A Better Place Page 3

I stole a few glances of Casper as I ate. Looking at him made me feel warm inside. There was something about his shyness that really attracted me. I was surrounded by jocks most of the time; loud, boisterous boys that thought they were God’s gift to women. Seeing a boy who was actually modest was a

  16 novelty. Casper could easily have been conceited as hell. He was beautiful, with light blond hair and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He was nearly too beautiful to be a boy.

  I flirted with the girls some, and kept stealing glances of Casper. He was so slim that it looked like the wind could blow him away. I found myself wanting to put my arms around him and hold him tight. I liked the way being near Casper made me feel. I’d never felt like that before. There were a lot of guys that turned me on, like just about all of my team-mates, but something stirred in my heart when I looked at Casper. He was a boy that I definitely intended to get to know better.

  I thought about Casper as I walked to PE. I wondered if maybe I’d better think twice about getting to know him better. He was a boy that I could really fall for. I’d done a really good job of keeping my sexual orientation a secret, but if I got involved with Casper, I might not be able to keep it up. What if I opened up to him and he told everyone? Or what if I forgot myself and did something to give myself away in front of others? I knew how everyone thought about homosexuals at my school, or at least I thought I knew. Being called a “fag” was about the worst put-down there was.

  I had a lot to lose. I was popular. I was Captain of the football team. I’d worked my ass off to become captain and I finally did it, even though I was just a junior. If people found out about me, they might take that away from me. Hell, my team-mates might not even want me on the team, period. I could just imagine what they’d think of showering with me if they found out.

  I wasn’t ashamed of being gay, not at all. I was proud of it. It was part of me. I knew the hicks in my little Kentucky town wouldn’t see it the same way at all. I also knew that I had enemies. I tried to be nice to everyone and treat them with respect, but I knew there were guys that didn’t like me, just because I was a success. I’d heard the grumbling when I’d been made captain. I saw the looks some guys gave me when the girls stared as I walked past. They were jealous. Jealousy could lead to some bad things. I wasn’t exactly perfect either. I was a pretty nice guy, but I could be a dick now and then. I was sure I’d made a few enemies.

  The more I thought about it, the less sure I was that I wanted to get to know Casper better. It might be wiser to keep my distance. If I allowed myself to get close, I probably would fall for him. If I did so, I was a goner.

  I changed into my PE uniform. A maroon shirt and gold shorts. It didn’t look as bad as it sounds. In fact, a lot of the boys in my class looked damned hot in that uniform. I stole a look at Derek Allen as he pulled his gold shorts up over his jock. He was fine. He was a little like Casper in a way, except taller and better built. He was blond though, and had blue eyes. That was a combination that always got to me.

  I wondered if Derek ever thought about what we’d done. Derek was the first guy I’d experimented with. Okay, he was the only guy. It was just two years before, but it felt like it was ancient history. It was during summer break. Derek and I were pretty tight back then and I had a crush on him. It was the first time I realized that I was gay. I’d had some minor crushes on guys before, and I’d been attracted to a lot of guys, but up until Derek, I’d just thought I was going through a phase. I’d heard that a lot of boys had homosexual urges when they were young. When Derek and I began to pal around I knew that what I wanted with him wasn’t just a phase. I knew I was gay.

  That realization never bothered me. It just seemed natural that I be gay, so I never thought about it all that much. What I did think about was Derek. We spent a ton of time together that summer, when we were both fifteen, and it drove me crazy. I was totally head over heels in love with that boy. Just being around him made me happy. I was always trying to do nice things for him and made any excuse I could to be near him.

  Derek seemed to really want to be around me too. I was already popular at school and had a reputation as a jock. A lot of guys wanted to be around me, but only because I was part of the “in” crowd. I felt like Derek wanted to spend time with me for other reasons. What I hoped was that he felt the same way about me as I did about him.

  It was with Derek that I learned how to steal glances of other boys when they weren’t looking. It was hot that summer and it seemed like neither of us ever wore a shirt. Derek had a slim, firm chest and was nicely muscled for a fifteen year old. Just looking at his bare chest was enough to get me breathing hard. A lot of nights he stayed over at my house and we thought nothing of sleeping together. Sometimes I’d lain there awake for hours as Derek slept beside me, both of us clad only in boxers. He was so beautiful he made my heart ache. A few times, I even worked up the courage to run my fingertips over his chest as he slept. Touching him like that made my cock strain against my boxers. I considered touching him elsewhere while he slept, but I never had the courage to do it.

  And then came the day. My parents were gone and Derek and I had been out swimming and sunning. We went to my room where it was a little cooler, and sat on the edge of the bed. We talked about something, I don’t remember what. All I could think about was Derek. I’d been hot for him for weeks and I was about to explode. The sight of him sitting there on my bed, wearing nothing with a bright blue swim-suit, was just more than I could take. I’d been stealing looks at his beautiful chest and cute little butt all day and my arousal was at a fever pitch. I couldn’t believe I had the balls to do it, but I put my hand on his leg as we talked and started moving it up and down, real slow.

  Derek didn’t think anything about it at first; at least he gave no indication that he did. That didn’t surprise me. We touched each other a lot. We were always wrestling around, punching each other, or even giving each other back rubs. All that made me hopeful that Derek wanted more.

  I ran my hand to Derek’s inner thigh. I was so nervous I was shaking. I’d never touched him so intimately before. Derek noticed what I was doing. I remember his voice faltered a little as I rubbed my hand back and forth across his inner thigh, coming ever so close to his swim-suit. Derek turned to me and our eyes locked. That’s when I did it. That’s when I touched him—there.

  Derek closed his eyes for a moment and lightly moaned. He opened his eyes again and stared into mine. We sat there looking at each other as I continued to grope him. Derek reached over and began feeling me up. I moaned then too.

  We both stood and pulled down our swim-suits. We grasped each other and stroked. It didn’t last long. It probably wasn’t more than two minutes before both of us lost control and made a sticky mess on the carpet. We pulled our swim-suits back up right after we were done. I remember that Derek looked kind of embarrassed, but I’d never been so happy in all my life.

  That happiness didn’t last long. I leaned over to kiss him, but he pushed me away.

  “That’s gay,” he said.

  I very nearly said “Yeah, so?”, but there was something in his eyes that warned me not to do it. The next day I put my hand on his leg again and looked at him. He pushed my hand away.

  “We can’t do that again,” he said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because it’s queer. We shouldn’t have even done it once.”

  “But it felt so good,” I said. There was a lot more that I wanted to say, but he had that look in his eyes again. He just stared at me suspiciously.

  “You’re not a fag, are you, Brendan?” he asked, looking more than a little disgusted at the very idea.

  My heart broke at that moment. I was in love with Derek, but it was quite clear that he didn’t feel the same way about me at all. What had happened between us was a one time thing for him. Something he felt guilty about. Something he wanted to forget. I thought it was the beginning of something wonderful. I thought that Derek would be my boyfriend, but ther
e he was, asking me if I was a fag. The very words he chose warned me of his opinion of gay boys.

  “No, of course not,” I lied. I should have told him the truth. I should’ve told him that I was gay and that if he didn’t want to do anything else with me that was fine, but I still wanted to be his friend. Instead, I lied and denied what I was. I felt like a traitor to myself. It was the beginning of more lies than I could even begin to count.

  Nothing else ever happened between us. I knew better than to even try. Things were never quite the same between us either. We still spent time together and were still friends, but it just wasn’t the same. When school started that fall we grew apart. We were still friendly, but no longer really friends. I wondered if Derek ever thought about that day when we touched each other. I know I did.

  My experience with Derek made me think seriously about Casper. I was afraid it would be the same situation all over again. Hell, maybe I was even so taken by Casper because he reminded me of Derek. Maybe I was trying to recapture what I’d lost. I didn’t know if I wanted to go through all that again. What happened with Derek had really hurt. I still hadn’t gotten over it completely. I still bore a secret hope that he’d come to me and tell me he’d been thinking about us. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, however.

  I closed my locker and headed for the gym. We were playing basketball that week. I was glad. I needed to lose myself in some physical activity. I was doing way too much thinking. Try as I might, however, I couldn’t quite get Casper out of my mind.

  Casper

  I walked home after school. There was no sign of the terrible trio, so I didn’t have to run for it the way I had the day before. I crossed the overgrown yard and walked into the house. I listened. Silence.

  I walked into my room. I’d barely passed through the doorway when Jason pounced on me. Before I knew what was happening, I was face down on the bed, my arm painfully twisted behind my back.

  “So are you going to do it again you little bitch?” asked Jason. “You going to EVER spit in my face again?” He twisted my arm harder and I cried out in pain.

  “No!” I screamed into the mattress. “Huh? Huh?” said Jason, twisting my arm harder still. It hurt so bad I was crying. I thought he was going to break it. I knew it was close to snapping.

  “No! No!” I screamed. “I’ll never do it again! Please, what do you want? Please stop!”

  “Please stop!” Jason mimicked me, but he let go of my arm.

  I crawled off the bed and stood, my arm felt pretty much useless right then. Jason closed on me. He grabbed me by the shirt and twisted it so hard it ripped.

  “Don’t fuck with me Casper. You fuck with me and I’ll fuck you up so bad you’ll wish you were dead.”

  I sometimes wondered if Jason knew another word besides “fuck.” I was too scared to think about it right then, however.

  “I’m not fucking with you, Jason,” I said, holding my hands out in front of me, trying to placate him. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  21 “Fucker,” he said with a snarl and slugged me in the face. I tasted blood. He shoved me back into the closet doors and I fell to the floor and groaned. I felt like I’d been kicked in the back and blood was trickling from my mouth.

  Jason left me laying there without another word. I didn’t dare move until he was gone. When I heard the front door close, I got up and went to the bathroom and cleaned up. I looked at my face in the mirror. I knew I’d probably have a bruise on my jaw the next day where he’d hit me.

  I tried to never cross my older brother. If I did, I paid dearly for it. I’d learned that lesson long ago. Whatever I did to him, he gave it back to me twice as bad. I didn’t dare try to stand up to him either. I’d done it once, after I’d complained to dad how Jason treated me and dad told me to stand up to him and not take any crap. My courage had earned me the worst beating I’d ever had. No, it was much better to crawl. It made me feel like shit, but it was a lot better than getting my ass kicked. If I said whatever it was that Jason wanted me to say, he usually went a lot easier on me.

  * * * “No I’m not,” I said.

  “Yes you are,” said Stacey.

  “No, I’m not!”

  “Yes you are!”

  It was just after school on Friday and Stacey and I were standing near the

  parking lot. She was trying to convince me, or rather make me, go to the dance that night with her. She was being extremely persistent and I was getting a little cross, although for reasons that had nothing to do with her demanding tone.

  “I don’t know how to dance,” I told her.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Okay, I don’t like to dance then.”

  “Come on, Casper, go with me. It’ll be fun.”

  “You can find someone else,” I said, in yet another attempt to get away. “I want to go with a friend, someone who won’t be pawing me all night.” “There are plenty of guys who have no interest in pawing you I’m sure.” “Oh thanks a lot, Casper.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “I want to go with you. We’re friends. It will be fun. Come on.” “No.”

  The truth was that I really would’ve liked to have gone to the dance. Even as

  I argued with Stacey, I was thinking about the music, and the food, and the dancing, and the food. It did sound like a lot of fun. There were reasons that I couldn’t go, however, and it made me sad, upset, and angry.

  “Please Casper.” “Just let me alone!” I practically screamed at her, and then turned away. My eyes filled with tears.

  I tried to hide that I was crying, but I knew she could hear me. I knew she could see my shoulders moving.

  “Casper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Stacey put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid sometimes.”

  I turned around and faced her. There was no use in facing away from her anyway. She knew I was crying.

  “You’re not stupid, Stacey, and it’s not your fault. It’s just…”

  “What is it, Casper? Does it have something to do with that bruise on your face?”

  It was the first time she’d mentioned my bruise, although I’d seen her looking at it. I’d hoped she wouldn’t ask.

  “It has nothing to do with my bruise.”

  “Then what is it, Casper?”

  I really didn’t want to tell her, and then again maybe I did.

  “Look at me,” I said.

  “You’re very cute,” she said. I smiled shyly and I’m sure I turned a little red.

  “Look at my clothes,” I said, and nearly started crying again. I was wearing the same old jeans and shoes I wore every day. I was wearing the same old shirt, too, except that now it had a tear in it, thanks to Jason. “Stacey, I don’t have any other clothes. I can’t wear this to a dance. Everybody dresses up for a dance. I’d look like a fool.”

  “You would not look like a fool.”

  “I’m still not going.”

  “But you want to…” she said, peering at me.

  I didn’t answer.

  “I could get you some of my brother’s clothes.”

  “I’m not a welfare case,” I said. “I’m not taking anything from you.”

  “You could borrow some then, just for tonight.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Come on, he’s off at college, and I’m sure there’s some of his old clothes that are about your size. He’s never thrown anything away. He’ll never know, and he wouldn’t care if he did. Please Casper, for me. I really want to go and I really want you to go with me.”

  Damn, she was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes of hers. I hated it when she did that. I felt like I owed her a lot too. Stacey was really nice to me when others weren’t. She was the one person who didn’t care if I was poor or not. She liked me, for me.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Let’s go!” She practically dragged me toward her house.

  A few minutes later, we were in he
r brother’s bedroom. Stacey was digging through his closet.

  “Here, try on these jeans.”

  I started to take off my pants, and then looked at her.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, don’t be so modest. I’ve seen my brother without pants lots of times.”

  I still felt a little self conscious as I slid my pants off. I quickly tried on the pair Stacey had tossed to me.

  “Yeah, those fit well. How about this shirt?” she said, holding a blue polo shirt up to me. “No, not quite right…here, this one.” She handed me a red plaid shirt—a really expensive looking one.

  I pulled off my shirt, feeling even more self conscious than I had before, even though Stacey was nice enough to look the other way. I slipped the shirt on.

  “Oh, you do look nice,” she said when she turned back around.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. I did look pretty good. I wondered what it must be like to have nice clothes like that.

  I changed back into my clothes as Stacey and I talked. She faced the other way while I was changing pants, but turned around just as I was taking off her brother’s shirt. She looked at my bare torso.

  “Casper, has someone been hurting you?” Her tone was serious.

  I had bruises on my chest and back where Jason had beat me. I hadn’t even thought about the bruises until Stacey was looking at them. Stacey walked over to me. She turned me around, examining my bruises. She also took my chin in her hand and turned my face to get a better look at the bruise on my cheek.

  “Has someone been hurting you?” she repeated.

  “No,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Casper, it’s me, Stacey, you can tell me. Does your dad hit you?” “No,” I said.

  “Well, somebody has hit you.”

  “Just drop it okay?”

  “No, I care about you, Casper. If your dad is hurting you, I want to know about it. You can get help if he’s hurting you.”

  “It’s not my dad okay?” I said, a little cross. “It was just some boys at school. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal if they’re leaving bruises like that. How long has this been going on Casper?”