David Clarke

Jeremy Fielding Collection

Chapters 19-22

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Chapter Nineteen

Now we need to find out how Sim and Uzzy got on with their camping trip. After the near-catastrophe last time Sim took his clothes off outdoors, you can bet he'll be a little less enthusiastic this time, but it's also safe to assume that Uzzy will make it really difficult for him to say no. And since Awais is also going to be in the general vicinity, Sim may well find himself outnumbered…

Oh, and Weasley – this one's your chapter.

Sim and Uzzy had been looking forward to their camping trip for a while now: Sim had never slept in a tent before at all, and Uzzy had only done so once when he had visited his aunt and uncle, who lived in Leicester, the previous summer, and had spent one night sleeping in a small tent in the garden with his cousin Asim, who was two years older than him. That night had been sort of fun, but it hadn't been like real camping because they had spent the whole evening indoors, eating at the table with everyone else and then watching television, only going out to the tent when it was time for bed. This promised to be different, because they would be away from the house (okay, only a quarter of a mile [400 m] away, but still…) and because they would be eating there. At least, unless they decided to go to the chip shop instead, of course…

They met at Uzzy's house on the Wednesday morning, and after lunch (Uzzy's mother insisted on giving them a decent meal, since they would be responsible for cooking their own food for the following twenty-four hours) they loaded up their bikes and rode the short distance to Gainsborough Lane. A little way along, the lane made a sharp turn to the right, and it was at that point that they left the lane and followed a track for a hundred yards or so. Then they wheeled their bikes through the belt of trees to their left and found themselves in an open area surrounded by trees, with quite thick woodland on one side of them and the belt of trees on the other. This was an ideal spot, protected on all sides by trees.

They found a spot in the corner of the open ground, close to the wood, and there they pitched the tent. Neither was really an expert at this, but Uzzy had practised a couple of times in his garden with his father giving directions but trying to let Uzzy do the actual work, and as a result they got the tent properly set up without too much difficulty. It was an A-frame tent, and so there were no poles inside to get in the way, and that left them plenty of room for their sleeping bags – though since, of course, they were intending to use them zipped together into a double, they didn't need a lot of room for them anyway.

"Good," said Uzzy, once the tent was set out properly, with their sleeping bags and pillows ready to use and everything else neatly put to one side. "Now, obviously since there's nobody here but us…"

"Oh, come on, Uzzy," said Sim, getting the message straight away. "You can't really ecthpect me to u… undress out here. I mean, look what happened last time."

"Yes, but that was last time. This time we're not on a path – there's absolutely no reason why anyone should come here, especially with the tent where it is: you can't see it from three sides at all, and you can only see it from the fourth side if you deliberately leave the track and push your way through the trees. It's perfectly safe. And you know the rules…"

"Yes, but… come on, Uzzy, please?"

"Now, you're not going to be disobedient, are you? 'Cos if you are I might have to change my mind about not using brambles and holly and nettles and stuff…"

Had it not been for the near-disaster on the High Wold Sim would probably have been only too happy to strip off, but as it was he was more than a little scared to do it again: he was sure that next time they got caught it would be by someone nasty, not by a bunch of kids who turned out to be good fun. So, uncharacteristically, he went on arguing and protesting for a bit longer. As for Uzzy, he understood why Sim was nervous, and he was half-inclined to let him off; but he loved seeing his friend naked, and having him naked outdoors would, he felt sure, make him feel even more dominant than usual. And, besides, there were things he still wanted to try doing to Sim, stuff he hadn't had time to try on the Wold. So he stuck to his guns and insisted, and eventually Sim's devotion to his friend – and his natural enjoyment of being exposed – won out over his fear of discovery by other people. So he stood up and stripped off, though once again his nervousness meant that his penis was small and soft when he removed his pants.

"That took long enough," commented Uzzy, idly swishing a birch switch he had cut from a nearby tree. "I've obviously been letting you get away with far too much lately, because you're getting really stroppy: first you rebelled and had me thrown in the pool, and now you have to be told four or five times before you obey a simple order. It's obvious that you're going to have to be punished. Okay, come with me – no, wait: put your shoes back on first."

Sim did that, and Uzzy picked up his bag and led him into the wood. A short distance into the trees he found what he was looking for: a fairly young tree whose trunk was not too thick and that had no branches too low down. And, once again overriding Sim's nervous objections, he pushed him against the tree and tied him into position, exactly as he had done on the Wold, his hands tied behind the tree and with another piece of rope around his waist more or less immobilising him. Finally Uzzy removed Sim's shoes.

"Now, you stay there like a good little slave," he said. "I've got to go and tidy up a bit, because you left your clothes all over the place back at the tent. But I'll be back in a bit. Don't go anywhere, will you?" And he grinned and walked away, carrying Sim's shoes.

Of course, Sim could barely move, so there was no risk of him going anywhere at all, and once Uzzy had disappeared from sight he began to feel really nervous again. Uzzy was only gone for three or four minutes, but Sim was really glad when he saw him coming back through the trees. But the relief was very short-lived.

"Are you nice and comfortable?" Uzzy asked him. "I hope so, because I'm going to have to pop back home and get a couple of things I forgot to bring. And maybe I'll stop and ask if Kam and Awais fancy a kick-about for a bit before I come back, so I might be a while. I'll try to get back before it gets dark, though: I wouldn't want you to get eaten by foxes, or something."

And he grinned and walked away, completely ignoring Sim's panic-stricken pleas for him to wait, to untie him, to let him come too…

Uzzy had played here a few times without ever meeting anyone, and so he was confident that Sim would be perfectly safe. But of course he wasn't really going to go back home and leave him. Instead he went back to the tent, stretched out and relaxed for about ten minutes, and then got up and strolled back into the wood.

"He's over here," he called to absolutely nobody, as he re-entered the trees. "He looks so funny… come and see!"

Of course, Sim was in a complete panic by the time Uzzy got back to the tree, palpably unaccompanied.

"Calm down," said Uzzy, grinning at him. "You know I wouldn't really bring anyone to look at you while you're like this… although if I had a phone number for those kids from London, maybe I could call them… anyway, I thought you trusted me?"

And this piece of psychology worked to perfection: immediately Sim went from being angry with his friend to feeling guilty for believing for a moment that Uzzy would have betrayed him.

"Sorry," he said, humbly. "I should have known you wouldn't tell anyone."

"Yes, you should, and now you'll have to be punished," said Uzzy. "Come with me."

He untied Sim and led him back to the tent. He'd brought Sim's shoes with him, which was necessary because walking in the wood in bare feet would have been very difficult due to the number of thorns and brambles in the undergrowth. And when Sim got back to the tent he found that his shoes were the only pieces of clothing he still had: not only had the clothes he had been wearing disappeared, but so had the spares he had been carrying in his bag.

"Where are my clotheth?" he asked.

"Slave boys don't wear 'clotheth'," Uzzy told him. "Or clothes, either. So I've taken them back home."

In fact they were safely hidden in a plastic bag in a bush fifty yards away, just in case of emergency, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Sim that.

"But… I can't stay bare all the time! What if someone comes?"

"Oh, I've got something for you to wear if we get visitors," Uzzy assured him, and he produced a length of string and tied it around Sim's waist. "You can keep that on all the time, and if we get visitors we can add this." And he pulled a large white handkerchief from his pocket, folded it up and tucked it into the string, so that it hung down in front of Sim's genitals, hiding them – as long as Sim kept absolutely still and the wind didn't blow, of course.

As usual his emotions were mixed at this point. On the one hand he was really nervous at the thought of spending the whole time he was here naked, or as good as; but on the other, it was somehow really exciting to be like this, virtually bare except for a small scrap of linen which his master could whip away in half a second if he wanted to… and knowing that Uzzy – who, of course, like all masters, would be keeping all his clothes on – would be able to look at him and smack his completely unprotected bum whenever he wanted, was quite enough to overcome the nervousness. And once the balance was tipped his body announced its decision in the usual way, and the handkerchief did nothing at all to conceal it.

"You really can't keep that thing under control at all, can you?" commented Uzzy. "Maybe I'd better go and call Awais and tell him to get round here with a couple of feathers, or something."

"No, don't!" begged Sim, though at least part of him liked the idea.

"Then we'll have to confiscate this for an hour or so instead," said Uzzy, grabbing the handkerchief and pulling it off the string. "Let's see how you feel with it sticking up in the air for a while. Now… let's go and see if we're going to be able to sleep tonight, or if a silly slave boy I know has pitched the tent on top of a lot of bumps and dips. 'Cos if he has, he'll be taking it down and putting it up again somewhere else."

Uzzy crawled into the tent, and Sim, only too glad to get under cover, followed him. Uzzy stripped to his pants and got into the sleeping bag, and Sim got in with him, and they stretched out, testing the ground for bumps and dips. And they were happy to find that there were none – at least, none that seemed likely to keep them awake.

"There aren't any bumps here," Sim reported. "How about your side?"

"No, it feels fine."

"Then I won't have to take the tent down and move it?"

"Well, I could make you do that anyway: it'd be fun to watch you trying to get the tent up on your own with no clothes on… but maybe I won't. Let's just see if we're going to be able to get to sleep like this."

And Uzzy wriggled closer and put his arm round Sim's waist, and Sim put his arm round Uzzy's shoulders and relaxed. He was sure that getting to sleep like this would be no trouble at all. In fact he was on the point of dozing off when he was jerked back into wakefulness by a voice outside the tent.

"Don't worry, it's only Awais," said Uzzy. "He said he's come by this afternoon to see how we were getting on. Hang on, Awais, we'll be out in a moment."

He got out of the sleeping bag and put his clothes on. "I suppose you can have the handkerchief," he said, passing it to Sim. "But mind you're on your best behaviour, or it'll go back in my pocket."

Sim tucked the handkerchief back over the piece of string and followed Uzzy out of the tent. Awais took one look at him and gave a snort of laughter.

"Why is he only wearing that?" he asked.

"Because he doesn't deserve anything more," Uzzy told him.

"He looks really funny… so, are we going to spank him, then?"

"You can't," said Sim. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"What's that got to do with anything?" asked Awais. "We can spank you anyway, just for fun – can't we, Uzzy?"

"Of course. Still, maybe we ought to give him a chance not to be punished… Okay, Sim, say after me: 'The Leith police dismisseth us'."

"Huh?"

"Say 'The Leith police dismisseth us'. Three times. If you can, you won't get punished."

The result was entirely predictable: Sim couldn't get close to a correct rendition.

"Yippee!" cried Awais. "Punishment time!"

"Did you bring it, like I told you?" asked Uzzy, and Awais nodded happily.

"Good. Okay, Sim, lie down on your back and spread your arms and legs out."

Sim did that, and Uzzy took some of the spare tent pegs and the mallet and hammered the pegs in close to Sim's wrists and ankles, and then they tied him to the pegs so that he couldn't move. Then Awais took a thermos flask from his bag. Sim couldn't imagine what that was for: it was another hot day, so they didn't need any hot soup or anything. But of course thermos flasks can keep things cold as well as hot, and when Awais unscrewed the top of this one and poured out the contents, Sim saw that it was full of ice cubes.

"We haven't got any feathers today," said Uzzy, "but I think these will do. Okay, Awais, choose your cube…"

Awais and Uzzy took one ice cube each, and then – pausing only long enough to pull the handkerchief free and throw it to one side – they started sliding them all over Sim's body. Obviously they paid special attention to the areas where Sim was most sensitive, his genitals and nipples in particular, and in no time at all Sim was writhing about, squealing and begging for mercy. And of course they completely ignored him, sliding their ice cubes up his straining erection and rubbing them against the sensitive bit underneath the head, massaging his chest with them, and holding a handful against his balls and then squeezing.

"I think we should do his back as well," commented Uzzy after about ten minutes, so they untied him and reattached him face down, pushing three or four cubes under his genital region 'to keep him cool', as Uzzy put it, before starting to run the cubes up and down his spine and round his buttocks. And then Uzzy had a particularly evil impulse: he took a half-melted ice cube and forced it into Sim's anus. Sim squealed and forced it out again, and Uzzy smacked his bottom hard.

"Keep them in," he ordered. "If any come out, Awais is going to spank you." And he forced three more into Sim's bum.

Up until now Sim hadn't minded the treatment too much, because it was a hot day. Okay, it tickled a bit, and the trickles of water that ran from the partially-melted cubes down his body were uncomfortable, but it was bearable, even having his balls rubbed with ice. But this felt really strange, and soon he was feeling a weird numbness inside, and he didn't like that at all. So after a minute or so he pushed and forced the ice cubes out again, and Awais promptly swatted his bum hard. This sequence was repeated twice more before Uzzy took pity on him and untied him, to Awais's disappointment.

"That's enough punishment, I think," he said. "Let's go and play in the wood."

"I've got an idea," said Sim. "Why don't I go and hide in the wood, and you come and hunt me? I could be a native, and you two are hunters…"

"That could be fun," agreed Uzzy. "I wonder if we could make you a bow? It'd be fairer if you could shoot at us… put the handkerchief back on, and your shoes, and let's go and see if we can find something to make a bow and arrows."

Given a lot more time they could probably have made a bow that would actually fire an arrow more then six feet [1½ m], and arrows that flew in something like a straight line; but they had fun trying, anyway. Eventually they gave up, armed Sim with a spear instead and sent him off to hide, and then they went in, similarly armed with spears, to hunt him down. This was such a good game that Awais wanted to try being the native, too, so he stripped off, tied another piece of string around his waist and used his tee-shirt as a loincloth (they only had the one handkerchief, and Sim was told that he couldn't wear anything else, even if he was now a hunter). And finally Uzzy had a turn, though the others did comment on the unlikelihood of a wild native boy being found wearing a pair of steel-rimmed glasses, which Uzzy nevertheless refused to remove because without them he wouldn't be able to see properly.

Eventually Awais had to go home for tea, and at that point Sim and Uzzy looked at each other, looked at the small gas cooker they had brought with them, and then back at each other.

"Chip shop?" suggested Uzzy, and Sim nodded vigorously.

Uzzy went into the tent, dug into his bag and returned carrying his PE shorts.

"Put those on," he said. "I think the loincloth might not be enough if we're going back to civilisation."

So Sim removed the handkerchief and pulled on the shorts (they were a little small for him, but at least they covered his bum as well as his genitals) and then they got on their bikes and rode to the chip shop to buy their supper. They took it back to the tent to eat, then went back into the woods to climb some trees, and then played chess for a while until it was starting to get dark. And then they went for a night march, following the track, skirting round the farm at the end of it and then swinging off to their left into a quite large area of woodland. Sim was glad to be safely surrounded by trees (he was only wearing his loincloth again) but he wasn't entirely confident that they wouldn't get lost, although Uzzy had brought a compass with him and said he wanted a chance to find out if he could use one. After all, he said, if they did get lost all they had to do was to keep walking in a straight line and they would be sure to find a road eventually…

By the time they did find their way out of the wood it was very dark, but Uzzy was delighted to find that they were more or less where he had intended them to be, and so to celebrate – and to punish Sim for his lack of faith in him – he took the handkerchief back and stuck it in his pocket, obliging Sim to walk the rest of the way back to the tent completely naked except for his shoes. Now that it was dark Sim found this exciting rather than frightening, and so he didn't even mind when Uzzy tied his hands behind his back, tied another piece of string around his balls and used it to tug him along. By the time they got back to the tent he was extremely stiff.

"It doesn't seem to matter how much I punish you, you still can't control it," commented Uzzy, untying his hands so that Sim could get back into the tent. "Maybe I should just cut it right off. At least then it wouldn't keep getting hard. Or… maybe I could punish you a different way."

He closed the tent and took his own clothes off, revealing that his penis was stiff as well.

"Maybe if you suck it nicely I won't have to cut yours off after all," he suggested.

Sim thought that was an excellent idea, and so he lay down on his tummy between Uzzy's legs and set to work. For once there was no time pressure whatsoever, so he was able to draw it out for absolutely ages, not allowing Uzzy to reach the magic moment until he had been reduced to the brink of insanity, wriggling and pleading for release. Finally Sim allowed him to reach orgasm, and for the first time he was sure he could taste something: Uzzy had obviously reached the stage of producing enough to be noticeable.

"Was that okay?" asked Sim, innocently.

"Simmy, that was incredible," said Uzzy, pulling Sim up to lie beside him and then hugging him. "That's the best you've ever done. We are definitely going to have to camp out together again if that's what happens."

"I'd like that," said Sim. "This is fun."

Uzzy nipped out for a pee and then came back and got into the sleeping bag without bothering to put anything on at all, not even his pants, and so Sim got in beside him and cuddled up to him.

"Sim… me making you go bare all day… you didn't mind too much, did you?"

"Of course not. It's fun. And I trust you – and Awais, too."

"Good, because I love seeing you all bare, especially when it sticks up… and I don't know if you've noticed, but you've hardly messed up any of your esses today at all. I'm really proud of you, Sim."

"E…except for the Leith polithe… damn, I still can't say that."

"A lot of people can't, even ones who don't have a lisp. Don't worry about it. And I'm really looking forward to seeing the look on Jones's face next term when he realises he can't make fun of your lisp any more."

"I don't care about Jones. The only people I care about are my friends, and what they think of me."

"This is what I think of you," said Uzzy, and he hugged him hard. And so Sim hugged him back, and then they settled down and fell asleep.

***

"Did you sleep well?" asked Uzzy the following morning.

"I think so. I can't remember waking up, anyway."

"Only, I was wondering if you'd had any naughty dreams, because it's all hard. Again."

"Oh. Well… I can't remember any, but there might have been some, I th… suppose."

"Well, as long as I was in them, it's okay. But if I wasn't I'll have to punish you. Just remember that every time you go to sleep. And maybe I should start the day with a punishment, just in case you weren't dreaming about me…"

"Okay. Do you want me to suck on it again?" asked Sim, enthusiastically.

"No, I think I'd like to do the other thing. Get on your hands and knees."

Uzzy pulled his bag over and extracted a little jar of Vaseline and a packet of tissues, and then he knelt up behind Sim and tried to get into position. But it wasn't as easy like this as it had been in the pavilion, where Sim had a table to bend over: here it was a bit of a struggle to get his erection on the same level as Sim's bottom. Eventually he managed it, though he found himself kneeling in an awkward position that wasn't very comfortable. Still, now that he actually got it lined up he was determined to at least get it inside.

"Okay, I'm there," he reported. "Open up."

Sim pushed out, the way he had learned to do in order to make it easier for Uzzy to gain entrance, and he felt his friend's hard organ sliding into him. Once it was all the way in he squeezed, as he usually did at this point, and was rewarded with a gasp from Uzzy, who wriggled about to get more comfortable, leaned forward so that most of his weight was supported by Sim's back, and then slowly started to rock back and forwards.

By now they had done this together enough times for Sim to know exactly when to squeeze and when to relax, and soon Uzzy was getting close to another orgasm. And because he wanted this amazing feeling to go on for as long as possible, at that point he stopped moving and told Sim to keep still as well.

"What would you do if Awais came into the tent and caught us doing this?" asked Uzzy.

"I don't know. There isn't much I could do, is there?"

"But would you mind?"

"Well… yes, a bit. I mean, I trutht… trust Awais okay, but this is really private, and I don't really want anyone to know about it, not even our real friends."

"How about if he caught you while you had it in your mouth?"

"Well… that wouldn't be quite so bad, but I'd thtill… sorry, still prefer nobody to know. I mean, it's embarrassing…"

"It doesn't matter if slaves get embarrassed, you know that," said Uzzy, starting to move once more, but only very slowly. Sim automatically matched his own movements to his friend's. "If I wanted to do this to you in the pub car park after football, I could. And then everyone would see. But… maybe I won't. I'm not sure everyone would like it. Still, I think it would be funny if Awais saw us. He loves teasing you, and it would give him a whole lot of new stuff to tease you about."

"Yes, but… come on, Uzzy, he's only nine. Don't you think he'd start telling everyone? Then we'd both get into really bad trouble."

"I'm sure he'd keep it to himself. Kam says he's never given away anyone's secrets, and he'd be especially careful if it might get someone into trouble. After all, you know he really likes you, don't you?"

"Does he?"

"Yes, of course. It's obvious. And a couple of times when you haven't been there he's told me so, too. He thinks you're a brilliant sport for letting him do all that spanking and stuff without ever getting mad about it. He said he can't believe you still like him after he's almost made you cry, but he's really glad that you do. Look how much he enjoyed playing with you yesterday when we were doing that hunting game. He thinks it's brilliant that you like playing with him even though he's two and a half years younger than you. He'd never do anything that might get you into trouble."

"I suppose." Sim wasn't a hundred percent sure: he still thought Awais was too young to be trusted with any really serious secrets. But it was true that he'd never betrayed his trust yet – at least, not as far as he knew. Probably it wouldn't matter anyway, because he didn't think Uzzy would really risk telling him about this activity in particular.

'This activity' was going well for both of them: Uzzy was able to keep himself from going over the edge, and Sim was enjoying, as he always did, the feeling of his best friend being actually inside him. His own penis was extremely stiff, even before Uzzy started playing with it, tickling it and flicking it to make it quiver and jerk, and it felt really good.

Eventually Uzzy couldn't restrain himself any longer and started moving steadily again, this time keeping going until he finished, and the last few thrusts did something strange inside Sim, too: it felt as if he was being tickled inside, and it felt really good… The only problem was that the internal tickling seemed to be squeezing his bladder, because once again he was afraid he was going to pee. Fortunately Uzzy reached his orgasm and stopped moving just before Sim disgraced himself by peeing all over the sleeping bags, although, while he was glad not to have lost control of himself, at the same time he felt strangely disappointed: that weird internal sensation had felt really good, and he'd have liked it to have gone on even if it did mean losing control of his bladder, as had seemed imminent. Maybe next time they could do this outside, and then it wouldn't matter if he did pee…

Uzzy picked up the packet of tissues he had brought with him and pulled out a couple to clean himself up, and Sim took the rest of the packet and trotted out to the edge of the trees. By the time he got back Uzzy was already fully dressed.

"So, what are we going to do today?" asked Sim.

"Awais said he'd come round once he's had his breakfast, so maybe we could play in the wood some more. So we'd better have our own breakfast. You tidy the tent and I'll find the cereal."

Awais appeared just as Sim was rinsing the cereal bowls after breakfast, and he'd found something useful: slung over his back was a bow.

"It's Robin's," he explained. "There's another one in his attic, but it needs a new string. But this one works okay. And I've brought some arrows, too. But we mustn't lose the arrows or Robin won't be happy."

The arrows had sucker caps instead of points, which was probably a good idea. Awais wanted to try being the native first, and since he had provided the bow that seemed only fair, so he changed into his native costume (he'd brought his own handkerchief today), took the bow and headed off into the wood.

The game kept them occupied for most of the morning. On Sim's second turn as the native he was captured alive, which gave Uzzy a chance to show Awais how to tie a prisoner to a tree properly, and once he was tied up Uzzy pulled the handkerchief away, leaving him naked and, as usual, stiff.

"He looks so funny like that," commented Awais. "I really wish I had a camera!"

They didn't have any ice cubes today, or any feathers, but they found that fern leaves did a similar job of making Sim wriggle and beg. Eventually they took pity on him and let him go, and then they all went back to the tent and started to pack up: they were expected home for lunch.

Before they took the tent down Awais went inside it to see what it was like, and he was quite impressed.

"There's plenty of room, isn't there?" he commented.

"It's supposed to be able to sleep three adults," Uzzy told him.

"I wonder…" mused Awais. "I bet my mum would say yes… what are you doing next week, Uzzy? 'Cos I bet if I asked my mum she'd let me and Robin camp out with you for a night. I mean, Kam's said he's going to be camping out with Neil a lot this summer, so I'm sure it'll be okay for me to try it for one night, especially with you, 'cos my mum trusts you, I think."

"Sorry," said Uzzy. "We're going away next week. But you can borrow the tent if you like – I don't have to give it back until the end of the holidays. Maybe you can persuade Kam to come with you."

"That wouldn't be as much fun. He'd keep telling me what to do. Oh, well… unless… what about you, Simmy? Could you look after us? 'Cos I don't think Mum will let me and Robin come out here on our own – there'd have to be someone older with us…"

"Well… I'm not doing anything else, so…maybe," said Sim, who wasn't sure that he could cope with two bouncy nine-year-olds: one was quite bad enough. Still, if it was only for one night…

Mrs Younis took a little persuading, though Sim had visited a few times by now and so she knew him a bit, and in the end she agreed. Robin's mum quickly fell into line once she knew that Mrs Younis had agreed, so they settled on the Tuesday. Uzzy dropped the tent off at Awais's house before he left for his holiday with his parents, so when Sim arrived on the Tuesday morning he found the two younger boys waiting for him impatiently.

"You were late," Awais told him as they headed off towards Gainsborough Lane. "That means you'll have to be punished."

"Whoa, hold on a moment," said Sim, braking hard and stopping his bike. "I'm thup… supposed to be in charge, remember? That means you do what I tell you, not the other way around."

"Wrong," said Awais, smirking at him. "Uzzy told me before he left that you have to do what I tell you. And if you don't, me and Robin will bash you up."

"Or I could just turn my bike round and go back home."

"Yes, but you won't do that," said Awais, confidently. "You're not a chicken. And, okay, we won't mess about or do anything stupid, so you won't get into trouble or anything. But I'm in charge, 'cos Uzzy said so. Now come on." And he started pedalling again, and Robin went with him, and after a couple of seconds Sim simply trailed along after them, because he couldn't think of a sensible alternative: he could hardly go back to Mrs Younis and say that he'd changed his mind, not now they'd got this far.

But when they got to the place where he and Uzzy had stayed the two younger boys were happy to follow his instructions on pitching the tent. And when the tent was up and their bags were safely stowed inside Awais just suggested that they should go and explore the wood for a bit without, as Sim had half expected, ordering him to strip and put on his loincloth. He was in any case fairly sure that he would not have obeyed that particular order: he was prepared to trust Awais a very long way, but he didn't know Robin at all.

In the wood they found some good climbable trees, and Robin – having asked for and received a helping hand to reach the lowest branch of one of them – scampered off up the tree like a monkey.

"So…" said Awais, quietly, "are we going to play the hunting game later on?"

"Well… I don't think…"

"Robin won't say anything," Awais interrupted him. "He's my best friend, and he'd never do anything I didn't want – like saying anything that might get you in trouble, for instance. You can trust him, same as you know you can trust me."

"But that's the problem: I know I can trust you because we've known each other a little while now. But I don't know Robin at all. And he'd only have to let something slip out accidentally – like if his mum asks what we did while we were here – and I could get in bad trouble."

"His mum never asks him anything like that. And even if he did say something, I'd say we ganged up on you and made you do… whatever it is. Robin and I might get into trouble, but you wouldn't. Anyway, we're only talking about playing hunters, not doing anything really bad. Only… I really like that game, Simmy, and I want to show Robin how much fun it is."

"Well… okay, then, I suppose so. After lunch."

"Great!"

They climbed trees and found thick bushes to explore and undergrowth to wriggle through, and that kept them busy until they felt hungry enough to eat the sandwiches that their mothers had made for them. And when they had eaten Awais turned to Robin and said, "We've invented this really good game to play in the woods – it's called 'hunters and natives'. We take it in turn to be a native boy hiding in the woods, while the other two are hunters trying to capture him. And because two onto one isn't fair, the native is allowed to use a bow to try to shoot the hunters before they get close enough to grab him. 'Cept… we forgot to bring the bow, so could you ride home quickly and get it?"

"Okay," agreed Robin, and went to unlock his bike. Awais walked over to the bike with him, presumably explaining the rules or reminding him not to forget the arrows: Sim couldn't hear what they were saying but he supposed that it didn't matter too much. The only thing that he wanted to be sure of was that Robin wasn't going to go home afterwards and tell his parents that they'd been running about the woods in loincloths – because Sim was sure that Awais would insist on proper costumes being worn.

Ten minutes later Robin returned with the bow slung on his back and carrying a bag with the arrows sticking out of the top of it.

"I'll go first," volunteered Awais. "After all, I'm sort of native-coloured…"

He went into the tent and emerged wearing just a pair of shorts and his plimsolls. Sim had been expecting the loincloth, and thought that as long as he was allowed to wear shorts when it was his turn he'd be perfectly happy. And when it was his turn Awais raised no objection at all to his wearing his shorts. However, when Robin had gone to hide for the second time Awais asked Sim how he would feel about being punished if he deserved it.

"What would make me deserve it?" asked Sim.

"Well… if we managed to capture you alive, for example."

Sim thought that unlikely: usually the native won this game because he could usually kill one of the hunters with his bow and then attack the other one with either a spear or, if he had time to reload, another arrow. Only if his first shot missed was there any risk of him finding himself in a two against one hand-to-hand fight, and he hadn't missed with his first shot yet. Still…

"Are you sure Robin would keep his mouth shut?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Once he finds out how much fun it is he'll want to do it again, so he'll definitely keep quiet."

"Well… okay. But only if you agree that we can punish you if we capture you alive."

"That's fair. I agree."

Inevitably Sim messed up on his next turn as the native: they saw him before he fired and so were able to get under cover, and then they closed on him from two directions, hiding behind trees to avoid being shot, and eventually he was forced to take a snap shot that missed. And before he could even grab his spear they had jumped on him and pinned him down.

"We've got a prisoner!" cried Awais, happily. "Let's take him back to our camp!"

So Sim was marched back to the camp and tied to a tree in the way that Uzzy had shown them, hands tied together behind the trunk and another rope around the waist to keep him still. And once he was properly secured Robin went to the tent and returned carrying his bag, which turned out to contain a thermos flask.

"He got it at the same time as the arrows," Awais explained. "I thought it might be useful."

And he and Robin took an ice cube each and started to rub them against Sim's chest. Robin seemed a little uncertain to start with, but when Sim didn't say anything he joined in happily.

"Of course, we could try putting the ice cubes somewhere else," said Awais, and he undid Sim's belt and opened his shorts, but instead of pulling them down, as Sim had expected, he instead pulled the elastic of his briefs forward and dumped half a dozen ice cubes inside them. Sim squealed and wriggled, and Robin's eyes nearly popped out.

"You can't do that, Awais!" he protested. "As soon as we untie him he'll murder you!"

"Then we won't untie him," said Awais, grinning. "Now, I expect he'd like dry shorts to put on later, so we'll take these off now," and he pulled Sim's shorts right down and told him to step out of them. Sim could see the sense in keeping them dry, so he did, and Awais also removed his shoes, leaving him naked except for his white briefs. And then Awais and Robin went back to the tent to give the ice a chance to melt.

When they returned to the tree Sim looked really uncomfortable. The front of his briefs was wet and there were trickles of water running down his legs, but the briefs fitted too well for any of the ice cubes to have escaped.

"Okay," said Awais, "now you can either promise not to get us back for this, in which case we'll get the rest of those cubes out, or not, in which case we'll add some new ones and leave you for a lot longer.. So, what do you want to do?"

"I promise not to get you back," said Sim, immediately.

"Good," said Awais, and he took hold of Sim's briefs and pulled them down, spilling what was left of the ice cubes on the way. Robin gasped as Sim's genitals were revealed, but he didn't stop staring.

Of course, the ice had made everything a lot smaller than usual: his balls had drawn up tight beneath his penis, which was itself as small as it ever got. Robin burst out laughing as Awais lifted the cold little penis away from the equally chilly-looking scrotum.

"I think we should warm him up a little," said Awais. "We don't want his willy to catch cold, do we?" And he took hold of it and squeezed gently, using his other hand to cup Sim's balls.

Before too long he felt it start to twitch, and at that he redoubled his efforts until Sim got a proper erection.

"Wow, that's really big!" commented Robin. "And why is it all curvy like that?"

"'Cos he's Simmy, he's silly and he's got a curvy willy," chanted Awais, and Robin spluttered with laughter again.

Awais amused himself by pulling the erection forward and then releasing it so that it sprang back to its previous position, and then he slapped it lightly side to side, with the same result.

"Have a feel," he invited his friend. "It's really hard."

"I'd better not," said Robin. "He might bash me up if I do."

"No, he won't: he's promised not to. Haven't you, Simmy?"

Sim nodded, and so Robin shrugged his shoulders and flicked it the way Awais was doing. Gradually he got bolder, until he was squeezing it quite hard and pulling it so far forward that it really hurt and Sim had to beg him to stop.

They went on amusing themselves for about five minutes, until Sim was starting to get that strange feeling again. At least if he peed outdoors it wouldn't matter so much, but he really didn't want these two seeing him pee, because he knew they'd tease him to death. So he begged them to stop, but it didn't do any good.

But before the worst happened Awais said, "Now I'm going to teach you how to spank a big boy, Robin: if you do it like I'm going to show you, he won't be able to make you stop."

He untied Sim and grabbed his genitals in his left hand, and then pulled him over to a fallen tree and sat on the trunk.

"If you hold him like this, or just by the willy, even – like this," (and he changed his grip) "he can't struggle, 'cos if he does you just twist and pull like this," (and he demonstrated, and Sim yelped and froze) "and it hurts so much he keeps still. Don't you, Simmy?"

He pulled Sim across his lap.

"Now, I'll spank this side and you spank that side," he said, and started with a firm slap to Sim's left buttock. Robin very quickly got the idea and slapped the right buttock, but not very hard.

"No, you have to do it properly, otherwise he won't learn his lesson," said Awais. "Like this." And he gave Sim a much harder spank, and Sim yelped, but his attempt to interpose his hand stopped when Awais wrenched at his penis.

"Like this, you mean?" asked Robin, and delivered a much harder blow. Sim yelped again.

"That's the idea. Now let's give him a really good spanking."

Awais had spanked Sim a couple of times before, but he hadn't been able to overdo it, either because his parents were in the house and might have heard, or because either Kam or Uzzy was there to make sure he didn't go too far. But this time there was nothing to hold him back, and he was free to enjoy himself.

Robin had by now overcome his initial nervousness and loved the idea of being allowed to smack a big boy's bum, and so he joined in happily. And Sim… as usual, Sim was confused. On the one hand, being stripped and spanked by a couple of nine-year-olds was deeply humiliating, and it was starting to hurt a bit, too. But on the other…for reasons he couldn't begin to understand, he found this whole situation incredibly exciting – and he was starting to get that strange feeling back, as if he was being tickled inside. He was aware of Awais's hot little hand squeezing and moving against his penis as every blow on his buttocks made him jerk a little; he was aware of a growing heat and discomfort on his buttocks; and he was even more aware of the fun the two younger boys were having, giggling and trying to outdo each other in delivering the hardest blows. And the weird feeling inside him grew and went on growing…

"I think I'm going to pee," he said.

"No, you're not, you're just saying that to get out of being spanked," declared Awais, delivering another stinging blow.

"I am!"

"You'd better not, 'cos if you do and it goes on me we'll tie you to the tree for the whole night."

The spanking went on, and Sim went on wriggling helplessly, and the feeling grew and grew… and it felt incredible, overwhelming the soreness of his bum completely as it swelled further and further and he tried more and more desperately to hold it back…

The two boys delivered their next blows in unison, and Awais squeezed and twisted his erection, and Sim couldn't hold it back any longer: he squealed and bucked and wriggled, and Awais squeezed him even harder… it felt to Sim as if his whole body was trying to explode in slow motion, and it felt absolutely incredible, and if anything the fact that the boys kept spanking him all the time it was happening actually made it feel even more amazing.

Finally the feeling subsided, and he turned his head and asked Awais to let him go, and his tone of voice was so different to how it had been before that Awais didn't hesitate: he released Sim's penis and helped him to stand up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking worried.

"Yes… except… something really strange just happened to me…"

"Did we hit you too hard? I'm sorry, Simmy…"

"No, it was okay. I mean, it was a really good feeling, and I liked it – I just don't understand what made it happen, or what it was, or anything… but it was really amazing… anyway, I think I need a pee. What did you do with my shorts?"

"I don't know," said Awais, grinning. "I expect they'll turn up. Go and have your pee and we'll see if we can find them."

Sim couldn't go into the wood in bare feet, so he just went to the edge of trees and began to pee, aware that the younger boys were looking at his back and giggling. He'd felt slightly odd after it (whatever it was) had happened to him, but now he was getting back to normal, and of course 'normal' for Sim meant liking the idea of having no clothes on and being teased by Awais and Robin. So when he had finished he went back to where they were waiting and asked for his shorts, at least half-hoping that they wouldn't give them back. But Awais was still a bit worried about Sim's strange reaction to being spanked, so he pointed to where he had left Sim's clothes, the briefs spread out to dry in the sun and the shorts and shoes beside them. And so, reluctantly, Sim got dressed again.

They played some rather more normal games for the rest of the afternoon, variants on 'he' and hide and seek, and they had an archery contest, and then they went to the chip shop for supper.

Sim didn't have the compass, so he didn't want to risk going into the wood. Instead once it began to get dark he took them along to the point where the big wood began and then back again, but on the way back they pretended they were commandoes, ducking from tree to tree and crawling through the long grass so as not to be seen by enemy sentries. And by the time they got back to the tent they were ready for bed. Sim heated up some water for them all to wash in, made sure the younger boys cleaned their teeth, checked that everything was tidy outside the tent and followed them inside, closing it up.

"Are you sure you're not mad at us?" asked Robin, who still seemed worried about a possible revenge attack.

"I'm sure. I agreed with Awais that if you managed to capture me you could do whatever you liked, so there's no reason for me to be angry."

"He never gets angry," said Awais. "That's why he's such brilliant fun to play with: it doesn't matter how many times I spank him or hurt his willy, he still goes on being friends with me. Sometimes I think he must be mad, but I don't care if we stay friends."

"I'm th… sure we'll stay friends," Sim assured him.

This time they each had their own sleeping bag: Sim thought he might sleep better if Awais wasn't tickling him and so on all night long. So they turned their torches out and settled back to sleep. But it took Sim a long time to drop off. He wondered about what Awais had said. Maybe he really was mad? After all, he was sure that being stripped and teased and spanked wasn't supposed to make you get really exciting and overwhelmingly brilliant feelings. He knew he'd want to be made to feel like that again, but he was sure that it wasn't normal. He decided that he would have to talk to Uzzy about it as soon as he came back from his family holiday: maybe Uzzy would be able to explain what was happening to him…

Sim has been waiting a very long time to experience that particular sensation, and of course it's typical of him that the circumstances of his first orgasm were, shall we say, unorthodox.

The next chapter sees Jeremy returning from the States, which means that some more difficult conversations are just over the horizon. Is that triangle going to get resolved to everyone's satisfaction, or not? Time alone can tell…

Chapter Twenty

In this chapter Jeremy gets back home and immediately finds himself worrying about all the things he was trying not to worry about while he was in America. And Uzzy tries to get to the bottom of just why his best friend is… well, weird. And there's another development, too, though this one could have really unpleasant consequences…

Jeremy flew back to the UK on August 22^nd, and almost the first thing he asked his mother when he got back inside his house was "Has Bilal called?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," said Adolf, who was right behind him. "Can't you get that foreign kid out of your head for two minutes? There are plenty of decent white boys at your school. Why can't you be friends with them, instead of that Paki and the long-haired hippie he goes about with?"

"No, dear, he hasn't," said his mother. "But then surely all your friends know you weren't here, so they wouldn't have bothered trying to call for you, would they?"

"That's true, I suppose… I could go and call for him…"

"No, you couldn't," said Adolf. "You need something to eat, and then you need to rest for a bit. You've been flying all night, so you're in no state to run about in the streets. You'll be half asleep, and you might get hit by a car, or something. So go and get unpacked, and we'll call you when your meal's ready."

Jeremy didn't feel like arguing – in fact, he was really so nervous about seeing Bilal again that he wasn't sure he'd have had the courage to go and call for him even if Adolf had said he could. So he took his case upstairs and unpacked it and then lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. And the longer he lay there, the more the doubts grew, until by the time he was called downstairs to eat he had already talked himself out of trying to get in touch with Bilal at all: he was convinced Bilal would tell him to get lost. Or probably something much less polite.

So after lunch – though to him it felt more like a late supper – he just went back upstairs to his room and tried to read a book, though once again his mind kept wandering away from the page. He'd been able to put the problem to the back of his mind while Bilal had been five thousand miles away, but now that he was only a few houses away it had taken over once again, ruthlessly pushing everything else in his mind to one side. He had absolutely no idea of what he would say to Bilal when he saw him, but he knew that he was going to have to face him sooner or later.

He was so bound up in his thoughts that he didn't even hear the doorbell ring, so when there was a knock at his bedroom door he thought it was his mother (Adolf wouldn't have bothered to knock), so he just said "Come in," automatically. But when the door opened it was Tony who came into the room.

"Are you okay?" asked Tony.

Jeremy really wasn't prepared for this conversation, because he'd spent all his time thinking about Bilal instead, so he just nodded and said, "Yes, I suppose so. You?"

"Well… more or less."

There was silence for thirty seconds.

"How's Bilal?" asked Jeremy.

"Oh, thanks, Jeremy. Nothing's changed, has it? I'm standing here, but he's the one you want to talk about. How's that supposed to make me feel?"

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Tony… It's just… Well, I've got to talk to him, but I don't know if he'll want to see me, and even if he does I don't know what to say… Does he still hate me, do you think?"

"He never hated you. It's just been really hard for him to find out that his two closest friends are both raving perverts, and I'm pretty sure he still hasn't decided what to do about it."

Jeremy swallowed. "I'm going to have to go and see him," he said. "I'll have to say sorry for upsetting him – and I'll have to try to explain that I'll never do anything to make him feel bad… though I don't know how. Will you come with me, please? It might be easier if you're there."

"You can't go and see him – at least, not at the moment. He's gone away with his parents. Apparently they got a chance of a week in the south of France, or something, and they won't be back until Saturday night."

"Oh, God, no! I don't think I can stand another week feeling like this."

"Well, tough, because you're going to have to. Look, Jeremy, the best thing you can do is get outdoors and do something, because if you sit in here for a week you'll go mad. Kam and Neil are both around, and I think Sim and Uzzy both get home this week, and Miguel should have got home yesterday, I think… so even if you don't want to play with me, there are other people you can get out to do stuff with…"

Jeremy looked up and saw that Tony was trying to keep his emotions under control and not entirely succeeding. And he recognised that he had been totally selfish since Tony had arrived: he'd done nothing but talk about Bilal and the way he felt about him, completely ignoring the fact that Tony felt the same way about him. And he knew that if Tony felt the same way that he did, he must be really unhappy.

He's your friend, he told himself. He's not Bilal, but he deserves better than he's been getting so far.

He stood up and walked over to where Tony was standing just inside the door, and then he opened his arms and hugged him.

"Of course I'll want to play with you," he said. "You're my friend, Tony. And… I'm sorry I've been such a bastard to you, too. And I promise not to mention Bilal at all until next weekend if you don't want me to."

Tony gave him a very brief return hug but then stepped away.

"You don't have to pretend," he said. "I know it's Bilal you want to be with, not me. And if I thought there was any chance of him changing his mind I'd do everything I could to help. But he isn't going to change his mind, Jeremy: he likes girls, and that's not going to change. Kam and I spoke to him about it just after you left, and he was very clear: he thinks what gay boys do is disgusting, and he certainly isn't going to do any of it himself."

"I think… At least… I suppose that might be true…"

"Oh, God, Jeremy – you're still hoping for a miracle, aren't you? It's not going to happen, okay? And the sooner you can accept that, the easier things will be. For all of us."

"I know. I know, but… but I need to hear it from him, okay?"

"And what are you going to do then?"

"I don't know. I'll deal with it if it happens… okay, when it happens, all right? But let's wait until then, okay?"

"Okay. Except… no, it doesn't matter. Okay, let's wait until Bilal gets back. But until then… do you want me to stay away?"

"God, no! I'll never want that, Tony: you're a really good friend."

Tony managed to smile at last. "Okay, then… what do you want to do this afternoon? We could play tennis, if you like. And maybe tomorrow we can call Kam and arrange a kick-about…"

"That sounds good. I probably won't be much good at tennis today, because I'm knackered."

"You're never any good at tennis. The only difference is that today you've got a half-decent excuse."

"We'll see. Maybe I'll surprise you…"

***

The following afternoon Jeremy was feeling a little less tired, so when Tony called to say that Kam would be expecting them at the car park at two o'clock he felt entirely in the mood for a kick-about. Kam, Neil and Awais were there, and so was Uzzy, though Sim had not yet returned from his family holiday and nobody was sure where Miguel was. But they had enough for a round of three-a-side matches, and everyone steered well clear of any mention of sex, which suited Jeremy just fine. Tony had the sense not to suggest playing the headers and volleys game, and even Awais kept his mouth shut: maybe Kam had asked him to keep quiet today.

They played for a couple of hours, and by the time they finished Jeremy was feeling almost back to normal – not quite, but almost. They all agreed to get together on the Sunday afternoon, by which time everyone should be back home, for a full football session: Jeremy said he would call Miguel to make sure he knew about it, and Uzzy said he'd be seeing Sim before that, anyway, so the message could be passed to him as well.

They walked down the path to the road, where Tony and Jeremy turned left and the others turned right: Uzzy had left his bike at Kam's house as usual, and Neil was going to be staying for tea. And a few seconds after they emerged from the path a cyclist went by, turning to look at them as he rode off.

"Oh, shit," said Neil.

"What?" asked Uzzy.

"That kid on the bike. His name's Edwards, and he goes to my school. He and his skinhead mates gave me some grief a couple of weeks before the end of term about hanging round with Kam."

"It's the holidays, Neil," said Kam. "He's not going to do anything about it now, and he'll have forgotten by the time we get back to school. If he recognised you at all, that is."

"I bet he did. And I bet he doesn't forget, either. Shit, Kam, what am I going to do?"

"Nothing. Try to stay out in the yard for the first couple of days: they won't do anything in front of the whole school. And if they do start anything, yell loudly: they'll brick it if they think a teacher might catch them. But I really think there's nothing to worry about. That lot are so thick they'd have forgotten their own names by the start of term if they weren't written on their books. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, really."

***

He would have been a lot less sure if he could have followed Edwards. The skinhead rode down to the multi-storey car park behind the Town Hall, where his mates generally hung out if they had nothing else to do, and there he found Robert Wells and Derek Atkinson, who were the two boys who had spoken to Neil previously, along with three or four others.

"Guess what I just saw, Robbie?" he began.

"If you looked in a mirror, it was a spotty turd with big ears," said Atkinson.

"Fuck off, Derek. No, it was that arsehole Carter – you know, the one we warned about hanging about with the Paki kid in 3B? Well, today he was hanging about with three Paki kids – and a couple of other white kids, too. Shows what he thinks of us, doesn't it?"

"It does, a bit," agreed Wells. "I mean, it's not like we didn't warn him happens to Paki-lovers. I think we'll definitely have to have a word. Pity we don't know where to find them outside school."

"Where I saw them there's a big car park at the back of a pub," Edwards reported. "Younis had a ball with him, so I reckon it's where they go to play football."

"Nice one, Marky-boy. Now all we need to know is when they play. Don't suppose we'll be able to find out before we get back to school, but I'll bet you any money they play at weekends during term time – so if we don't find out in the meantime we can always go and sort them out the first Saturday of term. It's about time someone gave those Paki kids a good kicking, and any white kids who hang about with them…"

Robert Wells was simply following in the family tradition: his father was also a racist, and had passed on his views to his son. And when Robert went home and told him what Edwards had seen, Wells Senior was entirely approving of his son's intention to go and explain the facts of life to the Asian kids and any white who was stupid enough to hang about with them.

"It's definitely time someone sent them a message," said Wells Senior. "This is a decent town, and we don't want Pakis polluting it. Hand round a few black eyes and maybe their parents will decide they'd be happier living somewhere else – preferably in Pakistan."

It will come as no surprise to discover that someone with views like that was also a member of the National Front, and after that evening's NF meeting had finished and adjourned to the local pub Mr Wells got talking to Adolf, who he knew quite well.

"My boy's found out something useful," he reported. "He's found out where the local Paki kids get together to play football, and there are some white kids who play with them. Rob reckons it'd be a good idea to go and put the frighteners on them a bit, maybe hand out a few bruises. He reckons if we rough the kids up a bit, maybe the parents will get the message and clear out of town. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me. I mean, he couldn't go too far: breaking bones and putting the kids in hospital would be a bad idea, because it could easily backfire on us: you know what the local press is like…"

"Load of fucking Commies," opined Mr Wells.

"Exactly. But a few good bruises and a black eye or two will do nicely. We know there are a few local coppers who are sympathetic to us, and they won't try too hard to find out who did it, especially if you're at home and can say that Rob was with you at the time… Personally I'd be only too glad to see them pack their bags and bugger off somewhere else, because that kid of mine just won't be told how stupid it is to make friends with them. The minute he got back from his holiday he was asking where his Paki mate is, and it's getting right up my nose. I even tried explaining it to him, but he thinks he knows better than me…"

"All kids are like that," said Mr Wells. "Rob's convinced he knows far more than I do."

"Right. Still… I wonder if these are the kids Jeremy hangs about with? I reckon it must be – we know there aren't that many Pakis in town… If it is, I might be able to find out when they're going to be there next. Where is it they play?"

"The car park behind the Hyde."

"That's probably it – it's not too far from where I live. Okay, I'll try to find out when they're going to be there next."

"Right. But I suggest you keep your kid at home that day. There's no point in him getting a kicking if sorting out his little brown friends shows him what he needs to know."

"Well, it might not do him any harm to watch, but he's stupid enough to get involved, and then he might get hurt. And the missus wouldn't stand for that – and I'm not even sure that I would. Most of the time he's a right pain in the arse, but just occasionally I see something in him… if he only had the right sort of friends I reckon he'd turn out fine. He invited a Spanish kid round a month or so back, and he seemed okay – really polite, neat haircut – you could tell he'd been brought up by someone with a proper view of things. It's a damned shame we never had a Franco here… anyway, if his friends were all like him, instead of being a bunch of long-haired nancy-boys and Pakis, I'm sure Jeremy would turn out to be a decent kid. So, if your boy and his mates can scare the Pakis out of town I'll be behind you all the way."

***

The Pakis in question were of course blissfully unaware of this conversation, and were just getting on with enjoying the last couple of weeks of the holidays. Uzzy, for example, called Sim on the Tuesday evening – by which time Sim was back from his family holiday – and asked if he wanted to come over the following day and then stay overnight. And Sim, who was keen to talk to his friend about what had happened with Awais and Robin, accepted straight away.

"I've still got the tent," Uzzy said when he arrived. "But I'd quite like to stay at home this time: there's something on TV I want to watch this evening. So I thought we could put the tent up in the garden, and then we could have a comfortable evening in, with my mum cooking supper for us, but still be able to sleep in the tent, which would give us a little privacy…"

Sim thought that sounded fine, and added that he wanted to talk to Uzzy in private, so Uzzy suggested that they should get on their bikes and go for a short ride out to the place where they had camped previously: he was pretty sure, he said, that nobody would interrupt them there.

So they put the tent up first and put their sleeping bags into it, and then they rode round to the place where they had camped out before, and there they sat on the fallen tree trunk where Sim had been spanked by Awais and Robin, and he explained what had happened to him.

"It was an amazing feeling," he concluded. "It felt warm and ecth… exciting, and I really liked it. But… I don't understand why being spanked made me feel like that."

"We could try again now, if you like," said Uzzy, grinning at him. "Take your clothes off and I'll spank you for as long as it takes."

"No, thank you. At least… not now, anyway. But I'm worried, Uzzy: do you think there's something wrong with me?"

"What, apart from being a naughty, disobedient slave boy who deserves to be spanked every day… okay, Simmy, I know you're being serious at the moment. Well… you're certainly a bit strange: I mean, I've done loads of bad things to you, and you seem to enjoy it – at least, I hope you enjoy it, because if I didn't think you did I wouldn't do it. So… do you? I mean, when I make you suck on mine, or when I put it up your bum – do you enjoy it the way I think you do?"

"Well, yes… and I thu… sssuppose that's a bit weird, too."

Uzzy shrugged. "I like it, and you like it, so who cares if it's weird? Especially if it makes you feel nice the way it does me."

"Yes, but… I even sort of liked it when you took my clothes and made me run about bare in front of those kids from London. And that can't be normal… and I'm sure nobody normal would feel like I did when Awais spanked me. I don't want to be weird, Uzzy: I just want to be a normal boy like you…"

Uzzy put his arm around Sim's shoulders and squeezed. "I don't think I'm normal, either," he said. "Normal boys don't do sex stuff with other boys. And I like doing that stuff, and I don't want to stop just because some people think we shouldn't do it. Except… you're my best friend, Simmy, and I don't want you to be unhappy. So if you don't want to do sex stuff any more, we can stop."

"No! I don't want to stop, Uzzy: I know you really like it, and I do, too… it's just… well, if I like it when I get hurt, there must be something wrong with me. Don't you think so?"

"Have you had the same feeling before, or was it just when Awais spanked you?"

"Well, that's the only time it sort of escaped. But I've got close a few times before: when you and Awais were playing with my thingy, and last time you put yours up my bum, too…"

"Then maybe there's nothing wrong with you at all. Having your thingy played with always feels nice, and I know how much you like it when I'm inside you, and I'm pretty sure that proper sex like that is supposed to feel good for both people. And I bet when Awais spanked you he was holding you like I taught him, wasn't he?"

Sim nodded.

"Well, there you are, then: he was making your thingy feel good at the same time."

"Yes, but… why do I like it when I have no clotheth on and people can see me? Nobody's touching me then."

Uzzy shook his head. "I don't really know. Except – well, yours is really nice, and it's big for our age, too. Maybe you're just proud of it and like people being able to see how big it is?"

"I don't think that's it. I mean, I sort of like people teasing me and laughing at it and pointing and even calling me names and stuff… Some of those London kids were bigger than me, and it was the way they were staring at me and laughing that felt good. And earlier, when Kyle threatened to pee in my face, I almost wanted him to, to find out how it would feel. And if it had been you instead of him I would definitely have wanted you to…"

"What, you want me to pee on you? Wow, Simmy, that is a bit strange…"

"I don't know that I actually want you to – but I wouldn't mind if you did… see, Uzzy, I told you I was weird."

Uzzy hugged him again. "I don't care," he said. "You're my best friend, and I really like you the way you are. Nobody has ever given me the sort of brilliant feelings you do, and I just want you to feel as good as I do. And I don't care what makes you feel nice: I'll do anything you like – I can spank you, pee on you, strip you bare in front of everyone at school…"

"No! Not at school… I don't know why, but that would be horrible. Maybe it's because of what Graham did to me, or because of what we did to him, but I don't want to do that at school. With kids who don't go to our school it's completely different, and I don't mind you undressing me then – like you did with the London kids. And I reckon I can trutht Robin now, too, so him and Awais can tease me all they want… It's just… I don't understand why I like that happening."

"Nor do I. But does it matter? If you like it, and they like doing it, what's wrong with it? And if having them spanking you feels good, I reckon you should just enjoy it, and not worry about it. Everyone's different, Sim. It doesn't mean you're bad, or sick, or anything like that. It's like we like different flavour ice cream, that's all. Still, I'd like to try an experiment or two with you… come on, we're going home."

He pushed his bike back onto Gainsborough Lane and headed for home with Sim following him. And when they got there they parked the bikes outside the kitchen and Uzzy led Sim into the tent, which they had pitched at the far end of the garden.

"Get undressed," ordered Uzzy, unrolling Sim's sleeping bag and zipping it together with his own.

Obediently Sim stripped off and then watched as Uzzy took his clothes off too and got into the sleeping bag.

"Come on in," Uzzy told him, and once Sim was inside Uzzy cuddled up against him. He pushed Sim onto his side and snuggled up behind him, and then reached round and started to fondle Sim's genitals. And pretty soon Sim's body responded.

"Now," said Uzzy, "you can do anything you want. You can touch me as much as you want; you can hug me, you can kiss me if you want to try that. And I'll do anything to you that you tell me to, too. I want to see if we can make you feel nice without hurting you, or having people laughing at you, or having me put mine inside you…"

"I like you doing that. It makes me feel really nice."

"Yes, I know, but I want to try to see if we can make you feel nice in other ways, too. So for the rest of the time we're in here you're in charge. We'll do anything you want."

Sim was silent for a moment. "But… you're always in charge," he said, eventually. "That's how we're supposed to be. I'm here to obey you and to make you feel nice, because that's what you deserve."

"What do you mean, it's what I deserve? Why should I deserve to be made to feel nice, while you don't?"

"Because… well, it's obvious, isn't it? Because you're clever and good looking and kind…"

"So are you."

"No, I'm not! I'm ugly and I've got a stupid lisp and I don't deserve a friend like you…"

"You're not ugly and you haven't got a lisp any more – or haven't you noticed? And you deserve to be happy, too."

It was obvious from Sim's expression that he didn't believe this.

"Oh, God, you can be really dim sometimes," said Uzzy. "Look, why do you think I want to spend all my time with you? And why do you think I offered to stop doing sex with you if you didn't like it? It's because I want you to be happy, dimbo! I want you to stop thinking you're ugly and stupid and worthless and to start seeing yourself the way I see you – as the best friend in the world."

"D… do you really think that?" asked Sim, who seemed on the verge of tears.

"Of course I do. I've never had a friend like you before, Simmy. I love you."

And that was too much for Sim, who now did start to cry, and Uzzy held him and soothed him and waited for the crying to end.

"I'm s… sorry," said Sim, when he had finally got himself back under control.

"That's okay. But… do you believe me?"

Sim hesitated, but then gave a shaky nod. "I don't understand it, but I do believe you," he said.

"Good. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I was about to see if I can make you get the special feeling without having to put mine up your bum… let's try this."

Although by now they were quite experienced at both oral and anal intercourse, neither of them actually knew how to masturbate. But Uzzy squeezed and stroked and played with Sim's erection and after a while Sim said, "I think it might be starting to happen…"

So Uzzy kept doing the things he was doing, and Sim started to wriggle about as the feeling grew inside him, and it got closer and closer and it grew and grew… until finally it was too much for him to control and it burst inside him, making him cry out and thrash about in Uzzy's arms.

"Okay?" asked Uzzy, when he calmed down.

"That was so good, Uzzy," said Sim, smiling at him. "It felt magic!"

"Was it better than when Awais spanked you?"

"Well… it was different. I don't know if it was better or not. But I really, really liked it."

"Then we'll have to carry on with our experiment," said Uzzy. "In an hour or so we'll go and see if Awais and Robin are free, and if they are we'll go back to where we camped and I'll talk them into spanking you – not that I'll have to do much talking, I suppose… and then we'll see if it happens again, and if it's better or worse than what just happened. If you're okay with that, of course..?"

"Okay. I like the way Awais giggles when he's teasing me, somehow."

"Good. But first we need to give you the chance to recover for a bit, so… what would you like to do? We could go and play chess for a while if you like…"

"Okay. But… can we just stay here like this for a bit first? Only I like being bare with you like this."

"Me, too." And Uzzy hugged him again.

They lay quietly together for half an hour or so, holding each other close, and then got up, put their clothes on and went up to Uzzy's room to play chess for a while. And then Uzzy phoned Awais up, discovered that he and Robin weren't doing anything in particular, and told him that they'd be round to collect them shortly.

The four of them rode back to their camp site, and then Uzzy grabbed Sim and addressed the other two.

"Sim's been misbehaving," he told them. "He's been rude and stroppy all day, and he needs punishing, and as you two seem to have done a good job on him last time I thought you might like to do it again. So here he is: you can do whatever you want to him. Take his clothes off, chase him, beat him, do whatever you think he deserves. And finish off by giving him a really good spanking, like he says you did last time, because this time I want to watch."

He pushed Sim towards them and they grabbed him, forced him down to the ground and, despite Sim's efforts at resistance, pulled all his clothes off. Then Robin sat on him while Awais went and pulled a couple of stems of bracken up and stripped off the leaves, leaving a nice pair of makeshift whips.

"Start running," Awais advised Sim. "Because if we catch up with you before you reach the end of the field, your bum's going to be sore."

Sim stood up and was on the point of setting off, but Uzzy called for him to wait. He dug into his bag and threw a ball of string and a pair of scissors to Awais.

"Tie his hands behind his back first," he said. "That way if he meets anyone he won't be able to hide his rude bits."

So Awais did that, and Sim took off with the two younger boys in hot pursuit. It's hard to run at full speed with your hands tied behind your back, and so they were able to keep up with him, keeping him moving with little flicks of their whips on his bum, not really enough to hurt but enough to keep him trying to escape. And once again Sim was aware of what he looked like, and he loved it, so much so that by the time he'd been chased to the end of the field and back to where Uzzy was waiting he had a very stiff penis.

Next they tied him to a tree and played with his erection for a bit. And finally they took him back to the fallen tree and got him into position for a spanking, with Awais gripping his penis as before.

"Just keep going until your hands are too sore to carry on," Uzzy advised them when Awais asked how many they should dish out, and at that the two younger boys grinned at each other and set to work.

And this time Sim thought it felt even better, because not only was he being punished by two much younger boys, but this time his best friend was there to witness his humiliation and to hear his little yelps of pain… and soon that feeling was back, slowly swelling up inside him…

"Bet I can make him yell louder than you," said Robin, delivering an extra hard slap.

"Bet you can't," replied Awais, trying to outdo his friend, and twisting Sim's penis for extra effect. And Sim wriggled and yelped and squealed, and inside him the warmth grew and grew, expanding, filling his lower body… and he tried really hard to contain it, but once again he couldn't, and his orgasm drowned out everything else – though once again the continuing spanks delivered to his bum seemed to prolong and amplify the orgasm considerably.

Finally – after it had been going on for what seemed to Sim to be at least a year – the feeling subsided, and he slowly sank back into himself. The spanking was still going on, but now he was ready for it to stop, so he looked at Uzzy and said, "Okay, Uzzy, it's happened," and Uzzy told Awais and Robin to stop. Which they did, reluctantly.

"My hand isn't really hurting yet," complained Robin. "Can't we carry on?"

"No, I think he's learned his lesson. For now, anyway. But next time he's bad you can carry on where you left off, because you two do a really good job when you work together like that."

"We're the Punishment Squad," said Awais grinning. "Naughty Simmies are our speciality: if he misbehaves, we'll make his bum go red."

And it certainly was red: Sim had his hands over it, feeling the heat.

"You're not mad at us, are you?" asked Robin, who still found it hard to believe that he could do this to a big boy and not make him angry.

"Of course he isn't," scoffed Awais. "He knows that we're allowed to punish him if he's bad – you heard Uzzy say so. And he told us the same thing that night in the tent, remember?"

"Well, yes, but… it just seems a bit strange, and I want to be sure he's not going to get me back for it later."

"'I won't, I promise," said Sim, pulling his pants back on.

They escorted Robin and Awais back to Awais's house and then rode the rest of the way back to Uzzy's and went back into the tent.

"So, was that better?" asked Uzzy. "It sort of looked it, somehow, though I don't really see why."

"I don't know if it was really better. It was different, and it felt really, really good, but then when you did it to me earlier that felt good as well. I think it's in my head: when they're spanking me I can sort of feel how much they're enjoying it, and I can hear them laughing and having a brilliant time, and somehow that makes me feel good, too: it's like by being punished I make my friends feel good, and that's a really exciting feeling."

"That's amazing, Simmy: even when it's supposed to be about making you feel good you're thinking about making other people feel good, too. It just proves how special you are. 'Cos when you're sucking me I don't care how you feel as long as I feel good… well, I do care a bit, I suppose, because I wouldn't let you do it if I didn't think you liked doing it… but I'm really only interested in getting the feeling myself. But when you're getting the feeling you still want the people doing it to you to feel good as well. Now can you understand what a brilliant friend you are? I don't know anyone else who cares about his friends as much as you do, Simmy. And that's why I want us to be friends for ever, because even if I live to be a million I don't think I'll ever meet anyone else who's half as nice as you are."

And he hugged Sim hard, and Sim hugged him back and thought that maybe it didn't matter after all if he was a bit unusual: according to Uzzy, it was a nice sort of unusual. And maybe Uzzy was right. And in any case, as long as Uzzy was his friend it wouldn't matter what anyone else thought about him: he had a friend who loved him, and that was all he really needed to be happy.

So maybe at last Sim can stop worrying about being strange and just try to be happy instead – even if sometimes it's doing strange things that makes him happy. But happiness is clearly not on the agenda as far as the NF Youth Wing is concerned – things could turn really nasty here.

Chapter Twenty-One

Now we're getting to the crunch: Jeremy and Tony are both having a hard time of it getting through the week, knowing that Bilal will be back with them on Sunday. Can they make it through to the weekend without suffering nervous breakdowns? Let's find out…

Slowly the week went by, and somehow Jeremy dragged himself through it: Sunday, when he would finally have to face Bilal, loomed over everything he did, and made it hard for him to relax or enjoy himself. It would have been easier if he could have either accepted what Tony had told him – that Bilal would simply never want a physical relationship with him – or if he truly believed there was a chance that Tony was wrong. But instead he was caught between the two, mostly believing he had no chance but occasionally tormented by the mad hope that Bilal would change his mind.

Tony did his best to get him through the week, arranging to play tennis or go out on their bikes or to kick a ball about in Jeremy's garden, and he never complained, even though Jeremy knew he must have been really poor company a lot of the time. Several times he looked at Tony and thought how easily he could have agreed to go out with him, had it not been for the shadow of Bilal looming over everything and offering the faintest, tantalising chance of the relationship that Jeremy really wanted.

When Tony wasn't around Jeremy read books or watched rubbish on the television, but nothing took his mind off his situation for long. Sometimes he felt really bad about the way he was treating Tony, who had proved time and again through the week what a true friend he was. Jeremy realised how selfish he was being, holding out for an impossible dream instead of making Tony happy by accepting everything that he had to offer, but he couldn't help himself: as long as he could believe, no matter how fleetingly, in a future in Bilal's arms, he was unable to say 'yes' to a physical relationship with Tony.

He and Tony went to the cinema on Friday afternoon (and both parties were aware that this wasn't the 'date' it could have been) and got back to Jeremy's shortly before supper-time.

"I've been thinking," said Jeremy. "Maybe I won't come to football on Sunday… maybe it'd be better if I stayed at home."

"No, it damned well wouldn't be!" said Tony, forcefully. "I'm not putting up with another week like this – you're going to talk to him and sort things out. Or were you thinking of not turning up for school ever again, too? You can't keep avoiding this, Jeremy – you're going to have to deal with it. So you're going to be there on Sunday afternoon, unless you'd prefer to see him on your own on Sunday morning… that might be better, I'd have thought."

"No! I… I don't think I could face that, Tony… what if he slams the door in my face? At least at football everyone else will be there, so he can't go too mad at me…"

"I thought you reckoned there was a chance he'd want to go out with you," Tony reminded him. "He'd be more likely to talk about that in private, don't you think?"

"I'd be scared to risk it… unless… could you come with me?"

"That wouldn't be a good idea – he'd think we were ganging up on him. He and I got on okay while you were away, but only because we agreed not to talk about sex. Or about you, either. No, if you're going to see him in the morning, you'll have to go on your own."

"I don't think I can," said Jeremy, looking at the floor.

"Then you're coming on Sunday afternoon. It'll be okay there – all your other friends will be around, so the two of you can sort of ease back into talking to each other while we're playing football. Look, if I can use the phone I'll call Kam and find out what time we're going to be there. That way you won't have an excuse for not turning up."

"But…"

But Tony ignored him. He went downstairs, put his head round the living room door and asked Adolf, who had got home half an hour earlier, if he could use the phone, and when Adolf rather grumpily said 'yes' Tony dialled Kam's number and spoke to him briefly.

"Half-past two on Sunday afternoon," Tony reported, unaware that Adolf was now standing just inside the living room and listening. "And you're going to be there, or none of us will ever speak to you again. Got it? And now I've got to go home for supper."

And he left, and Jeremy felt as if the end of the world was at hand, and the Final Judgement would be taking place in the car park of the Hyde pub at two-thirty on Sunday afternoon.

***

Miguel, of course, was undergoing none of the mental agonies that were afflicting Jeremy. Instead he had spent the time since his return from Spain by arranging to visit his various friends (except for Andy, who was off visiting some relatives in Swindon, or somewhere equally unexciting). On the Tuesday Alex Hamilton had invited him round and asked him to stay the night, which he had done happily, even though they didn't actually get a chance to misbehave too much.

"Sorry I can't ask you to come to Pevensey with us next week," Alex told him. "But we're staying in a caravan, and there isn't a spare bunk."

"That is okay. We can always go somewhere together at half term," suggested Miguel. "Maybe we could borrow a tent and live there for a day or two. And in a tent, we would not have to wear any clothes…"

"That sounds like a great idea! We'll definitely have to do that."

"And maybe Andy can come with us, and then he and I can gang up on you and keep you naked all the time."

"You wouldn't do that," said Alex, confidently. "Not any more. We're friends now, aren't we?"

"That is true. Okay, no ganging up," agreed Miguel – and indeed he had got to like Alex enough over the summer that he didn't really want to gang up on him any more.

On the Thursday he went to visit James.

"How was Spain?" James asked him, as soon as they were alone in his bedroom.

"It was hot. You would not have enjoyed it. But… it is a pity we could not go on holiday together. Perhaps we can during the next holidays."

"I'm not sure where I'm going to be then. See, I got my results while you were away: I passed the Common Entrance. Really well, in fact."

"Great! Well done! Except…" Miguel stopped as he realised what this was going to mean – after all, James had been a senior, which meant that he had now left Inchley Manor. "Where are you going?"

"Harrow."

"Wow, you must really have done well, then… but… does that mean..?"

"Yes, I'm going as a boarder. So I'm not going to be around too much in future."

"Oh," said Miguel, suddenly looking less happy. "But… can we still be friends? I mean, will you be here for the holidays?"

"Yes, of course. And apparently you can come home occasionally at weekends during term as well, so it won't just be during the main holidays. We can still get together quite often."

"Yes, but… if you are going to be a boarder… well, you will make new friends, won't you? Then you won't want to play with a little kid such as me."

"Of course I will! Anyway, you'll be taking the CE yourself in a couple of years' time. You might end up at Harrow yourself."

"I do not think so," said Miguel, who had no illusions about his own brain-power. "And I am sure you will do well and make friends there – it is a good school, so I do not think you will be teased like as you are at Inchley."

"I hope you're right, but I'm not sure… still, I talked to my dad about it before we accepted the offer, and he said maybe I should try joining in if they make fun of me – sort of laugh at myself, and maybe make a few jokes of my own about my fingers falling off, or something. He said if I do that the nicer ones will like me and stop teasing me, and the nasty ones won't do it either if they see it doesn't make me annoyed or upset. I don't know if it'll work, but perhaps I'll try and see what happens. But even if I end up the most popular boy in the school I'm not going to stop being friends with you, because you were my friend here when I didn't have any others, and I'm not going to forget that. So we'll get together every time I'm home, and I'll write to you every week… if you want me to, that is."

"Of course I will want you to. But my letters won't be very good, I am afraid. I do not know what to write about in letters."

"It doesn't matter if it isn't very exciting. Just tell me what you're doing at school, and what you do at the weekends. Just getting a letter is really nice, especially if I feel a bit homesick at first, like my dad says I might.

"So… what did you do in Spain?"

"Well… before I tell you, could we try… you know, taking our clothes off again, like last time? I want to know if it feels nice again, like as it did before."

"Okay," agreed James at once. So they got undressed and then James reclined on his bed and Miguel came and lay down on top of him, facing him, and James put his arms round him and hugged him, and then said, "So… about your holiday..?"

And Miguel relaxed and nuzzled against his friend's cheek and told him everything, explaining how Alex had turned out to be really good company, and how they had slept naked together every night.

"Now I really wish I'd been able to come with you," said James. "I'd have happily stayed indoors all day long while you were at the beach if it meant we could have shared a bed at night. We could have held each other like this all night, and I would really have liked that."

"Me, too…And I've found out some other things we could do, too, and I will show you later, after we have stayed like this for a while longer…"

So they stayed like that for a bit longer, and then Miguel rolled off to the side and slid his hand down James's body as far as his penis.

"I have found out some really good ways to make your friends feel nice," he said, taking hold and squeezing gently until James was fully erect. "I did this one with Alex while we were in Spain."

He started to rub it very slowly, and James gave a little gasp and started to wriggle a bit.

"That feels nice," he said.

"Good. And soon it will feel even nicer," said Miguel, speeding up a little. But he wanted to make this last for a while, so after a minute or so he stopped, ignoring James's requests for him to carry on.

"It is best to stop sometimes, or it gets too exciting too quickly," he explained, before starting again, though very slowly.

He wasn't sure how long it would take: all he knew was that Kenji had got excited faster than Alex. Kenji was a year older than Alex, and James was a year older than Kenji, so perhaps it would happen to him even more quickly – which was why Miguel was being careful to stop or slow down frequently.

Then he thought about doing it the other way. He'd been reluctant to risk it with Alex, but he thought he and James were close enough friends to take that risk. So…

"Now I will show you another nice thing you can do," he said, and wriggled down James's body until his head was at groin level. "You do this," and he pulled James's erection into position and then closed his lips over the tip and slid it into his mouth.

"Miguel! What are you doing!?" cried James in a shocked voice.

"Shh!" said Miguel, slipping it out just long enough to answer the question. "This will feel really good." And he slid it in once more.

This wasn't quite as easy as it had been doing it for Kenji: James was a bit longer – so much so that Miguel couldn't get the whole length into his mouth without having it hit the back of his throat, and the first time that happened he thought he was going to be sick. It was a bit thicker, too, so he had to keep his mouth a bit more open, and that wasn't entirely comfortable at first. And there was one other problem, too, and that was that he was sure James was mature enough to have some of that liquid stuff, especially as, now that he was only a couple of inches away from James's groin, Miguel could see that there were some hairs there after all. They were really fine and virtually colourless, and there weren't very many, but it showed that James was getting quite grown-up… Okay, tasting Kenji's had proved that it tasted okay, but still Miguel wasn't sure about having some come straight out into his mouth.

But he kept going nonetheless, because James was his friend and because he thought he might not get too many more chances to do something nice for him before he went away to boarding school. He could tell that James was enjoying it: he was wriggling about and making little gasping sounds, and after a bit he put a hand on the back of Miguel's head and pressed down, sort of thrusting up underneath him at the same time.

He could tell from James's behaviour that he was getting close and so he braced himself for a taste of whatever-it-was – Kenji had said that his wasn't really sperm yet, but hadn't actually said what it was. But the moment still took him by surprise, because instead of a tiny amount he suddenly got a mouthful. He couldn't draw back because James was pressing down on the back of his head, so all he could do was to try to swallow it. He got some of it down, but more emerged to replace it, and it was blocking his throat so that he couldn't breathe… he spluttered and started coughing, and James let go of his head so that he could roll away, still coughing.

It took half a minute or so to get himself back under control, and by that time James was sitting next to him looking quite worried.

"Are you okay, Miguel?" he asked.

Miguel nodded. "I was just surprised," he said. "For a moment I could not breathe… but I hope I did not spoil it for you."

"What happened? I got this really strange feeling, like… well, I can't describe it, really. But it was amazing… so what did you do to me?"

"I do not know if there is a word for it. But it is what sex feels like – sort of."

"Really? Gosh… well, at least I know why older people seem to like sex, then, because that was a really good feeling. But… look, Miguel, I'm not sure if I can do that to you. It seems seriously weird, and… well…"

"You do not have to do it to me. That was a present, because you did well with your CE."

"I bet I don't get many presents like that, then…. Can you wait a minute? Only I think I need to pee."

James went to the bathroom and then came back wearing his pants.

"Look," he said, "if you really want me to, I suppose I could try to do that…"

Miguel would certainly have liked that, but it was obvious from the look on James's face that he didn't really want to, and was only offering out of a sense of duty. And Miguel didn't want to make his friend do something he was so obviously not happy about.

"No, thank you," he said. "But you can try to make me feel nice using your hand, if you don't mind that too much."

"I don't mind that at all. But you'll have to show me what to do."

So Miguel lay back on the bed and James sat down beside him and took hold carefully – of course, Miguel's erection was only around three inches [8 cm] long, and James found that the best way to do it was with just two fingers and a thumb. Miguel explained what felt best in terms of pressure and angle and speed and then James set to work.

He slowed down a little after a few seconds and then kept going steadily, refusing to speed up when Miguel asked him to – "after all, we have to make this last – isn't that what you said?" he explained, grinning. "We don't want you to get excited too quickly, do we?" And he kept going at a very sedate speed.

This was a little frustrating to Miguel at first, but gradually the warm feeling started to grow in his lower body, and then he began to wriggle about and thrust his groin against James's hand. And the feeling, when it came, was as good as ever, and afterwards Miguel sat up and hugged James, thinking how lucky he was to have three different friends to do this stuff with… and he hadn't even had a chance to teach Andy about it yet, either…

***

In complete contrast, Tony still had nobody to do it with, and by Saturday lunchtime he'd had more than enough of Jeremy's behaviour. They'd played tennis that morning, but it was obvious that Jeremy's mind was elsewhere, and he'd hardly spoken to Tony between games at all. When the game ended Tony stood up, put his racket back in its cover and headed for the park gate.

"Want to do something this afternoon?" Jeremy called after him.

"Sorry, I'm going out. I'll see you at football tomorrow – and you'd better be there, or… well, you'd just better be there." And he walked away.

***

"He's driving me mad," Tony told Kam that afternoon. "Most of the time he ignores me completely, but just occasionally he looks at me… well, the way I'd like him to all the time. Surely he knows what he's doing to me?"

"I don't think so, because if he stopped to think about it he'd realise what he's doing and stop. Anyway, after tomorrow it shouldn't be a problem any more – in fact he'll need you more than ever then."

"I know, except… well, sometimes I'm not sure it's what I want any more. I mean, I'm not sure I want to… you know, be with him, knowing it's only because he couldn't get the person he really wanted. It'd be like wearing a big label that says 'Second choice' or 'Not quite what he wanted', or something."

"It's not going to be like that. Once he finally manages to stop thinking about Bilal he'll be able to look at you properly, and then he'll see what you're really like and what a brilliant friend you've been to put up with all this. And he won't treat you as second best after that."

"I wish that was true, Kam."

"It is true, trust me."

"I don't know… somehow I don't think he'd accept it even if Bilal smacked him in the eye and told him to fuck off and never come back – I think he'd still go on believing he might change his mind later."

"No, he won't, because if he starts acting like that I'll smack him in the eye. But I seriously don't think I'll have to. I think it'll be like trying to have a sensible conversation with Neil halfway through the FA Cup Final: while the game's going on it's the only thing he's thinking about, but once the final whistle goes he's back to normal. And once Bilal blows the final whistle at Jeremy tomorrow, he'll return to normal, too."

"Well, I hope you're right, because I simply can't take any more of things as they are…"

***

Jeremy spent that Saturday afternoon sitting in front of the television but not really watching the sport. He was thinking about the look on Tony's face when he had left the park that morning, and he wasn't feeling good about it. He knew that he'd been poor company this week, but now for the first time he was putting himself in Tony's place, and he didn't like the way it made him feel. Bilal had, after all, only rejected him once, but he had been rejecting Tony, over and over again, all week…

He sat and thought about Tony – not about how Tony compared with Bilal, but about Tony for his own sake. He realised that most people would think Tony had exactly the sort of looks that are considered perfect: long, silky blond hair, blue eyes… okay, he still had his dental brace, but that would be coming off soon enough, and after that the smile should be perfect, too. He was tall – well, he was over five feet tall [1½ m], and three or four inches [8-10 cm] taller than Jeremy, anyway – and slim without being skinny, and good at sport; and, more important still, he had a warm and loving personality. And, finally, he actually wanted to go out with Jeremy.

Slowly it dawned on Jeremy just how stupid he was being. He knew in his heart that he wasn't going to change Bilal's mind – after all, Bilal had made it pretty clear that he wasn't interested, and had apparently confirmed this to Tony subsequently – and yet he had persisted with this stupid fantasy, to the point that he might even have lost Tony as well, if that look on his face this morning was anything to go by.

That was a truly awful thought, but he supposed that it would serve him right if it happened, because he really had treated Tony appallingly badly since getting back from America. And he remembered what Raul had told him: if he lost Tony, what were the chances of finding another gay boy who would be prepared to go out with him?

He decided that as soon as he saw Bilal next day he would apologise for embarrassing him and promise never to raise the subject again. And then he would ask Tony if he still wanted to go out with him. And if he said 'yes' he would pay for them to go to the cinema together, and if he had enough money left over he'd take him for a pizza afterwards, too. He just hoped that it wasn't too late to rescue the situation…

***

On Saturday evening Miguel got a phone call from Jeremy telling him that they would be getting together to play football the following afternoon as usual. They chatted briefly about their trips to America and Spain, and Jeremy asked if Miguel wanted to come round on the Sunday morning to play tennis; but Miguel had to turn him down because he had already arranged to go to see Kenji instead. Kenji had invited him to stay for lunch, promising him something other than raw fish, and Miguel had accepted and suggested that maybe Kenji would like to come and play football with him and his friends after lunch, and Kenji had agreed to do that.

So on the Sunday morning Miguel cycled round to Kenji's house and the two of them went up to Kenji's room and closed the door. To start with they just told each other about their respective family holidays – Kenji and his family had spent a couple of weeks sailing round the Norfolk Broads in a boat: his father was an amateur ornithologist, and apparently there were lots of birds to see there.

"It was quite fun, actually," said Kenji, when Miguel asked if he hadn't got bored, just looking at birds all day. "We didn't just look at birds, and it's sort of peaceful, just sailing along slowly watching the world go past. So, the kid you took to Spain instead of me worked out okay, then, did he?"

Miguel nodded. "He was fun," he said. "And we tried some of the sex things you showed me, too."

"Thought you might. Did he like being sucked, then?"

"We did not actually do that, just with the hand. But he liked that a lot."

"Most people do – well, they do if it's done properly, anyway…"

"And… are we going to practise today – just to make sure we are doing it properly, of course?"

"I expect we could do that if you like."

"Great!" And Miguel stood up and started to get undressed.

Kenji laughed at him. "You're getting sex mad, Mig," he said. "You must really enjoy this stuff."

Miguel nodded rapidly. "It is fun," he confirmed.

"Yes, well, not always… still… look, if you're really serious about learning about sex, there is one more thing I could show you…"

"Yes, please!" said Miguel enthusiastically, pulling his pants off and revealing his excitement.

"You know, I really do worry about you sometimes," remarked Kenji, standing up and starting to undress himself. "If you keep rushing into things…. well, never mind. Lie down, then."

Miguel did that, and Kenji lay next to him and began to stroke his chest. And once again, even though his friend's hands were nowhere near his genitals, Miguel thought that this felt really nice.

"So, what is it that you are going to show me today?" he asked.

"Well, there is one more thing that boys can do together," Kenji said. "I don't think you're really big enough to do it to me yet, but I could do it to you: I could fuck you."

Miguel looked confused. "But… I thought… well, you can only do that with a girl?"

"No, you can do it with a boy, too, but you do it differently. If I was doing it to you I would put my cock up your bum."

"Eurgh! That sounds nasty, Kenji. I don't think I want to try that."

"Are you sure? It feels really nice… well, it is nice if you are doing it. Sometimes it is not so good if it is done to you."

"No, thank you," said Miguel, firmly. "I do not want for us to do this… perhaps when I am a little older, but not now. But… I don't mind to do the other things you have showed me."

"Okay. Roll onto your side facing me, then, and we can feel each other…"

They did that for a while, then rubbed each other, but only for a few seconds at a time, and then Kenji showed Miguel how they could both suck each other at the same time, and Miguel didn't mind that a bit, though he was still a bit wary of the final moment, even though he knew that Kenji wouldn't make anything like as much of the liquid stuff as James had done.

But Kenji wouldn't let him get that far, insisting that they stop completely when he felt himself getting too excited. It was only after several stops and starts that he actually allowed himself to finish, and considerately he gave Miguel plenty of warning before he actually ejaculated. And Miguel had no trouble with it at all – compared with what James had produced, this was virtually nothing. He swallowed it down without complaint and then rolled away.

"Wait a moment," said Kenji. "You haven't had the feeling yet, have you? No, I thought not… lie on your back, then."

Miguel did that and Kenji sucked away until Miguel's back arched in orgasm.

"Sex is something you should share," he said, once Miguel had recovered. "If we're going to do stuff like this together, we should both get to feel good, not just one of us. Just using someone else to make yourself feel good isn't what friends should do to each other – at least, I don't think so."

"Nor do I. I will never do that with you, Kenji, I promise."

"I believe you. Come on, let's get dressed."

They stood up and started to put their clothes back on.

"Kenji… how do you know so much about sex?" asked Miguel. "Did your father teach you?"

"God, no. No, I sort of found out the hard way."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really want to know? Well… okay, I suppose I might as well tell you. I reckon I can trust you not to tell anyone else about it… it is pretty embarrassing, after all. See, we haven't lived here very long, only about a year and a half. We used to live… well, it doesn't really matter where it was, but I went to a martial arts club there, too. And there was a boy there – his name was John – who seemed friendly. He was about a year older than me, I suppose, and so I was sort of flattered that he would take the time to talk a younger kid. So when he invited me to go home with him one day I went quite happily.

"That first afternoon we just messed about in his room. We did some practice fighting – he'd been doing it longer than me, so most of the time he won, but it was fun, anyway. And so the next time he invited me I said yes straight away. On that occasion he suggested we should fight just wearing shorts – our fighting kit was pretty sweaty, since we'd been wearing it at the club, so again I said yes without thinking twice about it. And after we'd been fighting for a bit he got me pinned down and ordered me to submit. I didn't – it wasn't really hurting, and I thought I might be able to get out of the hold – so he said, «Okay, then» and undid my shorts. Of course, I struggled and wriggled and told him to stop, but it didn't do any good: he undid them completely and pulled them and my pants right off.

"I was always shy about undressing in front of anyone – basically I never did, except when I had to at the doctor's, or something – and I didn't like this at all.

"«You look funny like that,» said John, rolling off me and helping me up. «Come on, see if you can get mine off, too.»

"«I want to get dressed,» I said.

"«Not yet. You have to fight me again first. If you win and get my shorts off I'll let you get dressed.»

"I tried to grab my clothes anyway, but he wouldn't let me, and in the end I grabbed him and wrestled. I was angry and embarrassed, and maybe that's why I got him onto the floor, but thinking about it since I guess maybe he let me win. Anyway, I pulled his shorts and pants down, and saw that his one was stiff. Now, that happened to me occasionally, but I thought maybe it was just because there was something wrong with it – I mean, I hadn't actually asked anyone, because I was too embarrassed. But now here was another boy it happened to as well, and when I saw it I sort of forgot to be angry.

"«Wow, it's big, isn't it?» I said. «And it's all hard, too. Does that happen to it a lot?»

"«Quite a lot,» he said. «Why, does it happen to you, too?»

"I nodded, so he wriggled out from underneath me – I didn't try to stop him – and then he said, «Let's see if we can make yours go hard too, then,» and he actually took hold of it. Nobody had ever touched me there and I felt shocked – but then it sort of felt nice, too, somehow. Anyway, he got me stiff and then persuaded me to feel his – which I quite wanted to do, anyway – and then we compared them. He was bigger, of course – he was older than me, and mine wasn't very big then, about like yours is now, I suppose – but he didn't have any hair or anything. Well, it was sort of fun touching his cock and balls, and I quite liked being touched, too, so after that when he suggested strip fights, or even starting the fight with us both naked, I didn't mind at all.

"Then one day he suggested that whoever lost the fight had to accept a dare, and I agreed to that, and when I lost the next fight he said that I had to kiss his cock. Well, I supposed that wasn't too bad, so he stood on a chair and I stood in front of him and kissed it – and just as I did there was a flash. I jumped back and saw that there was an older boy standing in the doorway holding a camera.

"«This is my brother Nick,» John told me, grinning. «He's been wanting to meet you…»

"Anyway, to cut it short, they told me that if I didn't do exactly what they told me to, a copy of that photo would go up on the wall at the club, and they might even send one to my father, so that he could see what sort of son he had. So I didn't think I had any choice but to agree.

"And that's how I learned about sex, first about rubbing it, then about sucking, and finally about fucking. To start with it wasn't too bad – in fact it was even sort of fun, because they usually rubbed mine to make me excited after I had done it for both of them. John said I looked really funny when I got excited… and sucking on John's was okay, I suppose. But sucking on Nick was less fun, because he was thirteen and could already make quite a bit of sperm – he had a big one, at least five inches [13 cm], with some hair on it – and he never warned me when it was about to come out. But I managed.

"And then John wanted to fuck me. I suppose he was about the same size as I am now, or maybe slightly smaller, but it still hurt most times he did it. But once or twice, when it was fully in, it sort of felt good, too, though obviously I never told them that.

"And then Nick wanted to do it. I really didn't want him to, because it was sore enough when John did it, and Nick was quite a bit bigger. They threatened me with the photo, but I still said I didn't want to – I'd do all the other stuff they wanted, but not that. And I thought I'd won the argument, because Nick simply went out. But he came back twenty minutes later with another boy of the same age, and they simply held me down and did it to me. Both of them. To be fair to John, he did try to get them to stop, but they just ignored him.

"I can't start to tell you how much it hurt – I've never felt anything like it. Eventually they finished, said that if I told anyone they'd not only say that I asked them to do it, but they'd show everyone the photo as proof of what a disgusting boy I was. And I didn't intend telling anyone, but… well, I was bleeding, and the next day mum wanted to know how I'd got all that blood on my pants… and it all came out. They took me to hospital, and then the police got involved… Nick and his friend got sent to some sort of special school. They couldn't charge them with what they actually did because the law says they were too young to have done it, or something, but they found something to charge them with. I stuck up for John a bit – I mean, okay, it was him who got me into it in the first place, but I hadn't minded too much doing stuff with him. So I told the police he tried to get his brother to stop, and I think he got off okay.

"After that my father thought we should move so that I could make a fresh start, so we came here. But I find it hard to trust people now, so I've never really tried to make friends at school, or at the martial arts club. You're about the first person I've let make friends with me since."

"So that is why you asked if I had a brother?" asked Miguel.

Kenji nodded. "And it's why I've never suggested coming to your house, too. I've been too scared to visit anyone except family since. Except… I think maybe now I know you well enough to trust you properly – so… perhaps I could come round to visit you sometime?"

"You can come whenever you want," said Miguel, moving round the bed so that he was sitting right next to Kenji. "I am really sorry those horrible things happened to you, Kenji." And he put his arms round his friend and hugged him, and after a moment Kenji hugged him back.

"Not everyone is like those boys," Miguel went on. "None of my friends would do things like that. You know about Andy and James, and there is Alex, the boy who came on holiday with me, too. They are all really nice, and I am sure they would like to be friends with you. And this afternoon you will meet my other friends, the ones who do not go to our school. You will like them, and I am sure that they will like you, too. You will see – soon you will have lots of friends again…"

"Well… I hope so. I just might want to take it a bit slowly at first. But I think that as long as you're there it'll be okay."

"Of course I will be there. I am your friend, and proper friends help each other."

"Thanks, Mig. I think maybe this afternoon will be okay, after all. I've been a bit worried about meeting a whole lot of new people, but perhaps it's time I did try something like this. And we're only going to be kicking a ball about with your friends, after all. I don't suppose anything nasty could happen doing that…"

That, for those who don't already know, is called 'dramatic irony', because we all know something that Kenji doesn't. And in the next – which will also be the final – chapter, we'll get to see exactly what happens in the Hyde car park on Sunday afternoon, and where things end up as a result.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Well, here we are at the final chapter. For most of this last section the centre of the universe is going to be a semi-disused car park at the back of the Hyde pub in Poundford Spa. But it looks as if the most important person in the whole story might not even be there…

"You're not going," said Adolf.

"What?!"

"I want you to stay at home this afternoon. It won't do you any harm to have a Sunday indoors for once."

"Yes, but why this week?"

"Well, it's been five weeks now since you last saw that coloured boy. Maybe if you can get through the whole summer without seeing him you might realise that you don't need friends like that."

"But…" Jeremy forced himself to shut up: he hadn't got around to putting the rope and a spare set of clothes back into the spare room yet, and that meant that if he got locked in for the afternoon he'd be stuck there. By keeping quiet he at least left himself the possibility of sneaking out later. Though at least part of him was inclined to stay at home anyway, as a means of postponing what were likely to be difficult conversations. And Tony couldn't complain about it if he didn't turn up now, because he could genuinely explain that Adolf had forbidden him to leave the house.

"Well… okay, then," he said. "I'll go and listen to some music in my room."

He went upstairs, turned on his radio and lay back on the bed, trying to decide if he really wanted to go and face Bilal or not. At about quarter past two he went downstairs and collected a can of Coke from the kitchen, taking it back up to his room and then closing the door once more. The previous day he had been clear in his mind as to what he should do, and he still felt much the same now, except… it was going to be really difficult to face Bilal, even if he did simply intend to apologise to him.

About ten minutes later Adolf called up the stairs for him to turn the volume down, and he stuck his head out of the door long enough to yell "Sorry!" before lowering the volume a bit. He wasn't to know that Adolf was simply making sure he hadn't left the house, of course.

Finally Jeremy made up his mind: this had to be resolved, because it had been dragging on for far too long, making Tony's life a misery, and probably Bilal's, too. It was time to stop chickening out.

He opened his bedroom window, climbed out onto the porch and lowered himself to the ground. He couldn't risk going to the shed to get his bike in case Adolf looked out of the window and saw him, so he set off for the Hyde on foot. He might get there a little late, but that wouldn't matter, as long as he got there.

***

"He's not going to turn up," said Tony, looking at his watch.

""It's only just half-past," Kam pointed out. "Give him a chance."

"No, he's bottled it," insisted Tony. "I knew he'd do this. I'll bloody kill him next time I see him."

"Maybe he's had a row with Adolf and got grounded again," suggested Uzzy.

"Well, maybe," conceded Tony. "In fact, he might even have done that deliberately, just to get out of coming."

"Why would he want to do that?" asked Neil, who obviously was unaware of the background.

"Well… never mind, it's a long story. Shall we get on with it? He can always join in when he gets here – if he gets here… Anyone know if Miguel's coming today? Jeremy said he was going to call him, so he should know about it."

But nobody had seen or heard from Miguel, so in the end Tony said that they might just as well start with a three-a-side game for now while they were waiting for the other two to turn up.

"I'll ref the first game, if you like," he said. "We haven't got Jeremy's cards, so the rest of you pair off and do rock-paper-scissors, and the winners can go on one team and the losers on the other."

They did that and were just about to start the game when Jeremy arrived, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Adolf didn't want me to come, but…"

He looked at his friends. Tony looked a little surprised, but was smiling nonetheless, which was promising. Bilal, on the other hand, looked much less happy.

"Look, Bilal, I…" began Jeremy, but Bilal backed off, holding up his hands in a warding-off gesture.

"Sorry, Jeremy, but I don't want to talk about it," he said. "In fact, it might be better if I went home… maybe we shouldn't…"

"Oi!"

They spun round, thinking that the owner of the pub had arrived to complain about them playing football on his property. But instead they saw six boys approaching them from the other end of the car park.

"Oh, shit," muttered Neil, who recognised three of them: Edwards, Wells and Atkinson, in full skinhead uniform of tight jeans and big boots. He didn't know the other three, but they were dressed the same way and had identical shaven heads, and that told its own story.

"We want a word," said Wells. "We don't like Pakis stinking out our town. And what the fuck are you white kids doing hanging about with shit like this? Anyway, it's not you we want, so you can all fuck off – except you, Carter. You and the Pakis can stay for a chat. The rest of you, get lost."

"I don't think so," said Tony. "I'm staying put."

"Suit yourself," said Wells. "Fucking hair like that, you've got to be some sort of hippy or something, and we don't like that sort, either. What about you?" he said to Jeremy and Sim.

"I'm staying," said Sim, moving to stand in front of Uzzy.

"Me, too," said Jeremy.

"Well, in that case…"

***

Lunch at Kenji's house had lasted a bit longer than expected, and so Kenji and Miguel didn't get away from the house until after two-thirty. Neither was particularly worried about this: Miguel knew that they'd be able to join in with the game as soon as they arrived, and Kenji was just looking forward – albeit a little apprehensively – to meeting all Miguel's friends, so neither was looking at his watch. They reached the path, walked up it as far as the car park, and stopped dead: the rest of the Collection was there, facing up to half a dozen skinheads who were all a year or two older than any of them.

"Oi, Rob, here's another one," said the skinhead nearest to the path as Miguel and Kenji appeared.

"God, this town is full of Pakis, isn't it?" commented Wells.

"I am not a… not from Pakistan," said Miguel. "I am Spanish."

"You look like a fucking Paki to me," said Wells. "Go on, then, say something in Spanish."

"¡Maricón!" replied Miguel, confident that the skinhead couldn't understand him. "¡Hijo de puta!"

"Sounds Spanish, I suppose. Okay, then, you can fuck off – and take your Chink friend with you – we're only dealing with Pakis today."

"I'm Japanese," Kenji told him.

"Chinese, Japanese, I don't give a fuck. Now piss off, before I change my mind."

"Come on, Miguel," said Kenji, in a low voice. "We'd better go."

"I am not going. These are my friends."

"Yes, but… if you stay, you're going to get hurt. It's obvious."

"I know. But… I cannot leave. You should go – this is nothing to do with you. Go and call for the police."

"Sorry, but if you're staying, so am I. We're friends, remember? And you know that I hate bullies…"

"Well… okay, then. We're staying," he told the skinhead, in a louder voice. "These are our friends." And he walked over to join the rest of the Collection, and Kenji followed him.

"Your choice," said Wells. "I don't care how many I have to kick as long as the lesson gets across."

"Lesson?" said Bilal, who was in no mood for this: his emotions were all over the place to start with, and suddenly being confronted with a bunch of stupid racist thugs was all it took to push him over the edge. "Who the hell are you to give anyone lessons in anything? You're so bloody thick it's a miracle you ever get those stupid boots laced properly. Why don't you all just sod off and leave us alone?"

"What? How… fuck!" spluttered Wells. "Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that? Why don't you just fuck off to where you belong?"

"I belong here," Bilal told him. "I was born here. We all were. And your ancestors didn't start here, either – they came from Germany or France or Denmark or somewhere originally, so you're as much immigrants as we are."

"Don't talk shit – we're white."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Everything, innit? This is a white country!"

"God, you really are thick, aren't you? I…"

"You boys! What are you doing?"

Everyone turned to look at the man who had just appeared at the end of the path. Five minutes after Jeremy had slipped out of his window his mother had gone up to ask whether there was anything special that he wanted for tea and so had discovered that he had gone, and as soon as she told Adolf he had realised that Jeremy was almost certainly going to the car park – which was exactly where Adolf didn't want him to be, of course. So he had jumped into the car and driven straight round to the Hyde, only to find the pub empty (it was Sunday, of course, when pubs had to be closed after two p.m.) and the car park gate shut. He'd known there was another way into the car park and had just found it – and apparently just in time, because it looked as if nobody had been hurt yet.

But Wells didn't know who he was and nor did he care: he was incandescent with rage that some fucking Paki bastard had just called him thick, and nothing was going to stop him dealing with it. So he turned to face Adolf.

"Fuck off, granddad," he spat out. "Just piss off before you get hurt."

Now it was Adolf's turn to turn purple. "Do you know who I am?" he managed to say.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, just get lost." And Wells pulled out his knife and flicked the blade open.

"But… you stupid shit, I'm the NF branch secretary."

"I don't care if you're Adolf fucking Hitler," responded Wells, stepping towards him and flourishing the blade. "If you're still here in five seconds I'm going to cut your stupid ears off. One, two, three…"

Adolf had never been so furious in his life. He could hardly speak in his rage – how dare this stupid yob speak to him like that? And actually threatening him with a knife… it was unthinkable! It was…

And he was suddenly aware of a pain in his chest, and his left arm was tingling… and the pain got worse… he stumbled off to the left, leaned against the fence and slid down it onto the ground.

"'Ere, do you think he's okay?" asked Edwards, looking worried.

"Fuck him," said Wells, dismissively, turning back to face Bilal. "Now you, you little shit: if you don't get down on your knees and apologise, I'm going to fucking kill you, right? So kneel."

"Go wank a donkey," said Bilal, clearly.

There was an amazed silence. Wells' jaw literally dropped open in shock, and so did those of his friends – and, indeed, those of the Collection, who had never seen Bilal in this mood. It was hard to tell which of them was most furious: Bilal, for being confronted with a thick racist thug when he wasn't in a mood for anything like it, or Wells, for finding a Paki brat at least three years younger than him who actually dared to give him lip. But Wells had the knife, and he had been pushed past any restraint. He drew back his arm and hurled the knife at Bilal.

Jeremy saw it was about to happen: he'd seen the same brand of racist nonsense day in, day out, of course, and he knew how Wells would be likely to react to Bilal's defiance. So he tried to put himself between Bilal and the skinhead, confident that Wells wouldn't try to knife a white kid, no matter how angry he was. But he hadn't counted on Wells throwing the knife instead of advancing and using it to stab, and so he was too slow in starting to move. As Wells' arm came back Jeremy spread his own arms and shouted "No!", but it was too late: Wells hurled the knife. If Jeremy hadn't tried to get in the way it would have hit Bilal squarely in the chest, but instead it thumped into Jeremy's right arm just above the elbow.

It didn't hurt much at first: it just felt as if he had been punched. But after a couple of seconds the fact that there was a knife blade right through his arm and sticking out the other side sank in and he cried out and dropped to his knees.

The skinheads had never heard of the Sacred Band of Thebes, of course, and neither had Jeremy's friends, but the Band's principle ('if you hurt someone I love you're in deep, deep shit') governed what happened next: the Collection were all devoted to Jeremy, who was fundamentally the reason they were all friends in the first place, and seeing him hurt like that sent them berserk. And while Kenji didn't know Jeremy at all, he hated bullying in every form, and so when the rest of the Collection charged, he didn't hold back.

The skinheads were all fourteen or fifteen years old, except for the thirteen-year-old Edwards, but that didn't bother the Collection at all. Tony and Bilal took one look at each other and charged at Wells, screaming with rage, and the older boy didn't have a chance – he got one kick in and was then hurled to the ground. His friends didn't do any better, though they might have got the upper hand if it hadn't been for Kenji, who for once was able to put his training into practice without holding anything back. He put two skinheads on the floor in quick succession, and the third one he squared up to had the sense to run.

Edwards managed to avoid Kenji and decided to try to get some blows in against the smaller kids, but unfortunately for him he picked on Miguel, and once again Kenji's training paid off. He was a little too enthusiastic about the follow-up hold, and Edwards screamed as his elbow was dislocated.

The last skinhead standing decided he'd had enough, too, and fled down the path. Bilal stood up, finally calming down a little, and looked around. Wells and one of the other skinheads seemed to be unconscious; one was sitting on the wall looking pale and holding his arm; two had disappeared completely, and the last one was pinned down beneath Kam and Neil. On his own side, everyone was still apparently okay except for Tony, who was sitting on the ground rubbing a sore leg, and Sim, who had taken a fist in the face and whose mouth was bleeding. And Jeremy, of course…

"Oh, shit," said Bilal, seeing that Jeremy had just pulled the knife from his arm. "You should have left it in, you idiot…"

He got there in time to grab Jeremy as he fell over, blood pouring from his arm. "Someone run up to the pub and call for an ambulance," he said, pulling his shirt over his head. "Neil or Kam, one of you would be best – they'd be more likely to listen to someone a bit older. Tony, can you use that leg?"

Tony nodded. "Just a dead leg," he said. "It'll be okay in a minute."

"Then run back to my house and get my dad. Tell him to bring his bag. Uzzy… no, it'd better be… Sim, can you go and check on Jeremy's step-dad? I don't think there's a lot we can do, but maybe he's carrying some pills he needs, or something. Uzzy, Awais – if blood doesn't bother you, come here and help me. Mig, you and your friend…"

"Kenji," Miguel supplied.

"Okay – well, can you two keep an eye on the skinheads? If they look like waking up, hit them again or something."

Bilal folded his shirt up and put it over the two wounds on Jeremy's arm, getting Uzzy to hold it in place while he pulled the belt from Jeremy's jeans and then used it to keep the shirt tight against the wounds. By now Jeremy was almost unconscious, lying on the ground with Awais supporting his head, and Bilal was getting worried about the amount of blood he was losing: the shirt he had put over the wound was already turning red.

Tony returned a few minutes later with Dr Khan, who took one look at the scene and assessed that there were at least three patients here that would need hospital treatment. He took a quick look at Jeremy and checked that Bilal was doing all he could to apply direct pressure to the wounds, recognised that a dislocated elbow might hurt but could wait until the ambulance arrived, rapidly checked that both unconscious skinheads were still breathing and not apparently in any danger, and then turned his attention to Adolf, who seemed to have suffered a heart attack. He was still at work when the ambulance arrived (the pub owner had opened the gates to let the emergency vehicles into the car park).

He spoke to the crew, who radioed for reinforcements, and a second ambulance arrived just as the first crew had finished loading Adolf into their vehicle. The second crew got Jeremy onto a stretcher.

"Can I go with him?" asked Bilal.

"There won't be room. We'll go in my car," his father told him. But they had to wait, because at that point the police arrived – the pub owner had insisted on calling them when Neil had told him why they needed an ambulance – and they had to stay to explain what had happened.

***

Jeremy woke up in bed. For a moment he wasn't sure where he was or why his arm was hurting, but then he remembered what had happened. He turned his head… and there was Bilal sitting in the chair beside the bed. And he was holding Jeremy's hand.

"Hi," said Jeremy. "What happened? Is everyone okay?"

"All except you. They've been pouring fresh blood into you for a while… why did you pull the knife out, you moron?"

"Because it hurt. Look, Bilal…"

"Later," said Bilal, though he didn't let go of Jeremy's hand. "We can talk about it later."

"No, we should talk about it now. Is… is Tony here?"

"He went to find something to drink," said Bilal. "He'll be back in a minute, I should think. And your mum's here, too, but she's with Adolf at the moment."

"Oh. Is he here as well?"

"Yes, but he's in an adult ward. He had a heart attack, but my dad says he's probably going to be okay. Not that we should care – except he did try to stop the skinheads, I suppose."

"Yes… except… how did he know where I was? I've never told him where we play football."

Bilal shrugged. "It's not important, is it?" he said. "You're okay, and that's all I care about."

Jeremy was about to respond to that when Tony came in, carrying two cans of Coke.

"You're awake, then," he said. He seemed uncomfortable.

"No, this is my ghost," said Jeremy. "Look… sit down a minute. I need to talk to both of you."

"It's okay, I'll just go," said Tony.

"No, you won't. Sit down, or I'll never talk to you again."

Tony hesitated, but then came and sat on the second chair next to Bilal.

"Look, I've been really stupid about everything," Jeremy began. "I'm really sorry – especially to you, Tony. And… Bilal, I'm sorry I embarrassed you before I went to America. Although… you haven't actually changed your mind about girls, have you? Only… well, you're holding my hand, that's all."

"I'm holding your hand because you're my best friend, not because I want to marry you, okay? And because you sort of saved my life this afternoon, of course…"

"Okay. Well, in that case… Tony?"

"What?"

"I'm really, really sorry about the way I've behaved since I got back home. And… well… see, it's just… if you're not completely pissed off with me, I mean… could we…. I mean, do you think…"

"Oh, for God's sake, Jeremy," said Bilal. "Tony, Jeremy wants to know if you still want to go out with him."

"Is that what you want to know?" asked Tony, looking at Jeremy with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes," said Jeremy, not daring to meet Tony's eyes. "I don't deserve you, but… yes. Please?"

"Well…"

"Please?"

"Oh, God – yes, obviously, you moron! Of course I do!"

And Jeremy's face lit up in a big smile, and Tony came round to the other side of the bed, where Jeremy's good arm was, helped him to sit up in bed and then hugged him. And then Bilal leaned in from the other side and hugged them both, and then, to Jeremy's absolute astonishment, kissed him on the cheek.

"I should say sorry, too," he explained. "I've thought some bad things about both of you. But when you nearly die and only don't because a friend sticks himself in the way it sort of makes you start thinking about what's important and what isn't. And I reckon what's important is the three of us being together. So I've decided that I don't care what you decide to do together, because you're my two best friends, and I don't want that to change, so… if you two don't mind hanging around with a weird boy who likes girls… well, can we go back to how we were before?"

"I'd really like that," said Jeremy.

"Me, too," said Tony.

"Then that's settled. And nothing's going to come between us again, right?"

"Right!"

***

The hospital kept Jeremy in overnight to check that his blood-count was more or less back to normal and then let him go home. They let Adolf out at the same time, so Jeremy's mum drove them home together and then parked them in the living room while she went to make them something to eat.

"So?" said Jeremy, once they were alone. "How does it feel knowing that a Paki doctor saved your life?"

"I've already spoken to… to Dr Khan. But it doesn't really change anything. After all, if the Paki kids hadn't been there none of it would have happened."

Jeremy gaped at him. "They were just peacefully minding their own business playing football," he said. "How can that be an excuse for knifing people?"

"That wasn't supposed…" Adolf shut up suddenly in mid-sentence.

Jeremy stared at him. "That wasn't supposed… to happen," he concluded, in disbelief. "You knew! You knew those skinheads were coming – that's how you knew where we were! I couldn't work it out before, because I've never told you where we play – but you knew – you had to know to send them round. Who told you? Was it the pub owner?"

"I didn't send them. But… yes, I knew. That's why I wanted you to stay at home: I didn't want you getting hurt."

"But you don't care if my friends get murdered, do you?!"

"I didn't know they'd do anything stupid like carrying knives. They were just supposed to rough the Paki kids up a bit… look, Jeremy, I explained it to you before. They shouldn't be here. We thought if the boys shook them up a bit their parents might decide to move away, that's all."

"And where are they supposed to go? To somewhere else in England where the local whites don't want them, either? Or are they all supposed to get on a boat and sail off to a country most of them have never seen – all the Asian kids I know were born here: this is their home! This is… oh, hell, I give up. What would the police say if they knew?"

"Nothing. It wasn't official in any way, just some kids acting on their own. Okay, we didn't stop them, but that's not illegal – and we really didn't know they'd have knives."

"And what does mum think?"

That made Adolf sit up. "She doesn't know. That I knew about it, I mean. And it wouldn't do any good if you told her, because I'd have to deny it – and she'd probably believe me, because he knows you don't like me. She'd think you were making it up."

"Really? Shall we find out?"

"What's the point in upsetting her? Look, Jeremy, whether you like me or not I'm doing my best to make a decent home for you. And, okay, what happened shouldn't have happened, but it doesn't alter the fact that I'm right, and immigration is damaging the country. One day you'll see that for yourself. So… let it go, okay?"

"But why should I let it go?"

Adolf sighed. "Okay," he said. "Like I said before, I suppose you're old enough to make some of your own decisions now. And I can tell you really like the Khan boy, even if I'm sure he's not good for you… so, if you agree to not bother your mother with this, I'll stop trying to prevent you from seeing him. And you can invite him round, if you absolutely insist – but only to your own room, okay? From now on, your room is your territory, and you can invite whoever you like there. But… if you misbehave, I can still suspend that right, understand? I'm still responsible for teaching you good behaviour, after all. So – do we have a deal?"

"That seems fair," agreed Jeremy. "Thanks. But if any more of my friends get threatened I might change your mind."

"Don't push it, Jeremy. I'll give you my word that I won't have anything to do with that sort of thing in future, and if I find out that anyone else in the Front is thinking about it I'll try to change their mind. But that's because this is going to give us some very bad publicity, not because I think it's wrong. And I can't give you any guarantees – you saw for yourself that those boys didn't take any notice of me, after all."

"Well… okay. Then we have a deal."

***

Jeremy spent the rest of Monday recuperating, but on Tuesday morning he felt well enough to go round to Tony's house, and Tony took him up to his bedroom and closed the door.

"So, how are you feeling?" Tony asked.

"Not too bad. The arm's a bit sore, but I'm managing to do most things. Look…. I meant what I said at the hospital, Tony: I'm really sorry for messing you about like I did. You've been a brilliant friend, and I really don't deserve you."

"That's true," said Tony, grinning, "but you're stuck with me anyway, because I'm not letting you go now, not after all the trouble I've had getting you. So even if Bilal suddenly comes over all queer, you're sticking with me, okay?"

"I promise," said Jeremy, hugging him hard.

"So, what would you like to do today? I don't suppose you can play tennis with that arm – it gives you an even better excuse than usual for being crap. Though it had better be working properly by the weekend, because now we've finally got ten players we're definitely playing football this week. And if that friend of Miguel's can play football half as well as he can fight, he'll be amazing."

"You don't think the skinheads will be back, then?"

"God, no. Bilal's dad says they've got the leader for any number of things, including GBH and even attempted murder, if they decide to go after that – so he won't be back for years. And one of them's got his arm in plaster, and Kam says he's going to put it all over the school that it was done by an eleven-year-old. And the rest got their arses kicked by a load of little kids – at least, that's how Bilal's dad put it. They'll be so ashamed they won't show their faces for ages, and even then they'll leave us alone in case we do it again. So football is definitely back on at the weekend.

"In the meantime, though, what do you want to do?"

"Could we just stay here for a bit? See, I've got a serious problem: with my right hand out of use it takes me forever to get undressed, and I wondered if you'd like to help me."

"I expect I could do that," said Tony, grinning, and proceeded to prove it. For good measure he took his own clothes off, too.

"Is there anything else you normally use your right hand for that you'd like me to help you with?" he asked.

"It's funny you should say that," said Jeremy, lying down on the bed and grinning at him. "Come and lie here beside me and let's see if we can think of anything…"

…and there, I think, we can safely leave them.

The End