American Dreamer

by Shawn Wesley Ballenger

  A million thoughts were running through Brandon’s head, the main one being a feeling of guilt at the fact that Corbin thought he was dead. Corbin wasn’t just the kid who mowed his lawn, he was his friend. They both shared a mutual love of Doctor Who and could spend hours talking about it. Corbin would sometimes ask him advice, and he was always glad to share his thoughts with him. Wish Corbin had been my son, Brandon randomly thought, causing him to suddenly feel nauseated. How can you even think that, you selfish bastard? He cursed at himself. You have a son! He’s sitting right over there. His eyes shot across the cafeteria. This is your fault, Brandon Daniels, you neglected him! His eyes watered. The realization hit him that he had been substituting Corbin for his own son because it had been easier, and he hadn’t wanted to put any real effort into fixing his relationship with Cam.

  “You know?” Corbin looked towards the football table again, shaking his head sadly. “I don’t think that dickhead gave two shits about his dad. Just from what I’ve seen. I don’t understand it.”

  A loud ringtone emanated from Corbin’s pocket, interrupting his speech.

  “Hey, dude. It’s my girlfriend Rachel. I need to take this.” He stood up and grabbed his tray. “I’ll catch you after seventh period, and we’ll talk business.”

  Brandon sat there, reeling from Corbin’s observations. “Um yeah, sure.”

  “Later.” Corbin walked away, answering his phone with a friendly: ‘Hey, babe!”

  “Later,” Brandon replied as his attention immediately turned back to Cam, who was now sitting relatively quietly, though he would occasionally smile and lean over to talk to the jock sitting next to him.

  Corbin is right, thought Brandon, he doesn’t give two shits about me. He stood up and grabbed his tray. I guess that just means I’ll just have to try harder to be his friend rather than his father, He thought, more determined than ever.

  Chapter Four

  Brandon strolled down the long hallway to the locker rooms carrying his gym bag, feeling like a fish out of water. The coach had extended an invitation to Brandon to try out for the team but warned him he had a “tough row to hoe” being new to the game. He couldn’t help but let his eyes slide over the glass cases that proudly showcased Franklin High’s sports team’s achievements going back over sixty years. This led to him recalling his own high school sports memories, which were not exactly fond ones. He and his fellow gifted and talented students used to sit around lambasting high school athletics with the opinion that only people with the lowest IQs participated in them.

  Even their gifted and talented instructor would voice her frustration at the fact that the coaches were the highest-paid staff members, yet did nothing in preparing students for college or their careers. Sports generated revenue for the school, and that was why the administration placed more importance on them than academic activities such as Chess Club or Quiz Bowl.

  God, I can’t believe I’m trying to be one of them, he thought to himself as he gazed at the large trophy that had “1987 Arizona State Champions” etched into the base. He glanced at the team photo, his mind jumping back to the Fall of ’87 when during his senior year, his high school’s football team won the same title in his home state. He remembered his disgust at how the school made such a big deal out of it with endless pep rallies and school celebrations.

  “That’s my dad, you know?” Brandon jumped at the sudden sound of someone speaking.

  “Huh?” Brandon turned to find the most gorgeous set of blue eyes he’d ever seen staring at him. In his chest, his heart was skipping beats, while somewhere in his pants, a different organ was tingling.

  “The pic.” The hunk pointed. “That’s my dad. He was quarterback.”

  “Oh,” Brandon quickly glanced at the photo before jerking his head back to the six-foot-tall hunk, “nice.”

  Brandon took in the guy’s long thick eyelashes, his perfectly proportioned nose, his strong, defined chin accentuated by a dark five-o’clock shadow, and his plump red lips that looked so kissable he just wanted to take them in his mouth and suck on them.

  “Yeah. They had a kick-ass team that year. Undefeated.” The muscles in the hunk’s suntanned arm bulged as he lifted it to his forehead.

  “Cool,” Brandon said with a goofy grin as he moved his gym bag to the front of his jeans.

  “I’ve never seen you before.” The gorgeous guy ran his hand through his long curly black hair, pushing it from his face in a gesture that set Brandon’s teenage body on fire.

  “I just moved here from Georgia.” Brandon tried not to stare at the guy’s muscular pecs that strained the t-shirt across his chest.

  “Nice.” The guy gave him a once-over. “You got a name?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Brandon fumbled. “It’s Channing. Channing Burkhart.”

  “Nice to meet you, Channing Burkhart.” The hunk said with a smile so bright it would light up the darkest depths of the ocean. “I’m Logan Greenwood.”

  The name immediately sent chills down Brandon’s spine. This was Logan. Logan, as in his son’s best friend he had heard about but never met. Brandon’s palms immediately felt stick with sweat.

  “You okay?” Logan laughed, seeing that Brandon had turned a little pale.

  “Yuh-Yeah.” Brandon stuttered. “It’s just that you remind me of a guy I knew from my old school.”

  Brandon smiled as he thought of Garrett Kelton, the quarterback of his high school’s football team. While the guy was fine with a capital “F,” he was also a self-centered jerk. Last Brandon had heard, Garrett was making money doing odd-jobs around his hometown. How the mighty had fallen, thought Brandon.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Logan smiled.

  “No…it’s just…you just remind me of him.” Brandon tried to push the thoughts of Garett from his mind.

  “Was he a nice guy like me or a complete douchebag?” Logan raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Douchebag. Definitely a douchebag.” Brandon laughed as he recalled Garrett and his jock buddies throwing French fries at the geek table during lunch. “So, you’re saying you’re a nice guy aye?” Brandon cocked his head to the side and smiled at Logan.

  “I have my moments.” Logan winked playfully. “So, you any good?”

  God, he’s so cute.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never played before.” Brandon shrugged, already praying he wasn’t going to get seriously injured on the football field.

  “What?” Logan gasped. “Dude, what grade are you in?”

  “Freshman.” Brandon did his best not to cringe.

  “And you’ve never played football in your life?”

  “Nope. This will be my first time. Thought it might be fun.”

  “Dude. You’re brave, I’ll give you that.” Logan laughed as he sized Brandon up. “You’re pretty built for a freshman, so you might have a chance.”

  “I’ll be quarterback by next year.” Brandon grinned playfully.

  “Get the fuck out!” Logan gave him a playful punch to the shoulder and laughed.

  “Oh, I can do it.” Brandon lifted his chin boastfully.

  “Cocky little freshman, aren’t ya?” Logan folded his arms and looked down at him.

  Brandon’s felt a tingling all over his body and smoothly answered. “I have my moments.”

  You’re flirting with him! Stop it, Brandon! You’re making a fool out of yourself. His mind screamed.

  “I like you, freshman. Come on. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.” Logan motioned for Brandon to follow.

  Brandon’s sweat glands went into overdrive as he followed Logan towards the dreaded locker room. The locker room, depending upon how you looked at it, was either a gay teenage boy’s ultimate fantasy or worst nightmare. Brandon’s own memories of the P.E. locker room were more nightmare than fantasy. In his small school, the seventh through twelfth-grade boys were thrown together in the same P.E. classes. That meant there were boys who hadn’t even started puberty to almost grown
men all together in one steamy little water closet. Brandon’s modus operandi was to always face the lockers when changing, never remove his underwear, change into his shirt and shorts as quickly as humanly possible, and get the hell out. Showering with the other guys was certainly out of the question.

  As soon as Brandon and Logan were through the door, Brandon was taken aback when Logan slung his arm over his shoulders to introduce him.

  “Hey, guys! This is Channing. He’s the newest freshman who’s trying out.”

  “Hey!” A bunch of the guys yelled in greeting to Brandon.

  Brandon looked around at the smorgasbord of hot guys in various stages of undress. Oh God, not again, Brandon frowned as he felt his once deflating erection start to come back to life. Fuck! This is annoying! He cursed himself. As a middle-aged man, poorly timed erections were certainly never a problem. In fact, sometimes, he had to take a certain pill to make it happen. As a young teenager, the slightest rub of his jeans or a random dirty thought, and he was at full attention. As his eyes wandered around the room, he found himself staring at various body parts. What is wrong with me? His mind screamed again. I shouldn’t be looking at teenagers this way!

  The morality battle started once again. Ever since his regression, Brandon had felt his way of thinking changing. It was very subtle at first, but now he knew something was different. It was if his body was forcing his brain to rewire itself into that of a teenager, including the types of guys he found attractive. Which was now guys his own age or slightly older. Dead kittens, saggy breasts, he repeated in his head as he tried to gain control of his body. His concentration was interrupted when he saw his son coming towards him. Cam did not look happy. Oh, fuck. Brandon cursed.

  “Hey, man.” Logan removed his arm from Brandon’s shoulders to greet Cam. “Freshman here says he’s going to take your position as quarterback.”

  Brandon looked up at his son with a nervous grin. Seeing Cam for the first time up close from his young body was best described as intimidating. Cam was a big guy at around six-two and two-hundred and thirty pounds of lean muscle. In adult form, Brandon was only a few inches shorter and close to the weight of his son. In contrast, as a five-five one-hundred and forty-pound teenager, he felt tiny. The top of his head came to just above his son’s shoulders.

  “I’d like to see him try.” Cameron huffed and glanced at Brandon, then back to Logan, completely ignoring Brandon.

  Brandon frowned as the image of Garrett Kelton calling him a ‘twerp’ ran through his mind.

  “I need you to keep Mitch off my back during practice.” Cam pressed his finger against Logan’s chest.

  “Sure, man.” Logan’s playful demeanor changed completely.

  Cam turned and walked away, leaving Brandon feeling like he was a little insignificant nothing. Logan slung his arm around Brandon’s shoulders again and looked down at him.

  “Don’t take that personally, dude. Cam’s a good guy, he’s just been going through a lot of shit.” He squeezed Brandon’s shoulder before letting his arm fall away.

  “What sort of shit?” Brandon played dumb, hoping he might get more information about Cam’s feelings in regards to his ‘death.’

  Logan sat down on the bench and proceeded to empty his gym bag. “His dad killed himself.” He said as quietly as possible as Brandon joined him on the bench.

  “Oh, man. That sucks.” Brandon struggled to maintain his composure.

  No matter how many times he’d heard it said, it still got to him.

  “Yeah. He’s taking it hard.”

  Brandon’s spirits lifted for an ironic, morbid moment. “He is? He certainly didn’t act like it at lunch. I mean…I saw him at lunch, and he seemed okay.”

  “Yeah. Cam keeps things hidden. I told him he needs to see a shrink, but he won’t listen to me. His mom isn’t any help. All she cares about is her fucking boy toy.” Logan pulled off his shoes.

  “What a bitch.” Cam’s relief turned to anger as he pulled his shirt off.

  “I think so, but she’s got Cam so brainwashed he thinks she’s all that.” Logan yanked his shirt off as well. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Just keep all this to yourself, okay?”

  “Sure, man. No problem.” Brandon eyed the hair on Logan’s chest and looked down at his own hairless torso, which made him feel even more like just a kid.

  Without warning, Logan put his hand on Brandon’s chest. “Damn, freshman, you’ve been pumping some serious iron.”

  Logan patted Brandon’s pecs, causing Brandon to gasp.

  “Um…yeah…I work out.” He looked down at his chest, then back at Logan, whose eyes were locked on his pecs.

  “Cool, dude.” Logan pulled off his shoes, then laughed. “Keep that up, and you might not get crushed.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Brandon groaned.

  “Kidding, dude.” Logan stood up to finish changing into his gear.

  “Burkhart!” The coach studied his clipboard.

  Brandon sat at the end of the bench along with the other freshmen players. He nervously wrung his hands in anticipation. Cam’s head popped out from further down the bench, his eyebrows rising in recognition of the name. Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes landing on Brandon with a laser-focus.

  “Yes, coach?” Brandon stood up as everyone trained their eyes on him, sizing him up.

  “Let’s see if you’re any good.” The coach looked at Cam. “Daniels, throw him some passes.”

  “Yes, coach.” Cam stood up.

  Brandon’s palms, pits, and feet were practically leaking. This was it. Either he was going to pass this test, or he was going to make the biggest fool out of himself since third grade baseball tryouts when he accidentally flung the bat at the pitcher the first time he ever tried to hit a ball. The entire team laughed at him, including his father. It was the last time he attempted a team sport.

  Cam grabbed a football and ran out onto the field. Brandon scanned the field and guessed he should run towards the goalposts. Getting in position about thirty yards down the field from Cam, he turned towards him. Cam nodded once to see if Brandon was ready as he pulled his arm back. Brandon returned the nod. Please let me catch this, please let me catch this, Brandon prayed as he focused his eye on the ball.

  Cam pulled his arm back and threw the ball like a pro. It flew through the air like a missile towards its intended target. Brandon did not take his eyes from the ball as he ran to intercept it. He jumped in the air and felt his hands lock around the rough surface of the ball, then brought it safely to his chest. I did it! His mind screamed.

  “Nice catch, Burkhart!” Yelled the coach.

  Brandon beamed as he threw the ball back to Cam.

  Cam stood back and threw the ball higher this time. Brandon watched it carefully, ran towards it, jumped, and caught it once again. All the practice with Tommy was paying off. Brandon strutted a little as he prepared himself for the next throw. And Tommy said this was hard, he smirked.

  “Way to go, freshman!” Logan yelled from the bench.

  The sound of Logan’s voice distracted Brandon for a moment causing him to lose concentration. This time when Cam threw the ball, it hit his arms and bounced to the ground. He tried to shake it off as he picked up the ball, looked up, and tried to read Cam’s face, but his son remained emotionless. He then flicked his eyes towards Logan, who nodded and gave him the okay sign, making him more determined to catch the next one.

  “Switch positions.” The coach yelled, wanting to test Brandon’s throwing skills.

  Brandon held the ball in his hand as he tried to remember how Tommy taught him to throw: stretch, grip, position your body, hold the ball near the ear, wind back and throw. He followed each step and pulled back. With all the strength he could muster, he let go of the ball. It sailed gracefully through the air.

  Cam jumped and caught it with ease.

  “Good throw!” Logan yelled, cupping his hands on either side of his mouth.

  Brandon smiled at him
.

  The second time, Cam moved further down the field. It was at least a fifty-yard pass. Brandon repeated instructions in his head once again as he aimed and fired the ball. Cam ran towards it, but the ball fell several yards short of its intended target. Brandon frowned. He knew he would have easily made the distance if he had his strength before the regression. Since the change, he felt weaker, his body was still several years away from maturity. Coach signaled for them to come in.

  As Brandon passed him, the coach looked up from his clipboard. “Not bad, Burkhart.”

  Brandon sat back down with a feeling of satisfaction. He had proven to himself that he could play sports and not suck at it. He looked three benches down at his son and Logan. Logan turned his head towards him with a big smile, giving him another thumbs up.

  Brandon didn’t get much playing time the rest of practice as the coach had him running drills with the other bench warmers. Sweaty and exhausted, he grabbed a towel and walked to the water cooler. As he took his first sip of water, he peered over his cup and spotted Cam coming towards him. He braced himself for the first face to face conversation with his son since his ‘death.’ Cam stopped a few feet in front of him, his face showing no emotion. He glared, making Brandon’s knees feel shaky.

  “Burkhart? Are you related to a Tommy Burkhart?” Cam folded his arms over his chest.

  Brandon swallowed. “He’s my Uncle.” Brandon threw his empty cup into the trash can. “I’m living with him and Aunt Kathy now.”

  About that time, Logan walked up and placed his hand on Cam’s shoulder. “Now you’re paying attention to the freshman since you know he’s legit.” He teased.

  “No. I just found out he’s my Dad’s best friend’s nephew.” Cam said, finally seeming to relax.

  “Dude. You totally dissed him earlier.” Logan said.

  Cam gave Brandon an apologetic look. “Yeah, man. Sorry about being an ass earlier. Just hasn’t been a good day.”