CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 25 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
"What's wrong with you?" West asked, glancing at Matt
who was grinning broadly and limping along behind him.
"Nothing," Matt replied, the strange grin still plastered
across his face. And West rolled his eyes shaking his head as they continued
through to his lockers.
It had been a rough morning for West. He hadn't slept much the
night before, sleep still stinging his eyes reminding him that he should be
in bed with the covers pulled up tightly, snoring blissfully. He just kept
running through his conversation with Tony and how upset he had been. West
shook his head to clear the guilt as he rifled through the locker, glancing
over at Matt who was leaning against the locker, the dreamy far-away grin
still plastered across his face.
"What?" West asked again a little irritably.
"Nothing," Matt repeated, letting out a long sigh
and staring up at the ceiling.
West stared at his friend and shook his head. "You're a
crack monkey," he commented, closing the locker and tucking his books
under his arm.
"Yep." Matt blew out another contented breath as he
struggled to push himself up from the bank of lockers.
"Did you finally score with Mel last night?" West
asked, the two of them heading towards Chemistry.
"Nope." Matt grinned again, a wave of euphoria that
made the normally excitable winger extraordinarily mellow. A tell-tale glow
on his face said he'd gotten laid for the first time. But if it wasn't Mel,
then who? West would know if there was someone else Matt was interested in.
"Ok, so are you going to tell me who painted that grin
on your face?" West asked, taking a moment to nod at a couple of his
teammates who were heading in the other direction. One of them nodded back,
the other plainly ignored him.
"It's a secret," Matt said again dreamily.
"Great," West muttered darkly, heading in to another
long Chemistry session with Mister Chiasson, resident taskmaster and demon
of the chemistry lab. It was a tough class. Chiasson didn't seem to care that
the year was nearly over, and seemed more than content to actually teach his
class something, unlike some of the other teachers who felt that their job
was done and they were really nothing more than babysitters.
West occasionally glanced over at Matt, who was abnormally distracted
throughout the period, quite to the point of drawing the attention of a couple
of other students who were looking at him expectantly for his usual witty
wisecrack, or clownish antics. Even Mister Chiasson, a half-hour into the
period, was eyeing Matt with a certain amount of suspicion anticipating what
Matt was hiding up his sleeve.
Mel leaned over and savagely nudged West in the ribs, causing
him to turn in surprise and rub his newly assaulted side as he looked at her.
She smiled at him, and threw him a questioning look nodding across to Matt.
West shook his head and shrugged; he was just as lost as she
was.
Chiasson stopped his writing on the blackboard, turning to survey
the room with his hard-eyed glance, mostly for show. Those that had bothered
to actually get to know the chemistry teacher, knew that he wasn't really
as mean as he liked to act in class, but that didn't stop him from instilling
terror in the hearts of freshmen everywhere.
"What's going on?" he demanded, his eyes going straight
to Matt who didn't seem to notice the entire class's attention was fixed upon
him. He was staring at the periodic table on the wall and humming lightly
to himself.
"Matthew!" Chiasson repeated. "Pay attention!"
Matt smiled pleasantly and bent back to his notebook, obediently
hurrying to catch up.
The look on Chiasson's face was priceless. He actually gaped.
There had been no witty comment back, no petulant faces, nothing but total
obedience. And from Matt that was far more effective at disrupting the class
than any wisecrack could ever be.
Chiasson's eyes narrowed, like a man expecting a trick. His
eyes flicked first to West, Matt's usual partner in crime, and then over to
Mel, who was happily chewing gum watching the show, one foot up on her desk
as she smirked.
The smirk was enough to push Chiasson over the edge. "All
right, that's enough!' he demanded. "Matt, go to the office."
"But sir!" Matt protested.
"Just go," Chiasson said, holding open the door and
gesturing outside.
Matt rose, collected his books and headed out, smiling the entire
time. He was still smiling when Chiasson closed the door and walked back to
his broad desk at the front of the classroom.
"What did he do?" West asked in confusion.
"Every so often," Chiasson said looking towards the
door, "it's a good idea to punish Matt for the stuff that he's done that
you don't know about and he thinks he got away with."
"But that's not fair," West insisted.
"Nope," Chiasson agreed. "But neither is finding
he's put super glue on my lab goggles again... Or hidden one of those dissection
frogs inside my briefcase.... Or a myriad of things I've had to put up with
over the last four years. Besides," Chiasson paused, "the last thing
we need to do is have young Matt learning the chemical components of gun powder,
which by the way is the subject of the day..."
* * *
Peter was, as usual, agitated. Blake was being odd, which wasn't
all that surprising, as Blake was typically an odd guy; but he just seemed
more so that day. Like he was hiding something, which bugged Peter because
he wanted to ask about it.
They were working in the computer lab, trying to get the computer
to print the word 'hello.' Typically, it was stubbornly refusing to co-operate
with Peter. No matter how much cajoling and begging he did with it, the computer
steadfastly ignored him.
"You're doing it wrong," Blake observed leaning down
to start typing, his arms around Peter as he rested his chin on his friend's
shoulder. "You're not formatting the commands correctly. Look, if you..."
Peter sighed and turned slightly to look at Blake, bright-eyed
and always happy and Peter envied him that. Blake had a way of encouraging
people around him, and Peter was finding that he liked just hanging out with
Blake. He was a best friend he could count on and who seemed so intent on
pulling Peter out of his shell.
Blake spared a glance at Peter and rolled his eyes, "Are
you paying attention?"
"Yes," Peter nodded.
Blake sighed and Peter felt the arms tighten around him as Blake
hugged him a moment, pressing his cheek against Peter's. "There,"
Blake said matter-of-factly. "You wanted one, you got one."
"We're in school!" Peter whispered, glancing around
the computer lab. No one was paying attention--too busy playing games, surfing
for porn behind the teacher's back, or doing their homework. No one was paying
any attention to the guys at the back.
"So?" Blake replied sitting back at his own computer.
"We're friends; girls hug all the time, why can't we?"
"'Cause it's...well...." Peter balked.
"Shock horror!" Blake grinned again. "You mean
it might make them think we're gay?" he laughed. "Well," his
voice dipped, "we are."
"Well, I kinda don't want it common knowledge," Peter
grumbled as he hit enter and started the next computer problem.
"You just don't want your boyfriend finding out,"
Blake smirked playfully as he started on his own problem.
"He's not my boyfriend," Peter hissed.
"You keep saying that." Blake turned, "Look,
I'm your friend, right? I tell you stuff..." Blake stopped and sighed,
"Right, I slept with Matt, West's best friend."
Peter gaped; he was having a hard enough time trying to juggle
coming to grips with his sexuality, and Blake, two years younger than he was,
was having sex with jocks.
"Wow," he murmured, the shock still settling.
"Yeah," Blake said with a grin. "He's..."
he glanced around as the teacher swept by on his usual patrol to make sure
the students were working, and after he passed Blake held up his hands a considerable
distance apart.
"Wow!" Peter said again, this time staring in disbelief
at the hands.
"And it was none of the usual, 'Oh I'm so drunk right now,
horny, and my girlfriend's not here...'," Blake grinned. "He..."
he blushed. "He was very..." Blake held up his hands again and pushed
them together and apart a few times rapidly.
Peter blinked, "Uh?"
Blake rolled his eyes, "You really are a virgin, aren't
you."
"So it was good?" Peter pressed.
"Very!" Blake grinned.
"Are you going to see him again?" Peter questioned.
Blake smiled. "I don't know," he sighed. "One
thing you gotta know about guys like that is they are only good until the
first skirt twitches their way; then that's it--you're out on the curb."
Peter frowned, "Really?"
"Well, not all of them," Blake shrugged. "Just,
I've been here before. Matt's not the only jock I've had..."
"You and West?" Peter asked, a slight hitch to his
voice, which caused Blake to grin as he picked up on the slight hint of jealousy.
"No..." Blake said slowly, "West's a boy scout.
No, someone else on the team."
Peter turned and stared thoughtfully at his screen, someone
else on the team. "Who?" he asked turning back, curiosity getting
the better of him.
"No one, a total closet case," Blake said, aware that
he'd probably said too much as it was and wanted to distance himself from
the whole conversation.
"I'm confused," Peter said, frowning.
"That's a given, you're still in the closet," Blake
quipped back.
"No," Peter grinned at the joke, "but I mean
'another' hockey player's gay?"
Blake sighed, "It happens more often than you think. Testosterone,
alcohol and expectations. Like some guys show even the faintest hint of homosexuality
as a kid and they are immediately enrolled in the first sports program to
become available, in the hopes that by doing something manly they will forget
all about playing with dolls. It's sad really, and hockey is the number one
guy's sport around here--you're not Canadian if you don't have a hockey stick
and two teeth missing."
Peter looked down a moment, "I never played, my brother
was the sports nut."
"Bobby?" Blake asked. "Yeah, for twins you two
don't act alike."
Peter grinned, "That's a good thing; I got the brains,
he got brawn."
"Hey, least you got the looks too." Blake nudged his
friend, "You know, you're pretty cool once you relax."
"Thanks," Peter smiled in return. "I just have
a hard time with people, that's all."
"People like West?" Blake asked. "Seriously,
have you ever thought about him when you," Blake made a gesture under
the table moving his fist up and down rapidly over his crotch.
Peter turned scarlet. Blake just grinned.
"I..." he stuttered.
Blake grinned, "Well I have, I mean he's cute in that hick-country-boy
kind of way. And now think of him once he's in uniform..."
"Uniform?" Peter's brow furrowed.
"Yeah, he's joining the Marines once school's done,"
Blake nodded.
"Marines...what, the US Marines?" Peter again stared
at his screen.
"What's wrong?" Blake asked, suddenly concerned, reaching
out to touch Peter's arm.
"N-nothing," Peter replied. "It's just, he's
out now, won't that be a problem for him? Don't they arrest gay guys and put
them in prison?"
Blake arched an eyebrow, "Don't ask don't tell." He
shrugged, "I think that's the policy."
"But what if they don't ask but find out anyway?"
Peter looked concerned. "Would they let him in?"
"I don't know," Blake replied. "I mean, it's
silly, what are they so afraid of--a couple of gay guys in a foxhole together
making out while the enemy advances? I mean, if they let women in why not
gay men? If anything I'd think they'd be less likely to make out with another
soldier than a girl would... isn't it like an ultimate guy fantasy--girls
with machine guns?"
"You're the comic book fan," Peter observed.
"Yeah, I tend to stay away from that kind of comic book,
I prefer Batman and stuff..."
"You just like the tights," Peter grinned.
"Well, George Clooney was hot in the Batman film,"
Blake shrugged. "And I mean, did you see the size of that codpiece?"
"I have to invite West over to Will's house on Friday,"
Peter blurted out suddenly.
Blake turned, "You have to ask West out?"
"No, not ask him out, Will wants me to invite him for the
family pasta night." Peter sighed, "He wants to meet West properly."
"Why, he know you like him or something?" Blake asked
curiously.
"No, we kissed..." Peter admitted.
"I knew it!" Blake stood up and pointed, "I was
right!"
The whole class turned and stared at the excited sixteen-year-old
who was very aware that they were in the middle of class.
"You knew what?" The computer studies teacher asked,
looking up from the bank of computers across from theirs.
"That..." Blake searched for an answer, "that
a program loop would make this computer program more efficient, sir."
The teacher gave Blake one of those 'I'm not buying it looks',
"Well perhaps you should finish the problem in question and avoid the
victory dance?"
"Sir," Blake nodded, sitting back down and grinning
over at Peter sheepishly. "Sorry," he whispered.
Peter blushed, "My fault, I should have told you yesterday."
"Does he kiss good?" Blake asked, hungry for details.
"I was too... shocked to pay attention, I..." he sighed,
"I kissed him back. And I told Will, now Will wants me to bring him over."
"Oh, a meet the parents," Blake nodded.
"Will's not my parent."
"No, but he's the closest thing to a dad you have,"
Blake shrugged. "In many ways that makes it harder for you to introduce
West to him. The pressure's on..."
"Well it wasn't until you pointed it out," Peter grimaced.
"Thanks."
"So, details..." Blake insisted.
"I didn't ask you for details about Matt," Peter pointed
out.
"Yeah, but that's 'cause you're too shy," Blake nodded.
"If you must know, we took turns--he did me, then I did him. He was a
bit of a wuss, though..."
"How come?" Peter asked curiously.
"Well, it hurts at first," Blake said. "Wow,
you need to hurry up and get West into bed and find this stuff out..."
"Shut up," Peter pushed Blake. "It's not like
that. We only kissed once, he's still an asshole."
"You mean you want his asshole..."
"Now you're an asshole," Peter glared.
Blake looked around the room, and reached across to cup Peter
through the front of his jeans, giving a light squeeze and feeling how firm
it was, "You're turned on."
"Stop!" Peter looked around the computer lab, turning
bright red again, his hand going to remove Blake's.
Blake looked up at Peter, fended off the hand, and continued
to rub through the jeans.
"Is everything all right, Peter?" the teacher asked
looking up from his desk.
Peter froze as he stared dumbstruck at the teacher, "I..err..."
Blake continued to massage him through his jeans.
"You're still stuck?" the teacher asked, as he walked
around to the front of the class and grabbed his blue marker. "Let me
show you again."
Peter was stuck; he swallowed, as he felt Blake's hand worm
its way up to unzip his trousers. He threw a glance at Blake who was grinning
evilly.
"I...errr..." he swallowed again, feeling Blake's
hand slip into his jeans.
"The answer's easy," the teacher said looking back
over his shoulder. "Copy this down."
Peter was trapped and he knew it. He let go of Blake's wrist
and picked up his pencil, nearly leaning out of his skin as Blake got his
hand up inside the plaid boxers Peter was wearing and touched him for the
first time.
The teacher looked at Peter expectantly. "So where would
you start?" he asked.
Peter tried to get away, slip the chair to one side, but the
desks were so narrow that he was stuck. And Blake now had a firm hold of him,
moving the hand up and down expertly.
"I'd...errr... start with...the...command?" Peter
said, beginning to sweat as he swallowed. Blake pulled back his foreskin and
flicked the head lightly with his slender fingers.
"Well," the teacher said, "it's a bit more complicated
that that; firstly we..." He continued to detail the problem on the board,
and Peter glanced at Blake pleadingly. Blake didn't stop, he simply picked
up speed.
"Now what?" the teacher asked.
"We...." Peter felt his hips begin to lift, and he
swallowed again, forcing himself to focus on the teacher, on the board, and
not on Blake's hand and what he was doing.
"You're not even trying," the teacher accused. "You
have to concentrate."
"I'm trying," Peter bit back.
The teacher nodded and turned back to his board. "This
is what comes next," he scribbled more notes as Peter felt the familiar
build-up beginning.
He fought valiantly to stop it, but Blake was watching him,
gauging the shallow breaths.
"So now what?" the teacher asked.
"We finish it ...off?" Peter asked.
"Exactly," the teacher said turning back, just as
Blake seized his moment and his hand tightened around Peter, as Peter gasped
and finally let it go, the pressure of Blake's hand sending him over the edge,
quivering as Blake pulled his hand back.
The teacher turned back, "And there we go, we're done."
"T-thanks...sir..." Peter gulped.
Blake came up, "Sorry I dropped my pen." He held it
up, smiled and went back to his own work.
The teacher nodded and walked back to his workstation. And Peter
adjusted himself and zipped himself up trying not to think about the mess
he was now left with, looking accusingly over at Blake, who was still smiling
despite his best efforts to hide it.
"I...that...but..." Peter murmured.
"Meh," Blake replied, "benefits of friendship."
He grinned, "And you seemed to enjoy it."
"I'm..." he dipped his voice. "We're in class!"
he hissed angrily.
"Yep," Blake nodded, "and it was fun, no one
saw."
"That's not the point," Peter complained, trying to
calm down from his embarrassment, and the rush of euphoria from his first
ever...
Blake smiled, "Admit it, it was fun."
Peter blushed again as he looked down, glancing about and he
let a small smile escape as he glanced at his friend. And Blake nodded in
satisfaction.
