Ring in Mine
Kim Terry
Just when the worst was over.
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My thanks go out to Zack for proofreading this chapter.
Kim ----------
Ring in Mine: John Chapter 15
Andrew stopped by after school. He dropped Mark's homework on the table.
"John, I really need help with math. Dad tried to help me." Andrew produced an assignment with a large D- written in red. As John helped his friend redo the near failing assignment and then the current assignment Grandma baked cookies.
"It's amazing that I can finish in half the time with your help." Andrew announced with a cookie in each hand. "Do you want to go to the community center? You have art class tonight. Maybe we could workout."
It seemed so normal. John grabbed his stuff without thinking. "Grandma, I'm going to the rec. center."
John was gone so quickly he didn't hear his grandmother voice her concerns. He was too late for the art class so they headed for the locker room. John hadn't thought through changing. He faced the wall rather than letting his friend see his still black and blue balls.
Andrew asked John why he was taking it easy on the weights. John explained he was recovering from surgery without going into any details.
After about 20 minutes John had to use the restroom. The toilets were in an alcove off the locker room. Of the five urinals John took the one closest to the wall. He was concerned when a man in his thirties hit the urinals on the way to the showers. His towel hung around his neck; his flip-flops slapped the floor with each step. John became nervous when the man took the urinal next to him ignoring the other three vacant spots.
John turned more toward the wall to finish. When John turned to leave the nearly naked man was sporting an erection.
"What's the hurry? Are you afraid to see a real man's dick?" He took John's hand and forced him to touch his hard dick. John grabbed the man's low hanging nuts using the strength needed to perform on the high bar and rings, he pulled and squeezed. John finally released his death grip; the man dropped to his knees. John began shaking uncontrollably. He ran to the handicapped toilet stall and lost all of grandma's wonderful cookies. John decided they tasted better going down than coming up. Concerned Andrew went to find his friend. He finally recognized the shoes in one of the stalls.
"John are you alright?" Andrew asked.
"No! Will you call my dad?" John pleaded.
The attendant at the desk wouldn't let Andrew use the phone. In despair he turned to see the next best thing, John's gymnastics coach.
"John, they wouldn't let me use the phone. I found your gymnastics coach." Andrew informed his friend.
"Is he gone?" John asked.
Once John was assured the naked guy with the sore nuts was gone, he unlocked the stall door. He was visibly shaken and had that sick smell that comes with throwing up. He grabbed his coach and hugged him without speaking.
"I take it this has something to do with a naked man?" John's coach asked. With the nod of John's head the whole story came out.
Over the resistance of the young staff member at the reception desk, Coach commandeered a conference room. He pointed to the phone on the table and told Andrew to call John's parents.
"Grandma, some guy tried to molest John in the locker room. Could you get hold of Mr. Litchfield?" Andrew asked.
Grandma Litchfield unable to reach Mark did the next best thing. She called both Frank and Bob asking them to meet her at the center.
Coach disappeared back into the gym proper only to reappear with a man in his mid twenties. His shorts had a sheriff's badge printed on them. Coach introduced the man as one of his past team members Officer Allen.
"We should wait until his parents arrive." Officer Allen suggested.
John insisted he tell the story before he lost it again. John told every detail he could remember.
"Can you describe the man?" Officer Allen asked.
"He was about 30ish, with dark hair, medium complexion and about 6 feet tall." John described the man.
"That isn't much to go on." Officer Allen observed.
"Give him the biggest piece of paper you can find and some good pencils." Andrew suggested.
Andrew put the poster board in front of his friend. "Let's give him some space."
Officer Allen watched through the window amazed as John's pencil flew across the page.
"He is amazing to watch isn't he? He has pieces hanging at the college and a gallery in Salt Lake." Andrew observed.
Two men walked up to the coach and Andrew. They took one look through the window. "What's John doing?" Bob asked. "I'm John's therapist. This is Frank, one of John's lawyers."
Officer Allen introduced himself and explained the situation. "His description was pretty vague. He is drawing what the guy looked like. I don't know how long this will take."
"I've watched him do this before. He is at the fiddling stage. He is pretty much done." Andrew explained. Bob turned the knob. He and Frank disturbed John's concentration.
John took one look at Bob and broke down and retold the whole story punctuated with tears.
"I didn't tell the officer everything. I felt like I popped one of his balls. Is that possible?" John explained. "I didn't tell the officer because I didn't want to get into trouble."
Frank invited the officer and John's coach into the room. Officer Allen was amazed at the likeness on the paper. He had expected a child's drawing. What he got would be very helpful. John pointed out some of the distinguishing features such as the birthmark on the man's hip and the mole on the guy's shaft.
"John is concerned that he might have injured the man when he grabbed the man's scrotum." Frank explained.
Officer Allen expressed his doubt about John's ability to squeeze that tight.
"John take the officer's hand firmly and then squeeze but don't damage him." His coach suggested.
John began tightening his grip. He was used to grasping the rings and bars during his routines. The officer's face paled. "John stop." The coach requested.
"I tried not to hurt you." John apologized.
Just then an angry pounding began on the door. Bob stepped into the hall refusing to let Mark into the room.
"Get out of my way. Andrew told me what happened. John should never have left the house." Mark shouted.
Bob stood in the doorway. "Mark, I will not allow you to go in there. Who are you really mad at?"
"John, he should have stayed home!" Mark was still very loud.
"Wrong answer, f you go in there with that answer you will end up in jail again and I will suggest they leave you there." Bob kept his cool which irritated Mark even more. "Who do you really want to hurt?"
Mark stopped shouting for a moment. "I want to cut that guy's dick off and shove it in his mouth. How dare he bother my son?"
"We are almost there. Is the guy here?" Bob asked. Mark looked around and realized that Bob was right. He could go into the room mad; he just had to be mad at the right person. Bob helped Mark through some controlled breathing and focusing exercises they had been practicing in their sessions. "If it makes you feel any better, John is afraid he popped one of the guy's nuts."
"He should have popped both of them." Mark chuckled.
"That's better. What your son needs now is your support and a hug." Bob concluded.
Mark walked next to his son and got down on one knee so he was on John's level. "How are you handling things sport?"
Much to Mark's surprised John threw his arms around his dad and cried into his shoulder. "That was quick thinking, giving his nuts a squeeze." Mark commended his boy on his actions.
Mark got a look at the drawing. He knew this guy. It was his replacement at the high school. His anger began to grow.
"Dad let the cops deal with it. I need you home not in jail." John responded to his father's anger.
By now two officers in uniform had arrived. Mark knew one of the officers. As a junior his son had played on last year's football team. Frank started his cassette recorder and John went over his story one more time.
"John will need to come down to the station to make a statement." One of the officers insisted.
With Bob's support Frank informed him that it wasn't going to happen. What John needed was to go home.
"Ask your questions now. I will let you have the tape so you can copy it." Frank informed the officers.
They asked lots of questions. John was becoming more and more anxious. Their questions seem pointed toward John being in the wrong rather than the one being molested.
Bob interrupted the interrogation. "Frank, John is done. He is going home now."
Mark had a final comment as they prepared to leave. "That's looks like the new coach at the high school. I wonder if he is only into really young boys. He is in a perfect position to take advantage of his students."
Mark wanted to make a big deal of John going to the community center. The older Mrs. Litchfield put a stop to that by dragging her son into the kitchen by his ear.
"Mom, I hope grandma switches ears, other wise dad is going to have one much bigger than the other.
By the weekend things had seemed to mellow out. John wasn't jumping at shadows all the time. He and Andrew had gone to the center again with the promise they would stay together.
The following Monday John had an appointment to take the stitches out. The doctor declared him physically ready for school. His second appointment was with Bob. Bob felt that if John felt ready to go back to school he should give it a try.
That night on the news the story broke. The high school coach had inappropriate contact with more than John. He had been charged and put on unpaid leave from the district during the investigation.
The next morning John gathered his week's homework. Mark was dropping him and Andrew at the junior high school. The day started well. Things started getting odd during lunch. As John walked down the hall groups of students would stop talking and follow him with his eyes. John cringed when coach announced they would be playing basketball. John seemed to lose all of his gymnastic grace on the floor. Only John noticed that each stumble and fall was preceded by contact with a class member. He was unsure why his classmates seemed to go out of their way to foul him. Toward the end of the class some of the jocks were talking to the coach.
"Litchfield you are excused from showering today." The gym teacher shouted.
"But I stink, coach." John protested.
"Then wait until everyone else is done." The teacher demanded.
"But I'll be late for my next class." John complained.
"Then you'll be late. Fifteen laps now Litchfield." Coach turned leaving John to finish his laps around the gym.
John finally made it into the locker room as Andrew was leaving.
"Andrew wait up!" John called out to his friend.
"John I can't hang with you at school anymore." Andrew gave no explanation. He just turned and left.
John skipped his shower rather than be late for his shop class. John looked for his project in his assigned storage spot.
"Mr. Gregson did my project get moved?" John asked the teacher.
"It was there over the weekend." The teacher helped look around the project storage room. John in desperation looked in the burn bin. There he found the delicately painted and lacquered top of the table he was building. Someone had taken great efforts to destroy the surface. The ornately scrolled legs were found under the top. They had been cut in half. Each of the four legs had taken days on the lathe. John knew that he should be a man. He had the carefully designed plans in his school locker. He could build it again. He didn't cry but tears left their damp trails on his cheeks. The teacher was upset and promised to look into it.
John started a design for a picture frame. Something heavy and dark, much like his current mood. Sitting at the drafting table with a guide to all the available router bits he planned his project. The design would take ten passes on the router table to achieve the design.
As John walked to his locker and then left the building, the quiet stares continued. It started giving him the creeps.
He went to the community center for his watercolor class. It seemed they were talking about the same things over and over. As the instructor walked by John his comment was always the same. "You've got it." If he wasn't enjoying being around others with the same interests, he should probably quit coming.
He arrived at the Professor Terrion's for his life drawing class. Things were in an unusual state of chaos. The model hadn't shown up. They were about to cancel class. John thought to himself, `Andrew does it all the time. Why not?'
He stepped up to the boxes, pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes and dropped his trousers. He put one bare foot on the box, put his elbow on his knee, and rested his chin on his palm looking out at the artists.
Professor Terrion was still out of the room trying to find a model. The artists were busy drawing. One pulled a Polaroid camera out of his bag, snapped a couple of shots from different angles and put the developing photos on John's easel. John had wondered what it would be like to draw himself. It looked like he was going to get the chance.
It seemed like he had held the position forever. The professor finally called a break.
"John what possessed you to take your clothes off?" She asked shaking her head.
John explained he didn't want everyone to have wasted their time. He also now had a greater respect for the models. Posing takes a lot of mental control. If you didn't find something to think about you could go stark raving mad.
"Are you still alright?" She asked.
"I'm not thinking about it. If someone were to touch me I'd probably freak out." John answered.
"John, I noticed you have your bag with you. Is your gymnastics uniform in there?" She asked. John nodded. "Would you put on just the singlet for the next pose?"
John remembered how erotic painting Martin had been. He wore the singlet with nothing under it. Looking in the mirror he tried to accentuate his equipment. He finally rolled up a sock and laid it to the left. It made a noticeable yet still believable package. Posed and ready to go, the process started again. In the singlet it would be harder to create definition in the drawing. He realized the Professor had done this just for this purpose.
The final pose was John wearing only a jock. He had a knee up on the box again. The professor found a reasonably authentic looking medal. It was similar to the first pose except he was studying the medal in his hand with the ribbon hanging down. A couple of flashes later, developing photos were once again left on John's easel.
The professor had already called Ruth letting her know what John was doing. When he finally looked up and stretched, his mother was standing with the professor. He hadn't been embarrassed posing, but his mom seeing him only in his jock had him blushing.
"I didn't realize how much definition your gymnastics have added. You look pretty good up there." Ruth commented making John blush allover.
The models were paid through the college. There was no way they would pay a thirteen year old to model. The artists were generous with their tips. It would be nice to have some money in his pocket. Even though he had money in the bank, it was difficult to access it. When he bought art supplies the bills were sent somewhere and they were paid for. Once he was over his embarrassment the 50 dollars in his wallet gave him a bit of a swagger.
John decided to work on his self-portraits later. His dad was doing better, but he wasn't going to push his luck.
Andrew must have walked to school. He never arrived at John's. Mark thought John's lack of concern odd but didn't ask. Mark watched John walk up the school steps. He noticed kids step away from his son as if he were contagious. He made a mental note to ask John what was going on.
John caught kids pulling away in his peripheral vision. This was even worse than yesterday. He called out "Hi!" to some of his friends at school only to be ignored.
How can you prove someone has ransacked your locker? John was usually quite neat. His books were out of order. The plans for the table were missing. He needed to report it to the office.
"Mrs. Sorenson, someone has been in my locker. Things are messed up and plans for my shop project are missing." John explained to the secretary in the office. She was unsympathetic and cold. She had been quite warm with John after the picture he had drawn of her. She gave John a form to fill out.
As he opened his worthless math book a crude drawing of a guy sucking dick fell out. The guy on his knees was labeled John.' The guy standing was labeled anybody.' John crumpled the paper and stuck it into his backpack. John had finished his assignment before the class was half over. The teacher had given up caring if John finished early. John would read or draw the rest of the period, never disturbing the other students. Today John chose to read the book he had brought from home. He didn't dare open any of the books from his locker for fear of what else might fall out.
Between classes he found a quiet restroom and shook all of his books. After the second `Kill the Fag!' he collected the rest without looking at them. He put them all in the zippered pocket of his backpack. He wasn't sure what to do with them; he had a lawyer, and a therapist maybe they could help.
"I hear you had your hand on the coach's dick in the gym. Did you get caught so you turned him in?" John turned to determine the source of the accusation. Behind him was a group of jocks from the school. All of them were smirking.
"I wouldn't walk down any dark alleys. There are guys from the high school that aren't happy with you at all." The tallest laughed. They pushed past him jostling John from side to side.
If John had any doubts about what was happening at school finding "FAG" written on his locker in magic marker clarified the situation. Someone had linked him to the high school coach's arrest. It's tough being outed at school especially when you are straight.
John wanted to skip out during lunch. Any chance of leaving was gone when he was called to the office just before lunch. He was doubting the intelligence of the school administration. Who would write FAG on their own locker? The custodian watched as John scrubbed the writing off his locker. He finally finished restoring the front of his locker to the satisfaction of his keeper.
"Open it!"
The images drawn inside the locker door were offensive to John more so because of their poor execution than their obscene nature. John wondered how the custodian knew about the drawings inside the locker.
When his locker was clean he spent the rest of the day cleaning other lockers. Class changes were the worst. There was a lot of finger pointing and laughing. John made a promise; he'd kill himself before he would ever step foot in the school again. By the time they finally released John for the day he was an hour late. It was too late to go to gymnastics. He loaded anything in his locker that he wanted to keep into his backpack. Anything that belonged to the school was left. He wasn't coming back.
He decided to walk home. He stopped at a convenience store. He bought a Coke and with the change called Bob. No one answered. John left a detailed message about the last two days. He mentioned the threat and the fact that he would rather be dead than go back to his school.
Bob was very upset by the message he found on his machine, especially the mention of suicide. The rate of suicide for graduates of reprogramming was very high. The first thing Bob did was call Frank and Brent, John's lawyers. Bob played the taped call for Frank. The two would meet at Litchfield's. Bob checked the time stamp. John had called two hours earlier.
A quick call to the Litchfield's revealed that John had never made it home. Mark and Ruth were out looking for him between the community center and home.
"Mrs. Litchfield, John was walking straight from the school to home. They are looking in the wrong place." Bob announced telling briefly about John's call.
By the time Bob and Frank arrived someone had found John's backpack in a church parking lot. It had been dark for hours. The scene was lit by the headlights of police cars. Everything had been taken out of the canvas pack. If it could be broken it was. The rest had been urinated on. The police were following a trail of blood spots.
"Sargent, we need to call an ambulance!" Shouted the officer standing next to the dumpster. One officer took several photos of the bin's contents. They carefully kept all civilians away from the metal coffin-like trash container.
If you would like to be notified when a new chapter is available drop me a line. ringinmine@yahoo.com