Singer Without a Song
By Chris James
Chapter Twelve
New York City held the largest concentration of people in the United States and Alan sometimes wondered why anyone would want to live here. The smog and the smells weren't too bad this time of year but the streets were still clogged with the debris of winter.
The Trailways bus terminal was a mid-day madhouse when they arrived. John stared wide-eyed at the tall buildings as they took to the sidewalk in search of a cab. And they discovered that two boys with backpacks seemed to be an attraction.
"Excuse me boys, are you looking for a place to stay?" The man had just stepped out of the crowd. He was well dressed but Alan knew what was behind the question.
"No sir, we're just passing through," Alan replied. "Thought I'd visit my uncle while I was in town, can you tell me which way it is to the Mayor's office?"
The guy pointed vaguely in a direction uptown and then disappeared into the crowd. Two seconds later they were hit on again.
"Hey man, wanna buy some kick ass weed?" A young voice said in John's ear.
"Not really," He replied, turning to see who was doing the talking.
The voice was attached to a boy who looked like he had just stepped out of an acid trip or Alice in Wonderland. The huge Afro on his head crowned a fluorescent green and yellow shirt over bright red jeans. For a drug dealer this kid was entirely too noticeable, cops would be able to spot him about two blocks away.
"Wanna buzz, gents," He smiled.
Alan quickly told the guy to get lost. Fortunately a cab pulled up and discharged a passenger right in front of them so they caught a ride.
"The Evans House, Eighty-Fifth Street and Fifth Avenue," Alan told the driver. He nodded and they sped away, traveling almost a whole block before hitting a traffic jam. Alan watched as the Afro-haired freak show passed them by, sauntering down the sidewalk like he didn't have a care in the world.
"You boys know someone at the Evans House?" The driver asked.
"I know the doorman's brother," Alan replied.
"Pretty posh place," The driver offered but Alan didn't want to talk.
The ride took thirty-five minutes and cost a fortune. Alan hadn't spent any money on the whole trip except for bus fare, now he was almost glad to fork it over.
The Evans House was a twelve-story affair with rich brass appointments out front and carved lions on either side of the door. Snooty, Alan figured, but no one was standing out front to greet them.
They should have been a little better dressed for the neighborhood but this was the Big Apple, people walked around naked here and nobody seemed to notice anything wrong with that.
Alan caught a movement through the glass and the uniform approached the door, it was definitely Paul. He heard John gasp and could only agree; Josh and his brother looked that much alike.
"Yes," Paul said, "Can I help you boys?"
"Yes sir, you can," Alan said. "In fact we can help you too. I have a message from Joshua."
Alan thought the guy was gonna faint as Paul grabbed the stair railing and stared at him like he had just landed from Mars.
"Josh," Paul said, his voice trembling, "Where... how do you know him?"
"Look, we don't bite. We're just two school boys from Maryland. Can we come in and sit down, we need to talk," Alan said.
"Sure, it'll be ok, come in."
Paul led them inside to a fancy couch where they dropped the backpacks against the marble wall and took off their parkas.
"So where did you meet my brother?" Paul asked.
"He's at a Buddhist monastery upstate studying to become a monk," Alan said. Paul's eyes got huge, it did sound pretty incredible Alan had to admit.
"A monk, oh wow," Paul said.
Alan had to nail him hard right away. "Look, I know the whole sordid story, ok? I also know you're a pretty lonely guy right now and could use the love of a brother to get by. He told me to tell you he's not angry or mad at you any more, that part of his life is past. Here, it's all in this letter he wrote," Alan said, handing over the envelope.
"The monks saved his life and took him in so you can bet he's off the dope for good. I've become one of his friends and I'm suggesting that you guys have to get back together, you need each other."
"I don't know... " Paul stammered. He was staring at the envelope like it might bite him.
Alan smiled, his aura expanding to include Paul. "He loves you very much, Paul. It would be so easy just to write him back and tell him you're sorry for all the years and the heartache. Maybe you only have each other left in this world. It would be a shame to pass up the opportunity to love him again. He's a handsome boy of nineteen, not the little child you remember. He needs a big brother now more than ever."
Paul began to weep silently and Alan withdrew his mind from contact. It was done, the feelings had been broached. Now it was time to heal. He put a hand on Paul's shoulder. The man looked down at the envelope and sobbed when he saw his name penned by Josh.
"We'll go now," Alan said, "But you be sure and write him tonight. He's waiting out there for your words, Paul. Just a simple letter from you will make his life happy again... and probably yours as well."
John handed Alan his pack and they walked towards the door.
"Wait," Paul called, "Wait... please."
"Yes?" Alan asked.
"Our folks died when Josh was only seven," Paul began. "I raised him even though I was only three years older. We had an Aunt who let us sleep in her kitchen on the floor at night and she would feed us supper each day. But that was the only help we ever received from our relatives."
He wiped at the tears. "I haven't know what family means since our mother died. But you're right; I need Josh back in my life. Thank you for bringing me the message... I don't even know your names?"
"I'm Alan and this is John," Alan said. "Just be glad you have a brother, tell him you love him and Josh will fill your world in return. I hope we get to meet again, Paul. Have peace in your life."
"How did you do that so fast?" John asked him as they walked away from the Evans House.
"I touched his mind and gave him an image of Josh," Alan said.
"Yeah, that would have done it for me too, good thinking."
"I think so. We should use this gift to help more people like Josh who deserve a break."
"Alan, there is so much you can do, but we can't save the world, right? The anti-war protesting will take up a great deal of our time. This is all bigger than becoming social workers. You see that don't you?"
"I love it when you get forceful like that, kiss me," Alan said.
And John did, right there on the sidewalk in front of thousands of New Yorkers. No one even stopped to stare. Maybe there was something about this place Alan could learn to like after all.
It was almost seven o'clock Friday evening when John's father picked them up at the bus station in Silver Spring. They were tired and their stomachs empty so Mr. Bateman stopped off for hamburgers on the way home. Alan looked at the piece of chopped meat in his hands with disgust. The monks had a better idea, maybe he should become vegetarian.
The following morning Lyndon Banes Johnson, President of the United States, announced he would not seek another term in the White House. There was hope in his heart until Alan realized more civilians would die, more soldiers would be sent into the fray. Just because Johnson was leaving didn't mean that anyone in Washington was going to stop the bloodshed.
Coming forward as anti-war activists in a school where some of the kids had older brothers and sisters in Vietnam was a big risk. John expected shock and dismay to the peace article in the school paper to be followed by harassment, possibly even violence.
Mahatma Gandhi had preached about what it took to oppose violence, but Alan wasn't ready to get beaten up just to prove a point. He and John went to talk with the monks on the Potomac. They had three days to get ready. The article was due in the school paper on Tuesday morning.
At their approach to the temple it was obvious that someone in New York had been in contact with these guys. Their level of behavior was so different. They were greeted as brothers and served tea while listening to the request for guidance.
"The Buddha teaches strength without a need for violence," The eldest monk named Dulan told them. "But when violence cannot be avoided then we are taught that overwhelming force may be used in response. Monks in many lands have forsaken weapons and chosen to protect themselves with personal combat."
"I don't think combat is the answer," John said. "I'm more concerned about the reactions of a large group, how can we speak freely and have our voices heard if everyone is screaming at us?"
"The young master is wise to avoid confrontation when possible. There is security in numbers, maybe you should stay close to your friend for your wellbeing," Dulan suggested. He looked at Alan and it was obvious he was aware of the power that resided in the boy before him.
"I am sure John wouldn't need my help if he was attacked. My choice would be to open my mind to the need for a calm discussion." Alan had worded his statement carefully.
"Do you think that would be within the realm of possibility? There are bound to be dozens of kids upset with us," John said.
"I don't think numbers matter," Alan said. "We already know what is possible when I am one on one. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable with the idea, John. We're in this together and what I do depends on your support."
"Let us pray you have much success," Dulan said.
They spent several hours in discussion, focusing on the need to spread the message for peace. Alan felt much better when it was all over and hoped that John felt the same. He had grown accustomed to finding a sedate frame of mind in these temple surroundings. They left in the early afternoon and went to find Louie at the vet hospital.
He was in emergency surgery when they arrived, delivering puppies by C-section. They wandered around the kennels playing with all the animals until Louie was done, he seemed so happy at their return.
"Hey, there you are," Louie said, "How was the trip?"
"Cold and enlightening," John responded.
"Ditto on the cold part," Alan said.
"Well, glad you're back. I'm throwing a dinner party next weekend, are you available?" Louie asked.
"Sure," John said, "Do we bartend or do the dishes?"
Alan laughed. John was getting to know Louie real well, and thought every invitation had an angle as often it did.
"Very funny, I just want you to be there and look handsome," Louie said.
"I suppose it is my duty as the boyfriend," John said.
Louie's eyebrows went up and Alan nodded. "We have made the commitment."
Louie hugged them both and fished in his coat pocket. "Now we'll have something to celebrate. Here, John, take a key to the house, I had it made especially for you. Now that you guys have tied the knot I suppose it would be better to let you have the Blue Room full time whenever you need it."
"That's very generous of you, dear," Alan said.
"Oh what's a girl to do when there's young love in the air," Louie laughed. "Go on, I'm going be here a while. There's some cold salmon in the fridge in case you're hungry, but don't you drink all that imported beer. Imagine that, me buying beer. But my new boyfriend likes the stuff, his name's Brian by the way, just let the machine take all the calls."
After kisses all around, Louie went back to his puppies and John drove them to the house. A light snow was falling but none of it was sticking to the grass, it wasn't cold enough.
"Hey, it's Saturday night, what do you want to do?" Alan asked.
"I'm not up for anything too exciting. I need to relax and think about next week," John said.
"Just some television and a night of riotous sex?" Alan asked.
"Yeah, that works for me," John laughed.
They decided to forgo the salmon, much too rich after their healthy diet at the monastery, they settled for pizza instead. Two large vegetarian pizzas it was. The boxes were still hot when they pulled into Louie's driveway and John fitted their key in the door. Their key, it sounded so romantic.
John grabbed a couple of beers and they ate the pizzas sitting on the couch in front of television. There was a special on the making of a new television series named Star Trek by some guy named Roddenberry. It looked so cool Alan couldn't wait for it to hit the airwaves.
Pizza and beer left them cuddling and then kissing on the couch. Guessing they would be at it all night anyway John suggested they retire to the bedroom. It had been a while since their first night together in this room, just being here again felt special.
"I never realized it before but I like watching you undress," John said. "It's sexy."
"Sexy? My scrawny little body? Now you, you are the one with all the muscles and that is way sexy with me," Alan replied.
They crawled onto the bed and cuddled. "Mmm, this is much better when it's warm," John said. "I don't know how we managed up in the frozen north?"
"Just close your eyes and relax, I want to show you something," Alan said.
The aura began to cast around them and it became a slow dawn. The sun lifted its head like a huge fiery orb out of the darkness that clung to the sea. They were lying on a beach in the Caribbean and Alan knew John would catch the significance immediately so he spoke into the boy's mind.
"John, do you recognize this place?"
"Oh, my... it was my dream, you did that all along? How wonderful. Say, are we really talking?"
"No, this is all in your head... and of course mine."
"Awesome."
The sun became a solid source of heat and they could actually feel it begin to bake their skin. It was time to move on so Alan opened his eyes and saw John staring at him in amazement.
"Oh, Alan. The vision kept me warm on those cold nights. I should have known."
"I love you, John Bateman," Alan whispered and they kissed.
Louie got home and found them conked out on the bed. Alan raised his head when the man knocked softly on the door.
"Sorry to bother you," He said, "Is John asleep?"
"Out for the count," Alan replied.
"Good, can we talk?"
Alan threw on a bathrobe and followed Louie downstairs. Through the windows Alan could see the snow was picking up, they were in for the night. There were papers stacked in neat piles on the kitchen table, Louie had been reading John's manifesto.
"Oh good, have you started reading his article for the paper?" Alan asked.
"Are you guys really going have this published?" Louie asked.
"Yeah, I hope so. John says the editor of the school paper will do it."
"Are you two crazy? I mean, I love you both, but this is going cause some serious repercussions. Why are you doing this?" Louie asked.
"It's what we believe, Louie. War is wrong, LBJ and the country are wrong to be over there. I don't have to give you any Biblical reasons, killing is immoral."
"But the country supports the war, kiddo. I thought being homosexual was hard enough for you but now to add this on top of it? I don't want to see you kids getting hurt and I'm afraid someone is going to crack your head open for this stuff."
"No, it's a peaceful protest, all words and deeds meant to convince people that we need to stop destroying lives in our country and theirs," Alan said.
"Are you a Communist too?" Louie asked.
"No, what makes you say that? I'm becoming a Buddhist. "
"I had to ask because that's what you'll be labeled. Alan, this is serious business. Once the television news gets hold of this it's going be all over the place. I wouldn't be surprised if they kick you out of school."
"If they do that I'm going to sue their pants off, we still have a First Amendment right to free speech," Alan said.
"So these Buddhists put you up to this?" Louie asked.
"No, you have it all wrong. John and I just went up there to ask their help, it's our plan. We're going to throw a big demonstration in Washington this spring, show the nation that the war is immoral. Thousands of Buddhists will march. It has to affect people's thinking."
"Oh Lord, you really have made big plans haven't you? Do your parents know what you're planning?"
"Not yet," Alan said. "My folks will be easy, they'll think it's a passing phase and expect to wait it out. John is the one with a big problem."
"Oh yeah, Daddy is regular Army, I'd say he has an insurmountable problem. I don't think you boys have thought this through. John's father may have some problems with his Army friends. You might lose your boyfriend."
"We thought about that, we'll run away to Canada if anything happens," Alan said. "We know Buddhist monks living up there who will care for us, hide us out for a while."
"You can't run if you're in jail, kiddo. Look, I don't want to paint this only in the darkest details, but there are major problems ahead."
"I know. The Path to Enlightenment is not paved with smooth stones. I just need to know something, Louie. Will you still be there for us?"
Alan saw the hurt come into Louie's eyes and had to force himself not to look behind them and test his feelings.
"I love you, knucklehead... you and that sweet boyfriend of yours too. No matter what happens you'll always have my support, I hope you know that. It's going make my life crazy, you know, just don't get arrested... I haven't a thing to wear in court."
"I love you too, Louie. I promise not to make it too hard on you. It might get a little rough the next few weeks but I think we'll manage. By the way, can I use the copier over at the hospital tomorrow?" Alan asked.
Alan might be a novice of the Inner Eye of the Mind but soon discovered he was the master of understatement. Shit really hit the fan big time.
On the first day back in school from the winter break, John took his manifesto to the school paper and Alan took it to Mr. Rouse during his third period class break. The neatly typed document was eleven pages long, a monument to John's careful research and brevity in a tactful presentation. It was all in there, the hypocrisy of the government, the immorality of boys in uniform, the fat cats in the industrial complex that supported the war with their greed. Names, places and dates accompanied every statement of fact, a very through job.
Rouse sat in his creaky chair and thought to skim the first page but Alan could tell he got bogged down by the weight of all the facts being presented. For ten minutes Alan sat quietly as Rouse read every single word. Finally he slapped it down on his desk and put both his hands, palms down on either side of the document.
"This is total bullshit," He said. "You expect me to allow you to publish this garbage in the school paper? Well you can forget that mister."
"How can you say what happened at My Lai is BS? They shot unarmed civilians, women and children."
"It was an unfortunate accident," Rouse said.
"Then unfortunately we'll have to distribute the paper by hand," Alan replied.
"Look, Alan. I know this is a place where you learn, try out new ideas and find goals for your lives. Kids discover a lot of things during the educational process and not everything is pleasant or nice. The Vietnam conflict is a major event for this country and especially you students.
"But lots of boys and girls here have brothers and even sisters over there defending our country. This could incite a riot if I allowed it to be printed. The School Board would have my ass in a sling. We'd both get in more trouble than we've already seen around here. I just can't allow it, Alan. I can't even let you pass this around."
"How do you intend to stop the distribution?" Alan asked.
"If you're caught passing these out, I'll have to suspend you pending a hearing with the School Board. I know you're going throw all that First Amendment stuff at me but it won't work. These words are inflammatory and meant to cause trouble. It won't pass the legal test of free speech."
"No, you have the wrong amendment, Mr. Rouse, this is a religious tract published by the Buddhist temple. John and I are Buddhists. We're planning a big rally in Washington this spring. This is only documentation in support of that rally, are you planning to squash my religious freedoms too?"
"Oh you think you're so clever, don't you. Well I say no, you can't promote the rally here in school. Pass out any of this stuff and you'll be suspended. Do I make myself clear?" Rouse said.
"Then you better start the paperwork now, I have a hundred copies in my locker and they'll be all over school by fourth period. Thanks, Mr. Rouse. You have no idea how much great publicity this will bring to our cause. May the Buddha grant you a peaceful day."
Now the race was on, Alan had to get those copies out of his locker before Mr. Rouse could get the janitor, locate the locker number and confiscate everything. The hallways were awfully silent as he dialed the combination, hands trembling with the intensity of what they were about to do.
Snapping open the door, Alan pulled out his gym bag and felt the heft of paper inside. Closing the door quietly, he started to go down A Hall when he heard Rouse and the janitor coming. Switching course, he backtracked to B Hall, turning the corner just as Rouse came up the stairs and headed towards the locker.
Alan took the gym bag down B Hall and through the outside doors. Cutting around behind the auto shop, he began to run towards the rear of the gym and the only other place he could think of to hide these things.
"Hey, Mr. Davenport," Alan said. The retired coach was their locker room attendant and a real nice man too.
"Hello, Alan. Are you going out for football this spring?" He asked.
"Sure, but only if they let you coach," Alan said.
"Fat chance there buddy, what can I do for you?"
"Oh, I got my gym clothes out of the washer this morning but I forgot to bring my lock. Can I leave the bag with you until my class?"
"Sure, put it in the towel room, nobody will bother it there," He suggested.
"Thanks, Mr. Davenport, see you later."
He was two minutes late for history class but hadn't even settled in his chair when the public address system came on and Mrs. Lilly's voice requested that Alan Sommers please report to the office. Alan Sommers to the office...his heart sunk. The class laughed and kidded him as he packed up his books and headed out the door. Nice humor, their way of saying Thank God it's not me they want down there.
Rouse was standing inside the glass doors with the janitor.
"Alright, where are these documents you're supposed to have?" He asked.
"I put them in my locker this morning," Alan said, it wasn't a lie.
"Who else had the combination to your locker? Does your friend John know it?"
"Yes he does, and so do about four or five others," Alan said. "Come on, the combination is thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six, do you think I could keep that a secret?"
The janitor snickered and Rouse actually blushed in front of Mrs. Lilly.
"Well someone has removed them from the locker," Rouse said, "Go on in my office and wait for me."
Alan trudged slowly into the principal's office and plopped down on one of the hard wooden chairs kept to make students feel even more uncomfortable when being chewed out. The joke was really on Rouse, the School Board was so cheap his office furniture looked like it was left over from the Korean War, and it probably was. At least they had the best equipped science labs in the county, Alan had heard they were even going to get a computer next year.
Rouse was probably out after John, having failed to turn up the goods in Alan's locker. The plan was to have all three of them in the office with the door shut.
Alan had given a lot of thought to this pending moment of conflict. It would not do to merely bowl Rouse over with a vision of peaceful nirvana. He might think they'd slipped LSD in his coffee. No, it had to be forceful.
Alan would ask him to pray with them for guidance, allowing the revelation to come to Rouse from the heavens. Alan looked down at the phone on the desk, at the very least he might have to call nine-one-one if Rouse freaked.
The door opened and Rouse barged through followed by John, they smiled at each other and the game was on. John already had the really important document in his notebook, the one Alan had written yesterday afternoon on Louie's typewriter. It gave them permission to discuss the Buddhist philosophy on the war with their fifth period social studies class, Rouse was going sign it, he just didn't know that yet.
"Powerful thoughts may slip through the tiniest cracks in a wall of resistance," Namkhai had told them. They were about to prove that point with the subterfuge which had started with just a small lie.
The whole move to pass out the manifestos was nothing more than a sham. If they had been given permission to publish or pass them out, well that would have been a major victory. But winning small battles was an acceptable goal. The big stuff would come later.
"Alright gentlemen, let's get this whole thing out on the table. You have written something which doesn't belong on school property, where is it?"
"I see you have a copy there on your desk," John said.
"I'm talking about the other one hundred copies your friend there told me were in his locker, what did you do with them?" Rouse asked.
"Why nothing," John said, "I haven't seen them. Did you read the things we wrote?"
"Yes, I did," Rouse said. "I think you've twisted the truth a little bit, enough to cause a pretty severe reaction from your classmates if they were to read it. But that is not going to happen in my school. I won't allow it."
"What parts do you disagree with," John asked, "I can make some changes if the facts are inaccurate."
"I don't know all the facts. Maybe some of this stuff is true. Look, I have a son in uniform over there. He's a lieutenant in the Navy on the front lines at the Mekong Delta. It probably makes you think I'm biased but I don't want him to be there either, ok? But since Congress and the President have agreed to pursue this military engagement I feel we have to support it. I know you boys are frustrated by what you see as an immoral war but the country supports it and them's the facts."
"Were you in the military, Mr. Rouse?" Alan asked.
"I had a fortunate sense of timing in serving my country," He replied, "I turned eighteen two years before Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and started World War Two. I wanted to join the Army but my father talked me into joining the Navy. I studied communications and ended up at a weather station in New Hampshire for most of the war. But they finally shipped me out to the Pacific in time to get in the fight for the Philippines, six months later they dropped the atomic bomb. I just wish my son could have been so lucky."
Alan chose that moment to look into Rouse's mind. The principal didn't know it but he was going to join his son in Vietnam.
* * *
A Navy patrol boat was speeding along towards a cloud of smoke drifting downstream towards them. Maybe it was an ambush but they were ready for it. When they pierced the wall of blue-black smoke they came upon a scene of shear horror.
A small village sat beside the tiny tributary feeding the river, it was now in flames. Bodies lay sprawled along the riverbank, dozens of them, some in the black pajamas of the Vietcong, others in the Arvin uniform of South Vietnam. The flames and confusion from the burning buildings provided cover for a hidden sniper who began to shoot towards the boat.
Swiftly the lieutenant in charge ordered the boat to come about and return fire, the sounds of the thirty and fifty-caliber machine guns in their turrets was deafening. A movement could be seen along the riverbank, shapes moving behind the smoke. The guns tracked the movement and screams were heard as the bullets found their targets, tearing them to shreds. The smoke started to lift and the guns ceased their fire.
Scattered along the riverbank were a dozen more bodies, these of women and children, torn to pieces by the machine guns. The cries of the wounded could be plainly heard, but the sailors just stood and watched as their craft drifted downstream past the village. These people were nothing, every one of them a potential Vietcong sympathizer.
Laughter could be heard from the jungle around them as the smoke drifted across the boat, along with the smell of blood and burning flesh. The boat passed through the smoke and the vision turned in on itself, giving only one last glimpse of the lieutenant as he turned towards the watchers
* * *
"Jimmy?" They heard Rouse say, "Oh God no, it can't be."
John and Alan were sitting respectfully before the desk when Rouse snapped out of the vision. It had all taken about forty seconds to transpire. He looked pale and Alan was afraid he might have a weak heart or something but his mind said the man was fit.
"Oh God, did you see that?" Rouse asked.
"I'm sorry sir?" John said, "Did we see what?"
"I'm gonna be sick," Rouse said, and then he threw up in his trash can.
Alan went to fetch Mrs. Lilly who called the school nurse. Rouse was terribly shaken by what he had seen. His son had been responsible for slaughtering innocent women and children, while the enemy laughed about it from the tree line.
The nurse told him he was stressed out and that he should go home and lie down. Rouse thanked her kindly and then told the ladies to leave, John and Alan had sat quietly by through the whole episode.
The vision had been pure imagination of course; images stolen from newsreels and the clues Rouse had given himself. The image of his son was from the framed picture he kept in the left hand top drawer of his desk. The emotions generated were from his own fears of his son's involvement in the atrocities everyone was reading about.
Was it fair? In combat who says what's fair and what's not? Alan and John had debated this point for hours, finally deciding it was their best choice. Alan was not actually using his powers to overcome Rouse. The man was going to do it to himself.
"I'm sorry boys," Rouse finally said, "I don't know what just happened."
"I'm sorry too, sir," Alan said. "This anti-war business has caused you a lot of stress. I didn't know your son was over there, you must be mighty worried about him. I'll bring you the documents from my locker. Maybe you just picked the wrong door. We don't need to pass them out. The word will spread eventually anyway. You know that."
"That would be a very wise move on your part. I know you and John are serious about your feelings. None of us likes the idea of war. I appreciate your stand, I really do," Rouse said.
"Can I ask a favor then?" John said. "Will you let us talk about it in class? We cover the war in social studies at least twice a week. Can we at least present our feelings to our classmates in a proper forum?"
"Ok, I'll agree to that, but no passing out literature," Rouse said, "You have to bring me the documents you printed up."
"I'll go get them now," Alan said.
As he left the room, John pulled the permission slip out of his notebook for Rouse's signature. The plan had worked, but this had been only a simple situation to overcome. It was going to become harder, more complicated, with greater risk. Alan wasn't always going to be able to conjure up a vision and seduce a single obstacle into moving out of the way.
Mr. Davenport handed over the gym bag and Alan started off back towards the office. As he opened the door to the hallway beside the gym he ran right into Terry Brown.
"Hey, Terry," Alan said. He didn't want to get into it with Terry right now.
Terry just stared at him for a moment and then smiled. "Look, I know you're mad at me but can we get together sometime? I need to talk to you."
Well this was something new. "Sure, when?" Alan replied.
"How about after school," Terry suggested. "I'm not playing any games. Can you come over to my house, I gotta baby sit my little brother."
"Ok, I'll make the time," Alan said.
"Good, you won't be disappointed."
Terry smiled and then walked off to join his buddies waiting in the hall. Alan wondered what he wanted but was almost afraid not to go. Alan didn't fear him anymore; he didn't fear anyone now other than himself. His only concern was that John might not understand and that Terry would take it as a chance to try and start things up again.
They were missing lunch by now but Alan wasn't hungry. He walked back in the office with a smile. Rouse was pleased when he handed over the manifestos, they could always make more. John showed him the permission slip and they both knew this had been a small victory for the cause. It was time to move on to bigger things.
They hung out in the outer office until the fifth period bell rang and then went to see Mr. Bell, the social studies teacher. He wasn't going to be a problem. In fact, he welcomed dissent in his classroom.
"Hey there, Mr. Bell," Alan said. "Can we talk a moment before class?"
"Uh oh, what have you guys cooked up?" He knew them both pretty well by now so they told him. He looked at Rouse's signed note and shrugged.
"Looks like you guys are trying stir up some trouble, but that's alright with me. Just don't quote me but we need a little excitement around here. When do you want to make the presentation?"
"I was hoping we could do it Friday, that's when Dulan has time to be here," John said.
"And who is Dulan?" Bell asked.
"He's a Buddhist monk from Tibet, this is a kind of show and tell project," John suggested.
"Really? This sounds interesting. Maybe I should invite all my classes to see your guest?" Bell said.
"Oh, I don't know about that," John said, "Mr. Rouse might not like that."
"Hey, this is my class, I'll talk to him. How about we just do an assembly at sixth period? Just let me know when you're ready to make the presentation."
"Yes sir, we will," Alan said.
Five social studies classes meant one hundred and seventy-five students. That was twice as many students as they had hoped to reach with the manifesto. Poor Rouse, they'd pulled an end run around his edict banning the material. Alan hoped he wasn't going to be too pissed off when he realized what happened.
John couldn't stop grinning at him the whole period, which made it even more difficult for Alan to tell him where he wanted to go after school. John was still laughing during gym class at the end of the day when Alan finally had to say something.
"I have to go see Terry after school today," Alan explained.
John raised only one eyebrow. "I think the boy still has the hots for you" He said.
"Oh man, I hope not. I was hoping to be able to smooth out our bumpy relationship, you know I think the whole thing was really my fault, I started it."
"Well don't feel bad, you weren't aware of your abilities back then, besides, you're a sucker for a pretty face," John teased. "Just don't enjoy it too much if he goes for you again."
"Yeah right, that's what worries me, what if he does? I don't want it to seem like I'm putting him down," Alan said.
"Just remember he dumped you and I never will, ok?" John said.
Was there a little jealousy in the air? John drove Alan home and they stopped on the wooded lane to kiss before reaching the house.
"Call me later?" John asked.
"I'll tell you all about it, have no fear," Alan said. "Maybe he just wants some advice on how to keep a relationship going. After all I have that experience now."
"Right, Alan Sommers, relationship counselor. Maybe he just wants a good recipe for chicken soup ...good luck."
"See ya, babe," Alan said.
As he drove towards Terry's house Alan knew John was right, the guy would never be able to offer him anything like what he had right now. Terry lived in a small two story brick and aluminum siding affair, a modest home compared to Alan's neighborhood.
There were no other cars in the driveway so he pulled in and parked. Knocking on the kitchen door, he remembered the last time he had been here. It had been last summer, back when they were friends and a whole lot more. A boy answered the door, Terry's little brother Brad. The kid had grown up considerably since last summer. If anything he looked spectacular clad only in a pair of sweatpants. Oh shit.
"Hey, Alan...remember me?" Brad asked.
"Sure do, Brad, but you've gotten bigger," Alan said. "Where is Terry?"
"Mom took him to the plaza when he got home from school, can you wait until they get back?" Brad asked.
"Yeah, sure." They walked into the living room and stood facing each other. "So what have you been up to?" Alan asked.
"Seventh grade, man. It sucks."
"I remember that too, it's hard to be on the bottom with all those ninth graders picking on you," Alan said.
"Terry says you're queer, is that true?" Brad asked out of the blue.
"What... ?"
"He told me to watch out for you, but that was a long time ago, back when you guys stopped being friends," Brad said.
"What an asshole, maybe I just ought to go," Alan said.
"It's ok, I think it's cool," Brad said. "Terry won't tell me nothing about you. Did you guys, you know, did you do it?"
"Brad, your brother isn't gay. So why all the questions?" Alan asked.
"I dunno, I like to know stuff . What's it like, you know, getting fucked?"
"That's pretty personal, Brad. You'll get a girlfriend someday and find out all about it." What was with this kid?
"Yeah, I jerk off now," Brad said with a grin, "But I don't cum as much as Terry, he's got a really big dick."
"You and Terry... ? Alan asked. Oh shit.
"Sure, we've done it for years," Brad said. "But I won't let him fuck me."
Shit, the kid was telling him all kinds of stuff he really didn't want to know. "I think maybe we ought to change the subject," Alan suggested, "Terry might get upset if we talk about that kind of stuff."
"It's ok, we don't do it anymore," Brad said. "But if you want we could go back to my room... "
They both heard the kitchen door open and Brad turned to switch on the television. Shit, the kid was a mind blower.
"Hey, Alan, sorry you had to wait. What's going on?" Terry asked from the kitchen doorway.
"Brad has been telling me about school. Remember all the stuff we had to put up with in seventh grade?" Alan said.
"Oh, I hated that crap. New Math, what a crock of... "
"Terry dear, let's not use language like that around your brother," Mrs. Morton said standing in the doorway behind him. "Hello, Alan, how have you been?"
"Fine, Mrs. Morton, I had a great vacation," Alan replied.
"Terry told me you went to New York, did you enjoy the city?" she asked.
"Too many people, I was glad to come home."
So Terry had known he went to New York. This was the first notice Alan had that Terry was interested in what he was doing.
"Would you like to stay for dinner, Alan?" Mrs. Morton asked.
He looked at Terry who nodded imperceptibly and smiled.
"Yes, Ma'am," Alan said, "That would be nice, thank you."
"You better call your folks then," She said, retreating back into the kitchen.
Terry turned towards the basement door and Alan gave Brad a brief smile. The boy smiled back and then gave his crotch a squeeze before he went down the hall to his room.
Terry took Alan down to the basement recreation room to use the phone. Predictably the folks were pleased he was seeing Terry again, he knew they were beginning to wonder about his relationship with John. Alan finally put down the phone and Terry smiled at him.
"So what have you been up to?" Terry asked.
"Lot's of things, you want to hear about them all?" Alan asked, or maybe he just wanted to know about John.
"Where have you been hanging out?" He asked.
"Like you don't already know? I'm in a relationship, is that what you're really asking about?"
"Yeah, I guess," He said.
"You know John Bateman, the guy I'm with all the time. We sort of discovered each other. That's pretty much it. Except he's a Buddhist and I think I'm becoming one too."
"Yeah, I know John. He's the guy who totaled Larry Franks," Terry said.
"I saw you there," Alan said.
"Larry and I played around a little when we were in ninth grade. That was before he became a jock and a real asshole. But you don't know about those days. I just came to see if he would get his ass kicked. What John did was most enjoyable."
"I love him, Terry."
"Oh... I didn't know... "
"Look man, I know we've never really talked about this but you broke off the friendship with me, remember? It was hard for you to understand your feelings back then, you obviously still have issues with it. But I'd like to be your friend, Terry. I've always liked you a lot."
"Yeah, I like you too. I was just hoping... you know."
"I'll take that as a compliment. Have you decided what you want? Or is that still too personal?"
"Not yet, maybe... I don't know," Terry said. "I wish things were different for us."
That was quite an admission, maybe there was hope for this guy after all.
"I'm sorry, "Alan said. "I'm sure it would be easier for you since you know where my head is at, but there are others out there too."
"I don't know what I'm thinking anymore, the whole queer scene just gives me the creeps," Terry said. "You're right, you made it so easy. I just wish we could have that back again."
"There are other guys if that's what you want. Why don't you give it a rest for a while, just hang out with friends and see what happens? I'm here for you, Terry. Just being your friend again means a lot to me."
Terry blushed but a smile crept to his lips. "You've always been good to me, even when I was such a shit to you, I'm sorry."
"Don't be, it was as much my fault," Alan said.
"I smell dinner," Terry said, rising to his feet, "Let's go see."
Alan stood too but Terry hesitated, he wanted something more between them and Alan hugged him. Terry stood limply in his arms, there was no emotional stirring. One minute the boy was running hot and the next cold. Terry had some serious issues eating away at him.
Dinner was a strange affair, what with two boys looking at him the whole time. Alan didn't want to know what Terry was thinking and Brad? Brad was an open book at the moment. But he never even considered taking a peek at the pages in either mind. It might just drive him up the wall to know how much lust was coming his way across that table along with Mrs. Morton's meatloaf.
Terry he could understand. At the very least he was capable of being sexual on both sides of the fence. Girls had to find him attractive, he was a handsome boy. But after that event with the teacher at the private school, well he was sure Terry was still maintaining a low profile.
Brad on the other hand was running full open on testosterone. He couldn't possibly be gay, could he? That would be too much. Alan decided would have to keep an eye on the brat.
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