Hey, welcome to the Westpoint Tales - a series of stories set in a small New Zealand town over a time-span of 150 years. (This one's in 2005.)
All the usual disclaimers apply - this is Nifty. If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't and what are you doing here anyway?
Jason and Jordan's Tale - 3
He grinned and kept going. He was pleased to be able to help and pleased to be a little involved in someone's life in Westpoint. It was no trouble at all, it was - good.
At the intersection of the second street back parallel to the main street, (King Street according to the sign), he saw the sad-eyed, bespectacled boy again. He walked across the road they were on and carried on down King Street. If he was alone, Jordan would have followed him to see where he went, but he wasn't, so he couldn't.
A couple of doors along they suddenly turned into a concrete driveway. Jordan looked up at a modern, summerhill stone, house - not large but quite new-looking. He was surprised, he'd expected the little old lady to live in a little old house.
"Here we are then, home sweet home," Mrs. Metcalf said. "And here comes the cavalry, late again."
"Hey Granny. What are you doing?" Two smiling teenage girls came out from the front of the house - the same two girls that he'd seen up the main street. They were both in shorts and t-shirts and were long-haired and long-limbed. One was pure blond, white blond, and the other had sandy-brown hair. They were both quite attractive, if you liked girls.
"Hello Girls," she replied. "I'm just bringing home the bacon of course; with the help of young Sir Galahad here. Jordan, these are my granddaughters, Sandie Metcalf and her cousin, Brenda Lynch. Girls this is my gallant rescuer, Jordan Taylor. The blasted scooter's broken down again. Sandie, you tell your dad to come and fix it."
"Hello Jordan," said the blond Sandie. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for rescuing Granny."
"No problems. It was my pleasure really. It's good to help."
"It was good of you TO help, Jordan. Nobody else did. And now it's raining again, we got here just in time. Come on inside and wait until the rain passes. Girls, you can push the scooter into the garage and bring my groceries inside."
"I can do it," said Jordan. "I've come this far.'
"You've come far enough and thank you. The girls will put it away now. Come in and sit down. Brenda, you can bring us a drink when you've down that."
"Okay, Bossy Granny," the darker haired girl grinned. "Go in and sit down Jordan. You can't win an argument with this old lady."
"Hey! Not so much of the old, my girl. I can still box your ears. Come on, Jordan, this way."
He followed her inside and they sat in the lounge and talked. Brenda brought in four glasses and a bottle. ("Of course he wants coke, Brenda. Don't ask silly questions. Every teenager likes coke, right Jordan?")
Sandie soon joined them and they sat around getting acquainted. The talk soon got around to Jordan's friend, Pip, and his untimely death. The girls were moved by his story, and by his obvious grief, and they sympathised with him.
After the rain stopped, Jordan stood to go. Mrs. Metcalf thanked him again and told him to come back and see her sometime, anytime at all. The girls went with him, at their granny's suggestion, to "show him around the town." They gave him a guided tour while they walked with him, all the way back to No.1, Main Street.
As they walked up King Street, towards the Square, Brenda commented. "I think Granny's just matchmaking really. You've made a big hit there Jordan. She thinks you're a lovely boy."
"That's because she doesn't know me. She'll soon change her mind when she finds out what I'm really like."
"I don't think so," said Sandie. "I think that you're a nice person, a lovely boy as Granny said."
"I'm not you know. Umm, Brenda, Sandie -" he stopped walking and they stopped and looked at him. "Before we go any further, I think you should know - I'm gay."
"Gay? Really?" Sandie grinned. "That's cool. So we can be friends then. Just keep your eyes off my boyfriend. Granny doesn't like him, but I do. Tommy's mine, okay?"
"Of course, okay. I'm not looking for any relationships. I'm still trying to sort out who I am."
"Aren't we all?" said Brenda. "Maybe we can help you with that, all girls together."
"I'm not a girl," Jordan stressed. "I'm just me."
The three walked on, passed the Catholic Church on the corner, across Brigham Street and into the park across the road.
"Here we are then. This, Mr.Taylor, is the coolest place in town. Its proper name is Britannia Square but everyone calls it the Square. Anything that's happening, happens here, or it starts here anyway. Everyone hangs around here. That's the Old's croquet green over there, past the bandstand. The swimming baths are in there, and that's the grandstand. Here's the running track. Do you run?"
"No."
"Okay. The football field. Do you play football?"
"No."
"Right. They play other sports here too, cricket and stuff. I suppose you don't do cricket either?"
"Nope."
"What do you do then?" Brenda asked exasperated. "You must have some interests."
"I dunno. Not a lot. Nothing sporty anyway. I just eat and sleep and wait around."
"Wait for what?"
"Don't know. I haven't figured that out yet."
"You must do something. What are your hobbies?" Sandie asked.
"Eating and sleeping and waiting around , I guess."
"Idiot!" Brenda grinned.
"Yeah. That too," he agreed.
They walked on around the track, heading for the opposite side of the Square. Two runners came towards them, two late-teenage boys running side-by-side. Both were tall, long and lean and fit-looking. Their long, bare and tanned legs moved in unison. Three pairs of eyes checked them out as they passed. Sandie glanced at Jordan and elbowed him in the ribs.
"Oh yes," she laughed. "You're gay all right. Behave yourself."
Jordan blushed. "I was just admiring the scenery."
"Yeah," Brenda said. "Nice view. You can look but you can't touch. Those two are both taken anyway. They've both got girlfriends."
"Damn," Jordan grinned. "Oh well, I don't plan on staying around here anyway."
"You don't?" Sandie asked, disappointed. "What are you going to do then?"
"I'll just wait around a couple of years, finish school, and then I'm outta here. I'm going back home where I belong."
"Where you belong. Maybe in a couple of years you'll feel like you belong here."
"Maybe. I don't think so though. I just want to go home."
"Your family are living here now, this is your home now. Give Westpoint a chance, it's a pretty cool town. Good people."
"Maybe. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not good people."
"Don't talk rubbish. You're good enough. You're a lovely boy, Granny said so," Brenda smiled. "So, what year are you in at school?
"Year eleven. How about you?"
"That's cool. We're both year elevens too. Stick with us and we'll show you around."
"Yeah," Sandie agreed. "Maybe we can find you a boyfriend."
"If and when I ever get a boyfriend, I'll find my own, thank you very much."
"Ooooh - independent. Anyway, we can tell you all about anyone. It's a small town, we know most everybody around here."
"Good for you. I know absolutely nobody around here."
"That won't last long, I'll bet you. Granny's right, you're a nice person. Here they come again. Try not to drool this time."
The two runners came around the oval track and passed them again. Jordan checked them out. The girls checked out Jordan checking them out, and grinned evilly.
"Oh, yes!" Sandie said. "We could have some fun with this."
"Don't scare the boy off, Sandie. That's the kids' playground there, you're too old for that.
The bowling club's behind that hedge."
"I don't play bowls."
"And why doesn't that surprise us? You should play something. Anything. You can't just do nothing,"
"Just watch me, Honey. I'm very good at doing nothing. Whoah! Hang on a minute. That's not good."
He strode across to the wooden shelter shed where a little blond-haired boy was sitting on the ground against the wall, cowering and crying, while three slightly bigger boys and a girl were taunting and threatening him. The girl was forcefully bouncing a basketball off the wall, close to the kid.
Jordan walked over and sat down next to him, close but not touching. He looked up at the four, now slightly unsure, kids, and grinned.
"Who the hell are you?" the girl spat at him.
"Yeah. Piss off you pervert," one of the boys agreed.
"Who am I? I'm your worst nightmare, Girly. Why don't you all just piss off before things get nasty around here?"
"What? No. You bugger off and mind your own business."
"Oh, but it is my business, Kid. I just made it my business.."
"Fuck off!" The girl threw the ball again and it hit the wall above the boy's head.
Jordan's hand snapped out and grabbed the ball as it bounced. He stood up with it,the kids all backed off, and then he drop-kicked it. The ball sailed out of the playground area, over the ring-track and well out into the empty football field before it hit the ground.
"What the? Fuck you, Mate." The girl ran off to recover her ball.
The boys stood staring at him. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size," the biggest one yelled at him.
"Why don't you?" Jordan replied quietly. He sat down again and looked at the crying boy beside him.
"I reckon, you and I together could take this lot. Want to kick some arses?"
"Yeah!" the small boy grinned through his tears and he stood up to face his tormentors. "Let's do that. Let's kick their arses."
Jordan stood, towering over the four smaller boys. The bullies backed off a couple of steps, and then they started running away, yelling insults as they went.
He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. "We showed them. Here, clean yourself up a bit."
The boy took it and wiped his eyes. He blew his nose, loudly, then offered the hanky back to Jordan, but he waved it away.
"No, it's okay. You keep it. What's your name, Kid?"
"Kenny. I'm Kenny Lynch. I'm eight years old."
"Cool. I'm Jordan Taylor, I'm fifteen years old. Do you want to be my friend, Kenny?"
"Hell, yes!" Kenny grinned. "Thanks for - for that." He waved after the retreating bullies.
"Not a problem, Kid. Maybe you'll come and help me when I'm in trouble sometime."
"Oh, I will. I really will," Kenny grinned.
"Good lad. Thanks Kenny. I need some friends."
A hand slapped on Jordan's shoulder. He looked around and Brenda kissed him on the lips.
"You've got friends, Boy," she said.
"Eww!," Jordan grinned and scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Girl germs. What was that for?"
"That was a thank you. Thanks for saving my little brother."
"Kenny's your brother? You've got a pretty cool little brother here."
"No he's not, he's a dweeb, but he is my brother."
"Don't you call my friend a dweeb, Brenda Lynch, or we'll kick your butt. Right, Kenny?"
"Right, Jordan. You watch it Brenda. I've got a friend to look after me now."
"Yeah," Jordan agreed. "And I've got a friend to look after me too. You watch it, Sis."
"So. What do we do now? I think you'd better come with us, Kenny. We'll see that you get home safely.
"No. I'm going with John and Porky. I'll see you later. Thanks Jordan."
"You're welcome my friend, anytime," Jordan smiled.
Kenny stood looking at Jordan, then he suddenly stepped forward, flung his small arms around him and gave him a quick hug. Red-faced, he ran away to join his friends.
"Wow," said Sandie.
"Yes, wow," Jordan agreed. "He's a pretty cool little dude."
"Um. Jordan," Brenda stammered. "It's great what you just did for him. Don't take this the wrong way, but he is just a little kid. He's only eight years old."
"Eww, Brenda. I'm very aware of that. I might be gay but I'm not a paedo. Kenny sort of reminds me of Pip when he was a little guy."
"Well, good. You've made a big hit there. You've made a big hit everywhere. You not only saved his butt, but you built his confidence up as well." Brenda hugged him now. "Why do the best ones have to be gay? Dammit"
"Yes, dammit," Sandie agreed. "Come on. it's getting soppy here now. We were going to go down by the river. And, Jordan, if you ever change your mind about being gay . . ." She started walking.
"I won't." Jordan followed her.
"No, I suppose not. But if you did, you'd be beating the girls off with a stick"
"Eww. Kinky," said Brenda.
"Shut up, Girls," said Jordan.
They wandered out of the Square, across the main street and over the quiet railway yard, chatting all the way, until they reached the wharves along the riverside.
The river was wide, flat, green and calm. A flotilla of wild ducks swum sedately along. There was some, sluggish, current, but not much more than there was in the lagoon. In the distance, they could see the white-capped waves breaking at the river-mouth.Jordan loved this river. Pip would've too. "Oh, Pip."
He was perfectly aware that some of the sorrow he was feeling was grief for his own lost childhood, but knowing that didn't make it any easier. It was still real.
Down along the wharves, around to the fisherman's lagoon, across the side street, and they were back at Jordan's new home. The two good-looking girls followed him into the shop and back through to the kitchen to meet his family. Jordan's father raised his eyebrows as they walked through, but he said nothing, he was busy with a customer. He just nodded and smiled a welcome.
his mother was much more enthusiastic in her welcome for her son's new friends and his brothers hung around like flies around a honey-pot.
After coke and cookies, the girls left for home. First though, they exchanged phone numbers and arranged to meet later, at the Square, to go to the movies that night. ("That okay, Mum?" "Of course it is Sweetheart.")
Jordan was standing at the kitchen sink, washing and drying the plates and glasses, when he heard his brothers outside the open window.
"Michael, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, Kid. What is it?"
"I was just wondering, do you think that Jordan's changed his mind or something?"
"Changed his mind about what?"
"About - you know, being a faggot."
"You shouldn't use that word, Sean. It's offensive. That's like calling a coloured person a nigger."
"Well, okay. Gay then. Has he changed his mind?"
"No, I don't think so. I don't think you can change your mind about something like that. It's just who he is."
"Well, what's he doing bringing girls home? I haven't met any girls. Hell, even you haven't, and Jordan comes home with two girls and he's gay. Shouldn't he be trying to hook up with boys if he's gay?"
"Maybe he will, one day. But he's allowed to have friends, isn't he?"
"I suppose. But it doesn't seem right - the gayboy gets the girlfriends?"
"They're just friends, Sean. Sometimes girls like to have gays for friends. They find them non-threatening or something. It's like that old song, you wouldn't remember it. The Bloodhound Gang sang, "I wish I was gay so I could get chicks.""
"The who gang?"
"The Bloodhound Gang. Oh, nevermind. Anyway, it's got to be good for us, doesn't it? If Jordan brings his friends who are girls home to meet us I mean."
"Oh yeah! I hadn't thought of that. This might not be so bad after all. They were really hot chicks, eh?"
"Oh yes."
Jordan smiled and shut the window. "Randy sods."
Author's Note : Any comments, questions, criticisms etc., please e-mail me at canned-heat@hotmail.com
I love getting feedback. If you want to see more - go to It's Only Me from Across the Sea (http://iomfats.org) Stories by Kiwi.
And be sure to look around while you're there, there are some great stories there.