PZA: Debating Love

The boy could feel the scars on his skin. No amount of traveling clothes could cover them up to him. He stood in the doorway of his house, staring at the world outside. The two leather bags in his hands felt heavier than normal. His muscles were still weak. The bags were actually packed light: a few favoured books and clothes, besides his school things. When he walked into the open, the light stung him. His eyes would be sensitive for some time yet, the doctor had said.

Over by the car, his mother yelled, "Ashton, darling, let the driver take those."

Nevin realized that Ashton had found him in their new dorm room when his friend tackled him from behind, right onto his bed.

"Get off me, you idiot," said Nevin, kicking at Ashton. He felt his toe connect with a rib, but had no other success against the taller boy. Ashton grabbed at Nevin's belt buckle as he pinned him more securely.

Ashton stopped. Nevin could feel the other boy's weight settling onto his chest.

"Let me get this straight," Ashton said. "You're turning down a blowjob for the sake of smooth sheets?"

"Dinner time!" called the monitor through the open door. "You two queers cut out the welcome home party and get down to the dining hall."

"He's right," said Nevin looking Ashton over. "It really is good to have you back. There were some days when I didn't think you'd make it. I mean, when I saw those photos 3;"

Ashton made a dismissive sound. "It looked worse than it was. C'mon, let's go show our faces so we can get back here and have some fun."

"Ash?" yelled Upton when they walked into the hall. "Bloody Hell, man. We all thought you had died or something."

"Mister Upton!" said Jones, that night's supervising master. "Please control your language."

Ashton waited until he reached Upton and said, "I wish I had died. Then I wouldn't have to see your ugly face again."

"Grab a plate," Upton said, sitting at one of the Third Form tables. "Let's hear all about it."

"There isn't much to tell, really," said Ashton, after he and Nevin eventually sat down to eat at the long, varnished table. Above them, banners of silver and blue hung from the vaulted concrete ceiling. "I was in the car, everything went white, then black and then I woke up in the hospital."

"What? No weird dreams?" asked Simmons, who showed up with an unknown boy in tow. The two of them took the chairs to the left of Ashton. "No heavenly light and Enya music?"

"Nope." Ashton carved off a bit of over-boiled steak. "I have looked over the edge of life and found nothing there." He stabbed at the steak. "Just as I expected."

"Freddie Hayes," said the new boy as he shook hands all around. He was thin, with pale eyes and hair, and a squeak for a voice. Cute, though.

"I'm surprised you even remember him," said Simmons. "He only got here a couple of weeks before you were sidelined."

"Yeah, well it's hard to forget someone who stomps your ass six games running at chess."

"It's weird how a different hairstyle can change someone's whole appearance," said Nevin.

Just then, Mark's gaze turned in Ashton's direction. Their eyes met and Mark smiled. He really does look different. The way his hair comes over his forehead like that 3; Ashton smiled back, giving Mark a little stunned half-wave.

"Look here. If I didn't tell the other team about their mothers being whores and all that, plus make the crowd get behind you at the games, you lot wouldn't get anything done on the field. I'm a psychological warfare expert."

"Not anymore," said Ashton. "I'm not goin' to be playing any cricket for a while."

"You're not playing cricket?" asked Mark. He stood at Ashton's elbow, dinner tray in hand.

Hit from behind, Mark lurched towards Ashton, stopping himself in time to prevent a collision, but spilling soup on Ashton's jacket and trousers. Some of it splashed on Nevin.

"Stop blocking traffic, dickhead," said James Harrick, going past. Harrick was a fifth former and big for his age. They were quiet until he was gone.

Nevin seemed surprised at the request. He looked up at Mark and then slid into the next chair.

"Let me help you clean up," said Mark to Ashton. He reached for a napkin. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Probably for the best that you lost your dinner, anyway," said Upton. "The food here is shit."

"What are you talking about?" asked Simmons. "I think this food is pretty good."

"Like yours can? Her idea of seasoning the food is telling the maid to go easy on the oregano."

"Yeah. I didn't like it. It didn't have anything to do with pirates or history. Just an excuse for the grown ups to get drunk, really."

"They don't check on that stuff down there. They give out rum punch like it's fruit juice."

"Of course not," said Ashton, "None of us do. But this was one of those once in a while opportunities for you to have a little fun without consequences. You should have taken it."

Ashton's grasped his fork a little tighter. "Kingston General Hospital," he said, managing to keep his voice casual. "Thirty-three days."

"Yes, but I shouldn't have reminded you about it. You must have been miserable that whole time."

"I slept for the most part, actually. It wasn't bad. Plus I had a private room with a telly and there was cricket on 3;"

"Oh man, the Ashes!" said Mark. "Hasn't it been amazing?" Thinking of that summer's current cricket series seemed to make him glow. "I've felt like I'm dreaming all summer long."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Ashton putting his hand on Mark's shoulder. "I know it's a great team, but when they actually came back to beat Australia after the first test, it was like I was living in an alternate dimension or something, it felt so unreal."

Unreal was the feel of Mark's shoulder under his hand. Like Ashton had a hold of some treasure he was only noticing for the first time. The boys looked at each other with silly smiles on their faces. Mark's eyes seemed to sparkle, blue as icebergs, with the same suggestion of hidden depth.

"It's too bad you can't play now," said Mark to Ashton. "We've got a decent team for the Under Fifteen's this year. You'd have put us over the top."

Even the way he puts his fork in his mouth is cute. How come I never noticed all this before?

"Well, there isn't much damage so it's just a matter of getting back my strength. They gave me exercises to do."

"You know, I go running most mornings," said Mark, sitting back. "I could use a partner. You wouldn't have to do the whole distance with me, just keep me company and 3;"

"What are you talking about?" said Nevin. "You hate mornings. You're never out of bed before nine unless you're forced."

"Well, maybe having a near death experience has awakened me to the beauty of life and the world. Did you consider that?"

"I've considered a lot of possibilities," said Nevin. "Most of them involve you having a cracked egg for a brain."

"Never mind him, Mark. He's still waiting for his pubes to grow in and it makes him irritable."

Nevin was pretty steamed as he brushed his teeth. He had spent fifteen minutes working on the soup stain. Only a rigorous examination could find it now, but in Nevin's mind it was a permanent presence. That damned Harrick, he thought. I'd love to stick him on an island with nothing but wild pigs and see if he can make it among his own kind.

Ashton would, no doubt, make some comment about Nevin indulging his fascist tendencies if he knew what Nevin was thinking. Well, fuck Ashton.

Ashton was not in their room just then. He was still in Upton's room, across the hall. After dinner most of the boys on their floor had ended up there to trade stories about the holidays. Freddie had been pretty quiet, probably because he was new. He seemed to just absorb all he heard like a credulous sponge. Nevin had stopped in for a little while, but had left early. He had not said much either; his summer of hanging out by himself did not make for enthralling tales of carefree fun. When Nevin had left Upton's room, Ashton had been sliding right back into life at Tudor Academy, as if his absence had been just another one of a hundred normal vacations.

Bloody Harrick. Nevin reached for the floss and ripped a length off. How can he get away with acting like that?

Jones had seen, Nevin knew, but like most of the older teachers seemed to take such incidents as something for the kids to sort out among themselves. The prefects had noticed too, but none of them wanted to get in Harrick's face over something that could more easily be dismissed as acceptable social friction.

Not that they had thought it was all right. In fact, many of the older boys had borne the same look of disquiet that the younger boys had. Duncan O'Shea, one of the new Lower Sixers, even seemed to smoulder with disgust as he looked on.

Ashton still talked like Ashton and he still acted like Ashton, but he did not seem like Ashton.

Well, what do you expect? He's been through a hell of a lot, whatever he might say.

Ashton came through the door right then. "Room service," he warbled. "Someone order a slut?"

In the mirror, Nevin watched Ashton toss his jacket onto a chair and walk up behind him, loosening his tie. Nevin continued flossing. Ashton's arms encircled his waist and Nevin felt his friend gently bite his shoulder just inside his pajama neckline. Ashton's hands stroked up Nevin's sides and over his chest as he traded sharp teeth for soft tongue on Nevin's shoulder. Immediately, Nevin was hard and finding it difficult to concentrate.

Ashton grabbed Nevin's ear between his lips and slid his hands down his thighs. He then pressed himself against Nevin's entire body. Nevin felt Ashton grab hold of his hips and unhurriedly grind against his ass, his hard dick pressing against Nevin's crack through pants and pajamas.

Nevin found it impossible to keep flossing now, he was so horny. He elbowed Ashton in the ribs. "I said let me finish."

The rooms at The Tudor Academy for Boys were fairly Spartan: a polished hardwood floor with a few mats; a sink near the door; two functional desks; the beds against the far corners under two square windows.

Nevin sat on his bed, leaned back and gave in to his raging desire. He let Ashton unbutton his pajama shirt and toss it away. Ashton leaned in and pressed his lips right into Nevin's chest. With quick, short strokes of his tongue, Ashton went after Nevin's nipples. His practiced hands undid the elastic cord at Nevin's waist.

Ashton tugged the pajamas down under Nevin's ass and the boy raised it to let them pass, falling back onto his elbows. With the pajamas gone, Nevin felt Ashton's fingertips trail slowly down his hips, sending spasms all the way down to his toes.

And to think he had almost lost this. Lost this touching. Lost this intimacy. Lost his best friend.

Nevin held Ashton at the back of the head and pressed the boy to his stomach, stroking his hair. A feeling of profound gratefulness washed over him.

With a quick movement, Ashton upended him, sending Nevin onto his back with his legs held over him. Ashton slobbered over his ass pucker, tongue busy as ever.

The tongue seemed to lengthen, Ashton dragging it along under, and then over, Nevin's balls. At the base of his nail-hard dick, Ashton grabbed Nevin with his lips. Nevin felt him slide along to the head and then take it gently into his mouth.

Ah, the good part. Ash was so talented at this too. From the looks of things he had missed the sex a lot, so eager to get going that he had not even taken his clothes off.

Using one hand to hold Nevin's shaft while he licked and sucked, Ashton caressed Nevin's sides and thighs with the other in small, light touches that gave Nevin goosebumps. Occasionally, Ashton slid his fingertips along the insides of Nevin's buttocks and over his tender hole.

As he closed in on his orgasm, Nevin's grip tightened on his sheets; the same sheets he had been so particular about earlier. Now, he did not care. He was floating on a cloud of pleasure, a hot, wet mouth and an enthusiastic tongue driving his sensations along.

With Ashton's lips wrapped tightly around the head of his cock, the electric thrills of climax ripped through Nevin's body. His legs and torso tightened deliciously as he stiffened one- two- three- four times then lost count, his best friend keeping up the insistent suction all the way through.

Nevin's body slowly went slack, sinking into the storm-tossed sheets of his bed. He soaked in the feelings of release and freedom that flowed through his stomach and brain. As his mind cleared, he realized Ashton was already back on his side of the room hanging his tie on a bedpost.

"You're usually after me to do you as soon as you're done with me. What do you mean, 'that's fine'?"

"Oh come on. You know I'll do it good. Besides, I won't feel right until I give you one back."

"Very well." Ashton unzipped his flies, pulled his semi-hard dick out and stood there with his hands at his sides.

"What's this all about?" asked Nevin drawing back. "We're not in some back alley, you know. Aren't you going to take your clothes off?"

"I can't do it properly like this. I enjoy playing with all the bits and pieces of you too, you know."

"This is stupid," said Nevin. He returned to bed and put his clothes back on. Ashton turned off the lights.

Nevin pondered Ashton's behaviour while he listened to his friend change into his sleeping clothes and then slide under his blanket. They lay there in their separate beds, the darkness settling between them.

"But I've seen them. Hell, half the school's seen them. You were showing them off like combat decorations all through dinner."

Ashton's words set Nevin's brain clicking. He realized what had been bothering him about Ashton all day. That core of self belief that was Ashton – that core was still there, ticking away out of habit, but it was looser, less vibrant. Whatever was happening to Ashton had drained the well of self image that his confidence fed off of.

Nevin went over and sat on the edge of Ashton's bed, his hand on the boy's turned shoulder.

Nevin pressed his friend back into his mattress, taking a little time to admire the smooth, strong face below him, just visible in the dark. He slid a hand under Ashton's Linkin Park T-shirt, caressing the strange papery skin of the scars on his torso. Ashton took a deep breath. Nevin leaned in and pressed his lips to Ashton's.

That was true. In the early days of their sexual experimentation, Nevin and Ashton had tried kissing and enjoyed it, but the romantic connotations had clashed with the recreational nature of their sex, so they had made an unspoken agreement to set it aside. (They had also agreed to preserve their 'analinity', as they called it.)

Again, Nevin kissed Ashton, stroking his hair and holding his body close. He slid his tongue tenderly across Ashton's lips, then between them, slowly reaching out to his friend. Ashton responded slowly at first then more definitely, hugging Nevin to him and playing his own tongue against Nevin's. When he was sure that Ashton had surrendered to the emotions of the kiss, Nevin sat up and looked down at his dazed friend.

A low, threatening hum. Damp mist swirling in the dark. The sweet tinkle of broken glass. Searing brightness. (Only the hum was really the sound of his own screaming and the mist was choking smoke). Metal crunched and flames rose at his face-

Ashton shook off the nightmare as he sat up. Same damned shit every night. He headed for the washrooms down the hall. In the distance, the drone of the ventilator reminded him of the humming from his dream. At the urinal, he unloaded his half-filled bladder. He ran the water cold at the sink, gathering and then splashing it over his face. The lights flickered and then continued flickering.

The air fan really did sound like the dream hum now. Weird. Ashton blinked the wet out of his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror. He spun around when he heard a loud bang inside one of the stalls.

"Upton told you the food was crap, you know. I'm not surprised you got the shits."

The toilet door swung inward at Ashton's touch. Simmons was slumped in the corner, naked and unnaturally pale. Ashton knelt over him. The acrid stench of stale cum rose up off of Simmons.

Ashton caught sight of Simmons' eyes. They were without irises, gone completely milk white.

"I've got to have you, Ashton." Simmons's breath was heavy with the semen smell. In fact, there seemed to be a trickle of the white stuff down the corners of his mouth. Simmons grabbed Ashton by the crotch, gaining a firm hold on his balls.

Ashton slapped hard at Simmons's arm and the whole thing tore off at the shoulder, white stuff squirting where blood should have come. Ashton jumped back, the dismembered arm hanging between his legs as it kept its grip. He pried the fingers off and backed out of the bathroom into the now darkened hallway. There was heavy breathing all around him. Grunts. Growls. Low moans of "Ashton."

Time for some judo tactics. Attack when they least expect it. Get close when they expect you to back off.

Ashton shouldered right into the greatest concentration of sounds, slamming through a crowd of faces he recognized – Mostly other Third Formers, but also some younger and older boys, even Pilsich, the floor master – all with the same dull, all-white eyes and the semen reek. He scampered into the dark, down the hall. They were after him, the rumble of slow feet telling of their approach. There were more of them down the main stairwell. His way out of the building was blocked. Searching for an open window, he dashed into the study lounge and dragged a table to hold the door shut. He was looking around the darkened room for some chairs to bolster his defense when an arm grabbed his shoulder from behind.

He spun around with his arm raised and only just stopped himself from bringing it down. It was Mark, his blue eyes like beacons in the shadows.

"Nonsense." Ashton barely paid attention to what Mark had said. "I'll keep them back long enough for you break that window open. Use the chair."

Mark's eyes seemed to be literally aflame now, casting a surreal blue light. He had also grown fangs and demon's horns. From the hallway, the banging continued, steady and louder.

In the other bed, Nevin was dreaming of cheese and firecrackers. Strange, but true.

When Ashton awoke – for real this time – the knocking turned out to be Mark, ready for their morning run.

It's bad enough that I have nightmares about the crash every night. Now I've got sex zombies on my case.

He woke up slowly despite the cool morning air as he and Mark headed for the playfield.

"Hmm?" Ashton had been busy admiring Mark out of the corner of his eye. Mark was a bit shorter, slim without being skinny, and moved with a confident grace. His dark hair had a permanently tussled look.

"Oh." Mark smiled, a smile that seemed full of an easy satisfaction with life. "I thought maybe you'd been drinking."

Ashton laughed. "I was just making a point about opportunity with that rum punch comment, dimwit. I'm not an alcoholic."

"Let's warm up first," said Mark. He took charge, leading Ashton through a long set of stretches and bends. At the end of that, Ashton was already tired. Then they started jogging – back and forth across the width of the field, rather than in circuits. Ashton ran out of breath quickly, though not as easily as he had been expecting. Then Mark broke into a sprint. Ashton matched him, light headed and wheezing. Just when Ashton was sure he would have to quit, Mark slowed to a walk and said, "We'll just do some more stretches to stay loose and then we're done."

"Pretty good." Ashton still had not caught his breath. "I'm glad you got me out here."

"Good," said Mark, putting an arm around Ashton's shoulder. "Tomorrow we'll step it up just a little."

They walked in silence, Ashton reveling in the closeness. In a minute, they passed Colby and Stewart, going out for their own run. An image from his dream, of the same two boys as dead-eyed freaks, flashed in Ashton's mind.

Nevin watered his thyme plant with a toy water-can first thing after he woke. He had named the plant Beyonce, despite Ashton's protests.

"What is the homosexual obsession with divas all about anyways?" Ashton had asked back in Spring.

"It's just feeding stereotypes: gay men worshipping Madonna and Barbra Streisand and all that." Ashton's half of the room was covered in posters of men, most half naked. Sportsmen like Michael Owen, Kimi Raikonnen and Dmitri Saitchev, so the casual observer took it for nothing more than a heroes' gallery, but it was pure masturbation fuel.

"Even so, only a gay boy would name a plant after Beyonce. A straight bloke would have gotten that Pepsi pin-up of her in the gladiator outfit."

"Ha. You're just jealous that you don't have a cool gay uncle. Besides, the way I hear it, you were trying to get into his pants when he was here at Christmas."

Realizing that it would annoy Ashton had only made Nevin more determined to be sure that Beyonce thrived. He had nursed the plant through a difficult summer and was fastidious in caring for 'her'.

As Nevin finished and put down the watering can, Ashton came in from the shower, wearing only a towel, his hair still wet.

"Good Lord, you actually did it," said Nevin. "I suppose a cute boy is the only thing that could possibly have gotten you out of bed this early."

"Don't blaspheme." As the core of Tudor's unofficial atheists' club, Nevin and Ashton avoided calling on deities.

"I've found God," Nevin said theatrically. "You getting up at dawn is the miracle that has convinced me of his power."

"I think you need convincing of my power," said Ashton, who then lunged for Nevin, the towel falling to the floor. Nevin squealed – instantly hating the sound – and jumped onto the bed to avoid his naked friend's assault.

"Rape?" Ashton made a grab for Nevin's legs. "Who'd want to rape your skinny behind?"

Nevin leapt onto his desk and then over the chair. He flew out the door, where a clearly astonished Mark stood. Behind Nevin, Ashton was saying, "I need a real man to satisfy my big hungry co 3;"

Ashton caught sight of Mark and stopped mid-sentence. All he could do was stare, unable to get his panicked thoughts together. Mark just stood there, leaning against the door frame with an amused smile on his face.

"Oh." Good, then he didn't hear Nevin refer to him as a cute boy. He was more than cute. Standing there in his blue blazer and silver tie, Mark was just about perfect.

"We've already established that," said Mark, clearly tickled. "Question is, are you going to be coming down to breakfast like that?"

The thought of sitting down to toast and tea with the cold dining hall chair against his bare butt kick-started Ashton's mind. Turning, he bent to retrieve the towel.

Oh no! I just mooned him. He must have seen right up to the back of my teeth with that one.

"Is it safe?" Mark smiled. "I'm not sure, considering what you tried to do to Nevin."

"I didn't realize you were into surfing," said Mark, admiring a poster of a slim-bodied blond taming a wave while wearing nothing but spandex shorts.

"I had a terrific few days on the North Coast when we were in Barbados. It's an amazing beach. You know they have international surfing competitions there?"

Mark turned away from the wall to face Ashton. "I came by to see if you were up for a game of chess later tonight."

Nevin buttered his muffin with careful strokes. Across from him, Upton said, "You hear they hired Osama to be our gardener?"

"If you took the time to observe people as individuals," said Simmons, "you'd have noticed that this bloke has a neatly groomed beard for one thing. Bin Laden has that stringy cave beard look."

"He looks at me weird. At all of us. Real hard. Like he thinks we need spankings."

Across the hall, Nevin caught sight of Harrick, who was laughing behind a plateful of scrambled eggs. Nevin's anger over the jacket started bubbling.

"Hey don't blame me. It's not my fault our parents sent us to a school full of pervs."

"You bend over in front of him a lot, Upton?" asked Nevin, still staring off at Harrick.

"Hey," Upton shrugged, going along with the joke, "if it'll get me a better grade, then why not?"

"Sheehan, the security guard," said Nevin. Harrick's eyes flickered in his direction and Nevin looked away.

"I've heard bad stories about him," said Simmons. "All joking aside, I wouldn't be surprised if he actually is a kiddy fiddler."

"He'd never get away with something like that," said Mark, smiling. "Tudor isn't a Catholic school, you know."

"No," said Freddie, "and I'm starting to think you chaps are just pulling my leg."

"But, he seems really nice," said Freddie. "Like an uncle. He asked me about my family and we talked about all sorts of things."

Simmons said, "When a perv gets to know his target and earn their trust – it's called grooming."

Freddie's anger got loose. "So you're saying the only reason someone would talk to me is if they wanted my body? They couldn't possibly be interested in just being my friend?"

Done with breakfast, Nevin headed off to the washroom. Halfway through his piss, Harrick walked in.

"You keep staring at me, you little shit," said Harrick, pushing Nevin's chest into the wall and holding him there. "What's your problem?"

"I've heard rumours about you," said Harrick in his ear. "They say you're a pansy. You better stop eyeing me up. I don't go in for any of that queer business."

Nevin was ten minutes late to class, delayed by having to clean his own urine off his shoes.

Cricket practice started at three-thirty that afternoon. Ashton showed up to take a look. Tudor had a separate field just for cricket, the fresh-cut grass as green as a billiard table. Nevin had declined to join Ashton, citing some vague 'thing' he had to take care of.

Mark was like a panther in the field, running low and pouncing on the ball anytime it was hit near him. He took a couple of sharp catches too, one while diving forward.

He's got inhuman reflexes. The hand-eye coordination was even more apparent when Mark batted. His technique was quite ragged, with awkward looking angles, but he played late – detecting any deviation in the ball's path and striking it with the unerring accuracy born of excellent eyesight.

"Don't fret." Mark patted Ashton on the shoulder. "I'll have my chance to crash your bowling all over the field before long, I'm sure."

"The only thing you'll be seeing all over the field when I bowl to you is your off stump."

"Tell you what then," said Mark. "Get well soon, and we'll settle this. Man to man."

'Man to man'? Is that some kind of innuendo? Does he remember what I said this morning about needing a man to- Nah, I'm just reading too much into this whole thing.

"You!" said Duncan when he opened his door. "You've been following me around all afternoon."

Duncan frowned then shrugged and moved away from the door. Nevin followed him into the room. The fifth and sixth former rooms were smaller, but there were no roommates to contend with so it seemed quite spacious. Duncan shut the door. On seeing the poster on Duncan's wall, Nevin exclaimed, "Oh, I didn't realize you were into surfing."

"Um, yeah," said Duncan, looking embarrassed. "Mostly when I'm on holiday. Look, what's all this about?"

"I need your help. From what I saw of you this afternoon, I think you'd be willing."

Nevin had been watching Duncan O'Shea's interactions with people. He had watched Duncan's practice game on the football field, even peeked in the windows of the gymnasium shower afterward. At dinner, he had observed him keenly. He was sure he had learned quite a bit about the broad-shouldered boy with the auburn curls whose room he was now in, but he kept it to himself.

"Why do you need me?" asked Duncan. He took a seat on the bed and offered the chair to Nevin.

"Yes, but no one wants to lose Tudor property then have to pay for it. You use duplicates."

"Don't you think Harrick knows that I lived there last year? He'll be screaming at me the minute he sees what you've done."

"Three things," said Nevin, leaning forward. "One: you're as strong as he is, so he won't want to pick a fight. Two: you're too much of a straight arrow. I checked: you're the frontrunner to be the new head prefect. No one would suspect you of cutting an illegal spare key."

Duncan scooped a football off the floor with his toe and bounced it on his knee. "You're not as smart as you think."

Nevin looked straight at Duncan. It was time to lay it all out. He said, "I think you want to help me. I saw you last night when Harrick knocked over that kid's food. I saw your eyes. My Uncle Robin is a policeman. Your eyes looked just like his. That same mix of outrage and shame. This afternoon when Rollins went after that other kid for the foul, you calmed him down. I've seen lots of little things like that."

Duncan seemed hypnotized. Nevin continued talking. "You like things to be in balance. You also know that nobody's going to call Harrick to account for all the bullying he's done to me and the other kids. I think you want him to get paid back."

Duncan stared at Nevin for a second then said, "Planning to be a psychologist one day?"

Duncan looked dazed for a moment, then shook it off. "Alright, look, I'm not promising anything, but I'll think about all this. I'll let you know tomorrow."

Ashton barely paid any attention when Nevin got back to their room. He was too busy losing his third chess game of the night.

How am I supposed to concentrate, when all I can think about is how hot Mark looks?

Of course, there was more to it than that. Mark had a gift for coordinating his pieces. They moved like parts of one big machine, hammering here and piercing there, to scuttle Ashton's defense.

Five moves later it was checkmate. Mark started setting the pieces back up again.

"Right. G'night Ashton." Mark slapped Nevin lightly on the back. "G'night Nevin. Don't trust this bastard – sleep with your back to the wall."

Nevin did indeed let Ashton take advantage of his mouth that night. Or was it Nevin taking advantage of Ashton's dick? They melted into each other, Ashton's stiff rod in his mouth like a talisman of power.

The unfamiliarity of Ashton's burn-scarred stomach and thighs under his hands did not last long. Soon he was conscious only of the fact that he was touching his friend, bringing him pleasure. He caressed the cock head with his lips as Ashton spurted his load. When it was all over, Nevin kissed the tip, then crawled up the bed and fell asleep on Ashton's shoulder.

Mark's knocking awakened Ashton from a dream where a growling lion was stalking him across a flimsy bamboo bridge. He found Nevin draped across his stomach, snoring.

He slid out from under Nevin's weight, a familiar maneuver since the boys often shared a bed – usually when Nevin felt a need for closeness.

A few minutes later, on the way out of the dormitory, he and Mark passed Pilsich. The teacher, already dressed in his suit, said, "Mister Sinclair 3;"

"You were late to breakfast yesterday. See to it that your morning exertions do not impede your timely arrival today."

Outside, Mark said, "I can't believe you talked to him that way. Most of the boys are terrified of him. He gives terrible detentions, even floggings sometimes."

"I've got nothing to fear as long as I don't out and out insult him or spit at him or something."

"Because it's fun. He's a pompous git who needs the air taken out of him every now and again. Besides, he hates me."

"Yeah. We got into it over my being an atheist my first year here. He was recruiting for the bible club. He said that no atheist could be a worthy British subject."

They ran two extra lengths of the field that morning. At the end of it Ashton felt drained, but in a good way. Mark put his arm around Ashton's shoulders as they walked back. The morning mist around them was lifting slowly.

"I think you are. I think you've seen all the bad things done in the name of religion and written it off as a tool for power hungry men. I think you see God as a weight that holds back the human mind from the freedom to explore ideas and from a true appreciation of our place in the universe. I think all that makes you resentful."

"That's amazing," said Ashton, stopping to look at Mark. "How could you tell all that? We've never even talked religion before."

"I'm serious," said Mark. He started walking again. "Genuine, Harry Potter, King Arthur, Freddie Mercury magic."

"I can't believe you're a Queen fan," said Ashton. "I've got all their albums on my computer. If you want any of my stuff, I'll give it to you."

"But I'll come over and we can listen together. What's your favourite song?" asked Mark.

"I keep my bible in my nightstand. Along with my magic wand and a stack of Queen CD's."

"I still don't know how you analyzed me like that," said Ashton, shaking his head.

"Actually," said Mark, "Nevin told me all that stuff about you yesterday. We've got the same art class."

Duncan came to Nevin in the library during a study period. He looked around twice, then sat at the table just behind Nevin, facing away from him, the backs of their chairs touching.

Duncan said, "I want to make sure you don't get caught and I want to make sure you don't take it too far."

Trashing was an old, though dying, tradition at Tudor. Nevin knew that in his Uncle Robin's day, when the rooms had not had locks, they had been a daily occurrence. Most were simple pranks played on friends – an upturned bed, tumbled books, that sort of thing. Some were nasty. Uncle Robin had told him of one where they had smeared peanut butter on every piece of underwear one boy owned and another when they had soaked a bed in their piss.

"Actually, I was a lot different then – trying to prove what a big man I was. Those poor sods were just looking to stay low and make it through school without getting into trouble. I took that as a sign of weakness."

Nevin shared none of Uncle Robin's guilt over what he had in mind for Harrick. "How far is too far?" he asked Duncan.

"We'll do this tonight," said Duncan. "Harrick's got a scout meeting at eight. Meet me in my room."

When the outside temperature rises
And the meaning is oh so clear
One thousand and one yellow daffodils
Begin to dance in front of you – oh dear

"It's bloody unfair is what it is," said Ashton. "What am I supposed to do with brown?"

Six of them were gathered in the study lounge, preparing for Tudor's upcoming sports' day. Given his diminished athletic capacity, Devon House had made Ashton their artistic director. He was going to design the costumes for the March Past which would open the festivities. The only problem was that Devon House's designated colour was brown.

"No," said Ashton with disgust. "I tried last year already. They say they can't change a three hundred year old tradition."

The six of them were sitting around the circular table, balanced on the backrests of the chairs rather than sitting in them.

"Quick," said Nevin, "somebody please cover my ears before Ashton starts going on about the evils of tradition in society."

"What do they expect us to do?" asked Simmons, who was in Devon House also. "Go as a giant pile of shit?"

The houses were not houses, per se. They were simply groups that the boys were placed into at random for the sake of organizing extracurricular activities. Upton was in Clayton House, Mark in Percival, Nevin and Freddie in Drake. Each year the six houses marched in their colours past a visiting dignitary at the beginning of a day of competition for the Champion's Trophy.

Every year Ashton cringed through it, because Devon house looked like a rusty bucket compared to the brilliant purples, blues and greens of the other houses.

"Fucking brilliant," said Ashton. "I love it. We can do a whole theme. Put an eagle on our banner, have helmets with wings, like those Norse warriors, swords, shields with eagle emblems, the works."

"Hey, Upton," said Nevin. "Clayton House is green, isn't it? Why don't you all go as frogs?"

"Sorry," said Simmons, realizing his mistake. "My mom's dildo is green, so I just kind of assumed they all were."

"You want an attacking, downward-swooping eagle or an ascending, noble-looking eagle?" Freddie asked.

"Attacking. Sports are about aggression. If I were running for parliament, then I'd want an inspirational eagle."

When Duncan opened his door this time, he simply grabbed Nevin by the sleeve and yanked him into the room.

"Well," Nevin said, "you seemed really keen not to get noticed, so I thought that 3;"

"Thought you'd dress up in a cat burglar costume? You're only going to draw more attention to yourself that way."

"Sorry," said Nevin. "I was just trying to make this easier for you. I know it's putting you out a lot."

Nevin decided not to mention the tube of camouflage face paint he had in his pocket courtesy of Uncle Robin's army days. "I said I was sorry."

Duncan massaged his eyelids. Finally, he said, "Alright, I understand. But you'll have to change. Borrow one of my shirts. And get rid of that ridiculous hat."

Nevin stripped off his T-shirt, self-conscious because of the virtual stranger watching him. Duncan handed him a grey shirt.

On the walk to Harrick's room they passed only three students, who took no interest in them. On arriving, Duncan took the key out and shoved Nevin through the door the instant he had it open. Duncan shut the door, sinking the room into darkness. Nevin felt along the walls for a light switch and flicked it on. Instantly, Duncan slapped at Nevin's hand, taking the light off.

"Yeah?" asked Duncan, moving right next to Nevin so that he could whisper-shout in his ear. "Didn't your smarts tell you that putting the light on would let everyone know we were in here?"

"Just stand still a while. Your eyes will adjust." Uneasy in the dark, Nevin reached for Duncan's hand.

"Listen, Duncan, I'm sorry I've buggered this up for you. I really appreciate you taking this risk and helping me out."

Duncan squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, kid. You didn't do anything worth getting angry about. I over-reacted. I mean, it's your first time, innit?"

"Nah, my first time was last year," said Nevin, deliberately misunderstanding Duncan.

Nevin had gotten used to the light by now, so he saw the stunned look on Duncan's face as the older boy caught the sexual dimension of Nevin's statement.

Nevin removed the desk lamp carefully, making sure to unplug it first and set it on the floor.

Duncan swept the desktop clear with his arm. Pens, CD's, books and a computer keyboard scattered onto the ground.

"There," said Duncan triumphantly. "Now, upturn his bed. I'll handle the closet."

Nevin stared at Harrick's well-made bed. The idea of deliberately desecrating it created a rebellion within Nevin. His arms refused to follow his mind's command that they grab the underside of the mattress and toss it into the air.

"What is going on with you?" asked Duncan, at his side with an armload of clean, pressed clothes.

"I thought I could. I had it all planned out. I was ready, I swear I was." Nevin sat on Harrick's bed, staring at the floor. "But I can't actually bring myself to mess up a bed."

Duncan dropped the clothes on the floor and sat next to Nevin, taking his hand. "You know," he said, "you never actually told me why you put Harrick on your hit list."

"Yeah," said Duncan. I can see why you'd want to get him. Slamming you into the wall like that 3;"

"Well, you're mad at Harrick, but I'm also hearing like you're angrier at yourself."

"Let me put it to you this way," said Duncan. "You take pride in being tidy, clean, neat 3;"

"So it's driving you crazy that you pissed on yourself. You blame yourself for losing control. I honestly don't think you'd be as angry if Harrick had taken out his cock and shot his own piss all over your face."

Nevin considered that for a while. "You know, you're probably right," he said, giggling.

"Look, kid," said Duncan, "Harrick's a right bastard. It was all his fault and his belongings are simply extensions of him."

Duncan got up and pulled Nevin up off the bed. He placed Nevin's hands under the mattress and then took a hold of it himself.

"No, really picture it. We've got him tied up and we're holding him and we're going to throw him against the door. Got it?"

Together, they tossed the mattress. It struck halfway up the door and then fell flat on the ground, the sheet sprawled on top of it.

"We're not done yet, though. Harrick's down and he's in pain, but he still hasn't suffered enough. Watch this."

Duncan leapt through the air like a television wrestler, bringing down his elbow as he landed on top the mattress. Nevin held his hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh.

"You try now," said Duncan, lying there on his side. With a yell, Nevin copied Duncan's move and landed next to him.

"Be quiet, you dolt!" Duncan said firmly. Nevin was finding the whole notion of him beating up Harrick too amusing and laughed.

Duncan seemed to get really agitated. "There's people coming," he said. "I hear them. Shut up."

When Nevin did not stop, Duncan clapped a hand over his mouth and rolled him onto his back. The stifling hand and Duncan's weight on his chest quieted Nevin. While they waited for the hallway to clear, Nevin looked up at the handsome face floating above him. He could smell the sweet, sweat-tinged aroma of the older boy too. He got hard in his pants. Duncan must have felt the determined stiffy, because he looked sharply down at Nevin.

The voices faded down the corridor. Duncan eased his hand off of Nevin's mouth, but it did not go far, stroking his cheek and ear. Nevin's mind raced as Duncan stared down at him with a look of longing in his eyes. Was this really happening? He had come here to his greatest enemy's lair to create havoc and now he was flat on his back and his would be partner-in-crime was looking down at him with intentions.

"Oh God, kid," breathed Duncan. The heavy, warm body on Nevin heaved as Duncan struggled to control his air intake. Duncan's face dipped lower. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since last night."

Nevin wanted this too. He stroked Duncan's side with one hand and pulled his head closer with the other. Their lips brushed and they both gasped. Duncan pulled back. "Shit," he said. "I can't believe I just told you that." Rising to meet Duncan – hanging off his shoulders in fact – Nevin brought their mouths together again. At first the kiss was tentative, Duncan moving his lips against Nevin's carefully. Then he twisted his hips, making himself more comfortable as Nevin felt Duncan's dick spring to life against his thigh.

In no time at all, Duncan was pressing his mouth hard against Nevin like a starving man and his tongue was hunting for its counterpart in deep thrusts and swipes. Nevin sunk into the mattress under the pressure. Duncan's eager hands were driving under Nevin's shirt, stroking his stomach and side.

Darkness all around, Nevin lay there in bliss, his head swaying under the attentions of his energetic lover. The shirt was hampering Duncan's efforts to reach further up Nevin's torso and soon Nevin felt it ripped open, buttons popping all through the bottom half. Another yank and Duncan had it all open. Nevin barely had time to spare a thought for his destroyed shirt before one of Duncan's hands came promptly up to play with his nipple.

It could easily have gone on like that, them just kissing and stroking and panting and moaning, forever. But Duncan eventually started humping against Nevin, who realized he wanted more. He wormed a hand free and slipped it towards Duncan's crotch, but could not reach between their bodies. The older boy got the message, though, and rolled onto his back, swinging Nevin on top of him. It was easy for Nevin to grab Duncan's zipper now and even to unbuckle his belt, as he rolled around on the firm, warm body beneath him, the two of them still kissing as if they never wanted to let go.

But let go they did, Duncan pushing Nevin upright. From there Nevin looked down at Duncan, who had an almost pained expression of arousal on his face. Duncan reached for Nevin's belt, undoing it, and the trousers, as Nevin rode on his thrusting pelvis.

For balance, Nevin rested his hands on Duncan's shoulders, savoring the rocking motion as the meaty lump beneath him slid about under his ass. Duncan reached to pull him in for a kiss, but Nevin resisted then, starting at Duncan's collar, deftly unbuttoned the shirt all the way down. Duncan was not muscled, but he was an athlete and his chest was strong and firm.

They kissed. Duncan rolled Nevin onto his back again and worked his lips in slow progression down the boy's neck and chest, leaving behind a tingling thrill with each kiss. Nevin ran his hands through Duncan's hair as the older boy reached his nipples then his navel. Duncan seemed to really like the little indentation in Nevin's stomach, using his tongue to play with it. It created a nervous urgency in Nevin that made him press down on Duncan's strong shoulders. Duncan submitted and tugged Nevin's pants free of his ass before nuzzling the boy's hard dick through his briefs.

The feel of that mouth on his sensitive boy-flesh, even through the cloth, was nearly enough to make Nevin explode.

"I'll be fourteen in a few days, yes. My doctor says that lots of kids get to fourteen without developing. It's nothing to worry about."

Nevin watched as Duncan looked down and considered the hairless boy-dick below him. With his hands behind Duncan's head, Nevin encouraged him to take the stiff little soldier into his mouth and he did.

As the sensation shot through him, it occurred to Nevin that all those times with Ashton, enjoyable as they were, had been merely practice compared to this. This was the real thing. No fooling about or experimentation, but raw sexual need and power. The warm, wet lips slid down his shaft with a leisurely ease. He thrust upward, unable to control his body, and slipped the full length into Duncan's eager mouth.

Duncan seemed to revel in his task, slobbering and tonguing as he sucked. His hands roamed down Nevin's thighs, setting his fine leg hairs on end and making him shiver. Duncan took a break to slather his balls, his nether region and the insides of his thighs with his tongue.

"Mmmmmnnnnhh." Nevin was getting close now. Soon after Duncan went back down on his shaft, it started. From his knees to his navel, he stiffened as currents of excitement gathered strength and then galvanized into a surge from the base of his spine right out the tip of his dick. He clasped his hands into Duncan's hair, his last conscious act before the waves of orgasm started crashing in.

He stretched out on top of Nevin, stroking his shoulders and arms and kissed him softly. Nevin was disappointed to find no trace of semen on his lips. He would have to keep waiting for his equipment to mature, it seemed.

For a while Nevin just lay there under Duncan, enjoying his weight and the feel of his breathing against him. Then he became aware of the throbbing cock against his thigh.

Nevin immediately climbed on top of him and placed a palm over Duncan's brief-covered dick. It felt huge and hot through the thin cotton.

Nevin leaned in, his mouth hovering and his tongue stretching to lick at the wet lips of the older boy, whose own tongue rose to meet him. Nevin decided to head south, for what he really wanted, but took his time. He licked at Duncan's neck, enjoying the delicate saltiness of the light sweat there. Continuing to stroke the rock hard dick, Nevin tongued his way to Duncan's stiff nipple, tweaking the one on his left with his free hand while circling the other with the tip of his tongue.

"Aaahhhhhhhh," Duncan softly groaned. He gasped, "Ooohh!" when Nevin nibbled at the hard little button. Duncan's stomach was smooth and firm all the way down to his waistband.

Nevin tugged Duncan's trousers down to his knees. The white briefs were practically soaked through by now. Grabbing them at the sides, Nevin latched on to the slick front piece with his mouth, tasting Duncan's salty pre-cum and sucking the thick shaft below as he pulled the underwear downward.

When he had slipped the briefs out from under Duncan, just the soaked bit at the front still in place, Nevin cupped the firm ass globes and massaged them slowly. Nevin savoured the moment. He knew he had this older boy totally in his control, and he was intent on giving Duncan maximum pleasure.

With his teeth, he grabbed the waistband and slipped the briefs off, letting the eager shaft pop into view. He nuzzled it, licking at the lightly haired balls hanging underneath.

When it got in his way, Nevin rose on one hand and pulled the briefs down to the trousers, taking the chance to admire Duncan's glory. His pubic hair was silky brown. The dick itself was thick and smooth. It resembled nothing so much as the fuel tank on the space shuttle. Nevin chuckled, remembering all the times he had pointed out to Ashton that the Americans rode into space on a giant cock.

"I can think of better things to yank on," said Nevin, smiling at Duncan. He took the hot, slick shaft in hand. He ran his thumb over the slit at the tip and Duncan stiffened with a gasp, making the dick jump in Nevin's hand.

With light strokes he pumped Duncan, prompting an ooze of shiny fluid which ran down his fist. He licked it off then followed the stream with his tongue, along the shaft, to the top. There, he circled the head carefully with his lips, making sure not to get any teeth on the larger-than-he-was-used-to glans.

Bit by bit, Nevin sunk down onto the thick rod. He made sure to keep on sucking as he did so. The flesh filled his mouth as he made it to within an inch of the base, before the end got stuck at his throat.

Keeping his lips sealed tight, Nevin pulled back to the tip, as slowly as he had descended.

Hearing Duncan's excitement made Nevin bolder. He ran his tongue around the underside curve of the dick. Duncan jerked in his mouth and Nevin swirled his tongue around the entire head, earning another jerk and a groan. Nevin circled the base of the shaft with two fingers, happy at the feeling of girth and worked on the head of the cock with his lips and tongue.

Soon he was sliding up and down the smooth skin just under the flared head and picking up speed. Duncan's body had gone quite still and Nevin sensed it was because he wanted to cum. Excited at the thought of making that happen, Nevin started pumping the shaft with his hand as he redoubled his sucking. It worked.

With whimpers at each pulse, Duncan shot. The cock seemed to throw a fit in Nevin's mouth, jerking around. He eased back to just cover the tip and swallowed as he sucked, taking each spurt with glee. Even after the orgasm had died down, Nevin suckled on the softening dick.

Eventually, it was Duncan who pulled him off when he sat up. Kneeling, Nevin kissed Duncan again, then said, "Shit. I shouldn't have swallowed."

"Tasted great," said Nevin, "but I should have spit it back out on Harrick's pillow."

"Thanks," said Nevin. "Now, let's hurry up and finish what we came here for before anyone catches us."

"Where were you last night?" asked Ashton, taking off his shoes after his morning run. Nevin did not answer and merely stared at the ceiling while lying on his bed.

"Fine. Be like that," said Ashton. "I actually had a quiet romantic evening while you were gone."

"We listened to Queen while we played," said Ashton, undressing. "Made a nice change from that Westlife teeny bopper shit you make me listen to."

Ashton tried again. "Mark said the weirdest thing to me this morning, by the way."

"No. Things aren't like that between the two of us." Ashton had stripped naked and was wrapping a towel around his waist. "We were just talking about random stuff and I asked him what it was he thought about when he wanked, you know, just to feel him out?"

"He didn't say he doesn't. Just that he tries not to. Keeping pure for God and all that."

"We just get along pretty well. It's not like this one difference makes us enemies, you know."

"Wow. You have changed. Weren't you the one who snuck 'Miss Deuteronomy' centerfolds into all the Bible club's Old Testaments?"

"Well those stuck up bastards deserved it. Mark's different. He's not one of those holier-than-thou types."

"Well, he still wanks – however rarely – and he never did tell you what he thinks of when he does it."

Nevin's eyes found Duncan first thing as he and Ashton and the others entered the dining room for breakfast. On the way to their table they went right past Duncan and a prefect talking in the food line. Nevin smiled brightly at the boy he had spent the night with. Duncan seemed not to see him, even though he must have, and seemed to redouble the intensity of his conversation.

Their words fell behind as Nevin sat with the others. He could not believe that he was being brushed off like that when just twelve hours before the two of them had been breaking all kinds of rules together.

There was no one at Harrick's usual seat. For a second Nevin looked around in a panic, fearing an ambush. After a while, he realized that the bully really was not present. Too bad, Nevin thought. I'd love to see his face this morning.

Friday afternoon was Ashton's first judo class of the term. Judo was one of the myriad non-graded electives offered to Tudor students.

"I didn't know you did this class," said Ashton as they changed into their loose-fitting uniforms.

"My first day," said Mark. "I'm just trying it out. I hear the teacher's a real hard case, but it seems like fun."

Mister Solomon was indeed a hard case. Ashton had taken his class the previous two years. He had enjoyed the quick thinking and subtlety judo called for and while Solomon could get overbearing, the teacher knew his art and imparted it well.

Being the first day, the workout was light. Mister Solomon was soon yelling in his Jamaican accent for the newer students to pair up with the veterans for some personal instruction. Ashton worked with Mark, showing him how to break his falls.

"This seems kinda silly," said Mark after a while, "to spend all this time learning how to fall down right."

Ashton swept Mark's feet out from under him so that his head thumped against the padded floor. "Now, if you'd known how to fall," he said to the dazed boy, "that wouldn't have hurt so much."

At the end of the session, Solomon called Ashton out to demonstrate the pin position on Mark. This involved Ashton lying crosswise over Mark as he held onto his lapels with his head and chest pressing down hard against Mark's torso.

Solomon was droning on in the background, but all Ashton could hear was the beat of Mark's heart close to his ear. Soon his eyes were closed as he got lost in the rhythm.

Next thing he knew, Mark was tapping him on the shoulder repeatedly. The demonstration was over and he had been in fantasy land.

While Ashton sheepishly stood up before the giggling class, Mister Solomon said, "Ah hope yuh lazy rass don' think that because yuh did lil sick yuh cyan come to meh class an' sleep 'way."

That afternoon, Nevin banged on Duncan's door, still amazed at how naïve he had been. The night before, he had suffered a short – but sharp – spell of doubt after he followed Duncan back to his room after they had trashed Harrick's. He and Ashton had always said they would hold out for the right 'one' before having sex (what they did with each other didn't count), but there Nevin was jumping into bed with the first guy who would have him.

But as he and Duncan slipped into the cool sheets, hands sliding and gliding over smooth skin, he felt sure that he had indeed found something right. The way time seemed to slow just for them made what he and Duncan shared seem truly special. Duncan was the one.

When he opened the door, the older boy smiled then quickly ushered Nevin in. The look of genuine warmth threw off the tirade that Nevin was about to fire at him.

"Wow. You're back," said Duncan, lifting a tentative hand to Nevin's shoulder. "I'm so glad. I was worried you might just see this thing with us as a mistake or a one time thing or something."

"Wait," said Duncan. "You're not just here to tell me that you're done with me or that you're reporting me to the teachers, are you?"

"All day?" Nevin shouted, his anger rekindled. "Why the Hell did you ignore me then? You saw me at least four times today and you never once said 'hello' or smiled or anything!"

Finally, Duncan seemed aware of Nevin's anger. "I'm sorry about not talking to you, okay? I was just trying to play it cool, you know?"

"No, I don't know. What I do know is that you were quite happy to molest me last night, but now that it's daylight, you're suddenly ashamed. I'm surprised you even let me in your door."

"I'm not ashamed. You're the best thing that's happened to me all year, alright? It's not that."

"If anyone finds out," said Duncan, stroking Nevin's hair, "we're done for. We have to keep this a secret."

"Well, acting all distant and weird around me is going to look more suspicious. Remember what you said last night about looking ordinary to avoid notice?"

Duncan thought about this for a while. "You're right. Avoiding you was kind of stupid of me."

"Okay. Totally stupid. You're right. It makes more sense if I'm your friend or maybe your tutor."

On Sunday, when the chapel bells started ringing, Ashton and Nevin headed north across the grounds of Tudor Academy. At the ancient wrought-iron fence that marked the school's boundary, they threw their knapsacks across and then climbed over.

A muddy, tire-filled stream trickled by there. They followed it uphill for a while until it was lost in heavy bushes. The boys continued, through a barbed wire fence that seemed right out of Ashton's World War One encyclopedia.

Ashton had never learned who this particular patch of land belonged to, but they hurried through it, sure that it could be no one pleasant. There was more barbed wire on the other side and then a broken rocky stretch of hill. Then they had to fight their way through thick woods with tangled undergrowth.

They seemed to come upon their destination almost miraculously after that. A verdant hill, overseen by a royal oak, looked down on the village of Gronding below. Tudor was also visible in the distance behind them.

Earlier that morning, Ashton had given a brief thought to begging off this Sunday's trek so he could watch the ongoing England and Australia match on the lounge television, but the weekly trips up to the hill were too important. Now, he was glad to be back under the oak.

As far as they were aware, no one else in the school (the world?) knew about this spot. They never told anyone about it.

As recently as a decade earlier, Sunday chapel had been compulsory for the students. Now, Ashton and Nevin sat against the tree, their legs splayed and enjoyed their Sunday morning quiet.

"So what's with you and Duncan?" asked Ashton after a half hour of dozing. "You really asked him to tutor you?"

Nevin told his story while they enjoyed two cans of Coke from the cooler they had brought with them. They saved the cans in their bags for recycling.

"Well," said Ashton when Nevin was done, "at least now I know why you haven't been giving me any attention these last few days. Does this mean I'm not going to be getting any at all from now on?"

"Well, we did agree that we'd stop doing it with each other if we started dating other people."

If there's a God or any kind of justice under the sky,
If there's a point, if there's a reason to live or die,
If there's an answer to the questions we feel bound to ask,
Show yourself. Destroy our fears. Release your mask.

It was well after lunchtime when they finally returned to the grounds of Tudor. Ashton left to work on his March Past costumes and watch cricket in the lounge, while Nevin joined some of the boys in an illicit poker game, sitting on the grass within a knot of trees. They played for candy and cigarettes.

Not long after, he saw Sheehan, the security guard, walk past towards the school. They all shut up, since Sheehan was the type who would report them to the headmaster. Sheehan must have been coming back from the woods that covered the west side of the school grounds.

Barely a minute later, Nevin saw Freddie go by, coming from the same direction. Nevin threw in his cards, collected his winnings and went after Freddie.

"I'm the fucking Batman," said Nevin with a sarcastic wave of his hand. "What were you doing out in the woods with Sheehan?"

"Well, Mister Sheehan 3; he said people might not understand him going for a walk with a boy; get the wrong idea, you know?"

"It's not like that. Mister Sheehan, he says that he sees me like a kind of son. He's just trying to help me feel at home here."

"And you believe him? You may be seeing this as something innocent, but I can guarantee you that Sheehan's only looking for a way into your tight little briefs."

"Ha!" Freddie pointed one scrawny finger at Nevin. "You're a good one to talk like that. You're having sex every night!"

"Well I don't think that there should be one set of rules for me and Mister Sheehan and one set for you and Ashton."

Just then, Nevin caught sight of the new gardener. He was standing over by the tool shed with a rake, watching the two boys.

Freddie turned, then said, "Oh no. He's watching me again. He always looks so creepy."

Nevin did not find him creepy. With his full, dark beard and strong shoulders, the man was indeed imposing, but seemed to have the air of a defeated warrior or an exiled sultan more than anything. Looking at the boys, he seemed like a man admiring lost riches.

"One of my guiding principles in life is to let people do whatever they bloody well want to."

"But that makes no sense!" said Ashton to Mark as they strolled back to the dormitory after their run on Monday morning.

The conversation was not going at all as he had envisioned. In the past week, Ashton had quickly realized that the other boy knew little about the concept of disbelief. Ashton had assumed that just being exposed to some logical attacks on God would get Mark to reconsider his worldview. After all, Mark seemed pretty smart.

The problem was that logic never seemed to enter Mark's consideration of things.

Ashton had started out with a version of the argument he had read in Shelley's essay on atheism. Being deliberately provocative, he had asked Mark, "So, you believe that all atheists are going to Hell?"

"But he never gave me a good reason to obey or believe. In fact, if I don't believe it's His fault," said Ashton, smugly.

"If I can't see proof of His existence in the world around me, then it's because He didn't give me the capability."

"Okay. Let's suppose I did try. That I looked around me and considered everything and, using the brain that God gave me, I honestly conclude that there's no proof for Him. How can He punish me for that? I mean, I'm doing the best I can."

"But how can you not see his work all around you?" asked Mark. "How else are you alive, if not by God's will?"

"No I'm not. My point is that sufficient proof does exist. The world around us is full of God's generosity to mankind."

"It's not possible to fail then. Once you truly open your heart to God, you will feel Him at work in your life."

"Isn't that reasoning backwards? I mean, before I start obeying something shouldn't I know it exists first?"

Ashton thought that this last thought might be too theoretical for Mark's belief in practical revelation, but the boy seemed to give it real consideration.

"I don't know, Ash," he finally said. "Whatever reasoning you use, it's still going to fall short. I may not be able to tell you why, but the Bible says that when Judgment comes, no man will have an excuse."

That was when Ashton had declared that Mark was not making sense. He had started the conversation with little more than a sense of idle mischief and a half-buried hope for Mark seeing reason. (After all, he was beginning to get a definite feeling that Mark did indeed like him 'that way', in which case religion was the only obstacle to them being happy together.) Now, however, Ashton felt like he could fight for his views all day long. Felt as if he was obligated to.

Ashton said, "You're still not explaining to me why your system of belief wants me to give my trust before they offer me the truth. That doesn't work."

"How do you know?" asked Mark, with that calm smile that was starting to infuriate Ashton. "Have you ever tried it? I mean, really tried it?" That stopped Ashton in his tracks. His parents had never been religious and had accepted his refusal to attend church – at age ten – without a comment.

Can I really say I've tried my best to find God if I never took the spiritual aspect seriously?

"Meals are compulsory, Mister Sinclair. We are responsible for providing appropriate nutrition while you are a resident here."

"It's because of my nutritional concerns that I avoid the food here, sir," said Ashton.

"That is hardly funny," said Pigstick in a strained voice. "You will present yourself for meals at the prescribed time or face consequences."

"Yes, sir," said Ashton, darting up the steps with Mark close behind. He made sure to utter a muted, "Pigstick," before the door shut behind them.

By eight that night the dorm was in chaos. Boys were walking around grinning like fools, talking loudly and being generally exuberant. Nevin had passed two water gun wars and one running pillow fight already as he made his way to Duncan's room. The masters all looked on in kindly indulgence. Even Pigstick seemed willing to let the boys be happy.

"This is a great day for England," Nevin overheard him lecture three impatient looking first formers.

Nevin did manage to notice that Harrick was not part of the festivities. The older boy had been walking around the school like a hole in the air since the trashing. Even now, he sat in a corner watching everyone with a face like a mask. Nevin had almost felt sorry for him a few times in the last five days, but the memory of cleaning piss off his shoes always pulled him back.

As he walked around a corner, Nevin barely avoided being run over by Mark and Ashton, alerted only by their singing. The two of them stopped when they saw Nevin. They had their arms around each other's shoulders and were doing a horrible swaying duet, taking turns with the words:

Nevin rolled his eyes. "Will you lot give it a rest, already?" he asked. "It's been hours."

Mark could not stop smiling. He said, "Do you realize that this is the first time since before any of us were born that England have won a cricket series against Australia?"

Ashton put on a faux public speaking voice and said with his head raised and a hand outstretched, "Ladies and gentlemen, today, September twelfth, two thousand and five, is the greatest day of my life."

Nevin just shook his head and walked on, while the other boys laughed and then resumed their song.

By the time Duncan let him through his door, however, sex was the only thing on Nevin's mind. Without even a word of greeting he held the older boy's crotch and moaned suggestively.

Duncan stumbled back against his desk and groaned. Nevin took delight in being able to instill such lust in him. He worked the zipper down quickly and released the cock inside. It was leaking a small river already. Nevin ran the tip of his tongue along the bottom of the shaft, collecting the slippery stuff. He made a few more passes to get it all and even more ran down from the tip.

Nevin ignored Duncan and took the knob between his lips, sliding it about. The heated flesh felt so good as he toyed with it.

"Wait!" Duncan held him almost by the ear and prized Nevin off of him. "I said wait, God damn it."

"Talk is good," said Nevin, sitting on the bedside. "In fact, I was hoping we could spend some more time just being with each other rather than having sex all the time."

"It's not that the sex is bad mind you," Nevin made sure to add. "It's just that we barely see each other as it is, and that tends to get us all charged up and then we just go at it like animals when we finally do get together and everything else gets lost in between. I don't even know your favourite colour."

"Yeah, him. I don't think he's buying this whole tutoring story you've been using to explain you missing bed checks and all that."

"No. I can't ignore him. Don't you see? He's got a lot of pull around here. He's even on the prefect selection committee. We can't let him get suspicious."

"We can't, or you can't?" asked Nevin. "I'm not trying to be prefect, you know."

Duncan almost seemed relieved. "Good, then we're going to have to take things light for a while. No more late nights after this."

"So," asked Nevin in what he hoped was a seductive voice, "this is our last night?"

Nevin knelt in the bed and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, looking up at Duncan from under his eyelashes. "So then we should make this a special night."

"They've all been special," said Duncan, sitting next to Nevin and stroking his thighs and bum.

Duncan froze. Eventually, he said, "I 3; um, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with having something – I mean your thing – I mean you, you know, up there. That's never really appealed to me. I've heard that some guys think of themselves as 'tops' and others as 'bottoms' and I think 3;"

"Oh, Duncan, I'm not laughing at you. Well, yeah, I am laughing at you, but not in a bad way. I was asking for lube cos I want you to do me."

Nevin reached for him. "I can handle it," he said. "You're not as big as all that, you know."

"Look," said Nevin, getting serious too. "I've known for a long time that I was goin' to do bum stuff sooner or later. I've been preparing."

"Ah, getting dildos is easy. And my uncle gave me pointers on how to use them. And I have. And right now I know two things for sure."

"What's the other?" Nevin groped Duncan's stiff rod through his pants. "I know the idea turns you on. Admit it; you want to shag me silly."

"You want to pierce my pulsing pucker with your steely sword of masterly manhood!"

Nevin tightened his grip on Duncan's throbbing 'masterly manhood'. "Of course I am. I'm always 3;"

Duncan reached in and kissed him hard, pushing him down into the bed. The older boy's hands gripped his shoulders and massaged them. Nevin purred, as he let Duncan take over, soaking in the feeling of the boy making love to him, their lips pressed together, their tongues slipping and teasing. Duncan unbuckled Nevin's belt, then unbuttoned and pulled his pants off. Eager hands stroked up Nevin's thighs to his briefs and then tugged them down.

The two of them were breathing hard now, unwilling to break from their fevered kissing to take in air. Duncan's right hand slid under Nevin's buttocks and squeezed. The warmth and pressure made Nevin tremble with need. Duncan seemed to get the message. He pulled back and kneeled between Nevin's splayed legs.

"Nah. That'd take too much time," said Duncan. He winked at Nevin. "Besides, I think you look really cute in that tie."

"The luckiest pervert on 3;Oooohhgghhh." He moaned when Nevin reached out and grabbed his bulging rod with his gooey hands. Nevin took his time spreading the slippery stuff about. The cock felt smoother and harder and more potent all slicked up. Nevin put more lube on his hands and went at it again. Duncan reached down and folded his fingers into Nevin's and they worked together to make him ready. It was together that they moved to Nevin's waiting entrance. With his legs held wide, Nevin let Duncan guide his fingers around the opening and then into it.

His own finger and Duncan's, side by side, slipped in and slowly twirled around, relaxing him and keying him up all at the same time. A couple of fingers later, they both knew he was ready. His skin felt like it was on fire.

Duncan kissed him. The other boy's left hand grasped his right one near his ear, pressing it into the mattress. With his other hand, Duncan placed himself at Nevin's opening. He eased forward.

"Mmmmmmnnghh." Nevin felt a short sharp twinge and then a sense of release as the tip penetrated. The two boys took a second to breathe, foreheads together.

So Duncan took Nevin's other hand in his and pressed forward. Bit by bit, the rigid pole sank into Nevin, forcing groans of tension and enjoyment from him. By then Duncan had been obliged to stop kissing him because of their height difference, but Nevin was quite happy to kiss and lick (and, on occasion, bite) Duncan's chest and shoulders as the older boy settled on him.

"Wow," said Duncan as they squeezed each other's hands. "You feel so incredible."

"Oh, yeahhhhhhhh," Nevin agreed. He felt so full. The warm human flesh in him was touching him in ways no dildo could ever match. His ass twitched at every little adjustment Duncan made and Nevin's legs felt weak.

They started slowly, not with Duncan moving in and out, but rather with him grinding against Nevin, the sensations from just that enough to make them both 'oooh' and 'ahhh', constantly.

As they picked up pace and Duncan's rocking gradually changed to thrusting, Nevin felt his hands pushed up over his head. Duncan hovered over him, their bodies grazing electrically against each other. The feel of Duncan's stiff member diving into him, parting his passage, was the best part of it all, though. Each retreat and reentry seemed to set his mind floating. He felt like he was out among the stars as he and Duncan moved together, Nevin rising to meet Duncan and Duncan changing his angles and speed subtly, but constantly.

Everything about the sex felt right to Nevin. He was making love. The magnificent, strong boy moved over him with tenderness, their slim bodies giving – and giving in – to each other. Soon, all Nevin was conscious of was his connection to Duncan, the constant sliding in his ass, the reassuring squeezing of his hands and the fleeting rubbing and bumping of their torsos.

Then, just as Duncan seemed on the cusp of orgasm, he withdrew leaving an empty loneliness behind. The older boy quickly dropped down to cover Nevin's lips with his. They kissed to the end, as Duncan rode along Nevin's thigh to his finish, spurting warm wetness like lava against the boy's tingling skin. They remained locked at the lips, tongues entwined as the thrusting died into shaking and shivering. Panting, they eventually broke apart.

"It's not that," said Duncan, bringing Nevin's hand to his lips and kissing one of the entwined fingers. "I just wanted to be kissing you when I finished. It seemed more 3; I don't know, fitting?"

Duncan smiled. He kissed Nevin lightly on the lips and then on his neck and then on his chest. Nevin heard him mumble as he made his way down, "A man's work is never done."

Ashton awoke in his bed with Mark cuddled up against him. It was still dark, since he had gotten into the habit of waking early for their morning runs. He did not need light to be fully aware of Mark in his arms, however.

They had calmed down from the victory celebrations late the previous night and ended up sitting shoulder to shoulder in Ashton's bed watching a movie on the computer. Before Ashton knew it, Mark had fallen asleep against him and he had let him doze, enjoying the feel of the boy's breath against his face. Ashton had intended to wake him when the movie was over, but he had dropped off early himself, feeling so much at peace with Mark resting against him. During the night they had maneuvered down into the bed, Ashton holding Mark and Mark leaning against Ashton's chest with his hands folded up in front of him like a rabbit.

One other thing was startlingly clear in Ashton's mind: There had been no bad dreams the night before. No homicidal trucks ramming him and no flames licking at him while he was pinned in his seat. Had that been because Mark was with him?

"Um, he probably went out early to get a shower and study. You know how he is," Ashton said.

"Oh, he makes it as soon as he gets up," Ashton said, covering his lie with actual truth. "He's pretty weird that way."

Of course, spending the night holding an incredible boy like Mark makes me something of a lucky bastard too.

Nevin also awoke with a boy in his bed. Well, actually it was in Duncan's bed, but that was not important. What was important was the warmth and smoothness of the boy's naked skin against his back and butt and the steely softness of Duncan's arms around him. Nevin closed his eyes and stretched out against Duncan and the covers, giving himself goose bumps.

By the time he was done squirming around he was flat on his back. A finger traced across his chest. He opened his eyes to see Duncan propped up on his elbow, smiling down at him.

Duncan's eyes were a dark-soft brown. There was kindness and longing in them; the promise of love hidden inside like a sleeping flower.

"That was great and all," continued Duncan, "but I'm talking about you. Just you, yourself. Here. I'm looking at you and I feel like you're the most beautiful, wonderful being on Earth."

The praise embarrassed Nevin at the same time that it thrilled him. Not sure how to react, he just nuzzled against Duncan's shoulder. He lay there and let Duncan stroke him as the sunlight blossomed in their room.

It was only because Nevin had to leave before the hallways were full of eyes, that they eventually broke apart. As he was about to open the door, his clothes all tidily back on, Nevin turned.

"I just want you to know that I'm okay with this being our last night for a while. I know how risky this must make things for you. I mean, Ash was teasing me about how you wouldn't want to take me on a date and at first I felt rotten 'cause that's the kind of thing I would enjoy, to just be with you out in front of everybody and let them know how I feel about you, but I know that the world doesn't work that way. I'm sure things'd be different if people weren't asses about sex and stuff, but that's not your fault."

"You know, a night out. Dinner, movie, a walk. That kind of thing. Most couples would do that all the time, but I realize it's not practical for us. I know that. What we've got now is pretty good as it is in any case."

"I think maybe he has a point," said Ashton. He and Nevin were in their room, relaxing after dinner. Ashton was waiting for Mark to come over. In the meantime, he and Nevin were talking about Freddie and Sheehan.

"Look, if it's what Freddie wants, then who are we to tell him no? What makes it any different for you and me or you and Duncan?"

"Okay, true. But what can we do? We've already warned him that Sheehan is a pig. If he wants to keep seeing the guy, then he's got a mind of his own, hasn't he? He's fourteen years old!"

"Yeah," said Ashton. "We've been spending a lot of time together in the art room."

Just then, Mark arrived. Ashton declined a game of chess and instead, they started the movie immediately, sitting together on the bed. However, it seemed they were doomed never to see the end. This time a random comment managed to get them tied up in a heated argument about the Book of Job.

"The man lost his kids," Ashton said as they got into it. "All so that God could win a bet!"

"But faith in what? Forget the camels and wealth he lost. Forget the sores all over his skin. What about Job losing his family? What's so great about a being who commits murder that would make you want to keep faith with him?"

"So because he's the creator, God can be a bully and a killer and that's all okay?"

"God exists on a different level of consciousness from us. How can we judge his motives?"

"Please don't tell me we're going to get to the 'God is a mystery' cop-out already?"

"It's not a cop-out," said Mark. "Us trying to judge God's actions is like an ant trying to comprehend a car."

Ashton was all warmed up. Few things got him as ready to get into an argument as the nature of God and belief.

"Look," said Mark, calm as ever. "The point is that God was trying to prove a point to us with what happened to Job."

"You make it sound so one sided. He gave back to Job everything he had lost. His suffering was only temporary."

The frustrating thing about a arguing about Mark was not his lack of logic. As far as Ashton was concerned all believers lacked logic. What really got to Ashton, however, was how hard it was – impossible, in fact – to get a rise out of the boy. Launching argumentative torpedoes was no fun unless they produced an explosion.

"Well, no," Mark continued, with the tentative yet calm air of someone who was in unfamiliar territory, but trusted his compass. "Still, Job knew his children had passed into the care of the Lord and then God granted him more children."

"You really think that you can erase the loss of a child that easily? It's not like losing a dog, you know."

"People who lose children aren't doomed to unhappiness, either. Job got a life of happiness in return for his faith."

Ashton felt like he was talking to a different person. This could not be the same Mark who he had considered compassionate and sensitive before.

"It would fade?!" asked Ashton. "You think any parent can stop hurting over losing a kid? That's an indelible hurt that Job had to bear so that his God could impress his best friend."

"Look," said Mark, "the Bible says that all Job lost was restored to him. That has to mean that his suffering was not permanent. So if 3;"

"You know of any human parent that would sacrifice their son to save the whole world?" asked Ashton. "I know plenty that would sacrifice themselves, but only your God would presume to offer up his offspring."

Mark finally seemed to get ruffled. Just a bit. He clenched his jaw and stared with slitted eyes at Ashton, but then that smile came out again.

"Simply this," said Ashton, calming down under the renewed friendliness from Mark. "The God in the Book of Job could not exist. He's too human: he's boastful, he's petty. He's obviously invented from human ideas about power and success. You know why Job can lose all his children and still be completely happy, just as long as they're replaced?"

"Why?" asked Nevin, who had been following the entire argument with an amused silence all the while.

"Because back then children were merely considered wealth. Losing a daughter really was no different from losing a camel. Those people's values are revealed in the God they thought up."

"You talk about how much parents nowadays hurt when their kids die and then you expect me to believe that people long ago were so different that the treated their dead kids like camels?"

"No, it doesn't. But circumstances change. Technology has freed us to be more moral. Consider 3;"

But it was too late in the night and they were both tired. The argument petered out and then ended with promises to continue later.

"Like him? Weren't you listening? The guy's totally refusing to think for himself. He's passing everything off as God's unknowable will." Ashton threw himself on his bed with a groan.

"I've seen you worked up before, but always at people's ideas, never at people."

"You damned well were. You think so highly of him that you get twisted up inside when he doesn't act the way you think he should."

One dream, one soul, one prize, one goal,
One golden glance of what should be.
(It's a kind of magic)

"No." It was four days since the Book of Job argument. "He's still coming with me for our morning runs, but he's not played chess with me in a while. I haven't seen him at cricket practice. At judo this afternoon, he partnered with Phillips instead of me."

"And he just isn't talking to me like he used to. It's like he's holding back. Not zinging me about my batting, not provoking me with nasty comments about Adam and Eve's kids committing incest and all that, you know?"

Nevin said, "I don't think all that stuff you're talking about necessarily has to do with you."

"Ha," said Nevin mockingly, "That's 'cause you haven't known him long enough yet."

"No, he's not. His is a deep and complex cowardice. And it's gotten worse this term."

"Let him be," said Nevin. "He's got this self image thing. It takes him a while to accept that he isn't a superhero sometimes."

"Mostly. Eventually it dawns on him that life isn't set up to be all or nothing and that he doesn't have to be the best at everything."

Nevin shrugged. "A week? A month? I still can't get him to play me at tennis anymore and it's been two years."

"So how was it?" asked Ashton. He was sitting next to Nevin under their tree, looking over Gronding. It was Sunday morning.

"Spectacular." said Nevin. "Hurt more than I expected, though. I thought I'd prepared, you know? But I guess it's different with an actual person and an actual cock."

I wonder how it would be with Mark's cock? Ashton smiled. I bet it would be heavenly.

Nevin leaned against Ashton and put an arm around him. Then Nevin giggled. He said, "The third time we did it, he was really 3; vigorous and I ended up biting his shoulder to keep from letting him know it was hurting. He was bleeding afterward!"

Ashton laughed out loud. Then he leaned over and ruffled Nevin's hair. "So you finally did the wild thing. Wow. I still can't believe it."

The two boys sipped Coke and ate cookies for a while more. They did not talk much. When they were done, they cleaned up the litter and packed everything away, including the Frisbee they usually tossed around. After they had shouldered their backpacks, Ashton reached over very formally to Nevin and extended his hand. Nevin took it with a smile.

Ashton liked chocolate cake. Nevin did not. Naturally, then, the cake they shared that night was chocolate. There were twenty-eight sparkling candles on it. Fourteen yellow ones for Nevin and fourteen red ones for Ashton. They leaned in together and blew out the candles as their friends, gathered round them in the lounge, cheered them on.

They made it as much of a party as they could. There was fruit juice with a leavening of smuggled vodka. There were cookies and chips. There was a laptop in the corner, where Upton and Simmons argued over whether they should play Beenie Man or Kylie Minogue. There was no dancing, though.

Duncan had come, Nevin was happy to see. The older boy had already given him a 'happy birthday' kiss – and blowjob – in the woods that afternoon. But, it meant a lot to see Duncan there among his friends. It made things complete. He watched Duncan talk to Ashton for awhile, then decided to join them. As he got within earshot he heard Duncan saying, " 3;need to talk to you later. I think I'm going to need your help with 3;"

Nevin could not help feeling a twinge of fear. He knew what it would mean for their romance if Duncan got his coveted spot.

"Well," said Ashton, "I wish you all the best." He slapped his hand down on Duncan's left shoulder in what would seem like a strong, friendly gesture to anyone else. Nevin, however, knew right away what Ashton was up to.

"Thanks," said Duncan. Ashton seemed puzzled, leaving his hand on Duncan's shoulder. Then Ashton smiled, switched sides and squeezed Duncan's other shoulder, while he said, "Anything I can do to 3;"

"Um, yeah," said Duncan, giving a nervous glance at Nevin. "Twisted it in training."

"Oooohh," said Ashton, with more fake concern. "Hope it doesn't affect your javelin throwing. We'll need you come Sports Day."

"In the meantime," Ashton continued, "you'd better go light on your, um, training."

Nevin glared the hardest he could at Ashton, but Ashton just smiled and walked away.

The lounge doors swung open just then, as two other boys arrived. Just behind them, Nevin caught sight of Harrick, staring through the door with an unreadable expression. Then the doors shut and when they opened again a minute later, Harrick was gone.

Mark was at the party too, Nevin saw. He spent most of his time standing around with the other boys of the cricket squad. Occasionally, he would go over to Ashton and they would talk for a while, but sooner or later, Ashton would wave at someone across the room and hurry away. Nevin saw this pattern a few times before Mark decided to stop chasing Ashton around the room.

The night came to an abrupt end early when Pilsich showed up. They had gotten sufficient warning to hide the juice, so it was just a matter of cleaning up the snacks while Pigstick stood by like a prison guard. With school the next morning, no one was inclined to put up too much of a protest.

As he tried to keep his eyes on the desk in front of him, Ashton's heart was pounding.

Mark was holding a little red-wrapped box. As much as birthdays were celebrated at Tudor, presents were rare.

"Thanks," said Ashton. He took the gift awkwardly from Mark and placed it on his desk. He went back to stacking his books. Belatedly, he noticed Mark's proffered hand and shook it once.

"Anyways," said Mark, breathing out. "School in the morning, so I'll head off to bed. See you at five-thirty?"

"Why are you treating him like that?" asked Nevin, standing near his bed and watering his plant. Ashton knew exactly what Nevin meant, but asked, "Like what?" and opened his 'Geography of Europe'.

"Well he isn't going to change who he is and I can't change who I am, so it doesn't make any sense encouraging him to hang around."

"He's a real believer, Nevin. He's not one of the hypocrites or glory hounds or self righteous pricks 3;"

"Even better then! When you tell him the truth about you, he's not going to get all hostile and stop being your friend."

Nevin smoothed out his pillow with three firm hand strokes then looked at Ashton. "Yeah, I kind of figured."

"Because it shouldn't matter. You had a big crush on Simmons when you first got here. You didn't stop being his friend when you found out he was straight." Nevin poured water onto Beyonce from his little green water can. Even now, the sight of the plastic plaything still amazed Ashton. Nevin constantly asserted it was the only proper way to water his plant.

"It's not the same." Ashton put the book away. "Being around Simmons never hurt like this."

"Your words, not mine," Ashton said. "All I know is that the idea that I can't be with him makes me feel like shit."

"Is this some kind of male jealousy and possession thing? If you really loved him you'd be happy just to have him in your life."

"Can you possibly imagine what it would be like want someone to love you back and not get it?"

"I know how it feels every time my mother calls me from Geneva or Cozumel or New York or wherever she and the latest asshole are off to, so she can tell me she can't make it to visit me. I know I still love her and I still enjoy it when I can be with her."

Ashton could not help being a little mean. "Yes, well, you're stuck with your mother. You have to make the best of what you've got. I don't have to get involved in any no-win situations."

Nevin counted off on his fingers: "You can't win at chess, so you quit that. You can't win at loving Mark, so you quit that. And don't think I don't know why you aren't going to cricket practice anymore."

"You can run. You can jump. You've got the full range of motion in your arm. You're just not as strong is all."

"You can still play. Your problem is you know that if you go out there, you won't be one hundred percent. You're afraid to let people see you be less than your old self."

"Don't look so shocked," said Nevin. "You may not want to talk to me about it, but I'm sleeping right here and I've got eyes and ears."

Nevin's anger made more sense now. Mark had just been an excuse for him to blow up.

Ashton said, "It's not that I don't want to tell you about the 3; dreams, Nevin. Don't get the wrong idea."

Ashton continued, "Sometimes stuff has to settle inside you first before you can talk about it."

"Okay. But it better happen or I'm goin' to ask you about it on the hill and then you'll have to talk to me about it."

Nevin set about his nightly ritual checking for incomplete assignments. Ashton sought to lighten the mood.

"You know," he told Nevin, "next time you can just come out and tell me if something's bothering you. No need to make up problems like this Mark thing."

"I don't mind. Besides, if you really feel so deeply about him, then he belongs there too."

Monday morning, Nevin saw Freddie talking with Sheehan at the guard's station near the front door. The beefy man seemed to be restraining the boy, holding him by the wrist. Just as Nevin was about to charge over and demand that Sheehan let him go, the man leaned down and whispered in Freddie's ear. The boy giggled and blushed. Freddie said something quietly to Sheehan. Again, the man's whispers brought about giggles and blushes. Then Freddie left for class, but not before Sheehan ran a possessive hand down his back.

It was at cricket practice that afternoon that Duncan came to Ashton with his problem. Ashton had been standing on the boundary for a half an hour watching Mark put on his usual brisk and athletic display in the field.

"Oh, I just said that because Nevin was there. I actually need help with a little surprise I'm planning for him."

So, Duncan explained. The solution seemed rather straightforward to Ashton and they soon sorted it all out.

"You know," said Duncan, "I was really upset when I found out that Nevin had told you about us. Livid, in fact."

"He mentioned that," said Ashton. "Something about smoke coming out of your ears."

"Well, I'm paranoid, you see. But I'm starting to think it's a good thing he told you. I can see why he trusts you so completely."

"No. You know what?" said Ashton. "Forget what I just said. I don't want to be sarcastic today. You do look good out there."

A raised eyebrow from Mark caused Ashton to add, "Your fielding I mean. You move pretty smartly. I think the team is going to gain a lot just from your energy."

"Well, Nevin and I have this place. A hill in the woods. We go there on Sunday mornings to relax. Throw a Frisbee around, chat, soak in nature – that kind of thing. We were hoping you'd join us next time."

"Don't worry about it," said Mark. "Tell you what. I can always go to an early service. What time do you usually leave?"

"I want you to come too, of course," said Ashton. "I mean, I want you to come."

Nevin almost regretted suggesting that Mark come along that Sunday. He quickly felt like an extra wheel as the other two boys slipped into sports talk. He tried to tune it out. Whenever that failed, he reminded himself that Mark was having an excellent influence on Ashton. Nevin had seen more and more of the old Ashton in the last week. Ashton had his pride back, it seemed. Instead of making him retreat now, Mark's presence seemed to push Ashton to be competitive and involved. Ashton had even smiled and joked his way through losing chess games galore to Mark. In fact, his confidence and self-belief had inspired Ashton's first ever win, two days before.

Nevin ignored him. "Mark," he said, "this is our hill. Our hill has rules. You always have to speak the truth and you have to answer any questions asked of you. Ashton and I are bound by those rules here, even when speaking to you."

Alarm spread all over Ashton's face, Nevin saw. He was glad. This was perfect payback for making Nevin lose out on sex that week. (Duncan had actually taken Ashton's advice seriously and was resting his shoulder by refusing to get physical with Nevin.)

"You're our guest, however," Nevin continued. "It's up to you if you want to follow those rules, but you have to tell us if you will, before we go up."

"You're not going to ask me any weird questions, are you? Like have I ever seen my grandparents having sex and what not?"

"We might ask you about anything," said Nevin, "but it's not going to be an interrogation."

Mark took a while before he nodded his head. "Fine. Let's try this unrestrained honesty thing, then."

At first, they played a bit of three way Frisbee, but Nevin soon became uncomfortable. The other two had gotten too seriously into it and were actually trying to hit each other in the throat from the look of things. Nevin took a seat and munched on a cookie. Mark and Ashton did not seem to miss him.

Around him, Nevin could hear a few bird chirps. The leaves were glowing in the sunlight, but were not the same spectacular green of two weeks earlier. Nevin realized he might well be standing in the middle of the last surviving day of summer. The other two had ceased their attempts at murder by Frisbee and were on the grass not far from Nevin, looking down on the village. He caught snippets of their conversations over the next hour.

" 3;thought I was going to die when I saw that cement truck bearing down," said Ashton. "I was terrified 3;"

" 3;best mountain in the world for climbing, if you're just interested in views 3;" said Mark.

" 3;last thing I ever expected to find there. So, of course, I panicked 3;" he heard Ashton say.

" 3;the new Bugatti that'll be out next year," said Mark. "Saw it on 'Top Gear' last month 3;"

" 3;doesn't have what it takes to captain England, whatever his skill. In any case, Flintoff's better off if 3;"

"No," said Mark. "Dad always insisted we go to church on Sundays, but that was just so he could be seen by all the right people. Good for business, you know. I don't think my father's ever actually taken God seriously."

"Well, that's why Brother Gerry's so important to me" said Mark. "Dad insisted I attended church camp and I was so frightened that first time. I was only seven. Gerry really made the whole thing feel safe and fun. And by the end of the summer, I knew that he was the kind of man I wanted to be."

Mark laughed. "Well, no. The priesthood's never seemed likely to me. Besides, Dad'd have a fit. He wants me to be his great and wonderful heir. Marry some big-hipped girl with the right bloodline and have lots of babies."

"I'd like a family, I think. I mean a real family – not the setup I've got now. What I mean is a few people who look out for each other, love each other, have an interest in what the others really think and feel."

"You don't need a family for that," said Ashton. "Most of the guys at Tudor will give you that much."

"Yeah, but family is people who belong with each other, not a bunch of rejects thrown together to make what they can of life."

"No, but with the way Dad's always stationed abroad and Mum's got such irregular hours at the hospital, it just makes more sense. I don't see it as being rejected. Nevin might have a case for rejection with his family life, except he's wanted to come here since he could talk. That's because his Uncle Robin was a student here, you see."

"Kind of. My father's always pushing. Like who I am and who I was born as aren't good enough. Like I won't ever be good enough until I finish his programme for my life. If I had been good enough, he'd never have sent me here."

By lunchtime all three of them were dozing in the shade. Nevin had made sure to bring sandwiches, but not for himself. He left the other two behind and headed back to the school.

"I can see Tudor from here," said Mark, as he munched on his beef curry sandwich. Ashton followed his gaze out to the grey rooftops of the school in the distance.

"I didn't like it here at first, either," said Ashton. "It's only when I met Nevin that I started to settle in."

"You seem so natural at dealing with people. I mean, they love you. All the guys. Everyone wants to be your friend. Even Pilsich seems to let you get away with things no one else could. It's like some kind of magic. It's 3;"

Ashton laughed. Then he started humming. Mark quickly picked up the tune and saw the humour in what he had said. He joined Ashton in Queen's 'It's a Kind of Magic'.

As they hummed – and then broke into the words of the song – they swayed together, shoulders jostling.

"Blasphemy!" screamed Ashton and leapt on Mark, grabbing for his sides with tickling hands. They rolled around in the grass, grappling and laughing and twisting. Just as Ashton used a judo flip to gain the ascendancy, he felt Mark's finger slide between his shorts-covered buttock cheeks and poke him.

Mark jeered and ran off to the bushes at the bottom of the hill. Ashton chased after him in vain. Every time he seemed about to capture Mark, the boy would shimmy or slip away from him. At one point, Mark even managed to disappear completely into the growth. Ashton only 'found' him when Mark grabbed his legs from behind, upended him and ran off, chuckling.

When the chasing game came to an end with Ashton finally giving up, they went back to Frisbee throwing. Then they played two games of chess under the tree. They explored around the hill, something Ashton had not done much of with Nevin. Ashton taught Mark some judo moves, which quickly degenerated into another bout of squirming around on the grass and chasing through the bushes.

Before they knew it, it was sunset. Ashton had never been out on the hill that late before. As he and Mark started packing, the fireflies came out. Thousands of them. They seemed to come all at once and both boys stood in stunned silence looking about them. Ashton could not help himself: he stretched his hands out like an airplane and ran in circles through the glowing, buzzing cloud of golden life. Mark joined him, holding his hand, and the two ran themselves silly in the twilight, caught up in the swirl of the evening.

Eventually they got tired and Ashton had to rest. He still was not back to his old fitness. He took a seat under the tree. There were fewer fireflies now. As they thinned out, the exhilaration and freedom of the long day seemed to dissipate with them.

"Good. I've never been in real trouble before." Ashton sat against the oak, the Frisbee between his hunched legs. Mark stooped next to him.

"Act like nothing bothers you. I know you're just as scared of Pigstick as I am."

Suddenly the strain of looking into that perfect face, so close and still so beyond reach, was too much to take. Ashton stared off past the trees into the gloom that shrouded Tudor.

Was that true? Ashton's cheek and bravado had always seemed such a natural part of him. Was it really just a shield he had invented?

Mark brushed Ashton's hair back from his forehead, his fingertips staying to caress the top of the ear. Ashton shut his eyes and felt the stroke move down to the ticklish hairline right behind his ear and he shivered, stiffening and then relaxing with a sigh. His brain was limp – no thoughts at all, just the thrill of touch. Mark's fingers drew delicate lines to the front of his neck. Then it was just one finger, tracing under his jaw, past his chin and up to his lips, where Ashton kissed it.

"I'm sorry, Ash," said Mark. "I don't know what came over me. Let's just forget about this and leave."

"No!" Mark wrenched his hand free. "No. No. No." He hammered at Ashton's chest with each 'no', staggering him. "I said forget it!" Ashton scrambled to his feet and made another grab for his hand, but Mark shoved him with both palms into the tree, where his head snapped back against the rough bark. Even dazed, he could see the wetness in Mark's eyes before the boy walked away.

Ashton's chest and head went numb and all he could feel was fingertips on his face, burning his skin like a demon's touch.

It was at sunset of the next Saturday that Nevin, Ashton, Simmons and Upton stepped off a train into the nearby town of Taunton. Ashton was carrying his backpack. Nevin assumed it was for sneaking booze into the cricket ground.

"I'm still not clear why I have to make this trip," Nevin complained. He had been pressured all week to come along and given in to Ashton's constant demands, as he tended to.

"Because this is the first big 'Twenty-Twenty' match to ever come to Taunton. We can't miss it. Freddie Flintoff's goin' to be playing."

"Mark's busy," said Ashton flatly. "And as for you," he said to Nevin, "You need the fresh air."

Five minutes later, Nevin was surprised when Ashton told the other two to go ahead without them while he and Nevin dropped off a package.

The Castle was a genuine medieval relic, rehabilitated into Taunton's premier restaurant and hotel (with prices to match, Nevin was sure). Its ancient stone solidity and its airy modern lighting complemented each other well.

"Hello, kid." Duncan looked smart in a pair of black trousers and a matching jacket with a red silk tie.

"You know 3; dinner, a movie, a walk? Other couples do it all the time, I'm told."

"It's not nearly as expensive as you might think," said Ashton at Nevin's shoulder. "And as far as your clothes go 3;" From his backpack, Ashton withdrew a carefully wrapped and packed suit.

The other two laughed. Ashton handed the clothes to Nevin, pointed him in the direction of the washroom and then patted him on the back, saying, "Have fun, Romeo." Then he left.

For Ashton, the walk to the cricket ground was dark, silent and lonely. The stars were barely visible with all the town's lights around. At Tudor, there was always a sprinkling of bright dots in the night sky, especially if you snuck out to the woods, and Ashton had gotten used to the sight of them.

He felt lost now. It had been a difficult week for him and Mark. When Ashton had followed Mark back to school on that disastrous Sunday, Mark had avoided him, staying locked in his room. Ashton did not press the issue. On top of all that, Pigstick gave them both detentions for missing dinner.

It was not until they served detention on Monday afternoon that Ashton was able to speak with Mark again. Mark had missed their run in the morning and had not sat near him at breakfast or lunch.

At Tudor, detention meant work. In this case, cleaning in the kitchen. They mopped the floors in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. At one point, they both turned to dip into the bucket they shared and their mops collided.

Then it was back to ignoring each other. Each additional second of silence pricked at Ashton's mind. When he could take it no more, he turned full-face to Mark.

But Mark spoke first. "I'm sorry about yesterday, Ash." The other boy was standing over his mop, looking at his feet.

"Sort my head out? What're you talking about? You know yesterday wasn't what I'm usually like."

"Yesterday, you told me I was always hiding. Well, you know what? Whatever I'm hiding, it's no worse than putting some spare change under my mattress. You're trying to stuff the bloody Bank of England under yours."

"I'm not hiding anything," said Mark. "I just live a very controlled life. I have to. Tha 3;"

Things had remained tense, even so. On Tuesday, they had resumed their morning runs, but they were both careful with what they said to each other. Mark also seemed to stand an extra half step further from Ashton these days.

So, with these dark thoughts on his mind, Ashton arrived at the cricket ground. When he took his seat, Simmons asked, "What happened to Nevin?"

I'm a bloody useless wanker, thought Nevin. He had just tripped and had only been saved from falling by Duncan's quick hand. The maitre d' had led them through the echoing halls of the castle, past the dining room. Wondering why they had not gone in, Nevin had distractedly stared backward at the bypassed glass doors and had promptly caught his feet in themselves.

Duncan set him back on his two feet, but continued to hold him close. "Take it easy, kid."

They came out of a passageway into a large, subtly lit, walled garden. Hidden in a natural alcove of plants and trees was their table, a polished dining room fixture with matching chairs, which somehow seemed totally at home outdoors.

"No," said Duncan, pulling a chair out for Nevin to sit. "Your pal Ashton put this whole thing together. He knows someone here with pull."

The maitre d' left just as a waiter arrived to take their drink order. Nevin asked for fruit juice. Duncan sent for a bottle of white wine.

When the drinks and the menus had arrived they got to be alone for a little while. Nevin kept being pulled away from their perusal of the entrees by the sight of Duncan's thoughtful face. In the evening air, wearing his jacket and with the soft light glancing off his hair, the older boy seemed 3; golden. Nevin knew there would never be a blond James Bond, but if there ever was, he felt Duncan would be perfect. Eventually, Nevin gave up trying to read the menu and just stared, dreamy-eyed, at Duncan.

Duncan smiled lopsidedly and lifted his glass to Nevin. "Here's to our first date."

When the waiter came for their orders, Nevin still had not gotten around to inspecting the menu. He told the waiter to bring him whatever Duncan was having – which turned out to be some kind of fish concoction.

"So, how about we enjoy some conversation?" asked Duncan when the waiter was gone again.

"Ha. That's easy. I once got talked into sneaking into another student's room to trash the place and ended up having sex with a cute, under-age boy."

"Nothing, really. But Ashton and I both don't believe, so we think it's wrong to call on deities. But calling on God or Jesus is so embedded in the language that 3;"

"He seems quite passionate about being an atheist. Almost religious about it."

"Hah! He'd lay an egg if he heard you," said Nevin. "But you're right. You see, I'm pretty certain there's no God and that's it for me. Ashton keeps getting tied up in political implications."

"He might have a point," said Duncan. "The political implications of belief can conk you over the head pretty harshly."

"Oh," said Nevin, "you religious?" Then he said in a stunned voice, "I can't believe I never asked you that before."

"Yes, well if you keep up this idiotic 'no sex because I'm saving my shoulder for the javelin throw' crap, I'm going start moaning for my left hand pretty soon."

"I doubt it," said Duncan. "Your middle finger's got a lot of growing to do before it can replace me."

"Ever heard of a fist, lover boy?" Nevin asked. The shocked look on Duncan's face was priceless. "Anyways," Nevin continued, "What do you know about the political implications of faith?"

Duncan became serious immediately. "Well, I'm Catholic," he said. "And, I'm originally from a town near Belfast."

"My parents sent me here to live with my Uncle Bernie when I was nine. That's because some Real IRA shitheads blew up a bus near my school."

"No. Not my parents," said Duncan. "Me on the other hand 3; I was just a block away. I got a real up-close education in how thousands of tiny pieces of metal propelled at explosive speed can affect a human body."

"Three dead. Forty injured. There were people running everywhere with blood on their faces. I saw one man trying to put his eyeball back in its socket."

Duncan continued, "So when I started refusing to leave the house after that, my parents asked Uncle Bernie to take me in." Duncan sipped some wine with pursed lips. "Being Irish over here was tough too. I learned pretty quick to rein in the accent. I got beat up less that way."

Duncan said, "If there's one thing my life has taught me it's that there has to be order and justice in the world based on rules and society, not violence. That's why I'm going to be taking law at university. However much people may criticize lawyers as being greedy or devious, the fact is our civilization is possible only because we have a system of courts and parliaments."

Listening to Duncan speak like this reminded Nevin that Duncan had been a finalist in the senior school debate competition the previous year.

"So that's why you're so keen on being head prefect?" Nevin asked. "A resume builder to help you get into university?"

"No. I'd get into any uni I want as it is. Being head prefect just seems to be an extension of that civilizing force that I'm talking about.

"That's why I love Tudor," Duncan continued. "Even with all its faults, there's a sense there that man is more than just an ordinary animal – that squabbling for territory and striking out in anger are for lesser beings."

"No, I meant what about what we did to Harrick? That wasn't exactly civilized law, was it?"

Duncan seemed caught off-guard. Then he said, "We'll have to call that superhero justice. For jobs the regular authorities can't or won't do."

"If you start to accept one level of vigilante justice, then you set yourself up for people justifying bombs eventually 3;"

They talked for over an hour, through the excellent food and the even better desert of cherry pie. (They took turns feeding each other the pie.) Soon, they were just quietly looking at each other while they waited for the bill.

"We'll take a walk over to the cinema and take in a movie. Are you in the mood for something romantic or something funny?"

"Oooh yes. I love Christian Bale." Right away, Nevin felt self conscious over how much like a girl he must have sounded.

"He's alright, I guess," said Duncan. "I much preferred him when he was younger: things like 'Empire of the Sun' and 'Swing Kids'."

The bill arrived. Duncan gave the waiter a credit card. Then, he took Nevin's hand and they walked towards the garden wall.

"Forget Ashton for a while," said Duncan. "We're here under the stars in an ancient garden with no one else around 3;"

"Well, since you put it that way." Nevin leaned closer to Duncan, resting his head against the taller boy's shoulder as the strolled around, breathing in the fresh, grassy, scents of the garden at night. They had moved some distance away when they saw the waiter return the credit card to the table and leave.

The garden proved surprisingly private, with many shielding plants and arches. They took a seat on a stone bench under a bower and Duncan pulled Nevin close for a kiss. Nevin tingled from his lips down to his groin and he pressed himself against Duncan, wrapping his arms around his neck. Duncan always tasted so good. Nevin's cock stiffened and he shifted around to make himself comfortable. The spirit of the night seemed to overtake him all at once. The sense of newness and fulfillment at being on an actual date with another boy and the concrete proof of all that represented by the live, warm boy holding him made Nevin feel like he was in a fairy tale.

Lowering his hand told him that Duncan was rather excited too. Nevin pulled the zipper down.

Duncan groaned his disapproving acceptance as Nevin took his hardness in hand. The shaft was already slick. Nevin slipped to the grass on his knees and took as much of it into his mouth as he could. Slurping and swiping, he savoured the salty fluid leaking out. Then he closed his lips tight and moved back and forth along the slippery skin, sucking all the time. Duncan's hands closed around his head, stroking his hair, but letting let him set the pace.

As always, Duncan leaked profusely and as he kept up his rhythm, Nevin felt the liquid coat his tongue and leak down his throat. When it became too much for him, he lifted off, swallowed a few times and then sucked on just the head of Duncan's stiff cock. Duncan stiffened when he did so, tightening his grip and moaning in a voice that was straining to be quiet.

Eventually, Nevin lunged for the bottom again, resuming his slow, careful, up and down lip strokes. Each time he rose to the tip, he slid over it, circled the head with his tongue and slid back down.

Without a word, Nevin rose, unzipped himself and then shucked off his trousers and briefs in one move.

"No," said Duncan, looking around with renewed nervousness, "this is far too much of a risk. Let's 3;"

Nevin was on him in a flash. Without lubricant or preparation, it was tough for Nevin to take Duncan inside, but he had had some practice by now, so the spit-slick shaft went right up him. The pain flared, then ebbed away into the familiar full feeling.

Duncan was biting his lip. Nevin wrapped his legs around Duncan's torso as he settled. Sitting like that they were at eye level and Nevin leaned in to kiss Duncan. Nevin put his forearms on the older boy's shoulders and levered himself up with care. With delectable slowness, he rose on Duncan's pole as far as he could while they continued kissing. Then, just as slowly, he eased himself back down. His arms hurt after a few repetitions of this, but he knew Duncan was close and he just concentrated on kissing his lover, their lips wet and warm and slippery against each other. Despite their being (mostly) clothed, Nevin had never felt physically closer to another person in his life. It was like he could differentiate every strand of hair under his fingers as he stroked Duncan's head. As if he could feel every millimetre of slippage as he took and then released Duncan's hardness.

Deep, groaning vibrations in Duncan's throat signaled his release. Nevin could sense the boy's struggle to control his spasming body. Duncan's neck stiffened under the tension. Keeping up his deliberate pace, Nevin rode Duncan through his climax, both of them fighting for air, but fighting even harder to get their fill of each other's taste.

Even when they had calmed down, it seemed like their thirst for each other would not abate, and they pressed even closer, Duncan still embedded in Nevin. It was only voices nearby that broke them apart in the end. Nevin scrambled to get his trousers back on while Duncan zipped up and went to intercept whoever might be coming their way, before they could see Nevin's naked arse.

Walking into the train station, later that night, Ashton was still depressed. The game had not been the close, hard-fought contest he had expected and it had failed to take his mind of his troubles with Mark. He only hoped that Nevin was at least getting something worthwhile out of the evening.

Through the sliding doors of the train, he saw a tired-looking Nevin folded into Duncan's side on a bench in one of the carriages. He knew he could not let the other boys see that.

"Oh damn!" Ashton said loudly. Simmons and Upton turned to him. "I gotta go find a bathroom," Ashton told them.

Well, I hope Nevin's grateful, because Pigstick is probably going to hand me another detention over this.

Thinking about Nevin and Duncan and how close and satisfied the two of them looked sitting together brought other, more intense, emotions to Ashton, however: envy and loneliness.

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about,
Watching some good friends screaming, 'let me out!'

Nevin and Duncan were walking up the darkened path to Tudor's dormitories when the voice rang out. Duncan's hand tightened protectively on Nevin's.

Sheehan stepped into view. "Well, what's this, what's this?" he asked. "A couple of malingerers, is it?"

"We've got permission passes," said Duncan. He handed them over. Sheehan's face seemed even more toad-like than usual as he read the slips with his flashlight. When he was done, he looked up with a smug smile.

"This says you're to be out with three other boys at a cricket game," he said to Nevin.

"Not by yourself," said Sheehan. "Master O'Shea here somehow managed to escort you back, though his pass says he was visiting 3; relatives, was it? Quite a coincidence, that."

"Are you done?" asked Duncan. "We've done nothing wrong. The passes are in order. Anything else is none of your business."

"Don't get snippy with me!" said Sheehan. "Maybe I should have a word with Mr. Pilsich about your attitude 3;"

"There's nothing wrong with my attitude. I'm a student here and you're employed to 3;"

"Oh, you love that, don't you? Reminding me of my place?" Sheehan seemed to grow larger in his anger. "You all think you're so superior because your daddies have money 3;"

"Go ahead," said Sheehan with surprising calmness. "Hit me. I'd love to hear how you explain it the headmaster. I'm sure he'd want to hear all about the circumstances 3; You and the youngster sneaking in 3;"

Duncan seemed caught in two minds, as if he wanted to smack Sheehan no matter what the consequences. In the end, however, he dropped his fist.

"Typical," said Sheehan. "Twelve years I been working here. Seen tons of you arrogant bastards come and go, but you all bend over for me in the end. Some of you might squeal and moan, but that only makes it more fun.

"Just ask your mate Freddie," Sheehan added, with a smile at Nevin. Then the guard walked off, chuckling.

"I wish I'd listened to you," said Freddie to Ashton. His voice was dry and hollow. It was obvious from his sore eyes that he had been crying, but there were no tears now.

Ashton sat next to the boy on his bed. Nevin and Simmons stood by the closed door. Ashton put a hand on Freddie's shoulders and waited for him to continue.

"Sheehan took me to this security building on the grounds," said Freddie. "Everything seemed so perfect. I knew exactly what was going to happen. I was excited. He was holding me to him and telling me how wonderful I was and 3;"

"He started out by telling me to take off my clothes. I thought I'd do a strip tease for him. Seemed like fun.

"He just told me to stop wasting time and get my clothes off. It was like he was a totally different person. He was aggressive and impatient. I felt so stupid standing there naked while he just looked me over like a piece of meat."

"I don't know," said Freddie. "I had made up my mind that I was goin' to do it with Sheehan and I kind of felt like it was too late to back out. Plus, I was thinking that he was the one with experience, so I should let him take the lead and do things his way.

"But it only got worse," said Freddie. "He made me take his pants off and, you know, touch him and do things to him with 3; my mouth. And then he got me to lean over a couch and he just kinda stuck it in me."

"And it hurt. I was telling him the whole time, 'not so rough', 'not so fast', but it was like he couldn't hear me.

"And there was a part of me that was thinking, 'well I'm finally having sex. This is what I've been wanting.' Except it wasn't anything like I expected. Sheehan wasn't anything like I expected."

Freddie's dry recitation of the events finally threatened to break into tears. "Then when we were done, he just pulled his pants up and said, 'There's a washroom in the back where you can clean yourself up,' and he started to leave. I couldn't believe it. I asked him if that was it, if that's all there was and he said, 'I fucked you, I didn't marry you. Now, clear out before the next shift gets in.' And he just left."

Freddie's voice went back to being dry. "I should have just listened to you, Ashton. He didn't care about me. He just wanted to use me and I let him just 3;"

"Stop," said Ashton, firmly. "You didn't 'let' anyone do anything to you. Nothing about this was your fault. None of it."

"No. That doesn't matter. He played you. You couldn't have known better and he took advantage of that. That's all."

"And he won't get away with it," said Nevin. "As soon as you report him, he'll be out on his ass. He won't 3;"

"I don't care. If I report him, then my parents are going to find out. Sheehan's going to tell them that I went there willingly. They're going to hate me forever."

"Yes, they will! You don't know them. My father and my uncle talk all the time about how much they hate queers and how homos need a good whipping to set them straight and stuff like that."

Ashton decided that a plan of action would have to wait until Freddie's brain was back in order. He said, "We'll talk more this afternoon. In the meantime, Freddie, you don't go anywhere by yourself. Stay with me, Nevin or Simmons at all times."

"How can you say that?" asked Nevin. "You said yourself that Sheehan tricked Freddie."

"False seduction isn't the same as raping. Freddie never told him to stop and you know I don't buy into that whole age of consent nonsense."

"I have no doubt," said Ashton, "but we need to figure out a solution that's permanent and which protects Freddie at the same time."

They had missed their usual Sunday morning hilltop break dealing with Freddie's problem. Nevin was feeling as if Tudor, and the world as a whole, was no longer the sensible place it had always seemed. He left Ashton to search out Duncan. Duncan would make him feel better.

Duncan was in the chapel, talking with Pigstick amid the after-prayer tidying up. The older boy gave no sign of recognition as Nevin walked past. Nevin realized they were discussing prefect stuff and sat in a pew to wait it out.

Over in one corner, he saw Harrick putting away hymn books. Nevin had been vaguely aware that Harrick was in the school's choir, but he was still startled. He had only ever seen the choir perform in their school uniforms, not their Sunday morning cassocks. In the white robes, Harrick looked positively angelic, his face carrying a calmness and tenderness that Nevin had never seen before. When Harrick realized Nevin was watching him, his expression changed to a scowl and he left the room.

"Sneaking out on me like that was not cool," he told Duncan, when Nevin tracked him back to his room. "You're lucky I'm still in such a good mood from last night."

"Man, last night was a blast. We just have to find a way to do it again. Your birthday's coming up and then there's the overnight trip to Bridgwater carnival. We should be able to 3;"

"Last night made me realize that I was taking too much of a chance. If Sheehan was to make a big deal out it, I'd have serious problems. I can't risk that kind of thing. Not now."

"'Not now'? Oh, you dickhead. I could understand if you said you'd get into trouble with your parents or something, but this is all about getting your precious head prefect appointment, isn't it?"

"You're such a big fuckin' hypocrite!" said Nevin and slammed Duncan's door on his way out.

The only problem was that Ashton could not stop wondering about Mark. He missed the short-lived closeness. It surprised him how easily and quickly he and Mark had taken to each other.

Ashton had never respected lines of division between the adult world and the world of children, especially now that he stood on the border between the two, but he could not help feeling that Freddie's case was an adult problem. He and his friends were idiots to think they could handle it on their own.

I should just hand this over to Uncle Robin, whatever Freddie might want. He'd have this sorted in no time.

Then, of course, Freddie would have Hell to pay from his family. Things would actually be worse for him. In the end, Ashton decided to offer the choice to Freddie. When the four boys met again that afternoon, he said, "Nevin's uncle, Robin, is a cool guy. He'd make sure this gets handled without any fuss."

They were silent for a while. Then, Ashton said, "Nevin, d'you think Duncan would 3;"

"Fine," Ashton said. "Now all we have to do is figure out a way to let everyone know that Sheehan is dangerous without letting them know why he's dangerous and do it all by ourselves."

"I don't see why you can't just let it be," said Freddie. "No one has to do anything 3;"

"You think you're the first?" Simmons almost shouted. "There's been rumours about Sheehan for years. He's probably done this to tons of kids. Picked some poor sod who'd be ashamed to let anyone know what happened and then just buggered 'im. You think you'll be the last, Freddie? You really think that Sheehan's all done with seducing boys?"

This idea seemed to stun Freddie, but in the end all he said was, "I just can't let anyone know."

"Well, I don't care what you say," said Simmons, "We don't need your permission to report this. We'll just go ourselves and 3;"

"If you report this, I'll say you're lying." Freddie looked eerily calm as he spoke.

"I'll say that you're trying to frame Sheehan 'cause he's strict with you and that he never touched me."

Simmons went scarlet. "What the fuck am I trying to help you for, then? You're nothing but a twat!" Simmons left with a sound of disgust.

"Simmons doesn't understand, Ashton," said Freddie. "My life would be over if this came out. You have to make him see 3;"

"Freddie," said Ashton, "I understand perfectly. I've got an idea that could work, but it would need for you to be very brave. I want you to think about how much we need to stop Sheehan from ever doing this kind of thing to anyone else, and see if you can't help us." Ashton stroked the side of Freddie's face with his thumb. "Do you think you could do that?"

"I'm real sorry to hear this, kid," said Uncle Robin. "Romance is always rough. Especially for teenagers. Especially for gay teenagers."

"A regular break-up would have been fine," said Nevin. "I could have handled it if he said he didn't like me anymore. But for him to pass me over because of what people might think after he spent all that time talking about justice and fairness 3;"

"I never told you this, but he dumped me even before I came back to London. He couldn't handle the idea of being gay, so he just stopped talking to me one day."

"Look, my point is that when I came back from America I felt just like you do, that the world was just a giant dung pile and that I'd never get over what Jim had done."

"So what are you saying?" asked Nevin. "That you were wrong? That you've forgiven him?"

"No. Jim Eckerd was an asshole and when I think of him it still hurts. But because I let him sour me on love I missed out on a lot. Now that I've got your Uncle Kumar in my life, I'm happy again. I'm just sorry I waited so long."

"Yeah, but even if you hadn't waited, I doubt you could have met a better guy than Uncle Kumar in any case."

"Listen, Nevin," said Uncle Robin, "there're good men out there. Don't give up."

The next Sunday was too cold for the hill, so Nevin and Ashton switched their picnic site to the chapel's bell tower, which they referred to as their 'winter capital'. It was a wide stone tower with a winding wooden stair up the inside. When the bells for the morning had rung, Nevin and Ashton would climb up with a thermos each of hot tea to a small one-window room near the top. They kept blankets and cushions in two wooden crates there and were quite comfortable.

"Sure. Mark and I made plans back at the beginning of term. Neither of us wants to back out because we're both trying to prove how normal our friendship is."

"I'm not in a mood to go," said Nevin letting the steam from the tea blow up his nostrils with a calming warmth. "Everything seems so damned pointless now."

"Well it's easy to be optimistic when you're getting shagged by a stud like Uncle Kumar every night. What about us who live in the real world?"

"That's because you think I'm going to be giving you blowjobs again, now that Duncan's dumped me."

"No, I don't," said Ashton. Nevin looked accusingly at the tent in Ashton's crotch.

Ashton said, "Say, as long as we're up here all alone and all, you wouldn't mind being a pal and 3;"

"Keep your voice down, you soddin' idiot," said Ashton in a savage whisper. "We're in a library you know."

It was now the middle of the term and they were studying together for the horde of tests that always sprung up at this time of year. Around them were books covering at least five different subjects. Ashton's were a jumble. Nevin's were in small piles, stacked with the widest on the bottom.

"I'm sorry," said Nevin sarcastically, "it's just that I thought I heard you say that you just challenged the heads of both the Bible Club and the Islamic Club to a public debate."

"I was campaigning after dinner, trying to get kids interested in my HIV testing idea and Jules and Faizul started spouting shit about how those who live by God's commands don't need to take tests." Ashton shrugged. "So, we got into it. They really can be so ignorant sometimes."

"So who's goin' to be your 3;" Nevin's eyes went wide. "Oh, no. You're not dragging me into this one, Ashton."

"C'mon. Who else am I going to get on short notice? Besides, it'll be an excellent way of promoting the HIV testing."

"Why are you suddenly so intent on getting a group of fourteen-year-olds to test themselves?"

"Because," said Ashton seriously, "if we dress it up as an AIDS awareness programme, we can get Freddie tested without raising any eyebrows."

"Well, so far Freddie hasn't either," said Ashton. "We won't tell him 'til the last minute. That way he won't be worried for the next three months thinking about it."

"It's no use doing a test before that. It doesn't pick up the virus until three months after infection."

"I know that," said Nevin. "I meant that you expect us to keep Freddie from realizing that he might have been exposed for three months?"

Nevin found a note from Duncan under his door that night. He ripped it apart and tossed it in the rubbish bin without reading it.

Mark barely seemed to register his loss and just reached to set the pieces back up with an unfocused glaze in his eyes.

"You've just lost two games. The way you're playing right now, Nevin could beat you and he's still trying to figure out the difference between a rook and a castle."

Mark twirled a white bishop in his fingers. "My father's coming to visit." He said. "He's going to meet with all my teachers to find out how I'm doing, that kind of thing. And of course, teachers all have this way of telling you where you can improve, even if you're the best student in the class, so he's going to have lots of negative things to hammer me with."

At Sports Day, a few weeks earlier, Mark had gotten out for 96 runs in his cricket match. It was the top score and had given his team victory. The only comment Mark's father had made, however, was to criticize his son for not reaching the coveted century mark. When he had walked off the field, Mark had looked the complete opposite of a sporting hero.

"When I agreed to do it, I was just thinking that it was something different and new for me, so it seemed fun. But with my father watching, it's going to be completely different."

"His being here doesn't destroy your reasons for doing this," said Ashton. "From what you've told me about your dad, he'll criticize you no matter what you do. Might as well stop worrying about things you can't control and have your fun."

"No. But he's a good debater. Better than you even. Pilsich probably asked him to do it and right now Duncan would probably wipe old Pigstick's shit for him if it would get him that Head Prefect job."

They were walking to the football field after class. Nevin much preferred the constant movement of a ball being kicked about to the dreary standing around of cricket and he was glad the sporting seasons had changed.

Nevin caught sight of the tall, dark-bearded, caretaker – the one who made Freddie nervous – pushing a wheelbarrow full of cut branches. Whatever the man's strange, quiet, way of observing the students, he was always busy at some task or other and seemed to make an effort to stay out of everyone's way.

"Faizul thinks he's being devious," said Ashton. He thinks that Mark has an advantage because we've argued religion before and Mark's going to have a psychological hold over me."

"He might have a point," said Nevin. "Will you be able to go hard against your sweetie pie?"

Ashton smiled then said, "I doubt I'd ever have a problem 'going hard' at Mark."

The students were in the centre of the auditorium. To one side were the seats for the choir, now empty, and to the other were the teachers. At the back was a raised gallery for visitors.

There were many familiar and friendly faces in the crowd, of course, but Ashton had sent Simmons and Upton to town with Freddie to keep him out of the way, and he missed them. He had told Freddie that the trip to the music store on Royal Road was a reward for his help with the Sports Day costumes. After all, Devon House had romped to a first prize in the March Past with their eagle-inspired Nordic splendour.

Despite the coolness of the hall, Ashton sweated. The rivulets seemed to trace his scars as they ran down his back and sides.

"Look, half of the trick in winning this thing is going to be looking like we have absolute confidence in what we're saying."

The headmaster, Mister Dalrymple, cleared his throat at the lectern. "Welcome to this afternoon's debate." Dalrymple made some teacherly comments about students taking an interest in the world and then described the procedure for the debate. Ashton and Duncan would speak first for five minutes, then Nevin and Mark. Ashton and Duncan would then rebut the other side's presentations for five minutes.

When they were ready to begin, Dalrymple said, "The moot for today is, 'That all the students of Tudor should test themselves for HIV.' I invite Mister Ashton Sinclair to begin his team's proposition."

Index cards in hand, Ashton took the centre of the stage. His legs were weak and his skin felt tight. Off to the left, Mark gave him a smile and suddenly the floor seemed firmer under Ashton's feet and he was ready.

"Headmaster, teachers, students, good afternoon," he said. "The AIDS epidemic today threatens the existence of civilization. Only a reasoned, systematic, approach to combating this threat will save us. It is our contention that, here at Tudor, we can make our own small, but significant, contribution to this effort by testing ourselves as a first step to fighting back against this disease."

As he spoke, Ashton kept eye contact with the audience, looking at one boy then another, and speaking directly to them. Focus descended on him and it made him feel as if he was one half of a conversation rather than a man speaking to a crowd.

The main points Ashton made were that testing was a necessary prerequisite for the treatment of those who were infected and that widespread testing would help stop prejudice that hindered treatment of those with HIV.

"How many times," he asked sarcastically at that point, "have we heard the learned and intelligent among us say, 'I don't got to get tested. I'm not no queer.'? That is precisely the kind of counter-productive attitude that will get you killed! Testing here at Tudor would make us all aware that everyone is at risk."

There was enthusiastic applause when Ashton finished his presentation and took his seat. Mark had an admiring look on his face.

Duncan took the speaker's position and greeted the audience. Then he said, "I applaud my young friends in the other team for their enthusiasm." Ashton sensed a bristling in Nevin. "However," Duncan continued, "it seems that in their exuberance they have forgotten to take on board prudence and common-sense in their plan of action." There were giggles from the audience at the insult.

"AIDS is indeed a threat like no other," Duncan said, "with the potential to wreak havoc of untold proportions. Certainly, there are better ways of using our resources, however, than this puerile suggestion that we test school children? Are they suggesting that the boys here at Tudor are sex maniacs?"

"Oh, I'm sure we have our share of the, shall we say, hormonally overeager, but the undeniable truth is that HIV is sexually transmitted for the most part and we do not represent a sexually active population. The time and money we would wastefully expend on unnecessary testing could be used to prepare students for their eventual entry into the world of sexual activity. We should provide them the proper moral and educational knowledge to make the right choices about when to have sex and who to have sex with."

Duncan commanded his language and tone with precision. The audience seemed hypnotized as he led them through his argument. The applause when he finished was thunderous.

Nevin started slowly when he got to the podium, but seemed to hit his stride once his mind focused on the argument he was making. He was guilty of looking down at his feet too much, but in the end put over a clear message that voluntary testing was a good habit to develop early and that it would help to destroy the sense of invulnerability many teens had when it came to thinking about their risk level for HIV. He smiled with obvious relief when he had completed his workmanlike presentation and took his seat.

When his turn came, Mark approached the podium with a serenity that surprised Ashton. His voice was clear and strong as he introduced his argument, but he faltered almost right away with a joke about animals and men that seemed to bewilder the audience more than amuse them. It did not help matters that his argument switched almost immediately to quoting Bible verses. As he lost his grip on the audience, Mark resorted to reading his points in a monotone with his head down and the audience slipped further from him. His contention, that moral uprightness had to be considered when dealing with AIDS and that tests encouraged harmful sexual activity with a false sense of security, was lost on them.

Ashton kept an encouraging look on his face, but Mark never looked up to see it. There was only some polite applause when he finished.

There was a short break while they prepared their rebuttals. Ashton kept looking over at Mark when he should have been writing down points of argument and ended up nervously drinking two glasses of water by the time Duncan returned to the podium.

Duncan began, "We vehemently reject the argument that testing represents the best way of preparing our school's population for dealing with AIDS." He continued to attack Nevin's and Ashton's arguments, saying that they proposed misguided methods and that the supposed benefits they had projected were negligible.

When Ashton's turn came to rebut the other team's presentation, he began by tackling Duncan's part of the argument. "It is true," he said, "that there are other ways of approaching the problem of AIDS and even that there are more efficient ways. That is irrelevant. What matters is that HIV testing by students will be a preventative measure worth taking. Mister O'Shea says that it would be a misuse of resources, but he does not realize that the resources, both in time and money, which are required for an HIV test are very small. We lose nothing by pursuing a strategy of testing alongside any other approach Mister O'Shea may favour."

Again, Ashton used the attentive eyes of his audience as focus points. "The second line of argument put forward by the opposition is so absurd as to be shameful," he told them. "There are many who see HIV, not as the medical crisis it is, but as a battleground for their supposed 'moral' agenda. They see this battle, not in terms of lives saved, but souls. Abstinence is at best a marginally effective strategy and while I have no opposition to it, using that as our only strategy is a failure to mobilize all our resources. Further, I say to you that to oppose testing that could save even one life over 'moral' concerns is in itself immoral. Let God take care of the souls. We must act to save lives."

Nevin could not believe the effect the debate had on the school. It seemed like HIV was all anyone could talk about after the teams shook hands and the audience broke up. Over two dozen boys swamped him and Ashton, asking about their proposed HIV testing. He wrote down e-mail addresses and promised to be in touch.

The strangest thing was that he was now genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of testing. The more Nevin thought about it, the more he felt like this was something he should fight for.

As the crowd thinned out, Ashton caught sight of Mark and his father. Mark was staring at his feet while his father seemed to be berating him. The man was in a tailored, charcoal suit and his gold watch caught the light as his hand slashed the air continuously. Ashton got close enough to listen to what Mark's father was saying.

" 3;to put on a performance that incompetent. You're a Waterson, for Christ's sake. We're not some uneducated, low-class trash. This kind of public humiliation 3;"

"Mark did a great job," said Ashton, surprised at how sturdy his voice came out.

"I said that Mark did a great job. Public speaking is a tough proposition and he did pretty well for a first timer."

"I don't have time for 'pretty well'. Mark should 3;" The man finally seemed to realize who he was arguing with. "You're the Sinclair boy aren't you?"

Ashton looked over at Mark, whose was staring straight down, his jaw clenched. Even in his withdrawn state, Mark seemed more handsome than ever.

"Mister Pilsich mentioned you in our meeting. He seems to think you're a bad influence on Mark and now I understand why."

"Listen, young Mister Sinclair, I don't want my boy starting to think like you. I know what my son is capable of and I'm not about to relax my standards just because you're sweet on him."

All Ashton could think about was Mark standing there hearing this, yet he could not bear to look at him.

Waterson continued, "The fact that you're defending him only proves that you're willing to say or do anything to get his attention."

"You're such a fucking shithead!" Ashton shouted at the man. "I don't need to feel anything about Mark to realize he's a good person."

"And don't worry," said the man with fake graciousness as he turned for the door, "I'm not going to say anything about your language to the Headmaster when I speak to him next time."

Nevin saw Duncan from across the hall. He seemed about to walk over. Not willing to give him the chance, Nevin turned to get away. He bumped into James Harrick's chest. The older boy said nothing, just looked expressionlessly down at him.

Ashton had no idea what he could possibly say anyway. He sat down opposite Mark in the computer lab where he had found him. Mark's eyes were dry, but red. Ashton waited while Mark tapped idly at the keyboard before him.

"Pretending to like you because I like you? Are you listening to the shit you're saying?"

That Mark could ask him such a question with full sincerity, made Ashton's anger overturn any sympathy he was feeling for the boy.

"I don't know what to think. Every time I have to deal with him, I get confused. I start feeling like I'm seven years old again and the whole world is this giant maze."

Ashton rolled over to Mark on his office chair. He took his hand. "I'm your friend. I've never lied to you and I've never lied about you."

"We're friends. Nothing changes that. Whatever I may feel for you 3; you know, in other ways 3; being your friend is still what's most important to me."

Ashton was working problems in his mathematics book. Without looking up, he said, "I've noticed he seems to be kind of depressed since you trashed his room. You think he might be going suicidal or something?"

"Hardly. I mean that I'm worried he might try something with me. I'm not spending time with Duncan anymore. Maybe he's noticed and now he thinks he can go back to roughing me up."

Nevin was expecting Ashton to say something prattish, such as, "Don't worry, Nevie-poo, I'll protect you." Instead, Ashton just continued with his homework.

Nevin said loudly, "I said a big, hulking ape might be out to terrorize and murder me."

"You of all people are telling me I should have let some bully walk all over me?"

"No, but you're only free to do anything as long as you're prepared to deal with the consequences of your actions. It's like Mark likes to say: if 3;"

"Well," said Nevin, "it's nice to know us queer guys can be just as scared to admit they love someone as 3;"

"He had a lot to deal with right then, alright? It didn't seem like a good time to bring down another load of bricks on him."

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.

"You think I should wait before I eat?" asked Mark. "I'm real hungry, but I don't want to be throwing up later."

Ashton was strolling down the brilliantly lighted nighttime street with Mark. Around them, Bridgwater Carnival was in full swing. The scent of kabobs and fried foods drifted around them. Children and adults squealed and laughed everywhere as the rides whirled and twisted. It was three days since the two of them had spoken in the computer lab. Three days since Ashton had almost told Mark the truth.

They had started holding hands soon after they broke away from the main school group and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world – their fingers had brushed as they walked together and just been drawn together. Neither of them mentioned it, as if admitting to it would mean having to give it up. Occasionally, they got a puzzled look from a passer-by. A couple of young girls had pointed at them and giggled. But, for the most part, everyone was too busy enjoying the carnival to pay attention to them. They slipped through the crowd, not speaking much. Ashton just enjoyed the feeling of being close to Mark. It was warm for the first week of November, and the air seemed full of energy.

"I'm not big on rides," said Ashton. "I love this carnival and all, but it's things like the food and the lights that I'm here for. Rides tend to make me 3; nervous."

"Oh, come on, don't be a pansy. Let's go ride that one that looks like a demented combine flipping everyone upside down."

Mark hugged him around his shoulders and said, "Don't worry. You're with me. It'll be fine."

It felt strange to have Mark take a protective role with him. Ashton had always tried to stake his position out as the strong one, in any relationship. If Nevin tried what Mark had just done, Ashton would punch him in the ribs and find a playful, yet unequivocal, method of humiliating him. With Mark, Ashton felt himself quite willing to be protected and be the vulnerable one.

He let Mark guide him to the mechanical torture device he had picked out. As they waited in line, Ashton thought about how he had all but revealed his feelings for Mark that afternoon in the computer lab. He had stopped short of saying the actual words though.

"Thanks," said Mark casually. "You're not too bad yourself." Mark had improved steadily after his father left, regaining more and more of the calm demeanour Ashton had previously associated with him. Tonight, he seemed to have recovered completely.

Maybe I can tell him when we go on the Ferris wheel. In many of the movies Ashton had come across, it was always the top of the Ferris wheel that guys chose to make their romantic declarations. It seemed like the perfect place – isolated and calm. However, as things turned out, when Ashton finally did blurt out, "I love you," it was while pinned to his seat by centrifugal force, clasping Mark's hand for dear life as he hurtled through a blurred world of swirling lights on a stomach-churning ride called The Scrambler.

After that, nothing else mattered. Not the ball of cold panic as the ride threw him about in the air, not the looks of the other people on the ride who had heard their declarations and certainly not the implications of what they had just said to each other.

The rest of the night was one long high. They walked the streets of Bridgwater watching the floats, sharing food and rides and never letting go of each other. They stood together as the carnival climaxed with the Squibbing. All up and down the street, pyrotechnic towers of light sprang up one after the other. The hairs rose along Ashton's arms as he watched the spectacle and he entwined his fingers with Mark's.

At the inn, they had their room to themselves. There were supposed to have been four occupants, but Nevin and Freddie had backed out at the last minute, even though they had already paid their share. Ashton's body was tired, but his mind could not rest. While Mark used the bathroom, Ashton stared out the wide window at the lights, which were still blazing all over Bridgwater.

The Ferris wheel in the distance was done working for the night, but it was still lit up.

Mark rested his chin on Ashton's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. Immediately, Ashton's heart started thumping.

I hope he knows what he's doing. This could really damage him if he ends up regretting it.

Ashton turned to Mark and their cheeks brushed. They rubbed noses and Mark growled, "Mmmhn."

The sound seemed to flick a switch in Ashton's gut and the next thing he knew his lips were against Mark's. Tasting. Pressing. Yearning.

His temples throbbed with painful need and he held on to Mark's neck for dear life as their lips attacked each other again and again in a frenzy of lust.

There was no time for words – only groans and sharp explosions of breath. Ashton's senses were screaming from his closeness to Mark. He could detect every molecule of earthy, boyish, scent; feel every millimetre of silky skin; heat rose from their bodies like flames.

There was no speaking. No thinking. All they needed to know was that they had each other. Shirts were shed. Pants were tossed. Naked, they fell to the bed and melted into each other. Mark took the lead. With Ashton on his back, he licked down his chest, making Ashton 'Oooh' with pleasure.

Mark's lips on his nipples made him shiver. Mark's lips on his stomach tickled him into gasps. Mark's lips on his thighs sent spasms through his spine.

Ashton tightened his grip on Mark's hair as the boy reached for his stiff shaft. Mark began working on it with licks, then kisses, before he took the end in his mouth.

Mark reached between Ashton's butt cheeks as he sucked, teasing the pucker there. Tension and looseness pulsed through Ashton's body in alternating waves. Then his stomach tightened and he felt the approach of climax.

So did Mark. The boy let go of Ashton and came back up to kiss him. Again, no words were needed. Ashton nuzzled Mark under his chin, then kissed lightly down his neck. He turned Mark onto his back. Everything about the body below Ashton spoke of beauty. The nipples under his finger were just the right smoothness and size. They stiffened with just the right pertness as he licked them one after the other. Now it was Mark's hands gripping his hair tight as Ashton gave pleasure to his newfound lover.

But how could he call it giving when the feel of Mark's naked flesh under them sent thrills up Ashton's fingers? When the taste of that same skin was a treat for Ashton's tongue? No, there was no end to how much Mark was giving just by being with him. A sense of privilege entered Ashton's mind and he gratefully strove to repay the other boy. With an eager hand he took Mark's warm cock in hand, massaging it as he kissed down the boy's body to the base of the hard rod. His other hand stroked down the soft curve of Mark's back and over the firm tenderness of his buttocks. Ashton was fascinated with the feel of those globes and cupped them in both hands as he took Mark's dickhead into his mouth.

Immediately Mark shuddered under him. For a long while there was nothing in Ashton's thoughts but the penis running along his lips and the taste of Mark on the tip of his busy tongue.

The allure of Mark's bottom was too much, however. Ashton licked his way down to the small opening hidden between the buttcheeks.

With widening circles, he worked his fingertip inside. Too fast: he heard a gasp of pain from Mark.

Without a word, Ashton dove into his overnight bag and came up with a tube of hand cream.

Things proceeded quickly from there. Soon, he was easily sliding two fingers in and out while Mark moaned in pleasure. Ashton was ready. It felt like his cock would explode, he was so hard. He set himself over Mark, the other boy's legs spread to accommodate him. Somewhere in his mind was a sense of how much anticipation and disappointment had gone into this moment. The front of his brain was a storm, however, gusting with desire. He leaned down and kissed Mark while he guided his dick to the waiting rosebud.

Just as the tip made contact, Ashton broke his kiss long enough to say, "I love you, Mark." He did not wait for a response. He simply leaned back down to Mark's smiling face and kissed him hard.

It was time. Ashton eased himself forward. The cream made things far too slippery, though, and the first few attempts 3; missed.

Just as it seemed he would pop a blood vessel with frustration, they meshed perfectly and Ashton was inside the most beautiful, the sexiest, boy on the planet. The shaft slipped completely in with ease and Ashton rested against Mark, their bodies touching from head to toe. Ashton was lost in this moment of pure perfect union.

"Upton!" yelled Ashton in annoyance. He wondered how much the other boys could make out in the semi-dark.

Upton recovered. A grin spread over his face and he said, "Hold that pose, Ash. Simmons, go get my camera."

The two boys at the door broke into wild laughing, but closed the door. Ashton ran over and locked it.

"Don't worry about them," said Ashton. "They're jackasses, but they won't make a big deal out of this."

"Yeah," said Mark. "It's just that until they broke in here I wasn't sure this was all really happening." Mark looked Ashton in the eye. "This is really real."

With a whoop, Ashton kissed Mark and, just like that, all the wildness was back. They pounced on each other and Ashton kissed Mark again and again. This time it was Mark who said, "I love you," as they joined together.

As he slid into Mark again and again with a gentle zeal, Ashton noted everything about the beautiful face below him: The way the dark hair spilled across the forehead; The bright blue eyes, appearing and disappearing as Mark closed his eyes with each thrust; The smile which spoke of a peaceful, rested, mind. Ashton had found an angel at last.

They enjoyed each other's movements and touches, hands never in one place for long – as if trying to capture as much of one another before eternity ran out. When orgasm signaled its approach with a surge of electricity in his groin, Ashton shortened his movements, trying to stay in control. It was a lost cause. Climax blasted through him, forcing his eyes shut. Mark stayed in his vision, though. Images of Mark laughing, with the brilliantly lit city behind him; of Mark in tears after the debate; of his slim, swift, body leaping across the emerald grass at cricket practice.

With wild, bucking, motions, Ashton let himself go, stiffening over and over as he released his joy and love into Mark until there was nothing left of himself, it seemed. He came to rest against Mark's shoulder and wrapped his arms around the boy.

Ashton lay there in bliss. His body felt relaxed and fulfilled. He breathed in Mark's warmth and scent.

Ashton nuzzled Mark's ear. As his senses returned, he suddenly became aware of Mark's hardness pressed against his hip.

With one hand, he reached for Mark's cock, caressing it. With the other, he searched blindly for the hand cream.

After dipping into the jar, Ashton slathered the slick cream all over Mark's shaft. Mark took some as well and reached for Ashton's hole. Ashton lay back in the bed and let Mark take over. First there was the cool, quick, sensation of fingers slipping past his entrance. His body relaxed quickly, anticipation rising inside.

Mark kissed his stomach and moved gradually up to Ashton's neck with small, wet, pecks. When he was in place, Mark guided himself into Ashton. Ashton gripped Mark's arms tight as there was a flash of pain and then a long, lingering, sensation of being opened.

Mark's pelvis against his butt told him that they were as much a part of each other as was possible. Ashton held him there, soaking in the sensation as he shifted about under Mark. His movements got Mark eager to get going, however, and soon the boy above him was giving Ashton a sound fucking. His pace was brisk and the thrusts were deep. Still holding Mark's arms, Ashton clung to his lover. He tried to contribute in some measure, by tightening his ass, but he had no control there. He had water for muscles, his body helpless against the sensations of penetration, withdrawal, and thrusting.

Mark's breathing grew erratic. So did his motion. As he became more vigorous, it seemed like he was reaching new depths in Ashton. With a series of wild thrusts Mark came inside him, the two of them rocking against each other.

Both of them spent, they lay with Mark draped over Ashton. Even exhausted, though, it seemed like they could not get enough of each other. Mark's fingertips stroked Ashton's sides. For the first time that night, Ashton thought about the scars there, but not for long. They were irrelevant. They were not him. All that mattered was Mark. Mark loved him. No matter what, Mark was his.

Then, Nevin said, "It's funny how so many of the best stories of my life start with, 'Ashton'."

There were three slices of pizza left in the box on the table between them. Nevin doubted they could eat more, but it was only just past midnight.

"Oh," said Freddie. "Well, whatever it is, you're lucky to have him. He's splendid. It's been tops the way he's looking out for me. I only wish 3;"

"When I was with Sheehan," said Freddie, "he acted like he didn't care what my feelings were. As far as he was concerned I was just there to make him feel good. He was ordering me to do things to him and making me feel like some kind of servant and the whole time I was thinking, 'This is so wrong,' but there was a part of me that 3; liked it."

Freddie said, "There was a kinda thrill to being, I don't know 3; possessed, by somebody older and stronger. By a man. It's hard to explain why. I mean 3;"

"You don't have to justify it," said Nevin. "My Uncle Robin always says that feelings aren't right or wrong, they're just feelings. You don't need to explain yourself as long as you don't hurt anyone."

"No. When I remember what it was like, I keep thinking that it was awful to feel so powerless and so weak. I don't want to feel that way again."

"Sorry." Freddie looked about again to make sure no one else was around. He said, "Ashton has a plan for Sheehan and I know that it's the right thing to do, only it means that I'd have to get close to Sheehan again and I don't know if I can stand that."

Nevin put a light hand on Freddie's shoulder. "You're not that person anymore. You know better now. You know how it all works. He can't make you feel that way again. And as long as this is Ashton's plan, you won't have to take on anything you can't handle."

Though they fell asleep soon after making love, Mark and Ashton did not slumber through the night. Twice more, they awoke and inflamed each other with lust and love until they enjoyed the feel of the other bursting into orgasm inside them.

When Ashton opened his eyes next morning, Mark was sitting at the side of the bed, looking down at him with a thoughtful, admiring, gaze. The blinds were parted and the early dawn was nibbling at the mauve sky.

Ashton remembered how their lovemaking the night before had been so fluent and natural, like they had been designed for each other, instinctively knowing what the other wanted – knowing just where to touch and stroke and bite. He reached for Mark's side and stroked him. Mark surprised him by taking his hand and kissing his palm.

"I swore I wasn't going to do this – never going to get mixed up with a guy who had baggage. I never wanted us to end up doing something you'd regret. Now for the rest of your life you're going to blame me for 3;"

Mark smiled – that smile of assurance and quiet satisfaction that Ashton had come to adore. "Last night was a bit of pure sweetness," he told Ashton. The sunlight was like a halo around Mark's head. Ashton held his hand against his cheek.

"My life is God's, it's true," said Mark. "But, last night, I needed to have something for my self. I needed to know just once what was on the other side."

"Oh, you were fantastic," said Mark. "I was pretty worried when we finally went to sleep. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to let go of you this morning."

"When I woke up and saw you next to me, I felt like I finally understood life. You're wonderful, but I'm not afraid of giving you up. Heaven is waiting at the end of the road and God's love with it."

Mark didn't laugh this time. "Last night was a sin," he said. "I won't candy-coat it to spare your feelings. But 3;"

"Well this isn't quite going to work for me," Ashton said. "What's it going to be like for the two of us now? I don't think I can just go back to pretending we're nothing more than friends."

"Well, I don't know! You should have thought that through before you decided to commit your 'one time only' sin. As you keep telling me, everything's got consequences."

"No," said Mark. "That would hurt like the dickens. But I don't want you to go through anything uncomfortable."

"You mean like having that greatest night of my life only to get dumped first thing the next morning?"

"I'm sorry if you can't see it, but what I did was give you as much of myself as I possibly could. You're not telling me that you wish I hadn't, are you?"

Ashton considered it. "No. I guess not." He pulled Mark to him and their naked bodies slid together as they held each other close in silence.

Buddy you're a young man, hard man,
Shoutin' in the street,
Gonna take on the world some day,
You got blood on your face,
You big disgrace,
Wavin' your banner all over the place.

James Harrick cornered Nevin on Thursday afternoon. Nevin was backstage in the main hall, putting away props after rehearsals for 'Zombie King,' a comedy skit Upton had written for the Christmas concert. As he tossed three bloody, severed heads into a sack, Nevin heard footsteps.

There was a wild flickering in Harrick's eyes as he stood there in the doorway. There was no trace of the dazed air that had been with him recently. Instead, he was directing a focused, murderous, look at Nevin.

"I don't know how you did it," said Harrick, "but I know it was you that trashed my room."

Nevin did not try to talk him down. Something about the way Harrick approached told him that there would be no negotiations in this conflict, only pain. When Nevin backed up, the base of his spine banged into a table. Harrick caught up to him and pushed Nevin in the chest, which sent him tumbling over said table and into a pile of empty paint cans.

Nevin gained his footing quickly, after breaking his fall the way Ashton had taught him, and turned to face Harrick. There were two differences between this fight and the time Harrick had come after him in the washroom. For one thing, Nevin wasn't in the middle of urinating and, for another, he could see his enemy coming.

When Harrick lunged at him again, Nevin bent his knees and got low. He grabbed Harrick at the wrist and at the armpit and pivoted, pushing up with his inside leg. With surprising ease, the onrushing boy was thrown over Nevin's head and landed amidst a jumble of equipment, on his back.

Between Harrick's loud scream of pain and his own shock at having pulled off his judo move, it took a few seconds for Nevin to realize that the exit behind him was clear. Before he could run off, however, a series of quiet sobs from Harrick got his attention.

The older boy was curled up on his side, crying. The sight shocked Nevin. Just as when Harrick had seemed like a different person dressed in his choir smock, this sad creature on the floor could not possibly have been the same feared bully that everyone knew. Harrick noticed that Nevin was still in the room.

"Man, you sound like some punk in a bad movie," said Nevin. "Is there some training manual full of clichés that they hand out to bullies?"

"Go ahead, make fun of me," said Harrick, his anger replaced by despair. "You love that, don't you? You think that because you're smart and good-looking that everyone else is just here 3;" Harrick's jaw clenched in pain again.

"Are you alright?" Nevin asked, moving closer. Then, he saw the blood. He knelt at Harrick's side. A broken glass bottle lay on the ground, blood coating the jagged edges. Harrick's shirt was ripped and the skin just above his hip had been cut. The wound was not that bad, though it was bleeding. It was clear to Nevin that Harrick's tears were more from humiliation than injury.

Without asking, Nevin covered the gash with Harrick's shirt, holding it in place.

"I've got to stop the bleeding," Nevin said. "Besides, your shirt's already ruined."

Nevin considered the boy below him as he kept his hand clamped over the cut. Harrick had bright blond hair, cut short as if he were an army recruit. His nose was narrow and his ears were gentle curves.

Harrick looked embarrassed and Nevin regretted what he had said. Before Harrick could say anything, Nevin asked, "You think you can make it to the nurse's office?"

Mister Walters, the school nurse, asked no questions about what had happened. He only wanted to know what had caused the cut. After he dressed the wound, Walters left to gather his paperwork.

The two boys sat together in awkward silence. Nevin studied a colourful poster about Athlete's Foot, taking an occasional glance at Harrick.

Just then Walters returned. He said to Harrick, "Well, your file says your tetanus shots aren't up to date, so I'm going to have to give you one now, just in case." Walters opened the front door. "Nevin, wait outside please."

When the syringe was ready, Harrick rolled up his sleeve and looked away. Without thinking, Nevin took the other boy's free hand and squeezed it. Harrick squeezed back.

When it was over, Walters said, "Nevin, would you please make sure Mister Harrick gets back to his room and gets some rest?"

Neither of them said anything as they walked over to Room 338. Harrick unlocked the door and Nevin followed him inside. For the first time, Nevin got a good look at the inside of Harrick's room. The bed was flawlessly made and the books were all in neat rows. Nevin immediately felt at home.

When he returned, Harrick was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Nevin sat on the bed and told him, "Here, I've got the water."

After he sat up and drank half the glass, Harrick asked, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I don't know," said Nevin. "I suppose you don't seem like such a horrible guy right now."

"A little, I admit. But, it's not that. I just feel like I'm seeing the real Harrick."

Nevin stared at the ripped, blood-stained material in his hand. He started unbuttoning Jamie's shirt without asking.

"You probably shouldn't take a shower with a fresh bandage on," Nevin said, "but you definitely need to change this shirt."

Jamie stopped talking when Nevin traced his fingers along the edge of the bandage. Nevin felt a strange mix of curiousity, an almost maternal tenderness for the injured boy, and lust.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to stroke Jamie's face and then lightly kiss him. That unleashed a storm, as Jamie responded by kissing back eagerly. They hugged each other close as they continued kissing. Suddenly, Jamie pulled back with a gasp of pain, holding his side.

Jamie did not respond. He only reached for Nevin again. This time, as they kissed fervently, they made sure Nevin stayed on Jamie's healthy side. There seemed to be no question of how far this encounter was going to go. Nevin reached for Jamie's crotch, feeling the hard excitement there. He pulled the zipper down.

Jamie was fumbling at the buttons of Nevin's shirt. Nevin decided to step back and take his clothes off. After he had folded his pants and shirt and placed them on the desk, he turned around to find that Jamie had neatly folded his own clothes.

They both smiled as they removed their underwear and folded them too before joining each other back on the bed, Nevin holding a wrapped condom in his hand.

Nevin laughed. Jamie joined him when he realized what he had just said. Soon enough, Jamie's tongue was sliding up Nevin's chute. It made the task of properly placing the condom on Jamie's cock tricky, coping with the electric thrills shooting through his body from Jamie's tongue work, but Nevin managed it.

Taking care not to bump the wound, Nevin maneuvered himself around on top of Jamie and eased back against the thick cock behind him. He kept his weight on his own legs, so as not to place pressure on Jamie. He felt the other boy's hands under him, guiding his organ to Nevin's ass.

Leaning down, Nevin gave Jamie a quick kiss then sat up as he slid down the warm shaft behind him. He took his time, savouring each inch of the descent.

For some reason, an image of Duncan flashed through Nevin's mind right then, but he shook it off. He focused on Jamie's face. Beautiful, sad, wonderful, Jamie.

Their pace was necessarily slow because of the wound. That made for a unique intensity. Nevin's mind screamed for him to ride Jamie's pole at a gallop and he bit his lip in frustration as he stayed in slow-motion. Jamie held Nevin's ass cheeks, squeezing them with painful force as he too struggled to stay calm. Every now and then he would lose control and he would grind his teeth in pain as he tried to do too much.

They kept on that way, pleasure building at a slow burn, until Jamie rolled Nevin onto his back. With his legs spread, Nevin let Jamie gently fuck him at his own controlled pace. He reached up and took hold of the other boy behind his head, pulling him close and kissing him hard. Jamie's hands gripped his sides in response, again painful for Nevin. His hold only tightened as Jamie neared climax. He was going to have bruises when this was all over, Nevin was sure.

He did not care. He was lost in the sensation of Jamie's lips on his, Jamie's heaving chest against his. As the boy above him grew less and less controlled, Nevin tightened his hold, fighting to keep their kiss going and force Jamie to stay still. It helped only a little. With a profusion of grunts and moans, Jamie stiffened and spasmed, plunging erratically and deeply into Nevin over and over.

When the orgasm was over, Jamie gingerly pulled back and out, then slipped onto his side in the bed. There were tears running down his face.

Jamie did not answer. He only reached over to Nevin and pulled him closer. Nevin was acutely conscious of his own still hard cock demanding release, but he decided that that could wait and (carefully) snuggled into Jamie's body.

What was it about this boy that seemed so familiar? True, there was the fact that he seemed to be a fellow neat-freak, but there was more to it than that. Somewhere inside, Nevin was sure, Jamie was intimately familiar with the pain of abandonment and loneliness that Nevin knew so well. What they had found in each other, tumbling and stumbling, was solace.

Winter came early to Tudor that year. Students hustled to classes in coats and gloves. Some gave the janitor dagger stares and wondered what was wrong with the heating. Outside, the uninvited snow seemed grey, rather than white. So savagely had the cold hit that only a brave few ventured into the snow and they gave it up quickly. An abandoned snowman stood on the front lawn, still waiting for its makers to grant it a head.

The wind was moaning past the windows in the library when Freddie walked over to Ashton.

"Okay," said Ashton. "We'll need to plan this out in detail. Let's get Nevin and the others and go to my room."

On their way to the dormitory, Ashton asked, "So what made you decide to go through with this?"

"I like him," said Ashton. "Good cricketer. He's got a mean hook shot for a little kid. What did he say to you?"

"Nothing. But, I've seen Sheehan playing 'uncle' to him the last few days. I know how that's going to end up if we don't stop it."

The cold was as brutal as ever the next day. Maybe even more so, Nevin thought. It made shadowing Sheehan and Freddie through the woods practically painful. When the pair went into the security building, Nevin circled to the side.

Freddie had met up with the security guard earlier that morning. Nevin had not been close enough to hear what they said, but he could see that Freddie was doing a good job of pretending that he was happy to be talking with Sheehan. Their conversation ended when the morning bell rang. On his way past Nevin, Freddie said, "He's meeting me at the cabin in the woods at three-thirty."

Now it was three-forty. Through the small window, Nevin could see Sheehan and Freddie, but the insulation prevented him from hearing what they were saying. He did not need to hear, in any case. It was clear that Sheehan was ordering Freddie to strip and get on the couch. Nevin shivered even harder at the thought of how close and intimate Freddie was forcing himself to be with a man he despised. When Sheehan dropped his pants to the floor and ordered Freddie to crawl over to him, Nevin knew it was time. He fumbled around in his jacket and came out with the camera. It felt small and slippery in his gloved hands, but he had already turned it on and the plan did not call for him to aim it properly.

He flipped the camera around in a panic. He could hear Sheehan shouting inside, telling Freddie to suck his cock. Nevin had to hurry. The problem was that the selector switch on the camera was set on movie mode. He flicked it into picture mode and fired off a shot.

The flash was unmistakable to Sheehan, even through the double glazed window. The big man turned in amazement towards Nevin who flashed off another picture.

Nevin ran. Sheehan would be after him as soon as he could pull his pants up, he was sure. 'Operation McAllister' was well and truly underway.

For a minute, Nevin feared he had gone too far ahead. There was no sign of the security guard. Just as Nevin contemplated stopping to let the man catch up, Sheehan leapt out from behind a tree to his left. The collision knocked the camera from Nevin's hand as Sheehan tackled him to the ground. Sheehan's eyes lit up at the sight and grabbed for it. However, Simmons was there to stomp on his hand and pick the camera up.

Sheehan roared and sprang after Simmons. Nevin was back on his feet and Simmons made a perfect rugby pass to him. He caught the camera and ran for Tudor. Even though he had escaped, Nevin was in big trouble. He was supposed to have given the camera to Simmons, who would be fresh for the chase. Thanks to his over-confidence, he would have to take the camera to the second hand-off point himself.

The cold air burned his lungs and he could hear Sheehan thumping along behind him, ever closer. He could not give up. Even when every outward breath seemed like the end of his life, he kept going. Shouting up ahead let him know that Upton was in position and ready.

With a last desperate heave, Nevin thrust the camera into Upton's hand and collapsed in the snow. Lying there, he watched Sheehan chase Upton towards the next link in their demented relay race.

Fifty yards away from Ashton, Mark was running frantically, the camera he had gotten from Upton in his hand, with Sheehan almost within grabbing distance. There was no way for Mark to make it to the safety of the building before he was caught.

Sheehan reached for Mark, only to grab air, as the boy jigged left with perfect timing. Ashton could not help but admire the way Mark's dark hair flew as he whirled.

Already off-balance, Sheehan tried to match the turn and keeled over, landing in the snow amid an explosion of white. By the time the big man had recovered, Mark had gained ten yards and was grinning through his exertion.

Ashton took the camera from him at the door, making sure that Sheehan saw him. Then, he was off. Sheehan had no chance. He had just run all the way from the cabin in ankle-deep snow and was tired. Ashton on the other hand was almost back to full strength again after a term of training with Mark.

Staying comfortably ahead, Ashton led Sheehan through the school's ground floor into the deserted laboratory area. Now it was time for the hard part. Steeling himself, Ashton turned in the corridor and stood his ground.

Sheehan seemed too stunned for action when he realized that Ashton was ending the chase.

But Sheehan was too far gone into anger. He backhanded Ashton across his face. The boy buckled, but stayed on his feet.

"What's the matter, you smelly piece of pigshit?" asked Ashton. "Afraid of going to jail?"

"Hngh," Ashton grunted. "You hit like you've got a two-inch cock. No wonder Freddie said he barely felt you."

That provocation seemed to hit the right note. Sheehan took Ashton's neck in both hands slammed him against a door and squeezed. The man said, "Little Freddie-boy felt me alright. You better believe he felt me. He was bleeding like a river when I was done with him!"

Ashton flailed at the hands around his neck. He wriggled and squirmed. His vision was going dim. He did not know how much longer he could take the throttling.

Then the hands went slack. Ashton could see the horror in Sheehan's eyes when the man realized just which door he was holding Ashton against.

Behind Ashton, in red block letters, were the words, 'Chemistry laboratory supply room': The same room whose repeated plundering by Ashton, to make hydrogen sulphide stink bombs and magnesium fireworks, had finally prompted the headmaster to install a security camera. Sheehan knew he had lost. He had just been recorded assaulting a student. The soon to be ex-security guard turned and ran.

Freddie, Mark, and the others came around the corner soon after. Ashton was wobbly. Mark and Upton steadied him.

Mark wiped away a trickle of blood from Ashton's lip and looked at him disapprovingly. He said, "You didn't have to let him take it this far. You could have shown him the security camera after the first hit."

"Nothing like being certain," said Ashton with a pained laugh. Inside, though, Ashton knew he had been right to take the extra punishment. Anyone who saw the recording had to see nothing but a thuggish assault. That was why he had thrashed so wildly in Sheehan's hands when he could easily have broken free at any time.

"What I want to know," said the Headmaster, "is why Mister Sheehan was running after you."

Nevin looked around the office. Somewhere behind the huge wooden desk was the monitor and recording equipment that had archived Sheehan's beating of Ashton. "Well," he said, "I just took a picture of him pissing against a tree for 3;"

"Right. Well, he got all bent out of shape and started yelling about how he was goin' to kill me, so I just ran and he followed."

"Ash saw what happened and he took the camera from me so that Sheehan would leave me alone. He's a good friend like that."

When the interview was over five minutes later, Nevin went down to the lounge, certain that the whole investigation would end with no mention of Freddie. The other boys greeted him quietly and handed him some hot chocolate.

"So what's the news?" Ashton asked, his lips still half bruised. If there had been any doubt before, he had now secured his place as their leader.

"Dalrymple says that Sheehan's not goin' to go to jail," Nevin told them. "But, he's been put on a police watch list. He's never goin' to be allowed to work near kids again."

"Fat lot of good that'll do," said Upton. "He's too crafty to let something like that stop him from getting his hands on some nipper."

"I agree," said Ashton. "But we did the best we could. We should be happy with our victory. Tomorrow the war continues."

"Yes," said Ashton with a sober air. "Tudor, teachers, romance, homework, parents, cricket, sex zombies 3; That war."

The others laughed, but Nevin saw a quick look pass between Ashton and Mark. There was a deep flash of pain on Ashton's face and it had nothing to do with getting beat up.

Nevin wondered about his own heart. He and Jamie were fitting quite well together in the last few weeks, but Duncan's betrayal still clawed at him when he thought about it.

No matter how hard he tried, Ashton could not get used to being just Mark's friend. They ran every morning, no matter how cold. They played chess every night. Sometimes, when the prefects were not around, they would even play cricket in the corridors with a tennis ball. They talked about sports and Christmas presents and debated God and religion and politics.

But, they never talked sex. They never talked about themselves. It was as if the night at Bridgwater Carnival had never happened. Except that in Ashton's mind that night was still vivid and alive. He could still feel every touch on his skin; still remember the cottony smell of the sheets. He wondered how Mark could just dismiss all that had happened.

Except he did. Ashton could see it in Mark's eyes. Sometimes, he would catch Mark looking at him with an expression that seemed like feverish yearning.

At least there were the probies to torment. The prefect candidates were on probation for the next month, until the end of school. Each of them was trying their hardest to impress the faculty with their dedication and enthusiasm for keeping order. For most of the students, this meant being extra careful not to break rules, since the probies seemed to be prowling everywhere. But, for Ashton, it only meant a challenge. Probies had their bookbags stolen. They got stung in the back by cardboard bullets fired from anonymous rubber-band catapults. (The bullets were made thick and heavy and left burning, red welts.) One morning the probies opened the prefects' room to find that the floor had been painted grassy green and three goats were 'grazing' there.

Amazingly, Mark went along with most of these ideas. He even came up with some of his own, the best being a scheme that left half the probies with neon green left hands for three days.

When they arrived, the end-of-term examinations were, as these things always are, a quiet mix of dread and boredom. Nevin was spending a lot of time in James Harrick's room. If anyone noticed anything between the two of them, they said nothing, probably because of Harrick's reputation for hard looks and harder fists. Not that the boy had been acting the bully of late. In fact, since he and Nevin had gotten together, Harrick had been quiet and even smiled on occasion.

Nevin was studying for his Programming exam in the library when he realized that Freddie had been gone, visiting the bathroom, for a long time. The other boy had left saying he needed to take a piss. Perhaps he had needed to drop off something heavier, Nevin reasoned.

Something about the situation bothered him, though, so he got up to check. He got to the corridor just in time to see Sheehan pushing Freddie towards the basement stairs.

Nevin briefly wondered how the man had gotten into the building. Freddie was the real worry, however. He seemed compliant, if sullen. In fact, when Nevin started running towards them, Freddie caught sight of him and yelled, "No! Stay away."

Sheehan struck him behind the head and hurried him off. At the bottom of the basement stair, Nevin looked both ways to see where they had gone, only to have Sheehan clamp a hand on his neck. It felt like King Kong's paw.

"Not hardly," said Sheehan, pushing Nevin into an empty room and letting him go. "See, I know what really worries you little buggers. You're all afraid of Freddie-boy's parents finding out about how he seduced me. That's why none of you mentioned him when the cops were looking into that beating I gave Sinclair."

"Careful, boy," said Sheehan. "If you don't do exactly what I want, everyone's going to find out how much you two like stuffing cock in your faces. Now, I know that wouldn't bother you any, but Freddie-boy's dad might just kill him."

"Not much," said Sheehan, locking the door. "But, you cost me my job. I intend to get my severance pay of your sweet little ass. Plus it wouldn't be right for me to leave without giving a proper good-bye to my darling Freddie, would it?"

With a raging cry, Freddie flung himself at Sheehan, fists pounding at the man. "Leave Nevin alone!"

Sheehan grabbed Freddie's wrist, twisted the arm so hard that Freddie yelped in pain. When the boy was bent over, Sheehan kneed him in the stomach and then let him collapse to the concrete floor, whimpering.

"Let the boys go." The voice was a melodious baritone, with an edge of menace and more than a hint of some London university. The dark-bearded caretaker stood in the doorway, key in hand.

"Do not take me lightly. I am from the Middle East. I've killed before. I can kill again."

As big as Sheehan was, the caretaker seemed to need little effort to grab him and slam him against the brick wall. Sheehan fell to the ground bleeding and unconscious.

"Look, I can't explain why, but it's really important that nobody connects Freddie with Sheehan. I can't let the nurse see him."

The man looked hard at Nevin then said, "Fine. I have a medical kit in my office down the hall. Take him there and I'll look at him when I get back. But if it turns out that he's injured, he'll have to go to the nurse."

Freddie did not have much trouble walking to the caretaker's room. Nevin set him down on the cot he found there. The room met Nevin's approval. It was spare, with just a fireplace, a table with a small stove, two chairs, a refrigerator, and a bookstand – Erasmus, Paine, Marx, Auden – with a music player on top. On the wall was a poster of surfers on an Australian beach.

"Are you having any trouble breathing?" The caretaker asked Freddie as soon as he returned.

"Oh," said, Nevin, embarrassed that he had not thought to ask the man's name. "Sorry."

"Your friend seems fine," said Zameer. "His shoulder is not dislocated, just a bit twisted."

"Of course. I'll give him some painkillers and a mild sedative so he'll rest. Would you like some tea in the meantime, Ashton?"

Zameer sat on the bed with Freddie, giving him a glass of water and some pills. After he had swallowed, the boy held on to Zameer, who stroked his hair tenderly. In the meantime, Ashton put together a pot of tea, showing a familiarity with Zameer's kitchen that surprised Nevin.

"I can see why," said Nevin. "You're no ordinary groundskeeper, that's for sure."

They sat drinking tea for fifteen minutes, speaking little. Freddie fell asleep and began snoring gently.

"I came here last year from Baghdad," said Zameer quietly. He had apparently decided to trust Nevin. "I had owned a haberdasher's store there, but things got too violent. Hard to read with gunfire in the background, you see. Even harder to listen to music."

"I can understand that," said Nevin, "but you seem pretty educated. Surely you could get a better job."

"This is a fine job," said Zameer. "I have a garden, a greenhouse, lots of personal time 3; Plus I get great satisfaction from keeping everything in order for you boys."

"Zameer brought his money with him from Baghdad," said Ashton. "He's plenty rich."

Zameer stroked Freddie's forehead with surprising gentleness. "Yes, he is a very lucky boy," said Zameer. "Lucky to have such good friends."

Zameer chuckled. "I got that from 'Bad Boys'. Excellent movie. Very funny. Horrible sequel, though."

Nevin noticed that Ashton was not laughing, however. Something told him that Ashton knew more about the darker bits of Zameer's past.

Report cards and a few early goodbyes were the order of business on the final Friday morning of the term. Ashton compared his grades with Nevin's as they milled around the school auditorium, waiting for the last day special assembly. He had especially good marks in English, Mathematics and Science. Nevin had done well in Science, Geography and History.

"It was deliberate. My family has secret super powers and my father has asked me not to let the world know my true capabilities."

"Okay, first of all," said Simmons, "your super-farts are deadly, but they're not a real super power. And, second, you haven't really kept them a secret, have you? Hell, the entire science class had to run out of the lab that one time you let go."

"Hey, Jamie," said Ashton. "Aren't you supposed to be over with the choir?" It had been a shock when Ashton first learned that Nevin was now boyfriends with the bully, but Jamie had made a real effort to be friendly and was earning Ashton's trust.

Simmons and Upton soon took back his attention. However, Ashton could not help but notice when Harrick leaned down and whispered in Nevin's ear, a surreptitious hand on the boy's hip. Nevin grinned and the two went walking off.

"Stop grabbing me!" said Nevin in mock anger as he and Jamie stumbled through the door to one of the backstage rooms. "Someone might see."

"Sorry, Nevin," said Jamie, tickling his side. "You're just too cute to resist."

"That may be true, but until I check out this room properly, keep your hands where I can see them."

The room was L-shaped and Nevin wanted to make sure no one was around the corner. He was attacked before he could take a look, however. Nevin squealed as Jamie lunged and bit him playfully on the shoulder with a zombie groan. "Me eat cute boy!"

"Aaah! A sex zombie! Somebody help me, a sex zombie is after my balls. Save me fr 3;"

As he raced into the other half of the room, Nevin found Duncan sitting in a chair by the window with a sheet of paper in front of him. No one said anything for a while. Nevin did have time to note how the sunlight glinted off Duncan's hair, however.

"I'm going over my acceptance speech for the assembly." There was no need for Duncan to ask what Nevin and Harrick were up to.

"I've been trying to get in touch with you." Duncan folded the paper and put it away in his jacket.

"He makes me feel important and he makes me feel happy. You treated me like I was a heroin habit you were ashamed of. There's no comparison. Good luck with your speech."

As he walked out the door, however, Nevin could not shake the dismayed expression on Duncan's face.

"Does that make you horny?" Ashton flipped his eyebrows at Mark. "Because I could probably give you a quickie before the assembly begins."

"I'd love to," Mark said sarcastically, "but you're too late. They're starting."

Up on stage, the Headmaster and the senior teachers took their seats. The students formed themselves into rows by class and the hall went silent.

At the podium, serving his last day on the job, the current Head Prefect said, "Let us begin by singing 'God Save the Queen'." Nevin wondered whether the boy up there felt any regret at giving up his post or if he was glad to get it over with. Did he feel that his year as Head Prefect was worth the sacrifices he had made?

After working their way through some last minute announcements and reminders, it was time for the real reason they were assembled. The Headmaster took his time walking to the podium, as he always did. He also tapped the microphone and cleared his throat far too loudly, as he always did.

"Good morning, students," said Mister Dalrymple. "Today we say 'thank you' to the prefects who have served you so well as guides this past year and welcome a new group of prefects into the difficult, but worthy, task of supervising the student populace here at the Tudor Academy."

The ceremony was simple. Each new prefect received a pin shaped like a lantern which was placed on their lapel by a member of the outgoing prefect body. Duncan was the last to receive his. As was customary, the new Head Prefect took the podium to address the school.

"Headmaster, teachers, fellow students of Tudor." Duncan had not removed the prepared speech from his jacket, Nevin noted. He seemed hesitant and nervous as he continued. "It seems like I've dreamed of this moment since I first got to this school. For me, being a prefect has always been symbolic of what is best about Tudor – a dedication to civilization and decency. Now, the faculty have graciously asked me to be head of this fine institution, the Prefect Body. They feel I have the requisite decency.

"Yet, there is a young man in the audience today who knows the truth about me. He alone sees that, as I stand here before you, I am not worthy of this honour."

"You see, in my zeal to gain this position, I forgot that decency and civilization are only important because they are the foundation for love and happiness. And any act that does not serve love and happiness is neither decent nor civilized. I have betrayed one of the best people I know. Today, I cannot in good conscience accept the appointment as head prefect."

Bubbling murmurs swept through the auditorium. On stage, teachers were leaning back and forth to speak with each other. Pilsich was red with fury.

Duncan looked straight down at Nevin and when the buzz had quieted, he said, "Nevin, I love you. I'm sorry for hurting you. I can only hope that you godless atheists believe in forgiveness too. Whatever happens, I wish you the best."

As Duncan took his seat, the audience seemed confused as to how they should react. Most whispered among themselves. Some clapped. Others were laughing.

Dalrymple strode to the podium and called for silence. He said, "Despite the 3; unprecedented actions of Mister O'Shea, I wish to assure you all that the new Prefect Body will be completely installed and empowered at the beginning of the new term. Further 3;"

As the headmaster continued, Duncan looked completely lost, staring at his shoes. He seemed to Nevin like a little boy in oversized clothes as he sat there. It was only when they sang the school song to end the assembly that Duncan seemed to come back to himself, putting real energy and belief into his voice.

It was Sunday morning. They were in the church tower, snow lying around the deserted grounds of Tudor like a lake of ice-cream. Most of the students had left for Christmas break the day before, including Duncan and Harrick. Simmons and Upton were gone, too.

"Well, look on the bright side," said Ashton. "If she doesn't show, you get to hang out with Uncle Robin for three weeks."

"Yeah." It was clear from Nevin's voice, however, that no matter how wonderful his Uncle Robin was, he would much rather be with his mother.

Below them, three cars were sitting in the driveway while parents and students lugged trunks and bags to the curb and loaded them in. Freddie was there, helping Zameer help the parents. As the last car departed, Freddie and the caretaker stood together, holding each other and waving its occupants goodbye.

"Really? I bet the two of them will be fucking each other's brains out the whole time we're gone."

Ashton asked, "Remember when I told you that I had some things I needed to settle inside me before I talked to you about them?"

"When I had the accident, the last thought to go through my mind was, I'm going to die. When I woke up later, it was as if I had died and this was all a new life. So, now, I feel like I've been through death already. And it was nothing terrifying. It was kind of peaceful, really. In fact, If I knew I was going to die right now, the only thing that would bother me is knowing that my life is over so quickly, before I've had a chance to do much with it."

"I felt that way when I first woke up, too," said Ashton. "For about half a minute. Then I realized that I hadn't come back to life as myself. I'd come back as some kind of mockery of who I used to be. I couldn't feed myself. I could barely talk. I was shitting in a bowl that someone had to put under me."

"Well, even after I was out of the hospital, whenever I would see my scars in the mirror or whenever I would realize that I couldn't do things I could have done before, like slide down the banister or even grip a cricket bat, I felt like this wasn't life I had come back to. This was Hell.

"And the worst part," Ashton continued, "was feeling like my body had betrayed me. Like it had turned itself into a prison. Turned me into a 3; cripple."

"Is that because you've gotten your old strength back and you're not a 'cripple' anymore? Because, I have to say, if it's as simple as that, then you're kind of shallow."

"It was a lot of things," said Ashton. "If I hadn't gotten better, it would have taken me a longer time to adjust, but I would still have made it, I think. A big part of it was having my parents there for me. They made me feel safe. Safe enough to come back to Tudor. That first night when you kissed me, that changed my outlook on things, too. I think Mark's been the biggest help, though."

"Mark engaged me – got my brain fighting again. Got me to look forward again. To feel love. I wouldn't care if I were a quadruple amputee, Nevin. Being in love makes me feel like Superman."

"That part of it is tough, I have to say, but what I'm talking about is independent of him. My feelings for Mark are like a team of horses pulling me along in a chariot. They put the wind in my hair."

"That's more your problem than mine, isn't it?" Ashton asked. "You talk to Duncan before he left?"

"That was a Hell of a thing he did turning down Head Prefect. He might not be the asshole he seems to be."

"But I'm with Jamie. And Jamie is good for me. And good to me. And he makes me feel good about myself."

"So what're you goin' to do about the two of them?" asked Ashton. "Who're you goin' to pick?"

"I read this article once," said Nevin, looking out over the grounds below the tower. "This gay activist. He was saying that fighting for legalizing gay marriage was the wrong thing for gays because that would just be aping heterosexuals and that we should try to 'chart a new paradigm' instead."

"I'm talking about a stable, supportive, partnership that's no different from a traditional two-person couple in what it acc 3;"

"You can't fool me," said Ashton. "I know you. I know the porno you like. You just want to have the two of 'em go at you from both ends at the same time."

Nevin sputtered, then stared at Ashton in disbelief. "Are you mad?" he finally asked. "That's so perverse. It's so twisted. It's so, so 3;"

"Arrgh!" Nevin raised his hand to hit Ashton playfully. Ashton was soon holding him in a death grip as they wrestled. A shadow fell over them. It was Mark, with a bag slung over his shoulder.

Ashton brushed himself off. "Hi Mark. Want to help me teach Nevin some respect for his betters?"

Nevin laughed. "You know, Mark, I like you more and more every day. 'Masterdebator' here needs someone to make him shut up every so often."

Nevin said, "I'm goin' to go finish getting Beyonce ready to travel, Ash." Then, he took the stairs down.

"I see you're taking Freddie home for Christmas," Mark said, nodding to the small, clear-plastic, box on the floor. It was what Mark had given Ashton for his birthday. Inside was a miniature gold statue of Freddie Mercury, fist raised, jacket flying – a replica of the life-sized memorial at Lake Geneva.

"Yeah," said Ashton. "I like to have him around. Sometimes I talk to him in my mind, asking him for advice, or just venting."

"They're not coming here," said Mark. "I'm going to meet them in London. I'm taking the train this afternoon."

"Ah," said Ashton. "Traveling on your own like a big boy, eh? Guess you're growing up."

"I just feel like 3;" But Mark stopped speaking, seeming to get lost as he gazed at Ashton's face.

"Hold it, hold it, hold it." Ashton pulled away, despite how good that momentary touch felt.

"Yes. In fact, I've been thinking about it a lot." Mark smiled. "Mostly about how good it felt."

"Well, that's the 'before'," said Ashton. "What about the 'after' when you start to feel all guilty?"

"That's just it. After the carnival, I kept expecting to feel some kind of regret, but when I think about us all I feel is happy. My whole life, I've always known when I've done wrong. When I lie, or cheat, I know right away that God is angry with me. It hurts in my stomach like something physical." Mark ran a finger down the side of Ashton's face. "But He isn't angry about us, Ash. What we did, I don't think it was wrong. I don't think God thinks it was wrong either."

There were dozens of replies chasing each other through Ashton's mind right then. 'What about what's written in the Bible?' for one. 'You're simply mistaking your innate sense of right and wrong for a religious mandate,' for another. But the sensible part of Ashton stomped his argumentative side into the mud and instead of rushing into a debate, Ashton smiled, leaned over to Mark and kissed him.

Next term, Ashton knew, the war of life would continue. Freddie would have his HIV test. Nevin would sort through his issues with Duncan and Jamie (though Ashton had a feeling he knew already how that would turn out), Upton and Simmons would continue to bicker and Pigstick would still be an asshole.

But, touch my tears with your lips,
Touch my world with your fingertips,
And we can have forever,
And we can love forever.

The End

Afterword

Phew! 46,000 words in total. I'm exhausted. Here are some brief notes on the story 3;

Do you enjoy having access to all the great fantasy material and also having a place to share your own stories without having to censer them for a general audience? Please donate to ASSTR to help support and maintain this free service. Go to http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html

Funtails

Debating Love

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

The End

Afterword