Tyler's Dance
Chapter One
It was dark, very dark. No light could be seen at all, except for the occasional beam of light from the full moon as it broke through the nighttime cloud cover.
Pete looked down at his hands, which, like his other features, were very small. He sat with his hands cupped together, his knees between his arms. This was his thinking position, and he sat quietly on the ground, his thoughts racing and almost audible in the complete silence of the nighttime air.
How could things go so wrong so fast, he thought to himself.
Only a few hours earlier he had been at the school dance. He was the new kid at school, having only been going there for the last four months. He, his parents, and his younger brother had moved from Connecticut to the gulf coast of Florida. His father was a psychiatrist, and when he decided to move his practice south the whole family had to follow suit. It wasn't something that Pete was overjoyed about, having to leave his friends and his favorite cousin behind to go somewhere where he knew no one at all. And besides that it was the coast, which Pete had never even seen until they arrived.
Sitting in the dark, his thoughts drifted back to the first time he laid his eyes on the ocean. It was early in the morning, and the sun was coming up over the rippled water, creating an orange glow that rode on top of the waves. The ocean extended far as he could see. The expanse of it added to his already lonesome feeling. Standing beside him, his mother placed a caring arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry Peter", she said, "it'll feel like home real soon."
A lot she knew, Pete thought to himself.
And then there was the first few days of the new school year. Scenes of getting lost in the maze of unknown hallways ran through Pete's mind. Being from the north, he didn't dress like all of the other kids. They all seemed to wear the same kind of shorts and none of them would ever be caught in anything other than a tee shirt. And shoes? Sandals only, please. Pete wore his usual button down shirt and khaki slacks the first few days, until the snickering in the halls became unbearable. Having convinced his mother of the need to fit in, one day he showed up for school dressed in what seemed to him to be the standard uniform for all males; knee length cut offs, a very loose fitting tee shirt, and open toe sandals (which were almost impossible for him to walk in until he got used to them). But, having had very little sun on his legs and arms, they shone up a brilliant white against all of the other tanned students, producing even more snickering. It got even worse when his lack of sun exposure, combined with the intense rays that are inherent on the Gulf Coast, produced a rosy red color sunburn on his lightly freckled face and legs. The red tone contrasted with his brownish blond hair and light hazel eyes.
But probably the worst part of everything was that he was incredibly lonely. His dad was always busy trying to get his new practice of the ground, and his mother had a house to establish. His brother Ryan? Well, how much can you do with someone who is eight years younger than you? Besides, he was fitting in a lot quicker than Pete, having already had two or three kids from the elementary school over for the weekend by now. But Ryan was always like that: the kind of person who never meets a stranger and was always able to talk to anyone.
But it was different for Pete. Painfully introverted, he found it extremely difficult to even look someone he knew in the face, much less strangers. And to walk up to someone and start a conversation? Forget it. Especially since his very pronounced Connecticut accent stood out like a sore thumb against the rest of the kids "beach dude" manner of speaking.
And so he spent the first few weeks at his new school trying to avoid contact with anyone as much as possible. In class he would always try to sit in the back, as far away from the other kids. When classes changed he would try to lag behind until everyone else was gone, then hurry to his locker and hope that he wasn't late for his next class. One time he didn't make it though, and he had to endure the stares of everyone as he walked the long journey to the back of the room to find an empty seat. The snickering was almost unbearable.
At lunch he had a special spot that he always tried to get. It was near the teacher's tables, and since none of the kids really wanted to be near the teachers during lunch, he was almost always guaranteed to be by himself while he ate.
And that was pretty much how it went for Pete for the first month of his new school year. Sometimes someone would say something to him, like "hello" or "get out of my way" as they pushed by him in the halls, but more often than not he could go an entire day and not have more than a few words directed at him. Except by his English teacher, Mrs. Stanton. All good teachers have an instinct for a particular talent in a kid, and she was no exception. She recognized Pete's literary ability from the first day, when she had the class write an essay about what they did over the summer vacation. Since then she had encouraged him to write more often, and had offered to read anything that he wrote. In fact, she had become the one and only person in the entire school that he felt comfortable talking with, and he considered Mrs. Stanton his only friend there. Almost every day he would bring her something he had written, either fresh or from his own personal archive of writings, begun when he was still in elementary school. Each time she would read over it, offer any advice she might see fit, and give it back to him. Pete would then thank her for the advice, take the paper, and almost bounce of the room. It was the only class he genuinely looked forward to. In time, word got around that he was a pretty good writer, and that's how Tyler came into the picture.
It was during lunch one day about six weeks into the school year. Pete was sitting at his customary table in the lunchroom by himself and finishing his lunch, when someone suddenly sat their plate across the table from him. Startled, he almost choked on a piece of pizza that he was swallowing.
"Hey, sorry dude. Didn't mean to scare you." Pete looked up. It was Tyler. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
Pete stammered a bit, trying to recover from the startle and the gagging in his throat. "No, I don't care. Go ahead," he finally said.
"Cool," Tyler said as he pulled out the chair from the table and started to sit down. He was tall, a lot taller than Pete, maybe five foot eight or so, with almost black hair that he habitually threw to the side every few minutes to keep it out of his dark brown eyes. He wasn't very thin or very fat, just somewhere in the middle, and he wore the customary oversized white tee shirt and knee length cut-offs. After he had sat down he took a half pint of milk, and after giving it a good shaking he opened the carton and downed it all in one quick gulp. This was followed by a very toothy white smile, a very loud burp, and then he tossed his mop of black hair to the left side of his face, out of his eyes.
Pete tried not to act nervous, but he could tell that he was getting all red in the face. I better be cool, he thought to himself. He tried to hurry and finish his last few bites of pizza.
"Man, they expect us to eat this?" Tyler said, as he took his fork and jabbed at a very stiff piece of pizza. His hair fell back down and dangled in front of his face as he looked down at his plate.
Pete tried his best to think of something funny to say back. Something witty, something that would show his "keen sense of phrasing", as Mrs. Stanton had once remarked about his writing.
"Yes, I guess so," Pete heard himself finally say. Yes, there you go, he thought to himself. Not exactly the wittiest response that had ever been uttered.
"So," Tyler said, still looking down at his plate as he attempted to saw his pizza into bite size pieces, "I hear that you are a good writer or something."
Pete stammered. "Well," he finally said, " I do write sometimes. I don't know if I would call it good or not." He sheepishly looked up from his plate to see Tyler grin as he shoved a rather large piece of pizza into his mouth, while yet again tossing those bangs out of his eyes.
"Not what I hear," he said, trying to get the words out in between chewing. "I heard that you are pretty good, and that Mrs. Stanton said so."
"Well, I don't know. Maybe so," Pete said as he started to get up from the table. He didn't want to be rude, but he knew he was getting visibly red from being nervous, like he always did. And it wasn't from the sunburn.
"I was wondering," Tyler said interrupting. "You know that essay we have to do for Biology, right?"
"Yes?" Pete slowly sat back down again.
"Well, I was wondering if maybe you could read over mine and see if it's ok. You know, to look for stuff that needs to be fixed?" Tyler continued to stuff pizza into his mouth, causing his words to slur together as he spoke.
"You mean proof read it for you?" Pete asked.
Swallowing hard, Tyler continued. "Yeah, that's it. I'm not very good with words and stuff, and I need to make a good grade on it so that I don't have to sit out the rest of the season." Tyler was a sophomore on the football team, and if he didn't maintain a C average in all of his classes he would be benched and not able to play.
Pete thought for a second. "Sure, why not?" he said.
Tyler started standing up from the table. "Thanks. I'll get it to you this afternoon in seventh period," he said as he reached for his tray.
Pete knew that Tyler was in his seventh period History class. But Tyler always sat in the front of the class because of his eyes, and Pete could always be found in the back, as far away from everyone else as he could get. "Sure thing," Pete managed to say as he started to stand up from the table. Feeling a little bit surer of himself than usual he added, "No problem Tyler."
Tyler was on his way to the garbage can, but then he stopped in mid step. Turning around he looked intently at Pete. "It's Pete, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes," Pete answered back. "Well, actually it's Peter, but everyone calls me Pete."
Tyler turned around and continued to the garbage can. "Well Pete," he said, emphasizing Pete's name as he emptied his tray, "I'll see you in seventh period." He then produced his signature toothy white smile, tossed his bangs out of his eyes one more time, and headed for the large double doors that were the entrance to the school's cafeteria.
Pete walked over to the garbage can and emptied his plate. His mind raced as he thought about the events of the last five minutes. He felt overcome with fear, while at the same time relieved, like after something good unexpectedly happens.
And then he realized that there was another feeling taking shape in his mind, one that he had hoped he would not have to deal with ever again.
Chapter Two
Pete loosened his tie. In his haste to leave the dance he had forgotten that he even had one on. Now, sitting in the darkness at the place he often ran to for refuge, he suddenly remembered that he had it on. After unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, he pulled the tie off and sat it down on the ground beside him.
Ties, he thought to himself. What's the point?
Leaning back and resting his palms against the cold ground, he suddenly remembered where he had gotten it. It was about a month ago, and he was at Tyler's house. Ever since that time that Pete helped Tyler score an "A" on that essay for Biology class, the two of them had become great friends. Tyler introduced Pete to everyone, and being Tyler's friend seemed to change everyone's attitude about him. Tyler was one of the more popular kids at school, so Pete found himself hanging around with everyone, from the teachers' pets to the football jocks. And for the first time since he had moved Pete was beginning to feel like everything was changing for the better. In fact, he found himself staying over after school to hang out with Tyler after football practice. The season was nearing the end, and it looked like the team would be heading for the play offs because they had done so well during the entire season, losing only one game. So almost every evening after school the coach had the team drill every possible play in the hopes of bringing home the championship for the first time in the schools history. Naturally, Tyler had to be there.
So Pete would hang around after school and sit in the bleachers at the football field, watching the football players run plays until evening came. Then he and Tyler would usually walk over to one or the others house for dinner. In fact, Pete's mother had become accustomed to Pete being at Tyler's almost all of the time, and when Tyler was at Pete's he was treated like a member of the family.
One afternoon after football practice, Tyler asked Pete to walk over to his house with him and check out his new computer. "I'm not good with stuff like that," Tyler said, "and I might need some help with it."
"Sure," Pete said. "But I'm not a computer guru either you know." He smiled as he remembered getting the highest score in the computer class at school.
"Yeah, right," Tyler answered. "Like you're not." Tyler playfully slapped his hand against Pete's arm, and then grinned. Opening the latch to the gate around the football field, Tyler let both of them out, and then shut the gate behind him. "Come on," he said. "We don't have all night you know."
When they got to Tyler's house Pete noticed that both of his parents cars where gone. "Where's everyone at?" he asked as Tyler reached under the mat for a key.
"I think mom is gone to some meeting, and you know dad. No telling when he'll be home." Tyler's dad was a contractor, and more often than not he was out of town supervising various jobs that he had going.
Tyler opened the door, and reached down to put the key back under the mat. The inside of Tyler's house was always neat, and the furniture was obviously not bought at a thrift store. Beautiful full-length mirrors hung on the wall behind dark brown tables and chairs. They walked through the living room to the stairs, and Pete followed Tyler up to his bedroom, a route he had taken many times in the last few weeks. Tyler walked in first, with Pete close behind.
Tyler's room was in stark contrast to the rest of the house. Neatness was not one of Tyler's priorities, and the evidence was everywhere. Yesterday's shirt was hanging off of the bedpost, and his video games filled the floor next to his bed. Posters of various sports heroes hung precariously on the walls, some of them very close to falling off. His bed appeared to not have been made up in many days, and the covers were flung towards the foot of it. Next to the far wall sat a desk, and on the desk was his new computer that his dad had shipped from one of his job sites. Pete always thought that Tyler's dad tried to make up for his lack of attention by buying Tyler all the latest gadgets. All season he had not been able to make a single football game and the computer was his way of making up for it. Tyler pretended to be appeased by it, but Pete knew that wasn't the case.
Tyler shut the door behind them and walked over to the bed. He sat down and kicked his shoes off towards the wall beside his bed, adding to the black marks already apparent there. Pete walked over to the desk and sat in the chair in front of the computer.
"You already got it hooked up?" Pete asked, as he looked the system over.
Tyler took off his socks, threw them in the same general location as his shoes, and lifted up his shirt to take it off. "Well," he said as his face disappeared behind the shirt, "I did my best." After removing his shirt he stood up and walked over to the desk and stood behind Pete.
Pete reached down and found the power button, pushed it in, and watched as nothing appeared on the screen.
"You see, I told you," Tyler said, laughing as he said it.
"Well I would have thought that you could have at least got the power connected." Pete grinned as he reached behind the computer and found the power plug. Leaning over he found the outlet on the wall and plugged it in. The computer made a roaring sound as the fan came on, and the screen flashed a message, indicating that it was booting up.
Tyler half-heartedly pushed Pete on the back. "Nope," he said, "that's what I have you for."
"Good thing I'm here then." Pete said as his fingers danced across the keyboard.
"Yeah," Tyler said. "I always new I'd find a use for you somehow."
Pete looked up in the mirror on the wall behind the computer to see Tyler grinning from ear to ear. It was the way he always looked, and Pete could not remember too many times that Tyler wasn't grinning about something. He just always seemed to be in a good mood.
"Well," Tyler continued, "looks like you have everything under control here. I'm going to take a shower." He then turned around and headed for his bathroom.
Pete watched Tyler in the mirror as he walked towards the open bathroom door then walk inside. He could hear him open the towel closet inside the bathroom, take out a towel, and then he shut the towel closet door. He could just barely catch a glimpse of him as he leaned over the sink to take out his contacts. Isn't he going to shut the door, Pete thought to himself? Then Tyler's pants came flying out of the bathroom, landing on his bed beside two or three other pairs that had been there for the last two days. This was followed by the slamming of the bathroom door and then the sound of water running in the shower.
Surely Tyler didn't notice me staring at him, Pete thought to himself. Recovering himself somewhat, Pete tried to redirect his thoughts toward the computer screen in front of him, but his attention kept getting diverted back to the bathroom door, and sounds of Tyler obviously enjoying a long shower.
Visibly frustrated with himself, Pete got up from the desk and started to walk towards the bedroom door. If he was that way when Tyler went into the bathroom how would he be when he came out in only a towel, he thought to himself? Thinking that it would be better if he just weren't in the room when Tyler came out, he began to maneuver his way between the various objects on the floor, almost tripping on a video game as he neared the bedroom door. What a pig Tyler is, he uttered to himself.
He reached over to open the door but something on the dresser caught his attention. He reached over and picked it up. It was a tie, and it looked like it had never been worn. It still had the price tag on it, $19.95.
What in the world would Tyler be doing with a tie, Pete thought to himself? In all the time he had known him, he had never seen Tyler in anything except cut offs and a tee shirt, much less anything that would necessitate wearing at tie.
Pete looked closer at the tie. It was dark green with light green and silver stripes. It felt like silk, but he was sure that it wasn't real silk, not for $19.95 anyway. Pete was so deep in thought that he didn't hear Tyler come out of the bathroom and walk up behind him
"What you looking at?" Tyler said, peering over Pete's left shoulder. "Oh man! You found it," he said, seeing the tie in Pete's hand.
Pete turned around with the tie in his hand. Tyler stood in front of him with a very disappointed look on his face, dressed only in a towel. His hair was still dripping wet, and there were water beads all over him. Pete tried not to stare.
"Found what?" Pete asked. "What are you doing with a tie dude? You never wear them." He rubbed the soft material between his fingers as he spoke.
Ignoring the question, Tyler turned around and walked to his dresser. Opening one of the drawers, he removed a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, leaving the drawer open. He started to reach down and undo the knot that held the towel on him.
Pete almost panicked. Surely he's not going to drop his towel in front of me! He thought. He almost dropped the tie from his hands.
But instead Tyler turned around and walked back into the bathroom, taking his clothes with him.
Pete felt incredibly relieved. He wondered what had made Tyler change his mind, but it didn't matter now. His attention went back to the tie.
"So who's is this?" Pete said, loud enough so that Tyler could hear him.
A moment passed and then finally Tyler answered back from inside the bathroom, "It's yours."
"Mine?" Pete said, in a confused tone of voice.
Tyler walked out of the bathroom dressed in the cut offs and tee shirt, still combing his hair. "Yeah," he continued. "You weren't supposed to get it yet. It's for your birthday you know."
"My birthday?" Pete said.
"Yeah dude. Your mom told me." Tyler turned around and walked back into the bathroom.
Pete couldn't believe it. "But why a tie?" he said, having to speak over the sound of Tyler brushing his teeth.
Tyler's head appeared in the doorway, toothpaste running down his chin. "Because," he said, pausing in mid brush, "it's so you," emphasizing the word "so" for effect. Then he grinned and continued brushing, his head disappearing back into the bathroom.
Pete didn't know what to say. He just stood still, listening to the sound of water running from inside the bathroom. Finally, it got quiet, and Tyler came out of the bathroom wiping off his mouth with a towel. He flung it back into the bathroom where it landed somewhere on the floor.
"Don't you like it?" Tyler walked over and sat down on the corner of the bed facing Pete. "Your mom said that green was your favorite color."
"Well sure I do," Pete said, trying not to let his cracking voice give away how he felt. He was about to cry, and he knew it.
"Well, put it on then," Tyler leaned back on the bed, using his palms to support himself.
Pete took the tie and brought it around behind his head. He had tied many ties before, and it wasn't no time until he had it perfectly wrapped around his neck.
Tyler pulled his hair out of his eyes, laying it over to the side. "There, a perfect Connecticut knot!" he said grinning.
Pete laughed as he adjusted the knot. "Yes, it 'tis," he said, exaggerating his northern accent. When he had it just right he looked up to see Tyler still reposed on his bed, lying almost on his back. Aware that his feelings were starting to head in the wrong direction, he quickly walked back over to the desk and looked in the mirror on the wall behind it. He smiled at himself as he admired the tie.
"You really like it?" Tyler asked as he got up off of the bed.
Pete thought for a second. Then he turned around and faced Tyler. "I think it's the best tie I have ever wore. Thanks," he said, his voice beginning to crack a little.
"Ah, you're not going to start crying on me are you?" Tyler asked half seriously. He was not to be too emotional about things. "Well," he simply added, "you're welcome. Happy early birthday." He started for the door, but then he turned around adding, "Just don't tell anyone who got it for you ok?" A big smile came to his face.
Pete laughed. "Ok, sure. Not a soul." Starting for the door he continued, "Especially Rick, Paul, and all of those other jocks on the team eh?" He came up behind Tyler and shoved him lightly.
"Yeah, especially them," Tyler laughed. "Now come on," he said heading down the stairs, "let's go get something to eat."
Pete followed a few steps behind. Suddenly Tyler started to race toward the stairs, calling back to Pete, "Come on, your tie looks hungry!"
Pete laughed as reached the staircase, and then both of them headed for the kitchen.
Pete reached down and picked up the tie that lay on the ground beside him. He rubbed the soft material between his fingers, and smiled.
To be continued...