Exposed: Chapter 2
Brock's parents had reservations at a dinner private club the average Joe wouldn't even know existed, let alone be able to make reservations. "Now James, don't be shy about ordering," Nelson Champlain said, "This is coming out of Brock's college fund."
James politely smiled at the obvious dad joke."
In addition to the meals, Nelson ordered a bottle of wine. "James," he said, "Do you drink wine?"
"On occasion," James replied.
"Good, because this is an occasion. It isn't everyday that my son becomes an adult."
"Wait dad," Brock said, "I need to tell you and mom something that might make you change your mind."
"Shit!" James thought, and nearly said allowed, "he's going to fucking come out to his parents!" James started looking around for the nearest exit, and hoped his phone had enough charge to call an Uber.
"I just resigned as captain of the soccer team," James said.
"Why son? Why would you do that? You love sports," Nelson said.
"Because I did something yesterday that was disrespectful and mean, and unworthy of a team captain." Brock then told his parents about what he did at the game, but stopped short of telling them of the Minutemen's revenge.
Brock's parents sat quietly for a minute then Nelson Champlain said, "I'm proud of you. Of course not what you did, but the responsibility you are taking for it. Sometimes, a man has to admit what he's done is wrong, accept the responsibility, and resolve to be a better person in the future."
""I understand," Brock said quietly.
"So are you still on the team?"
"I think so, but I might not get much play in the next game, maybe even the season." James doubted that was true. The coaches at Mill Brook were too desperate to win to bench their best players; none-the-less, James was impressed that Brock was willing to accept the possibility that his actions had ended his season.
"It doesn't matter," Brock's mother said, "We will be at the next game."
"That's right," Nelson said. "If you aren't on the field, you will be with us in the stands cheering for the team...Is there anything else you want to tell us?"
"No, dad." James let out the breath he'd been holding for what seemed an eternity.
"Then let's enjoy this evening and celebrate Brock coming of age" Nelson Champlain lifted the glass and said, "To my son, of whom I am so proud."
As James drank to the toast, he had three questions: "How such great parents raise such an utter asshole? Where was the real Brock Champlain? And, why wasn't Mr. Champlain his dad?"
The rest of the meal was relaxed, the conversation pleasant, and Brock, at least Brock's imposture, was actually a decent human.
On the ride back to the dorm, Brock said, "I am so sleepy. Now I wish the football team had lost so the hall would be quiet.
"You don't mean that. I saw you yelling for your fellow jocks. Hell, even I was happy for them." However, James knew the celebration would be loud and obnoxious. James' room was below that of Mike Lackland and Tony Rice, linebackers and defensive captains. After their last win, they kept him up until two in the morning before the drunken pricks finally passed out.
Back in James' room, Brock stripped to his underwear and sat down in the bed. Almost instantly he was asleep while sitting up. The last drop of adrenaline was used up and 48 hours without sleep finally caught up with him.
James figured it was useless to try getting him back to his own room. Even if he could carry Brock up a flight of stairs. Getting him down the hall to his room through the celebrating Condoms would be near impossible. So James gently lay Brock down and put his legs up on the bed. After covering him up, James grabbed two comforters that he had turned into bed curtains then hung them from hooks anchored in the rail of the top bunk. Why the room came with a bunk rather than a single bed, James wasn't sure, but he did find a use for it. Once the comforters were hanging from the top bunk the noise was muffled and the light blocked. This was James's secret safe place, and now he was sharing it with the guy who had tormented him for three years.
After taking a piss, grabbing a book and locating his sound blocking headphones, Brock climbed into the top bunk to read.
The next morning at Sunday brunch, Kip and a couple of the other soccer players came over to the table where James and his group of fellow outcasts were eating. "Hey Spangler, do you know where Brock is? He didn't come back to the room last night."
"He's sleeping off his birthday party. His father threw him quite the party."
"Why would he invite you rather than his friends?" one of the other soccer players asked.
"Maybe because I know how to use a fork and chew with my mouth closed."
"Watch it faggot, or I'll close your mouth!"
"Nate, what did we say about using that kind of language?" Kip said/
"Fuck it, when did we become so politically correct?"
"Since I told you to knock it off. If you want to challenge me, go ahead. However, let me remind you of how badly I kicked your cousin's ass last year. Are you tougher than your cousin?....I didn't think so."
Kip then turned back to James and asked, "However, it is interesting that Brock invited you and not someone like, I don't know, his roommate of four years?"
"Actually, his mother knows my mother and she wants to be able to say she saw me. Probably, some excuse to start a conversation before asking if my mom wants to be on another charity board."
"See," Kip said, "It's not some kind of Agatha Christie mystery. Although I am curious as to why he's in your room rather than his."
"I don't remember telling you he is in my room. However, he is. I barely got him up one flight of stairs. I wasn't going to go for two. Besides, the football player, and I presume some of the other jocks, seemed to be having a party of their own...until, fucking three o'clock."
"Again very sound reasoning, Spangler. You seem to have thought it all out. Good job."
Another of the guys said, "Hey, let's put lipstick and makeup on Brock. It will freak him out when he looks in the mirror."
James said, "Lance, I didn't know you are in the drama society."
"I'm not! Why do you think I am?"
"Excuse me, I just don't know where you would get lipstick and makeup at an all-boys boarding school if you weren't in drama."
The jocks and the nerds both laughed and Lance Rush turned red. "Look here you...you...you know what you are..."
James stood up and said, "Class valedictorian...National Merit finalist...president of the debate club..." Lance grabbed the lapel of James' jacket and he drew back for a punch, and something snapped in James's mind. Rather than covering up, or trying to escape, the self-defense lessons he was forced to take kicked in.
Without even thinking, James drove the heel of his hand across Lance's face, Then with both hands he grabbed Lance's wrist and twisted it, putting intense torque on the wrist, elbow, and shoulder.
Lance screamed in pain and dropped to his knees. James said, "It's a good thing soccer players don't need to use their upper limbs for anything."
"No, please don't. It hurts! It hurts!" Lance continued to scream.
Then from across the cafeteria, the Headmaster yelled, "James Pierce! Stop right now!"
James eased the pressure on Lance's arm, but didn't release it.
The Headmaster walked toward the two boys and said, this time in a calm but commanding voice, "James Pierce, let go of Lance." James did and Lance crumpled to the floor holding in arm. Tears clearly streaming down his face.
James looked down at Lance and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Yes, I do know what I am, and you just had your ass kicked by a faggot."
"Now Mr. Pierce, go to my office and wait for me!"
As James walked to the cafeteria exit he could feel three hundred and twenty-four eyes on him. Some were shocked, some were in disbelief, some were angry, some were supportive, and some were filled with pride for the first time since entering Mill Brook Academy. The one thing that was certain, none of those eyes would ever look at James Spangler Pierce the same way again.
After seeing that one of the faculty took Lance to the E.R. for examination, and ordering the boys to finish eating and return to their dorms, Headmaster Ezra Gates stormed to his office along with the schools counselor, Mitch Morton. Morton kept an eye on James while Gates called the boy's parents.
Gates door didn't completely latch when he slammed it and stood enough ajar James could hear the Headmaster's side of the conversation.
The first call was to Lance's parents. Gates told them that Lance had been in an "altercation with another student" and was currently at the Mill Brook E.R. Then James heard, "Dean Meyers is interviewing students who witnessed the altercation.".... "No, we have not contacted the police." .... "Of course that is your right; however, you might want to wait until our investigation is complete before doing so. ... Certainly, I will expect you sometime tomorrow."
The next call was to James Sr. After explaining what happened, James heard, "Yes, Mr. Pierce. I was unaware of those family changes, I will most certainly call Ms. Spangler."
James smiled because it appeared she had finally carried through with her threats to leave James father, and was taking him with her.
The next call was to Julia Spangler. Again Gates relayed the same narrative in nearly identical words. When he finished describing the altercation, there was a brief pause, then he said, "Yes Ms. Spangler, I will expect you tomorrow."
James was a bit annoyed that there was nothing in what he heard to gauge what his mother's reaction would be when she arrived. James was so focused on what his mother might be thinking that he almost missed Gates making one more call. This time to the Mill Brook Academy attorneys. Gates didn't go into any conversation about what had happened, and just said he needed to see a lawyer before Lance's parents and Julia Spangler arrived.
As soon as Kip finished his statement for Dean Meyers, he was on a dead sprint to the dorm, before anyone else ran into Brock before he did. When Brock wasn't in their room, Kip went down to James' room and knocked. He was about to leave and look somewhere else, when the door was opened by a still sleepy Brock. Kip desperately wanted to know what Brock was doing in nothing but a pair of boxers in James' room, but first he had to tell him about what just happened.
Kip started to recount the story, then stopped and said, "Wait, I need to record this," and he pulled out his phone to record. ".... So, after James finally released Lance, he said, `Yes, I do know what I am, and you just had your ass kicked by a faggot.' Everyone in the cafeteria heard it....Oh, and one more thing, Gates kept calling James Pierce instead of Spangler."
"Shit, I know who James really is!" Brock said excitedly. "He's James Pierce's son."
"Who is James Pierce?"
"Surely you've heard of Pierce International. I bet half of the guys at this school have one parent that works for, supplies, purchases, competes with or is invested in Pierce International."
"Pierce is a common name, how do you know James is that guy's son, and why would he hide who his father is? Every other guy at this place would have that tattooed on his forehead, and expect the rest of us to kiss his ass."
"I told you my mother knows James' mother. It didn't click until just now that Julia Spangler is the wife, maybe by now ex-wife of James Pierce. Hell I actually met them at a party my parents were throwing for some museum board. James wasn't there, but I remember them. From what my mother has said James Pierce Sr. doesn't get along with his son, James Pierce, Jr. I bet James started using his mother's name because of that."
Did you know he is gay?" Kip asked.
"Yeah, he told me yesterday."
"Is that why you spent the night in his room and have suddenly become buddies."
"We're not buddies, and what are you implying? What? Do you think I'm gay or something?"
Kip sat there for a while trying to think of how he was going to say what was on his mind. Finally, he said, "Brock, this is our fourth year as roommates. Don't you think that sometime in four years a guy isn't going to notice the kind of porn his roomie watches. I see the look on your face when we jack off together. I don't care, I'm a freaking exhibitionist. I get off on being watched; that's my dirty secret. Plus, I know we joke about you scoring with the locals, but I know that's just cover talk for the locker room. Okay bro, no judgment, total safe zone, have you ever been with a girl?"
Brock looked at the floor then shook his head no.
"So what's the deal with James? Suddenly you two are best buds. Then the thing in the cafeteria. I don't think James suddenly just decided to get snarky and push Lance's buttons. It was like James was ready to come out and was just looking for the most dramatic way possible."
Brock looked Kip in the eyes and said, "I need you to keep a secret, nuclear launch code type secret. Can you do that?"
"For you, absolutely."
So Brock told Kip what had happened the day before, how James had rescued him, helped him cover, all in spite of James' feelings about how the jocks had treated him. "He hated me, maybe still does, but he helped me. It wasn't just cutting me down or giving me something to wear. He protected my reputation, he got his friend to get my wallet and keys back, he took care of me."
"I see," Kip said.
"I haven't come out as gay to James. I figure after four years of being roomies and besties, you should be the first to know for sure, but I think he knows in the same way you knew. I hope I didn't just fuck up our friendship."
"Absolutely not, we are bros for life. Now I think we need to hug." Brock and Kip were every bit as real of brothers as if they had the same parents and their hug was one of true familial love. Both young men shed some tears on each other's shoulders. Finally, Kip decided to lighten the mood, and said, "Was that yours or my cock that just moved."
"It might have been mine." Brock answered.
"Good, I was afraid I wasn't hot enough for you. You seem to be into cute, sassy, nerd types."
"No, if you weren't my brother, I'd for sure be into you," Brock said.
"Yeah you gotta draw the line somewhere. Okay, let go of me, I've got to run down the hall and take a piss."
Brock smiled and pointed to a door. When Kip opened the door he yelled, "What the fuck! He's had his own bathroom for three years, and we've had to share toilet and showers with a bunch of fucking animals. I don't think that once in four years George McKaye has flushed a toilet."
"Yeah, and Axtel Grant's aim is so bad he couldn't piss into the middle Atlantic Ocean, even if he were standing in a canoe."
Kip said, "You know, this is a really big room, and it has that bunk bed. Do you think James would let us move in with him for the rest of the year?"
Brock laughed and said, "I think he would find our smell just as offensive as we find George McKaye's. Now take your piss because you have to help me find a way to talk to James."
As it turned out, Lance Rush had no dislocated joints or torn ligaments. So, the E.R. doctor gave him a sling and told him to take it easy for a couple of days.
On campus, Headmaster Gates had to decide what to do with James and Lance until the disciplinary hearing. The only real place to isolate two students from the rest of the student body was the campus infirmary. So, James and Lance were locked in separate sick rooms. The next problem was who would supervise them. As it turned out, the only male faculty member living on campus who did not have a family was Mr Gregg, the librarian.
Mr. Gregg was very nice, but closing in on 70. He could have retired years before, but having no family and no interests outside of the school, he never got around to turning in his retirement papers. It was the considered opinion of many on the faculty that Gregg was a bit senile, but Gregg had been an actor on Broadway and few people knew that the "Doddering Librarian of Mill Brook Academy" was one of his greatest roles. It allowed him to skip faculty meetings; avoid committee assignments, opt out of supervising ball games and other extracurriculars; he even got by with parking his car in the spot reserved for the Headmaster. However, what it allowed him to do best was observe people.
When Brook and Kip saw that only Gregg was left in the infirmary watching James and Lance they decide to sneak in. The lounge TV was on, but Gregg looked to have fallen asleep watching Sunday Night football. Just as they were about to slip past Gregg, the old man's cane snapped up between Brock's legs and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.
"Mr. Sander, it is going to be a bit before your friend can speak. So why don't you tell me why you two are trying to sneak in here."
"Well Mr. Gregg, we...we were wanting to speak with James... you know, like see how he's doing."
Gregg smiled and said, "I think your friend needs to lie down for a minute. There is an empty bed in room two. Why don't you take him there until he feels better. Here is the key. It also opens room number one if you feel the need to rest as well."
Kip took Brock to room 2, and let him in. When James saw the pain Brock was in, he asked, "What's the matter with Brock."
"Mr. Gregg...."
"You don't need to go any farther. He got the cane," James said.
"Yep, that old man is probably a leading cause of declining American fertility," Kip said with a chuckle. Then Brock moaned, and Kip said, "Oh, sorry buddy. Hey, James see if you can do anything for our friend, I'm going to step across the hall for a minute."
When Kip opened the door, Lance smiled and said, "You and the team come to show the fag who runs this school."
Kip looked at Lance with cold eyes and said, "Use the f-word again and your other arm will be in a sling. Got it, asshole."
"Wait! You're taking the fff...his side. Look what he did to me."
"Yes, and what I'm hearing is half the witnesses are saying you started it. That Spangle was just defending himself. Moreover, not that many of the rest of the witnesses are willing to lie for you. There are a whole lot of people who just didn't see anything."
"I don't care, my dad is pissed and he's ready to sue. So if this school doesn't want a shit load of trouble, they'll expel that pervert."
Kip smiled and said, "When you had that party for the soccer team at the end of last season, didn't I see your father was wearing a Bradley Shipping and Logistics jacket?"
"I don't know. He could have. He's the V-P of the company's North American Division. What difference does that make?"
"Something my roommate Brock Champlain said...you know Brock...soccer captain...mean as hell ... by the way did you know he and Spangler are friends ... yeah, it turns out their parents run in the same social circle. I don't know why I told you all that. Anyway Brock said he bet half the families at this school work for or do business with Pierce International. So out of curiosity I looked up Bradley Shipping and Logistics, and guess what, Pierce International bought Bradley Shipping and Logistics six years ago. Now here's the funny thing, Spangler's real name is James Morgan Pierce, 3rd, and his father is James Morgan Pierce, 2nd, chairman of Pierce International and your dad's boss. Isn't this a small world after all."
"I don't know why you're siding with Spangler, but that's bullshit. His father isn't some industrial tycoon. Hell, he works in the library. He's on scholarship."
"You make an interesting point. I've wondered about that myself. Let's find out." Kip grabbed Lance by his good arm and started dragging him to the infirmary lobby. On the way, Kip made sure Lance's bad arm ran into a couple of door frames.
"Mr. Gregg, we have a question. Is James Spangle a library aide because he is on scholarship?"
"Heaven's no, his family is loaded. He's a library volunteer. I don't know all the nitty gritty, but something about what James calls "The Deal With the Devil," whatever that means."
Then Kip showed Lance something on his phone. "It wasn't easy to find this, but you might want to take a look." It was a picture of James Pierce, Sr., a face most people would recognize, the the other two faces were not publicly well known: Julia Spangler Pierce, James Pierce Sr.'s wife, and James Spangler Pierce, their son."
Mr. Gregg looked at Lance and said, "Are you alright young man? You seem a little ill." Then he then gave Kip a wink.
"Thank you Mr. Gregg," Kip said. "Well Lance, we have some things to discuss."
Meanwhile, back in room two, Brock asked, "Can you check my balls, I think that old man ruptured me."
"He didn't rupture you," James said. "He doesn't swing hard enough to do that."
"No seriously, I think something is wrong."
"Okay, I guess you did come visit me in jail," then James smiled and added, "but I'm making it clear from the beginning, this is not a conjugal visit."
Brock stood up and lowered the athletic shorts he was wearing. James had to bite his tongue to refrain for some sexual comments when he saw Brock was going commando.
"They look fine to me, maybe a bit red, but nothing unusual."
"You can't just look at them, you have to examine them."
"I'm not a doctor."
"But you know what balls are supposed to feel like. Do they feel normal?"
"I should have just left you tied to that fence," James said as he touched Brock's testicles. "They're fine. I am sure they've gotten hit worse playing lacrosse."
"Yes, that's why I now wear a cup. It still hurts with a cup, but it's not going to crack your eggs. You'd know that if you ever played any sports."
"I've played sports," James said more defensively than he wanted.
"Really, what sports?"
"Tennis, and I'm pretty damn good."
"Really?" Brock said skeptically, "then why aren't you on the Mill Brook tennis team?"
"Because that would make my father happy."
"You and your father must really not get along."
"Not at all. That's why I am in a boarding school in Massachusetts rather than a day school in New York City. ... Oh, you can pull your shorts up. I've seen enough of your pathetic junk in the last two days."
"Hey, my junk isn't pathetic; it's sophisticated."
James burst into laughter, "That's a good one. I'll have to remember that if I ever get a C' in a class. But mom, all the sophisticated boys get Cs'."
"You know what James, you can be just as much of a bully as I am. You probably don't remember, but we didn't even know each other the first time you called me stupid. It was our first year at Mill Brook, Mr. Chandler had assigned us to be lab partners. The first words out your mouth when we got together were, `I don't do homework for stupid jocks.' FYI, I am not a stupid jock, and I don't have a small penis."
"I'm sorry about that. I forget I can be an ass too. So, for the record I guess if I hadn't been so determined to hate this place, I might have even made some friends."
"It's not too late," Brock said, "You still have most of our senior year, and you've already made two friends, me and Kip."
"You are forgetting, they are going to expel me tomorrow."
"That's why me and Kip are here. We're not going to let that happen. We've got a plan."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but the handwriting is on the wall, Don Quixote."
"Never, we never quit playing until the final whistle is blown, but we have to make sure you are in the game. Do you want to stay at Mill Brook?"
"Damn, I don't know. Two days ago I would have said hell no, but today I'm torn. I guess I want to stay. It would be stupid to transfer schools at this point. I'd lose a whole semester of credits and not graduate in time."
"It's not an enthusiastic yes, but it's what we've got to work with." Brock stepped into the hall and gave Kip a thumbs up and soon he and Lance joined Brock and James.
"Okay," Kip said, "This is what we're going to do...."
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