the interview by asking them about this. That way, he could feel them out and see how they reacted to his questions before moving on to the real issue.

After Miles finished with their student files, he moved on to the incident report. The report actually had little to do with the brothers; instead, it was about a runaway student named Robert Mannheim. The twelve-year-old had left the school grounds shortly before Dunn's arrival, early in the spring. After a search had been conducted by several local county police departments, the boy was found back in his own hometown six days after his disappearance from the school. The boy's parents were reluctant to talk with school officials, but insisted that 'Robbie' was not going to return to St. Xavier.

The Muller brothers were known friends with Robbie Mannheim, all part of the School's small German colony. They were the last to have talked with Robbie before the boy ran away, and Miles's job was to try to figure out what caused Robbie to leave the school. Tom Bartlett, the previous school security officer, had questioned the Mullers, but to no avail. The boy's wouldn't surrender any information about Robbie's mindset. Now, it was Dunn's turn to give it a shot.

Ernst Muller arrived at Miles's office first, at 9:25. Miles had the dark-haired boy sit, and offered him a Coke. Miles had brought a few different types of soft drinks to his office to give out during the interviews, going on the notion that it might make the students more amenable and more willing to talk. The child politely declined, and fidgeted nervously in his seat as he looked around the office with his large, brown eyes.

At 9:27, Patrick entered the office and took a seat beside his younger brother. Both boys had matching dark brown hair, slightly long and wavy on the sides and in the back. Their eyes and mouths were the same, giving away the fact that they were closely related. Only their noses were different; Patrick's being slightly long and straight, while Ernst's was a little more curved and short.

Miles offered the older brother a Coke, which was turned down again. After reassuring the boys that they weren't in any kind of trouble, Miles broke the ice by introducing himself. He informed them that he would be asking them a few questions, and started with the question about the dorm situation.

"Patrick, you are in Eagle house, is that correct?"

"Yes," the boy answered, flicking the hair out of his eyes with an expert jerk of the head.

"And you're in Bear house, right Ernst?"

"Yeah," the younger brother replied.

"Is there any particular reason that you two are in different houses?"

The boys both shrugged their shoulders. Miles found it amusing how alike the two were, even though they were three years apart in age.

"I dunno, Mister Dunn," Patrick started, "I guess it's 'cuz my parents didn't request that we get put in the same dorm."

"There's a house request on the application forms?"

"Yeah," the boy said, flicking the hair out of his eyes again, "I came here four years ago, when I was nine, and I got put in Eagle house.. Ernst just came here last year, and my parents didn't request the same house, so they stuck him in Bear."

"Okay," Miles said and smiled at them reassuringly, "do you like being split up that way?"

"S'okay," the older boy said with a shrug, "it's kinda nice to have a room where your little brother can't just barge in, ya know? Like privacy."

Miles nodded. Although he didn't have any brothers back home, he knew from boot camp how much of a blessing it could be to have your own private room.

"How about you, Ernst?" Miles asked, nodding to the smaller child.

This boy, too, flicked the hair out of his eyes with a practiced jerk of the head. He probably copied the move from his older brother. Ernst's eyes dropped for a second before he raised them again to meet Dunn's.

"Well," he said carefully, "I guess that sometimes I wish we were in the same house. We wouldn't have to be in the same room, though. But then I would have to be in Eagle house, and I'm glad that I'm not."

The minute the words left the boy's mouth, his older brother shot him a dirty look. Ernst immediately snapped his mouth shut, refusing to offer anything else. To Miles, it looked like the statement meant something more than simple house rivalry.

"How come you're glad that you're not in Eagle house?"

Ernst dropped his eyes again and shrugged. Beside him, Patrick looked slightly angry. When Ernst didn't answer, his older brother answered for him.

"Ernst is just jealous because Eagle is the best of the three houses, that's all."

"I was asking Ernst," Miles said, brushing the comment aside.

Ernst shrugged again. He looked to Miles like somebody that had put his foot in his mouth. Yet when he looked up at Miles again, his eyes had a look of determination in them.

"Pat's right, I'm just jealous that he's there and I'm not."

Miles didn't think this was the real reason, but he had other questions to ask. He scribbled a few notes on his notepad, reminding himself to inquire about this further at a future date. When he was finished, he put down his pen and looked up at the brothers. Time to get to the real questions.

"Alright boys, I'm sure you know that I didn't call you in here to ask about your living quarters. I called you in here to ask you about Robert Mannheim. You both remember him, don't you?"

Both boys nodded gravely.

"What can you tell me about him?"

They were hesitant to speak, but finally, Ernst broke.

"Um 3; well, Robbie was uh, pretty cool. He was the same age as Pat, so he knew him better."

Patrick shot him another dirty look. Miles stared directly at him, urging him to talk. When the boy realized that he wasn't going to get away with keeping his mouth shut, he spoke as well.

"Yeah, he was cool. We were pretty good friends and all, up until he left."

"I see," Miles said, "it says in the incident report that you two were best friends."

He looked up to gauge Patrick's reaction. The boy flushed a little, but nodded.

" 3; I guess 3;"

"And being best friends, you must have confided in each other regularly, am I right?"

Again, the boy flushed. Miles also noticed that his voice lowered a little.

"I guess you could say that."

"Mhmm, so Patrick, can you tell me why he felt compelled to run away from St. Xavier?"

An anxious look passed over the boy's face. Something was bothering him about the incident, and he didn't look like he wanted to talk about it.

"I don't know."

"Really? You two were best buds, and he never told you why he wanted to run away?" "No."

"So why do you think he did it?"

"I don't know. He never told me."

"Never?" Miles asked.

"No, never."

Patrick looked down at his shoes. He appeared to be thinking carefully. Miles guessed that he was probably deciding upon which lie to tell. He's figuring out which story would shut me up the quickest. A minute ticked by, then another. Miles didn't have a whole lot of time, he still had to read through the student file and incident report for the next interview. Clearing his throat, he tried humor. Maybe making the boy laugh would break the tension.

"Well, I'm assuming that he didn't run away because he hated the food. Tater tots wouldn't cause someone to hitchhike over thirty miles [50 km] to get back home. Even if they were awful."

He said this last part with a smile, showing the boys that he was joking. But they didn't return his smile. Patrick took another few seconds to think about his answer, then looked back up at him, appearing almost coy.

"I think he just missed his parents 3; and he hated tater tots."

Miles shook his head slowly. It was obviously a lie, he could read it in the boy's eyes. Since they were in the mood for humor, perhaps being authoritative and asking a leading question would get them to talk.

"Come on, Patrick, you and I both know that isn't true. Why don't you want to tell me the truth, is it really all that bad?"

"I told you," Patrick said firmly, "I don't know why he left. He never told me."

Miles tsked. Perhaps now was the time to call Patrick out on the blatant lie.

"Patrick," Miles said slowly, "I'm afraid I don't believe you. I think you know exactly why Robert left, and you're afraid of ratting out your friend. Do you want to know what I think?"

Patrick shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

"I think that somebody here at the school was bothering him. I think they were bullying him, or harassing him, or something like that. Am I right, was it one of the older boys?"

Patrick sat stone-faced for a moment. Miles already knew that this was the reason, otherwise the boy would have relaxed a little. Instead, Miles could see the vein on the side of his neck beating faster, indicating fear. Miles must have hit the nail right on the head.

"Who was it that was bothering him, Patrick? Was it one of the prefects? Another student? What were they doing to him, to make him want to run away like that?"

Patrick didn't answer, but Ernst did.

"It was them Eagle boys," Ernst interjected.

Patrick snapped his head towards his little brother, and scowled at him. Ernst's eyes went wide, then he turned his attention towards his shoes.

"What was 'those Eagle boys'? What were they doing?"

Patrick continued to stare daggers into his brother, and Ernst quickly clammed up.

"Nothing," Patrick said through clenched teeth, "nobody did anything to Robbie. Like Ernst said before, he's just jealous of Eagle house."

Miles wanted to pursue this further, but the brothers weren't going to talk anymore. He sighed and glanced at his watch – 9:53. His next interview should be here within the next few minutes, and Miles still had to familiarize himself with the student's file.

"Alright," he said as he rose from his chair, "I can see that this is bothering you. We'll stop here for now."

A look of relief washed over the boy's faces as they rose from their chairs. Miles walked around his desk and towards his office door. As he held it open for them, he gave it one final try.

"Do me a favor though, boys, think about what we talked about in here today. If there's some kind of trouble here at the school, I need to know about it. Things will only get worse if nobody speaks up. We'll have another interview some other time, but until then, think about what would be best for everybody at Saint Xavier's. Whatever was bothering Robbie shouldn't have to bother anybody else, and that can only be fixed if someone is willing to come forward. Understand?"

Both boys nodded and quickly slipped out of Miles's office. Miles sighed again and closed the door. He made a mark in his notebook about the possibility of re-interviewing Ernst alone later on, since he seemed to be the most talkative of the two. He sat down behind his desk and scanned through the files for Lewis Silva's. He found the incident report, and upon reading it, realized that Lewis was one of the prefects that had testified against Sven Lindquist in the vandalism case. He popped open a Coke and sipped it as he read through the report, finishing just before there was a knock at his office door.

***

"Hey Matty, you gonna play in the tournament today?"

"Tournament?"

"Yeah," Walt said, "it's one of St. Xavier's biggest events of the year. There's a huge soccer match on the football field, and all the houses compete in a little tournament. Any student is allowed to play, and it's always lots of fun."

"And it's today?"

"Geez," Walt said with a cheerful smile, "haven't you read anything in the handbook yet? Every year there's a big match between the houses and the winner gets the house cup. It's been going on since like, nineteen-twenty or something. It's to celebrate the anniversary of the end of The Great War, I think. You know, World War One? Anyway, it's a big deal here and everybody gets involved."

Matthew pondered this for a minute. Now that he thought about it, he had seen a few signs around the school about some tournament. He hadn't paid much attention to the posters, so he didn't realize that it was today. He may have even overheard people talking about it, although it had gone in one ear and out the other. He was too focused on finding his correct classes and not looking like a fool.

"I didn't know about it, what time is it?"

"It starts after lunch and goes pretty much until the end of the day. Afternoon classes are all canceled for the game. Duh, didn't you check the calendar?"

"No," Matthew said, "I was just going to my classes as if it was a regular day."

Walt grinned and rolled his eyes. He put Matthew into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles across the top of his head for a second before releasing him.

"Yeah bro, I mean, skipping half the day's classes? Of course everybody's talking about it. Seriously, I can't believe you haven't heard anything about it at all."

"Yeah, I haven't really been paying attention to other people's conversations. And nobody really talks to me that much, so 3;"

"No worries bro. Anyway, it's gonna be a lot of fun, and if you know how to play, Bear house could really use the help. Flash Vorhees from Puma house is playing; he's a monster on the field, and quick as hell. He didn't get the nickname 'Bob the Flash' for nothing."

"Bob the Flash?"

Matthew may not be good at many things, but soccer was one thing that he excelled in. Back home, he had been the attacking midfielder for his team. Whenever one of the other players didn't know what to do with the ball, they would always pass it to Matthew. He wasn't a ball hog, but he was both quick and skilled at dribbling. He hadn't had a chance to meet this 'Bob the Flash' yet, but Matthew was confident about his own soccer abilities.

"Yeah sure," he told Walt, "it sounds like fun."

"Cool, have you ever played soccer before?"

Matthew smiled inwardly. He was about to mention that he had been the star player of his team, but refrained from doing so. It would sound like bragging, and Matthew didn't like to brag. He would instead let his skills speak for themselves; plus, it might surprise some of the other kids and win him some friends if he happened to do well in the match.

"Yeah, once or twice."

"Awesome," Walt grinned, "hey, I gotta run to class. I'll see you at the game?"

"Yeah," Matthew replied, "I'll be there."

He would be there alright, and with a little luck, he may have a few new friends by this time tomorrow.

***

Miles unconsciously tapped his pen against the Masonite clipboard as he read the third and final student file, this one belonging to a fourteen-year-old student by the name of Tanner Holt. There was no incident report for the student, just a note from Mr. Daniels stating that the boy was known among the other students as the school gossip. He was due to arrive any moment now, as it was almost 10:30. If the two previous interviews were any indication of how the third was going to go, Miles didn't hold out much hope of learning anything. None of the interviewed students seemed to want to talk.

The second interview had been much like the first. Although he hadn't gotten much information about any of the incidents, Lewis Silva's interview had still piqued Miles's interest. The fifteen-year-old prefect had been tall and lanky, and seemed a little uncertain when he entered the office. His head was shaved, and his warm brown skin and dark eyes betrayed his Brazilian ethnicity. He didn't offer much, speaking only a few words when asked a question. When he sat in the chair in front of Miles's desk, he was fidgety and nervous.

When Miles asked him about Sven's alleged involvement with the damage to the planetarium, Lewis had anxiously scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat before answering. He told Miles that he was pretty sure that it had been Sven, but he might have been mistaken. He informed Miles that he didn't actually know Sven that well since they weren't from the same house. When Miles pressed him he admitted that he had only seen the perpetrator's back as he had run from the planetarium, and stressed the fact that it had been dark.

It seemed to Miles that the prefect was reciting a practiced answer, like he had been coached. Miles tried asking the same questions in different ways, hoping that the boy might slip up, but Lewis's two and three word answers didn't give him much to go on. Out of frustration, Miles cut the interview short, and when Lewis left his office, Miles noticed that Omar was waiting for Lewis in the hallway. This immediately threw up a red flag in Dunn's mind; his instinct told him that Omar had something to do with the incident, and Sven was the scapegoat. The only thing that Miles didn't get was why so many others would lie. Surely they couldn't all be scared of the overly-strict prefects, could they?

There was a knock at the door, and Miles put the clipboard down on his desk and invited the student in. The door opened, and a slightly stocky boy entered the room. His brown hair was slicked back, and his piercing brown eyes looked almost hostile beneath his thick, dark eyebrows. The boy had an upturned, 'pug' nose, and soft, large lips. Although a permanent scowl adorned his face, there was definitely a touch of beauty in it.

"Tanner Holt?" Miles asked.

The boy nodded and walked towards the desk. He plopped himself down into one of the provided chairs, slouching a little like a typical teenager. Miles introduced himself, and immediately the boy launched into an overwhelming spiel, talking fast and excitedly.

"Yeah, I know who you are, Mister Dunn. Everybody does, they've all been interested in you ever since you arrived. Most of the guys are just curious about you, but some of the prefects don't like you. Omar's one of them, he's one of the head prefects, and he's kinda like a bully. You know, like he thinks he has all this power and stuff. And he, like, uses it to boss other guys around. I remember this one time, Omar got into it with one of the other prefects, and he, like, totally went off on the guy. He was-"

Miles cleared his throat and interrupted the boy. He could see why this kid was known as the school gossip. Tanner Holt liked to hear himself talk, and this was something that Miles could use. Perhaps the entire morning wouldn't be a total waste after all.

"Tanner," he said after the boy had stopped talking, "what can you tell me about the incident involving Sven Lindquist?"

"What, Sven? Do you mean that fireworks fiasco in the planetarium? Oh yeah, I don't think he did it. I mean, I don't have any proof or anything, but I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure that he didn't do it. I would be one hundred percent, but I, like, always try to keep an open mind about things. Like when everybody said that Milo Hughes had put super glue on Mister Tools's eraser in class. He swore he didn't do it, and I was ninety-nine percent sure that he did, because that's what everybody else was saying. But it ends up that he didn't do it; one of the Edwards twins done it. That's why I always keep an open mind, you never know how things are gonna end up. That was classic too, when Mister Tools got his hand stuck to the chalkboard eraser. It was so funny, people were falling out of their chairs, laughing so hard. I remember that day was December eighteenth, because it was the first snow we had that winter. Not a huge snow, just a light dusting. You know, lotsa people don't think it snows in the south, but it does. Just not as much as up north, ya know?"

Miles felt dizzy; the boy certainly was a talker. It was as if the boy didn't have an internal monologue, and everything he thought, he said. This might not be as easy as Miles had thought, he would have to keep Tanner on track with his questions, and try to brush off all the pointless information. He would also have to do this carefully, so as not to offend the boy. One misstep, and the boy might get angry and clam up. Miles couldn't afford that; he would have to tread carefully.

"Erm 3; Tanner, who do you think set off the fireworks, if Sven didn't?"

Miles braced himself for another verbal onslaught, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Well," Tanner started, "everybody said it was Sven, but that was just at first. A few days after it happened I was in Math class, and I 3; wait, was it Math? Maybe it was History class. Oh well, it's probably not important; anyway, I overheard Patrick Muller talking to Pablo Munez, and he was, like, kind of 3; Biology! That's where I heard them!"

Tanner flashed Miles a toothy grin, seemingly proud of the fact that he had remembered which class it was. When the boy didn't continue, Miles raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, coaxing him to go on, but Tanner only blinked and looked back at him expectantly.

"You were saying," Miles prodded.

"I was?" Tanner asked, giving him a confused look.

"About what you overheard in Biology?"

"Ooooh, right! Yeah, so I was sitting in the back of Biology class; I usually sit back there so that Mister Lerher doesn't ask me any questions. I learned during my first year that if you sit closer to the front, he will choose you to answer questions, while he doesn't usually ask the people that sit in the back. Mister Cruise is the opposite; he likes to pick the guys that sit at the back of the room, because he thinks that it keeps them from slacking off."

Miles's knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands on his desk. It was all he could do to keep from jumping over the desk and wringing the boy's neck; just as the important part was coming up, Tanner's train of thought kept being derailed by random nonsense. The kid was a chatterbox and slightly scatterbrained to boot; an irritating combination. Visibly, Miles was calm and collected; the epitome of patience. But on the inside, Miles couldn't help being amused by the talkative lad.

"So what did you hear," Miles said, "between Patrick and Pablo?"

"Huh?" the boy's eyebrows furrowed, "oh, nothing much. Just that there was a rumor going around that Sven wasn't anywhere near the planetarium when the fireworks went off. He told Pablo that he didn't have any proof, but that William said that he was doing homework with Sven at that time. He said that he thought it was probably Greg and Omar that done it."

Finally, they were getting somewhere – even if it was utterly confusing. Dunn sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"So William thought that Omar and 3; Greg was it? Had set the fireworks off in the planetarium."

"Nooo," Tanner said, "Patrick thought that. William just told him that they were doing homework together, it was Patrick that said he thought Greg and Omar had something to do with it."

Miles's head swam. Talking to Tanner Holt was certainly confusing enough. It was like playing Monopoly with a lunatic; the pieces went flying everywhere, the money made no sense, and you sometimes found yourself moving backwards. Miles shook his head to clear it and tried a different approach.

"Okay, can you tell me why Patrick might think Greg and Omar did it?"

"Prob'ly because Greg and his group are always doing crap like that," Tanner said matter-of-factly, "Greg's kinda like Mister Fisher's 3; what's the word 3; protoderm? You know, like when someone kinda like, trains somebody else."

"Protégé," Miles corrected him.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. He's Mister Fisher's protégé. I thought about trying to suck up like that, but it didn't work because nobody likes me that much. They say I have a big mouth and can't keep a secret. But I can keep a secret; I mean, nobody else knows that Silvio keeps cigarettes in his underwear drawer. I found that out last year, and I've never told anybody."

Miles made a mental note never to tell Tanner Holt anything in confidence. As he jotted down what the boy said on his notepad, his curiosity was piqued by something that Tanner had mentioned.

"Greg and his group? What group is that?"

For the first time since his arrival, Tanner grew quiet. His face blushed bright red, and he fidgeted in his chair as though he was uncomfortable.

"Group? I didn't say nothin' about no group."

"Sure you did," Miles said, looking back over his notes, "regarding the fireworks incident, you said that 'Greg and his group always do crap like that'. Those are your words, not mine."

The boy's throat clicked as he swallowed. His eyes darted around the room as if looking for a way to escape. Finally, perhaps realizing that there was no way out, he started to talk again.

"Uh 3; group 3; you know, like his buddies. The guys that he hangs out with. In fact, it's really just, like, two other guys that he hangs out with. I don't even know why I said 'group'."

Obviously, Miles had struck a nerve. He wanted to pursue this further, but the boy once again started going on and on about other topics.

"Hey, are you gonna be at the soccer competition this afternoon Mister Dunn?"

"Hmm? Soccer competition?"

The boy visibly relaxed now that the topic had been changed.

"Yeah, it's like this big tournament that we have every year. All the houses, like, play each other and the winner gets the house cup. They get to display it in their common room all year long. It's not really that much of a big deal, just bragging rights really. The Pumas almost always win it anyway, and I doubt that this year will be much different. Not unless 'The Flash' gets sick or something. Speaking of sickness, didja hear about that, like, thing they got in China?"

"Thing?"

"Yeah, it's like this big huge flu or something."

"I heard Mister Fisher mention something about it during breakfast this morning," Miles said before being interrupted once again by the excitable child.

"Yeah, it's like making the whole country go crazy or something. I mean, that's what some people were saying, anyway. Like, the whole country is gonna be put on lock-down or something. I forget the name of the flu, it was some kinda Chinese name or something. But yeah, it's like, supposed to be some virus thing that is making all the people freak out. Now I don't know if this is true or not, but I heard from one of the Edwards twins 3; was it Cole or Sam? I can never remember which is which. But anyway, I heard from one of them that the virus makes people attack and eat each other. Kinda like zombies, right? I mean if you're gonna eat somebody, you must be some kinda zombie or something."

Miles checked his watch. It was almost time for lunch; Tanner had taken up the whole interview period chatting his head off. Miles liked the kid, although he could see how others might be annoyed by him. The bell rang in the quad and Tanner jumped out of his seat, surprised by the noise.

"Oh dang, it's lunch time already? Wow, fun sure flies when you're doing time. Or is that the other way around? Anyway, it was nice talking to you Mister Dunn, I hope I can come here and be interviewed again sometime. It was fun!"

Miles couldn't help grinning at the kid. He rose from his chair and shook the boy's outstretched hand. He would indeed like to interview Tanner again sometime, although hopefully next time he could be the one to lead the interview, not Tanner. He followed the boy out of the office and went downstairs towards the dining hall, Tanner walking beside him and rambling on the whole way.

***

Matthew pulled the soft material of his Umbro soccer shorts up his slender legs. Outside of his dorm, on the football field that was now being used for the soccer match, Matthew could hear the shouts of the audience as they watched the students play. The team captains barked instructions at the players, and the occasional whistle could be heard from the referees; all familiar sounds that comforted Matthew in this still unfamiliar place. He was alone in Bear dorm; everybody else was outside, watching the Pumas play against the Eagles. Bear house was slated to face the winner of the first match.

While talking to some of the other boys earlier about the tournament, Matthew had learned that Walt had only been half right. All students were allowed to play, but the team captains chose who would be put in, and for how long. The rules stated that each player had to play for at least ten minutes, but the captains could choose who would play the majority of the game, and who would be benched after their ten minutes were up. According to most of the boys, newer students rarely ever played for very long unless they were exceptionally good.

Unfortunately, Omar was the Bear team captain, and he already didn't like Matthew. There was little doubt that he would only stick Matthew into the game for ten minutes; and that wasn't really enough time to show how well he could play. No, if he wanted to really get a chance, Matthew would have to show Omar that he was exceptional before he was placed on the field. And so, Matthew came up with a little plan.

He would be 'fashionably late'; arriving just before the match started, but still early enough to be put on the roster. Because he would be near the bottom of the list, he wouldn't be put in right away. While he waited, he would practice with some of the other players. Hopefully, his moves would impress Omar so much that he would allow Matthew to play longer. Omar may not care for him, but Matthew thought that his greed would overcome his dislike for the boy.

The winner of the tournament received a small house trophy, and all the bragging rights that came with it. Puma house had won the house trophy for the last four years, and Matthew thought that Omar would leap at the chance to take that away from the Pumas, even if it meant allowing his least favorite person a chance to play.

Matthew picked his shirt off the dresser and pulled it over his head. Outside, he could hear a mixture of cheers and boos; the match between the Eagles and the Pumas had ended. Mister Daniels, the headmaster, could be heard talking through a megaphone, announcing that Puma house had won the match; five to one. The headmaster announced that there would be a short break, then the Bears would face off against the Pumas. Matthew picked up the soccer ball he had packed with him and headed for the door. It was time to play some soccer.

As he stepped out of the dorm, he looked up at the sky. It was overcast and looked like it could start raining any second, but so far there was no precipitation. Matthew was glad; he didn't feel like having to splash around in mud this afternoon. He would if he had to, but he didn't want to get his new cleats and soccer uniform all dirty.

To his right, the Bear players were warming up and the Puma players were rehydrating and resting for a few minutes before the next match started. Matthew spotted Walt and Johnny Fink practicing at one end of the Bear's bench, trying to out-deke each other. Walt looked up and waved Matthew over.

"Heya Matty!"

Matthew waved back and trotted over to the pair.

"Hey Matty McMatterson," Johnny teased, "how's it hangin'?"

"You gonna play?" Walt asked before Matthew could answer.

"Yeah," Matthew replied, "I'll give it a try."

Omar, who was standing along the sidelines with a clipboard, glanced over at the blond haired boy.

"New kid," he barked, "you're gonna be put in the third rotation. You're gonna take Johnny's spot when he gets too worn out. Think you can remember that?"

The condescension annoyed Matthew, along with the fact that Omar referred to him as 'new kid'. The prefect knew his name; he only called Matthew that to get a rise out of him. Matthew may be annoyed, but he wasn't going to take the bait. He was determined to play and he would let nothing distract him.

"Yes," he answered, "I'll remember that."

Omar looked disappointed as he turned his attention back to the clipboard. Walt rolled his eyes and grinned at Matthew.

"Hey Matt, see if you can juke me out."

Matthew put the ball down in front of his shiny new cleats. Twenty feet in front of him, Walt bent a little and lowered his hands in a goalie's stance, while Johnny backed up to watch. Matthew usually preferred to be called by his given name instead of nicknames like 'Matt' or 'Matty', although he didn't mind if it came from his friends. However, he couldn't pass up the chance for a little teasing of his own.

"Okay, tell ya what," he said as he smiled at the older boy, "if I can juke you, you gotta call me 'Matthew' from now on, instead of 'Matt' or 'Matty'."

Walt returned his grin.

"Fair enough," he said, then added, "Matty."

Matthew pushed the ball forward with his foot and started running toward Walt. Walt held his ground, keeping his eye on the ball as it came towards him. Just before he reached the older boy, Matthew feinted to the right, and as Walt leaned to nab the ball away from him, he quickly scissored the ball to the left. The quickness of the move caused Walt to stumble, tripping over his own legs and nearly losing his balance as he tried to go after the ball.

Matthew passed him, then turned around and planted his foot on the ball to steady it. He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, beaming at Walt. After regaining his composure, Walt faced Matthew and looked genuinely surprised. Beside them, Johnny was doubled over with laughter. He was guffawing so hard that tears were beginning to roll down his cheeks. When he was finally able to talk, he had to speak between his belly laughs.

"Walt! 3; You 3; you big doofus! It looked 3; looked like you nearly 3; fell on your ass!"

Walt smiled sheepishly at Matthew, while Johnny removed a small asthma inhaler from his pocket. He lifted it to his mouth and took two sharp puffs.

"Oh my God, that looked so funny," he said, still chuckling.

"So, Matty," Walt said, then corrected himself, "I mean Matthew, where did you learn to play like that?"

Matthew shrugged. It felt good to be skilled at something, but he didn't like to brag. Instead, he made a joke out of it.

"Just lucky, I guess."

"Yeah, well if your luck will hold out for a while, we might actually win this tournament."

Matthew peeked in Omar's direction, but the prefect wasn't paying attention to them. He was disappointed; he had hoped that he would have been noticed, but it hadn't worked. Maybe if he did it a few more times, the prefect would eventually take notice.

"Wanna go again?" he asked Walt.

"Nah, you're gonna make me break my ankle before the match even starts."

"Johnny?" he asked the still tittering boy.

"That's okay," Johnny answered him and motioned to Walt, "I'm not as good of a player as doofazoid here."

Matthew shrugged. The bad news was that he was going to have to come up with something else to show Omar that he was a decent player. The good news was that if the rest of the school was as bad as Walt, he would have no trouble doing just that.

On the field, the ref, Mr. Cruise, blew a whistle.

"Two minutes," he yelled.

The two teams closed together into separate huddles. As the team captains went over the plays with the players, Matthew caught sight of Mr. Dunn across the field. He was sitting at the top of the bleachers, next to Mr. Fisher. Matthew waved at him, but he didn't notice. His attention was brought back to the huddle when he heard his name mentioned.

"You should give Matthew a better position, he's really good," Walt was telling Omar.

"No, he's a first year so I'm putting him in as a full-back. He can go in for his ten minutes once Wheezy gets too tired."

Beside Walt, Johnny visibly bristled at the derogatory nickname. Walt put his hand on Johnny's shoulder to calm him and tried again.

"But Matthew's good, you oughta see him play."

"I don't care," Omar said stubbornly, "I don't wanna watch the little prick play. He's new here and he's gonna sit out until his turn comes, then he's gonna play full-back for exactly ten minutes. Unless he magically becomes as good as Messi, he's gonna suck it up and deal with it."

Walt gave Matthew an apologetic look. Matthew closed his eyes and subtlety nodded at Walt. Omar wasn't going to give him a chance, so he was just going to have to prove that he was good. The huddle broke up and the players took the bench, waiting for the game to begin.

Thirty seconds later, the ref blew the whistle and the headmaster announced the teams. The opening players took their positions on the field, and after a brief talk with the team leaders, the whistle was blown and the match started. The Pumas quickly took possession of the ball and within seconds, the Bears were desperately playing defense. Matthew could see that the Bear players were easily outmatched by the Puma players; they were simply too slow. Walt nudged him with his elbow and pointed to the player that was currently outmaneuvering two of the Bear's defensive players.

"See that kid with the ball? That's the Flash. He's probably the best player in the school."

Matthew studied the boy carefully. Bob 'the Flash' looked to be about the same age as Matthew. He had a slim, athletic build and raven black hair. As Matthew watched, the boy easily juked one of the center-backs with a simple cut and kicked the ball past the goalkeeper and into the back of the net. As the Flash did a quick victory lap, the majority of the audience cheered. Omar stamped his foot in frustration and shouted orders at the players.

Now's as good a time as any, Matthew thought as he rose from the bench. He picked up his ball and walked a few feet over, until he was in the threshold of Omar's view. Then, he tossed the ball lightly into the air and kicked it back upward. The ball caught a backspin off his foot and bounced a couple of feet up into the air. When it came back down, Matthew caught it with his knee, bouncing it back up. He continued to juggle the ball this way, using both feet, his knees, and occasionally his head.

After his twentieth juggle, he began to hear murmurs from the bench. He risked a quick glance towards Omar, and noticed that the prefect was watching him. Matthew continued doing this until he had about fifty juggles, then he kicked the ball up high and quickly leaned forward, catching the ball on the back of his neck. He balanced it there for a few seconds, then thrust his upper body back to launch the ball up into the air. As it came down, he again caught it with his foot and began juggling it some more.

The quiet talking from the Bear bench was growing louder. Matthew could hear some of the boys saying things like "wow, look at him go," and "damn, he's good". He smiled inwardly, hopefully some of the other players would start to put pressure on Omar to give him a better position. He wasn't trying to show off; he was beginning to like being a member of Bear house and he really wanted to help his team win. He could only do that if he had a better position on the field, one that would give him a chance to score a few goals for his team.

Well, perhaps he was showing off a little, but could anybody blame him? The only friends he had made so far at this school were his three misfit roommates and the new security guy. Matthew wasn't exactly Joe Popular, and he hoped that by using his skills on the field he might be able to win a few more friends. It might not the best way of doing things, but it was all he had at this point.

"Omar, lookit the new kid," Matthew overheard one boy say, "he's pretty good."

"Come on, Omar, put him in a better position," another boy said.

After a few more voiced their opinions, Omar finally called Matthew over.

"New kid, come here."

Matthew caught the ball in midair with his hands and calmly walked over to the prefect. Omar was looking at him as though he were a disgusting cockroach, but at least he seemed to recognize his talent.

"Are you actually any good, or you just showin' off?"

"I think I'm pretty good," Matthew said politely.

"If I put you in a better position, are ya gonna piss around and screw up this game?"

Not any worse than it's already going, Matthew thought but didn't say. Instead, he tried to sound neutral, like he was all business.

"No, I won't screw up. If you give me a chance I'll get at least one goal for us."

Omar appeared to be thinking it over. The rest of the benched boys began coaxing and trying to persuade him. Finally, Omar crossed something off on the clipboard and began writing on it. Then, he looked up at Matthew and pointed to a skinny boy with glasses that was playing one of the forward positions.

"Awright, fuck it. When needlenose out there comes in, you take his place as a forward."

Matthew couldn't help grinning. He had not only won this small battle of wills, but he was also being handed the chance to prove his worth. Now all he had to do was play well and help them even the score. Of all the games he had played in the past, this one was the most important so far; he had to help his team out and show that he was a valuable asset.

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't make me regret this, new kid," Omar said threateningly.

"I won't."

Still smiling happily, Matthew turned and took a seat on the bench. Some of the other boys surrounded him and clapped him on the back. Walt stepped in behind him and pretended to massage his shoulders.

"Loosen up there, champ, you got a game to win."

"Stop rubbin' his shoulders," Johnny chimed in with a grin, "yer gonna freak him out so much he's gonna forget how to play."

"Aww, shaddap Johnny-boy."

No matter how hard he tried, Matthew was unable to wipe the smile from his face. Things were finally beginning to look up for him.

-

"New kid, you're up."

Matthew hopped up from the bench and jogged onto the field. The Bears had only managed to score one goal and were down by three points. Luckily, Bob the Flash was the only player that Matthew was really worried about, and he was currently benched. As he trotted past Omar, the prefect shot him a dirty look.

"Don't fuck this up, new kid."

Matthew acknowledged the comment with an air salute and took his place on the field. While he waited for the ref to blow the whistle, he did a few stretches. He certainly didn't want to cramp up in the middle of the match.

The ball had been kicked out of play by the Pumas when Omar had called Matthew, and now Johnny was on the sidelines, preparing to throw the ball onto the field. The whistle was sounded by the ref, and Johnny took a few strides and threw the ball towards Matthew. Unfortunately, Johnny's aim was a little off and one of the Pumas managed to get the ball before Matthew could touch it. Groans erupted from the Bear bench and Johnny blushed, looking embarrassed.

Quickly, Matthew charged after the Puma player. Coming up to him from an angle, Matthew waited until the Puma had crossed into the defensive zone, then dropped and did a slide tackle. The ball was picked up by one of the Bear players, who quickly passed the ball back to Matthew once he was back up on his feet. Matthew ran towards the Puma goal, doing a roulette around one of the oncoming Puma players.

As he crossed into the offensive zone, he passed the ball to one of the forwards, motioning towards the goal with his eyes. The Bear player took notice of it and dribbled the ball up the right side of the field, while Matthew continued at top speed up the left side of the field. The goalkeeper's attention was focused on the player with the ball, and just before the player reached the penalty area, he passed the ball back to Matthew, who was at the goal line.

The pass was high and fast and was heading for Matthew's shoulders. Matthew quickly ducked a little, then sprang up and forwards to meet the ball with his head. It deflected off Matthew's head and the goalkeeper leaped to the side, a little too late to keep the ball from going into the top corner of the goal. The crowd in the stands and the players on the Bear's bench exploded into a round of cheers. Not a bad first goal, Matthew thought as he raised his arms in victory. The other Bear players on the field crowded around him and clapped him on the back.

***

Who is that new kid, Bob thought as he sat on the bench, anxiously watching the game, he's really good. The thought made him a little nervous; up until now, he had always been among the top soccer players on the campus, if not the best outright. He could run faster than anybody on the field, and dribble the ball like nobody's business. Suddenly, there was a new contender to the throne – some 3; new kid.

He hadn't been paying too much attention when the boy took the field; he had been getting a drink of Gatorade. He turned back to the game just before the boy had made the header goal. Bob thought that it had just been luck, but now he knew better. The ball was placed back in the center and as soon as play started, the new kid block tackled the ball from the forward and began running through the center zone. He faked out an oncoming defender with a roll heel, then quickly passed the ball to another forward. Bob's heart skipped a beat when the Bear forward kicked the ball towards the goal, but luckily it went wide, skimming the goal post as it went out of bounds.

The ball was thrown back into play, and almost immediately Matthew once again took possession of the ball, this time with a slide tackle. Yeah, he's really good, Bob thought. Out of frustration he could barely keep himself seated on the bench; he needed to get back into the game and help his team out! He looked up at the captain who shook his head and pointed to his watch. Bob would just have to wait until the relief's ten minutes were up.

There was almost another goal that was set up by the new kid, but fortunately for the Pumas, the player that the new kid had passed the ball to wasn't any good at scoring. The goalkeeper easily scooped up the pathetic kick and threw the ball back into play. Bob could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His team, which was usually pretty good, was suddenly being outmaneuvered by the new kid at almost every turn. What's more, the new kid was pointing out positions to the other Bear players so that they could better defend their zone. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

The ball was kicked out of play by one of the Pumas, and the Bears threw the ball in. As predicted, it was thrown directly to the new kid, who started running down towards the Puma goal. By this time, the Puma players had caught on that this new player was a force to be reckoned with, and two defenders came at him, one from the front and one from the side. The players closed in on the running boy, and to Bob's amazement, the new kid spun around the ball, kicked it with his heel and continued on down the field, leaving the two defenders in his wake.

Bob felt his jaw drop. The new kid had pulled off a roulette, one of the trickiest moves in the game! Seeing nobody to pass too, the new kid ran straight towards the goal and launched it. The goalkeeper sprang to the right too late, and the ball blasted into the back of the net. As the Bear players crowded around Matthew and the audience cheered, Bob looked up at his captain. The prefect looked back at him and nodded; whether the relief's time was up or not, Bob was going back in.

The ball was placed back in the center and the Pumas took possession. Now that Bob was back on the field, the ball was quickly passed to him. Now I just gotta watch out for that new kid, he thought, but as he looked up, he didn't see the new kid anywhere. Perhaps he had been benched? Bob started down the field, but was surprised when the ball was slide tackled from behind. He turned in time to see the new kid quickly recover and speed after the loose ball.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He had let his guard down and lost possession of the ball, all because of a simple slide tackle. He could feel his face flush in embarrassment as he hurried after the new kid. That was stupid of me, I gotta get some dignity back! Running solely on the balls of his feet, he quickly gained ground on the boy. The kid had nobody to pass to, and would have to take the shot himself. Bob didn't have much time left, so he ran faster than he ever had before, and just before the kid took the shot, Bob dropped into a slide tackle.

He felt a sharp pain in his thigh and let out a strangled yelp as the new kid kicked the ball. It sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net, bringing loud cheers from the bleachers. The score was now tied. Bob lay on the ground for a minute, holding his thigh. He could hear the ref blow the whistle, indicating an injured player on the field. He had landed wrong and his thigh was sore, but he could walk it off. He waved off the ref and was about to rise from the ground when a shadow fell over him.

"Hey, you okay?"

Bob opened his eyes and looked up to see the new kid standing over him with his hand outstretched. What was this, the boy was trying to help him? The gesture surprised Bob; any other Bear student would be glad that the best player on the opposing team had been injured. Instead, this new kid was offering him help.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Bob took the boy's hand, and the new kid helped to pull him to his feet. Then, the boy helped to brush him off – another thing that took Bob by surprise.

"Thanks," he said.

"I'm Matthew," the new kid replied, looking at him innocently.

"Bob, but people call me 'the Flash'."

"Yeah, I know," Matthew said with a smile, "I heard you were the best player here."

"I am 3; er, I was 3; that is 3; well, you're pretty good."

"Thanks," Matthew said, "I was watching you from the sidelines and I knew that you favored the spot to the left of our goal. I just had to wait for you to go there."

"Yeah, and I noticed you like to slide tackle."

Matthew chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. The kid seemed genuinely nice, and Bob found that he actually liked him. He had been the best player for so long, that it would be nice to have a challenge again. From the sidelines, the ref came running up to them.

"You good, Bob?"

"Yeah, I can walk it off."

"Alright, do you need to sit out for a minute?"

"Naw, I'm good."

"Okay," the ref said and turned to start the game back up.

"Hey Bob," Matthew said with a grin, "see if you can keep up."

"Don't worry about me," Bob returned the smile, "you just worry about yourself."

***

Miles was seated beside Carl Fisher in the top tier of the bleachers. The sensation of the grooved aluminum bench beneath him brought back memories of his childhood; memories of baseball games and warm summer evenings. The sound of boys voices, both high and low pitched, rang in his ears and fed his feelings of nostalgia.

Speaking of boys, there was more than enough eye candy on the field. All of those soft, smooth boy legs running around in the short soccer bottoms. Miles had temporarily given up on keeping such thoughts out of his head and was merely enjoying the view. After all, simply looking at boys in their soccer uniforms wasn't hurting anything, right?

Miles found his little buddy, Matthew, who was currently trying to fake out one of the Puma players. The dark-haired Puma kid blocked the trick that Matthew attempted, and the ball rolled out of bounds. Matthew had certainly surprised Miles; the kid that had seemed so timid was a master on the field. He was fast, quick-thinking, and able to keep control of the soccer ball, and in the skimpy soccer uniform, the boy was simply breathtaking.

The Puma player that had blocked Matthew's trick seemed to be evenly matched. The two appeared to be competing with each other, albeit in a friendly manner. If Miles didn't know better, he would have sworn that the two rivals were actually smiling as they tried to outmaneuver each other. Both boys looking stunning and graceful as they dribbled the ball around the field, feinting and spinning around like a pair of birds, soaring through the wind. It almost looked as though they were engaged in some form of intricate dance; one leading with the ball while the other fought to take it from him, then the roles switching. Miles had never been much of a soccer fan before, but the sight was marvelous to watch.

While watching the boys in their complex revelry, Miles had the funny feeling of being watched. He could almost feel a pair of eyes boring into him. He turned and saw that it was Carl who was doing the staring. Miles suddenly felt ashamed, as though he had been caught doing something naughty.

"Good game, huh?" Carl said as a subtle smile danced upon his lips.

"Uh 3; yeah, it sure is."

"Master Perry is quite the player, isn't he?"

Again, Miles felt guilty, like Carl had somehow been able to read his thoughts.

"Yep, he's got a lotta moves, that's for sure."

"Before today, I would have placed my money on Master Vorhees, if I was a gambling man. But young Perry has turned out to be quite the 3; jaw-dropping player, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, he's very good."

An odd look flashed across Carl's face, and although it was only there for a split second, Miles thought he could almost see hunger in the man's eyes.

"What do you think of Master Perry?"

"What do I think? I don't know what you-"

"What are your impressions of him? I haven't had the honor of meeting the child yet, but you shared a car ride with him. What do you think of him?"

Miles thought for a moment. What did this all mean? Had he actually seen that strange look in Carl's eyes, or had he just imagined it? Was the older man implying something here, or was Miles's own secret desires causing him to read too much into a simple question? It seemed so confusing, and Miles found himself wishing that he had sat beside somebody else.

"I dunno 3; he seems like an average kid I guess. He seems pretty well-mannered; a little lonely maybe, but what kid wouldn't feel that way at a new school?"

"Lonely, hmm?"

A faraway look clouded Carl's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with his usual affable smile.

"Yes, I guess he would feel a little lonely at that, wouldn't he? But I'm sure he will make friends quickly, especially with the soccer skills he seems to possess. Yes, I'm sure he will have plenty of friends in no time at all."

I must be reading too much into it, Miles thought. The older teacher was only trying to look after one of his students, that was all. It was his job to make the kids feel welcome, wasn't it? Miles agreed with Carl and gave the man a tight-lipped smile before returning his attention to the soccer game. Only this time, he tried to keep his focus on the soccer ball and not the players in their skimpy soccer shorts.

***

Matthew was having a blast. In the midst of the game, all the worry and nervousness he had been holding on to over the past few days seemed to slip away. Bob 'the Flash' was a worthy opponent, and the two were having fun trying to deke each other. During the short match they seemed to have formed a strong bond, like magnets and iron. Even though they had just met, it was like they were kindred spirits, having known each other for ages.

Matthew could almost sense what move Bob was going to try next, and was always right there to block it. Bob would chuckle and give him a playful little grin, then would do the same to Matthew. They looked different; Matthew being blond and fair-skinned while Bob had dark hair and tanned skin, but beneath the surface they seemed to be cut from the same mold. Matthew had made a few friends with his roommates, but none of those had formed as quickly and strongly as his new friendship with Bob, with only a few words exchanged.

***

Bob glanced up at the clock on the large scoreboard that stood between the player's benches, and realized that there was only five minutes left in the game. When he had first witnessed Matthew play, he had disliked the boy. He was supposed to be the best Soccer player, it wasn't supposed to be the new kid! But Matthew wasn't like most of the other guys he knew. Any other student would boast about scoring a goal on "the Flash", but Matthew didn't. He had been modest about the goal, and had even helped Bob up when he was down. At that point, he could tell that Matthew was a true sportsman, and a nice guy.

As the game went on, Bob's demeanor changed. Normally, he was competitive to the point that he wouldn't appreciate the game; it was all about winning and being the best player on the field. But now that he had met his match, he was truly enjoying himself. It felt like he had rediscovered the sport, once again seeing it with fresh eyes. He didn't feel cutthroat anymore, and he didn't even care about winning. All that mattered was that he was having fun with a new friend.

All around the field, the audience was going wild. Both team captains stood on the sidelines shouting orders at the players. The score was tied, five to five, with just under two minutes left of play time. Bob looked at the two teams on their respective benches and laughed inwardly. At any other time, he would have felt sick from the stress of trying to break the tie. But today, it all seemed so silly. It was a game, after all, they were supposed to be having fun.

And fun was just what Bob was having. He still would like to win the tournament, but if his team didn't, it wouldn't be the end of the world. The thought almost made him laugh out loud; if anybody had told him that a half hour ago, he would have thought they were insane. His whole outlook had changed in the course of that one match, and he had Matthew to thank for it.

The ball was passed to him, and he began running up the field. He kept an eye out for the slide tackle from behind, and was surprised by Matthew's block tackle from the side. Sneaky little bastard, he thought cheerfully as he turned around and chased after Matthew. Bob caught up with him just as Matthew was about to kick a corner shot. As Matthew swept his leg back for the kick, Bob stole the ball from him, kicking it out of bounds.

"Lose something?" he teased as Matthew turned and looked surprised.

"Yeah, it's a good thing I took my time or you might not have stopped me from making that goal," Matthew teased back with a cheesy grin.

Bob smiled and shook his head as Matthew ran to retrieve the ball from the ref. It felt so good to not stress over a soccer match for once; so free. As Matthew threw the ball back into play, Johnny Fink took possession and quickly lost it to one of the Puma players. The look on Johnny's face was so comical, that Matthew laughed out loud as he ran past Bob.

"Well I'm glad you're having such a splendid time, dorkasaurus," Johnny yelled after Matthew.

Bob glanced at the clock again as he caught up with Matthew. Thirty seconds left until the match ended.

"Hey, should we make one last go?" he asked his new friend.

"Sure, why not?"

Bob broke from his position and ran down the center of the field, waving his arm at William, who was currently in possession of the ball. William passed him the ball and he turned to face Matthew. They headed for each other, and just before they met, Bob chose his move. He figured that Matthew would assume a fancy final trick, so he instead chose something simple; a basic cut. The move worked perfectly, and Bob sped around Matthew and raced towards the goal. Faintly, he could hear Matthew's footsteps behind him as he raced down the field. From the bleachers, the crowd started the final countdown, shouting out the last ten seconds of the game.

"Ten 3; nine 3; eight 3; seven 3;"

Bob ran for the goal, keeping his head focused on the upper-left corner. He could hear his teammates screaming at him over the pounding of his own heartbeat. At the five second mark, he put on a final burst of speed, closing the small gap between himself and the goal. He raised his foot back to kick the ball as the crowd shouted the last second and 3;

Matthew once again slide tackled him from behind.

The ref blew the whistle and the game ended in a tie. Bob turned around to face Matthew and slung his arm around the boy's shoulders. Matthew did the same and they smiled at each other.

"Good game, bro," Matthew told him.

"Yeah, definitely," he said, trying to catch his breath.

"You sure got me on that last cut, I thought you were going to do something real fancy."

"I know, that's why I cut. By the way, you gotta teach me how to do that Maradona roulette."

The boys returned to their team benches to line up and perform the post-game handshake. The Puma captain was furious, but Bob didn't care. He had had fun and made a new friend, and that was all that mattered. Besides, the Pumas could still win the tournament. The Bears now had to play against the Eagles, and if the Bears won, it would be a tie and the the game would go into a shootout to determine the winning team.

Bob didn't think it would come to that though. Each win counted as a point; right now the Pumas had two and the Bears had one. The Bears would be tired from the last game, but if their captain put Matthew in for most of it, the Bears would probably win, giving them the point needed to tie with the Pumas. Regardless of what happened, Bob didn't care. The Pumas had won the tournament every year for the past four years, perhaps it was time for another team to take the trophy. Matthew had proven himself on the soccer field, and if any house deserved the trophy, Bob thought it should be the Bears.

***

After the game had ended, Miles climbed down off the bleachers. There was to be a short break before the Bears faced the Eagles, and Miles had to take a piss before the next match started. As he made his way across the field, he heard a familiar, high-pitched voice calling after him.

"Mister Dunn!"

He turned to see Matthew running towards him, waving his hand. Behind Matthew was the Puma player that had been competing with him. Both wore smiles on their faces and as they approached, they slung their arms around each other's shoulders.

"Hey Matthew, that was some pretty fancy footwork out there."

"Thanks," the boy smiled and blushed slightly, "this is Bob. They call him the Flash because he's so fast. He's my new friend and I wanted to introduce him to you."

"Hey," the boy said in a naturally hoarse voice, "nice ta meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Miles said and shook the boy's hand.

Although they both had the same type of build and similar haircuts, the boys were different in almost every other way. Both highly attractive, Bob's dark colored hair was contrary to Matthew's blond. Bob was more tanned than Matthew, and had dark eyes instead of blue. His features were sharper; almost elvish looking. Miles couldn't stop himself from glancing down at the slender legs and the small bulge in the soccer shorts before quickly lifting his eyes back up to the boy's face.

"I'm glad that you're making friends," he said, turning back to Matthew, "I knew you would."

"Thanks," Matthew said, gracing him with a boyish smile.

Before Miles could say anything further, Carl Fisher stepped beside him and spoke.

"Ahh, there are the two young bucks. Excellent game, Master Vorhees, you played well, as usual. And young Master Perry, you too played exceptionally well this afternoon."

The boys thanked Carl, although Miles thought he noticed a look of hostility flash in Bob's eyes. Miles thought he could understand, he tried to get along with everybody and give each person a fair chance, but he was beginning to dislike Carl. The man reminded him of a used car salesman; cordial and polite to your face, but slimy underneath. Miles couldn't quite put his finger on it yet, but something seemed a little fishy about the man.

"Bob," said Matthew, "Mister Dunn was my first real friend here. He's a grownup and all, but he's really cool. He used to be in the Army and he knows lots about horses too."

"Marines," Miles corrected the boy.

"Yeah, sorry. Marines."

Bob turned his attention back to Miles, and the look of animosity vanished, replaced with a look of curiosity and awe.

"You were in the Marines?" he asked, "wow, that's pretty chill. What did you do there? Did you get to shoot any guns?"

Miles chuckled at the boy's blunt inquisitiveness. He knew that some of the boys would probably take an interest in his military background, he just wondered how he would answer the question that he knew would eventually be asked; had he killed anyone. He wasn't sure how he would handle that question. He didn't want to lie to the students, but it wasn't something that he thought should be openly discussed with them. Luckily, he was safe so far.

"Well, I was a Major with the Sixth Marine Regiment. I was in the infantry, so yes, I did get to carry and shoot some guns."

"Cool, did you ever get to shoot a bazooka?"

Miles laughed. Ah, the things that boys will come up with.

"You mean the SMAW. Nope, never had a chance to fire one."

Once again, Carl interrupted them.

"Now boys, I don't believe that all this talk about guns is appropriate and I'm sure Mister Dunn doesn't want to go on discussing every little detail with you all. Some things may be personal, and it isn't right for you to question him like that."

He had been looking at the boys as he said this, but then he turned his head to look directly at Miles.

"After all, the military is known for going off to war, and I don't believe the details about such things are something to be discussed among young boys at Saint Xavier's."

The boys looked disappointed and while Carl's focus was on Miles, Bob shot him another dirty look. Miles was also a little taken aback by the statement. Boys were curious creatures, and although he had no intention of giving them any gruesome details about his time in the Middle East, he felt that discussing his time with the military wasn't a negative thing. Still, he knew that it was best to show solidarity between the teachers, and he didn't want to piss off the upper echelon.

"Mister Fisher's right boys, besides, you would probably find it all boring."

He turned to face Carl.

"After all, I couldn't tell you much more than you would learn in your History class."

There, that felt better. He had shown that he was in agreement with the older teacher, but he also managed to get his own little dig in. The more he thought about it, the less he cared for Carl. It also seemed as though many of the students didn't care much for the man, either. Unfortunately, Carl had tenure and a long history with the school, while Miles was the outsider. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get the last word in.

Fortunately, Carl either didn't recognize the remark as disrespectful; or if he had, he hid the anger from his eyes. He gave Miles a slight smile and a curt nod, and then turned back to the two boys.

"Why don't you two run along now? Master Perry, I believe that your house will be playing Eagle in about ten minutes, it might be wise to prepare for the game. And now if you will excuse me, I have a little business to attend to before the next match."

Carl gave them all another polished smile and turned towards the stone steps that led back up to the main campus. Miles also smiled at the two boys before heading towards Bear house. He would have loved nothing more than to stay and chat with the two beauties, but his bladder was begging to be relieved and he thought it would be wiser to heed Carl's advice 3; at least for the time being.

***

Carl took the steps two at a time. He was pissed about the snide little comment that Dunn had made, implying that there was nothing more violent in his past than what the students could read about in their History textbooks. Fucking braggart. The way that adorable Matthew Perry seemed to hold Dunn in such high regard made Carl sick to his stomach. If only the boy knew the sort of things that the new head of security had been through in his past, he might not hold the man in such esteem.

Carl had been doing some digging on 'Mister' Dunn earlier that afternoon. The man had been deployed with the 1st Battalion, 6th Marines to Ramadi in September of 2006. During November of that same year over thirty civilians, including women and children, had been killed by U.S. Coalition forces. Although many of them had been killed during airstrikes, an LA Times correspondent had supported eyewitness statements that some of the deaths had been caused by on ground fighting. Two weeks later, six more civilians had been killed when a U.S. tank fired into a house containing insurgents.

In April of 2008, Dunn had been deployed with the 1/6 to the Helmand Province in Afghanistan. Six months later, eighteen civilians from five families had been killed by U.S. forces. For his part in the Battle of Ramadi, and the Helman Province campaign, Dunn had been awarded two Bronze Stars. Dunn may or may not have pulled the trigger on any one of those civilian casualties, but regardless, he had been a senior officer. He was just as guilty of what the military liked to call "collateral damage" as the ones that had done the actual shooting.

Carl angrily pursed his lips as he stormed between the basketball courts and headed towards the second set of steps. The boys certainly won't learn any of that in their History books. The thought of having a killer on the campus made Carl's blood boil. A man that had slaughtered other people and been recognized as a hero by millions, while intelligent teachers like Carl were on the lower end of the totem pole. Any half-wit can pull a trigger, it takes a real man to teach.

Carl found Matthew to be one of the most exquisite boys at St. Xavier, and he wanted the boy for the club. It infuriated him that Matthew was so close with the ignorant Dunn. Carl would have to get the man under his thumb somehow, and the best way he knew how to do that was through blackmail. He would have to get Anthony to set the plan in motion, today.

He found the boy in Eagle house, dressing in his soccer uniform for the next game. After looking up and down the hallway to make sure there were no other students around, Carl went into the boy's room and shut the door behind him.

"Hello Anthony, are you ready for the match?"

"Yes, sir," the boy answered him as he sat on the bed to tie his shoe.

Carl walked over to him and placed his hands on the boy's cheeks, lifting Anthony up for a kiss. The boy returned the kiss and Carl dropped his hand down into the boy's shorts, where he rubbed the boy's flaccid penis with his palm.

"Do you recall that mission I had for you, Anthony?"

"Yeah," Anthony said.

"It's 'yes', not 'yeah'," Carl corrected him.

"Yes, sir."

"Much better," he said as he kissed the boy again, "I want you to take care of that today. As soon as you find an opportunity. In fact, an inspiration came to me during the previous game; when Master Vorhees took that spill."

The boy looked up at him blankly. Carl sighed, evidently he would have to spell it out for the beautiful yet dimwitted child.

"Anthony, I want you to fake a cramp during the next match. Act injured, and I'll request that Mister Dunn escort you to the infirmary. On the way there, make an excuse to stop by the locker rooms. Ask Mister Dunn to take a look at your leg, maybe even ask him to massage it a little. You should know what to do from there, correct?"

"Yes sir," Anthony said, understanding what was being implied.

"When you are finished, I want you to come back and report to me. We'll approach Mister Dunn together and give him an ultimatum."

"Ult 3; ultimatum?"

God, the boy was so sexy when he looked confused; the way those delicate eyebrows pushed together, the questioning look in those beautiful pale blue eyes. Carl pulled the boy's shorts and boxers down and fiddled with the boy's cock. It started to stiffen, and he quickly stopped and pulled the shorts back up. He would have loved a quickie right then, but the game was due to start in a few minutes and he had more pressing issues to worry about right now.

"Yes, we're going to make Dunn an offer. He will either take orders from me, or we will take the matter to the headmaster where he will face the consequences for his 3; actions."

"But you do those actions too," Anthony said as he stared up at Carl.

Beautiful, but not very bright.

"That's true, but Mister Dunn and Mister Daniels don't know that, do they?"

"No sir."

He embraced the boy for a moment and kissed him on top of his head.

"I am fairly certain that Mister Dunn will take the bait you present to him," Carl said as he reached down to give Anthony's penis a small squeeze, "after all, who could refuse such a delicate flower such as you? Once you are finished we can use that to get him to go along with us. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Better hurry and finish dressing. After this little matter with Dunn is over with, I would like you to stop by my room. Tonight, after the others are asleep."

"I will, sir."

Carl kissed the boy one last time and slapped the firm young ass. Then, he turned and left the room.

***

"Reid, you're up."

Anthony looked up at the Eagle captain from his place on the bench. He rose and walked over to the older prefect who was holding a clipboard.

"What position do you want me to take?"

"Take motormouth's spot as a winger."

Anthony hurried onto the field, passing Tanner Holt as he took his position.

"Hey Anthony," Tanner said and waved.

"Hey Tanner."

"Good luck out there bro, that new kid is crazy good. Didja see that tackle he made when I had the ball? I got it and I was running for the goal when all of a sudden-"

"TANNER!" the captain yelled from the sidelines, "GET OFF THE FIELD!"

"Sorry, gotta go. I'll tell ya all about it later in the dorm."

Anthony sighed; he knew that Tanner meant what he said. He was going to have to hear every little detail about the play, as well as several other sidetracked stories that had little to do with the game itself. Afterwards, once everybody was asleep, he would have to sneak to Mr. Fisher's room for a midnight affair. This meant that he would be exhausted the following morning from the lack of sleep. It was going to be a long evening. As the game started, he shook those ideas from his head. He had to concentrate on the task at hand instead of worrying about the next day.

Anthony was proud of the fact that he was Mr. Fisher's pawn in such an important plan. He wasn't really that interested in having sex with Mr. Dunn, but he was used to being fucked by now, and Mr. Fisher would be pleased. Maybe the older teacher would even reward him with a pass for some of the morning classes so that he could sleep in. The thought of half a day's worth of rest was worth a little ass-banging.

All he had to do was to get possession of the ball, and get himself into a position so that the new kid could slide tackle him. Then, he would go down hard and wait for everything to unfold. He just had to make it look convincing enough so that none of the other players would suspect anything. Seems easy enough, right?

Unfortunately, it was not quite so simple. He spent the first half of his allotted ten minutes chasing after the ball, trying desperately to take possession of it. When he was passed the ball, he was tackled from the front, which didn't work. He couldn't fake being injured if he hadn't even been touched, it would look ridiculous. He spent another three minutes trying to get himself into an open position so that he could be passed the ball, but it never came his way.

With two minutes left to put his plan into action, Anthony panicked. He broke away from his position, ignoring the yells from the team captain, and ran up the center of the field. He waved his arms as he ran, hollering that he was open. Lewis Silva, who had possession of the ball, finally took notice of him and passed him the ball. Anthony quickly glanced around, noticing that Matthew was directly behind him and heading his way, and took off towards the goal.

He ran as slowly as he could without being too obvious, and within seconds he heard Matthew's footsteps behind him. Another Eagle player off to his right yelled at him to 'pass it, the new kid is right behind you', but Anthony paid him no attention. As he neared the goal, he sensed Matthew's leg sweeping in front of him and as he lost possession of the ball, he took a huge dive; one that would have made Brazil's Neymar proud.

Anthony pitched forward and rolled, somersaulting clumsily onto his back. As he let out a yelp of pain, he grabbed hold of his lower leg. Through squinted eyes, he looked up into the stands and saw that Mr. Fisher was looking right at him. Good, he thought, hopefully everything works out right.

"Hey, you okay?"

The new kid had turned around and was standing over him, holding out his hand to help him up.

"Ahh, no. My leg."

The ref blew the whistle, and Matthew knelt down beside him.

"Dang, I'm sorry. How bad is it?"

Dammit new kid, go away!

"It hurts," he moaned, "I think I gotta cramp."

The referee ran up to him and asked if he was alright. Anthony moaned as if he were in agony and rocked side-to-side on his back, holding his shin. He noticed Mr. Fisher hurrying down the bleachers and running across the field towards him. Three other teachers were also heading his way, including Mr. Dunn. Perfect, he thought as he moaned again.

"Are you alright, Master Reid? Do you need to go to the nurse's office?"

"Ahh, yeah 3; I-I think so."

"I'll take him," volunteered the new kid, "I was the one that hurt him."

Goddammit, new kid! Mind your own fucking business!

"Thank you, Master Perry, but that's quite unnecessary. Our head of security here will be able to escort him."

Mr. Dunn looked surprised.

"Me?"

"Yes," Mr. Fisher nodded, "if that isn't too much to ask."

The new kid once again interjected.

"Honestly, I don't mind. I was the one that injured him, I should take him."

"No Perry," Mr. Fisher said coldly, then softened again, "your place is here on the field. Mister Dunn will be happy to take him to the infirmary."

"Uh 3; sure," Mr. Dunn stuttered.

The large, muscular man bent and helped get Anthony to his feet. Mr. Dunn put his arm around his shoulders, and Anthony leaned against him for support, putting his own arm around the man's waist. Together they headed towards the stone steps, Anthony hobbling and limping pitifully. From behind them, Anthony heard the captain discussing who would take the penalty kick.

"Tanner, you're up. Take Anthony's penalty kick for him."

"Seriously?! Me? Wow, I've never taken a penalty kick before. I almost got to one time last year when I was kicked in the butt cheek by Johnny Fink, but then the ref decided-"

"Tanner! Shaddap and take the kick!"

Anthony and Miles mounted the stairs, taking them slowly so that Anthony could hop up each step on one foot. They reached the apex and as they walked between the gym and indoor swimming pool, Anthony began phase two of his scheme.

"Muh 3; Mister Dunn?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Can we stop by the locker room real quick? I'm real thirsty and I wanna get my water bottle out of my locker."

"Um, yeah sure."

They turned left and walked to the gym, Mr. Dunn holding the door open for Anthony to limp through. Once inside, they crossed the full-sized basketball court and headed for the stairs between the bleachers that led down to the locker rooms.

Anthony sat on the metal bench that ran down the center of the room. He could faintly hear the steady dripping sound that came from one of the shower heads. Mr. Dunn stood back and looked around the room, probably scanning for his locker.

"Which one's yours?" he asked.

"Ah, shit," the boy suddenly exclaimed as he lay the ground, "my leg really hurts, do you think you can look at it?"

Mr. Dunn hesitated and looked down at him.

"Uh 3; well I'm not a medic, I think it would be better if the nurse took a look at your leg."

"Please, it hurts pretty bad. It's my thigh, I think it's cramped, can you take a look at it?" He insisted with a grimace of pain.

Mr. Dunn bent down to look at Anthony's thigh. Anthony took his hands away from his shin and placed them on either side of the bench. Leaning over it, Mr. Dunn looked over his hairless leg. He placed one of his calloused hands on the shin and gently patted it.

"Does that hurt?"

"AH! Yeah it does. But it's mostly the thigh now. I think if you just massage it a little I can make it to the infirmary."

Mr. Dunn looked a bit apprehensive, but he obliged. Taking Anthony's leg in his large calloused hands, the slowly started to rub the soft muscles, moving reluctantly upwards. Anthony grabbed hold of one of the man's hands and slid it up to his smooth thigh.

"Wait, not so fast. What are you-"

Anthony continued to move Mr. Dunn's hand up until it was over his crotch. Mr. Dunn froze, a look of utter shock in his eyes. Anthony held the large hand there, while he used his other hand to push down the front of his shorts, revealing his semi-hard penis. He pressed Mr. Dunn's hand down on it, exhaling and tilting his head back.

"Hey, what the fuck?!"

To Anthony's surprise, Mr. Dunn jumped backwards. Anthony looked up at him and saw a mixture of surprise and confusion etched on the man's face.

"It's okay," Anthony coaxed, "I like it."

Mr. Dunn took a half-step towards him, then stopped. Slowly, the confusion drained from the man's face and was replaced with a different look – one of revulsion.

"No. I just 3; no."

The man turned away from him and walked towards the exit. Now it was Anthony's turn to be surprised. He quickly sat up and watched as Mr. Dunn left the locker room and stood in the hallway, his back turned to Anthony.

"Hurry up and get your water bottle. I'm taking you to the infirmary, and then I'm going back to watch the rest of the soccer match."

Anthony was shocked; he had never been rejected before. His astonishment turned into anger; who the fuck did this guy think he was? Anybody would be lucky to have Anthony in their bed, Mr. Fisher had said so. Here he was, practically begging for Mr. Dunn to take him, and the man was blatantly refusing his offer. What's more, the man had looked repulsed at the thought of even touching him. That had hurt; Anthony could have his pick of any man in the school, and this one had turned him down. Mr. Dunn was going to pay for this insult. Anthony, feeling humiliated, quickly tucked his quickly softening penis back into his shorts. He marched over to where Mr. Dunn was standing and brushed past him, heading for the stairs.

"You forgot your water bottle," the man said.

"Whatever, I don't need it."

"You also don't look like you need me to help you limp across the quad, either."

"Just leave me alone," Anthony said angrily.

"I can't. Mister Fisher told me to escort you to the nurse's office, and that's what I'm going to do. Once you're there, she can take a look at you and decide what's wrong with your leg 3; or if there's actually anything wrong with it at all."

Anthony thought about ignoring the man and going to his dorm room to cry away the rejection, but decided against it. The other students and teachers might get suspicious if he didn't show up at the infirmary, and that would make Mr. Fisher angry. No, he had better just go through with it, for appearances sake. Hopefully, Mrs. Cahill would write him a pass so the event wouldn't be totally ruined.

He walked up the stairs with Mr. Dunn in tow, and left the gymnasium. He didn't say anything to Mr. Dunn on their trip across the quad, nor did Mr. Dunn offer to talk to him. The man walked behind him, keeping a distance of ten feet the entire way. It was enough to make Anthony want to scream.

As they neared the infirmary, Anthony came to a decision. He had never been rejected before, and he was going to make sure that he wasn't rejected again. Even though he was extremely pissed off at Mr. Dunn, he was going to find a way into the man's pants, one way or another. He was going to have Mr. Dunn begging him for sex before the year was out, and then Anthony would be the one to decide if and when he would do it.

He climbed the infirmary steps with Mr. Dunn in tow. Holding the door open for the man, Anthony stepped inside the warm waiting room. Here students would sit while they waited to see the nurse. They rang the bell but Mrs. Cahill didn't appear to be in. She must be running some errand, he thought. Anthony took a seat in one of the plush chairs and rested his chin on his palm. Mr. Dunn took a look around the room, then turned back towards the door.

"Is the nurse in?" he asked.

Anthony shrugged.

"I dunno. If not she'll be back soon."

"Are you going to be alright waiting for her here?"

"Yeah."

With that, Mr. Dunn opened the infirmary door and left. Apparently, he doesn't want to be alone with me. Anthony leaned back in the chair and exhaled, looking around the room. He had a few good memories of this infirmary. Actually, he had only been here twice for legitimate reasons; the other times had been for some of his "extracurricular" activities.

As he sat in the chair, he remembered his first time in this office, which had also been his induction into the club. It had been near the beginning of last year, shortly after his twelfth birthday. He had been lonely and felt lost, being a new kid at the school. He spent his weekends there as well, while the other kids went home; partly because his parents were out of reach and partly because they were indifferent towards Anthony. They dumped him off at the school and left to worry about their own lives. That first month at the school had left Anthony feeling depressed and utterly alone.

Then, one day, Greg Sutton approached him. Greg had mentioned something about him always being by himself, and said that a boy that was as good looking as Anthony shouldn't be alone. He asked if Anthony was interested in joining a little club, one that would not only put his "skills" to good use, but would provide him with a tight-knit circle of friends that would always look out for him. Naturally, Anthony accepted the offer, and Greg told him that he would talk to "the boss" about it.

Anthony didn't hear anything back for a while, and began to think that it had just been some sort of practical joke, manufactured to make fun of the mopey new kid. The following Thursday, Anthony had been having some bad headaches, so he went to the infirmary. As he sat on the exam table, Mrs. Cahill asked him a few questions about his headaches. He answered them the best he could, and was taken completely by surprise when her hand found its way to his crotch.

He had never been touched there by any other person, and he quickly stiffened in his school shorts. Mrs. Cahill ran her delicate fingertips over the newly-formed tent pole while Anthony's heart beat started to race. He had never had any type of sexual experience before, and he wasn't sure if this was one or not. He didn't see what rubbing his hard-on had to do with headaches, but he didn't mind it at all. He could smell the fragrance of her perfume as she leaned in close, and he started to reach up to cup her breast through her uniform.

That was when she stopped rubbing and pulled away. She gave Anthony two Tylenol and told him to come back on Saturday. Anthony felt so confused; he wasn't sure what had taken place, but he wished that it had gone further. Disappointed, Anthony thanked her and left the office.

On Saturday, he went back to the infirmary. When she took him back into the exam room, she instructed him to strip. Anthony was a little body shy, but he was also excited. Ever since his previous visit two days ago, he had been fantasizing about what had happened. Now, it seemed as though his fantasies were about to come true.

He started fumbling with the zipper of his shorts and was hard as a rock before they hit the floor. He removed his shirt and stood there before her for a minute, his erection tenting out the front of his boxer shorts. He paused, hoping but unsure if she actually wanted to see him naked. She waited only for a few seconds, then asked him what he was waiting for. He couldn't help the eager grin that broke out upon his face as he pulled the boxers down and stepped out of them.

As the nurse stared at his hairless twelve-year-old erection, he started to feel a little self-conscious. He was hoping that she would strip too so that he would get the chance to lose his virginity, but her eyes were steadily fixed upon his cock. He was trying to think of a way to ask this without sounding pathetic, when she pulled a small digital camera out of her pocket and snapped a picture of him.

"Hey," he barked, surprised.

"Don't worry my little darling," she reassured him, "it's for medical purposes."

He wasn't sure what possible 'medical purposes' would call for the nurse to take a naked photo of him, and he quickly cupped his hands in front of his genitals.

"Don't be ashamed honey, you have a nice one. Here, why don't you hop up on the exam table for me?"

She snapped another picture of him trying to conceal his privates. What was going on, was this some sort of game she was playing? Was she trying to humiliate him? He quickly bent over and picked up his boxers. He stepped into them and started pulling them up his smooth legs.

"What are you doing? Don't you want to see me, too?"

This made Anthony pause. Of course he wanted to see her naked, he had dreamed about it for three days. He wasn't sure if she was being serious or not though, so he stopped and looked at her. As if reading his thoughts, she set the camera down on the table and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

"Come on darling, drop them shorts and hop up on the table for me."

It wasn't so much what she said as the way she said it. She had spoken in a teasing, babyish voice, and Anthony quickly forgot about his concerns. He pulled down the boxers again and climbed up onto the exam table.

"Hold it," she said, "hold that pose."

Anthony didn't think it was much of a pose. He was on all fours on the exam table, his rear facing her. Still, he did as she asked and froze in place. The nurse ducked down behind him and leaned in close, and there was another flash. She took a picture of my butthole, Anthony thought, why would she do that?

"Okay honey, now sit on the table with your legs over the side and spread them apart for me."

Anthony got into position, putting his hands on his knees to spread his legs apart as wide as he could. The nurse winked at him, then bent down close to his erection and snapped another photo of it. As a reward for the picture, she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his penis. The feeling of her soft lips on the head of his cock sent shivers of excitement down his spine.

"Okay sweetie, why don't you climb back down and lean up against the table. You look like you could use some milking."

Anthony wasn't sure what she meant. Girls were the ones that gave milk from their breasts, not boys. He did as she said, bending over with his elbows on the table. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt her firm grip wrap around his cock and begin stroking it back and forth. His back stiffened and he shot up, using his palms to lean on the table.

"Oh 3; m 3; my 3; .G 3; G 3; God!"

Her hand felt so soft around his erection, yet her grip was tight. As she rubbed him, his hips began to buck uncontrollably, humping into her hand every time she stroked downwards. She briefly tickled the underside of his scrotum with her fingertips, then moved her other hand upwards until she found his puckered hole. She started rubbing around it in slow circles while she continued to milk his cock, and he was loving every second of it.

*Flash*

From behind him came another flash from the camera, and Anthony jerked his head around. Standing directly behind him was Lucas Summerville, one of the prefects. Anthony started to panic, but Mrs. Cahill placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

"Don't worry baby, he's here to help."

"H 3; help?! W-with what?"

Instead of answering, the nurse took hold of his hand and pulled it down into her shirt, pressing it tightly against her breast. Anthony knew then that this was all staged, but the warmth of her skin caused him to hesitate. He could feel her nipple, standing erect just beneath his thumb. He slid his thumb across it, and she purred and suckled on his earlobe.

"Oh yeah, that's hot," Lucas said as he snapped another picture.

The nurse's hand that had been fingering Anthony's butthole left it, cupping his butt cheek for a second before she used it to unbutton her uniform. Anthony was embarrassed about Lucas being in the room, but his excitement for Mrs. Cahill won out. He turned towards her and kissed her, full on the lips. She returned the kiss, undoing the last button of her uniform and letting it drop to the floor.

Anthony looked at her beautifully naked body. She was thin but curvy, with large breasts and a vagina that was almost totally shaved. There was one thin strip of pubic hair above her pussy lips, which Anthony later found out was called a 'landing strip'. In his excitement, Anthony cuddled his body against hers, trying to push his erection up inside of her.

"Hold on a second my little darling, not so fast. You'll last longer if you take it slow."

Anthony didn't care about lasting long, he only wanted to see what it felt like to have his cock inside of a woman's pussy. However, he took her advice and waited until she was ready. She gave him another kiss, then lowered herself onto the examination table, pulled Anthony down with her. Once again, he tried to push himself up into her.

"Not yet baby, let's have a little foreplay first."

Anthony didn't know what foreplay was, but when the nurse used her hands to push her breasts together, he quickly found out. He lay on her, gently rubbing his cock against her thigh while he sucked on her breast; first on one nipple, then the other. Mrs. Cahill moaned in pleasure, while Lucas snapped another picture. Her hands slid across Anthony's back, and down to his butt cheeks which she started to knead.

Behind them, Lucas had started to undress. Anthony sensed the older boy standing near them and turned his head towards Lucas, only to find the sixteen-year-old's cock staring him right in the face.

"What are you doing," he asked, a little worried.

"Don't worry baby," Mrs. Cahill cooed beneath him, "he's going to show you how to use your assets. Focus on fucking me instead."

The bluntness of her words made Anthony's cocklet twitch. As she spread her legs apart, he climbed up and pressed the tip of his erection against her vagina lips. This was it; the moment he had been waiting for. Anthony gave her another kiss as he tried to push himself into her, only to find that he wasn't sure exactly where to put it. Mrs. Cahill, seeming to understand his dilemma, reached down and guided his cock into her as she returned his kiss.

Gosh, it's so warm and gushy! This was the first thought that came into his mind as his penis pushed inside of the older woman. Her pussy closed around his cock like a glove, and she let a moan escape as he penetrated her. From behind them came another flash; this one a closeup of Anthony's cock inside of the nurse's pussy. Then, as Anthony started to pump his hips slowly, he felt another sensation down below.

Lucas had set the camera aside and had his face pressed up against their privates. What Anthony felt was the older boy's tongue, licking the underside of Anthony's cock where it met Mrs. Cahill's vagina. He could feel Lucas's warm breath on his scrotum as the prefect breathed through his nostrils. Excitedly, Anthony turned all his attention to the wonderful feelings that were pulsing through his groin. New, incredible sensations that he had only dreamed about before.

"Okay Lucas, I think he's ready," Mrs. Cahill said in between gasps.

Lucas stopped licking, and stood up. While Anthony continued to pound himself again Mrs. Cahill's dripping pussy, he felt something cool and wet being poured down the valley between his butt cheeks. He felt it tingle slightly as it touched his anus, and then he could feel something being gently slid into his hole. His rhythm slowed to a stop, and his muscles tensed up.

"Easy, baby, Lucas will be gentle with you. Don't fight it, just concentrate on our fucking. Focus on your beautiful, hard cock pounding my wet pussy."

Anthony did as she said, and although he could still feel the finger pushing deeper and deeper into his rectum, it didn't feel all that bad. In fact, it actually felt kind of 3; good. He picked up the pace, humping the school nurse while the prefect finger-fucked his boyhole. When the probing finger found his prostate, Anthony could almost feel an electric shock course through his lower body, and then he began to have his orgasm.

He thrust himself into the nurse one final time, pushing himself as deep as he could possibly go. Then, he moaned loudly as he was hit with waves of intense pleasure, both from his cock and from the finger that was still examining his rectum. His cock started to pulse wildly inside of the older woman and he could actually feel the cum as it surged through his urethra and shot into her. As his cock gave a final throb, Anthony collapsed upon the nude woman, exhausted.

Mrs. Cahill and Lucas spent the rest of the afternoon teaching Anthony the many joys of sex, allowing him a refractory period before starting again. As soon as Mrs. Cahill said that Anthony was 'stretched enough', The prefect mounted the boy, facing him as he pressed the tip of his erection against Anthony's quivering hole.

"Just relax, cutie," Mrs. Cahill said smoothly.

Anthony did as she said, and the prefect began pushing his cock inside of the tight young hole. Anthony winced and stiffened, but the prefect was very gentle with him, allowing him to grow accustomed to the feeling before sliding himself in further. Lucas kissed him and put his arms around Anthony, cuddling him close. It hurt at first, but soon the pain subsided and Anthony felt blips of pleasure every time the prefect's cock pushed against his prostate.

Anthony wrapped his slender legs around Lucas's nude body, squeezing the pumping hips with every thrust. He moaned and Lucas responded by sucking on the underside of his jawline. Anthony clung tightly to the older boy, rubbing his own cock against the prefect's stomach. This actually felt good, and he was glad to have such a gentle partner for his first time. In fact, Anthony now believed that he might just be in love with Lucas 3; and Mrs. Cahill as well.

"Oh God 3; I 3; I think I love you," he whispered into the prefect's ear.

Lucas kissed him passionately, and Anthony felt the boy's tongue in his mouth. Anthony curled his own tongue around the prefect's, sucking on it as the older boy began to pick up the pace. Anthony moaned and slid his hands down the prefect's sweaty back until he reached the tightened butt cheeks. He squeezed and massaged them while his vision blurred with exultation.

"Are you ready, baby?" Lucas asked him, and Anthony nodded.

Lucas pushed inside as deep as he could and let out a loud moan. Anthony could feel the stiff cock pulsing inside of him, coating his rectum with warm, wonderful cum. Anthony gripped Lucas's butt cheeks tightly as his own orgasm shot clear semen across the prefect's stomach. The prefect collapsed upon him, and Anthony gently massaged the boy's back with his fingertips, caught up in the afterglow.

When they were ready to go again, Lucas allowed Anthony to fuck him while Mrs. Cahill sucked on the prefect's cock. Before they finished, they switched places; Lucas once again fucking Anthony while Mrs. Cahill placed her breasts on either side of his twelve-year-old cocklet, letting him 'titty-fuck' her. They took pictures the entire time, going through them during the cool-off periods between sex.

From that afternoon on, Anthony enjoyed spending as much time as he could around Lucas. He would visit Mrs. Cahill too, but he always returned to his gentle mentor. The prefect introduced him to other boys, who would share sexual experiences with Anthony after classes. The boy shared many sexual partners with Lucas, but every night before bed, Anthony was all Lucas's. The prefect would tiptoe into Anthony's room to rouse him, and the two would sneak out of the dorm, hurry along to the small alley behind Eagle house, and make passionate love beneath the stars. It was always the highlight of Anthony's day; he had found what he was good at, and he enjoyed doing it.

A few weeks later, Anthony was introduced to Mr. Fisher, who was the leader of the club. The man had sex with him in his office, right on top of his desk, and Anthony was officially a member of the secret inner circle. They became his new family and Anthony used his talents to serve Carl as best he could. He even grew to like the feeling of power that he wielded over the adults, who would ask for favors and give pleasure as well as receive it. Anthony didn't always like baiting or deceiving the younger boys, but he would do it if Mr. Fisher asked him to.

Mr. Fisher soon became the father that Anthony had always wanted; one that cared and paid attention to him. The man always told Anthony that he was 'his favorite boy', and Anthony would visit Mr. Fisher's office at least once a week for sex. He didn't even mind that Mr. Fisher often used him to lure other boys into the club, as long as the man continued to treat Anthony as family, Anthony would always remain loyal.

Lucas had graduated from the school that summer, but he would occasionally visit on weekends. Anthony missed his favorite sex partner, but he never missed a chance to pleasure others. He knew that it was his destiny; to use his talents until his 'equipment' was too old to work anymore. But until that time, he was known among the members of the club as always willing, and would hardly ever turn down a good screw.

Anthony missed his mentor. At first, after Lucas had graduated, Anthony thought that Greg might take the prefect's place. The new prefect was handsome, popular, and admired by all, but Anthony soon found out that Greg was hardly a worthy substitute. The new prefect was rough and Anthony disliked him at once. Greg would sometimes look at him as though he was nothing; even in sex Greg was cold, mechanical, and never stopped, even when Anthony would complain that it hurt. Luckily, this was Greg's last year at St. Xavier; he would be graduating soon and Anthony wouldn't have to worry about him any longer.

As Anthony sat in the waiting room and reminisced about his first time, he found himself growing hard again. Though he had been rejected by Mr. Dunn, Anthony didn't believe that a good erection should ever go to waste. Might as well play with it a little bit while I wait, he thought as he got up from the plush chair and walked into the sick bay. He pulled his shorts down to his ankles and lay back in one of the six beds that were provided for the sick or injured students. He wrapped his hand around his stiffened cock and started to rub it vigorously, hoping that Mrs. Cahill would walk in on him before he could cum, and help him finish the job.

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