David Clarke

Scarface and the Alien

Chapter One

Monday March 17th

It's not easy being a genius.

Well, okay, maybe 'genius' is overstating it a bit. You can call it 'bright' or 'clever' if you prefer. My mother usually calls me 'gifted'… anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

My name is Martin Gillespie and I'm twelve years old. This is my journal. I decided to keep one because I think it'll be interesting to look back at it when I'm famous… if I live that long.

We have just moved here from London. 'Here' is a village in Kent, and it's completely different to living in London, where there was always lots going on and you could hear sirens even in the middle of the night. Of course, that's mainly why my mother wanted to move: she was convinced I'd end up getting murdered if we stayed in London. Probably that's not true – after all, we lived in a fairly good area, and because I don't go to school I quite often went three or four days without leaving the house. But at least once every two or three weeks there was a story on the news about some boy or other getting stabbed or shot in London, and in the end she just decided that she didn't want me growing up 'in a place like that'.

To be honest I think I prefer it here. Because we've only just moved I don't have any friends, but that's fine because I didn't have any friends in London either. Like I said, I'm home schooled, mainly because my mother doesn't think there are any schools that could keep me engaged. Home schooling is fine by me: I learn stuff I would never learn at school, and I don't waste time learning stuff that's never going to be of any use to me. Besides, I'd have problems if I went to school: when I used to go to primary school – until my mother withdrew me when I was nine – the other kids used to think I was weird because I didn't think the way they did, and because I'm not interested in football or pop music (I mean the plastic commercial stuff that gets played on most radio stations) or rubbishy reality TV programmes. And I used to think (and still do) that the other kids were boring and shallow and, frankly, thick. I don't need friends like that.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a friend, or at least someone to play with. At other times I don't think I need friends at all: I'm usually perfectly happy on my own. Which is just as well, because the chances of meeting a boy of my own age with an IQ like mine (my mother says it's 158, and I suppose she should know), are almost non-existent, and I can't imagine that I'd be able to interact properly with someone less intelligent than I am. All the same, sometimes I wish…

That's one of the reasons I said at the start of this entry that it's not easy being a genius: it can be lonely. Not often: as I said, I'm generally happy being on my own. But just occasionally I wish I was just another normal kid, with an average IQ, happy to kick a ball around with other kids…

But really that's a stupid way to think. After all, being brainy means that I've got a far better chance of doing something useful with my life than most kids have: there's no reason why I should ever end up stacking shelves at Tesco's or sweeping the streets. I'm not really sure what I want to do yet, and my mother says I don't need to make a firm decision yet, anyway: for now I just need to follow the obvious path of GCSEs, A levels, Oxford and then a PhD. By then I should have a good idea of what I want to be.

Of course she also wants me to be good enough at music to be able to use that as a career if I want to, which is why I spend a couple of hours a day practising the piano. Not that I really need to practise that much, because for some reason I seem able to play almost by instinct sometimes, at least when I'm improvising. I love classical music, especially Bach, but I also like a lot of contemporary music. My mother doesn't like me listening to metal – not even symphonic metal – so I have to wear headphones when I use the player in my room, or stick to using the pocket CD player, but I improvise on it sometimes during my piano practice. It seems to speak to me, somehow.

So, what else should I say about the twelve-year-old me? Well, I'm four feet eleven inches [1.50 m] tall and I weigh a little under six stone [38 kg], which makes me sort of skinny. I've got mid-brown hair which I wear fairly long – it covers my ears, anyway – and blue eyes, and my mother says I'm really good-looking, though I suppose all mothers say that about their kids. I play chess quite well and I'm learning to play bridge, but I'm no good at any physical games because I never get a chance to practise (even if I wanted to) and because I'm skinny and a bit lacking in muscles. I do quite a lot of walking, though, and I suppose now we're living in the country I'll be able to do some cycling, too – my mother never liked me cycling in London because of the traffic.

I keep talking about 'my mother', not 'my parents', but I do have a father. He's just away a lot, because he works for a firm of international couriers and he's usually off flying round the world delivering confidential documents and stuff like that. My mother used to be a university lecturer before she gave it up to teach me. And I have a younger brother, too, but he has a boringly low IQ – well, okay, 110 isn't actually low except in my terms, but still… Anyway, he's ordinary enough to go to the local primary school. His name is Miles and he's ten years old. We get on okay, but we don't spend a lot of time with each other.

I suppose I should explain that comment in the third paragraph about 'if I live that long'. Well, sometimes I feel as if I don't belong here. I don't just mean in this family, or in this village, but in this world: sometimes I think the kids at primary school who called me 'alien' were right, that I'm a completely different species to everyone else. And sometimes I feel so weird, so alien if you like, that I think I'm a mistake, and that maybe it would be better if I killed myself. I don't know what happens to you after you die – if anything happens at all, that is – but sometimes I think I'd prefer to find out than to hang around somewhere where I don't belong.

But most of the time I think there are still plenty of interesting things to find out about, and so on the whole I think I'll hang around for a little longer. Besides, one of the interesting things that's happening right now is that my body is changing. I don't know a lot about sex – certainly I've never been taught about it, and I'd be far too embarrassed to ask my mother about it. If I had a computer I suppose I could look things up somehow, but my mother has a stone-age view of computers, which she thinks are more dangerous than the North Circular Road in the rush hour, and so she's never been willing to buy us one. And, although I know the basics of how to use a search engine, I am certainly not going to risk typing in sex on the public computers at the library. I've been saving my allowance for a while now, and eventually I'll have enough to buy my own computer, and then things will be a lot easier.

Anyway, for the moment I don't actually know why my penis keeps getting hard, or why I've got some small hairs growing round the base of it, or why I've been having some weird dreams, or why when I'm out shopping I sometimes find myself looking at boys in a whole new way… I can't remember being remotely interested in what other kids looked like when I was at primary school, so I really don't know why I've started thinking that some of the boys I see are particularly good-looking…. probably it's just a phase, or something: either it's normal, and I'm growing up, or it's because I really am weird, like the other kids used to tell me.

So that's me. I'm intending to jot stuff down in this book whenever something interesting happens, so I won't be making an entry every day, as I would if it were a diary. Most days go by without anything interesting happening. But maybe now that we've moved to a new house that will change…

The Easter school holidays had just started. Although Martin was home-schooled he didn't work during the school holidays, unless he actually wanted to (which did happen, mostly because there was nothing else he wanted to do instead). But now that he had a new environment to explore he was happy to leave his studies for a while.

He thought about taking his bike, but then decided that he might as well have a look at the immediate area first, and for that he could stay on foot. So he walked down to the crossroads in the centre of the village and stood there for a moment trying to decide which way to go, before choosing to keep going straight ahead. After about a quarter of a mile [400 m] there was a narrow lane leading off to the left, and so he took that. There was no traffic at all, so he was able to walk along the middle of the lane, enjoying the peace and quiet. There was a tractor off in the distance somewhere, but apart from that he could hear nothing except for the birds singing.

He walked on, not thinking about anything in particular, until finally the lane met a main road. Of course by London standards the traffic on this road was light, but there was no pavement and Martin didn't want to try just walking along the edge of the road, which he didn't think would be safe, especially since in both directions the road disappeared round a sharp bend. However, there was a footpath leading off to his left at the point where the lane met the main road, and that looked an altogether safer option, so he climbed over the stile and set off along the path, which ran past a farmyard and out into a field beyond.

The path led him back in the general direction of the village: it seemed to run parallel with the lane, at least to start with, though gradually it diverged from it.

Martin followed the path for a couple of hundred yards and then realised he needed a pee. There wasn't a soul in sight and he could quite simply have unzipped his jeans and got on with it where he stood, but he didn't feel comfortable doing that. Off to his left was looked like a small copse of trees, so he climbed through the fence and walked in that direction. And when he got there he found that it was actually a dip in the ground, maybe fifteen feet [5 m] deep and fifty yards long by twenty yards wide, with trees growing around the edges. The floor of the dip was largely devoid of vegetation except for a few patches of brambles and nettles, mostly at one end.

He climbed down into the dip and, once he had had his pee, explored it carefully. About halfway along was a tree that was growing out horizontally from the bank, with two trunks, each about four inches [10 cm] in diameter, one about a foot [30 cm] above and a foot [30 cm] to one side of the other. The lower trunk was maybe three feet [90 cm] above the ground.

He climbed up onto it and sat down, resting his arms on the other trunk: it could have been grown that way especially to accommodate him. And there he sat, thinking about this and that, while the afternoon rolled slowly onwards.

Wednesday March 19th

I found a really good place today: it's a sort of depression in the corner of a field, deep enough to be out of the wind and sheltered by trees growing all around the edge of it. Their branches seem to grow most of the way over the top of it, too, which means it might even be quite dry even if it rains a bit. And there's even a place to sit. I think I'll be going back there a lot – it's only about half a mile [8s00 m] from the house, so any time I need to get away for a while it'll be perfect.

I needed to find somewhere like it, and I'm really lucky to have found it so soon after we moved. Our garden in London was quite long, and at the far end was an overgrown area with a large rhododendron bush in the middle, and whenever I wanted to be on my own I used to go and sit in the middle of it. Nobody would bother me there – even Miles was decent about it, never interrupting me if I was out there. Our new garden is smaller and there aren't any bushes, and anyway now I'm a bit older it feels nicer having somewhere away from the house. The only thing I'll have to be careful about is the weather: I don't mind a bit of rain, and as I said, I think the trees would keep most of it off anyway. But I really wouldn't want to get caught that far from home in a thunderstorm…

Miles thinks I'm a baby because I'm scared of storms, but there are good scientific reasons not to like them: there's a terrific amount of power in a lightning bolt, and if one hits you, you're probably dead. Occasionally people get hit and live, but I really don't want to find out what that's like. Okay, maybe it is silly to be scared of them when you're indoors, but I can't help it. And at least I'm not scared of spiders, like Miles is. So, anyway, I'll need to keep an eye on the weather forecast before I go out to the special place in future.

So far the move has gone really well. Of course, I know that things will go wrong sooner or later, because they always do, but maybe it won't happen for a while yet. I hope not, anyway.

Miles Gillespie had been out exploring too, though he had taken his bike. He rode as far as his new school, which was about a mile and a half [2½ km] away in the neighbouring village – and he really liked the idea of being able to ride to school on his own, which was something he would never have been allowed to do in London – and then he rode round to the recreation ground next to the school, where some boys of around his own age were kicking a football about. He watched them for a bit and then asked if he could join in.

"Are you any good?" asked one of the boys, sceptically.

"Not bad."

"Okay, then. You, me and him against those three."

Miles was quite good at football – and, unlike his brother, he really liked the game, too. He always watched matches when they were on the television (Martin usually retired to his bedroom to listen to music when the football came on), and once his father had managed to get tickets to watch Arsenal play in one of the midweek games in the Champions League. It was quite expensive going to watch games live, but he had really enjoyed it. It was one of the few negative things about moving to the country, in fact: it would be a lot harder to get to a real game now they were living so far out of London.

By the time he went home he had made five new friends, four of whom went to his new school, so he reckoned he would know everything he needed to know about it long before the holidays ended. One of the boys, Graham, lived only half a mile [800 m] from the Gillespies' new house and they cycled back as far as Graham's house together. Graham asked if he wanted to come in for while, but Miles said that he had to get home for tea.

"You can come and call for me tomorrow if you like, though," he added. "We can go out on our bikes, and you can show me round a bit."

"Okay. About half-past nine?"

"Okay."

So next morning Graham turned up just after half-past nine. He could hear music coming from inside the house: someone was playing the piano. At first he thought it was a recording, but then the music stopped, went back a bit, played the same short passage a couple of times and then carried on, so clearly it was a real person playing. Graham rang the doorbell, and a half-minute or so later Miles opened the door.

"Who's playing?" Graham asked him.

"Oh, that's just my brother."

"He's good, isn't he?"

"Yes, but that's because he's not human: he's just a weird alien computer done up to look like a human boy. Hey, Mars!" he added, yelling over his shoulder. "Come and meet my friend!"

The music stopped abruptly and Graham saw another boy come into the hall. He was maybe four inches [10 cm] taller than Miles, and his hair was a little darker and straight where Miles's was wavy, and his face was thinner than Miles's. But they had the same blue eyes and slightly upturned nose, which was enough to make it fairly obvious that they were brothers.

"Mars, this is Graham; Graham, this is the alien who pretends to be my brother. I call him Mars, because that's where he probably comes from," Miles added.

"I've told you, Mars is too cold to support life," said Martin, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but you're not really alive, are you? You're just a strange alien computer chip in a plastic body."

"He's not really, is he?" asked Graham, not completely convinced that Miles was joking.

"Well, probably not. He's just got a brain that's too big for his head, that's all. I mean he's okay, as brothers go, but he's strange. He doesn't even like football, do you, Mars?"

"It's a stupid game," confirmed Martin. "I can't see the point."

"Bloody hell, he really is an alien!" exclaimed Graham. "How can anyone not like football?"

"Told you," said Miles. "Anyway, I'll go and get my bike, and then we can go. Sorry for interrupting your practice, Mars, but I thought you'd like to see that people who live here are normal, too. Tell mum I'll be back for lunch."

Martin nodded and went back to his piano, picking up, so far as Graham could tell, from exactly where he had stopped playing. Miles stepped outside, shut the door and led Graham round the side of the house to the garage, where he collected his bike.

"Actually, Mars is okay, even if he is weird," he said. "His real name's Martin, but obviously I never call him that. But he's better than a lot of older brothers: he never pushes me about or bosses me around, or anything like that. And he really is mega-brainy, which is useful if I get homework I can't do. Have you got any brothers or sisters?"

"A little sister. She's a pain, always grassing me up if I do something I shouldn't. That's why I spend as much time out of the house as possible. So – where do you want to go?"

"I don't know – I mean, we only moved here last week. You decide."

"Let's go down to the river, then."

And they got on their bikes and rode away.

Friday March 21st

It's Good Friday today. Not that we go to church, or anything: I don't know if my parents believe in God or not. I think they probably do, it's just that they don't belong to any of the organised churches. I think there's probably a God, too, except… there's nothing about Him creating aliens in the Bible. Perhaps that means that aliens weren't created by God at all: maybe they just evolved on their own.

Of course we really don't know enough about the past at all. I know that some people think aliens visited Earth thousands of years ago – someone wrote a few books about that a long time ago, saying maybe the pyramids were designed by aliens and stuff like that. Other people think that's a lot of rubbish. But I'd like to think there's something in it, because if I really am part alien… well, it would explain a few things.

Anyway, the reason I mentioned it being Good Friday is because it means my father is home for the next four days. That's nice, because we don't see him very often. I like listening to him telling me about the places he's been – it's interesting hearing about other parts of the world. Right now he's out in the garden playing football with Miles. They asked if I wanted to play, but of course I said no. I don't think it's sensible to risk getting hurt playing a stupid game – what if I got hit on the head, or something? I need to protect my brain, because it's the most important part of me.

I went back to the special place again yesterday. I'd thought about taking my CD player, so that I could listen to music while I was there, but then I decided not to: it's nice just being somewhere quiet, with just a few birds singing. I sat on the branch and thought about stuff for a couple of hours, and it felt really good. I might take a book next time, though, because I think it would be nice reading somewhere like that. I like books set in other worlds – not just science fiction, but fantasy as well. In fact I've been thinking about writing a fantasy story myself: I'm sure I could if I tried.

Miles has already made some friends here, so he's happy. I don't know how he does it, but for some reason it seems to come easily to him. I'm not jealous, or anything, because I like being on my own – except that maybe it would be nice to be able to talk about stuff with someone of my own age sometimes, because there are things I'd be embarrassed to talk to my parents about… it is hard being alone sometimes. Of course, I know I'm not the only person who thinks that, because quite a lot of the music I like is about being on your own and stuff like that. Sometimes when I'm feeling particularly alone I think about killing myself, because whatever happens afterwards is probably better than just being stuck on your own in a world where nobody understands you. But I suppose I'm still a bit young to think about that seriously: things might change. I might change, even.

And it's Easter, so there'll be plenty of chocolate eggs to eat on Sunday, and it would be silly to miss out on those. I mean, I know too much chocolate isn't very good for you, but to be honest I really don't care!

There were indeed plenty of chocolate eggs around on the Sunday, which kept both boys happy. Martin spend most of the afternoon in his bedroom, listening, first to Megadeth and then, because he wanted something a little less frenetic, to Anathema. And while he was listening he started writing his fantasy story, about a boy not very different from himself who found a place not very different to the 'special place' but who discovered there was a portal in it that led to another dimension, one where high intelligence was normal and where his alter ego would be treated like a normal person, not like a weird visitor from the Planet Zog…

On the Monday afternoon Miles went back to the recreation ground beside his school, where he had arranged to meet Graham and his friends. This time they went straight into a series of three-a-side games, changing the teams every so often. Of course Miles had done this sort of thing in London, too, but the difference here was that the pitch was on the edge of the village and so next to trees and fields, whereas the small area of grass he and his friends had used in London was surrounded by houses and busy roads. And the other difference was that here all the other players were white, whereas in London his friends had been of several different races. Not that he cared about that: in his book, anyone who could play football was alright by him.

They played for about an hour, and then the other boys went into a huddle while he ran to retrieve the ball from where he had just misdirected it some distance behind the goal, and when he came back Graham said, "Okay, Miles: how good are you at taking penalties?"

"Not bad. Why?"

"Well… we have competitions sometimes, and, now we've seen what you're like… Anyway, we're going to have one now. Okay?"

"Sure. Why shouldn't it be?"

"Well, whoever loses gets a penalty himself."

"What sort of penalty?"

"He has to do ten press-ups."

"Twenty," interrupted one of the others, grinning.

"Okay, twenty press-ups," agreed Graham.

"What's so bad about that?" asked Miles.

"He has to do them stark naked."

"Get lost!" replied Miles. "If you think I'm stripping off here you must be mad – there are houses just over there. Not that I'd lose, of course…"

"You don't have to do them here," Graham told him. "We go round behind the changing-rooms. But I bet you'd be too chicken even to do it there."

"No, I wouldn't. Except, like I said, I'm not going to lose."

"Yeah? We'll see. Who's going first?"

"I don't mind, as long as you know you're all going to get shown up," said Miles, picking up the ball.

So they moved over to the proper goal and Robert put his goalie gloves on and stood between the posts, and Miles set the ball down on the spot, took a short run-up and hammered it into the top corner of the goal.

"Not bad," said Graham. "Fluky, but not bad. Bet you miss the next one, though."

"Bet I don't," said Miles, and he didn't. Altogether he scored four out of five, and then he stepped back to watch the others, feeling confident that with four out of five he wasn't going to come last. And he was right: Graham scored three, Jack scored four, and Jamie and Tom both scored two. They then had a sudden-death shoot-out, which Jamie lost.

"Hang on," protested Jamie, as the other started to herd him towards the changing room, "what about Rob? How come he doesn't have to take penalties?"

"Because I'm the goalie. Goalies don't take penalties," Robert told him.

"Yes, they do – what about that Paraguayan guy, the one with the mad hair? He used to take penalties for the national team, even though he was the keeper."

"Okay, then. I know I'm better than you, anyway," said Robert, removing his gloves and handing them to Jamie. "You'd better go in goal yourself, then you can't whinge about someone else letting my shots in deliberately."

So Jamie put the gloves on and Robert scored three in a row. To be honest he was a bit lucky: the first went in off the post and the second was a complete mis-hit that only went in because Jamie had already dived the wrong way. The third was a decent shot into the bottom corner, however.

"See?" said Robert. "Told you."

Jamie sighed, removed the gloves, handed them back to Robert and walked to the changing room with the others following. There was an open space at the back next to a shed that held the line-marking machine and the mower, and it was sheltered on all sides by the changing-room itself, the shed, a wall and some trees. Jamie stripped off and dropped into the press-up position, but not quickly enough to conceal the fact that he had an erection.

"Jamie's got a stiffy, Jamie's got a stiffy," sang Graham, and the others all joined in.

"Shut up," said Jamie, blushing. "I can't help it. Anyway, you're just jealous because yours are all so small that nobody can tell whether they're stiff or not." And he started to do his press-ups while the others all kept teasing him.

Miles squatted down next to Graham and watched with interest: this was something he'd never done with his friends in London. And Jamie certainly did have a stiff one. It wasn't very big, maybe around three inches [7 cm] long, and he had small balls, too, but his erection jutted away from his body and showed no sign of subsiding while he was doing his press-ups. When he stood up after completing twenty (actually he did twenty-four, but the others wouldn't let him count four of them, which they said he hadn't done properly) it was still really hard, sticking up and out at an angle of about forty-five degrees above the horizontal.

"Satisfied?" he asked, glaring at them with his hands on his hips.

"What do you reckon, Miles? Think we can let him off now?" asked Graham.

"I reckon. He did twenty, anyway. More or less."

"Too right, I did," said Jamie, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on. "There was nothing wrong with the other four, either. You wait till it's your turn, Rob – you know you're crap at press-ups. You'll be trying for hours to manage twenty proper ones."

"Ah, but then I'll never lose, so it'll never be my turn," Robert told him. "Want to come and do some practice? I think you need it."

So Robert and Jamie went back to the goal to practise penalties, and Tom and Jack headed off to Jack's house to play video games.

"We can do that too, if you like," said Graham, picking up his bike. "Have you got time to come back to mine for a bit? I've got some good games."

"Yes, okay," agreed Miles. "I haven't got to be home until six. I mean, I'm not much good because we haven't got a computer. I'm saving up for an Xbox, but right now I can't play anything at home. But I used to go round to a friend's house when we lived in London and play on his, so I'm okay at some games. What have you got?"

Graham told Miles which games he'd got, and Miles had never played any of them. So when they got back to Graham's house and were safely in his bedroom with the door shut (to keep out nosy little sisters) he switched on his PlayStation and scrabbled about in a box under his bed until he found a racing game.

"This isn't too difficult," he said. "You should be able to pick it up fairly quickly."

"Okay – but we're not playing any of those 'loser has to do naked press-ups' games," said Miles, firmly.

"Pity," said Graham, grinning. "I was going to challenge you. Well, okay, maybe we can do that in a couple of weeks' time. I want to see if you've got a big one."

"Well, unlucky, because you'll never get to find out. You'll be the one doing press-ups because I'm invincible… or I will be, once I've learned how to play."

"Yeah, right. Of course, maybe you'll lose at penalties first, and then we'll all get to see."

"Dream on. I think that's a good game, though – I've never done anything like that before."

"I thought you might enjoy it – we all reckoned you'd be ready to join in. Everyone thinks you're a good laugh, and we reckon we can trust you to keep it to yourself, too. Anyway, we've been playing that game for a little while now. It's sort of interesting to see what everyone looks like. It's a pity you weren't here three weeks ago: we talked Tom's older brother into playing. He's a bit of a geek, so we didn't think he'd be much good at penalties, but we all kept calling him 'chicken' until he agreed to have a go. He was good about it, too: he didn't try to argue when he lost, he just went round behind the changing room straight away. He was a bit nervous, but he still did it. And it was interesting because he's thirteen, so he's got some hair. His cock isn't very big – well, it's bigger than most of ours, but then he is two years older – but the hair made it look interesting. It's a pity he didn't go stiff, though, because that would have looked funny.

"Jamie always gets an erection when he strips. I don't know why, it just happens. The rest of us generally manage to keep it under control, though – at least, I have the only time I lost so far. I think we might have to change the rules in future to say that you're not allowed to start your press-ups until it goes stiff – that'll be funnier. And Jamie's bound to think it's a brilliant idea, so he'll definitely vote for it. What about you – you reckon that's a good idea?"

"I don't know. I mean, I've never stripped off in front of people before… but I reckon if the rest of you are ready to do it, I would be, too. And, anyway, I'll never have to do it because I'm class at penalties."

"Great! It's a pity your brother doesn't like football, though, because I like making older boys strip. Has he got hair on his?"

"I've no idea, I haven't seen him undressed for ages. And there's no chance of him ever agreeing to play football, either: plastic robots from Outer Space don't know how to play."

"Pity. Oh, well… look, there's one more person I'd like to talk into playing with us: Rob's got a twin sister, and she does play football – she's pretty good, for a girl. And I think it would be fun making a girl do press-ups. Jack likes the idea, too, but Jamie and Tom aren't really interested in girls, and Robert doesn't want to risk having to strip in front of his sister, so he won't do it, either. What do you think?

"It might be interesting, I suppose, but I don't think girls of our age have much to look at. I mean, usually their tits haven't started growing, and all they have lower down is a slit, and so all girls look the same. At least with boys there are some differences – big, small, long, short, stuff like that. But maybe it would be fun to do it with a girl. Do you think she'd agree?"

"Probably. Like I said, she's not bad at football, and she'd reckon there were six chances that she'd get to see a naked boy and only one chance that she'd lose herself. I'm just not sure we could talk Jamie and Tom into it, though."

"We could always do it when they're not there, and if we let Rob stay in goal there'd be no risk of him losing himself. So it would just be you, me, Jack and the girl. I think I wouldn't mind risking it, anyway."

"Okay. Maybe I'll get Rob to ask her, then. Anyway, let's play: I'll go first, so watch what I do, and then you can have a try, and then we'll have a proper race."

So Miles watched carefully, and quickly he got the hang of it, and he did better in the first actual race than he had dared to hope. By the time he went home he was starting to think that he ought to be able to beat Graham before too long – and then maybe he'd accept the challenge of naked press-ups for the loser…

Monday March 24th

Miles was really happy when he came home this evening – he seems to have some good friends already, and he even said he's looking forward to going to school with them. I don't remember him ever saying he was 'looking forward' to school before…

He also tried to persuade me to go and play football with him and his friends – he said it would be 'fun'. My definition of 'fun' does not include kicking (or trying to kick) a lump of leather between some sticks, and so obviously I said no, and he seemed disappointed. And that made me feel good – not that he was disappointed, of course, but that he'd asked me in the first place. After all, it's not that often that Miles asks me to do stuff with him.

So he's obviously glad we've moved. I thought it would be harder for him, because of course he had friends in London that he had to say goodbye to, whereas I didn't – it really doesn't make much difference to me where I live. But he seems to have found replacements really quickly, which is good. Okay, he teases me a lot, but he's really not a bad kid, so I'm glad he's settling in.

And I like it here, too: it's quiet, and probably the air is a lot cleaner, so it's healthier, too. And I can go for walks without worrying about getting mugged, and I can ride my bike without having huge lorries missing me by two centimetres. This seems a really good place.

I've written about six pages of my story today. That's about the one thing I'd need to make this place absolutely perfect: if I could find a real portal through to a world where everyone is like me it would be brilliant. Maybe there really is one – maybe the idea came to me when I was in the special place because I was picking up something that actually exists. Next time I'm there I'm going to have to search it really thoroughly, because if there is a way to find someone else like me I really have do everything I can to find it…

Well, now you've met Martin and his brother. Miles is clearly settling in quickly, and even though Martin is still spending most of his time on his own, he seems to be enjoying the change of scenery, too. In the next chapter Miles's new friends start to teach him a bit about sex, and Martin's life becomes a little more confusing…

Chapter Two

In this chapter Miles starts school and makes a new friend, and he also starts playing some interesting new games. And he's quick to try out what he's learning on his brother, too…

By the end of the week Miles had decided that moving had definitely been an excellent idea. He'd argued against it when it had first been suggested, mainly because he didn't want to have to leave all his friends, but he was already sure that he would make new friends here really easily – indeed, he already thought that Graham was going to be as important a friend as any that he had had in London. Plus, the new lot were really interesting, especially when it came to doing things you weren't supposed to.

He'd enjoyed the penalty game, which he'd found really exciting: he'd never done anything like that before, and now he was eagerly looking forward to playing it again. He thought he wouldn't even mind too much if he lost – after all, there was nothing wrong with his body, and he reckoned he was bigger where it counted than Jamie, at least, so there was no reason for him to feel ashamed.

He wasn't sure about getting Robert's sister involved, though: while he wasn't worried about other boys looking at him, he thought being undressed in front of a girl would be really embarrassing. And he wasn't that bothered about seeing a girl undressed – as he'd told Graham, he didn't think there was much to look at until they got a bit older. He thought it would be much funnier to make Graham strip. Though maybe he could do that anyway, if he got good enough at the racing game to challenge him…

It was strange: he'd never really thought too much about anything to do with sex before. He'd had the usual Health and Relationships class at school, but it hadn't seemed all that important at the time. But somehow watching Jamie doing his press-ups with an erection had awoken something inside him, and now he was keen to investigate further.

He'd been out for bike rides with Graham a couple of times, exploring the local area a bit and even riding into the nearest large town, about five miles [8 km] away. This had quite a good shopping centre, as well as a cinema and most of the usual fast food restaurants, so obviously he wasn't quite as far from civilisation as he had first feared: it was only about twenty minutes away by bike, or there was a direct bus every hour.

On the Friday morning Graham took him on another long bike ride, then back to his house for lunch, and after they had eaten he took Miles up to his bedroom, closed the door and turned on the PlayStation.

"Okay," he said, "are you ready for a proper challenge today?"

"You mean we're going to do this properly, and the loser has to…?"

"Yep. Unless you're chicken, of course."

"I'm not chicken, it's just… well, you've been playing this game for ages longer than me."

"Not really – I only got it for Christmas. And, anyway, you actually beat me last time."

"Only 'cos you kept crashing."

"So? That happens sometimes. So, you chicken, or what?"

"Okay. But next time we're going to have to play something I'm good at. Apart from penalties, of course: we already know I'm better than you at those."

"You wish. Okay, let's race. Loser has to do ten press-ups but then stay naked for half an hour afterwards."

"What?!"

"Chicken! Chick, chick, chick, chick, CHICKEN!"

"Okay, then. But if I win you're going to be in so much trouble."

"Like that's gonna happen. Come on, then."

So they raced, and Miles wasn't entirely surprised to discover that Graham's strange clumsiness, which had led to him crashing five times during their previous race, had completely disappeared today. Nonetheless he had picked up the game quite well by now, and he ran Graham a lot closer than he had expected. But he still came second.

"Oh, dear," said Graham, grinning at him. "Now you're for it."

"Best of three?"

"No chance. Get them off."

Graham went and wedged his chair under the door handle, just to make absolutely sure that his sister couldn't walk in on them, and then sat on the bed, grinning expectantly. Miles sighed, stood up and began to get undressed, and as he unbuttoned his shirt he started to get an erection. Now that was a bit embarrassing, and he wondered why it was happening – although at the same time he realised that it would make it look nice and big, and somehow he didn't mind that idea too much.

He stripped to his pants and then turned round, but Graham wasn't prepared to let him get away with that.

"No hiding!" he said. "You have to face me so I can see."

"Well, okay then," said Miles, pulling his pants off and starting to turn to face him. "But it's just going to make you jealous."

He faced Graham and then stood with his hands at his side so that Graham could have a proper look.

"Wow, Miles, that's pretty big," said Graham, leaning forward to have a proper look. "How long is it?"

"I don't know, I've never measured."

Graham went and picked up a ruler from his desk and held it alongside Miles' erection.

"Ten and a quarter centimetres [4 1/16 inch]," he reported. "That's not bad – how old are you?"

"Ten," said Miles. "I'll be eleven in July."

"Wow, you're younger than me, then – I'll be eleven next month. And you've got quite big balls, too."

"Do you think so? I mean, I've never really looked at anyone else – except Jamie last time we played – so I don't know if mine are big or not."

"I think they are. Can I see what they feel like?"

Miles wasn't sure about that – being touched there by another boy seemed a bit… well, weird. But then he sort of shrugged mentally – after all, he didn't think Graham was likely to hurt him.

"Go on, then," he said.

Graham gently cupped Miles's balls in his hand, and Miles gasped, because it tickled. Graham stroked them a little and then did the same thing to Miles's erection, making it twitch. And that felt strange, too, but it was a nice sort of strange.

"You know," said Graham, holding Miles's balls in one hand and his erection in the other, "I could make you do anything I wanted now, because if you refused I'd just pull everything off and make you into a girl. I could make you swear to obey me for ever, or force you to promise to play naked next time we play football, even if Robyn plays. You'd be so embarrassed…"

He let go. "Obviously I won't, though," he said. "You don't do stuff like that to your mates. Besides, you might beat me up. Obviously I'm stronger than you, so you couldn't, but you might try, and then I'd have to hurt you."

"You couldn't hurt a fly."

"Yeah?" said Graham, pushing him onto the bed and jumping on top of him. "Let's find out!"

"That's not fair!" said Miles, grabbing his wrists. "You've got all your clothes on!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

They wrestled for a bit, but Graham was on top to start with, and once he'd put his knee against Miles's balls and threatened to ram it up hard Miles stopped struggling and surrendered.

"Next time we'll see how you do when you haven't got any clothes on," he said, sitting up as soon as Graham got off him.

"You'll have to beat me at racing first. Come on, let's have another race. And don't forget: you're not allowed to get dressed for another twenty-four minutes."

Scowling, Miles sat next to him and picked up the controller, and for a while he thought he was actually going to win this one. And it was obvious from the way Graham was muttering rude words under his breath as he jabbed at his controller that this time he wasn't trying to lose. But two laps from the finish he managed to overtake Miles once more, and he held on to the slight lead until he crossed the finishing line.

"You lucky bastard!" commented Miles.

"I was, a bit," admitted Graham. "But you still lost. So that's another thirty minutes before you're allowed to get dressed. And now it's time for the press-ups, I think – and it'll have to be twenty, because you didn't actually do the first lot. Except you can't start yet because it's gone soft, and you have to have a stiffy to do press-ups."

"Who says?"

"Me. Lie on the bed."

So Miles lay on his back on the bed and Graham came and sat beside him. And then he started touching Miles's groin, but using only very quick, fleeting brushes of his finger. He slid his fingers up the inside of the top of Miles's thighs, right next to his balls, but without quite touching them; he gave a quick, feather-light stroke to each ball and to the tip of Miles's foreskin; he scratched very lightly with a fingernail on either side of the base of Miles's penis. And he broke off from doing that to caress each of Miles's nipples, too, before starting the cycle again.

It only took about thirty seconds for Miles's body to start to respond, and within a minute his penis was pointing up stiffly once more. Graham went on caressing it for another half-minute or so, and Miles found himself actually liking it: it felt exciting, somehow. He was disappointed when Graham stopped and stood up.

"That's better," Graham told him. "Now it's nice and big again. Now you can do your press-ups."

"How did you learn to do that?" Miles asked him.

"Well… look, you swear not to tell anyone?"

"Of course – we're friends, aren't we?"

"Well, obviously. But…"

"Look, if I can trust you to hold my balls, I reckon you can trust me to keep your secrets – or don't you think so?"

"Of course I do. Sorry, Miles. Well, it was Tom who showed me how to do that. And he learned it from Kevin – that's his brother, the one we told you about, who we made do nudey press-ups. Seems Kevin does it to him sometimes. I don't know where Kevin learned it, though. Anyway, sometimes me and Tom play strip games, and last time he beat me he made mine go hard, just to see what it looked like. And that's how he did it. He says it works every time, and it does seem to – wouldn't you say?" And Graham flicked the tip of Miles's erection, making it quiver. "So: twenty press-ups, I think."

So Miles dropped to the carpet and did twenty press-ups. Graham just let him do the first ten in peace, and then he started to distract him by prodding Miles's erection with his ruler or using it to deliver a light blow to his buttocks. Miles managed to ignore this and carry on, but when he finished he stood up and glared at his friend.

"You just wait till it's your turn," he said. "I'll stick pins in your bum, or put a hedgehog under your balls so every time you drop down you get a load of quills in you. Or something like that."

"I like that idea. I'll have to try to catch a hedgehog before the next time you come round."

"In that case I hope they're all still hibernating. Okay, I'm not risking racing you again, otherwise I'll end up having to stay naked all day. Got any cards?"

Graham produced a pack from his cupboard.

"Can you play crib?" Miles asked.

"No. How do you play that?"

"I'll show you." And for the next ten minutes or so Miles explained the rules of cribbage, and then they played five or six hands to give Graham the idea of how it went in practice. And then Miles asked for a pen and a piece of paper.

"Now we'll do it properly," he said. "First one to 121 wins. Normally you have a board to keep the score on – we've got a couple at home, so I'll have to remember to bring one next time I come – but you can just do it on paper. Obviously some of this game is luck, but there's a lot of skill, too. We quite often play at home. Today we'll just play that the loser has to strip – if it's you – or stay stripped, if it's me, and do press-ups, but once you get good at it – and it doesn't take too long to learn – we can play a forfeit for every five points, or a minute of forfeits for every point. So if you reach 121 while I'm on 108 I'd get thirteen minutes when I'd have to do whatever you said."

"That sounds like fun," said Graham, grinning again. "I'll have to start thinking up some good forfeits. Okay, let's play – but today it's just win and lose, like you said."

"Right. Cut for deal."

Miles won the cut and dealt the first hand. As he'd said, there is a certain amount of skill knowing what to keep and what to put in the box, and playing the cards out calls for some skill, too. But luck also plays a big part, and pretty soon Graham was actually ahead.

"I like this game," he said. "I think if you lose again I might have to make you stay bare until you go home – after all, three losses in a row does deserve punishing."

"Okay," agreed Miles, rather rashly.

Gradually he caught up, and then had one spectacular hand that scored twenty-four, and after that Graham stopped teasing him. And in the end Miles won by eight points.

"Come on, then," he said, triumphantly, "let's see what you've got."

"Okay. But you're still not allowed to get dressed for another…" Graham checked his watch. "…sixteen minutes."

He stood up, put the cards away and then got undressed. It didn't look very big at first, because it was soft.

"Come here," ordered Miles. "I have to make it go hard, remember?"

"Okay, but then I'm going to make yours go hard again, too."

"Fair enough."

So Graham lay on the bed and Miles sat down beside him and started to do what Graham had done to him, little feather-light touches, short, gentle caresses and so on, and in far less than a minute Graham was fully erect. The interesting thing was that Miles's own penis went stiff at the same time, even though neither of them was touching it.

"Now let's see how big it is," said Miles, grabbing the ruler from the bedside table and grinning: he could already see that Graham's was smaller than his.

"You don't need to do that," said Graham, trying to sit up.

"Oh, yes, I do," said Miles, pushing him back down again and holding the ruler alongside. "Eight and a half centimetres [3⅜ inch]. So, which of us is bigger?"

"Shut up!"

"Answer the question!" demanded Miles, taking hold of Graham's balls and squeezing gently.

"Okay, you are."

"I can't hear you."

"You are, you bastard!" shouted Graham.

"And don't you forget it," said Miles, letting go and helping Graham to stand up. And Graham grabbed him and tried to push him over, and Miles clung on, and for a couple of minutes they wrestled inconclusively, rolling around on the floor.

Eventually Miles ended up on top, but he just pinned Graham down without trying to force a submission.

"This is a really good laugh," he said. "Do you and the others do this sort of thing a lot?"

"Not really. I've played strip games with Tom a couple of times, that's all. But you're right, it is a good laugh. Maybe we'll have to see if the others would like to join in. I reckon Jamie would, for a start, and maybe Rob. I'm not sure about Jack – I mean, he talks about girls a lot. But we could try. Can you play crib with more than two players?"

"You can have three or four, but if you have four then you play with partners, so it's two against two. Wouldn't it be easier just to beat them all at racing?"

"I'm not sure I could: they've all got either an Xbox or a PlayStation. I'd have to find a really hard game that none of them have got."

"Make sure you teach me to play before we challenge them, then."

"Depends if you get off me now."

So Miles stood up and helped Graham to his feet. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Graham grabbed his boxers. "Let's get dressed," he said. "Then I'll have a look through my games and see if we can find something nice and complicated…"

Monday March 31st

Back to school today. Obviously in my case that doesn't actually mean leaving the house, but Miles set off this morning looking more enthusiastic about school than I have ever seen him. I think being allowed to ride to school on his own is a lot to do with it: it makes him feel grown-up. It's almost all on country lanes where there are hardly any cars, so it should be safe, and he's meeting his new friend Graham before he gets anywhere near the short section that's on a slightly busier road, so they will be able to look after each other.

My mother is talking about buying a small shed for the garden for me to use for my science experiments – especially chemistry. She doesn't really want me mixing chemicals in the house, not because she doesn't trust me – she knows I know what I'm doing – but because it sometimes produces some pretty nasty smells. I really like the idea of having my own laboratory even if it's really just a garden shed. And maybe if it's really going to be my lab she'll let me put up my music posters there – she won't let me have them up in my bedroom. She particularly objected when I put up the Cradle of Filth poster, which I thought was a bit unfair – after all, it's my room. And their music is really great, even if my mother doesn't like their name.

I've got my bedroom set out just how I want it now, with my desk just next to the window, so I get plenty of natural light. I don't want to damage my eyes by straining them – everyone thinks you have to wear glasses if you're brainy, and I want to prove that isn't true.

I generally work until about five o'clock, so I would probably have time to go back to the special place after I finish work, but I'm going to wait until the weekend. I want to have time to have a proper search for the portal. And I think if I go there too often, maybe it won't seem quite so special. I think I want to keep it for weekends, or for really important occasions.

Miles rode to Graham's house and knocked for him, and then they rode on together to the school. They had time for a quick kick-about in the playground – though they had to use a tennis ball, because footballs weren't allowed – and then the bell went and they went inside. Miles had to go to the head teacher's office first to make sure all of his details had been recorded completely, and then the secretary took him to his new form-room. His teacher said hello to him and then told the class that Miles had just moved from London, and she was sure everyone would make him feel welcome.

Of course Miles already knew four of his fellow-students, and he had hoped that maybe there would be a spare seat next to one of them. But Graham was sitting next to Robert, and Jamie and Jack were sitting together, so it obviously wasn't going to be possible. In fact, the only spare seat – next to a boy, anyway: he really didn't want to start out sitting next to a girl – was at the back of the class, next to a skinny, ugly-looking boy with untidy black hair, pale skin, blue eyes, protruding ears and a big overbite.

Oh, well, Miles thought, at least sitting next to that is going to make me look even better-looking than I really am. So he dumped his bag on the floor next to his desk and sat down.

"Hello," said his neighbour. "I'm Twitch."

"I'm Miles… Twitch? Is that your surname? Do we have to use surnames here?"

"No. My name's Noel, but nobody calls me that. I'll tell you about it later – if one of the others doesn't first."

So Miles's first day at his new school got under way. He discovered that his old school was a little behind this one in maths – here they were already doing geometry, which was completely new to him. But in other subjects he found he was ahead of his new colleagues.

During the lunch break he did a little more kicking about with Graham and his other friends.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to find you a seat next to one of us," Graham told him. "We did ask, but Miss Steadman said we couldn't change places. So you're stuck with Twitch. Unlucky."

"What's wrong with Twitch?"

"Apart from looking like his face hit a bus, you mean? Well, he has fits. Only short ones, usually, because he takes stuff to control it, but occasionally he has a big one. That's why there's a big area of empty floor next to his chair, just in case. He got through the whole of last term without needing it, so the stuff he takes usually works."

"Oh. Is he dangerous?"

"No, of course not! Why should he be dangerous?"

"I mean, am I likely to get hit in the face, if he starts flailing his arms about or something?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Usually he just seems to go into a trance for a few seconds and sits there twitching a bit. And he usually knows if he's about to have a big one, so it gives him time to get on the floor. You'll be safe enough."

"Oh. Okay."

"They told you, then," said Twitch at the start of afternoon school.

"Yes, but they said you were okay most of the time. I mean, you are, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes. Just don't flash bright lights in my face."

Miles didn't know if he was joking or not, so he didn't say anything. He thought it was unlikely he'd be doing anything with bright lights, anyway.

At the end of the day he rode home thinking that, apart from the maths – which Martin could always help him with – he was going to be fine at his new school. He didn't even have very much homework…

Saturday April 5th

It's raining. It's been raining since Thursday night, on and off: according to the weather forecast there's a depression in the North Sea, which is bringing down a cold airstream from the north, and it isn't likely to move very far until early next week. It doesn't bother me that much, though it meant my mother had to take Miles to school by car yesterday. But it's stopped me from going out to the special place today, and it looks as if I won't be able to go tomorrow, either. And that's really frustrating, because the longer I wait the more certain I am that I'll find something really exciting there.

I might even risk going tomorrow if it isn't raining too hard, though I'll have to sneak out, because my mother worries about my health and she won't let me out if she thinks I'll catch cold. And I certainly won't risk it if there's any chance of a storm – and the weather forecast tonight did say thunderstorms were likely. If that happens I'll just stay at home and try to write a bit more of my story.

The weather forecast was right, and half an hour or so after Martin went to bed that Saturday night a thunderstorm started. He slept through the first couple of rolls of thunder, but the third one was much louder and woke him up. For a couple of minutes he huddled under the bedclothes, trying to convince himself that he was perfectly safe, that he was inside a solid house and so was in no danger of being struck by lightning. But a couple more flashes outside the window, hotly followed by loud claps of thunder, proved too much, and his logic vanished in the face of a more primitive fear.

He jumped out of bed and ran to his brother's room, which was right next to his. He knocked and then went straight in, and Miles rolled over in bed to face him.

"You okay, Mars?" he asked, sleepily.

Martin shook his head, and a further thunderclap made him flinch visibly.

In the past Miles had always been willing to help Martin to cope with his phobia, and he still was now. But as he woke up properly he realised that this was an opportunity to push his newly-acquired interest a little further.

"Do you want to come in with me?" he asked.

Martin nodded.

"Well, okay. But I bet you've wet yourself, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't!" answered Martin, indignantly: it was at least two years since he'd been scared enough to wet himself in a thunderstorm.

"Well, I'm not risking it. Take your pyjamas off."

"What! Oh, come on, Miles…"

"I mean it, Mars: I'm not having your wet trousers making my sheets all soggy. If you want to share, take your pyjamas off."

"No! Come on, Miles, that's not fair!"

"Suit yourself," said Miles, pretending to roll over to go back to sleep. And an opportune thunderclap outside the window finished the job.

"Okay!" agreed Martin, frantically. "Okay, I'll take them off!"

He pulled his pyjama trousers off. He wasn't wearing a jacket: he never did, because he found them uncomfortable. He moved about a lot in bed, and if he did wear a jacket it always got twisted round. So once his trousers were off he was naked, and he clasped his hands over his groin and moved towards the bed.

"Just a moment," said Miles, grabbing his torch and turning it on. "Let me see: I want to make sure there isn't a drop of pee hanging off the end."

Martin opened his mouth to argue, but then decided there was no point. He moved his hands, allowing his brother to shine the torch onto his genitals.

"Okay," said Miles, after about five seconds, "you're dry. Come on in."

And he made room for Martin to get into bed beside him, and Martin climbed in quickly, pulled the covers over them and huddled up against his brother. Miles put an arm round him and held him.

"It's okay, Mars," he said, "You're safe here. If you've annoyed some alien god somehow he can't zap you now without zapping me, too, and no god would want to zap me because I'm a hero. Besides, lightning can't hit you inside a house."

"A bolt could come through the window."

"I don't think so. Anyway, lightning usually aims at metal, doesn't it? And there's no metal here… well, I suppose your alien brain could be part-metal, but it's probably some weird metal that lightning doesn't like. So you're safe, okay?"

"Yes, but…"

"Trust me," said Miles, hugging him. "And even if I'm wrong, at least it means we'll be going wherever you go next together, won't we? So we can look after each other. So relax, okay?"

So Martin tried to relax, and Miles held him tight and did his best to reassure him. And gradually Martin managed to calm down a bit, and the gaps between the lightning and the thunder grew longer as the centre of the storm moved away, until at last the thunder stopped. Martin relaxed completely and then made to get out of bed, but Miles pulled him close again.

"Stay here," he invited. "You're nice and warm now, and you'll get cold if you get out of bed. Let's just share the bed tonight."

Martin shrugged: he'd shared a bed with Miles before, and he knew he'd be able to get to sleep without any problem. And Miles was right: he was nice and warm now. So he settled down and snuggled up to his brother once more, and soon they both fell asleep.

***

"You okay?" Miles asked his brother when he woke up the following morning.

"Fine. Thanks, Miles. I mean, I know how stupid it is to be scared like that, but I just can't help it."

"I know. It's okay – maybe on the planet you originally came from storms are a lot more nasty, and actually try to kill people."

"There aren't any thunderstorms on Mars."

"Then maybe it isn't Mars you come from. It's got to be a planet where they build androids that look like humans, though, hasn't it?"

"I'm not an android, either."

"So you say. And I suppose androids wouldn't really be scared of thunder, either… but there's another way to check. Lie on your back."

"Why?"

"Just do it, Mars, okay?"

Martin shrugged and lay on his back, and Miles slipped a hand down his tummy and started to stroke lightly all around his brother's genitals.

"What are you doing?" demanded Martin.

"Relax. This is going to prove something, Mars, so just let me do it, okay?"

So Martin relaxed and Miles went on touching him lightly. And, just as he had found with Graham, this technique worked: soon Martin's penis was stiffening up. Once it was as hard as it could get Miles stroked it gently.

"That feels nice," Martin told him.

"And it proves you're not an android, too," said Miles, still stroking. "I bet androids don't have willies that go hard, so you must be a proper person after all. Of course, it's still pretty clear you've got an alien brain, but your body seems normal."

"Why does it get like that?" Martin asked him.

"Don't you know? No, I suppose you don't have those classes I have. Well, it's not important for you to know at the moment. There's something much more important that you need to know: I think you've got a disease, Mars."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well…" Miles wasn't in his brother's league when it came to IQ, but he was quite bright, and since shining his torch onto his brother's groin the previous evening he'd had time to think up another way to tease him. "I think you've got Monkey Disease, Mars."

"What's Monkey Disease?"

"Well, it's probably got a long Latin name, but I don't know what it is. It's very rare. What happens is that your body sort of goes into reverse evolution, and you start turning into a monkey."

"I don't think that's possible – and why do you think it's happening to me?"

"Because you're starting to grow fur," said Miles, slipping a finger to the base of his brother's penis and stroking the tiny hairs there. "This is going to grow and spread until it covers your whole body. Sometimes your back sort of curves a bit, and they said that sometimes you can even grow a tail, though I'm not sure if I really believe that. It seems pretty unlikely. Still, I suppose just about anything is possible. Anyway, it looks as if you've only just started, so it'll be ages before you have any serious problems with it."

"Is there a cure?"

"I don't know. I'll ask my friend – he's the one who told me about it."

Miles went back to stroking his brother's penis for a few more seconds, then he threw back the bedclothes.

"See, there's hardly any fur yet," he said, looking closely at his brother's genitals, "so I'm sure you don't really need to worry yet. Stand up and let's have a proper look."

Martin obediently stood up, and Miles caressed the erection a little longer and then looked at it again. He didn't think his brother's was much bigger than his own, which pleased him. Then he let go and stood up himself.

"Let's get dressed," he said, "and then you can teach me a bit about geometry."

Sunday April 6th

From now on I'm going to keep this journal in code, because my life has become very confusing in the last few days and I don't want anyone else reading anything I write here. The journal is kept hidden away in the good hiding-place I found, but you can't be too careful, so I'm going to go on using the Elvish alphabet Tolkien invented for Lord of the Rings, written right to left. It means the journal's going to take a bit longer to write for a week or so until I get used to it, but it's a lot more secure.

My brother told me something really strange today: he said he thinks I've got a disease that involves reverse evolution. I'm virtually certain that isn't possible – after all, it seems to fly in the face of science. And I know Miles likes teasing me, so probably he's making the whole thing up. Except it does explain the little hairs round my penis…

And it's not just the hairs. This morning before we got up he touched me on my penis and testicles, and it made my penis go hard. I don't know why that happened, or why it felt so strange when he stroked it afterwards: it should have been really embarrassing, being touched in a personal way like that, and in a way it was, but at the same time it felt nice. Actually it felt really nice, and when he stopped I almost asked him to do it again. It was a sort of warm feeling.

He's never done anything like that before, and we've shared a bed a few times, either when we've been on holiday or when he's let me get in with him during thunderstorms, like last night. In fact I don't think we've even seen each other undressed for over a year, since we had that camping trip the summer before last. I know things happen to boys when they grow up – they start thinking about girls and stuff like that. But Miles has never mentioned girls at all, and I'm really not interested in them, either, so I don't think it can be that. I really have got to try to find out something about sex, because I'm sure if I knew about that it would be easier to work out what's happening to me. Maybe Miles can teach me – he sort of said last night that he was taught something about it in some special classes at school. Perhaps if I help him with his maths he can teach me about sex…

Martin's complete ignorance of all things sexual is proving very confusing for him, and that situation won't be improving any time soon, either. And in the next chapter he's going to meet someone new…

Chapter Three

In this chapter Miles's social life continues to develop and the forfeits version of cribbage finds its next victim. And Martin discovers that he doesn't have exclusive rights to his 'special place'…

Wednesday April 9th

Miles's friend Graham came home with him after school today. We had tea together, and then my mother insisted that they did their homework before they did anything else, and because they had maths Miles asked me to come and help to explain about calculating the area of a circle and stuff like that. Miles is pretty good: he'll ask me for help, but he doesn't ask me to actually do the homework for him, just explain it so that he can do it himself. So I told him what he needed to know and then went back to my room to listen to some music while I tried to write a bit more of my story.

The story has got a bit stuck, though, because I've reached the point where my hero has found the portal, but I can't really write a lot more until I've found the real one and discovered what is on the other side… if there really is one, of course. But I'm sure there's something special about that place…

After a bit Miles and Graham came in and closed the door. Miles said that Graham was the one who had told him about Monkey Disease – there had been a lesson about it last term, apparently – and he asked if I would let Graham have a look. I was going to say no – after all, I'm still pretty sure Miles is making the whole thing up, and I wasn't sure I wanted a total stranger looking at my personal places. But in the end I said yes, just in case it's a real disease. And I know Miles really wanted me to, and I suppose I do owe him for letting me share his bed when I got scared by the storm on Saturday night.

I undid my belt, intending just to pull my jeans and pants down a bit, but Miles said I should take all my clothes right off so that they could check to see if there was any fur growing anywhere else, so I did. And then they made me stand with my legs apart and my hands on my head.

Graham looked at my groin and said that it had only just started, so probably I'd be okay for ages yet. Then they started to check for fur anywhere else on my body. They did that by stroking me really slowly all over, starting with my chest and back and working down. They both did it at the same time using both hands, so I had four hands stroking me at once, and it felt really nice. They worked their way down to my personal places, and then Graham sort of touched gently all around them, like Miles had done on Sunday morning, and it made my penis go hard again. And then they both stroked my penis, my testicles and my bottom at the same time, and I don't know why, but it felt really amazing.

Graham said they ought to check for a tail, and so they made me spread my legs and bend forwards, and then they felt the base of my spine. They said that was fine, that there was absolutely no sign of a tail growing, which obviously I was happy about. And then one of them touched my anus, and that felt really weird. I asked what they were doing, but they told me to keep quiet and let them work, so I just kept still while they sort of stroked my anus, and soon it felt nice instead of weird. I was a bit disappointed when they stopped and started to stroke down my legs, and they found some very fine hair on my lower legs. But Graham said that was nothing to worry about, that it wasn't proper fur and that quite a lot of normal people have a little hair on their legs, and even on their arms, too.

Then they got me to stand up straight again, but still with my legs apart, and they stroked the little bit of fur some more, and then started stroking my penis, testicles and anus again, and it felt so good it made me sort of groan. Miles asked if I liked it, and I admitted I did and told them that it made me feel warm and nice. Graham got a ruler out of his bag and measured my penis: it's about eleven centimetres [4⅜ inch] long, he said, and he wrote it in a notebook. He said they'd measure from time to time to see if the fur grows more as I get older – he explained that when a boy becomes a teenager his penis usually grows, so it would be a useful way to check on how fast I am growing up.

When they stopped touching me I was disappointed because it felt so nice, but I didn't really want to say so again because I thought they'd think there was something wrong with me – after all, it can't be normal for you to like having people touch your personal places, can it? But I asked if they were going to inspect me again, and Graham said they ought to do it regularly to see if the disease is getting any worse. I asked how often, and he said they really ought to do it every week, which pleased me, though I tried to make sure they couldn't tell. And then Miles said he could give me a quick check even more often, just to make sure. I pretended not to want that, but he said it would be best to keep a close eye on it, and so in the end I agreed that I'd let him check me whenever he thought he should.

And then they went downstairs to watch TV for a bit. I stayed in my room thinking for a few minutes, wondering why being touched that way felt nice, and if it was just something else about me that proves I'm part-alien, but then I decided that there was no point in worrying about it at the moment. So I went downstairs to watch TV with them, and they didn't make fun of me at all – in fact Miles moved up so I could sit next to him on the sofa, and then he snuggled up to me the way he does sometimes when we're watching TV together. So perhaps they don't think I was acting too weirdly after all…

"Do you really think he liked us doing that?" asked Graham. "I mean, I know he said he did, but… well, it's not like you and me doing it to each other, is it? We're friends, so we can do anything we're both happy about, but he doesn't know me at all. I'd have thought it would be really embarrassing for him to let me touch him. And I can't believe he really fell for that 'Monkey Disease' stuff. Surely he knows it's normal to get hair on it when you reach puberty?"

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't even know what puberty is. He's been taught at home since he was nine, and I know my mother hasn't taught him anything at all about sex – she doesn't think he needs to know stuff like that yet. I know, because she had to sign a form for me to have H and R classes at my old school, and she wasn't at all keen: she said I wouldn't need to know that sort of stuff until I was about fourteen or fifteen. I had to get my dad to talk her into it, and even then she only agreed because I said the other kids would be sure to tell me about it anyway, only they might get it mixed up, and it would be better if I heard the proper version from the teacher. So Martin knows absolutely nothing about sex. He knows what the proper names for his cock and balls are, because my mother taught him those so that he could say what was wrong if he ever had a problem like not being able to pee properly or having his balls ache, but he doesn't know what they're for. Except for peeing, obviously. So he has no idea that we're all going to grow hair in the end – he just thinks it means there's something wrong with him."

"Won't he want to see the doctor, then?"

"Not if we can convince him it's not a big problem, because he usually gets really embarrassed talking about his body. If he thinks you and I can keep it under control he won't say anything to anyone else."

"Brilliant! So we can make him strip whenever we want, then!"

"Pretty much. I expect I'll tell him the truth eventually – maybe when you and I start getting some hair of our own – but it'll be fun to keep teasing him about it until then. Anyway, like you said, he didn't seem to mind us touching him, so I don't suppose he'll complain."

Saturday April 12th

Something really bad happened today. The weather was dry, so after lunch I went back to the special place. I really thought I had a good chance of finding the portal today, and I had everything planned out: first I would sit on the branch for a while to get attuned to the place, and then I'd see if I got any indication of where the portal was – if I felt pulled towards one corner of the dip, for example. And if I didn't I would start at one end and work my way very slowly to the other until found it. I was sure it would work.

So I went and sat on the branch and relaxed for a bit, just breathing steadily and trying to pick up any trace of anything unusual. And I was just sitting there, relaxing, when someone shouted at me. It sort of jolted me awake, and when I looked up there was a boy standing at the top of the bank and glaring at me. He looked really angry.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, and I said I wasn't doing anything, I was just sitting there. 'Well, you can't,' he said. 'This is my place and nobody else is allowed here.' I wondered if he meant his father owned the field or something – after all, I had climbed through a fence to get to the dip. But then I wondered if he meant it was his place because the portal was here and he came from the other side, so I asked where he came from. 'None of your business,' he said, and that made me even more certain he was from the other side, so I asked where the portal was. He pretended he didn't know what I was talking about and said I was talking rubbish, and if I didn't go away – actually he said something I think was much ruder, though I didn't understand the word he used – he'd beat me up. I said I only wanted to find the portal because I thought maybe I belonged on the other side of it, and he said I belonged in a (rude word) lunatic

he meant it, too: he seemed really angry, and I didn't want to get beaten up so I said sorry and ran off.

So maybe the people on the other side of the portal aren't quite as friendly as I'd hoped – though maybe the angry boy was just angry because he was scared I knew about the portal. Maybe once he realises I'm no threat to him or his people he'll be okay. I hope so, because he looked as if he was about the same age as me, so maybe we could be friends once he finds out I'm intelligent, like he is. There was something strange about him, too – mostly he just looked like an ordinary boy, with fair hair about the same length as mine and ordinary-looking clothes – though I suppose they change into earth clothes before coming through the portal so as to blend in. But there was something about his head that seemed odd. I'm not sure now what it was – after all, I was a bit upset when I was looking at him, and I can't quite remember what it was that took my eye. But there was definitely something…

I've decided that I'm going to keep looking for the portal. Obviously I'll have to be a lot more careful about it from now on, and I'll have to make sure the angry boy doesn't see me again until I've found it, but I can't give up now. And I'm not going to.

Luke Sinclair watched the dark-haired boy run off and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god he'd been half an hour later finishing lunch today than he had expected, because otherwise he would have been here half an hour earlier, and that meant that when the other kid arrived he'd have been… well, he was just glad it hadn't happened, that was all.

He'd been sure nobody else knew about this place – after all, there were no other kids living in the small collection of houses near the junction of the lane and the main road, and surely kids wouldn't bother coming from further away – he thought it was at least a mile [1½ km] to the nearest village. And the dip was invisible from the footpath seventy-five yards away – from there it just looked like a clump of trees – and inaccessible from the lane without fighting your way through loads of brambles and stuff. So how had the other kid got there? After all, he'd only found it by complete accident himself…

The other kid had been talking about a portal or something – presumably a game he'd been playing. Did that mean he'd been here before – or, more importantly, might come back? That could be really bad news. He didn't think the kid would come back, because he thought he'd done a decent job of scaring him off, and had done his best to give the impression that he himself had the right to be here but that anyone else would be trespassing. He wished he'd thought to use that actual word, but he'd been too shaken up at finding someone else in his special place to think clearly.

He realised that he would have to be a bit careful here for a little while, at least until he could be sure that the kid had been scared away permanently. And that was intensely annoying: he really enjoyed his sessions out here, because this was the one place he could totally relax and be himself and play the games he wanted to play.

He supposed that he could be fairly sure the other kid wasn't going to come back today, at least, but he was no longer in the mood for his usual game. He sat on the branch for a few minutes trying to get back in the swing of things, but the thought that someone else had been sitting here – on his branch! – kept intruding, and in the end he gave up, climbed up out of the dip and went home.

***

Another week went by. By the end of it Miles had settled in at school fairly well, though because this was the summer term they spent games afternoons playing cricket instead of football, which meant that he didn't get a chance to show off his football skills to the rest of the class. He could play cricket, but nothing like as well as he played football, and so he didn't enjoy games afternoons as much as he might have done.

But he was doing quite well in class and had even – with help from his brother – picked up enough geometry to catch up with everyone else, so that was okay. And he enjoyed messing about with Graham and the others at break, too, so all in all he was quite happy with life.

He was starting to like Twitch, too – his neighbour had a nice sense of humour and even seemed to enjoy making fun of his own shortcomings, such as the time Miles made a comment on how untidy his hair was and Twitch replied, absolutely dead-pan, that he had to comb his hair without using a mirror because every time he looked in a mirror it broke.

"You're not that ugly," Miles had replied, and Twitch said that his face had been put together from the bits Doctor Frankenstein had left over. "I was lucky," he added. "At least he didn't have a spare bolt to put through my neck."

That Friday Twitch was telling him a funny story immediately before they went in for lunch, and so for the first time Miles went and sat next to him to listen to the end of the story while they ate. And just before afternoon school started Graham took him to one side.

"You shouldn't be hanging around with Twitch," he said.

"Why not?"

"Blimey, don't you know? Look, Miles, so far everyone reckons you're cool, because you fit in. You're good at football, you're okay at cricket, and you spend your breaks with the right people. But hanging about with Twitch is really, really uncool, and if you keep doing it everyone's going to start thinking you're weird. They won't blame you for sitting next to him, because there's nothing you can do about that, but you don't want to be seen talking to him outside the classroom."

"Oh. But… look, Graham, I reckon he's okay. He's done a lot to help me get organised over the last couple of weeks, telling me which class is next and which books I need, that sort of thing. And he helped a bit with the geometry, too, because I hadn't ever done that before. I sort of like him. And it's not his fault if he has epilepsy, is it? Or the way he looks."

"No, I suppose not. But he's different, Miles, and it doesn't matter whether it's his fault or not. And if you hang with him people will think you're different, too, and then some of them will start giving you a hard time. I'm just telling you, that's all."

"Okay. It seems a bit rough, but I suppose you're right. I'll just talk to him when we're in the classroom, then."

He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it was true: if you wanted to survive you had to blend in, because he'd seen in his last school how quick kids could be to tear into anyone who didn't conform to the thick-but-good-at-sports norm. He thought it was unfair, but Twitch had obviously survived so far, despite being the butt of everyone's jokes, and he didn't want to end up on the receiving end himself, especially since he was new to the school. So he decided he would have to follow Graham's advice and not talk to Twitch outside the classroom.

***

On the Saturday Graham came over to visit Miles again, staying for lunch and going out for a long bike ride afterwards, but between lunch and the start of their expedition they found time to take Martin up to his room, strip him bare and check to see if any more fur had appeared. They both enjoyed it, doing their best to get Martin to gasp and groan as they touched him. And they got the impression that Martin liked it as much as they did, not least because his penis was already erect before he removed his pants.

"I like making your brother wriggle about," said Graham as they rode down towards the river. "Do you think he'd let us check him for fur in front of the others?"

"Probably not yet. After all, he thinks it means there's something wrong with him, and I don't think he'd want anyone else know about it. Maybe in a while we can get him to admit he just likes being undressed and touched, and then perhaps we can get him to let the others join in, but I don't think we'll be able to do that for a while. Still, he seems quite happy about letting us do it, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does. I'd like to try stripping him outdoors sometime – that might be funny. Anyway, I was talking to Rob yesterday, and he's going to come round tomorrow afternoon, so if you're free, maybe we could teach him to play crib."

"Brilliant! I'm pretty sure I'm not doing anything tomorrow, but I'll ask as soon as we get home."

They had a good afternoon exploring the riverbank, even though in places it was a bit muddy… well, very muddy, to be honest, so much so that when they got back to Miles' house his mother made them both strip to their underwear in the porch, rather than letting them trail mud all through the house. She went and threw their mucky clothes in the washing machine while they went up to Miles' room and shut the door. Since they were appropriately dressed they decided that a wrestling match would be a good idea, and that kept them occupied for the better part of half an hour, after which they were too tired to do anything more than sit and play cards. They played a couple of games of crib, without forfeits (just for practice, they agreed), but then they couldn't resist the temptation any longer and agreed that the third game would result in forfeits for the loser.

Graham finally lost a very close game by seven points and removed his remaining clothing without argument, while Miles found a pair of shorts and a shirt in his wardrobe, put them on and then went to his brother's room, where he found Martin with his headphones on, listening to some music that his mother would not have approved of, unless she had suddenly developed a taste for Norwegian Black Metal.

"Can you come to my room for a moment?" Miles asked him, once he'd managed to catch his brother's attention. "Only Graham needs us to check him over for Monkey Disease."

Martin thought it would be interesting to find out what it felt like from the other person's point of view, so he turned off his CD player and followed Miles to his room. Graham didn't look all that happy to see him, clasping his hands in front of his groin and asking, "Hey, Miles, what's he doing here?"

"I thought we ought to check you over for Monkey Disease," Miles told him, grinning. "And as Martin is an expert on the subject I thought we should get him to help."

Graham wasn't sure of that: as far as he was concerned, the Disease story was supposed just to be a way for them to make Martin strip off for their entertainment. But he'd agreed to accept seven minutes' worth of forfeits, so he supposed he couldn't really argue too much if Miles wanted his brother to join in.

As for Martin, while he was still at least 75% certain that the whole Monkey Disease thing was a wind-up, he couldn't be absolutely certain, and so he took this very seriously, gently and carefully stroking Graham's body all over, looking for any sign of hair. After a bit Miles joined in, and Graham found himself being caressed by both brothers at the same time. And he found, as Martin had said, that it felt really nice.

After he had satisfied himself that the whole of Graham's body was free from hair Martin checked the base of the spine, just to make certain that there was no sign of a tail growing, and then he examined Graham's genitals really closely. By now Miles had been playing with them for a couple of minutes, and so Graham had a very solid erection, but Martin didn't comment on that, just stroking carefully around the base of the penis and checking that the other boy was completely hair-free.

"I think you're safe," he reported, finally. "I can't see any sign of hair at all, so it looks as though you don't have the disease. You're lucky."

"I did tell you it was rare," Miles pointed out, still stroking his friend's erection. "It only affects about one person in a hundred thousand, or something. But I thought it would be fair to let you see Graham undressed and to touch his personal places, since he's done the same thing to you. Do you think he's got a nice penis?"

"It's really hard," agreed Martin, "and it looks pretty good, I suppose – though I don't really know what a proper penis is supposed to look like. And at least he hasn't got any monkey fur on it…. I've been thinking, Miles: do you think it would help if I cut the hair off mine?"

"Probably not really, because I think it would just grow back, just like when you get your hair cut it soon grows again," said Miles. "I suppose you would look more normal without it, but it doesn't really matter because nobody is going to see you undressed except me and Graham and we already know about it. I think you should just leave it for now and only think about cutting it off if it gets a bit longer and more obvious."

"I agree," said Graham, who actually thought those tiny hairs looked sort of interesting. "Keep them for now but shave them off if they get too gross-looking. By the way – is my time up yet?"

"It was up about three minutes ago, but you seemed to be having fun so I let you get on with it," Miles told him, grinning.

"Okay, then next time you lose I'll keep you bare for an extra three minutes," Graham promised him, though he made no attempt to reach for his boxers: he was actually enjoying the way the brothers were making him feel. But Martin had finished his inspection now and said he was going back to his music, and off he went, closing the door behind him. Miles kept fondling Graham's balls for another minute or so and then said that he might as well get dressed and so, slightly reluctantly, Graham did.

"We're going to have to think of some good forfeits to do to people," he commented. "Nothing too horrible, obviously, because we're only going to be doing this stuff with our mates, but we ought to try to think of some interesting things to do. Maybe we can start with Rob tomorrow. We'll have to see if we can think of anything good before then."

Saturday April 19th

Today Graham came round again, and so I got undressed and let them check to see if any more hair has appeared. It hasn't, and I didn't think it would this quickly, anyway – after all, they only checked a week ago. But I didn't mind because I like the way it makes me feel when they touch me, even when they touch my personal places – in fact, that's where it feels nicest.

And then later on Miles invited me to his room, and I found Graham there without any clothes on – I think maybe it was a bet, or something. Anyway, Miles said I should check Graham over in case he has Monkey Disease, so I did. Of course he hasn't – there is no hair on him anywhere below his neck, but that isn't surprising because Miles says the disease only affects about one person in a hundred thousand. Of course, I still think he's probably making it all up…

But it gave me a chance to find out what it was like to be the person doing the checking instead of being the one being checked, and I discovered that it was really interesting. I really liked the way Graham's skin felt: it was smooth and silky. And his penis looked nice, too, because it was sticking up, like mine does when they touch me. It isn't quite as big as mine, and his testicles aren't very big, either, but it felt really interesting, sort of hard and soft at the same time – it was really very stiff, but the skin felt soft and velvety. Of course, I don't really know what a penis is supposed to look like, but I thought Graham's looked nice.

I couldn't tell if he liked what we were doing or not. He didn't try to stop us, but if he was paying a forfeit he wouldn't have been allowed to, so that doesn't really mean anything. When they touch me it feels so nice that I sometimes gasp or make other little noises, but Graham didn't do anything like that. So I still don't know if liking being touched means I'm weird or not. Probably it does mean that – after all, I know I'm different. And I liked touching Graham, too, though I tried really hard not to let them see that in case they thought I was strange – although I'm fairly sure they both like touching me, or they wouldn't want to do it so often… it's really confusing.

I had intended to go back to the special place this weekend, but I've sort of chickened out because I'm too scared of meeting the angry boy again. But I'm definitely not going to give up: maybe in another week he'll have decided I'm not going to come back, and then he won't be looking out for me. I'll have to be really careful when I get near the dip so that if he's there I see him before he sees me, but I'm definitely going to do it. I have to find the portal, if it exists: maybe on the other side someone can explain to me why I get these strange feelings when my brother undresses me…

On the Sunday afternoon Miles went to Graham's house and they taught Rob to play cribbage. Rob liked the game, saying that it was far more interesting than brag or pontoon, and he seemed quite happy to play all afternoon. So they played two complete games (and Rob won the second one, proving that he'd picked up the strategy fairly quickly) and then Graham decided it was time to up the ante a little.

"See, me and Miles have been playing this game for a couple of weeks now, since he taught it to me," Graham said. "And we decided to make it a little more interesting, so we started doing it like the penalty game at football: whoever loses has to strip and do press-ups. What do you think?"

"Yes, okay," agreed Rob, flushed with his success in the second game.

That was easy, thought Graham, and so he decided to push a little further.

"In fact," he went on, "we decided that we'd do it on a time basis – so if whoever comes second beats whoever comes third by four points, the person who comes third has to do forfeits for four minutes. Okay?"

"Okay," agreed Rob. "It won't be me who comes last, anyway."

"Great!" said Graham, grabbing the cards and starting to shuffle. "Reset the board, Miles."

Miles had remembered to bring one of the crib boards today, so he took the pegs back out ready for a new game while Graham dealt the first hand.

That first game was really close – in the end Graham won and Rob beat Miles to second place by pegging out first. Miles only lost by one point.

"It's not really worth doing anything for one minute," Miles said. "Let's just play another game."

"Let's not," said Graham. "You lost, Miles: get stripped."

With a sigh Miles began to undress. He was a bit more nervous about this today, because he didn't know Rob very well, and for that reason he didn't have an erection when he removed his pants.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Hang on, we can't start yet," said Graham. "You can't do forfeits until you're stiff. Come and give me a hand, Rob."

So Miles had to stand and let Graham tickle his genitals until he was fully erect.

"Gosh, he's big, don't you think?" said Rob.

"He is, isn't he?" agreed Graham. "Okay, Miles, like you said there isn't a lot of time, so you can just do some press-ups. Off you go."

So Miles did some press-ups while Graham flicked his ruler against Miles' bum and Rob looked on with interest, and once the minute was up Miles got dressed again.

"Let's have another game!" demanded Rob. "We didn't really get enough time to do stuff that time – let's see if we can get longer this time!"

"Okay," agreed Graham, happy to see that Rob was enjoying himself. "Your deal."

And this time Rob lost by a mile – well, by twenty-six points, anyway. Suddenly his enthusiasm for the game vanished into thin air. Slowly he got undressed, hesitating when he got to his pants.

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" he said.

"Well, we can if we want – after all, we all agreed to this before we started. But we're not going to tell anyone what you look like naked, or anything else too personal, because we don't do stuff like that to our mates."

"As long as you keep quiet about me losing, that is," put in Miles.

"Of course I will!" agreed Rob at once.

"Okay, then," said Graham. "So – we're waiting…"

Reluctantly Rob pulled his pants off and turned to face them. His genitals looked really small, but that was at least partly because his penis was keeping its head down, and of course Graham wasn't going to allow it to stay like that.

"We're going to have to get that tiny thing nice and hard to start with," Graham told him. "Come here."

Rob could hardly complain about that since he'd been perfectly happy for it to be done to Miles, and so he stood quietly and allowed Graham to stroke his genitals. It took a little longer, but eventually he started to stiffen up, and when it seemed to be as big as it was going to get Graham picked up his ruler and held it alongside.

"Six centimetres [2⅜ inch]," he announced. "Oh, dear. Now, what shall we do first? I think maybe twenty press-ups, just to get you in the mood… except… hang on a moment."

He picked up his mobile phone from the desk and opened it, making out that he was going to make a call, but instead he turned on the camera and, before Rob could react, pointed it at him and took a picture.

"Don't worry," he said, as Rob started to make panicky noises, "this is just so that you can see what you look like. I'll let you erase it yourself once you've seen. Anyway, get on with those press-ups."

With a look that suggested a complete lack of trust Rob dropped to the floor and began to do his press-ups. Graham fiddled with the phone for a few seconds and then dropped down beside him to watch, and when the press-ups were over he showed the picture to Rob.

"Now you have to admit it isn't very big, is it?" he asked. "I just thought you ought to see what you look like from someone else's point of view, that's all. You can erase it now – hit the 'options' button, then 'delete', then 'confirm'. Satisfied? Now I'll put it away in my drawer so you can be sure I don't take any more. And now… do some stride jumps."

They made Rob do various gymnastic exercises for about ten minutes but then took pity on him and allowed him to get dressed.

"Maybe next time we'll make you do all that stuff outdoors," Graham said as Rob tied his shoelaces.

"Just remember it's your turn to lose next," said Rob, glaring at him.

"I never lose: I've got too much class."

"You wish. I'm going to think up some really bad stuff to do when you do lose."

"Dream on. Anyway, let's play something else."

He turned his PlayStation on and they spent the rest of the afternoon playing various games, though without any forfeits.

Rob went home first, and after he had gone Graham went and turned on his computer.

"I sent myself an email a couple of hours ago," he told Miles. "Do you want to see it?"

Miles didn't get it straight away, but when Graham opened his email account there was a message waiting for him, and when he opened the attachment Miles found himself looking at a picture of Rob with no clothes on, his small erection clearly visible.

"I mailed it to my email account while he was doing his press-ups," Graham explained. "So it didn't matter that he erased it afterwards, because by then it was safely on the computer. Good, eh?"

"You shouldn't have told me that," said Miles. "Now I'm going to have to confiscate your phone whenever we play strip games together."

"I wouldn't do it to you," Graham assured him. "But it might be fun to do it to your brother, don't you think?"

"It would, at that," agreed Miles. "And he wouldn't realise you were taking a photo, because Mars hasn't even got a mobile himself. He doesn't need one, because he's hardly ever away from home, and he hasn't got any friends to send texts to or anything. So he probably wouldn't realise what you were doing if you sat there and took photos of him all afternoon."

"Okay, next time I come over we'll try it."

"But… you're not to show it to anyone else," Miles said. "Or not without telling me first, okay? I know Mars is weird, but he's still my brother, and I don't want him getting hurt."

"Don't worry, I won't. I'm not going to show Rob's pic to anyone else, either – that's just for you and me. And if I can get one of any of the others – Jamie and Jack and Tom, anyway, and Kevin if I can possibly manage it – I won't show them to anyone else, either."

"Fair enough. Do you reckon you could get Robyn to play crib? It might be safer than taking penalties with her, because at least here we're indoors."

"I'm not sure she'd be allowed to come round on her own – though maybe if Rob came too it would work. And I'd like to get a pic of a nude girl to put in the collection, even if she hasn't got much to look at yet."

"What happens if your parents look on your computer?"

"They won't find anything. I've got a little program that allows you to hide files, and I'm going to keep all my photos in there. Besides, my parents don't know how to use a computer properly."

"Great! So we've got somewhere safe to keep anything we don't want anyone to find!"

"Good, isn't it? So – just in case I manage to get Rob to bring his sister with him next time, you'd better show me how you play crib with four people. Did you say something about two against two?"

"That's right – two people play as partners against the other two. So if you and me play against Rob and Robyn we can make them both strip at the same time – if we win, of course."

"Of course we'll win – we're the top team, Miles. Nobody's going to beat us. So – show me how you play with four."

"Okay…"

***

Another week went by, but they didn't get a chance to challenge Rob and his sister because Graham had to go away for the weekend, so instead Miles arranged to meet up with the rest of the gang at the recreation ground to play football. And today Robyn was there, too. He'd already met her, of course, because she was in his class at school, and sometimes she joined in the playground tennis ball kickabouts, though more often she hung around with other girls. She looked a bit like her brother, with the same colour eyes and hair (though hers was worn long and was usually tied in a pony-tail), but she was an inch or two taller.

But Miles did still get to meet someone new today because Tom had brought his brother Kevin with him. Both of them went to a private school half a mile away [800 m] from the school Miles went to, but because Tom had lived next door to Jamie for most of his life he still spent most of his weekends playing with Jamie and his friends rather than the kids from his own school. Kevin wore glasses and did look a bit nerdy, with his unruly wavy brown hair and skinny body, whereas Tom looked more athletic, with better-looking muscles. He also wore a gold ear stud on his left ear, which was something that wasn't allowed – for girls or boys – at Miles' school.

After a bit of negotiating they agreed on two teams and started playing, and Miles quickly found out that Robyn was pretty good and that Kevin wasn't, though his extra height made him a reasonable second goalkeeper. They played for an hour or so, changed the teams and carried on, but with Graham absent nobody else took the step of suggesting strip games. But Miles still enjoyed himself.

***

Luke Sinclair had stayed away from the dip the previous weekend, other than making a very swift visit on the Sunday afternoon just to make sure the other kid wasn't hanging around. But this weekend he wanted to get back into his proper routine, so on the Saturday afternoon he made his way to the dip straight after lunch. He scouted it out carefully, but there was no sign that anyone was around, or indeed that anyone had been there recently, so he went to the point where the horizontal tree grew out of the bank and got undressed. Then he sat on the branch for a while, relaxing and enjoying the solitude.

Saturday April 26th

Now things have become very strange… I went out to the dip this afternoon. I deliberately left it quite late because last time I got there before the angry boy, and I thought if I left it a bit later it would give him a chance to get there first. Of course, if I left it too late he might just disappear through the portal, but I hoped I would arrive after he got there but before he left.

I climbed over the fence and forced my way through the hedge between the lane and a field that was quite a long way from the dip, and then I moved along close to the hedge until I was near the dip. Finally I crawled across the last bit to the dip, approaching it at the end where all the undergrowth was, as the angry boy had appeared at the other end last time.

I crawled right to the edge of the dip where there was a big tree and I looked around it. I didn't really expect to see anyone, but the angry boy was there, sitting on the branch – and he didn't have any clothes on! For a while he just sat there, and then he got up and pulled a string tied round one of the tree-trunks, and one end of a rope dropped down into the dip. The other end seemed to be tied to a branch up in the tree. And then he climbed up the bank holding the rope and used it to swing down into the dip, letting go at the far end of its swing and dropping to his feet on the floor of the dip. He had bare feet, so he must have cleared that area of thorns or anything sharp first.

He played on his rope for quite a while, swinging on it and climbing it, and then he put a paper target against one of the trees and practised throwing a spear at it – it was a proper spear with a metal point, and he seemed to be quite good with it. He practised throwing a knife, too, though he was definitely better with the spear.

He had a rest sitting on the branch for a while and then climbed up into the tree his rope was tied to. I don't like heights very much, but he seemed completely at home there, running along the branch like a monkey – I wonder if I'd be able to do that if my Monkey Disease got far enough? I just thought of that… Anyway, he climbed down the rope and then did the trip twice more, up the tree and down the rope. He must be fit, because I know I couldn't have done that. Perhaps their bodies are better than in this world, as well as their brains, though his body didn't look different – though I couldn't see anything very clearly because I was too far away.

In the end he got dressed, tied the rope against the tree-trunk, hid his spear under a fallen branch and left the clearing. I was a bit disappointed because I'd hoped he'd use the portal, but perhaps he came in that way and wanted to do some more exploration before going home.

I've been wondering why he undressed, and I think maybe it's because in his world everything is very organised – maybe he spends most of the day working with, or even plugged into, a computer. Perhaps when he's in our world he's free to behave totally differently, so he acts like a wild boy who can run about naked and climb trees and do all the stuff he can't do at home. Maybe there aren't even any trees in his world.

Next time I want to get a lot closer, so I can see him properly: there's something about his face that struck me as strange, but I wasn't close enough to see. There's a thick clump of brambles and thorns not too far from the branch, and I think if I can get close behind it, or even find a way to get inside it, I'll be able to see a lot better. So tomorrow I'm going to try to get there really early so that I'm in my hiding place before he gets there…

So Martin has a mystery to solve – who is the strange blond boy and – more important – where does he come from? In the next chapter his investigations take a step forward…

Chapter Four

This time we'll see what happens when Martin tries to spy on Luke. And Miles is going to get to know Twitch a lot better in this chapter, too.

Sunday April 27th

It started raining late this morning and has carried on all afternoon, so I didn't manage to get back to the special place this afternoon after all. I really hope the weather is better next weekend. I'm going to ask if I can have lunch early next Saturday, or maybe even take a packed lunch, so I can get there really early. That should give me a chance to find a good place to hide, either in or right next to the bramble-bush I noticed yesterday.

Last night at bed-time Miles called me into his room and asked if I would like to sleep with him. I asked if there was a storm forecast – I'd missed the weather on TV – and he said no, he just thought it would be nice if we could sleep together for a change, since usually it only happens when I'm too scared to be able to talk normally. And I suppose that's true, though I'd prefer it if Miles didn't remind me about it, or use words like 'scared' (it's true, but it makes me sound like a baby). Anyway, I thought it would be nice, too, so I said yes.

I wasn't very surprised when he asked me to take off my pyjama trousers before getting into bed. I didn't mind, either: over the last couple of weeks I've found that I like being bare and having Miles touch me. He actually took his own jacket off, too, because he said it would feel good if we cuddled up like that, and he was right: it was nice feeling his bare chest against mine. He kept his trousers on, though, and when I suggested that he should take them off to make it fair between us, he said that he didn't have to be fair, and that his personal places were going to stay personal. Mine, of course, didn't stay personal, and he made my penis go hard almost as soon as he turned the light out, and then he stroked me all over for quite a while before we settled down to go to sleep.

I've decided I like sleeping naked, at least when it isn't too cold outside: it feels right, somehow, and so I'm going to try it for the rest of this week, even when I'm sleeping alone in my own bed.

Anyway, when we woke up this morning Miles and I cuddled for a while. We didn't talk much, but we didn't need to: it just felt nice being close to him. I'd never admit it to him, but I really love my brother, even when he teases me. He stroked my bottom for a while, and then stroked my penis and testicles, and it made me feel nice. When Mother called to say we should get up Miles threw the bedclothes off, sat on the bed and got me to stand in front of him so that he could look at my penis while he was stroking it. He did it for a minute or so and then sent me back to my own room to get dressed. It would have been nice if he could have gone on touching me, but we had to get to breakfast or Mother would have come looking for us.

The shed is being delivered this week, but I won't be able to use it for a while because my dad is going to have to run power cables to it from the house, and we're going to have to sort out a bottled gas supply for my Bunsen burners. But at least it'll be there and I'll be able to start planning where I want to put everything…

Graham was back from his weekend trip and so was able to ride to school with Miles on the Monday morning (by which time the rain clouds had disappeared).

"Sorry I wasn't around at the weekend," he said. "One of my cousins was getting married in Nottingham and my parents decided to stay overnight. It was really boring. So what did you do while I was away?"

"We played football. Even Kevin turned up, so we had enough for a decent game. We didn't play strip penalties, though – it wouldn't have been as good without you there for us all to laugh at."

"I wouldn't have lost," said Graham. "I'm far too skilled. Probably Kevin would have lost again, because he's crap at penalties."

"He probably wouldn't have agreed to take part, seeing that Robyn was there."

"You're probably right. We'll have to make him strip playing crib instead. Maybe we should form a sort of crib league, in teams of two. Bottom team in the league after we've all played each other gets naked forfeits."

"Or we could play that the losers of every game get forfeits – that way we'd get to see loads more people naked. Extra bad forfeits for whichever team finishes bottom of the league."

"That could be fun. We'll have to try to persuade everyone to join in. I know Rob will play, and I'm ready to bet Jamie will. And we'll talk the others into it somehow. Perhaps we can have a proper tournament at half term."

The week rolled by. By now Miles had settled in completely and had got to know most of the other boys in his class, and some of the girls – the ones that were friends with Robyn, anyway. And everyone seemed to think he was okay. And so he decided that he was going to spend a little more time with Twitch, who was as friendly as ever, even though Miles had declined a couple of invitations to eat lunch with him. So he started going back to the classroom a little before the end of break (Twitch usually stayed inside during the breaks and read a book), or not rushing off to the playground at the end of lessons but staying and talking to Twitch instead. That way he was able to spend a little more time with him without disregarding Graham's advice not to be seen with him outside the classroom.

Twitch had a good repertoire of jokes, several of which were aimed at himself. For example, he told Miles that his mother never had to worry if their washing-machine broke down – all she had to do was to put the dirty clothes in a bath full of water, add some soap powder, and then flash a bright light in Twitch's face and shove him in the bath. He was, he said, far better at swishing the clothes about and he didn't use any electricity, either. Miles wondered for a moment if he could possibly be serious, and when he hesitantly asked the question Twitch cracked up.

"Of course not, idiot," he said. "You don't seriously think my parents would intentionally make me have a fit, do you? If that really happened I'd probably drown – I don't have any control of anything while it's happening to me, so if my head was under water I wouldn't be able to lift it above the surface. Actually, I wouldn't even be aware it was under water, so I'd just try breathing water until I drowned. Or I'd crack my head open on the bath. If I ever have a big fit in front of you you'll see what I mean."

And on the Thursday Miles did get to see what he meant. A couple of the teachers were away from school sick and so there was a supply teacher taking some of the lessons, and of course it was that afternoon that the starter on one of the neon lights in their classroom decided to go on the blink. The result was that the light started to come on and off, quite rapidly. If any of the usual teachers had been there it wouldn't have caused a problem, because they would have known to turn the light off straight away, but this supply teacher hadn't taught them before. It didn't help either that he was of the old school persuasion: he'd told them to read a passage in their books quietly, and when Twitch put his hand up the teacher just said, almost without looking up, that all he had to do was read and that any questions could wait until everyone had finished.

"But, Sir," tried Twitch, and was just told to shut up.

"Can't you close your eyes?" asked Miles.

"I can try, but you can still see a flashing light through your eyelids."

"Then get up and go. You won't get into trouble, because the head knows about you, doesn't she?"

"Well, yes… okay, I suppose you're… oranges!"

"What?"

"Oranges – I can smell oranges… damn, it's too late. Can you try to keep my head still…"

Twitch half jumped and half fell onto the floor, landing on his side. Miles was a bit slow to react, and at first he thought nothing was happening because Twitch just seemed to go completely still; but then he started thrashing about, and at that point Miles dropped to his knees and tried to keep his friend's head from flopping about too much.

"What on earth do you think…" began the teacher, but then he realised what was happening. He couldn't do very much, though, except to tell the rest of the class to face the front.

Twitch's body kept moving about for a couple of minutes, and part-way through Miles's nose told him that his friend had lost control of his bodily functions. At last the convulsions stopped, though Twitch just lay on the floor, apparently completely out of it, for a couple more minutes, until Miles was getting worried.

"He's not moving, Sir," he said. "Is that normal?"

"I don't really know," admitted the teacher.

"Yes, it's what happened last time," said a girl called Vanessa, who sat just across the aisle from Miles and Twitch. "He shook about for a bit and then just lay there for three or four minutes. Miss Steadman said it was normal and we should just wait till he woke up."

"Thank you," said the teacher. "Alright, you – it's Miles, isn't it? You stay with him; the rest of you, we're going to read from the top of page thirteen. Emily, could you start reading, please?"

The rest of the class tried to concentrate, not very effectively, on the lesson, while Miles knelt beside Twitch's head and hoped Vanessa knew what she was talking about. And apparently she did, because a few seconds later Twitch groaned and tried to stand up. Miles helped him and supported him until he could stand on his own.

"Please Sir, I need to go and clean up," Twitch said;

"Of course. Miles, go with him in case anything happens."

"Don't worry, Sir, it never happens twice in a row."

"I still want someone with you," insisted the teacher. "And when you've finished you should go to the office and get Miss Jordan to phone your parents."

Twitch nodded, grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Miles trailed along after him, not knowing what to say – obvious comments like 'So that was a fit, then?' and 'Do you know you've soiled yourself?' didn't seem to be sensible things to say…

Twitch led him to the boys' toilet, went into one of the cubicles and closed the door, while Miles hung around outside, not knowing what to do. A couple of minutes passed and then he heard Twitch swear and then start to cry.

'Are you all right?' would have been a really stupid question, so instead he said, "Open the door, Noel."

He wasn't sure that Twitch would so it, but after ten seconds he heard the bolt slide back. He pushed the door open. Twitch was sitting on the toilet, his head down, with his soiled underwear and wet trousers on a heap on the floor. He'd had to take his shoes off to get the trousers off, and they were on the floor on the other side of the cubicle.

"There's no more paper," he managed to say. "And it wasn't really getting me clean, anyway… oh, shit, Miles, I hate this so much…" and he trailed off into sobs again.

"Come on," said Miles, pulling him to his feet. "It'll be easier with a little warm water. And the bell doesn't go for another twenty-five minutes, so nobody's going to come in."

He helped Twitch out to the wash-room, ran some water into one of the basins, grabbed a handful of paper towels from one of the dispensers, got Twitch to bend over the adjacent basin and spread his legs, and then moistened a couple of the towels and started to clean Twitch's bottom. It took a bit of work because the excrement was smeared all over the place, but gradually he got it washed off. When it had all been removed he used a couple of clean paper towels to dry his friend off.

"Wash your front," he advised him. "And then if I tie my jacket around your waist nobody will realise you're bare underneath."

"It's okay, I carry a change of pants and a pair of shorts in my bag," Twitch told him. "Just in case."

"Okay, I'll get your bag." And Miles went back into the toilet, picked up Twitch's bag and shoes in one hand and, very carefully, his soiled trousers and pants in the other and took them out to the wash-room. Twitch was wiping down his groin, keeping his back towards Miles. Miles would have liked to see what his friend was washing, but he controlled himself, put Twitch's stuff down beside him and went and waited by the door.

Twitch got dressed in his clean pants and a pair of PE shorts, carefully rolled up his dirty clothes and put them into the plastic bag his clean clothes had been in, put on his shoes, picked up his bag and walked to the door.

"Now we'd better go and call your parents," said Miles.

"I suppose so. There's no point, really, because I know I'll be okay now, but I'd better do it anyway. Look, Miles…"

"What?"

"No, it doesn't matter. Come on."

They went to the office and Miles waited while Twitch reported to the headmistress and got the secretary to let him call home, and then he came out to where Miles was waiting.

"It's not worth hurrying, because the bell goes in five minutes," he said. "Come with me."

He led Miles to the main hall, which was of course empty at this time of day, and closed the door behind them.

"Thanks," he said. "I can't imagine anyone else in the school helping me clean up like that. You're a real friend… which makes me feel a bit bad, because I was thinking you'd been avoiding me lately. I thought you didn't want to be friends any more. Now I know I was wrong. Mind you, now you've seen me in action, I won't blame you if you want to sit on the other side of the classroom from now on."

Now it was Miles's turn to feel bad. "I'd like to stay next to you," he said. "If you don't mind, that is… because… well, you were right: I have been avoiding you, at least outside the classroom. And it was stupid of me, because I shouldn't care what other people think… except…"

"You mean that people will laugh at you if you hang around with me?"

"Well, sort of. I'm really sorry, Noel."

"You can call me Twitch, you know. Everyone else does."

"I don't want to be like everyone else. I like you, Noel – you're funny, and you tell good jokes… it's just…"

"I know. I just wish my life wasn't so completely shit all the time. I mean, look at me: I've got a face that makes a warthog look beautiful and a body that goes on strike every now and again and makes me mess myself in public. It would be good if just once something nice would happen…"

Twitch started to cry again, and this time Miles did what he would have done if it had been his brother standing in front of him: he put his arms round him and hugged him hard.

"Well, you've got a friend now," said Miles. "I don't know if that counts as 'something nice' but it's the best I can do. So… do you want to come to my house at the weekend?"

He made the offer without stopping to think first, but then he decided that it would be too bad if the family had anything planned: Twitch needed cheering up, and that was more important.

Twitch look at him. "Do you mean that?" he asked.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"Then… I'd like that. Except… could you come to my house instead? It's just that my parents would probably like to meet you and give you the 'What to do if Twitch goes all wobbly' lecture before they let me come to yours."

"Okay. But your family don't actually call you 'Twitch', do they?"

"Well, no, that's just what I call their sermon. Though I seriously don't mind being called 'Twitch' – I think it's quite a cool name, actually. I mean, I'm only called Noel because I was born on Christmas Eve – and that's another thing that's wrong with my life, of course: three hundred and sixty-four days between presents."

"In that case I'll give you a present on my birthday," promised Miles. "It's in July, so you won't have quite so long to wait. And I'll definitely come round to yours if you like. Saturday afternoon okay?"

"Probably – I'll let you know tomorrow. Thanks, Miles – I haven't had anyone round to visit for ages."

The bell went and they headed back to the classroom for the last lesson of the day. But Miles had decided that from now on he was going to be friends with Twitch, and if the other kids in his class didn't like it… well, okay, he really hoped the other kids wouldn't do or say anything, because although right now he felt ready to stick up for Twitch, he wasn't sure he would go on feeling like that if Graham and his other friends gave him a hard time about it. Oh, well, he thought, I'll worry about that if it happens…

Saturday May 3rd

I suppose I'm lucky I'm still here to be able to make this entry….

I went to the special place as soon as we finished lunch. I made my way to the dip from the same direction as last time, just in case, but when I got there the angry boy was nowhere in sight. So I went to the bramble-bush, had a proper look at it and then took the secateurs I'd borrowed from home and started to snip my way into it, starting on the opposite side from the branch. It took a while, but eventually I'd made a sort of tunnel into the middle of the bush. I cleared out all the snippets of bramble so that I wouldn't end up lying on them and then crawled into the bush, pushing my bag in front of me – it's green and brown, so it gave me a little more camouflage. From inside I could see the branch quite well, as well as the area around it, so I was happy with my hide.

I'd brought a book to read, because I thought I might have to wait a while. I'd brought my CD player, too, but I decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to listen to music while I was waiting in case I didn't hear him coming. Reading was okay because I would still hear when the angry boy arrived.

So I read my book for an hour and a half. By then I was getting uncomfortable from just lying in the bush for so long, and I was starting to think that he might not come today anyway. I was thinking about giving up and going home when I heard a noise, and then I saw him coming into the dip from the same end as last time. So I kept still – I closed my book but I didn't dare try to put it back into the bag in case he heard me moving.

He went to the place where the branches grow out of the bank and got undressed, and when he was bare he went and sat on the branch for a bit. He had his back to me, so I couldn't see very much, just that he was quite thin and that he had quite long fair hair that covered his ears.

He sat for quite a while, and I was starting to get quite uncomfortable again – and worse, I needed to urinate. I must have drunk too much orange juice at lunch-time. But I didn't dare move, so I waited.

Eventually he got up, went and untied the string that keeps his rope up in the branches and lowered it down, and then he started swinging and jumping again. I still couldn't make out too much, because when he was on the rope he went past me too quickly, and when he was on the way back to the top of the bank he had his back to me.

He went and fetched his spear, and I thought that maybe if he went and practised in the same place as last time I'd be able to risk moving a little, but he chose a tree much closer to the bramble bush to set up his target. I still didn't dare move, and I thought that if he didn't go a bit further away soon I was going to wet myself, but he kept throwing his spear. He seems to be really good at it, too, always hitting the target even when he went and stood further back.

But at least he was close enough for me to see him a bit better now. He doesn't look quite so thin from the front – in fact he has some nice muscles. There seem to some scars around his left shoulder, and there's a mark on his face which might be a scar, too – maybe that's what I sort of half-noticed last time. His personal places look about the same as mine, though he doesn't have Monkey Disease, of course. So he looks human, which is good, because it means that the people on the other side of the portal are basically the same as me.

But when he bent down to pick up his spear on the one occasion that it didn't stay stuck into the tree his hair fell forward and I caught a glimpse of something behind his ear. It looked a bit like one of those Bluetooth phone things like my dad has, but this one didn't seem to have a microphone. I thought that maybe it was a sort of radio implant, and if it was I'd have to be really careful, because it would mean that he could call for help straight away – and if the portal was close by I could find myself in real trouble.

After a while he put the spear down and went and climbed into the tree. And now I really had to urinate if I didn't want to wet my pants, so I rolled carefully onto my side, undid my jeans, took out my penis and started to urinate. It made only a very faint sound, so I thought I would be okay, but I hadn't realised that the bush I was in wasn't as thick from above as it was from the side: he suddenly gave a yell, making it obvious he could see me. I was still urinating, so I tried to finish really quickly and then grabbed at my bag and started to wriggle out of the bush feet first. But my bag got hooked up in the brambles and I couldn't pull it free.

The angry boy started climbing down the rope, and he was moving far too quickly, so I let go of the bag, finished working my way out of the bush, pushed my penis back into my jeans and started to back away without waiting to do my zip up. By now the boy had reached the ground, so I ran back to the overgrown end of the dip where he wouldn't be able to follow me in bare feet. But instead he picked up his spear and started moving towards me, and I was so scared that I urinated a little more in my jeans, because I knew how accurate he was with his spear and how far he could throw it. I turned and ran away as fast as I could and didn't stop until I was three fields away and could see that he wasn't following me.

I waited for an hour, because I was fairly sure he'd have gone back through the portal by then – he would probably have been a bit embarrassed about being seen undressed and would probably have wanted to go straight home, but I wanted to wait long enough to make sure he hadn't just gone to get some friends to help him chase after me.

I've just thought that maybe they don't wear clothes in his world – after all, in a warm climate where the weather is controlled you don't really need clothes. So perhaps he wasn't embarrassed, just angry, and the only reason he didn't chase me on his own is that in our world there are lots of brambles and thistles and thorns and things that make it hard to run far in bare feet.

But after an hour had gone by I was fairly sure he wasn't going to chase me, either on his own or with friends, so I carefully made my way back to the dip. And I found it empty: he had obviously gone home. I felt relieved about that: it meant it would be safe for me to go and get my bag back.

But when I got back to the bush I found my bag had gone, and so had my book: the bush was empty. I looked around to see if it had just been moved, but it looked as if he had taken it with him when he left. But then I saw something: there was a piece of paper stuck to one of the twin branches, and when I got close enough I found that it had my full name on it, even my middle name. At first I didn't understand how he could possibly know that, unless that radio thing on his ear was actually something to help him to read minds. But then I remembered I'd left a tag in the bag with my name, address and phone number on. Fortunately I hadn't changed it since we moved, so it still had my old London address and phone number on, and that at least meant that the angry boy couldn't come to my house to beat me up.

The paper was tucked behind a bit of bark, so I pulled it out, opened it up and read it. And it said 'If you want your bag back, be here tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock. Come alone. If you don't turn up, you don't get it back.'

I can't just abandon it. I mean, the bag isn't that special, and I could always buy another copy of the book, but my CD player was in it, and so were three or four CDs, and it would be expensive to replace them, especially the player. And my parents would be sure to want to know what had happened to it.

So I think I'll have to go back tomorrow. I suppose I shouldn't complain, because I wanted to meet him and talk to him anyway, but I'm scared he'll think I was spying on him just because I wanted to see him without his clothes on, and that could make him very angry. I just hope he gives me a chance to explain…

While Martin was on his way to the dip, Miles was on his bike heading for Twitch's house. Graham had asked him to come round to help teach Jamie how to play crib, but Miles had said he couldn't because he was going out, but that he would be free on Sunday. Graham had agreed to try to get Jamie to come round on Sunday instead.

Miles had put some decent clothes on as he wanted to make a good impression on Twitch's parents, and he had even combed his hair, though the breeze and the bike ride had undone some of his good work by the time he arrived.

Twitch's parents greeted him warmly. "Noel says you helped him when he had his seizure on Thursday," his mother said. "That was very kind. A lot of the children are scared of getting anywhere close to him. They seem to think it's contagious."

"That's just silly," said Miles. "Obviously something like epilepsy isn't contagious. I think it's more that they find it weird. Of course, I hadn't seen it happen before, but it didn't really bother me. I'll be quicker to know what to do next time."

"You can't really do very much. It's best if you can find something soft to put under his head – I'm thinking of asking his teachers if we can leave a pillow next to his desk. If we can, all you need to do is get him onto his side with his head on the pillow and stand back. It's afterwards he really needs a friend, because he usually feels a bit confused, and sometimes he has a bad headache afterwards, and sometimes… well, you saw what happened on Thursday. That's when the other children can be cruel about it, and it was really nice of you to help him instead."

"Maybe if they understood it a bit better they'd be nicer about it," suggested Miles. "Do you think we could ask Miss Steadman or one of the other teachers to explain what causes it? If they understand that it's not Twi… Noel's fault, maybe they won't make fun of him so much."

"That's a good idea. Maybe we'll ask. Anyway, I'm sure Noel wants to show you his room, so go upstairs and play, both of you. I'll call you when it's time for tea."

"I think they like you," said Twitch, once they were in his room with the door shut. "And this is nice, too – I'm not allowed to have the door shut when I'm in here on my own, just in case. And don't touch that cord by the bed – it rings a bell in my parents' bedroom and downstairs. I'm supposed to use it if I have a seizure in the night. So – what would you like to do?"

"It's up to you. I mean, you're in charge. Except… wow, Twitch, I didn't think you'd be allowed to have a computer!"

"I can only use it to look things up, really. I can't play games on it, because most PC games flash a lot. But it's useful if I want to find out stuff – like if we get a geography homework where we have to find out what's the capital of Hungary, for example. And I can use it to play chess. And solitaire."

"Can I see?"

So Twitch turned the computer on and they played solitaire for a bit, and then Twitch opened his chess program. Miles didn't know how to play chess – at least, he knew how each piece moved, but that was all. He watched Twitch play for a bit, and then he had a thought.

"Have you got any cards?" he asked.

"Yes, but I don't know many games."

"Can you play crib?"

"No. What's that?"

"I'll teach you. Get your cards out."

So they spent most of the first part of the afternoon playing crib. Twitch seemed to pick it up fairly quickly, and he won more games than Miles did. Miles didn't want to get on to a strip game today because he thought it quite possible that Twitch's parents would look in now and again to make sure he was all right, but he was confident that he'd be able to do that if Twitch came over to his house instead. So once he was sure Twitch had mastered the game he asked him what other stuff he had, and Twitch took him up into the attic and showed him a large model railway, up on trestles that took up about two-thirds of the roof space.

"Wow, Twitch, this is amazing!" exclaimed Miles, who had never seen a layout that large before. "It must have taken ages to build it!"

"My dad started it off years ago, and I usually get extra bits for my birthday and Christmas. Some of the trains just belong to me, and the others belong to me and my dad, because he still really enjoys using the layout. We can run four trains at once, as long as one of them uses the overhead power system. When we get a bit more overhead stuff we'll be able to run two trains on both the main lines. You have to be really careful not to crash if you do that, though. Do you want to see?"

"Bloody hell, yes!"

So they spent the rest of the afternoon playing trains, though really, Twitch said, it wasn't really 'playing', more like 'operating'. Miles didn't care what you called it – he just thought it was fun. Twitch 'owned' two passenger trains and a goods train, and he ran both his passenger trains on the same track to demonstrate how the overhead power system worked.

"Dad wants to set up a proper signalling system," Twitch said. "He says we can set it up so that everything will run automatically: the trains will stop at red lights and go on green ones without us having to touch the controllers. Although actually I like doing it myself. It might be interesting, though."

They went on playing until they were called down to tea, and when Miles went home afterwards he thought maybe he'd have to start building his own model railway. And he'd obviously made a good impression on Twitch's parents, because when he invited Twitch to come and visit him the following weekend they said yes straight away.

When he got home he phoned Graham and found that he hadn't been able to rearrange his session with Jamie, who had been there until ten minutes previously.

"He likes playing crib, though," Graham told him. "We didn't actually play the special version today…" (by which Miles guessed that Graham's parents could hear his end of the conversation) "…but he said he likes the idea of doubles games, like we spoke about. So tomorrow I'm going over to his house and he's going to invite Tom to come round, and Kevin, if he's free, so we can teach them. That'll just leave Jack, and maybe one of us can teach him next week. Then we'll be able to start our league. I'm really looking forward to that – I'm starting to think of some good stuff to do afterwards, if you know what I mean."

Miles definitely knew what he meant, and he found his penis growing hard at the thought of it, because he had a few good ideas for forfeits himself, especially if there were two losers: making them do stuff to each other seemed to him to offer a really entertaining set of possibilities.

And now that he knew that Graham wasn't going to be available the following afternoon he got on the phone again and called Twitch, and Twitch's parents said they'd be happy for him to come over the next day. They'd bring him over after lunch – would half-past two be okay? Miles checked with his parents and then replied that half-past two would be fine, and that they would bring Twitch home afterwards.

***

Twitch arrived the following afternoon dressed as if he was going to be meeting the Queen, in a smart navy blue suit, cream shirt, blue tie and shoes polished to an incredible shine. As soon as his parents had disappeared Twitch wasted no time in removing the tie and the shoes.

"Sorry about the outfit," he told Miles. "I said we'd just be playing quietly in your room, but they seemed to think I had to dress as if we were getting married, or something. Perhaps they thought your parents would be so dazzled by the suit that they wouldn't notice my face."

"If you keep going on about how ugly you are I'll have to hit your face with a cricket bat. Mind you, that might improve it…"

Twitch grinned widely. "Now you're getting the hang of it," he said. "Bet I can think of better insults than you can, though: I've got eleven years' experience, and you've only known me about a month."

"Yes, but I have to look at you every day, whereas you never see yourself at all, unless you've finally found a shatter-proof mirror."

"That just proves you're mad – after all, you have to look at me at school, but you volunteered to look at me on Saturday and Sunday this week."

"You're probably right. Madness runs in the family. Come and meet my brother the alien."

He took Twitch upstairs, knocked on Martin's door, got no answer and went in anyway. Martin had his earphones on and was listening to the Cradle of Filth album Thornography.

"Hey, Mars!" yelled Miles, finally managing to attract his brother's attention. Martin took the headphones off.

"What's the matter, Miles?" Martin asked.

"Nothing. I just want you to meet my friend, that's all. Twitch, this is Mars, the weird alien. Mars, this is Twitch, the human washing machine."

"What do you mean?" asked Martin.

"He means I have epilepsy," said Twitch. "Hi, Mars."

"I don't think you should make jokes about that," Martin said to his brother. "It's a serious condition."

"That's why we make jokes about it," Twitch told him. "Otherwise we'd be walking about with a face like a yard of wet tripe. Well, I would, anyway."

"Oh. I don't really understand humour. I can never tell when someone is being serious and when they're telling a joke."

"If people laugh, it's probably a joke," Miles said. "Anyway, I just wanted you two to say hello to each other, because Twitch is likely to be coming over quite a bit."

"Really?" said Twitch, his face lighting up. "In that case, hello again, Mars. Now you have to say hello."

"Hello," said Martin, obediently.

"There you are, now we've said hello to each other," Twitch said. "Is there anything else we have to do, Miles?"

"Not really. Come and see my room. See you later, Mars."

They went into Miles's room and closed the door.

"Your brother seems nice," Twitch observed. "And not really very alien. What's alien about him?"

"His brain. He doesn't think like a normal person. He's mega-brainy, too, but, like he said, there are a lot of things he doesn't get. Jokes are one of them."

"Well, I like him. So – what are we going to do? I see you haven't got a computer."

"We're not allowed. My mother thinks we'll use it to download rude pictures or, in Mars' case, to learn how to build a nuclear bomb in his bedroom. I'm saving up for an Xbox, but it'll take me ages. I haven't got a train set either, but I think I'm going to get one. I've got loads of soldiers, though, so later we can have a battle. But first let's see if you can remember to play crib."

"Of course I can – I remember beating you quite often yesterday."

"That was just luck."

"That was pure skill."

"Okay then, in that case I challenge you: whoever loses this game has to take all his clothes off and play the next game naked."

That made Twitch stop and think.

"Unless you're scared, of course," Miles went on.

"I'm not scared. It's just that now we're friends I don't want to upset you by shrieking with laughter when I see you bare."

"There's nothing to laugh at. I look good naked."

"Well, if you insist on playing this game, we're going to find out. Can you lock your door?"

"No, but if it's closed nobody will come in without knocking. And just to make sure I'll do something Graham taught me." And he wedged his chair under the door handle.

They started playing, and Miles scored twelve for his first hand and eight in the box, while Twitch scored two, and that made Miles get a bit cocky.

"I think we should play that whoever loses has to spend one minute naked for every point he loses by," he suggested.

"Okay. We've only played one hand so far, remember – you can't expect to keep getting lucky cards."

"It's not luck, it's skill."

"You think so, do you? Okay, we'll see."

Twitch then dealt himself two eights and two sevens and then cut up a six.

"Twenty-four," he said, grinning, when the time came to lay down his cards. "Oh, and look: a six, a three and two nines in the box. I think that's another fourteen, isn't it?"

That rather took the wind out of Miles's sails, and as the game went on Twitch got further and further ahead, until finally he won by a mammoth thirty-seven points.

"Good thing we're not playing outdoors," commented Twitch. "Maybe we should, next time. Or we could play at school in the lunch break if you like. That'd give you a chance to show everyone how good you look naked. Come on, then, I'm waiting."

With a sigh Miles checked that the chair was still properly wedged and then began to get undressed, but Twitch stopped him when he got down to his pants.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't need to take them off really. Let's play another game."

Miles stared at him. "Of course I need to," he said. "We had a deal, and I don't back out of things, especially when I've agreed something with a friend. I always keep my word, Twitch. So, my thirty-seven minutes start… now."

He pulled his pants off and then hit the stopwatch button on his watch. Twitch looked at him, and Miles moved his hands out of the way so that he could see properly. And as Twitch looked at it Miles felt himself becoming erect.

"Wow!" commented Twitch as it grew before his eyes.

"What do you mean by 'wow'?"

"Just 'Wow', I suppose. As in, 'Wow, that's getting really hard'."

"Does yours get like this?"

"Sometimes. If you win the next game you might even find out. It's your deal, isn't it?"

Miles thought that that sounded promising, so he grabbed the cards, shuffled them, put them down so that Twitch could cut and then dealt six each. For quite a while he was behind, and he was afraid he wouldn't get to see Twitch naked after all, but then Twitch hit a run of really bad hands and Miles was able to catch up and pass him. He eventually won by eight points.

"I'm still going to be dressed before you," Twitch pointed out. "You've still got eleven minutes to go."

"I don't care. Strip."

Twitch stood up and took off his shirt, then his trousers and his socks, and finally his briefs.

"Prepare to be amazed," he said, and he stood in front of Miles and took his hands away from his groin.

Miles found himself looking at a penis that was still soft and so wasn't very big. Like the rest of Twitch's body it was very pale, but what made it interesting was that the skin didn't quite cover the tip, and so there was a little bit of the head of the penis visible. Twitch's balls looked about the same size as Miles's own, though the left one seemed to hang a little lower than the right one. And there was a scar on Twitch's abdomen between his belly button and his right hip-bone.

"Appendicitis," he explained when Miles touched the scar lightly. "Typical Twitch: my body keeps trying to kill me. Maybe that's another good reason to stop looking in mirrors: if the rest of me doesn't keep getting reminded what my face looks like it won't keep trying to commit suicide. That happened last summer. Fortunately my parents got me to hospital in time."

Miles wasn't sure what to say to that, so he turned his attention a little lower once more. "I think we ought to see what happens when that goes stiff, don't you?" he commented.

"Well… okay, I suppose so, seeing that yours seems to be getting that way again," said Twitch, and he took hold of himself and squeezed a little, and soon it was sticking up nicely. It was about the same size as Graham's, but it looked different because the skin rolled back as it got hard, leaving the whole of the head exposed.

"It looks interesting like that," said Miles.

"What, stiff, you mean?"

"Well, yes, that too. But I meant the way the end isn't covered in skin."

"Oh. Apparently they decided there was a problem with it – the hole in the end of the skin was too small, so they had to cut a bit off. Sometimes I think they threw the wrong bit away."

"Oh, shut up, Twitch. You look okay."

"Well, there's one way in which I'm better off than you, anyway."

"What's that?"

"I get to look at you while you have to look at me. You look good, Miles – you've got nice muscles, and a big you-know-what… You were right: you do look good naked. So, we've got another five minutes before I can get dressed, so… do you know how to make your thingy feel nice?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you take hold of it like this, and then you sort of… wait a moment, I'll show you. Turn round."

So Miles turned his back and Twitch came and stood close behind him and then reached round and took hold of his erection, squeezed it and started to rub it.

"Now try it yourself," he said, after a few seconds, and so Miles did.

"That feels nice," he said. "But it was more interesting when you did it to me. Do you want to do it some more?"

"Really? I mean, I've never done this with someone else before – well, that's obvious, I suppose: who could look at me undressed without vomiting, except you? Would you like to try to do it to me, so I can find out what it feels like when someone else does it? If you want you can put on some gloves first, just to make sure you don't catch Twitchitis…"

"I think I'll risk it," said Miles, and he spun Twitch round so that he was standing with his back to him and then reached round, took hold of his friend's erection and started to rub it gently.

"Hey, you're right," said Twitch. "That does feel nice. Hold me a little bit more firmly and rub a little faster… yes, like that. That feels brilliant."

Miles went on rubbing it for a while, and then Twitch started to… well, twitch a bit. Miles stopped what he was doing.

"Are you okay?" he said, afraid that a seizure was imminent.

"Yes – just don't stop, please!"

So Miles started again, and after a little longer Twitch gasped and wriggled and then went tense, and Miles was seriously afraid that he was about to have a fit. But instead Twitch relaxed, took a deep breath and said, "Thanks, Miles, that was really good. You can let go now."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Look, lie on the bed and I'll do it to you, and then you'll see what happens."

Miles obediently lay on the bed and Twitch sat down next to him, took hold of his erection and began to rub it steadily. Miles thought it felt really nice, and it got nicer and nicer… and then…

"Hey, Twitch, it's starting to feel strange."

"Good. It's supposed to."

"But it feels as if…"

"You won't. Trust me."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain. Just hold it in."

So Miles struggled to hold it in. He was sure he was going to pee on himself… and then the feeling suddenly got even better, and he realised why Twitch had been wriggling about. Finally it got too much for him and he arched his back and thrust up against Twitch's hand…

"Bloody hell, Twitch, that's incredible," he said, when he got his breath back. "What makes it feel like that?"

"I've no idea. But it's nice, isn't it?"

"God, yes. Thanks for showing me… do you think we can do that again sometimes?"

"Of course – whenever we visit each other, if you like."

"Brilliant! Okay, let's get dressed and I'll get my soldiers out."

So they put their clothes back on and had a war game across the bedroom floor until it was time for tea, and after tea Miles's mother drove Twitch home. Miles went along for the ride.

"Thanks for asking me," Twitch said as he got out of the car. "I had a lot of fun."

"Me, too. Can you come again next week?"

"Probably. I'll tell you at school tomorrow."

"Great! Bye, Twitch!"

Well, Miles thought on his way back home, that was really interesting. I wonder if Twitch knows any other stuff like that…

It's fairly clear now that Miles is starting to like Twitch a lot, so much so that he's going to be playing a major part in the forthcoming cribbage league. Also in the next chapter we'll see what happens when Martin and Luke actually talk to each other…

Chapter Five

In this chapter Martin and Luke finally have a conversation with each other and discover that they have certain things in common. And Miles and his friends get the cribbage league under way, and what happens as the league progresses is going to have a profound effect on a lot of people…

Ten minutes after Miles had brought his friend in to be introduced Martin turned off his sound system, put on his jacket and set off to keep his rendezvous in the dip. He was very nervous: he just hoped the other boy would give him a chance to explain and to demonstrate that he was no threat to him. A couple of times he almost stopped and went home, but he forced himself to keep going, and when he reached the dip he found the other boy already there, leaning on the branch and waiting for him. He was fully dressed, and his spear was leaning against the branch next to him, which didn't exactly reassure Martin: after all, there would be nothing to stop the boy from killing him and then going back through the portal.

"So you decided to come," Luke said, as Martin stopped a couple of yards in front of him. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"I wanted to get my bag back. And I wanted to talk to you, too. What happened to your face?"

Luke gaped at him: nobody ever talked about his scars – in fact, nobody ever looked him in the face for more than a second or two: his appearance seemed to embarrass them. But this boy was looking at him quite openly and didn't seem in the least bit embarrassed.

"I had an accident," he said. "Nearly two years ago now. I fell through a plate glass window. I nearly cut my left arm off, too. Nobody ever talks about it, though."

"Why not?"

"I think they feel embarrassed, and they don't want to remind me I've got an ugly scar running right down the left side of my face."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd forget, so I can't see why they would be worried about reminding you."

Luke stared at him. "Has anyone ever told you you're a bit… well, strange?" he asked.

"Loads of times. My brother says I'm an alien. And maybe he's right: sometimes I do feel I don't really belong here."

"I think he's right. So, anyway, why were you spying on me yesterday – especially after I told you to stay away?"

"Well… look, first can you please tell me where you live?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to know how you get there."

Luke stared at him. "You climb up out of the dip and walk that way for about five minutes," he said, pointing over his shoulder. "My house is one of the ones on the main road."

"Oh. I mean… is that really true?"

"Of course it's true. Why would I lie?"

Martin's shoulders slumped. "I was sure…"

"What?"

"I thought you came from another dimension. I was convinced there was some sort of a portal into another world here somewhere, and that you had come through it."

"Why would you think that, for God's sake? Don't I look human? It's only a scar, after all."

"It's not the scar. It's the radio thing behind your ear, too – and of course what you were doing here. I thought you were trying to escape from a boring life somewhere else, just being free to run about naked and do whatever you wanted to. It seemed to make sense somehow."

"Well, it's true, in a way. It's not a radio, though, it's a hearing aid: I'm deaf. Or 'hearing impaired', if you want to use the politically correct term, though the word 'deaf' doesn't actually bother me, so why other people think they have to pussyfoot around it is beyond me. Anyway, there's one in the other ear, too. I'm not completely deaf without them, but I'd have trouble understanding you unless you spoke very clearly and quite loud. The rest of it… well, it is nice to be able to come here and pretend I'm the only person in the world. Once or twice I've taken the hearing aids off, too, and just sat here quietly. But I haven't dared to do that since I first saw you: I needed to be able to hear if anyone was coming."

"Sorry. So that's why you don't wear any clothes, so you can pretend to be a wild boy living alone in the jungle?"

"Sort of. It'd be interesting. That's why I practice with my spear, so that if I really was on my own I could hunt for meat."

"There isn't much round here that would be worth eating, unless you were to kill one of the farmer's cows, and I don't think he'd like that."

"He probably wouldn't," agreed Luke. "So you weren't really trying to spy on me, you just wanted to see whether I disappeared through a hole into another world?"

"That's right. I wasn't trying to look at you undressed or anything."

"No, you wouldn't have known I did that, I suppose. Still, I like being naked outdoors. It feels interesting. And if I really was a wild boy I wouldn't have any clothes, would I?"

"No. Have you read the Jungle Book?"

"No, but I've seen the film."

"The film's just silly. In the book Mowgli can't speak a human language at all until he spends time in the human village when he is about twelve. Before that he lives like an animal – he's naked, his hair has never been cut, he's dirty – he swims when he feels particularly dirty, but that's all. He eats raw meat, and sometimes wild honey and berries. I don't think you could really live like that in this country: it's too cold to run about naked in the winter, and there isn't any decent meat available – in the book Mowgli is actually forbidden by the wolves to eat cattle, so you couldn't really kill a cow even if the farmer wasn't around. And there aren't any wolves here to help you hunt. If you were really wild I think you'd probably die fairly quickly."

"I suppose that's true… still, it would be interesting to try to live that way for a while. It wouldn't be too cold at this time of year. And I could cheat and bring some food from home. I was thinking about doing it at half-term for a couple of days. And since you know so much about it, how about if you came and did it, too?"

Martin thought about it for a moment. It wouldn't exactly be like finding another world, but it would mean living a bit differently. And now he knew that the other boy wasn't really angry with him, maybe it would be interesting to get to know him a bit…

"Scared?" said Luke, when Martin didn't answer. "Or is it just that you don't trust me? Perhaps you think I'll kill and eat you."

"I'm not scared. I think it would be interesting. But it's true that if we were both living wild miles from anywhere we'd probably fight when we first met. We'd be in competition for limited food resources."

"You sound like a BBC documentary," said Luke, grinning at him. "Do you always talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know," (and he did an exaggerated version of Martin's voice), "'We'd be in competition for limited food resources'."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Well, it just sounds a bit… well, poncey. Maybe it's just because you're strange, like I said. But I'd still like to play jungle boys with you."

"I think I'd like that, too. But I'm not sure about sleeping outdoors with nothing on: even in late May I don't think it would be very warm."

"I was actually going to cheat and use a tent."

"That would certainly be cheating. In the book it says Mowgli could weave wood together to make a shelter… but I don't think there's a lot of suitable wood here. And a tent would definitely be warmer, especially if you cheat some more and use a sleeping bag."

"I was going to try just using a blanket… but I admit I'd thought about bringing a sleeping-bag along, just in case."

"Well, okay, if you don't mind cheating a bit I would like to play. I expect I can get permission."

"Great! Then I suppose we ought to get to know each other a bit first. My name's Luke."

"I'm Martin. But you already know that, of course. Have you got my bag?"

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten. It's here – hold on a moment."

He ran up to the top of the bank and retrieved Martin's bag from behind one of the larger tree-trunks, bringing it back and handing it over.

"Interesting music," he said. "I've never heard of any of those bands, but I played a couple of the CDs last night and I really liked them – I hope you don't mind."

"Not really. If you want to borrow the CDs you didn't have time to listen to, you can."

"Really? Thanks, I will. And the book looks interesting, too – I like books about invented worlds. It's a pity there isn't really a door to another world here, like you thought, because I'd definitely want to explore it if there was. So, what other books have you read?"

"Well…"

Sunday May 4th

It turned out that the angry boy wasn't really angry after all – actually he turned out to be quite nice. But he doesn't come from another dimension, so it looks as if I was wrong about there being a portal in the dip, which is a pity. Still, we had a nice afternoon talking about books and music, and he seems to like a lot of the same things as I do: he says he really liked the Edenbridge CD, and the Within Temptation one. And he had a quick look at the Stephen Donaldson book I was reading, and I've offered to lend him the first book in the series so that he can read them all himself in the right order.

He's asked me to play with him during half-term. We're going to pretend to be feral boys living wild in the jungle. We talked about it quite a lot and we agreed that we're going to try to do it as realistically as we can, except that we're going to use a tent because it's too cold in this country to sleep outdoors naked. We're going to pretend it's a cave, and that the blankets we're going to use are really animal skins. We decided that we'll probably have to start as enemies, because that's what would happen in real life, and then learn to work together later.

I'm not really worried about being undressed in front of him, because I've already seen that we're not very different, but I'm going to have to try to cut the hair off the day before we start the game, because I don't want him to know I've got Monkey Disease… if I really have, of course. It's difficult, not knowing whether Miles is just teasing me or if it's real. But I'm going to cut the hair off anyway, just in case, because I don't want Luke to think there's something wrong with me.

That's his name – Luke Sinclair. He lives not far from the dip in one of the houses on the main road, the ones I saw when I walked down the lane just after we moved here. And he's deaf, though I wouldn't have known if he hadn't told me, because he wears two hearing aids that work really well. And he's got a weak left arm, because he had an accident and cut himself really badly a couple of years ago. He took off his shirt and showed me the scars, and they're quite bad – they go round his shoulder and down his arm. He said it took months of physiotherapy to get his arm working again afterwards, and it's still not perfect now. He's got a scar on his face, too, which he seems a bit sensitive about but which I think just makes him look interesting. And he thinks I'm weird, of course, but he still seems to like me. So maybe I've found a friend at last. I'm going to visit his house next weekend, and he's going to show me his books and CDs. I'm looking forward to it.

On Monday at lunchtime Graham sat down with Miles to sort out their cribbage league.

"Tom's in," he reported. "Not sure about Kevin, though – he wasn't there yesterday. Tom's going to try to talk him into it, but he thinks he might bottle out when he finds out Robyn's playing. And Jack already knows how to play, and he's keen to join in, too. So we've got eight players if Kevin plays, or seven if he doesn't, which will be a problem, 'cos we'll have to recruit someone else. And there's another problem, too: Rob doesn't want to partner his sister.

He said he'd prefer to be my partner, because we sit together, but… well…"

"That's okay," said Miles. "It would be nice if we could be partners, but I don't mind too much if I have to go with Tom. Or I might find someone else who wants to play, just in case Kevin does decide to join in."

"Really? You're not going to be mad if I partner Rob instead of you?"

"Of course not. But it does mean you're going to end up naked more often than if we played together."

"Depends who you end up with. Maybe it'll be a complete idiot like Jamie."

"I'll tell him you said that."

"No, you won't, because you wouldn't drop a mate in it like that. Anyway, I've told everyone they have to sort out teams by the end of the week, and then we can start playing at the weekend."

***

On the Wednesday Graham told him that Kevin had decided he did want to play after all – "He thinks he's too classy to lose to Robyn," Graham explained. "Except I haven't told him yet that Robyn's going to be partnering Jack, and Jack has been playing crib for ages. And we've got another player who wants to join in, too: turns out Toby knows how to play and thinks he's good enough to beat everyone."

Toby was the class swot, with teacher's pet tendencies like sitting at the front of the class and thrusting his hand into the air every time a question was asked. He wore glasses and was useless at football, and so wasn't exactly top of the class popularity league.

"Who's got landed with partnering him?" Miles asked.

"Jamie. Actually he volunteered – he seemed to think that Toby's brain would help him to beat everyone. So now I definitely want to beat them – I want to see Good Boy Toby running about starkers. That'll be funny. So what about you? Have you found a partner yet?"

"I think so," said Miles. "I'll tell you for definite later."

"It's not your brother, is it? I mean, that would be really funny, but we'd have to let everyone else in on the Monkey Disease thing so they don't give the game away. And if Kevin loses when Mars is there he'll know we're winding him up."

"It won't be Mars unless I get really desperate," Miles confirmed. "As far as I'm concerned, teasing Mars is just for you and me to do."

***

"You want me to be your partner in a proper cribbage tournament?" asked Twitch. "Do you think I'm good enough?"

"I think you're better than most of the others. I don't know about Jack or Toby because I've never played them, but the others are all beginners, the same as you. I think we could beat them. But… we're playing for forfeits, so if we lose we'll have to strip. Are you okay with that?"

Twitch thought about it for a moment. "Sure," he said, eventually. "As long as it's both of us. And they're not likely to laugh at me any more than they do now whatever happens."

"Then we're a team," said Miles, and Twitch gave him a big smile.

***

"Sure, why not? I've shown him how to play, and he's got to be better than Jamie at least. He's okay, Graham. Once you get past the face and the illness he's a nice kid, and I like him. And if we're letting Saint Toby play, we really have to let Twitch in, too. At least he's not obnoxious."

"True. Okay, he's in. So now all we have to do is to draw up a fixture list. Are we going to play one game at a time or two?"

"It'd be funnier if we played two – that way there'd be more people there to laugh at the losers. As long as I don't lose, of course."

"Well, you're going to lose at least one game, because you're going to have to play me and Rob sooner or later. So, let's see: there are five teams, so that means…if everyone plays everyone else once, er… how many games is that altogether?"

"Ten," Miles told him. "If we're only going to play each other once, that is. If we're going to play home and away it'll be twenty games altogether, which might be a better way of finding out which really is the best team."

"Then we could get a couple of games played this weekend, a couple next weekend, and then the rest during half-term…."

They sat down at Graham's desk and drew up a fixture list along the lines of 'Team One will play Team Two on Saturday May 10th', and when the list was complete they did a random draw to decide which would be Team One, and so on.

***

"We're playing our first game on Saturday," Miles told Twitch. "You will be allowed out, won't you?"

"If it's with you, I'm pretty sure I will. Where are we playing?"

"At Tom's house… I don't suppose you know Tom, because he doesn't go to this school. He lives next door to Jamie. We're supposed to be there at three o'clock, but if you can get a lift round to mine earlier we can go on to Tom's together."

"I'm sure that'll be okay. Who are we playing?"

"Jamie and Toby, so we'd better win. We can't get shown up by a four-eyed swot like Toby."

"We won't be. If they get ahead of us I'll stare at him until his brain turns to stone. I'm part-Medusa, you know."

Miles hadn't heard of the Medusa, so Twitch told him the Greek legend of the hideous monster who was so ugly that anyone who looked at her was immediately turned to stone.

"I don't think you're quite that bad. Maybe if I pushed your face through a couple of walls it would help, though – shall we try?"

"Not unless you want me to pull you through after me. So we're really going to play the version where the losers have to strip?"

"I think so. It might be worse than just having to strip, too – there might be forfeits involved."

"Well, we're not going to lose, so that won't matter, will it?"

"I hope not. And at least if we do lose Robyn won't be there on Saturday, because her first game isn't until next week."

"It might be quite interesting to make a girl undress… though I think I like making you undress more. When it's you and me we can make each other feel nice."

"Well, Robyn could make us feel nice, too."

"Yes, but… I don't think I'd want a girl touching me there. Maybe when I get a bit older I will, but not yet."

"Me neither, to be honest. Let's just stick with each other, at least until we get to secondary school."

"I'd like that." And Twitch gave him a big, toothy smile.

***

On Friday the eight players (minus Tom and Kevin, of course) sat down to agree on exactly how the tournament was going to work.

"The losers of each game have to strip and then get a forfeit," Graham explained. "It can be whatever the winners say. But there are rules: you can't do anything that will get us into trouble with grown-ups, and you can't hurt anyone really seriously – like so they need to see a doctor or something. We're friends, after all. Of course, whichever team comes last in the league is going to be in big trouble, because the rest of us will all be able to suggest forfeits, and they'll be pretty bad."

"I think there should be more forfeits for each game you lose," said Toby. "If you lose the second game you get two; the third game and you get four; the fourth game and you get eight.

And the more forfeits you get, the more serious they become. That'll punish the really useless players."

"Anyone object to that?" asked Graham.

Quite a few of them looked uncertain, but nobody was prepared to admit that they didn't expect to win all their games.

"Okay, then, maybe we'll do it the way Toby says. But… whatever happens stays between us, okay? Nobody tells the rest of the class, and nobody makes fun of anyone in front of the rest of the class. We're friends… well, maybe Toby and Twitch aren't really friends with the rest of us, but that doesn't make any difference. This is our game, and it stays private. Okay?"

Everyone nodded or otherwise indicated their agreement.

"Right, then the first two games are at Tom's house on Saturday afternoon at three. Tom's parents are going out and Kevin's in charge, so we won't have to worry about grown-ups getting in the way. Jack and Robyn, you don't play this week, but I don't see why you shouldn't come and watch if you want."

So much for Robyn not being there, thought Miles. Still, we're not going to lose, are we?

Saturday May 10th

I went round to Luke's house this morning and stayed for lunch. We listened to some music – he has a computer, so he was able to show me something called You Tube, where there are thousands of music tracks by a huge number of bands from all over the world. He played me some stuff that he likes, and I told him about some of the bands I like and he was able to find some of their music on the site. I think I could have happily sat there all week investigating new music, but I expect I'll be going to visit him again. At least, I hope so.

He's got quite a lot of books, too. I already knew that he likes fantasy and science fiction, like I do, and he has some of the same books as me, but he's also got quite a lot I didn't know about. If we stay friends maybe we can swap books sometimes.

He goes to school in the town that's about five miles [8 km] from where we live, but he doesn't like it much. I think it's because people call him names because he's deaf and because of his scar. That seems stupid to me – after all, there's nothing he can do to change either condition, so what's the point in talking about it? If he smoked or something I could understand people telling him he should stop, but talking about his ears seems completely pointless.

I told him I don't go to school and he was jealous – he said it must be wonderful not to have to try to learn stuff that's never going to be any use, and not to have loads of idiots around you all day long. And I said that I like it, although sometimes I find it difficult not meeting people, because even if I'm not completely human I still sometimes wish I had someone to talk to. Of course I've got Miles, but he's younger than me and not quite on my level, so it isn't quite the same as having a proper friend.

Then we talked about our project for half term. We're going to try to stay out for at least two nights, and maybe three, though the problem is going to be food: as I pointed out last weekend, there's not really going to be much meat we could catch – maybe a rabbit if we were very lucky, but that wouldn't really go far. We can take some food with us, but it probably wouldn't keep very well. We might have to cheat and go home for meals, but it would be much better if we didn't have to do that.

We're going to try to behave as we really would if we'd been raised by wild animals. I'm going to be like Mowgli, raised by wolves, and he's going to be like Tarzan, raised by apes, because he likes climbing trees. Of course, it means we probably won't understand each other at all. I know in the book Baloo teaches Mowgli to understand all the creatures in the jungle, but it'll be more interesting if we can't communicate properly at first. We'll have to learn to communicate using grunts and gestures and so on.

We want to do it as realistically as we can, so we're going to start out as enemies – or at least, as distrustful of each other – and then see what happens. I'm looking forward to it, because I think it'll be a really interesting experiment. I just hope it doesn't rain. If it does we'll still do it, I think, but if the weather is nice it'll be a lot more comfortable.

Next weekend he's going to come here. I've warned him that I haven't got a computer, but I expect we'll find something to do. Perhaps we can just go out for a walk together – and maybe we should check the dip really carefully, just in case there actually is a portal there somewhere…

Twitch came over to Miles's house early on Saturday afternoon. He was disappointed to find that Martin had gone out as he'd have liked to find out a bit more about Miles's alien brother, but it did mean that they had a little longer to practice playing crib. Miles showed him what to do that was different when playing with a partner, though that didn't take long. They thought about playing a strip game but decided that they didn't really have time, so they just played a few more practice hands and then got Miles's mother to drive them over to Tom's house.

Most of the others were already there, and Jamie greeted Twitch's arrival with a cry of, "Oh no, it's Twitch!" whilst making a warding-off, sign-of-the-cross gesture with his forefingers. Twitch responded by hooking his hands into claws and snarling at him theatrically in the style of a thwarted vampire.

Once everyone was there – and Jack and Robyn both turned up, which meant that someone was going to have to strip in front of a girl – the first game, between Graham and Rob and Tom and Kevin, got under way. The game fluctuated for a while but eventually Tom and Kevin drew ahead, finally winning by fourteen points.

"Come on, then," said Graham to his partner, "let's get it over with."

They stripped off and the audience looked at them with interest. Both were embarrassed to be naked in front of a girl (even if it was Rob's sister), and so neither had an erection.

"What's the forfeit, then?" asked Graham.

"You have to tickle each other's balls until you both get hard," said Tom, grinning at them.

That was really embarrassing in front of an audience, but it was within the rules and so they had to do it, while the audience jeered and called them names. Eventually both got erections, and after everyone had had a good look Tom said that the forfeit was over and they could get dressed.

And then it was Miles and Twitch against Jamie and Toby. And the cards were just plain unfriendly, and although neither of them did anything wrong Miles and Twitch lost by thirty-eight points.

"Now that's a real thumping," said Graham, grinning at Miles. "And I thought you were good at this game. Come on, then, let's see."

So reluctantly Miles and Twitch had to strip, and again the circumstances meant that neither was erect when their underwear came off.

"Shall we make them play with each other, like Graham and Rob?" Jamie asked Toby.

"Well, they lost so badly I think we should make them do something far more embarrassing," said Toby, grinning nastily. "So, yes, you've got to make each other stick up, but while you're doing it you have to kiss each other."

That brought a chorus of 'yeurchhhh!' sounds, and Twitch said, "You do realise you're condemning Miles to death? Nobody who kissed me could possibly survive!"

That got an appreciative laugh, but Toby refused to change his mind, and so they stood facing each other, took hold of each other's genitals and, very reluctantly, brought their lips together.

"You have to do it properly or it doesn't count," said Toby. "Pretend you really fancy each other!"

Miles moved a little closer to his partner and put his left arm around him, and Twitch did the same, and gradually they managed to relax a bit. They did their best to block out the chorus of abuse and just concentrate on each other, and soon Miles did that so successfully that he began to get an erection. And once it happened to him it happened to Twitch, too, and soon they were both fully erect.

"Satisfied?" asked Miles, stepping back so that Toby could see their condition.

"Look at the lover-boys!" was Toby's reaction, but Jamie added that as far as he was concerned they had done their forfeit and could get dressed. They didn't need telling twice.

The gang stayed at Tom's for a while longer, playing some friendly games of cards or playing computer games on Kevin's PlayStation, and then gradually drifted away. It wasn't too far from here to Twitch's house, so he and Miles decided to walk, rather than waiting for a lift.

"I'm really sorry they made you kiss me," said Twitch, once they were alone.

"I'm not. It felt sort of nice, to be honest."

"You don't mean that – you're just trying to make me feel better, aren't you? Because I don't see how you could actually enjoy kissing me. I'd have thought you'd be more likely to throw up."

"No, I'm not trying to make you feel better, and yes, I did sort of enjoy it. Obviously I've never kissed a boy before – or a girl, come to that – and at first it felt strange, but once I managed to relax a bit it felt nice. If that lot hadn't all been there laughing at us I think I'd have enjoyed it."

"I don't believe you."

"No? Come here."

There was an alleyway just ahead of them and Miles towed Twitch into it, so that they were out of sight of the road, and then pulled him into his arms and kissed him. And this time he was able to relax straight away, and Twitch put his arms round him and held him gently, so Miles put his arms round Twitch's shoulders…

A couple of minutes later he stepped back. "Okay, that's what it's like to do it in private," he said. "How did that feel?"

Twitch stared at him. He didn't seem able to speak at first, but then he said, "We… we're not supposed to do that. We're both boys. Boys shouldn't kiss."

"Why not?"

"They just shouldn't, that's all. It's weird." He looked troubled, and Miles realised he might have spoiled their friendship.

"I'm sorry, Twitch," he said. "I won't do that again. It's just… I thought you liked it when we did it at Tom's."

Twitch was silent. He walked back to the road and started walking towards his house once more, though he did wait for Miles to catch up with him. For five minutes or more neither of them spoke, and then Twitch said, really quietly, "I did."

"Huh?"

"I said I did like it. But it still seems weird, like you're treating me like a girl or something."

"You're not a girl. You're a boy, and you're my friend, and I don't see why we can't do something if we both like doing it. I mean, we're not supposed to rub each other's thingies, either, but we both enjoyed doing that."

"Yes, but that's different: obviously doing that is something only boys can do together. But kissing just seems a bit too girly, and I don't want to be treated like a girl."

"Maybe it's me that's the girl – after all, I'm much prettier than you."

Twitch managed to smile at that. "But I don't want to treat you like a girl, either," he said. "I like us both being boys."

"So do I. It just seems silly not to do something we like just because people would call us names if they knew. If they knew we undress and rub each other they'd call us names, too, but I don't want to stop doing that."

"That's true… Still…" And he fell silent again, and this time he stayed quiet until they reached his house.

Miles said hello to Twitch's parents and followed him up to his room.

"I'd better go," he said, "or I'll be late for tea. I'll see you on Monday."

"Wait," said Twitch. He stepped in front of Miles and put his arms round him. "I don't mind hugging," he said. "Boys are allowed to do that – even footballers do it, in front of thousands of people. And I did like us having our arms round each other. Is it okay for us to hug, do you think?"

"It might be better not to do it in class, but when we're on our own I'm sure it'll be okay. And I think it feels nice, too."

"Good. So let's just do that for now. And maybe I'll feel better about kissing when we've been friends a bit longer."

"Okay. Of course, we don't have to kiss on the lips: I could kiss you on the cheek. Mars kisses me like that sometimes, usually to say thank you for letting him stay with me when there's a thunderstorm. He hates those. Anyway, kissing like that isn't really girly. What do you think?"

"We can try, if you like."

"Okay." And Miles gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and Twitch replied with one that was a little slower and gentler.

"I think that's okay," he said.

"Good. In that case, thanks for being my crib partner, Twitch. I know we lost today, but that was just really rubbish cards. We'll win next time." And he kissed him on the cheek once more, though a little more lingeringly. And Twitch kissed him back in the same way and smiled at him.

"Yes, I think that feels okay," he said. "We can definitely keep doing that if you want."

"I want. But right now I want my tea. See you at school."

In fact Miles didn't have to walk home as he had expected because Twitch's father offered him a lift, which he accepted gratefully. But he did wonder why it had felt so nice kissing Twitch – after all, Twitch was right when he said it was a bit girly. He was starting to think that perhaps Mars wasn't the only weird person in the family…

The relationship between Martin and Luke is developing nicely, and the one between Miles and Twitch is evolving into something quite serious. And we'll find out more about both partnerships in the next chapter.

NEXT PART