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I was lolling on Alan Bowers' bed flicking through a Sunday supplement when he came storming in, slammed the door and leant back against it, eyes shut and breathing like an over-stoked steam engine.

"Those damn juniors will be the death of me," he said.

Tricky Seega, who had been sitting in the room's sole arm chair 'oohing' and 'aahing' over the latest celebrity gossip, rolled his eyes at me and, in one fluid movement, was out of the chair, across the room, and hugging our house captain. Bowers' eyes flicked open, swiftly checked the room to see if it was safe, and then with a sigh, reciprocated. I leapt out of their way as, still entwined, they collapsed on the edge of the bed.

"I'll umm, come back later, then," I said, checking to see if the coast was clear. The corridor was empty and I was closing the door behind me when Bowers called me. I stuck my head back around the door and raised an eyebrow.

"Was it important, Algy?"

I saw his concerned expression, then glanced at Seega who glared back at me with faux exasperation and stuck his tongue out, his arms still entwined around Bowers' waist.

"No. Later is fine, Alan. Thank you." I said, managing to keep a straight face and not laugh as Bowers, looking mildly perplexed, nodded.

I left them to it, closed the door, locked it and slid the key back underneath. Whistling, I went back to my study to start on prep.

A year had gone by since Alan Bowers had frightened me shitless in my dormitory whilst I'd been reading Stephen King's 'The Shining.' A year of growing; being taken under Bowers' wing as the younger brother he'd never had; of being introduced to his beloved Tricky Seega - who was at first nervous, then jealous and finally, when he realised I wasn't trying to cozen his boyfriend away from him, became a true friend. That they both cared I had no doubt. I felt safe and loved because of it and consequently had bloomed.

Whereas Bowers was a typical prefect Seega was the antithesis. Bowers was tall, his fair hair immaculate. He was always well groomed, well dressed, and a good example to the younger students. Seega was tall too, but that where any likeness ended. His raven hair was long and messy, his dress sense peculiar-he grinningly called it 'shabby-chic'. He painted his nails too, or had until he'd been suspended from the 1st XI squash team by the prefects' council for disreputable behaviour. Shortly afterwards, in a blazing row with the school captain that was still being talked about in awed whispers, he'd resigned his prefect's badge and he and Bowers had become an unofficial item. Now, love had Tricky behaving.

Finishing my prep I put it away and created a new section in my on-line journal: 'Hols - to do'. Then I opened Google maps and started thinking.

The holidays were coming. Alan and Tricky were going to stay with me for a couple of days and after the things we'd talked about I had plans to make.

* * *

It was late on a Saturday night near the beginning of term and we were sitting around in Bowers' study, nattering. I was about to say goodnight as I'd noticed Alan and Tricky were giving each other doe eyes and I didn't want to be a spare wheel, when all of a sudden-and I don't remember how we got on to the subject-we were talking about cruising. Alan, who at eighteen was a year older than both Tricky and me, seemed to know quite a lot about it and, more to the point, he knew where it went on.

"You've been!" I said, working out why he was blushing. I was wide eyed and finding it hard to be as nonchalant as I'd have liked.

"Yes, once," Alan admitted. "It was, umm, an eye opener." He glanced at Tricky. "But you should never go alone, Algy." He said. Tricky nodded looking serious, his seemingly perpetual light hearted attitude and smile absent, for once.

"Alan means it Algy, he really does," Tricky said. "The heath can be a wondrous place, a veritable cornucopia of everything you've dreamt, but it can also be damned dangerous. Never ever go there alone."

My shit-faced grin slid away to be replaced by confusion. "Why are you telling me this?" I began. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to… we're not going to go, are we?

"No! Of course not." Alan said firmly in his most prefectural manner. "You see, Algy," he continued after a short, rather theatrical pause, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's a bit like drugs."

I chortled. "Yeah, but without the hangover."

"No!" Alan shook his head. "I don't mean like that. What I mean is that it's addictive."

I frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Oh!" Alan said, exasperated. I could see he wasn't sure what to say next so I looked at Tricky who was cleaning his nails with the end of a screwdriver and smiling as he listened to his boyfriend trying to be big brotherly.

"What Alan means is that sex, like drugs, is addictive."

"No I don't!" Alan snapped. Tricky raised an eyebrow at him and Alan couldn't help snickering. "Oh for god's sake, Tricky. If you can't be helpful why don't you sod off."

"You started it, dear heart," Tricky said, blithely ignoring Alan's tone.

"Yes, and I wish I hadn't." Alan muttered. Looking at me worriedly.

So we're going then?" I said, trying to mask my eagerness. "Together, when you both come and stay? Aren't we? So I won't be alone, as you said? One for all and all for one, and all that?" I was excited at the prospect of going out with them, and the idea of cruising seemed even more than daring.

Alan sighed "Oh… alright, we'll go. But we're just staying with you, Algy. When we've gone. I mean… you live there. Umm…." He glanced over at Tricky who looked back, shrugged, then continued with his screwdriver manicure.

* * *

Since the school had started accepting girls two terms previously, my brief 'friend with benefits' relationship with Mike Goody had evaporated. We were still friends, but friends with an unstated yet definite undercurrent of embarrassment. We'd been very tactile and that had stopped, which was, I thought, a shame. To be honest I missed it a lot and found it difficult to hang out with Mike as often as I'd used to. I think he was grateful, too, as he was drooling over a blonde senior in School House with 'tits to die for', or so he'd told me, guffawing as I'd pretended to puke.

I made a decision and signed up for the Volunteer Service which gave me an out from the school's Combined Cadet Force, which Mike Goody, red blooded killing machine that he was, liked just a little too much. It also gave me the added bonus of spending more time with Bowers, who ran the volunteers and welcomed me on my first day with his usual grin.

"Good to see you've come to your senses and left the warmongering to others," he said.

"Yeah, but I'm going to miss out on the manoeuvres." I said sadly. Each term the Cadet forces were taken in by the real deal for a weekend away. They got to shoot proper bullets and drive actual tanks. It was a boy's dream and by leaving the CCF I was going to miss out.

"Ah well, I can't offer you tanks or guns, but what you get instead is the genuine smile and gratitude of someone you've helped. It can be just as fulfilling."

"Mmm." I said, not wanting to argue.

"No really," Alan said again, his tone serious.

"Mmm." I repeated, looking at my shoes and was bundled onto the grass and given a good tickling. "STOP!" I shrieked, "I believe you, I really do!"

"Really?" Alan said. Tricky and three others I didn't know were standing back and smiling. "Or should I set that lot on you?"

"No, really. I can't wait to mow some old fart's lawn." I said. Alan glared at me and after a moment or two glaring back I grinned. "Gotcha!"

The mini bus collected us and dropped us off in the local village. Over the course of the next few months I got Mike Goody out of my head as I got to know my 'old gentleman'.

Rufus Surtees was in his eighties and at first really didn't want me there. I figured that out on the very first day when he told me to bugger off. Alan found me sitting on the bench by the duck pond and tartly enquired why I wasn't at work. He took me back and explained the whys and wherefores to Mr. Surtees who then, kindly, set me to mow his half acre of back garden. It was mid June and sweltering so I took my shirt off and, after cleaning the plugs, got his old petrol mower going. Several times over the next hour I saw him watching me from one or another of the downstairs windows, and by the time I'd cut half the grass he'd ensconced himself in a deckchair by the back door. I switched off the mower and, dripping with sweat, walked over to him.

"Could I have some water please, sir?" Slowly, he looked me over, his rheumy eyes the palest blue. Then he got to his feet.

"I suppose so," he said, "Always have to pay for the show one way or another, don't 'e." Frowning, I followed him as he stumped into the kitchen.

Over time, our relationship improved. He was living on a small pension, yet he always gave me a plate of chocolate biscuits and a cup of tea when I'd finished my chores, and ice-cold well water whenever I wanted it, during.

It was awkward on both sides as most of the elderly villagers didn't want to accept charity any more than a lot of the students wanted to be there. 'The volunteers' was seen by most as an easy option; a skive. Consequently we got a lot of stick from those still in the Cadet Corp. A month later, just before the holidays, A bunch of army cadets were standing by the quad when the minibus dropped us off.

"There they are, the pansy volunteers home for the night! Gonna mow my bush are you, Seega?" One wag, a corporal, said.

"You should be so lucky," Tricky snapped back. "You're in stores, aren't you Kempton, and we all know what goes on in there when you're stocktaking." He made a very rude gesture. It was lucky Alan was there otherwise there would have been a fight. I watched Mike Goody laughing with his friends until he saw me watching him. He turned awkwardly away. The end of our friendship saddened me, but by then I was learning that was the way the world went round. Much as friends were friends, it didn't always stay like that.

* * *

The sun was still high in the sky as the three of us walked across the road and out onto the heath. I'd navigated from my house and we'd arrived at the farthest side and well away from the part known to be the cruising area. When Alan asked me where we were going I'd blushed, but Tricky had nodded at me knowingly and winked, which had calmed the butterflies that were cavorting around my stomach.

"We're just walking Alan, walking and talking and seeing what's what. Yep, we're having a nice leisurely pre-prandial promenade." Tricky said as we turned onto a wide avenue between two rows of mature oaks. "The table's booked for eight and the pub's a bit of a way away."

"Oh," Alan looked at me and smiled. "Sorry chaps, I'm finding it hard to forget I'm not the house captain here."

"We noticed," Tricky laughed and I felt a pang of yearning as I saw him take Alan's hand. They held hands for a few moments, then casually slid their arms around each other's waist. I was both touched and shocked that they would do that in public. Then I snapped to, gave myself a mental slap and chuckled: after dinner we were going cruising on the heath and there I was being shy. Smiling, I took my phone out and got a couple of good shots of them, then I caught up and we walked on, down the avenue.

Slowly, we meandered across the heath enjoying the sun, an ice cream, good conversation, and without seeing too much - not that I was sure what it was I was looking out for. It was close to dusk as we approached the exit that would take us to the restaurant. I was Dancing around Alan and Tricky and rabbiting on about two young couples we'd seen sitting on a bench snogging, when three men stepped out of the bushes to our left. They were older than us by several years and I didn't like the vibe they were putting out.

"You boys up for a little action, then?" the largest of them said as they stopped on the path in front of us. He was a good four inches over six feet, had a shaven head, bad acne scars, and was wearing a wife beater and painfully tight jeans that left little to the imagination. I felt my mouth dry up as I saw his thumbs were hooked in his pockets while his fingers caressed his crotch.

"No." Alan said, flatly. "We're not." Tricky had let go of Alan's hand and had somehow ended up on my other side, putting me between them.

"Let's leave them be," the mid sized one said. He was younger than I'd first thought and quite cute, but the number of piercings he had made me shudder.

"Shut it, J!" The small one snarled and glared at his friend. Then he turned back to us. "Oh come on, you know youse wants to," he wheedled. He moved across to stand opposite Tricky and was working his hand inside his jeans, rather suggestively fondling himself. "We got condoms. 'sides, that cutie in the middle looks like 'e really needs a fuck."

I suddenly twigged who he was talking about. "Me?" I said, my voice cracking high with anxiety. They laughed and it wasn't pleasant.

"Yeah you," the big one said. He'd removed his thumbs and was now licking his lips and running his hands over his chest and twisting his nipples. "Come wiv us and find out wot a real fuck's like."

"He's underage. That's what turns you on, is it, kids?" Alan said, his voice full of anger. I was about to complain that I wasn't underage when Tricky elbowed me and shook his head.

"Then 'e can watch and we'll do the goth," the small one said, lasciviously running his tongue around his lips.

"Goth? Goth! I'm not a goth you fucking retard," Tricky said and without pause kicked him squarely in the balls. Before the big one had a chance to move Alan stepped in and hit him twice in the stomach, fast and hard. I felt like applauding as the man folded over making a noise like an extra in a bad zombie movie. That left the last one who hurriedly stepped back a pace. We looked at each other and he shrugged, then turned and fled.

Without another word Alan and Tricky each took one of my arms and, stepping over the two groaning bodies, frog marched me off the heath. They let go of me once we'd reached the road and we walked in silence until we were outside the pub where we'd booked a table. We sat down on an unoccupied bench.

I didn't think I was in shock until I'd sat down. Then I started shivering, tears came unbidden and I wanted to curl up and scream. Tricky put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed.

"Damn, that was close," Alan said, slinging his arm around me, too. I could feel their warmth, they were holding hands behind me and it was comforting. "That was a nice move, Tricky."

"Thanks," Tricky said. "What a moron! I mean, do I look like a goth to you?" He looked between us and I burst into tears.

"W-W-Would they really have?" I wailed. I felt like I was regurgitating some rotten, foul thing I'd ingested. "W-w-would they really have tried to…."

"They might have, but probably not," Alan said. "The thing is Algy there are people out there that, you know, go cruising on the heath, who are into that sort of thing. The danger of it all is what gets them going. That's why we both want you to promise us you'll never go there alone. Ever."

"I p-p-promise," I said, sniffling, and feeling much younger than my seventeen years. Alan rolled his eyes and proffered a hankie. I took it in a shaking hand and blew my nose. "Thanks," I said. "Thank you both."

Tricky chuckled. "You'll do, Algy. You'll do," he said and ruffled my hair. "Now chaps, we've got a table booked so let's eat. Then sod the heath, we'll go clubbing instead!" He laughed. "It's equally as dangerous but at least you can see the predators before they start dancing in your direction."

 

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