Something Wicked This Way Comes Chapter 1 free porn video

Chapter 1 Ryan met Logan at the gate of the local skate park. The park had been the center of their universe since the end of elementary school. Now they were only a year away from high school. They sat on one of the concrete benches watching a group of first year middle schoolers trying and failing to do stunts. "What do you think it's like?" Ryan said to the air in front of him, not wanting to look directly at his friend. They'd both seen TeenNick and all those movies. They had heard about hazing, and the cliques. Jocks and nerds. Ryan was too into science fiction and fantasy to be sure he didn't count as a nerd. And Logan was the least cool black kid he knew. Logan shrugged and looked at the floor. "I dunno. I figure I'll have Michael there." Michael was Logan's older, and much admired, brother. "He said that he'll look after me," Logan's voice wavered. Michael was the source of most of the stories they'd heard about high school. "We'll still be friends, right?" Ryan kept staring straight ahead. "Yeah." And then a long pause. "Wanna go to Popovic's?" Glad of the distraction both boys got up. Popovic's was a deli that had been there forever. It was also known to the adults who had grown up in town as "the store" to distinguish it from A & B's, "the new store," A & B being only 15 years old. They walked into the store and Mrs. Popovic stared at them. No one knew how old she was, just that she was old. And miserable. She had one of those faces that Ryan's mom said that, "you grew into. Like an old tree that had been taking the full force of nature for years." The boys gravitated as if by magic towards the ice cream freezer. Being summer, Ryan liked to lean against it and let the cold seep through his clothes and into his body. Only Mrs. Popovic's ever watchful eye kept him from lingering. Logan murmured, "She always stares at you," grateful that, for once, he wasn't being watched. "I think she likes you," he grinned. Ryan hissed, "Let's just get slurpees and leave." He'd always thought it was his paranoia that she was staring. Her eyes were bad and she'd once called him a girl in front of his mother and little brother. Nothing had been said but his mother had taken him for a haircut the next week. They sat on the sidewalk, hand pressed against the ice cold plastic. Ryan watched as Logan lifted up the straw like it was some great prize, letting the melted contents drip onto his tongue. Before Ryan realized it, the lid on his slurpee had come loose. He watched as a small blob of iced liquid escaped, landing on his sneakers. His mom would be pissed. Stupid cheap cup. He was so busy with his slurpee that he didn't notice the shadow falling over him. "Hey, what are you doing?" Miley, a girl from their school. "What does it look like?" Logan tilted his head mockingly. "I'm not talking to you, Logan." She nodded towards Ryan. "Him." Back in elementary school, Miley had been bigger than all the other kids. That was before the boys all got their growth spurts. Even now, most of the kids in their class kept away from her. "We're just sitting," Ryan put a hand over his eyes shielding them. "I can see that. This is my cousin," she stepped to one side to reveal a tallish red haired girl, "she's from England." Her tone of voice suggested she wasn't happy about being stuck with her. The red haired girl gave a perfunctory wave, looking equally thrilled to be there. Miley shot her a look. "I was going to take her down to the pile." The pile being a giant pile of dirt on an abandoned plant nursery. The legend was the pile was toxic waste. "You wanna come?" Before Ryan could answer, Miley looked at Logan and sneered, "I suppose he can come too." Ryan looked at Logan, who looked pissed off. Then he looked at the red haired girl. She looked unsure of herself. Her legs were pale and thin, sticking out from her green shorts. She smiled, then looked ashamed of herself. "Er, yeah, hi. I'm Olivia." The pale skin of her cheeks turned red. She lifted her hand as if she was going to wave, then let it drop down. "What do you think?" Ryan turned to Logan. "Could be fun." Logan didn't look like he thought it would be. But peer pressure worked its magic. You got to the abandoned nursery by a hole in the fence, on the side away from Laurel Avenue. By next year, both boys and Miley would be too large to fit through. Miley ordered Olivia through first. The new girl just shrugged. She didn't seem to want to show nerves in front of them. But, she did glance up at him just before she knelt down. It was only a fleeting look, but she had looked at him, not anyone else. He watched her get on all knees and start crawling through. "Ow!" Ryan called out. Miley had just hit him. "Stop staring at her. Perv!" "God! Alright." Ryan got down to follow Olivia. "Are you on the rag or something?" He said the last part low enough so that she couldn't hear him. Olivia had walked on a few yards before he could stand up. She was staring up at one of the old abandoned buildings. "Why has no one taken them down?" She asked him earnestly. He walked over to her and looked up. "I dunno. They say it's like toxic here or something, so maybe it's not worth it." She didn't say anything, just stared at the building. "Well, are we going?" They both turned around to see Miley and Logan standing there. There was now grass sprouting up in the road and the asphalt had begun cracking, making the road hazardous enough to crack your ankle if you weren't paying attention. You could hear crickets in the heat. If you tried blocking out the noise of Route 78, you could be out in the country somewhere. They walked a long single file. Miley up front, no one dared challenge her right to lead, then Ryan, followed by Olivia and a moping Logan. He could hear her behind him. The softness of her breath that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. They found an old wheelbarrow half hidden in the tall grass. "It stinks!" Logan wrinkled his nose. "I bet hobos sleep here." Miley scoffed, "'Hobos'? hat are you? Sixty?" Ryan knew that Logan's dad was a professor in 20th century history with a specialty in the Great Migration and the Great Depression. "Fuck off!" As they argued, Ryan felt Olivia sidle up next to him. He could feel the softness of her skin near to his. Their hands brushed together. He wanted to take hers into his but was too frightened. She turned and looked at him. "Bashful?" "No!" he protested. She just smiled and looked away. They found sticks and spent the next half an hour poking around in the grass. In his head, Ryan told himself he was an explorer on a new planet. He wondered if any of the others were fantasising something similar, but was too frightened of ridicule to ask. It came to an end what Logan found a dead rat and used his stick to fling it at Miley. "That's it," Miley glared at them, "we're going." She grabbed Olivia by the hand and started dragging her away. Olivia looked less than happy but didn't fight her. As she passed him she turned to them. "Nice meeting you Ryan." A pause. "You too Logan." Then they were gone. He watched for a moment until her red hair disappeared behind the grass. He turned to Logan who was grinning. "Oh, nice to meet you Ryan!" he spoke in a comically high pitched voice, clasping his hands together and putting the emphasis on 'Ryan'. He laughed hysterically as Ryan chased him with the stick. --- The heat was starting to fade as he reached his porch. He could hear his little brother Jack before he saw him. He was making explosion noises and Ryan knew he'd find him playing with his Star Wars toys. He wasn't let down. The porch had been turned into some battle front in a galaxy far, far away. "Where's Billy, squirt?" Billy was Jack's best friend. They were inseparable for the most part. The couple of times they'd fallen out, Jack had been inconsolable. Although they always made up by the end of the day. "Mom sent him home. She was trying to call you. Said she couldn't get hold of you." He couldn't hide the note of glee in his voice. His older brother was in trouble. "Shit." Jack looked both shocked and happy. "I didn't say that. Don't tell her!" He knew that was a mistake to say that, but he had no choice. Jack got up. "Uncle Mark is going to be here soon. And Corey and Finn." Fuck. His uncle Mark was not his favorite relative. He owned a construction business in out by Morristown and seemed to think he was a genius. Not a man whose father had passed him a far more successful construction business ten years before. Corey and Finn were no fun either. Both were jocks and had no time for a skinny kid who liked reading science fiction. "Mom's going to be mad." Jack smiled evilly and went inside. "MOM! Ryan's home!" Little bastard. He could hear his mom in the kitchen and decided to take a detour into the living room. His father was sat in his favorite chair reading the Times. "Mom made you wear a shirt?" Ryan stood on the threshold, looking like he wanted to run. His dad looked up over his paper. "She did indeed. And on a Saturday." They exchanged conspiratorial glances. "There you are!" His mom marched into the room. Her face had beads of sweat on it, despite the a/c. "I was calling you." "Sorry mom, the battery went." He hoped she didn't demand to see. The nursery was out of bounds as well as out of signal range. "Well, whatever. Get in the shower. There are fresh clothes on the bed." She clearly didn't believe him, but didn't have the time to call him on it. "Now! Get moving!" He didn't need to be told twice. In the shower, he closed his eyes and thought of Olivia. Of her long neck. How he could see the outline of her bra through her top. The way her jean shorts hugged her thighs. "Ryan! What are you doing in there?!" his father shouted up. "Sorry!" His eyes shot wide open. He couldn't hide the guilt from his voice. "They're here, so come down!" He could hear the missing 'if I have to, you have to'. Ryan turned off the shower, sort of dried off and got dressed quickly. He came downstairs to find Uncle Mark bragging about Corey and Finn. "So, I was just telling your parents about how Corey was going to start at wide receiver this year." Corey was a year older than Ryan, and seven inches taller. Every time before his cousins came over, Ryan's mom alternated between telling him that he'd 'hit his growth spurt real soon' and how 'it doesn't matter.' He didn't honestly care, he wasn't that short and figured he'd grow, but she still said it. Every time. Ryan looked at Corey. "Cool. Congratulations." His apathy in saying it was met by Corey's apathy in accepting it. Corey gave a non- committal grunt of thanks. "And Finn's got a bunch of schools looking at him for soccer." Uncle Mark had told mom the names before and she told him. He had looked them up and most of them were small schools that sucked and took everyone. He knew he couldn't say anything though. His mom would call him jealous and his dad, who'd probably smile, would tell him to just let it go. Before he could pretend to congratulate Finn, his uncle looked at him and said, "So, eighth grade, Ryan. What are you going to go out for?" He knew the answer. He always knew the answer, which is why he looked at Ryan's dad when he asked the question. He wanted to call him a dick but that wouldn't work and he knew it. He knew that he wouldn't listen to the answer anyway. So, he answered, "Dunno. I'll see what clubs they have and stuff." He looked to his father, who said nothing. Not that he could. He knew he'd hear his parents fighting over this later. "No sports, huh?" Mark grinned. He always said that. "Knowing how to be on a team is important. All the most successful people were on teams. I played football. Back when they let you hit. But, more importantly, that's where I learned to be successful." That or when you were born. "If you weren't on a team, you won't be successful." "Uh huh," Ryan mumbled, cutting a piece of cheese off the block on the table. He must've cut it the wrong way because it skidded off the plate, to his cousins' amusement. He couldn't even go play video games with them because they would only want to play Madden or NBA. "Thanks for the advice, Uncle Mark." Fuck you, Uncle Mark. --- That night Ryan lay on the bed. It was too hot to be under the sheets. Olivia was all he could think of during dinner. Uncle Mark had twice called him a space cadet. His own dad had even sung a few lines of, "ground control to major Ryan." It was one of the few times he'd seen them laugh together. As he came, he felt all the energy and stress leaving his body. Years later, when he heard that the French for orgasm translates as 'the little death,' he'd think of that night. He could feel his eyelids getting heavier. Part of him wanted to fight it. To stay awake and think of her. But that passed quickly and he was soon asleep. --- He was standing in a forest. The air was full of mist and he could see his breath when he opened his mouth. Instinctively, he put his arms up, as if to protect himself. Something told him to move forward. What was he looking for, a way out? All he knew was how cold it was, and how dark. He kept walking, for how long he didn't know. Finally he saw something move. Whatever it was it was weaving in and out of the trees. Flickers of orange against the grey. As he got closer, he realized it was too small to be human. Whatever it was, its eyes reflected the light of the moon. It seemed to have seen him. He froze. It was coming towards him. Ryan held in his breath. The shape moved closer through the trees. When it emerged, he saw it was a fox. It came close to him, but didn't seem a threat. Ryan froze there, afraid that if he moved, he'd provoke it. Holding his breath, the only sound in the forest was the gentle creaking of the trees. Then, a sound. Coming from somewhere off to his right. He held his breath. The fox seemed to do the same. Another sound, this time louder. This seemed to spook the fox, who ran back into the fog. Looking in the direction of the noises, he heard voices. Maybe whoever it was could help. After a moment's thought, he figured he had no other option and walked forward. He crept through the forest, holding out his hands to steady himself against the uneven ground. He could see a fire and then some sort of camp site. The colors of the three tents, orange, green and blue, only visible where the light of the fire hit them. Besides that, they were covered in grey shadows. Three women sat around the fire. The first was young looking. She reminded him of the woman at that weird store in Montclair, the one that stank of incense. So much that it made him feel sleepy even thinking about it. The second was older, and rounder. She seemed to be laughing at something someone had said. He crept closer. The third was the oldest. At least, that's what he assumed. Her hair was so grey it looked white. At times he couldn't tell where it stopped and the smoke started. The beauty of her face wasn't completely hidden by the wrinkles. She shocked him by tuning and seeming to look him in the eye. But she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned back to her companions. They had begun to sing something. It sounded like one of those folk songs that they used to make them listen to in music class, although he couldn't recognize the language. Sounded kind of like Russian, like when Pavel's grandma yelled at him. Whatever language it was in, it was definitely old. He'd spent so long starting at the two that were singing that he'd missed that the eldest had gone. There was a snap of a twig behind him. He turned suddenly to see her there, grinning at him. Only when the pounding in his ears had gone down a little, did she speak, "Nature is red in tooth and claw." --- Ryan woke suddenly. His sheets were drenched in sweat. Sunlight was coming through the window and the a/c was droning in the background. He turned around his pillow to the side that wasn't damp from his sweating. Fuck, what a dream. He'd have to stop letting Logan persuading him to watch those old horror movies. He lay there for a while, slowly adjusting to reality. It was a Sunday. The summer. That meant no school. No responsibilities. After about ten minutes, he dragged himself off to the shower. Before he got in, he checked himself out in the mirror. His hair was plastered to his forehead, which was odd. He'd only been for a haircut the week before. Must be all the sun, he figured. It makes everything grow faster. He took a look at the rest of him. Still as skinny as ever, mostly. He prodded his chest. The fat around there seemed softer, even a little puffy. Could this be the start of the pecs he was after? Maybe his dad was right. He was due for a growth spurt. Coming downstairs, he saw Jack already playing with Billy in the living room. So long as they weren't bothering him, he didn't care. In the kitchen he pulled up a stool at the counter and helped himself to a bowl of Rice Krispies; he saw Jack's Fruity Pebbles. How can he eat that stuff, he wondered. Since he turned 12, he couldn't eat all that sugary stuff. His mother sat on the other side and looked up briefly from some agreement. If she wasn't reading an agreement, she was on her phone. She seemed to stare at his face for a moment. "What?" He nervously pushed a few free strands of hair behind his ear. "Nothing," she stroked his cheek, "I was just thinking that your acne has cleared up. In fact, you're glowing." "Mom!" He cast his eyes towards the living room, not sure if he was more embarrassed by the admission of acne or the open display of affection. His mother smiled. "So what are you up to today?" "Going over to Logan's." Why even ask? "You are not spending all day inside," she admonished him as she put her papers away in her briefcase. He put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth so he didn't have to answer. When he was sure she'd dropped that line of questioning, he looked at her bag. "Are you going to spend all day inside today? It's a Sunday, y'know." She looked at him and smirked. "Funny, wiseguy." Then, sadly, "Unfortunately, yes. We have the meeting on Johnson first thing tomorrow. Sorry." As she walked past, she ruffled his hair. "Jake! Billy! Come on we have to go." She was taking them to Liam's, another stupid friend of theirs', house. "OK." he got up. "And don't forget to rinse out your bowl!" She called from the living room. "I know," he groaned, turning quickly back to the kitchen. He went to the sink and looked up as he rinsed. For a split second, he'd thought he'd seen a fox watching him. He shook his head, that damn dream. --- "Why are you wearing that hat indoors?" His mother flicked the brim of his baseball cap, taking it off. He'd almost been out of the door. "I'm on my way out!" Even he could hear how sulky he sounded. "You always tell me not to get too much sun. This keeps the sun off." He felt himself slouching as he spoke. She handed it back to him. "Well, just remember we're taking Jake and Billy to Hurricane Harbor tomorrow. Don't go making plans." She was too busy with her tablet to look at him. "No! Wait! I don't have to go to that, do I?" He felt panic rising. "Since when don't you want to go? You always loved it." Still, she didn't look up. "Anyway it's a family tradition." "Not with Billy it isn't!" The anger came up, frightening and embarrassing him. This time she did look up. "I seem to remember us taking Logan a few times." She took a deep breath. "Why don't you ask him if he wants to come?" "He can't!" he blurted out. There was absolutely no way Logan could see him with his shirt off. It had only been a week since the changes started but he already lost what little body hair he had. Including down there. And there were now two mounds on his chest. He shuddered at the thought. He'd bought some cheap undershirts a size too small at the Rite Aid. They were itchy and hot but they did the job, so long as he wore a baggy t shirt over them. They would be no use to him at Hurricane Harbor. No he had his mother's full attention. "Why don't you want Logan to come? Did you two have a fight?" He decided the only way through was to tell just enough of the truth. "I just," instinctively he looked around to check Jack was out of earshot, "I don't feel comfortable. People seeing my chest and arms." He gave her his best hang dog expression. "I get it." She reached up and touched his hair. "I remember how it felt," she paused seeming to be thinking of something in particular. "Other kids can be cruel. You can wear your t-shirt. And we don't have to bring Logan this time. But you are going." The t-shirt was enough of a concession to make him drop it. If he stayed away from the water, perhaps he could get through it. He could fake a stomach ache or diarrhea or something. "I'm going to have to get your hair cut again," she said, touching his head. "It must be puberty," she mumbled to herself. When she left, he headed for the door. He was determined to find Olivia. Maybe, she knew what was happening. --- Miley's house was closer to Millburn, in the better part of town. The trees overhung the road and all the lawns looked fresh and green, even in the heat. He remembered the house from a birthday party back in elementary school. The whole class had been invited. More, he'd suspected, for her parents' social comfort than out of Miley's generosity. He and Logan had spent most of the party playing on his DS, hidden away from the others. Dumping his bike on the driveway, he approached the front door. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell. He could see the shadow of someone approaching through the frosted glass. "Can I help you?" All he knew about Miley's dad was that he worked somewhere in the city. He had that added layer of hardness you got when you spent most of your time commuting. "Er... Miley and," he took a deep breath, "Olivia." What a time for his voice to start breaking. Her dad looked at him like he was an idiot. "Sorry sir. Are Miley and Olivia free? I wondered if they wanted to hang?" The man looked at him for a few moments. Ryan felt a strong desire to run. Then he turned into the house. "Miley! One of your little friends is here." Bastard. Ryan heard the thunder of feet at the top of the stairs. "Ryan?" Miley bent down just enough that he could see her. It looked like he'd caught her genuinely by surprise. "Dad, can he come up?" "Sure." Then as Ryan passed him, "Just remember to leave your bedroom door open honey." Ryan looked around to see him smirking, and then around again to see Miley scowling. Miley's room was more girly than he expected. There was a giant poster of that boy off of YouTube all the girls had been going on about in the spring. On the dresser was a framed picture of a horse. Little heart stickers stuck around it. Miley caught him looking, "What do you want?!" "Er, I just thought we could.. er... hang." The trouble was he hadn't thought this far. He'd been so sure Olivia would be here... "Hang with 'Hermione' you mean." Miley glared at him. Before he could think of anything to say she called out, "Hermione, get in here!" "No. Wait..." Olivia came to the door. "What now, Homer Simpson?" Her arms were crossed in anger. Then she saw him. "Oh, Ryan. I..." "Hey." He gave a little wave and immediately felt stupid. What did he think he was going to say to her? Hi Olivia, I met you once, jacked off to you, now I'm growing breasts? Miley smirked. "I'll leave you two alone," she said drawing out the 'o' as she headed out the room. At the door the two girls exchanged glances. Olivia looked almost apologetic. She closed the door most of the way shut, then they sat down next to each other on the bed. "Hey," she said, pushing the loose hair behind her ear. "Hey," he said glumly, staring at his feet. He should have worn his new Jordans, the ones he got for school. "Thanks for saving me from Donald Trump." She motioned towards the door. Despite himself, he smiled. "Donald Trump, good one." There was a long pause. "So, uh, how do you, uh, find, uh, America?" Real, uh, great, shithead. "Left at Iceland." He looked at her dumbly and she sighed. "It's alright, I suppose. Uncle Phil is nice." Her voice went quiet and she leaned in slightly, "Miley is a total bitch though. And all everyone seems to do is go to the Mall." He assumed she meant Short Hills. No one went to Livingston, not from here anyway. At least I had fun that day... with you." She blushed and he felt a little better. "Yeah, I liked that too." She was wearing shorts. Her pale legs visible. Her skin next to his. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure." She smiled. "Do they have, like witches and wizards where you are from?" She hit the bed with her bunched up fists, taking him by surprise. "Why is everything about Harry Potter with you people!" "No, no, I didn't mean it like that." He gulped. It was now or never. He hated now but he hated never worse. "I mean, it's more like...this is going to sound weird...something...after the last time we met." She looked at him like he was crazy. Which he probably was. "What happened, Ryan?" She sounded concerned but she touched his leg. She. Touched. His. Leg. "Um, I liked you. I mean, I like you. A lot." She was smiling. Beaming even. "But," and he choked on the words, "I had this dream. And you were in it. This...weird..dream." He waited for a slap or a scream or something, like when Aiden Rosato said something to Keisha. Instead, she laughed and touched his hand. "Really? You mean you had a wet dream." She seemed amused. He wanted to climb into a deep hole. "It's OK. Don't they teach you about that in sex ed here?" He could feel his face getting hotter and hotter. She moved her hand to his chest, like she was trying to calm him down. Then, she looked at him quizzically. "Ryan...um...." He whispered, "That's just it. I didn't have these...not until the dream... and that's why I asked..." He felt the air around him change and turned to see Miley, holding her phone. "Why you asked what?" Olivia and Ryan pulled back from each other, repelled like magnets. "Nothing. Why I asked nothing." Miley grinned wolfishly. "Daaad...." Olivia glared at her. "Stop it Miley." She kept grinning. "Then tell me what he asked." Just then, her father yelled, "What?" Miley looked at the two of them, silently giving them the choice, such as it was. Or wasn't. Ryan looked at Olivia, not wanting to get her in trouble. "Fine, I'll tell you." "Nothing," Miley called downstairs sweetly. "I was going to ask if we could walk to town?" "Sure," her father shouted up. "Let me know if you need money." Miley looked at the two of them. "So what did Cryin' Ryan ask?" This was a nickname Hunter Schwartz had given him in the second grade when a toy dinosaur claw he bought at the Museum of Natural History on a field trip broke. No one had called him it in years. Fuck you, Ryan thought. He'd rather her father chase him from the house with a baseball bat than this. But, he looked at Olivia, her green eyes pleading, then at her legs and then quickly back to her eyes. So, he didn't seem like a pervert, because everyone knew that would get you kicked in the nuts. So, he looked at Miley and said, "I asked her if there were wizards and witches in England." Miley laughed loudly. "You are geeky AF, Ryan. You seriously asked her that?" Then, she turned to Olivia and said, "And you didn't kick him out? Seriously? Wow, you two are total losers, you belong together." And she left again, laughing. "I know I'm not supposed to close the door but you two losers wouldn't do anything. Wizards? God, you're stupid." After Miley was out of earshot, Olivia smiled wickedly. "She believed that? And WE'RE stupid? Aunt Lainie always tells mum how good the schools are here...wow..." Ryan exhaled, feeling like it did when he took the underwater swimming test at camp. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Olivia smiled. "You're welcome. You're welcome. You're welcome." And then she leaned in to kiss him. Just then, he heard a clicking sound. He turned to see Miley smiling and holding her phone. "Give me that," Olivia snarled. It was useless. Miley was at least four inches taller and 30 pounds heavier. She held the phone in the air, taunting her cousin. Ryan got off the bed. "Come on Miley, give it. Or at least delete it." She kept grinning. "No. Why should I?" "Because," he said. He had no because. Because it would be embarrassing. Like that would work. Because you don't want us to get in trouble? That would work even better. "Fine, what do you want from me?" She towered over him. He prayed that his growth spurt would kick in now. "I don't want anything. I just want the two losers to be happy. And everyone should know how happy you are." He went to grab her phone and she put her hand on his chest, grabbing his shirt. She got a strange look on her face. "Are you wearing an undershirt?" he mumbled incomprehensibly. "Omigod, you are, you loser. What kind of loser wears an undershirt? Especially when it's like 90 degrees out?" She looked at Olivia, who stood mute. So he did the only thing he could do. He ran, knocking her phone out of her hand on his way out. She let out a scream, and he hurtled down the stairs, glimpsing the bemused look on Miley's dad's face as he did. There was a moment of terror when he thought he wasn't going to be able to open the lock on the front door. He got three blocks before he had to stop. Coughing and spluttering, he came off his bike, leaving it in the middle of the road. Leaning on one of the trees he started to throw up. That night Miley's dad called his dad. He took Ryan upstairs and sat him down. He looked stern until Ryan confessed that he'd kissed Olivia, and that Miley had tried to film them on her camera. Not a complete lie. Just not the complete truth. After that, his dad smiled and his mood softened. "Um, look, you can't go knocking a girl's phone out of her hand. No matter what the reason." He seemed almost proud at what had happened. He hung his head in shame, and fear. "I know. I know. It's just I didn't want her to film us." And then, "And she was being mean to Olivia." His dad smiled and put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. He wanted more than anything for him to tell him it was all going to be alright. --- The next morning, Ryan was stuck in the middle row. His brother and Billy played on their DSes, every now and then kicking Ryan's seat. His parents were up front, arguing over how they could have beaten the traffic on the Turnpike. He felt weird in his bathing suit. Just that morning, he had spent forever trying to measure what he had down there. A task not helped by the lack of data collected beforehand. The fact he wasn't sure didn't bode well. He'd chosen a black t-shirt as he felt it hid his undershirt best. It was already itching, even with the car's a/c. "How much longer?" He could hear the whine in his voice. His father sighed. "At least an hour. It would've been less if your mother had let me get off the Turnpike." His mother scoffed. "Ah yes, getting off the Turnpike. Creates the illusion of movement." Ryan just put his head back and moaned. At first, when they spotted the signs for Hurricane Harbor, Jack and Billy bounced around excitedly. That excitement quickly turned to horror - and whining - as they realized the traffic was only getting denser. And two miles away meant nothing when the car was at best crawling along. The skin on Ryan's bare legs rubbed uncomfortably against the leather seats.. The park wasn't much of a relief when they arrived. It was already packed and they had to park far away from the entrance. Ryan overheard his dad saying it was an overflow lot they only opened during the summer. Whatever. What it meant was hiking across miles of parking lot in this heat, even before they had to wait at the gate. His undershirt was not only itching but drenched in sweat. A big pool of which was causing it and his t-shirt to stick to his back. When they finally got into the park, it was worse. Hunched over and mostly staring at the floor, there were several points where Ryan nearly lost his family. They went on the log flume first, Ryan staring at the sign saying, "Your wait from this point - 1 hour." They played a never ending video of the rest of the park; he guessed it was so you wouldn't leave. Jake found himself leaning against the barrier, head against its cool metallic surface. Around him Jack and Billy played. A couple of times they bumped into him. "Hey watch it squirt." Ryan's heart wasn't in it. One time Jack caught him unexpectedly, causing him to topple backwards. He would have fallen on his ass if it wasn't for an older boy behind him. The boy lifted him up slowly. "Er, sorry," Ryan muttered. "No worries." The boy, probably a high schooler winked. Then he turned to Jack. "Hey, be more careful of your sister, OK?" A shit eating grin spread across Jack's face, but Ryan grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him towards their parents. "Thanks again," he said, trying hard to disguise his embarrassment. The ride gave some relief. For a moment the cold water revived him, but when he came out he was completely drenched. He caught sight of himself in the glass of the ticket booth. The outline of his undershirt was visible, which was bad. But so were his nipples. Fuck. He quickly pulled his arms around himself. His mother gave him a look but otherwise didn't bother him. The day seemed to drag painfully. The lines got progressively worse, the crowds progressively bigger. Everyone seemed so much bigger and louder. Occasionally his dad would try and engage him. "Isn't this better than school," or, "How are you and Logan getting along..." He could only manage the odd grunt or mumbled reply in return. Even he knew he was being crap, he was just powerless to do anything else. Eventually, they gave up on the rides and headed to the wave pool. It was crowded, but at least you could find your own small space without having to line up. "You're not going in?" his mother asked. "Really?" He could tell from her voice she was worried he'd burn up and he hated himself for it. But what could he do? "No," he shrugged, "it's all full of kid pee." His mother looked at him for a few moments, making his cheeks heat up. "Well, OK," she said, the doubt in her voice. "You can keep me company. You want your book?" "Uh huh." For the first time that day he sounded a tiny bit enthusiastic. He could escape reality, if only for a short time. His mother laid out on a beach chair while he spread out one of the beach towels. He sat with his knees under his chin, holding out his book in front of him. Twenty minutes passed and he was starting to relax. No one was bothering him. An hour or so of this and his dad would want to leave before the rush. He was vaguely aware of his brother running up, wanting to 'get something,' he told their mother. Then he was behind him. The water was cold. "You little shit!" he was on his feet. His book soaking wet. And with it his hope of getting through the next hour or so without being hassled dampened. He grabbed for Jack, but the little bastard swerved him easily. He was laughing hysterically. "I'll fucking kill you!" "Ryan!" He turned to see his mother angry face. He knew he was being stupid, that he should calm down. He couldn't. "That little fuck..." "Ryan, are you wearing an undershirt?" It took him completely by surprise. Anger had, temporarily, driven any thoughts about his condition out of his mind. "Er, no... yes." "Ryan, this is ridiculous. I get that you are self-conscious about how skinny you are, but seriously... You must be boiling." "I, I." Speech was beyond him. He was acutely aware that people were turning and looking. That his brother, and probably Billy and his dad were looking as well. "Come on, enough of this. The t-shirt is fine but take off your undershirt." He knew that look. His mother was a trained lawyer and used to arguing. When she got like this, there was no budging her. Only he had to do something because, because he just had to... "Son, come on. You mom is being more than reasonable." He turned quickly to see his dad standing there. This was getting worse and worse. He caught a glimpse of his brother smirking away. He wanted to punch him so badly it hurt. He had no choice. Better to do it quickly. Maybe there was some way, some angle. Maybe he'd been exaggerating them in his head. But he knew he hadn't been. Turning around he pulled off his t-shirt. Putting it between his legs. He tried hunching over as he pulled off his undershirt, but it was no use. Once it was off, as quickly as he could he pulled on his t-shirt. Looking up, he hoped he had got away with it. His mother and father were looking at him dumbfounded. It seemed like the whole park had gone quiet. He saw a gaping mouthed teenager hold up his phone. Then suddenly sound came back. His dad turned to his brother. "Get Billy. Quickly." His mother's arms were around him, then the towel around his shoulder. He was crying. He hadn't realized he was crying. The next half hour passed in a daze. He remembered his parents leading them out. His mom's arms always around him. There was a crowd. At some point one of the park officials came up. "My son isn't feeling very well," his mom said. The official looked overwhelmed. "It's heat stroke. I need to get him to the car." The official, probably just relieved he hadn't been injured by something to do with the park snapped out of it. "Of course, ma'am. This way." He lead them through a little office and through a staff door. "Which lot?" Ryan remembered being put onto a golf cart. If he wasn't so embarrassed, he would have realized that it was just him and his mom. That Jack had to walk across the lot in the heat. The official left Ryan and his mother by the car. She opened the front passenger seat and sat him down, kneeling so they were at about the same height. It made him feel young and stupid, but also a little comforted. "What, when?" His mom took a deep breath. "When did this start happening?" "Two weeks ago," he sniffed. It felt better now it was just the two of them. "Why didn't you tell us?" "I felt bad. Ashamed." She pulled him to her and he felt himself crying again. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. At least nothing we can't deal with." About ten minutes later, he saw his dad, brother and Billy coming. He wiped his eyes and tried to sit up straighter. His mom seemed to intuit what was coming by his change in posture. She turned and he tried to get up. She put a hand on his shoulder, "No, you sit up front with your dad. I'll ride in back." He smiled as best he could. He was getting to sit up front. He knew she'd done it to save him questioning from his brother and Billy. As they hit the highway, he felt all his energy going. He rested his head against the door and felt the vibrations of the car. He could hear his mother talking and suspected she was trying to quiet down Jack and Billy. He didn't really care. The worst had happened. Occasionally his dad glanced over at him, but all Ryan could manage was half a smile. For a moment, his hand rested on his crotch. He didn't want to say anything but he was now sure there was less down there than before. He turned back to looking out of the window. --- Chuck Olyball pulled into the stop. He'd been driving for eight hours straight and needed to get off the road, especially if the DOT assholes came around to check his log. All the truckers stopped at the diner, coming as it did at the intersection of 76 and the Turnpike. All points on the compass. Al, the chef and owner,offered a warm place to sit and eat and not be bothered. "Hey Arlene." He waved, the muscles in his arm protesting after being held at pretty much the same angle for so long. "Hey Chuck." She didn't even turn around. He took a seat by the counter and picked up the laminated menu. He didn't have to wait long. "Coffee?" Arlene was a middle aged woman. Still attractive even though he'd never seen her looking anything less than tired. "Uh huh. Keep it coming." He watched, part mesmerized by the dark liquid pouring into the cup. When it was near to the top, she asked, "Cream?" He shook his head and she finished pouring. "You know what you want?" He smiled. "I want a cheeseburger deluxe, but Donna's on a diet, which means I am too," he groaned while Arlene smiled. "So, give me," and he scanned the menu, "a grilled chicken sandwich. With a side salad." He figured that was close enough to what everyone ordered to be safe. He watched her go to the hatch and call out his order. From somewhere in the kitchen, Al called back. He must have been here a hundred times but he couldn't remember seeing Al once. He rubbed his eyes. "Tough drive?" "Uh huh. California to here in four days. Goddamn company." Lately, they'd been making the trips longer and the deadlines shorter. "They keep this up, I'll be paying them." She laughed although he expected she'd heard it before. "Where are you heading?" "North Jersey, Elizabeth." He nodded, his stomach growling. "You looking for company?" He looked at her and she laughed. "Not that kind. I mean someone to ride along, keep you awake." "Who?" "That guy." Arlene indicated over his shoulder. How had he missed him when he came in? A man in full clown costume. Bright red hair and nose, painted white face, the whole thing. "Says his name is Bobo." Arlene pronounced it 'Bob-O' as she continued with her cleaning. As far Chuck could see, she was just moving the grease around. "You mean that clown?" he spoke slowly and looked at her closely, trying to catch a tell that this was some sort of joke. "No need to get nasty, Chuck. He needs a ride, you could use the company..." He cut her off. "I mean the guy in the clown suit." She looked at him like he'd just suggested there was a dragon in the parking lot. "Over there." He pointed. She just shrugged. "I mean he's a little unusual, but who isn't? I'll get him over here." Before Chuck could say anything, she motioned for the guy to come over. It only took a second for the guy to see her. "Hey," he sat on the stool next to Chuck and extended a hand, "I'm Bob- o." "What's that, Eastern European or something?" Might as well play along and get it over with. "Sure. Something like that." The clown shrugged. He'd brought over his plate with the half-finished cheese burger. Chuck wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his hunger. Arlene placed his grilled chicken sandwich down in front of him. He couldn't repress the sigh. Bobo looked down at his own plate. "You want it?" There was something strange in his accent. Maybe European, hidden behind a strong Wisconsin accent. Chuck just stared at the half a burger. "Go on," Bobo nudged him, "I've already eaten a whole one. This is my second." You can afford two meals, but you're hitching? He thought. Bobo winked. "Clown's gotta eat." Chuck smiled, glad the ridiculousness of the situation had been acknowledged. "God, that tastes good." Better than Al's normal cooking. Had he put something new in it? "Hang on a sec. Gotta go see a man about a horse," he said, nodding towards the men's room. He came out to see Bobo waiting by the truck cab, an army backpack over his shoulder, incongruous against the clown suit. "So, I gotta ask. What's with the get-up? You lose a bet?" Bobo grinned, his teeth perfectly white and straight. "No, I'm an artist. It's a conceptual thing. I'm Ronald McDonald, an American icon traveling from coast to coast." "I bet the government paid for you, right?" Chuck's tone got defensive. Bobo laughed and slapped him on the arm. "I'm busting your balls. I'm headed to a janitor's job in Millstone. Fancy ass private school. All girls," he snickered. "And the clown outfit?" "Like you say, a bet." Chuck decided to drop it, whatever the joke was he didn't care anymore, "Well, anyway, I'm headed to Elizabeth. I can drop you at the Molly Pitcher, if that works. I'd take you all the way, but I'm on deadline." Bobo smiled, a strange smile. "That'll be great. I'll figure out my way from there." --- Ryan sat on the landing. He'd gone to bed half an hour earlier but his parents voices had drawn him out. Placing his head next to the wooden rails, he tried to listen to what was being said. "You heard what the doctor said." They were both in the kitchen, but this mother was closer to the doorway so easier to hear. His dad was saying something but he couldn't make out what. "It's not about how he's been raised so far. It's about what's best for him... her, whatever, going forward." Ryan felt his stomach turn. The sound of the dishwasher being turned on. As they came out into the hall, Ryan pulled back a little so he was hidden by the shadows. "But what about Ryan? What does he want?" His dad sounded serious. "Ryan wants to play computer games all day and eat only Cheetos for dinner. We're his parents, we have to make that decision for him," he heard the door to the living room opening. "It's his life. This decision will be with him all his life!" "I know." His mom sounded pissed. "That's what I'm worried about." The living room door closed behind them. After a few minutes, he heard the muffled sound of the TV turning on. "Ryan?" He nearly jumped. Turning around, he saw Jack standing there. He looked younger in his Ironman PJs. "Yeah." What should he say? Would Jack tell on him? "You OK?" In all his life he couldn't remember his little brother ever asking how he was. "Yeah." His voice wavered. "Listening to mom and dad?" Jack's expression was intense. "Uh-huh." It looked like Jack was searching for something to say. He moved towards Ryan, who couldn't stop himself from flinching, expecting the next leg in their prank war. After a moment of awkwardness, Jack hugged him. The action was so unexpected Ryan didn't have time to put his defenses up. All he could do was hug back and wipe a tear from his eye. Glad his brother couldn't see his face. A few seconds later they pulled apart. "So," a smile played across Jack's face, "are you going to be my big sister now?" Ryan couldn't help smile a little himself. "I don't know." Jack perked up a little. "Does that mean I get your Star Wars figures?" He paused clearly thinking, "You can keep Rey," he added magnanimously. --- The last weeks of summer were filled with trips to different medical experts. Experts meant going into the city or farther away. Which meant long drives with one of his parents, while the other stayed with Jack. Today, it was his father's turn to take him to someone in the city which meant long silences in the car. Which was fine with him. When his mother took him, she wouldn't be quiet. And lately, when she spoke to him, if she spoke to him, it was as if she was blaming him for what was going on. He sat in the specialist's, he forgot what kind, office while his father and the doctor traded off speaking. "So are there any other cases like Ryan?" His father had dispensed with the small talk somewhere between the second or third specialist. "Well Mr Koopman, there are many documented cases of hermaphroditism, going all the way back to Ancient Greece. The word itself is of..." "I know the roots of the word, doctor, but I'm asking you a question." His father was an engineer. "Very analytical," his mother said. He didn't seem analytical now, Ryan thought. The doctor sighed and looked to Ryan. "I understand your frustration, Mr. Koopman. As I was saying, there are two documents cases of late onset androgen insensitivity syndrome, where the person naturally changed gender. One in England back in the 1990s and one here in the US more recently." The doctor had long fingers, the tips of which he pressed together to create a kind of pyramid. It reminded Ryan a little of the pictures he'd seen of Viking longhouses. "And you think Ryan is like that?" his father interrupted the doctor again. He could see him watching the doctor's face intently. "Again, as I was saying..." The doctor leaned back, then leaned forward again. "No, Ryan is not like that." Ryan squirmed in his seat. "He has changed at...a chromosomal level." Before his father could speak, he continued. "His blood work shows two X chromosomes and, well, Mr. Koopman, had you ever had...." His father glared at the doctor. "We, my wife, had amnio with..Ryan. I have the results at home. I know what it showed." At that point, Ryan felt his head spinning as the doctor went off into a detailed explanation of something called 'intersex' and how it could be difficult to notice before puberty in certain children. His ears started to buzz. 'Intersex', he'd never even heard that word before. He closed his eyes, trying to banish thoughts of what they would say about him at school. And trying not to throw up. After the consultation, his father said, "You hungry?" Ryan didn't answer and his father continued, "Let's get something before we hit the road. Traffic's going to be a bitch...shhh, don't tell your mom I said that. There's a great burger place, Burger Joint, a couple of blocks from here. You'll really like it. It's hidden in the lobby of a hotel." The words spilled nervously from his father, even as he smiled. For a place that was hidden, the line was long. Ryan and his father shuffled along in silence. They sat down and were halfway through their burgers when his father. "I know you're not doing too well right now. And it sucks but maybe it's not so bad...being a girl, I mean." His dad smiled. Maybe it was a smile. Maybe he was nauseous. Ryan knew he was. Ryan froze. He put his burger down slowly and stared at the plate. His father reached out and touched his hand. He didn't pull back, but he didn't move away. Seeming to take that as a good sign, his father continued, "You'll see. I mean, your mom seems ok, right?" His mouth felt dry. "W-what's going to happen to me? What's wrong with me?" He could see tears in his father's eyes. "Nothing! There is nothing wrong with you. At all. There's something wrong with the situation. But not you. Understand?" It sounded to Ryan like he was trying to convince himself more than him. Either way it ended the conversation. He took another bite of his burger but quickly realized he'd lost his appetite. --- He didn't suppose the clothes were too bad. Overalls shorts could be for boys, although he couldn't actually think of a time he'd seen a boy wearing them. Not a boy over the age of 4. Still, he didn't like it. "Why can't I wear my regular clothes?" he had protested. His mom just replied that they didn't fit anymore. Either way he felt anxious as he approached Logan's house. As he pulled up his bike Mr Dumas, Logan's dad, was outside washing his car. "Hello Ryan." Mr Dumas didn't look around. "I haven't seen you in a while." "No. I've been sick." Which was definitely true. He half-hoped Mr Dumas wouldn't turn around, and half wanted to make him look. "I've heard. Your mom told us." He half-looked at him. "You look like you've lost weight." He smiled. "And lost your barber too." Ryan's hand shot up to his hair. He half expected it to have grown down his back during the ride over. "Yeah, well. I couldn't really get out last couple of weeks." "I imagine." Mr Dumas half turned and smiled. "Logan is out back if you want to join him." The Dumases had a pool in their backyard. Last summer, Logan and Ryan had spent most of their summer in it. That seemed like a distant world to Ryan as he pushed his bike through the gate. The noise and the smell of chlorine hit him first. Logan was in the pool splashing around with another boy. Shit. Michael, Logan's older brother. He'd shot up over the last year, even more since the start of summer. He was now a foot and half taller than Logan. He was on the swim team, and his shoulders were getting broader as well. "Hey." He held his hand up in greeting. He hated how squeaky his voice sounded. Michael stopped first, turning and looking. "Who's the girl?" he said while Logan still splashed him. Finally Logan turned to look. "Idiot. That's not a girl. That's Ryan. Hey, Ryan!" Logan waved. Ryan had never been so relieved to see anyone smiling. He was so pleased he didn't quite catch what Michael was muttering. Ryan dumped his bike and came to the edge of the pool. He sat down cross legged, touching the water with the tips of his fingers. "You not coming in?" Logan waded over to him. Ryan shook his head. "Can't." "Because you, er... were...sick?" "Yeah," Ryan lied. He wondered what Logan knew. Logan treaded water a few feet away from him. Behind him, Michael stood in the shallow end just watching. "You look different," Logan said quietly. "Your dad says I look I've lost weight." "Yeah." Logan nodded sagely. "Your hair looks longer." Ryan just nodded and ran a hand through it. "You look like one of the Beatles." He remembered the concert they did in third grade, where they sang "Yellow Submarine." And Dylan Avella got in trouble for singing, "We all live in a yellow submarine. A rotten tangerine. A Playboy Magazine." Michael had swam over and was just behind Logan. The smell of chlorine was getting in Ryan's nostrils. The sun was hot on the back of his neck. He carefully took off his sneakers and socks. The cool water felt great on his feet. "Why can't you come in?" Michael asked, head cocked to one side. Ryan had to cup a hand over his eyes to see him as the sun was behind him. Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. The doctor just said I can't." He tried to sound tough. He noticed Logan and Michael give each other a look. He only realized what they were planning a moment too late. "No! Stop it! You can't..." But things were already in motion. Their hands were on his legs, then his arms pulling. His world was suddenly immersed in water. For a moment everything felt far away. He kept his eyes open being able to see through the clear water. He saw the two boys, the dark skin of their legs standing out against the blue and white tiles. A stream of bubbles around him as he fought to upright himself. For a split second, he looked up and thought he saw something. A red, blurry shape. A dog's face? A fox? Then hands were on him, pulling him out of the underwater world. He broke the surface gasping for air. "Dude, did you forget how to swim?" Logan was giving him an odd look. Then they all turned to see Logan's mother running out towards them. "What do you two think you're doing? Ryan can't go in the water! His mother says so." No one did angry as well as Logan's mom. In the past, she'd been angry at both of them together, due to some dumb thing they'd got themselves into, and Ryan had felt worse than if his own mom had caught them. Now she was pulling him out and staring daggers at Logan and Michael. It felt like a divide as big as the Grand Canyon, one he was desperate to be on the other side of. Logan's mom stood him up, then quickly wrapped him in a towel that had been lying on the side. It pinned his arms to the side and he wanted to protest she was treating him like a baby. He dared not look, but he knew both boys were staring at him. He managed to escape the embrace of the towel for a moment, putting his hands on his knees so he could regain his breath. The water had soaked through all his clothes. Only now did he realize why his mother had chosen the overall shorts for him. Glancing over, neither boy had noticed. He thanked god and his mother for the stiff material for the overalls bib. But Logan's mom's eyes told him she had. She whispered, "It's OK, Ryan. Put this around you." She wrapped the towel tight around him again and he sat down. "Do you want me to call your mom?" She said this more loudly. "No," he snapped. This was bad enough. It would make it a thousand times worse. He knew he could trust Logan, but he didn't want Michael spreading the news that he was the type that had to go running to mommy just because he was a little wet. Then, he saw the look in her eyes. One he couldn't read. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dumas. I'll be OK." He didn't want to know what she knew about...everything. "It's hot. I'll dry off fast." She looked at him for a moment and he didn't his best to silently plead for her mercy. Somehow he must have got through to her because she smiled and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "OK sweetheart." She looked at her son, "I better not hear anything else like this, Logan." Logan did his best to look contrite, which made both Ryan and Michael laugh. "Don't think you're excluded, Michael." Which made Ryan and Logan laugh, making him feel a little better. The next hour was fine. He didn't have to do much talking as Logan and Michael took it in turns to fill him in on the neighborhood gossip. He waited until he was absolutely sure he was dry before putting the towel to one side. After that they went inside and played on Logan's Switch for a few hours. This was the best he'd felt in weeks. There were a few odd moments. When they were playing Mario Kart, Logan leaned into him to knock him off his game. He couldn't be sure but it felt like Logan had got stronger since he last tried that tactic. He also found it weird that Michael left his shirt off the whole time. It was uncomfortable when they were playing against each other and had to sit close. It was starting to get dark so he knew he needed to leave soon. Ryan went to get on his bike, when he caught Mrs. Dumas giving her husband a look. "How about I drive you home, Ryan?" Mr. Dumas offered. Huh? He had never said that before, not this early. "Um, that's fine but you don't have to. I'll be OK." He smiled a little. "You know what? Why don't I? It's getting dark and I'm sure your dad would do the same in reverse. Lots of...crazy drivers out there." Logan's mom smiled at him. "Just let him do it. And say hi to your parents for me." He was a half an hour past his curfew but, on the ride over, he planned his excuses. How he hadn't been out in two weeks. He put his bike in the garage and was in the mud room, when he heard his parents voices. "I just don't think it's fair," his dad sounded exasperated. His mother frustrated, "Fair? Seriously, Jason?" She never used his name, just called him 'honey' or 'Jase,' "What does fair have to do with any of this?" He heard his father fumble around. He always joked that you should never marry a lawyer. "I know. But, if he wants to go as a boy, why not? They had that whole meeting last year." He couldn't make out what they were saying. "Hey, it'll get him out of gym. He'd love that." They both laughed. A small break in the tension. "It's only a year before he leaves there anyway. And who knows what they'll figure out in that time?" "Jason," again his mom used his dad's first name, "have you looked at Ryan? I mean really looked? We. Don't. Have. A. Year." His dad must have said something but he couldn't hear. "You heard what Grace said happened." Grace was Logan's mom's name. She must have called them. His dad was a little louder this time. "That's just teenage boys horsing around. No one lost an eye..." His voice tailed off at the end. "It's not just teenage boys horsing around. It's teenage boys and teenage girls. One teenage girl. And you know what that leads to." Ryan heard them moving away into the kitchen. He leaned against the wall, feeling the cold wallboard on his back. 'Not just horsing around', what had Grace seen that he hadn't? He'd felt Logan's strength. Seen how much bigger Michael was. But they were still Logan and Michael. Still kids he'd known for years. Even if Michael was all full of himself because he was going into tenth grade. They were 'Logan' and 'Michael'. 'Doofuses' not 'boys'. At least not in any sense that made them different from him. He closed his eyes, counted slowly to a hundred, then went in. ------- Ryan had been dreading the first day of school. He always hated it, but at least he always had Logan to hang around with. This year, though, they didn't have lunch together which meant that he'd be alone, or sitting with Amit and Billy D, who was admittedly better than Billy P, but not by much. He ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't like the new haircut, the way the hair flopped in front of his face. He wanted it shorter, like almost a buzz cut, but the woman who cut his hair told him, 'no one wears it like that' and that 'this would look much cooler.' He caught her giving his mother a look. The haircut wasn't helped by his clothes. He had been hoping for a cool day, so he could wear his sweatshirt to hide...them. He realized how stupid that was. It was the first week of September. Cool meant 85. He still came down for breakfast in his sweatshirt. His mother looked at him. "Take that off, Ryan." "No," he said. He hated the way that he sounded. "It is," and she looked at her phone, "87 degrees outside. And it's going above 90. You will die of heat stroke. Take off the sweatshirt now." He had looked at himself in the mirror this morning. The way he did every morning now. And every afternoon. And every evening. Without the sweatshirt, he would be doomed. He couldn't pretend anymore. But, he also knew that he'd lose this fight, especially since his dad wasn't here, having had to leave for an early meeting. He took off the sweatshirt and there it was, they were. "If I go like this, I'm a dead man..." A cloud of worry passed across his mother's face, soon replaced by what his father called her lawyer face. "It'll be fine, Ryan. We'll take care of it after breakfast," her tone reminding him of what she said when he had an accident in kindergarten. This got a snicker from Jack. His mother glared. "Stop it NOW, Jack! We discussed this!" Ryan sighed. "It's fine, mom. I'll go take care of it myself," as he walked away from the table, smacking Jack in the head on the way. Jack turned around and Ryan looked at him, then his mom and then back, defying him to say anything. He didn't. Ryan went upstairs and took off the sweatshirt and his t shirt, the Doctor Who one that he'd bought online, the one Michael told him and Logan was 'girl repellent.' He looked down at his chest and thought that Michael was clearly wrong. Resigned, he took out the Ace bandage. He tied it tightly around his chest, remembering to put on the clips so it wouldn't slip. He took a black t shirt - his blackest one, if you could distinguish between blacks - and put it on. Well, at least his chest looked smaller. Maybe, if no one looked too closely, they wouldn't notice the bandage. He went back downstairs. His mother looked at him and said, "You'll feel much better. Trust me." She handed him a plate of french toast. "Here you go." He pushed around the food with his fork. "Ryan, you have to eat." "It's fine. I'm not hungry," he said, moving the french toast through the syrup. When he was little, he'd pretend the french toast was a spaceship moving through the space of syrup. God, he was stupid then. She looked concerned. She put her hand on his. "It's going to be OK. You need to eat something. You don't have lunch until fifth period." 'Period' made his stomach turn. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "I'll be fine. I ate a lot last night." If you counted a hamburger as a lot. She looked at him. "How about a granola bar? I'll feel much better if you get something in your stomach." He didn't want the granola bar. He felt like if he even took a bite, he'd puke, but he also knew that he had no option. That if he didn't eat it, she'd make him stay here and then he'd miss the bus and then she'd drive him, which would make him look that much worse, when everyone saw his mommy drop him off on the first day. So, he choked down the granola bar and his milk. He got his knapsack. "Bye," he said, getting up from the table. But not without hitting Jack one more time on the way out. "It'll be OK, Ryan," his mother said, eschewing her usual, 'have a great day!' She knew and he knew that wasn't going to happen. He walked to the bus stop and no one was there yet. Which made sense since the bus wasn't due for 15 minutes. He stood there and looked around, at the woods across the street. The usual collection of birds and squirrels. And one beaver, or maybe a rat. Then, he saw it. The fox, which turned to look at him, and then ran back into the woods. The first one to arrive at the bus was Taylor Bernstein, one of the 'cool girls.' He had no idea how you became 'cool.' He only knew that she was and he wasn't. He kept staring at the woods. "Hey, Ryan," she said, looking him up and down. "Cool haircut." He smiled. "Thanks." Don't say anything stupid here and maybe you have a chance. "Yours too." Yours too? So much for the chance. She laughed. "Um, it's the same one I had last year, but thanks." She kept staring at him. He felt naked. Which normally would have scared him but now terrified him. "You look...different." He must have had a look on his face, because she said, "Not bad or anything. Just different." "I dunno," he mumbled. "So what did you do this summer?" She played with the end of her hair, twisting it around her finger. "The usual. Went to camp. This summer, I got to be in the teen house." He had no idea what that meant, as he didn't go to sleepaway camp. But, from the look on her face, it was clearly a big deal, so he said, "Cool! What did you get to do this summer that you didn't get to do before?" She smiled. "Oh, lots of stuff. We got a later curfew. And we had a TV and a soda machine, although everyone wanted to watch was 'Real Housewives,' which was stupid. And we went on a trip to Washington, which was cool, which was where I got this shirt." She was wearing a Georgetown t-shirt, with a bulldog on it. It fell right between her breasts, which made him feel self-conscious again. He nodded. "Wow, that sounds like fun." He hoped she didn't ask him how his summer was. Well, I hung around and did nothing until I saw Miley and her cousin and then I became a girl. Thankfully, she didn't ask, just kept talking until Emily Adamson came and then he went back into the social void. The bus stopped at Logan's stop and he sat down next to Ryan. "Hey," he said. "Hey." They had hung out once since the pool, playing video games. He kept looking over at him. "Um, I like your haircut," he whispered. That was weird. "Er thanks..." When did they start noticing each other's hair? "Are you OK?" Logan looked nervous. Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, I dunno." He smiled. "I get out of gym." Ryan and Logan hated gym, their two least favorite words being 'dodgeball unit.' Followed by 'PACER test.' Logan laughed. "No fair. All because you were," and he dropped his voice even lower, "sick." Ryan shrugged, feeling the Ace bandage itching already. The sweat was pooling in it. He hoped that they had fixed the a/c over the summer. It had been broken the last week of June and they almost died in the heat, even with the windows open. The bus ride was uneventful, other than the strange stares he got from half the kids who got on the bus, the others thankfully ignoring him like they had since second grade. They walked into school, with all the other kids flowing off all of the other buses. The cool kids exchanging greetings, the burnouts all hovering while the deans watched them and the Ryans and Logans all trying to get inside as fast as possible before... "Oh look who it is. Koopgirl and his boyfriend." Charlie Hansen. The bane of their existence. Had he grown over the summer? He was now easily 5 inches taller than Ryan, which meant that he was now taller than his IQ. He looked at Ryan and snickered. "Nice haircut, Koopgirl. Maybe you really are one...now, you two can be official." Just, then Mr. Motta, the dean, came up behind him. "I know you were at the assembly last year. About appropriate language. Do we allow homophobic or transphobic language, Charlie?" Charlie glared at Logan and especially Ryan. His mouth said no sir, while his eyes said dead man. Mr. Motta turned to Ryan. "Are you OK, Ryan?" Shit. Did he have to do this now? In front of Logan and Charlie? "Um, I'm fine, sir. It was nothing." Mr. Motta looked at him and then turned to Charlie. "You are lucky that Ryan is so generous. I wouldn't have been. And won't be next time, regardless of what the person says. Am I clear, Charlie?" More glaring. "Yes, sir." "Apologize to Ryan and Logan." Why? Why did he have to say that? "Sorry, Logan. Ryan." He could hear Charlie suppressing a snicker. He offered his hand, which both boys looked leery of. They all shook and Ryan and Logan left as soon as possible. As they were walking down the hall, Ryan mumbled, "Sorry you got caught up in that..." Logan half-heartedly offered, "It's fine. He's just an asshole." "Yeah, well." And Charlie felt the sweat under the bandage going cold and clammy. --- He was excused from gym but he still had to be somewhere. The library looked over the field. He sat at the window watching his classmates being split into teams, red and blue jerseys, for a game of touch football. Personally he was glad to be out of it, but it still felt strange to be so separate from them. It didn't help that several kids noticed that he had been excused. "How come Ryan gets out?" Conor Stern whined on the first day. The coach, who was staring at Ryan the whole time, just grumbled, "It's a business decision, Stern. As in none of yours. Go get dressed." Looking around, the library was mostly empty. There was a small group of sixth graders reading in one corner and the elderly librarian was moving slowly through the aisles tidying the shelves. Ryan clutched his stomach. He'd been getting sharp pains since the morning. He'd tried telling his mother but she told him to stop making excuses and get ready for school. Which was then compounded by the fight he and Jack had. By now, he was so used to being weaker than everyone that he didn't expect the little shit to fall down when he shoved him. Now he was the one in the dog house, even though Jack had been bitching and starting with him all week. Another sharp pain. To Ryan's horror, he felt a wetness in his briefs. Fuck. He got up quickly holding his legs together in the hope nothing would show. The wetness was still there, but thankfully it only felt like a small spot. "Ma'am. Mrs. Foster." The librarian shushed him. "I'm sorry. But I need a lav pass. Please." She turned and nodded. "Hold on." She shuffled slowly to her desk, her hips moving from side to side like a listing rowboat. It took every ounce of Ryan's resolve not to push her forward. As soon as she signed the pass, he was out the door, alternating between running and trying to hold back the wetness. As he passed each classroom, he heard the voices of teachers and students. Each room its own little world. Each voice belonging. He made it to the nearest boys' room just in time. Sitting down, he felt his bowels open. He leaned back against the wall. It was a few moments before he looked down. Blood, spots of blood. He nearly fell off the seat. How, what? Finished, he stood up. He pulled off two sections of toilet paper and wiped underneath. More blood. He felt faint and woozy. Without thinking, he put some wadded up paper in his pants to try and stop the flow. Ryan waited on the plastic bench outside the principal's office. The bell had already rung and the other kids were rushing to their next class. Ryan sat there with his legs clenched shut, hoping and praying that they wouldn't see the patch of the blood near the front of his pants. He resolved not to cry or show any emotion. It didn't matter. As soon as the other kids got closer, they stopped talking and joking, their voices dropping to murmurs. As if talking would make them catch his social death. The second bell, a warning to get to classes, had gone and the hall was finally emptying when Miley sat down next to him. This was all he needed. "Hey." Miley pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Are you OK?" He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how she could make this worse. "I'm fine." "The first time you get it, it sucks. Really bad," she whispered. "This isn't my first stomach ache," he hissed. It felt like someone was scraping at his insides with their nails. She touched his arm, more gently than he expected. "Oh, it's a stomach ache. I get it." "It is," he said, putting his head in his hands. "I don't know what you think it is, but it's just a stomachache. A really bad one." He could feel her hand on his back. "You know I've been sick." He heard her sigh. "I need a stomach ache like that. Your hair looks really good." Despite himself, he touched his hair, which seemed to get longer every day. "Er, thanks. I think." "You know," Miley withdrew her hand, he looked up to see she'd rested her hands in her lap and was avoiding looking at him, "if you ever want to talk, you can come over." "I don't think your dad will like that." She scoffed, "Don't worry about him. I can take care of him." She laughed. "Or is it just that Olivia's not here anymore?" "She went home?" She laughed, then folded her arms. "Yup. Back to Hogwarts. Probably studying transfiguration or divination. Getting ready to take her Owls." For the first time he smiled. "So you're a Potterhead then?" "No," she said quickly, "shut up!" His smile turned into a grin, which quickly disappeared when the stabbing pains in his stomach started again. He bent over, his hands clasping his stomach. At that moment, the principal came out of her office. Miley jumped up, catching the look in the principal's eyes she said, "Um, sorry ma'am. My friend... and... I'll get to class." She turned, then stopped, looking back. "A hot water bottle always helps me." Miley glanced up at the principal, then over at Ryan. "Oh, yeah, you're totally a Hufflepuff." She smiled at Ryan who rolled his eyes. Then she darted off to the science rooms. His mother arrived about 40 minutes later, carrying underwear and pants. And a bag from Walgreens. He hoped no one had seen her. Before she got there, the school nurse had helped him clean up and had given him a pair of shorts from lost and found. They were the only boys' shorts in there and they were two sizes too big, which only made his legs look scrawnier. The nurse took his mother aside. "He...she...Ryan...got his period," he heard her say. "We took care of it. I gave...Ryan...a pad but I think...." They kept looking at him and then looking away as soon as they saw him look back. His mother sat down on one side of him, the nurse on the other. She was pretty, in that school nurse way. Her legs nearly touched his. His mother put her hand on his. "I am so sorry, honey. You said... and I didn't put two and two together..." He didn't look at her, instead staring at a poster on the wall. 'Drugs, does your child know more than you?' - He read it over and over until it became like one of those mantras they had them do in the yoga unit in gym. The words losing their meaning. He kept staring at the wall. "Uh huh..." "It's perfectly natural," she said robotically. "It happens to everyone." The nurse took his other hand. "It's fine, Ryan. We all experience them. Don't worry. I'm not going to give you a speech about how wonderful it is." She looked over him at his mother. "It isn't. But it's something we all go through." Which made his mother laugh. He just prayed that no one else saw. Or heard. He didn't think they had until the nurse got up and quickly closed the door.