Page 5 of Something Like Summer
“Who?” Ben startedunpacking his lunch from the brown paper bag, wondering why thename sounded familiar.
“The fine black brotherfrom driver’s ed?” Allison prompted. “He’s in my home ecclass.”
Ben snorted and spit thejuice box straw from his mouth. “Are you telling me because youthink he might be gay?”
“No!” Allison protested.“There’s always straight guys on the prowl in home ec. Lord knowsthat’s the only reason I’m taking it.Anyway, the nutty old teacher has ussitting alphabetically, and by some miracle he’s the only ‘A’ andI’m the only ‘C’ with no ‘B’s’ in the middle.”
“See? It’s good that Irefused to take that class.”
“You are forgiven,”Allison said gracefully. “So how goes it with your ‘T?’”
“Technically, it would be‘W’ if we are going by last names,” Ben corrected. He had long agoscoped out Tim’s mailbox and discovered that his family name wasWyman, although thus far he had resisted scrawlingBen Wymanon any of hisnotebooks. “Unfortunately it isn’t going anywhere. I was hoping youhad seen him.”
“Nope,” Allison said,swapping her Cheetos for Ben’s sour cream Pringles without havingto ask. “Maybe he goes to a private school orsomething.”
“Maybe,” Ben said,glancing around the cafeteria. There were three different lunchbreaks, so there was a fair chance Tim wouldn’t share one with themanyway. Ben was glad that he and Allison still shared a lunchperiod for the third year in a row. He decided to turn his fullattention to her and put the whole matter out of his mind as muchas he could. Like so many other things in life, maybe what hewanted wouldn’t come to pass if he thought too much aboutit.
* * * * *
Fourth-period was math andstarted out promising. There was an attractive guy in class namedCraig, who looked vaguely like Zack Morris if Ben squinched hiseyes up just right. Ben hadn’t talked to Craig since junior high,after spending the night at his house.
What had come between themwas a fairly common story in Ben’s sordid history. It all began inthe seventh grade, when a routine sleepover at a friend’s house wastransformed by a pilfered porno. Watching the video together led totrading hand jobs. This act was repeated during more sleepoversuntil the time his friend claimed to be too tired to mess aroundand insisted that they go to sleep instead. This confused Benuntil, after some less-than-casual tossing and turning, it becameobvious that something was expected from him. Ben happily went downon his friend that night, for the first of many times, although thefavor was never returned.
Eventually, word of Ben’snoble deed began to spread around the school, and guys he barelyknew were inviting him to stay over. The same routine was playedout over and over again, with his hosts usually pretending to beasleep. On their backs. With their pants down. It was, needless tosay, a very exciting time in his life. The demand for his servicescame to a screeching halt when he decided to come out of the closethalfway through the school year. Suddenly none of the boys,including the friend he first started experimenting with, wantedanything to do with him. Craig was one of the last guys he hadmessed around with before going public, and they hadn’t spokensince.
Until today that is.Instead of refusing to make contact, Craig greeted him warmly andeven chose a seat next to his. Hope began to burn in Ben’s chestthat Craig had come to terms with his own sexuality, which turnedout to be true but not in the way he expected. Craig soon beganranting about the girlfriend he found over the summer. Obviouslytheir relationship had confirmed his heterosexuality and made itpossible to deal with the experimental phase that was now behindhim. No doubt getting laid regularly helped with this. Ben wasmildly disappointed, but happy to have a friend to make anotherwise boring class more entertaining.
Fifth-period choir meantnot only being with Allison again, but being surrounded by peoplehe had known for years. Choir was made up of either weird artistictypes or religious sorts who also sang in church. Despite the twodifferent backgrounds, everyone got along and the atmosphere wasalways relaxed.
Their teacher, Mrs.Hammond, had enjoyed minor success on stage earlier in her life andalso taught drama. She took singing and acting very seriously, butwas also a very disorganized person who rarely bothered to directthe class. Today she seemed as reluctant to start the school yearas her students and was fine with letting the hour pass without herinterference. Ben and Allison spent this time catching up witheveryone they hadn’t seen since spring and exchanging juicy bits ofgossip that had occurred over the summer.
The final class of the daywas science. Ben walked to it slowly, feeling like Charlie from theWilly Wonka movie. This was the last possible chance to have aclass with Tim, his last shot at a golden ticket and the amazingbehind-the-scenes factory tour that came with it. In his mind hewas pulling back that candy bar wrapper as slowly and carefully ashe would like to undress Tim. He stepped into the door just as thebell rang and stood there, waiting for his dreams to becomereality.
“Hello?” complainedsomeone who had watched way too many valley girl movies beforepushing past him. “I swear!”
That left one desk for Ben.He took his seat, still looking around for any hint of silver eyesand dark hair. Nothing. Nada.
Ah, well. At least he stillhad the chocolate to enjoy. The teacher of this class, Ms. Hughes,was the same he had last year. She was one of those rare teacherswho were considered cool by her students. Some teachers tried toohard by putting up posters of the latest music bands and ineptlyinterjecting slang into their lectures. Ms. Hughes wasn’t likethat. She was just herself--a middle-aged spinster who had apassion for science and managed to transfer her enthusiasm to thoseshe was teaching, usually through innovative and fun experiments.The topic of the day was pheromones, which had most of the classlaughing, but not Ben, whose thoughts were on the scent of sweat onthe evening air as Tim ran to him.
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Chapter 3
After suffering a week of plasticgreen seats and hyperactive freshmen, Ben decided to give up on thebus. The mechanics were holding Allison’s car hostage for anotherten days while parts were ordered, and Ben couldn’t take thehumiliation of being the only junior travelling by bus anymore. Hewas locking his bike up when Allison came running over from whereher father had dropped her off.
“I found him!” shedeclared.
“Who?” Ben said ascasually as possible, knowing damn well who she meant.
“Johnny Depp,” Allisonretorted. “Who do you think I mean? I tried calling you last nightbut it just rang and rang.”
Ben made a mental note toverbally abuse his sister for ignoring call waiting. “So where ishe?”
“Tied up in my basementand waiting for you,” Allison said, licking her lips indecently.“You wish. I just saw him in passing after sixth period yesterday,so at least we know that he goes to this school.”
Allison spotting Tim musthave broken the curse, because Ben saw him that very day. To befair, the renewed hope inspired Ben to take long detours downdifferent hallways, but the strategy paid off. On the way to lunchhe saw Tim leaning against a wall, talking to two otherstudents.
Unfortunately they were twoof the biggest assholes in school. Bryce Hunter was a huge jock whohad been the size of an ox for as long as Ben could remember. He’dalways looked like he was twenty-five, even in junior high. Next tohim was Darryl Briscott, who was short and bordering on fat, butcame from a very rich family, and that guaranteed hispopularity.
