Westpoint Tales
by Kiwi
George and Jeremy's Tale - Pt 2
"Cool!" Jeremy stepped through the low hedge, (it was pretty thin in places), and dropped down on his knees next to George.
Why do you call your mother your Mam?"
"Dunno. I always have. Probably because she's Scottish. Mam is Scottish for Mum, I think."
Jeremy started weeding around the next bush. "So your Mum's scotch? You're not though are you? You don't talk like you are."
"No, I'm not, I was born in Christchurch, but Mam's from Scotland. Don't let her hear you calling her scotch that really upsets her. 'Scottish', is from Scotland, 'scotch' means mean and miserly."
"But they are aren't they? Scottish people are mean with their money, well known fact."
"Don't let her hear you saying that either. She hates that stereotype." He worked away quietly for a minute, then grinned. "It's true though - Mam can be pretty miserly as well."
"So she is scotch - scotch and Scottish."
"You've got it. Just don't say it to her face; she'll box your ears."
"She wouldn't be the first to do that."
They worked away quietly together, chattering like old friends and enjoying each other's company.
Jeremy and George, two lonely, outcast teens, each wanting a friend and more. Though that was one thing they didn't, (and couldn't), discuss. Jeremy was a local, born and bred in Westpoint. George was relatively new in town - they'd only there for a bit over a year. They knew each other from school of course, it was a small school, but they'd never really gotten to know each other before.
George and Jeremy, it was hardly love at first sight, maybe it wasn't love at all. But they both knew that they really liked the other, and they were both attracted to each other. Something had to happen, and it did.
They finished along the front hedge in no time at all and were working along the long hedge at the side, between George's home and the Peter's place next door. As they moved along, they stayed close together, kneeling side-by-side, their heads under the hedge and their bums poking up in the air.
Jeremy's naked forearm "accidentally" brushed against George's sleeve-clad arm. George didn't say anything, but he didn't move away, so he did it again. The contact lasted longer this time, but not a word was said. Neither of them could have spoken if they wanted to. Their hearts were in their mouths and each was as excited, and nervous, as the other.
After an eternity of about twenty seconds, Jeremy moved away again. George shuffled backwards and sat upright. Jeremy froze, fearful of what he was going to say, but he just rolled his sleeves up, then bent forward again. George was all red in the face now; he glanced at Jeremy and muttered, "It's getting really hot already."
"Yeah, it is," ('I'm not sitting upright or you'll see just how hot it's getting.')
Jeremy wanted to brush his arm against George's now bared forearm, but he was just too nervous. Then George's arm moved over and pressed against his. They glanced at each other, then quickly looked away, but their arms stayed pressed together until George finally withdrew.
The easy, friendly chatting had stopped now; they'd both been struck dumb. Then after a couple of quiet minutes weeding, Jeremy decided that this was getting ridiculous. This kid had to be feeling the same as he was, didn't he? So he summoned up all of his courage, cleared his throat, and said, "George. I.....umm...I'm going to make a suggestion."
George was quiet for a while, then he coughed, "What. What suggestion?"
But before he could answer, they were interrupted by George's mother calling out from the kitchen window behind them. "George! Your lunch is ready, come on in and get it."
They looked at each other, both thinking, 'Damn!', but then she continued, "You can bring your friend in too - there's plenty here if he's hungry."
George grinned, "Do you want some lunch, Friend?"
"Hell, yeah. Thanks, Friend."
They went inside, cleaning up in the washhouse on the way in. George just washed his hands, but Jeremy washed hands, arms, face and he even splashed water over his short hair.
George introduced Jeremy to his Mam, carefully not saying his second name, but she asked anyway. A quick frown crossed her face when she was told, "Carver, Jeremy Carver."
George was sure she'd have something to say about that later, but - whatever.
However, Jeremy was on his best behavior, courteous, charming and mannerly. By the time lunch was over, Mrs.Barnes was smiling widely and she was wondering what was wrong with Carvers anyway? She was just pleased that her boy seemed to have made a friend at last, and this kid seemed all right, despite his family name.
"So, what are your plans for this afternoon, Son?"
"I dunno, Mam. More gardening I suppose. There's not a lot else to do."
"Don't be silly, George. It's getting really hot out there." (She didn't notice, but both boys dropped their heads and bit their lips.) "Why don't you go for a swim? With Jeremy's help you've already done more than you would in a week normally."
"Well, I dunno." George looked anxiously across at Jeremy. They'd only just made some sort of connection there and he didn't want to lose his company already.
Jeremy smiled back at him. "Swimming sounds like a great idea, George. Let's go for a swim."
"Us? Together? Yeah, great! Good idea, Mam, we'll go swimming."
"Great," said Jeremy. "Not at the town baths though - I'm banned from there." Then he looked around at Mrs.Barnes and hastened to explain. "Well, I'm not banned actually, but my twin is, so I can't go there. People don't seem to be able to tell us apart."
"I don't see why," said George. "I don't have any trouble telling which one of you is which."
"Of course you don't, it's easy, Jakie's the ugly one," Jeremy grinned.
"No he's not. Jakie's not ugly."
"What? Are you saying I'm the ugly one?"
"No! Well, yes. You're really, really ugly, Jeremy Carver."
"Thank you very much!" Jeremy laughed. "Pot calling the kettle black isn't it? You great ugly brute yourself."
"Okay. Enough of that," George's Mam intervened. "I don't see any ugly people here. You're fine looking young men, both of you."
"Mam!" George protested. "Don't. You're getting embarrassing." (He was secretly pleased though, so was Jeremy.)
"Okay, so if you're not swimming in the town baths, where then? Please don't go near the river. Those two boys were drowned there last summer."
"Mam, the river was in flood at the time. They shouldn't have been in there."
"Nor should you George. Don't go swimming in the river."
"Mrs.Barnes," said Jeremy. "The river's quite safe when the conditions are right, but if you don't like it, we'll go somewhere else."
"Thank you, Jeremy. I appreciate that. Where will you go then?"
"Jakie and I always used to swim at South Beach; our farm was near the beach. But that's too far from here, so I guess it will have to be the North Beach. It's not as good and the water's always cold, but it'll do."
George said, "There's the Shingle Beach, inside the river mouth. But, no, that's sort of in the river I suppose. The North Beach it is then."
They helped clean up after lunch, then George went to his room to put his swimming togs on. He grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard and they headed out the door. Then he went back and got another towel when Jeremy said that he didn't want to go home first. He didn't wear togs - the Carver kids either swim naked or in their jeans. "That's probably why my brother was banned from the town baths."
(George thought, 'Jakie Carver swimming naked. Damn. I should go to the town baths more often.)
George put the rolled up towels on the carrier of his bike, Jeremy sat on them, and they pedaled off down the road to the North Beach.
Arriving there, they found a spot. There was no privacy to be had on the long open expanse of the beach, but there weren't many people around, so at least they could be alone.
Jeremy kicked his sandals off, hung his white T-shirt, like a flag, on the branch of an old washed-up tree trunk, and he was ready to go. ('Damn.')
Jeremy had a great body. Long, lean and lightly muscled. Dancing was great exercise. Although he was almost adult sized at 5' 10", it was still a boy's body - taut skin, smooth and hairless. George was a bit shy now, but, whatever.
He shucked off his clothes to reveal his own body. Clad now in just brief, too small, black swimming togs, he was shorter, heavier and a bit pudgy in places. George had hairy legs for a sixteen year old and he was secretly shaving fairly regularly.
Jeremy looked hi up and down and smiled. "You're going to be a hairy bugger, George Barnes. You're even getting hairs on your chest."
George looked down and grinned. "Yeah, A couple anyway. Come on, Carver. Let's do it."
They ran across the beach and splashed into the waves. It was freezing cold at first, making them both gasp at the shock, but they soon got used to it and it wasn't too bad. It was a great day and the sun was hot.
Afterwards, they lie side by side, face down, stretched out on their towels on the hot sand.
"Jeremy?"
"Yeah, what?"
"I didn't mean it, what I said. I was just joking. You're not ugly at all. I...umm...I think you're really good-looking actually."
Jeremy looked sideways into his eyes and grinned. "Yeah, so do I. I don't think you're ugly either, George. I like what I can see, so far."
George blushed and turned his head away. "Thanks," he mumbled. ('So far? Does he really? Great!') "What...Ah, what was the suggestion you were going to make before?"
"I...um...ah. Oh, it doesn't matter now."
"Oh. Okay then." Disappointed, George turned his head away again. He knew very well what Jeremy was going to suggest, or he thought he did. He hoped he did. It wasn't going to happen now. Dammit.
Jeremy lay looking at the brown curls on the back of the other's head. He liked this Kid, and he was pretty sure that George liked him too. Didn't he?
"George?"
George turned his face back to look at him. Was that hope in his eyes? "Yeah, what?"
"Do you want to come to the movies tonight? The new James Bond film's on at the St. Johns."
"The movies? That'd be great. Just us two?"
"Yeah. Of course just us two. Thanks."
"Thank you, Jeremy. I'll shout you – buy your ticket."
"You don't have to do that. I've got money."
"Well I've got money too. I've got a job and you've been helping me do it. I'll buy your ticket, pay you back."
"You don't have to pay me back. I enjoyed it, it was fun."
"Fun? Weeding? You must be mad!"
Jeremy rolled over onto his back and clapped a bent arm across his eyes. "Well, okay then. You can buy the tickets and I'll get us ice-cream and stuff. I like to pay my way, I'm not a girl you know."
"Okay, it's a deal. Thanks Jeremy. And I know you're not a girl, I can see that you're a boy."
Jeremy sat half upright, leaning back on his elbows and looking down at himself. "What do you mean you can see I'm a boy? How can you?"
"How can I tell?" George grinned. "You've got short hair for a start, and your boobs are far too small to be a girls'."
"Yeah. They are, aren't they? But you can change that, if you want to. There's drugs, hormones and stuff, that will make a boy's boobs grow bigger. I don't think I'd want big boobs, but I'm growing my hair. Long hair's "in" now."
"It might be 'in', but if it grows past your collar, you're 'out' at school. They get really upset about it."
"Who cares about school anyway? Do you know how to you make a hormone, George?"
"No, I don't. I wouldn't want to anyway."
"It's easy to make a hormone – you just don't pay her."
George was silent for a bit, thinking about that. Jeremy grinned at him, and said. "It's a joke, Dumb-bum."
"I knew that, Numbnuts. I was just trying to think of a snappy comeback."
"Numbnuts?"
"Dumb-bum?"
They lay in the sun, grinning at each other. Jeremy said, "Oh yes. I think we're going to get on very well together."
"I hope so, Jeremy. I really hope so."
"Yeah, me too, George."
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