Drummer Boys

Drummer Boys By Kevin Carson

Hi, I'm Kevin and this story is about my relationship with my more-than-a-friend and, well, much, much more-than-a-jack-off buddy. Yes, it includes gay teen sex stuff. Lots of it! It's based on true experiences but some of the names and places have been changed for privacy. Hey, if this is illegal where you're at or if you're too young to be reading this, then you better not. Getting in trouble isn't cool. All rights reserved. No reproductions permitted without prior permission from me, Kevin. I'm the only one. ©2009.

I would like to express my sincere thanks and heartfelt gratitude to everyone who has written to me about this story. I really appreciate your comments, feedback and questions. My email is: kc.drummerboy@yahoo.com.

Sincerely, -kevin.

Part 46.

When I say I fell asleep, I really mean it. I was dead to the world, right there on the couch in the Graham's family room. For days, everyone had been trying to tell me I was exhausted, but I just didn't want to admit it. Deep down, though, I knew they were right. I kept denying it, foolishly thinking that "I'll feel better tomorrow." Haha... "Denial." What a joke.

I really needed the sleep, just like everyone said. I don't know why I fight it so much. Sometimes, I have a hard time facing reality, even when it hits me in the face. But yeah, I was knocked out, like unconscious or something, like I was on an anesthetic. I sure hope I wasn't talking in my sleep! And, I don't even remember dreaming about Mark, but I guess I was because there was plenty of drool on my lips and cheek when I woke up. And speaking of that, I did wake up sometime during the night and went to the bathroom, the one that's between their kitchen and family room. Damn, I sure hope no one heard me!

After I pissed, I staggered upstairs into Mark's room and crawled into bed with him, but he didn't budge. So I curled up next to him and drifted back off to sleep again in a matter of seconds. It's a rare occasion when Mark and I are in the same bed and don't fool around!

And in the morning, we both started to wake up at the same time. Oh, the sounds and smells of waking up! Like morning breath! And the "stinky teenage boy smell" Mrs. Graham always talks about, especially when she says, "Boys just can't leave their penises alone, can they? They're always touching them." I overheard her saying that to Mrs. Eckert once, but she doesn't know I was listening. Haha, but I was!

Then, there's Mark scratching himself, like he always does in the morning. Fingernails grazing bare skin! We both stretched and yawned several times, rolled over, smiled, and touched each other teasingly. No body part was excluded in the touching, by the way! We lay side by side, staring at the ceiling, boxers somewhat disarranged, and our legs partly covered by the sheet. "Dude, I gotta get up!" Mark exclaimed. "I gotta piss like a racehorse!" He bolted for the bathroom.

"Wait a minute!" I whisper-shouted. "I was gonna help you scratch your... whatever-itches!"

Mark flashed his usual big toothy grin and reminded me, "Dude, I said... I gotta piss! When I get back you can gladly scratch my balls!"

"That's a deal, mister!!"

We were both pretty well-rested. I know for sure that I was, because for once, I did in fact get more than a few hours of sleep. When we finally got up for real, the house was quiet. He yelled for his mom and Lisa, but no one answered, and the cars were gone. "Haha, I think we're alone now!"

Tuesday was the day to do nothing but chill, so we just hung out most of the morning. And, since nobody was home at the Graham household, except for Mark and me, we sat around in our underwear for a while. Well, OK, we didn't just "sit around" in our underwear... we eventually took everything off. And, well, we fooled around a little, too. OK, OK!! Not a little... a LOT!! And that was BEFORE lunch! Haha, our little guilty pleasure!

I seriously wanted to make Mark squirm and moan and beg and sweat, so I did. And I couldn't wait to make him cum. I did that, too!! I took control for a change, and started kissing and licking my guy from top to bottom. And when I say bottom, I mean BOTTOM!!! I softly bit his sweet nipples, swirling my tongue around each one, then licked my way down his abs to his belly button. I got that nice and wet, too! Soon I was face to face with his delicious rock-hard boner, which kept rubbing against my cheeks and neck. Mark was leaking a healthy dose of precum, too, so that was getting all over me as well. Lovin' it!!!!

I lightly ran my fingertips through his pubes, all the while continuing to sniff as I licked, kissed and nibbled. I teased his balls with my tongue and took each one of them in my mouth individually. I had to be careful not to hurt him. It's funny... he laid there and let me do anything I wanted to him. And I didn't mind one bit. I knew it would be my turn soon. I waited as long as I could, but I couldn't resist having his big slippery, throbbing prong down my throat. We reversed positions so that I was lying on my back and he knelt over me, gently forcing his hard dick past my lips. I was semi-conscious, I swear, but I do remember him reaching behind to "check out" my pulsing hard meat as well.

"Mmmm! Sweetie!!! I think I'm wanting that!!"

And somewhere during all of this I managed to lick the middle finger on my left hand stuck it in Mark's waiting pink hole as far as I could. Every chance I got I worked my finger in and out. The slipperier the better! I swear, my finger goes in his ass like it's a bowling ball. And it felt sooooo warm! Haha, makes me tingle just thinking about it.

Again we reversed positions, all the while my middle finger was still deep in his asshole. This time we were on the home-stretch, as I knelt between his spread-apart legs. I furiously bobbed up and down on his dripping cock, concentrating on the head with my lips and tongue, and jacking him off at the same time using my thumb and index finger around the lower part of his rod. I'd slow-up, then start again, and soon his stomach muscles began to tighten. We both knew it was time. He shouted, "Oh God I'm gonna cum!! Oh Oh Oh OHHHHH!!!!!! OHHHHH!!!! FUCK!!!!" His butthole squeezed my finger with each creamy blast. His semen was mixed with my spit, and I let some of it drip out of my mouth, but I swallowed the rest. Poor guy. The head of his dick was so sensitive, he begged me to stop sucking on it and rubbing it. I will tell you, I did not exactly honor his request! But, eventually, I took one long last lick and slowly pulled my finger out of his hot hole.

After only a few minutes of rest, we were at it again. My turn!! Mark momentarily went soft, but got hard again soon and he put his face on my stomach and watched me stroke my own hard pole. He played with my balls as I jacked myself, then put my legs up to my chest so he could work on my ass. He finger-fucked me and continued to play with my balls, sometimes kissing them. He also massaged the area between my asshole and nut sac, and he really got excited when that area started to throb and pulse when I shot my wad.

"My God, Kev!" he giggled. "You got it on my chin and everywhere!"

I was totally out of breath. "It's all your fault!"

Actually, we both did our share of squirming and twisting and screaming, all leading to those few seconds of total erotic madness. And we laughed at ourselves, drenched with sweat... and cum!

Mark and I kind-of took our time pulling ourselves together after our Tuesday morning romp! We sorta worked up an appetite, so we finally had something to eat, then showered and got dressed. We had enough of being in the house, since it was such a nice day and all, so we decided to head out for a while, walking. Who knew we'd be we'd be heading into a week full of surprises and adventures. And answers.

First, we went to King Kullen so Mark could pick up his paycheck. We also bought candy and sodas, as if we needed that kind of shit. Bring on the sugar-high!! This old hag named Hilda, who's in charge of customer service, asked Mark if he could work later that afternoon, like from 4 to 7pm.

"Alright, Hilda. If you really need me, I will."

We sipped our Mountain Dews as we walked out of King Kullen, and I mentioned to Mark that I thought that Hilda woman seems like she's mean. "Are you afraid of her?" I asked.

"Nah... she's pretty cool once you get used to her.

"Yeah, but that big round silvery-purple hairdo of hers... it looks like a giant Easter egg on top of her head. She'd really score points with the Easter bunny." I joked.

"Umm, sweetie... her last name is Katzenmeyer. I don't think she does Easter."

"Oops! Sorry!" I felt like a dumbass, and our giggling continued as we walked toward the high school. Until my phone buzzed. It was my grandfather.

"Got a second, Kevin?"

"Yeah, sure Grandpa. What's up? Is everything OK?" I was curious as to why he was home so early on a Tuesday afternoon.

"Your grandmother wants the kitchen painted, so I'm taking the rest of the week off. I was wondering if you might have a little time later this afternoon to stop by. I need some help moving a few things around."

"No problem, Grandpa. Mark and I are on our way to the high school, and then I'll be over after that, like around 3:30-ish... is that OK?"

"Perfect. I'll see you then, son."

That'll work out great since I feel I owe my grandfather big-time for getting me those Mets tickets. If I can help him out with something, I'm all over it. And besides, Mark will be working, so I knew I'd have a little time to kill.

When we got to the school I noticed Ms. Kirsch's car in the faculty lot. I wasn't sure if Mr. Hartman, the assistant principal, was there, and I didn't want to take any chances running into that crusty old fucker, so I tried to stay under the radar. I knew if I did see that son-of-a-bitch and he started any shit, Ms. Kirsch would have my back. I could count on her to protect me. Although I was in a good mood, I still kept my guard up.

First, we dropped off some forms in the music office that were needed for band, then Mark had to do something in the scheduling office about one of his classes. While he was doing that I waited outside in the hall. Right next to the scheduling office is the athletic office, and in between them are restrooms and a drinking fountain. There weren't many people around, but occasionally a student, parent or teacher would come and go, so I wasn't paying much attention. Still, because of that good night's rest, I was fully alert!!

I was sorta thirsty waiting for Mark, so I got a drink from the fountain, and while my back was turned, I heard an all-too-familiar voice. Believe me, it wasn't Townsend talking to me this time. Not then, anyway. And it certainly was not a voice I wanted to hear... it was that bone-chilling, blood-curdling voice... the one that sends shivers up my spine and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It's the voice that has pushed me past the boundaries of hatred... the voice that made me have to do things I never should have had to do... the voice that forced me to say things I never wanted to say... to tell things I wasn't ready to tell. You know who I mean! It was Emily DeMarco! The bitch who tried to tear my life apart last year, piece by piece.

"Hi Kevin. I thought that was you."

OH. MY. GOD.

I almost choked on my drink of water. I spit it out, stood straight up and turned around, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. While Emily had been out of the picture for most of the summer, somewhere in the back of my mind I guess I knew I'd have to deal with her again, sooner or later. I knew it. But not having her around for a while... well, it was good while it lasted.

I thought I had gotten rid of her at the end of the school year, with Keith's help, of course, or so I thought. But not long after that is when all of the crap with Marcie Lamson happened. One evil bitch seemingly goes away and another one walks into my life, uninvited. Then, the shit with Marcie gets dealt with and I think I'm free and clear, and what happens?? It's Emily again. But I was in for another surprise. Yes, it sounded like Emily, and it definitely was her, but the person speaking sure didn't look like the same Emily!

I looked all around, from side to side. I looked for Mark, but he was nowhere in sight. Fuck. Of course, the very second Emily shows up no one is around. Where the fuck was the occasional student or parent walking by now? If there was going to be a confrontation, I needed a witness, no matter who it was, stranger or not! Just hearing her voice again made me want to throw up. God help me.

Somehow, I quickly got it together. "Emily??" I wondered. "Is that you??? What happened to you???"

I can't believe I said the "what happened to you" part. It was kind-of rude, I guess, but I was totally caught off guard by her appearance. Let me tell you... the person whose voice I just heard was a completely different looking Emily DeMarco. But yes, it was definitely Emily and not another case of mistaken identity this time!

"I know, Kevin... I guess I do look sorta different now."

"Umm... yeah... like, Oh my God!!"

"It's been a long summer." She sorta smiled.

"But... what... happened??" I was so stunned by how different she looked, I forgot all about what a fucking cunt she is, and after my initial semi- rudeness, I actually found myself being somewhat civil to her. I mean, this wasn't anything remotely close to the day last fall when I literally ran into her in the cafeteria. You remember that day. She was such a clumsy-ass, tripping over her own fucking crutches with her god-damned foot in a cast or whatever it was, and she tried like hell to blame it all on me. And old Mr. Hartman believed her. God, what a day. And he continued to believe her lies, waaaay after the first incident. Can I ever get past either of those two people, Emily and Mr. Hartman? Will I ever be able to forgive them?

"First, Kevin, I'm glad I ran into you. I mean, I wasn't out hunting for you, but I thought I saw you and Mark walking in, and well, I guess this is as good a time as any... "

"As good a time as any for what??" I snapped.

"To apologize to you."

"What do you mean... apologize??" I still couldn't believe how her looks had changed. I mean, I was totally stunned... I mean, like, tasered.

"I've done some real soul-searching this summer, and I know I was so unfair to you last year. I've been seeing a therapist to help me deal with things, I guess stuff you don't know about with me. I don't want to go into all of that at the moment, but, I just want to tell you I was wrong, the way I treated you, and I'm sorry. I really mean it."

"You mean, the way you MIS-treated me!" I snarled. "This is some kind of trick, isn't it? You're being all nice and stuff right now, but why?" The initial shock and awe of hearing Emily's voice again momentarily went away, and while trying to process how her looks had changed, I was understandably very skeptical. I just wasn't ready to accept all of this, not so fast, not so soon.

"For one thing, Kevin, I'm here to turn in my forms for cheerleading, so hopefully I can be more social, and make some friends. And I'm trying to feel better about myself. I've lost twenty-two pounds just since the end of school!"

"I can tell... you look great!"

I can't believe I'd just given her a compliment. But she did look great. It was amazing. The weight loss was really noticeable, and she got a new shorter, straighter "do"... no more "Roseanne Roseannadanna" look-alike.

"And I also go to a dermatologist now. I'm getting laser hair removal!" She seemed very proud of that fact.

"OK, Emily, that's like waaay too much information... I don't need to know all the personal details. That's your business." I could tell she was getting some kind of cosmetic something-or-other done because there's no more hairy lip! I gotta admit, Emily looked sorta nice! I NEVER thought I'd say that!!

"I know I can't expect much from you, Kevin. I mean I wouldn't blame you if you turned your back and wouldn't speak to me..."

"Yeah, you know, I am kind-of wondering about this, Emily. I mean, like... if you hadn't just happened to run into me right now, when would have said all of this to me?? I was starting to sound a little pissed-off. "I mean, what were you planning? A surprise attack?? Like, some big performance again in the cafeteria, on the first day of school??"

"No, Kevin, I wasn't going to do anything like that. I have changed, really... I have."

I took a deep breath. I was still wary of her motives. As unsettling as it was to see Emily again – let alone having a real conversation with her – I also found myself wanting to believe her. I sorta realized that, if I was ever gonna move on from all of this shit with her, I might have to accept her apology. Not seeing her or having her torment me over the last couple of months was really just a temporary fix. Granted, Keith took care of a lot the last day of school when he intervened as she and I had that big blow-up. I'm sure he put one hell of a scare in her, but that wasn't the real end of it all.

"I don't know about all of this, Emily. How do I know if I can trust you? And even if... why SHOULD I trust you? All of your lies... how mean you were. You're right... you should expect NOTHING from me!"

I wanted Nora's opinion... I wanted to know what Keith would think... and what Mark would say about all of this. Most of all, I needed Dad to tell me what to do. But I was gonna have to do this on my own since none of them were around at that particular moment. But in a way, someone else was. I heard that other familiar voice... another one that I desperately wanted to hear... that little whisper from above.

"Psst... hey Rim-shot... whatcha gonna do? Do you believe her? I know you're shocked, but I think she's being honest. Haha, I never thought this would happen, but, dude, it seems like she's telling you the truth, about being sorry. I'm just keeping it real for ya, Rim-shot. I think you should accept her apology..."

"So Kevin... can you ever believe me when I say I'm sorry?" Emily asked. "I know it's a lot, but will you forgive me?"

I stood there, thinking, trying to process all of this. Although I knew things weren't over with her, I never could have predicted this would have happened... that she was now someone who looked likeable, and was apologizing to me, admitting she was wrong. I thought and thought, and came to the only conclusion I could. Emily didn't know it, but I responded to both her, and to Townsend, at the same time. "I have to," I answered. "It's the only way."

Although I knew what I had to do, relying solely on my own gut feeling and, of course, Townsend's "advice," I'd still have to explain what just happened to the remaining four most important people in my life: Mark, Dad, Keith and Nora.

Emily smiled for real this time, and so did I. She sure was a different Emily! That was the first time I ever really saw her smile. "So, can we talk more, later, Kevin?"

"Well, wait a minute, Emily. I said I'd accept your apology, but I don't know if we're gonna start hanging out or anything," I sorta laughed, skeptically. "It's gonna take some time. You know, this hit me like a ton of bricks."

"I know, Kevin. I get it. But, maybe we can be friends."

"I dunno, Emily... friends???"

"Psst... Rim-shot! Go easy, dude! Slow your roll. Just tell her maybe someday you can be friends, if the Lord's willing! Haha, that's what I always say." I swear, it seemed like Townsend was sitting on my shoulder, whispering in my ear!

"Well, I guess maybe we can talk," I paused for a moment. "And I'll tell you what. Let's just say we'll be friendly to each other, and see where it leads, OK?" I suggested, with a little kick in the butt from Townie. "And then, m-m-maybe someday, we can become friends... i-i-if the Lord's willing..."

Emily looked serious. "Fair enough, Kevin!" She smiled and nodded. But before she walked away, she turned and said, "And by the way... that sounds like something Townsend Miller would have said."

"Yeah..." I smiled.

WOW. What the fuck just happened???

Are the surprises ever gonna stop? Who would have thought that Emily DeMarco would have changed that much, in such a short time? I dunno, I still had my reservations about her. Maybe it's just me, but I knew it would take me awhile to get used to this big "change" with her, and how suddenly, over the summer, she's made this transformation from "bad witch" to "good witch." But I had to do something. I had to make a decision right then and there, without Dad or Keith or Nora or Mark. I had to trust myself... and of course that strong dose of advice from Townsend helped. That's what I relied on, and I think it's gonna be OK.

Emily disappeared in the athletic office, and I walked outside to get some desperately needed fresh air. I couldn't wait to tell Mark about what just happened with her, so I could see the look on his face. A few minutes later he came out and saw me waiting outside.

"Dude, you're never gonna believe what just happened!" I said excitedly, talking as we walked. "Guess who I saw?"

"I dunno, sweetie. You got me..."

"Emily! Emily DeMarco!! And she's had this total makeover!!! She is comPLETEly different, like she lost weight and got her hair restyled, and she's seeing a shrink... and get this... SHE SAID SHE'S SORRY!!!!"

"OK, you gotta be shittin' me... Emily DeMarco said she's sorry?? She would NEVER apologize."

"Seriously. I was getting a drink of water and I thought I'd die when I heard her say "hi" to me, but when I turned around I had to do a double-take."

"So... what did you do?"

"Mark, I accepted her apology. I know, I know, I know... it was probably stupid of me, but I just figured I had to do that in order to move on. I wish you and Nora and my Dad and brother had been there, but, you weren't, so I made the decision on my own... sort-of. Actually, I think our guardian angel might have had something to do with it. But anyway, you can kill me if you want, but I told her I wasn't exactly ready to be all buddy-buddy, but we can be civil to each other, and she said fine."

"Actually, Kev, I think you did the right thing," Mark smiled, with all of his usual smoothness and reassurance. "So... our guardian angel, huh?"

"Yeah, Mark, it sure was. It was OUR guardian angel."

I love Mark, and we both know who our guardian angel is. We didn't have to say his name, we just know. In fact, we all know. He's the sun shining through a window. And we think about him every single day.

It was already around 3:30, so Mark and I had to haul ass so he could get to work by 4:00. But we got lucky. We spotted my brother and Lisa driving past and they gave us a ride. We dropped Mark off first, then Keith took me to our grandparent's. He and Lisa went in, just for a minute, to say hello.

"Where's Grandma?" Keith asked.

"She took Aunt Laura and your cousins shopping for school. They're making a big deal out of Robbie starting first grade."

I swear our cousin Robbie is worse than Dylan Eckert. They ALWAYS make such a big fucking deal out of that little shit, I guess because he's the youngest of all the grandchildren. Hell, it's only first grade and they act like it's his first year at Fordham or something. Anyway, my brother told me to call him if I wanted a ride home, then he and Lisa left.

"Grandpa, I'll make a deal with you. How 'bout if I do the painting for you? I won't charge you a cent," I offered. "It's my way of paying you back for the Mets tickets."

"Nonsense! I'll let you do the painting, but I'll pay you. The word on the street is that you're pretty good, and you have lots of experience!" he laughed. "Now, I told you not to worry about those baseball tickets. And that's that!"

My grandfather knows I'm a hard worker, and a very careful, meticulous painter. He and my grandmother can count on me to do an excellent job! We talked as we moved the table and chairs and all the other stuff out of the way. I assured him since band practice is only during the mornings the rest of this week, I'd have plenty of time to help with the painting in the afternoons.

When the kitchen was completely emptied, I couldn't help but notice the wall under the windows, behind where the kitchen table sits. This was the very room where Dad and Uncle Tom got in that fist-fight when they were teenagers. And even though my grandfather did an excellent job filling in the hole with new drywall and smoothing out the plaster, I could still sorta tell where the damage had been. Most people would probably never know there had once been a big-ass hole there, but I could tell. I knew the spot.

The phone rang and Grandpa took the call in another room, so I was alone in the empty kitchen for a few minutes. I knelt down on the floor and ran my hands over the repair he'd made more than twenty-five years ago, and it brought a tear to my eye. All I kept hearing over and over again in my mind was Dad telling Keith and me how they left the hole there for a long time "as a reminder of the behavior that put it there." But what's more important, I thought, isn't so much that Dad and his brother fucked up the wall... it's WHY they got in the fight in the first place. That's the important thing... the REASON they were fighting, and the person they were fighting about. Remember, it all started when Uncle Tom was breaking Dad's balls about the girl next door.

Just as Grandpa hung up the phone, he walked in the kitchen and noticed me, crouched down on my knees. "Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Just checking out this place in the wall that you fixed, Grandpa. You know, the big hole that Dad and Uncle Tom made when they got in that fist-fight a long time ago."

"Oh yes, THAT fight! There were only a few times Kenny and Tommy got rowdy, and that was one of them. But it's all taken care of now Kevin. It's been patched up and painted over so many times since then."

That's when I realized that sometimes – once in a while – good things can happen when brothers fight.

I thought I'd better call Keith for that ride home he promised, but first I asked if there was any more that needed to be done.

"Well Grandpa, is there anything else I can help with while I'm here?"

"No, son, I guess that's it for today. We'll start painting the ceiling and trim tomorrow."

Just as I started to call Keith, Grandma came home. She gave me a big hug and invited me to stay for dinner, and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. "We're having pork chops – one of your favorites – and there's plenty. I'd love for your Dad and brother to come too."

"Really, Grandma, it's OK..." But it was no use. She called Dad, and he and Keith were on their way over within minutes.

However, from that point on, it was all blah blah blah about my aunt and cousins and their shopping trip. I was nice to my grandmother, but really, I got tired of hearing all about them, so I tried to tune her out. I was lost in thought, still wondering what that day was like... the day Dad and Uncle Tom got in the fight. Oh, I know the story of what happened – everyone's version is pretty much the same, no matter who tells it. But it was life-changing. Keith and I owe our very existence to that fight... and to that hole in the wall. Grandma got the pork chops in the oven (hers are the best!) and I wandered around their house as I, often do, just checking out the rooms.

We ate out on the deck since the kitchen was torn up. "It's too nice of a day to eat in the dining room," my grandmother decided. During dinner, I had to bring up the subject of Dad and Uncle Tom getting in their famous fight...

"And if that fight wasn't enough, Kenneth, you took your younger brother into New York two days later, without our knowledge or permission!" Grandpa laughed, pointing his finger at Dad. "Your mother was so pissed!"

"I was worried sick about you two!" Grandma teasingly reprimanded my father, like he was that tall, thin, dark-haired teenager all over again. Keith and I looked at each other and giggled. Haha, I was shocked that Grandpa said "pissed."

"The truth is all out in the open now, Dad." Keith teased.

"Now, listen... all of you," Dad said firmly, but with a grin. "Tommy and I hardly ever got in trouble, but the fight he and I had was started equally by both of us... I admit. But the trip into the city... that was NOT my idea at all... Tommy and "You-Know-Who" put me up to it... they egged me on!"

"Well, Kenneth, I know that's what you've been telling us all these years!" Grandpa shot back skeptically, but in a playful way.

"That's my story, Pop, and I'm sticking to it!" Dad insisted. "But, I know, ultimately I was responsible. I'm the older brother, and I guess I always will be." There was still just a slight hint of mischief and rebellion in Dad's recollection of their brief streak of trouble. "We sure did have fun that day, though, Tommy and me. It was quite an adventure!"

That made us all laugh, even my grandparents. Case closed!

The pork chops were delicious, by the way, and after dinner Keith and I helped clean up. Grandma served some cookies that she had bought, and everyone sat the living room while she and Grandpa told more stories about when Dad, Uncle Tom and Aunt Laura were growing up.

"All three of you loved books, and I encouraged you to read. Your sister was always so happy when you'd read to her, Kenneth. You were a good big brother to her... very protective."

"I remember reading "Where the Wild Things Are" to her all the time," Dad laughed. "It was her favorite book when she was about eight years old. And I've read it to the boys a million times, too."

"I heard they're making it into a movie now, with all kinds of special effects and an all-star cast," Keith added. "I guess it'll be coming out in a few years."

"So when it does you'll have to take Laura to see it. Even though you're adults now, she's still your favorite little sister." Grandma commanded.

Dad laughingly rolled his eyes. "And that's because she's my ONLY little sister!"

My Dad and grandparents were still talking, so I went outside and walked around their backyard... admiring how there isn't a blade of grass out of place and how the flowers all smell so good. The tall, forbidding maple trees are too big to climb now, but the treehouse is still there. I thought to myself how much fun it must have been for Dad, Uncle Tom and Aunt Laura growing up there, even though we have a great backyard too. I stood by the white picket fence that separates my grandparent's yard from what used to be my other grandparent's yard, and closed my eyes. They were next-door neighbors, you know, until my other grandparents downsized and moved into a condo a few years ago.

My mind took me back to a time that Keith and I have heard so much about, so often... a time in years past that we never actually experienced ourselves. That's because we weren't even thought of yet. Then again, in a way, maybe we were. It was just the beginning.

I could envision the tall, slender, dark-haired teenager standing in the very spot I was standing in, by the white picket fence, talking to the girl next door... that the cute, sizzling blond he thought was "special." He was about as old as I am now, maybe a little taller, his hair a little longer. After all, it was the late 70's then! He was sort-of athletic, but not exactly a jock... a straight-A student, but not quite a nerd. He was a real 'Topher Grace' type.

Then, his younger brother – a boy about thirteen or fourteen – joined them in the backyard. "Hey Karyn! Hey Kenny! Whatcha guys doin'?"

"We're just talking... so you can get lost now, Tommy!" the older brother said, sort-of jokingly.

"Go easy on him, Kenny. Be a nice guy!" The girl next door was equally as smart and extremely self-assured. "I heard about the fight you two got into yesterday and how you put Tommy's head through the wall."

"I don't wanna talk about it. And it wasn't his head. It was a chair. And he's the one who knocked into it. But I don't wanna talk about it."

"Sounds like you owe him!"

"Why?? He started it!" They all kinda laughed. "Besides, I said I'm sorry."

"Yeah, Kenny, and you also said you'd make it up to me! Remember??!!"

"You ought to make it up to him by taking him on an adventure!" the girl next door suggested.

"Like, what do you mean? What kind of adventure??"

"I don't know... maybe you could go into the city... check out the museums or go to someplace cool like FAO Schwartz. It isn't that far from Central Park," she chuckled.

"I think we're a little past buying toys for each other," he laughed. It was all in fun.

"Can we go??!!" the younger brother couldn't hold his excitement. "Please, Kenny, Please??!!"

"Yeah, you saw how Mom and Pop flipped out because of our fight, so you can imagine what they'd do if we went into the city by ourselves. If they find out, they'll kill us for sure!"

"Well, guys... whatever you do... have fun! I gotta go... I'm late for my piano lesson." Then the blond-haired girl next door went inside, leaving the two neighbor boys to make up their own minds about the promised adventure...

I was pulled back into the present by the sounds of my brother telling me it was time to go home. "Little Dude... come on... we gotta go!"

We all said our "thank you's" and "goodbye's" and praised grandma for the delicious pork chops. On the way home Dad thanked me for offering to help my grandparents with painting their kitchen.

"It was my idea, Dad. I feel like I owe it to Grandpa because he hooked me up with those tickets."

"Well, he doesn't feel that way, that you owe it to him. But he's glad you're doing it. And I sure do appreciate it, too."

"You're just glad it's me up on the ladder instead of you!" I teased.

When we got home, Keith went up to his room and I continued to talk to my father. "Dad, I need to tell you about something else that happened today. Nothing bad... just a little weird, I guess." That's when I told him all about seeing Emily, and her apology. He was astounded.

"I think you handled it well, Kevin. It sounds like it all of just came out of nowhere... her makeover, her attitude change, the apology. What gives?"

"I thought about it, and I think she really means it, that she's sorry. I really never did anything to her, Dad. She made it all up last fall, and she bugged the crap out of me all year. And Mr. Hartman took her side..."

"But it all worked out, son."

"Yeah, but my life was a living hell. I couldn't have handled it without you, Dad. I really mean that."

"Well, Kev... it's important that you try to see the good. You learned some things about life, and about people... and more importantly, you learned some things about yourself. It forced you to come to terms with something deeply personal to you, and it brought us closer together. You're a better man, and I'm proud of the way you handled it... all year, and especially today."

My Dad didn't have to say all of that, you know. But it sure as fuck was comforting to hear. And that's when I knew I would never leave him, for no one.

Even though it was getting sorta late, I wanted to call Mark just to say goodnight before I went to bed. Plus, I was excited about band practice the next morning, and about painting at my grandparent's in the afternoon. Mark said he'd pick me up at 7:30 sharp, and I better be ready.

"Don't worry, dude. I'll jerk off AFTER practice!"

"Or... during!" he laughed.

"Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, sweetie."

"Luvya!"

"Luvya, too!"

I tossed and turned in bed and couldn't fall asleep. AGAIN! Maybe I had gotten too much rest the night before. Maybe I was just too keyed-up about everything else... but that's normal for me. I got up and noticed Dad's door was partly open, so I went in. He was in bed, reading. My Dad has lots of books, all over the house, including a bookcase in his bedroom. We made a little small talk, and he suggested I try reading, too, that maybe it would make me drowsy.

"Your grandmother's right... reading is a good thing, and if nothing else, it might help you fall asleep," Dad advised. "You're welcome to take any book you want... it's your pick."

I looked through a few of the titles, but nothing seemed interesting. "Well... what's your favorite book, Dad?"

He smiled, and was quick to answer. "I'd have to say, it's "The Catcher in the Rye" by J.D. Salinger."

"Really?? It's on the required list for Honors Readers this year. Can I borrow it?"

"Sure you can!" He reached in his nightstand drawer and handed me the hardback copy. "It's funny, Kev. I had to read it in high school, too. I let someone borrow the old, worn out paperback I had back then... literally, it was ripped to shreds."

"I know it's a really great book. I checked out some of it last year when Mark was reading it for English. But this year I have to really read it – and know it." Dad sat in bed, smiling at me as I continued to ramble on. "You know, Dad, how Mark is usually always smooth and calm and really has his act together? Well, this one day last winter, right before Christmas, we were going someplace special, really special, but I didn't know everywhere we were going at the time, just one of the places, but I knew something was up because he was all jumpy and nervous, and he was acting just like Holden Caulfield, in the book, and I told him so! I don't think it phased him one bit!"

"Oh... I see." Dad listened.

I was thinking of the day when Mark and I were on our way to his grandpa's cabin and we took that special little side-trip to the Empire State Building! "Actually, Dad, I'm probably more like Holden than Mark is, a bit of a spazz, don't you think?"

"Um... well... maybe just a little... once in a while..." Dad smiled, and so did I.

"Well, thanks for letting me borrow this. Now I can get a head start on it."

"Just be careful with this book. It was a gift to me from someone very special."

"From who?? Aunt Laura?"

"No, no no. It wasn't from Aunt Laura." He didn't elaborate any further.

"OK, Dad. Well... goodnight. And I'll be very careful with the book."

When I got back in bed, I turned on my reading lamp and anxiously opened the cover. Three guesses who the special person was who gave that book to my Dad. I didn't read any of it that night, I just held it close to me and fell asleep. I knew right then that "The Catcher in the Rye" was going to be my favorite book, too.

I have to say, I did, in fact, get another good night's rest after all. Wow! Two nights in a row! And I sprang out of bed at 7:00 AM sharp, showered, got dressed, actually had breakfast and was waiting for Mark to pick me up at 7:30. He was on time, too, and we got to the school just before 8:00. As usual, there was a little confusion and some new, strange faces. It was funny how the kids who are a year younger than me, who I basically hadn't seen since middle school, were now freshmen. Haha, I felt so much older! And important!

While the assistant band directors were checking everyone in and getting things organized, Mr. Walters asked Mark, Eric and me to see him in his office.

"Boys, I want you to know I've made an important decision regarding the drum section," he said quietly, but with his usual firmness, and definition. "It's just the three of you this year on snare. You are the most qualified... the best drummers I've ever had in my eleven years teaching here. I believe you can handle it, leading this drum squad."

When he told us what the plan was for this year, well, I admit, it was quite a shocker, at first. One more big surprise to come my way.

"But, Mr. Walters," I asked, "Didn't you audition anyone else? I mean, it's always been four..."

"Kevin, yes, we did audition at a lot of kids. And yes, there are some other good drummers out there... even a couple of incoming freshmen who have been playing for quite a while and taking private lessons, just like you."

"But, I don't understand..." Mark wondered...

"And won't the line be uneven?" Eric butted in. "Every line has eight across... I mean, What's the deal? We'll just have Mark, Kevin and me on snare, plus the two cymbals and two bell players... our line will only have seven..."

"Yes, Eric, I'm well aware of that. It's because I've decided not to replace Townsend Miller this year."

We weren't dumb. I think we knew all along that was what Mr. Walters was getting at. I never expected it, though. I mean, I never would have predicted it, and I never would have suggested it. But as we all sat there in a state of sadness and silence, we got it. We understood.

But it brought back so many memories. Just one year ago, before I started in band, I didn't really know Townsend, just like I didn't really know Mark and Eric, either. I mean, I knew who he was and all, and I guess because Keith is so popular, and has so many friends, you just hear about different people, all the time. You sorta know what they look like or hear a story or two about them. And that was the case with Townie. He had a reputation... not a bad one at all, and even though he and Keith never really hung out a lot, they sorta ran in the same circle of friends. And then, when I came along, I sorta became part of that circle, too... I had replaced a senior from the drumline who graduated, and I was very lucky and honored that Townsend and Eric and Mark all welcomed me into the brotherhood of the drummerboys without question, without hesitation. And look where it led. Just one fast, short year ago.

One of Mr. Walters' new assistants, Mr. Sanger, was going to be coaching the drum crew this year, so we had some additional practices away from the rest of the band. I must admit, I was a little nervous at first. I wondered how Mr. Walters was going to explain his decision not to have a fourth snare drummer this year to the rest of the band. What if some of the parents objected? What if they thought it was unfair? You know, there are a lot of "my-kid's-better-than-your-kid" parents around here. I swear, the parents are more competitive than the kids. If you think the soccer parents are something, the band parents are even worse! I could just imagine some of them complaining to Mr. Hartman. I told Mark and Eric about my worries, and they both said if anyone did bitch about it to Mr. Hartman, that Mr. Davis, the principal, would step in and back Mr. Walters.

"Davis doesn't mess around, and he's pretty fair, Kev."

"Yeah, let's hope that Mr. Hartman doesn't get involed. We all know how that old fucker can be."

"I wouldn't be concerned about it. I hear Hartman's on his way out anyway. I guess this is going to be his last year." Eric added.

"Yeah, well that bastard should have retired the year before last. He should have been long-gone before I ever got to the high school and had to deal with him," I ranted. "I went to hell and back because of him and all that bullshit with Emily. He's just a stupid fucker! And I really don't even know Mr. Davis. Not directly, anyway, since I've never really had any dealings with him."

So after the meeting with Mr. Walters, the first day of practice got underway. Mr. Sanger turned out to be really cool and was a lot of fun to work with. Mr. Lane, another music assistant, coached the pit, which included all the other percussionists, besides drums. They had some really cool drum things planned for this year.

At noon, Mr. Walters met with everyone as a group and gave us a heads-up on some other plans for the music department for the coming school year. He announced that he's already made the decision on the spring musical, even though it's a long way off, and that it was going to be Les Miserables. He looked straight at Mark when he said there is a lot of talent this year and that, while everyone who is interested in participating should audition, he has some key people in mind for certain parts. He also told us rock orchestra is going to be even better this year, as they have bought three new Viper electric violins.

He said he's strongly thinking of having rock orchestra perform "Video Killed the Radio Star" with some cool special effects and lighting, and that he has a few people pre-selected to sing vocals. Again, he looked directly at Mark. Mr. Walters doesn't mince any words, and he usually always gets what he wants. He's very persuasive.

As we were putting some of the equipment away, Mr. Walters struck up a conversation with Mark. Even though I happened to be there, he was really only talking to Mark.

"So, Graham, what are your plans for college? Have you thought about a major, or where you might like to go?"

"Jeez, Mr. Walters, I'm only a junior, so it hasn't really entered my mind yet. I haven't even taken the SAT's or anything. Why do you ask??"

"I just feel that you have a tremendous amount of skill and talent, not only as a drummer, but as a singer as well. You should definitely think about a career in the music field. You're a natural."

"Gosh, I hadn't really thought too much about that, but I do love music, as you know... But I don't want to be a music teacher, though."

"I'd like you to talk to Mr. Sanger. He's a great addition to our staff, and he's a graduate of Cal-State Northridge, in the Los Angeles area. It's a fine, fine school, and their music programs are outstanding. There are so many opportunities. A good friend of mine is a professor there, and in fact, that's how we got Mr. Sanger, based on my friend's recommendation."

"Wow!" Mark was politely excited.

"There's no hurry, of course, but it's definitely something to consider."

"OK... sure..."

Since I was standing right there during the conversation between Mr. Walters and Mark, of course I heard everything. It's not like it was anything private. But it was yet another surprise, for me as well as Mark. Neither one of us ever expected there to be any kind of talk about college... not so soon! Not from Mr. Walters.

Well, I have to say, my mood changed in an instant. Even though it's far into the future, just the thought of Mark going away to college sorta did me in for the day. I was sorta quiet while we walked to the car, even though everyone around us was talking, joking, laughing, and being silly. Except me. I was out of it.

"Mark, can you just drop me off at my grandparents' house?"

"Yeah, sure. Hey, do you wanna have lunch somewhere first?"

"No.," I said sort-of abruptlty, obviously preoccupied. I got right to the point. "I gotta ask you... aren't you sorta taken aback by Walters asking about college? Is it any of his business? What the fuck. And where the fuck is this Cal-State whatever place? I mean, shit."

"Sweetie, there's nothing to worry about. Walters always does shit like this. He's only thinking and making a suggestion. I haven't even begun to think about college yet," Mark reassured me. "Oh, and Cal-State Northridge is in California... duh!"

"Cali-fuckin-fornia. That's three-thousand miles away. Is he out of his mind?"

"Calm your ass down, Kev. You're over-reacting. I mean, I'll talk to Mr. Sanger about it, eventually. But not any time soon. It doesn't mean I'm gonna go there. Trust me."

We got to my grandparent's sooner than we knew it, and sat in the driveway and talked for a few minutes. Oh how I wanted to just curl up in bed with Mark and forget about the world and everything in it... or better still, how I wanted to be alone with him in a tent again, like out at Indian Ridge.

I looked out the car window. "California's a long way away." I said.

"You're right, Kevin. California's a long way away."

(To be continued...)