As it happened, I didn’t see Rupert again until school started, but we talked frequently on the phone. I told him that I had finished the books he loaned me and was surprised at how straightforward they were.
“They are,” he said, “although they don’t tell you anything about gay sex.”
I knew I had heard the word gay batted about, usually as a putdown, but I only knew that the word was an old-fashioned one meaning happy or bright. So I asked, “What’s gay sex?”
“Oh dear, you are behind the times,” he said, but then, perhaps he was afraid I’d be insulted, he said, “It’s okay. I’d much rather have you just learning things than being a brash know-it-all. Gay sex is between two people of the same gender, two men or two women.”
“Men can have sex with other men?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“How?”
“I guess that’ll be part two of The Talk. I’ll tell you when the time is right. Are you ready for school?”
“As ready as I can be, I guess. I’m kinda nervous though. I haven’t been in this middle school before. You’re the only one there that I’ll know.”
“Don’t worry. You’re friendly and you’ll make friends quickly.”
“I hope so. I don’t see myself as friendly; I see myself as shy.”
“I’ll be there to make sure you get friends,” he said.
The day after Labor Day, Grandpa got us up as usual. Ashley made us a good breakfast as well as sandwiches and bags of potato chips for our lunches. We waited on the corner for the bus. Because the middle and high schools were in the same building, we rode the same bus. When it came, it drove past us. Then it stopped and the door opened.
“That’s odd,” Ashley said as we hustled to the door, “It’s almost as though they weren’t expecting us.”
When we got to the school we learned why. Rupert joined us as we went into the office to get our schedules and locker numbers, and the receptionist asked, “What’s your last name?”
“Preston,” Ashley said.
The receptionist looked over her list and said, “We don’t have any Prestons registered here.”
Ashley told her where we lived and she agreed that we certainly were in the right school. She suggested that I go with Rupert and she’d get students to escort Nigel and Ashley.
As we stood outside the office, Nigel said, “Damn. Grandpa should have taken care of the registrations.” He called Grandpa and told him what had happened. Grandpa said he’d come to the school and straighten it all out. So, for that day we were orphan students.
Rupert took me first to his home room, where he introduced me to the teacher and explained what had happened. She wrote down my name and introduced me to the class.
After attendance was taken and announcements were made over a PA system, we were sent to the first class, where the introductions were made all over again.
The teacher passed out books to the class ─ English, and reading ─ saying to me that she could loan me the books for the class but I couldn’t take them with me until I was registered. The reading text was a collection of short stories and poems. The English book was about grammar and writing. The teacher told us to read the first story and then write a short paper about it.
The story was “The Monkey’s Paw,’ by W.W. Jacobs. It didn’t seem to me to be a very cheerful story to begin the year. I was still writing when the period ended. I handed the books and the paper to the teacher and followed Rupert to the next class. And so the day proceeded. I couldn’t take part in PE because I didn’t have the required clothes, but I liked the PE coach and most of the classes and teachers.
At lunch, as Rupert and I sat at a table, an older boy came by, looked at us, and then said to Rupert, “Hey, queer, who’s your little friend. Is he as queer as you?”
Rupert tried to ignore him, receiving a punch in the arm for his efforts.
“I asked you a question, dickhead. Answer me.”
Rupert was blushing as he said, “This is Garreth.”
“GarreTH?” the boy said, emphasizing the th. “Doth he lithp?”
Rupert jumped up and got very close to the bigger boy. “No, he dothn’t lithp.” As he said the last word, he shot a spray of spit in the boy’s face.
The boy grabbed Rupert by his shirt but before he could do anything else, I was up and standing with my friend. I’m not sure what would have happened if a teacher hadn’t come along and ordered the older boy to leave.
We sat back down. Both of us were shaking.
“Thanks, Garreth,” Rupert said.
“If we’re gonna be friends, we gotta stick up for each other,” I said. “Do you think he’ll give us more trouble?”
“Yeah. I don’t think this is over.”
“Do you know his name?” I asked.
“Louis. He tormented me for years in grade school.”
At the end of the day we went to the office again, found out what bus we’d be on, and took a note to the bus driver telling her where to let us off. I knew that Rupert would be riding a different bus.
“I’ll have all your papers ready for tomorrow morning. I told your grandfather that you’d all need to get physicals. It’s a state requirement.”
“That means we’ll need to find a new doctor,” Nigel moaned.
As we sat on the bus, who should climb aboard but Louis. He walked down the aisle and past me before he stopped, backed up, and said, “Well, if it ithn’t GarreTH. JusTH wait. You’re gonna get yourth.”
He walked toward the back of the bus, and Nigel asked, “Who was that?”
“That’s Louis. He’s an eighth grader and a bully. Rupert had trouble with him in grade school.” Then I told Nigel what had happened at lunch.
“Save my seat,” he said. He stood and walked to the rear of the bus. I heard his raised voice but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. When he returned to his seat, he said, “If that twerp even looks cross eyed at you again, let me know.”
At supper that night, Grandpa actually apologized for not registering us. “I forgot all about the fact that you’re in a new school district,” he said. Then he told us that a trustee had been named to supervise our trust and that grandpa himself had been named as our guardian. After that, we talked about finding a doctor for us. He said his own doctor could probably do that.
After we finished the dishes, I went out to the front porch to call Rupert. I told him what had happened with Louis and Nigel, and I had figured out where Louis lived.
At school the next morning, we again went into the office and received our schedules, our locker numbers and their combinations, as well as notices to our teachers of our enrollment.
The schedule changed daily, and that morning Rupert and I had English second period. The teacher gave me the books I would need and then she talked about the papers she’d received the day before. We discussed the story briefly, and then she returned the papers. Mine had an A+ on it, and she smiled as she handed it to me. Rupert told me later that he got a B-, which was about what he expected. Then he grinned, called me a teacher’s pet, and gently punched my arm.
Rupert and I did not have all our classes together, but we had English, math, and PE jointly.
As we sat at a lunch table, Louis walked by. He smirked at me, but he didn’t say anything, so we enjoyed our lunch in peace.
“If you come on my bus,” Rupert said, “we could do our homework together. I asked Mom and she said it was fine and she’d give you a ride home.”
“That sounds good,” I said, “but I’ll need to let Ashley or Nigel know.”
At the end of the school day, I went out and stood by the door of my bus until Nigel showed up. I told him the plan and he nodded.
Rupert and I sat together on his bus, talking about our classes. When we got to his house, we made sandwiches and drank Cherry Cokes before going to his room. He wanted me to read the paper he had gotten back that morning. I read it and the comments the teacher had written on it. I couldn’t disagree with anything she said.
“Okay,” I said. “The grade we got was a combined grade for what we said about the story and for how we said it. I think your grade was more for how you wrote than for what you wrote. Basically, I think you need to take more time organizing your thoughts.” His paper reflected what my fifth-grade teacher had called a shotgun approach, with no connection between his points.
When we finished our homework, we had time for a bit of a cuddle before it was time for me to leave. With shirts off, we held each other and kissed. We didn’t do anything else that evening, although of course we were both hard and hot.
I sat in the back seat of the Gordons’ car with Rupert, giving his hand a special squeeze before I got out and went into our house.
The school week wore on. I looked forward to Saturday, hoping I could sleep in but aware that Grandpa probably wouldn’t let me.
My phone rang at 7:15 a.m. Groaning, I picked it up, saw it was Rupert, and answered it.
Before I could say anything, I heard him say, “Garreth, I need you!” Clearly, he was crying.
“I don’t know how I can get there,” I said.
“Just come!” he said and broke the call.
I climbed out of bed, took a quick shower, dressed, and went into the kitchen. Grandpa was there and Ashley was making breakfast.
“Grandpa, sir,” I said, “I need to get to Rupert’s house. He’s really upset about something.”
To my surprise, he stood up, said, “Let’s go,” and picked up his car keys. With me giving him directions, we rode silently to Rupert’s house. I thanked him, he drove away, and I hurried to the front door.
I knocked but nothing happened. I knocked harder. The door opened a little and I could see the chain that was keeping it from opening farther. Rupert looked out, then closed the door, unhooked the chain, and opened the door for me.
When I first saw him I was shocked. Blood was pouring from his nose, and he had a nasty cut on his cheek. He was holding a towel to his face and he was obviously crying.
“Come on,” I said, taking his hand and leading him into the downstairs bathroom. I had him sit on the closed toilet and tipped his head as far back as it could go, while I took the towel and wiped as much of the blood from his face as I could. Telling him I’d be right back I hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of plastic sandwich bags, filled them with ice, and zipped them closed. I rushed back into the bathroom, put one of the ice bags on his nose and told him to hold it while I held the other up to the gash on his cheek.
The flow of blood from his nose slowed and finally stopped. The gash on his cheek bled longer, and I was pretty sure he’d need stitches.
“Where’s your family?” I asked him.
“They went out to breakfast but I didn’t want to go.”
“What happened?”
“I heard someone knock on the door so I ran down from my bedroom and opened it without even thinking. Louis was there. He pushed me into the hall and said, “Hey, queer boy, I’ve had enough of you,” and he slugged me in the face. I fell and he kicked me a couple of times and then ran. I got up and called you before I went into the kitchen and grabbed the towel.”
“Have you called your parents?”
“No. I didn’t even think about that. I wanted you.”
“Okay, you need to call them, now.”
He nodded, took his phone out of his pocket, and called his dad. When he told him what had happened, his dad said they’d be right there.
A few minutes later his family arrived and his mother held him in her arms.
“You’ll get blood all over you,” Rupert said.
“I don’t care, sweetie.”
She didn’t seem to be in any condition to drive, so Mr. Gordon drove us all to the hospital where, while we sat in the waiting room, Mr. Gorden called the police and talked with them for quite a while. After an interminable wait, Rupert was taken for X-rays and then got some stitches in his cheek. The doctor said he didn’t think there’d been any permanent damage or much scarring.
We rode back to the Gordens’ home, where a police cruiser was just pulling up.
In the living room, Rupert told the officer what had happened, naming Louis but saying he didn’t know his last name.
“But I think I know where he lives,” I offered.
The officer made some notes in a little pad and said that Rupert would need to go to the police station the next day and sign a report. Then he left.
Rupert and I went up to his room. When his door was closed, he hugged me, hard. He had started to cry again, so I led him over to his bed and told him to lie down.
“Thank god you came,” he said.
I just sat there, beside him, holding his hand, until I realized he was asleep. I left his room and went downstairs where his parents were in the kitchen drinking coffee.
“He’s asleep,” I told them. Then I asked for some coffee, which Mr. Gorden gave me. We talked quietly for some time before Mr. Gorden gave me a ride home.
As we pulled up to my house, he thanked me and I went inside, where I had to explain why I had blood all over my clothes.
Rupert called in the afternoon and thanked me. We talked for a bit, and then he said, “Garreth, I think I love you.”
“Oh,” I said, thinking quickly. “I guess we’ll talk about that when we’re together again.”
Love? I thought. I hadn’t thought about loving him at all. What we did was fun, even titillating, but did I love him? I remembered what he had said about gay men. I wondered, can two boys really love each other? I had no idea.
Copyright © 2025 Alan Dwight
Posted 7 May 2025