Tales from Foster High

by John Goode

  Seeing Kyle ride in my car was like watching a kid opening a present at Christmas.

  My other friends all have cars and are all pretty blasé about them. They pretend like it’s no big deal having a shiny, new car, but inside, we all know that those four wheels are one of the most important things in our world.

  Clothes, cars, reputations: these were the only currency that was accepted at Foster High by those who mattered. To be honest, I had gotten bored with my car. It was more a chain around my neck than an actual object I took pride in because of the way my dad had forced it on me. He had gotten me the car from his dealership, making a huge deal that his son was driving a top-of-the-line model, and never took a break from reminding me about it every chance he could. What had started out as an awesome gift had degenerated into just another weapon of mass misery my parents used to try to one-up the other in the disaster they called a marriage.

  I had forgotten what it was like not to have a car, and though it’s a crappy thing to say, there’s no way a guy like Kyle could afford a car like mine. Hell, the truth was I couldn’t afford a car like mine, either. I would have been happy with some old muscle-car junker, something I could spend the summer fixing up. However, my dad, as always, took things to the nth degree and insisted that no son of his was going to drive anything less than a new Mustang around town. God forbid anyone know we weren't rich.

  To my family, clothes, cars, and reputation were the only things that counted as well.

  The Mustang was something I used to get out of the house and go to school. But looking at the car through Kyle’s eyes made it so much more all of a sudden.

  “This is awesome,” he said over the music—and wind, since I had put the top down.

  I had to smile back as I reached over and took his hand. “Yeah, it is,” I agreed, not talking about the car at all.

  I slowed as we neared the student parking lot, and I turned the music down. “Last chance. Everyone loves a cut day.”

  I saw him bite his bottom lip, and I knew I was wearing him down.

  “It’s a Friday. They aren’t going to do anything anyways,” I said, not that I actually knew what the fuck happened in class on any day. At least I sounded good. “We could head out to the lake, grab some sun, eat lunch—just the two of us.”

  “What about when they call my mom?” he asked, sounding like he was talking about what if Darth Vader came and asked if they had found the Death Star plans.

  “Who cares? Tell her it was a mistake… that you were there.” Kyle looked like he was leaning back toward school. “Come on!” I pleaded. “I just wanna spend time with you today. I’m not ready for everyone else.”

  I saw him sigh and knew he wasn’t ready for everyone else, either. “Okay, cut day it is.”

  I felt bad that I hadn’t told him the real reason I wanted to skip, but I had told him enough to make me not feel like a complete piece of shit. His hand snaked under mine as we drove off, and I put my worried thoughts behind me. I had a whole weekend to figure out how to deal. Monday was a million years away.

  Lake Foster was about twenty minutes outside of town. It was about the only thing we had as a place to go on the weekend.

  Sorry, was the only thing the group of people previously known as we had as a place to go on the weekend.

  A night of entertainment was pretty much heading out and drinking all night, but when you grew up in Foster, it was the only something we knew. Our town was hours away from any city worth a damn, so if you wanted to go somewhere on the weekend, you didn’t have a lot of choices. We could go to the Vine, which was our crappy theater that played two ancient movies back to back. People only went so they could make out in the back row or sneak a couple of bottles of schnapps in and get wasted while everyone laughed at the screen. Or we could head over to the bowling alley, which was akin to hanging out in a doctor’s office, it held so much joy. Only thing that was even close to fun was midnight bowling, when they turned on these black lights, and you bowled with glowing balls. Honestly it was only fun when you were drunk, which seemed to be the only way Foster was manageable. Or you could go to the lake and get wasted in peace without any adults around waiting to narc on you.

  I have spent more time at the lake than I would choose to admit, but never at the bright and sunny beginning of a November morning. I had left it at that time, but showing up this early was a first. The lake was deserted when it wasn’t summer or the weekend. I saw a few boats out there with retired men who spent their afternoon fishing, but besides them we were alone. I parked next to the campsite we usually hung out at on weekends. There was a bench under a tree, a grill, and a nice little stretch of land that connected to the lake. It was prime real estate for Foster Lake, and we had it all to ourselves.

  I had no idea what to do at the lake at eight thirty in the morning.

  We sat and watched the lake in silence. I cursed myself for thinking that there would be anything to do out here so early on a week day. I should have checked to see if my mom had left for her yoga class and taken Kyle to my place. Hell, I could have taken him to Nancy’s, the diner across from the Vine. We could at least have had breakfast. I was running away from my problems again, which was pretty much how I lived my entire life, and now I was dragging someone along with me.

  I can say, with no joy or ego whatsoever, that I’ve never once stood up to a problem. I’ve smiled my way out of them, lied my way past them, and once or twice, bullied my way over them, but never once looked one directly in its eye. I hated that about myself. I never solved anything; I just pushed it aside until either it blew up in my face or didn’t matter anymore. I’d never broken up with a girl. I just stopped calling them until they got the hint. I never told someone I didn’t like them anymore. I just spent time with someone else until they went away. And then there was Kelly.

  I couldn’t do this to Kyle.

  I opened my mouth to tell him this was a mistake and we should go back to school, but before I could say anything, he turned to me and said, “This is so awesome! I’ve never been out here before.”

  I saw the awe and the wonder in his eyes and was struck dumb by the intensity of his emotions. I assumed he meant in the day, but I realized mutely that he’d never been out here before, at all. He just wasn’t popular enough to have been invited out here, so this was a whole new thing to him. I remembered the first time I came out with a few of the older players and how much I had been blown away I was actually at the lake with them.

  “Thank you,” he said, trying to move over closer. The center console stood between us.

  “You wanna sit in the back seat?” I asked and saw his head nod so rapidly I was afraid he’d pass out. I shook my head and laughed as he put the top up and climbed into the back seat. Where the bucket seats are prohibitive to snuggling, the back seat seems made for it. I had spent a night or two back there with Jennifer, but for some reason, it seemed a lot more comfortable with Kyle.

  I slipped my jacket off and bundled it up behind me to lean on. I liked the feel of him pressing up against me; he wasn’t as frail or as small as the girls I had been with. There was a weight to him, a solidness that I had to admit was turning me on. He smelled like a guy—his shampoo, his cologne, even his deodorant all mixed together and reminded me beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was in the back seat with another male.

  And I found that erotic in a big, bad way.

  I kicked my sneakers off and pulled him into my arms. “Hey there,” I said, grinning.

  “Hey,” he answered, a little breathless.

  I leaned down to kiss him. I liked the way he kissed me back instead of just taking it. Most of the girls I had dated were a little on the passive side. They knew my reputation: I was the kind of guy that went after what he wanted. Not many tried to stop me, since they wanted the same thing.

  Kyle was different. He wasn’t just there because he wanted to date the star second baseman or wanted to wear my class ring. He was here because he liked the real
me, and he wanted to be with that guy. I wasn’t sure who that guy was, but Kyle seemed to like him a lot. I have no idea how someone this special had been ignored for so long, but the more time I spent with him, I liked him more and more.

  Safe on the edge of Lake Foster, I didn’t have to worry about everyone else.

  I buried those thoughts as I cupped the back of his head and kissed him harder. I wasn’t here to think about what I was running from. I was here to enjoy what I thought I was running toward.

  I felt him react. I wasn’t sure he had a lot of experience being intimate with anyone, but I can tell you, the boy had skills. What he may have lacked in experience, he more than compensated for with passion. It was different being with someone so expressive, who didn’t have a poker face when it came to what they liked and how much they liked it. Jennifer had known I was cocky and never let me once believe she had liked me as much as I liked her, which was a point I had debated with myself a thousand times. It was always a game with her that made me keep my own cards close to my chest so I wasn’t the one with my eyeballs hanging out of my skull while my tongue unrolled like a carpet. At first it was a challenge to score with the hottest girl in town, but what started as dating became more like combat the way she dangled affection in front of me like the cheese at the end of a maze. I had no choice but to fight back, and what started as a hot romance became a cold war.

  Or in other words, we were just like my parents.

  Kyle liked me and didn’t care who knew.

  He was half kneeling against me, pinned in the corner as he kissed me passionately, and it was hotter than anything else I’d experienced. My hands went under his T-shirt, and I couldn’t believe how small he was. He looked like a beanpole, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was all coiled muscle and leanness that drove me nuts. I have always been a big guy, and though I lift and run every day, I had always secretly wanted to be built like Kyle. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw myself a few bad years from becoming my dad, and that image made me work out even harder. Kyle, though, with just a couple of weeks in the gym, would be cut as hell and clueless about how cute he was.

  His blond bangs hid his eyes, which was a shame because the inner sparkle of their blueness was alluring. He looked like a skater, all elbows and knees, and there wasn’t a way that he didn't turn me on. I felt him giggle under my touch, and he pulled back slightly. “Tickles,” he whispered.

  “Oh really?” I asked, smiling evilly.

  “Brad, don’t!” he begged as I began to tickle him in earnest. “Oh please stop!”

  His laughter was like music, so pure, so real that it was infectious. No one I knew laughed like him. The people I hung out with would be caught dead before they made this much noise over anything. He spasmed in my grasp as, attacking him, I wrestled his shirt over his head. I threw it in the front seat at the same time I pulled him against me midlaugh. He gasped when I nibbled on his neck. His skin was salty as I kissed and tongued my way to his nape. I could feel him shiver as I continued to lightly bite him, moving to his right nipple. His hands grabbed the sides of my head as I licked the nipple, feeling it harden under my ministrations. They were small and pert. For some reason, knowing they were a live wire to his sex drive turned me on.

  “Brad!” he exclaimed under his breath as his hands dug into my hair. I moved to his other nipple and brought it to the same state of excitement instantly. He seemed shocked by the sensations he was feeling. I knew, then, he was a virgin. I don’t know how, but I just knew this was the farthest he’d ever gone.

  “You like that?” I asked with a wide grin. His arousal only added to my own titillation as I got turned on turning him on. He nodded, unable to form words.

  “Oh Jesus,” he moaned as he pressed himself against my hand.

  I moved my other hand around and unbuckled his belt. He wore jeans that were easily three sizes too big for him. I remembered when I had talked to him in the hall, and he had gotten hard. He had thought he was being slick covering it with his folder, but honestly, there was nothing short of hiding behind a brick wall that could conceal that.

  I had fooled around with exactly two guys before Kyle, and neither time was it serious.

  The first was Cody Peller, a guy on my football team when I was thirteen. We had won the last game of our season and had stuffed ourselves celebrating at Panky’s Pizza before crashing at my house. My mom was already unconscious for the night, and my dad was locked in his den with orders for us to shut up or else. Cody and I had sat on my bed and watched A Cinderella Story, since both of us had claimed a huge crush on Hillary Duff. I had never told him that even though I thought Hillary was cute, my eyes had always been on Chad Michael Murray. Instead, we both acted like the little horn dogs we were, bragging about what little we’d done with girls and boasting about what we’d do if we actually got our hands on one. We both got excited while we watched the movie, and once the lights were out, we got a little handsy.

  We never talked about it again, but I was terrified Cody would tell people what we’d done. I kind of ignored him whenever I saw him again, and he treated me the same way, which was fine with me. I tried to put it out of my mind, but there was no denying I had liked what we’d done.

  That summer my dad sent me to football camp. He was determined that I was going play football when I got to high school—just like him. The fact that I liked baseball more didn’t mean a damn thing.

  Kelly and I were already friends. I had gravitated toward him after Cody and I had our falling out. He seemed more than happy to be my friend, so much so that when we got to camp, I began wondering if he was like me or not.

  By the second week, we were inseparable. He was really expressive, like a dog that just loved to jump up on you and lick your face repeatedly. Football camp was a lot like any other type of camp: a ton of useless activities during the day to keep us occupied, a couple of crappy meals, and then as the sun went down, we were told to fend for ourselves until lights out was called. Guys began to pull apart into packs, different cliques of people that seemed to hit it off in a quasi-sexual kind of way. You’d be surprised how much of professional sports is really just homosexual energy channeled into alternate means of activity. Guys I played ball with were very close. We had no problems putting our hands on each other and thought that roughhousing while naked was funny.

  During that summer I realized, though, there was a line for me that others didn’t seem to approach. I wasn’t just wrestling with guys to prove I was top dog and to put them in their place. I knew there was a sexual edge to what I was doing. I danced around that fact for years to come.

  No one ever guessed a thing. I was the type of guy other guys liked being around. I was easy on the eyes and cocky enough to pull it off. They seemed to like following me for some reason. I was usually made team leader or squad officer or whatever we were doing. Coaches loved to put me in charge, and no one else seemed to mind. The guys I kept around me were people that weren’t bright enough to be able to see through my bullshit and catch me. I’d love to say that it was an instinctual thing, that I wasn’t smart enough to do it on purpose, but even I’m not that dumb. People like Kelly were too enamored with just being friends with the Popular Guy that they would never once look twice at me or question a word I said.

  My closest friends were like attack dogs, a pack of loyal guys who never once asked why I told them to do anything.

  I was surrounded by people, but I was always alone as hell. I didn’t know what was going through my mind, but I knew I wasn’t like them. It felt like everyone around me was two-dimensional, and I was the only person who had that extra something that let me see through the bullshit around me. It wasn’t that I was smarter or older than anyone else; it was more like I spent so much time worrying about real things—like if I liked guys or not—that smaller things like if I was good-looking or if girls would go out with me seemed lame in comparison. So that summer with Kelly, I was the closest I had ever gotten to be
ing me than I’d ever been before or since.

  That was, of course, until Kyle.

  When we were alone, Kelly gushed on me—it was never overtly sexual because I don’t think he had a name for it either. He just genuinely liked me and had no words to explain why. But I did. I could see the same confused hunger in his eyes that I had seen in my mirror more than once. I wish I could say I was really attracted to Kelly. I mean he was a good-looking guy with a decent body. Truth was, though, that we were both almost fourteen in the middle of that awkward phase. Our hormones were raging like magma moving under the surface. I would have dry humped a chair if I thought it would get me off. Kelly was just convenient and not completely gross, so I decided on him.

  I still feel guilty as hell about that.

  Though we had been handed out cabin assignments, the coaches had no idea who we were outside of pads and jerseys, so we had switched to be with our friends early on. All the coaches and counselors cared about was that they saw a body in a bed. The exact identity of the body was very much unimportant. At first Kelly and I shared a cabin with two other guys, but as the camp went on, one sprained his ankle and had to go home, and the other ended up moving out and bunking in one of the larger cabins with six beds. No one cared about the two of us in our cabin alone. If anything, as soon as dinner was over, our cabin became the cabin to be. Everyone would come over. We’d play music, arm wrestle, sometimes play cards, though none of us really knew the rules. We just goofed off until the counselors came pounding on the door saying everyone had to be back in their cabins in bed.