Trennor

The New Cumbria Chronicles
Marty & Daryl
Book One

Chapters 7-10

Chapter Seven
Days of Hell

Marty was miserable next day; he refused to get up when Dad called him to breakfast early in the morning, and as Dad had to report for work, he didn't have time to investigate his son's strange behaviour. He left ingredients for breakfast in the fridge; the boy could cook up his own if he liked, or not.

More than a few tears had been shed the night before into Marty's pillow. Tears for Dary's betrayal. Tears for the loss of Dary. Tears for the lost friendships with Robbie and Joel. Marty was certain he'd just dashed all hopes of future friendships in New Cumbria. Had he acted rashly? Gotten mad in the heat of the moment for no reason? No, he could still firmly shake his head 'no' in answer. There was no way he would have given in to their importunity. They all, especially Dary, should have known better. There was no way he would have abased himself on that altar, even the name of friendship. Boyfriends or not, Dary had no reason to expect that of him.

He'd better get used to being alone, save for his Dad. Which meant, of course, four long days of boredom while Dad flew his aeroplane for the police. Maybe he could fill some of those days with chores; Dad sometimes left him lists of things he could do. They were actually expectations for completion before Dad returned home from work. They had started appearing back in Oregon, and Marty hoped the move to New Cee might have terminated them, but it was a wan hope. The lists had reappeared shortly after they'd bought this house in Normanton.

The chores were the usual: please mow the lawns, please make sure the trash and recycling are taken out, as needed. Please please please do this or do that; the jobs were never difficult. Just arduous but well within his ability to perform. Marty had read on the net about some organization attempting to ban children from having to work, and he thought there was something in that. But Dad would never accept it. How was kid supposed to know how to do things if he didn't learn by doing them at home when he was a kid?!

Dad related a story about a childhood friend who, as an adult, was helping Dad move from a dingy basement suite to an apartment. The friend had asked how he could help, and Rainer told him, "Well, you could wash the floor."

The friend hadn't known where to start. "What do I do?" he'd asked. Marty didn't want to be like that friend, did he?

He rejected thoughts of going surfing. Though his board was propped against the wall of his bedroom in mute reminder, Marty had turned the saucy shark with the gaping teeth towards the wall; it bore too many painful memories just now. Surfing meant running into into Joel and Robbie and… Dary. If he ever saw Dary again, it would be too soon for him, and Dary better watch out for his pretty face, Marty thought savagely. Though he wasn't a fighter, Marty had used his fists a time or two, but only in self defense. Never had he actually gone after anybody. But yesterday's incident in that glade gave him the courage right now to try. So Dary better watch out.

He heard the phone ringing just as his bladder pained him, and he forced himself from the comfort of his bed and padded in bare feet, undies and yesterday's tee to the bathroom. He let his penis hang as he peed, carefully pulling his tee off, then shoved off his underwear; listening for the phone. It had stopped.

Good! He thought. Didn't wanna talk to you anyway! He had no intention of checking the answering device. Showering, he dried and padded naked to his bedroom and dressed in fresh clothes, tossing the old ones into the hamper and double checking his pack to make sure nothing was left in there which would mildew and stink. He discovered his short clothes; Dary's gift to him at Yule, and angrily shoved them back to the bottom again. They could probably use a wash, but Marty wasn't going to deal with them right now.

An hour later, even though no note had been left, he was mowing the lawn, the gas mower roaring and spewing grass as he traced a square in the backyard. He'd already mowed the front, and admitted he could grab the grass whipper and trim round the edges, but didn't feel up to it. Whenever yesterday intruded on his thoughts, he angrily shoved them aside, ignoring them, not wanting to think about it. He'd been betrayed in the worst possible way, and his trust in Dary and Dary's pals was now demolished. How could he have been so stupid?!

He spent the rest of the afternoon flying his computer flight simulator, putting some more hours on his pilot in one the virtual airlines. More hours in the VA meant higher rank, and higher simulated pay, but for Marty the satisfaction wasn't in those nebulous rewards but in how well he could approach an airport and land any of the various planes he flew. He was in the midst of another flight when he heard the Legend rumble overhead; Dad would be home in about twenty minutes. What the hell was he going to tell him?

***

He tried to be casual when Dad came through the door, and with relief Marty realized he needn't bother; Dad looked tired and totally wiped.

"Hi Dad," Marty greeted quietly. The last thing Dad wanted or needed at a time like this was a boisterous greeting.

"Hi son," Dad replied. Then he surprised Marty, holding out his arms. "Come give your Dad a hug."

"A… hug?!" Marty wondered, but went into the embrace and hugged Dad hard; gods knew he needed it. How had he known?

"Had a bad one today," Dad said into his hair, rubbing his cheek against Marty's head.

"Bad what?" Marty asked.

"Bad smash up on the South Forty Highway," Dad replied, still holding him hard. "Two cars, head on, like we haven't seen that before. I flew the paramedics out to it, and they asked me to land, pick up a patient who wouldn't make it if they had to wait for an ambulance or helicopter. So they blocked off part of the highway, I put down, picked the kid up; a boy no older than you. Got back into the air, flew him to Templeton, which is close to Normie Metro Hospital, but he was dead when we got there. Died in my plane. I damned near cried."

"Holy, no shit," Marty breathed. And he thought he had troubles. "Want a beer?"

"Please," Dad said, finally letting him go. "I'll just change."

"Can… can I have one too?" Marty ventured, greatly daring.

"You?" Dad asked, "why? You have a bad day too?" Marty just shrugged, hoping Dad would say, "Yea, okay. Crack one for both of us then. But only one!"

Marty was grateful.

***

Dad was gone again Friday morning, the second day of his four-day duty stint. He worked ten or twelve hours a day, depending on needs, banking extra hours for days off when he'd accumulated enough. Those were great, days off with pay, and Dad often splurged with him by going someplace nice and sometimes expensive. Marty was snuggled down in his bed when the banging started on the kitchen door. He was too cozy to get up, he didn't need to pee yet, but the hammering persisted and he finally gave in. Better not be Dary! He thought, going to answer it. He pulled a pair of shorts on before venturing to the kitchen, and pulled open the inside door. Robbie stood on the stoep, his bike with surfboard on a rack leaning against a patio post.

"Come on, come surfin'," Robbie invited. "Day's wonderful! Water's great! Joel's off someplace with his Mum and Dad and I got nobody to go with. Come with me?"

"Uhhhh… you got me outta bed," Marty said, feeling foolish.

"That, my friend, is obvious," Robbie smiled. "I'll wait while you get your shit together."

"Yea okay, come on in," Marty invited.

Robbie looked a moment, nodded and mounted the steps and Marty stood aside for him. "In case you're wondering," Robbie said, seating himself in a chair at the kitchen table without waiting to be asked, "Dary's agreed to give you some space for awhile. We figured it's best all around. Okay?"

Marty gave him a hard look, then nodded. "Yea, okay," he said shortly. "I'm gonna go dress, pack my stuff, get ready. Be back in a sec."

As he dressed and prepared, he wondered if Robbie's comment meant Dary wouldn't be at the beach today, though so far as Marty was concerned, Dary could do whatever he damned well liked, so long as it didn't involve him. When he returned to the kitchen, Rob still sat in his chair waiting patiently. He was a slender boy, with straight dark hair, dark eyes, and skin as smooth as Marty's. Like many New Cee boys, he too wore short shorts but he preferred more traditional tee shirts with them, and didn't often wear the 'high fashion' sleeveless tees such as Dary affected. He liked peaked caps worn backwards on his head, often colour coordinated with his tee shirt

"Um, I haven't had breakfast yet; dunno if there's enough for two but there might be," Marty hedged.

"You go on," Robbie told him. "I'll wait."

The silence was long between them as Marty fried a couple of eggs and some bacon, letting a pancake rise in another pan. The quiet bothered Marty, so more to make conversation than to elicit information, he remarked, "So, Joel said t'other day you guys know Dary pretty well?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Robbie shrug, a cautious look crossing his handsome face. "We've known him all through school, if that's what you mean," he replied.

"So he's had boyfriends before?" Marty asked; a question which had been in his mind since their sex together had started. Just where had Dary learned to do what he knew how to do?

"No comment," Rob said, and Marty flashed him a glance. For him, that was all the confirmation he needed, but with Rob's short answer, he knew better than to pursue it with him. Maybe Joel would tell him more.

Breakfast cooked, he carried it to the table, feeling self-conscious. "Sure you don't want some?" he asked, but Rob shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," he replied, and watched Marty eat. Marty set his dishes with water over them in the sink, then checked his pockets for money; he had a little less than seven dollars; maybe enough for a lunch if he were frugal. Finally, he carried his board to his bike and snapped it onto the rack. This was the first time he'd gone surfing without Dary, and a little pang rippled his stomach. Fuck 'im! he thought fiercely, and wheeled his bike to the drive.

The boys rode out onto the street and Rob turned right instead of Marty's usual left to Road Fifty-five. Without comment, he followed his new friend down the avenue, turning east again towards the beaches.

"I thought we'd try South Beach today, that okay with you? Water's about the same there, it's just further south than we normally go. It's less crowded too; not as easy to get to."

"Yea, okay, whatever," Marty replied, glad they weren't going anywhere they might encounter Dary.

"Come on, catch up! I wanna talk at you," Robbie motioned, and Marty stood on his pedals, pushing hard to come alongside Rob. "I need to tell you something," Rob said seriously, glancing at Marty every few seconds as they rode. "This is from all of us: Joel, Dary and me," he said.

Oh shit, Marty thought, but then another voice sternly admonished, Hear him out! Don't close your mind to any possibilities! It sounded strangely like his father.

"First of all," Robbie began, "you were right to be pissed off at Dary. We told him to make sure it was alright with you, and Joel and I thought it was when you rode with us. We'd no idea Dary hadn't told or asked you."

"Wouldn't have made any difference," Marty retorted. "Answer would've been the same."

"Fair enough," Robbie acknowledged. "But Dary is sorry about what happened, and about how it happened. Trust me, okay?"

Marty shrugged, not sure he cared what Dary was sorry or not sorry about; he should have known better than to even try it.

"'Nother thing," Robbie said, gliding to a stop at a stop sign, where they let a line of traffic go by. "Joel and I have a pact. Basically, it's nobody but each other. Total loyalty, so there's no way either of us would have tried anything with either you or your boyfriend. You have my word on that."

Traffic ended and they started off again. "He's not my boyfriend," Marty said.

"Marty, you're being unfair," Robbie said flatly, and Marty stared at him. "Dary fucked up once. He made one mistake and now you're dumping him? Dary wouldn't do that to you!"

"But it felt like you guys were ganging up on me! Like you had this all planned out and… "

"It wasn't like that," Rob said, gazing straight into Marty's eyes, his own dark eyes full of compassion. "Yea, we talked about it, yea, Dary thought you'd go along. Joel wasn't so sure and neither was I, so we both told him to to ask you before anything happened."

"He said he forgot…"

"Heh!" Robbie scoffed, "Do you really believe that? But Marty, no way did we ever plan to gang up on you. I swear!"

Marty shut up. Did he believe Robbie? The other boy had a sincerity in his voice which he hadn't heard from Dary. His face was earnest, and he had looked him up this morning so they could have this talk. Had Dary sent him with this message? Possibly, Marty admitted, but he somehow doubted it. The surfing might be nice. And, Marty remembered, Rob had a nice body naked too.

He was suddenly ashamed, and he couldn't help it, but tears welled up and he had to turn his head from Robbie to avoid being embarrassed. Several things assailed him all at once, the truth of Robbie's words, his summation of the situation, his understanding of Marty's feelings. Even if Dary hadn't understood the seriousness of his offence, Robbie certainly grasped the magnitude of it. And his realization that Dary wouldn't drop him over an oversight like the one he had made. Maybe he'd sent Robbie to make sure Marty wasn't going to dump him. Marty just couldn't be sure, but he couldn't very well ask Robbie.

But his words, those words he'd spoken in anger and the heat of the moment: how much would they matter? Would Dary ever let him take them back? They couldn't be taken back, he realized; his Dad had told him, once said, never forgotten.

"Marty, Dary's still your boyfriend, alright?" Robbie said. "Maybe you two still need to work some things out between you, but he still loves you, no matter what happened on Wednesday."

"I… I tried, that day!" Marty choked, trying to suppress his tears. "I asked him… what being boyfriends meant to him, and he… he… couldn't tell me! Just told me some shit about being first for each other, but he never said he loved me! He never said anything about loyalty or respecting privacy or nuthin' like that!"

"Marty, it's supposed to be understood," Robbie said gently. They'd wheeled, without Marty noticing, into a small pocket park, just a grassy space with a few trees and a bench or two. They were sitting on a bench, their bikes abandoned on the grass at their feet. "Hey, me and Joel had to figure it out ourselves, man. But for us, the important thing is having the sex only with each other, and looking out for each other. And for us, it works. Didn't… didn't you know that when he asked you?"

"I dunno what I knew," Marty said, wiping his eyes with his arm. "He… he caught me with a boner on and he was doin' things to me when he said he wanted to be boyfriends with me. I… I guess I just dint unnerstand what he meant. I've never had a boyfriend before," he confessed. "I dunno what I'm supposed to do!"

"Okaaaaaay… so he caught you in a weak moment," Robbie observed.

Marty nodded, now feeling even more miserable. "I should never have agreed," he began but Robbie shushed him.

"Nonsense!" he snorted. "It sounded good at the time, and you went for it. So, now? What do you want?"

"Want?" Marty asked, gazing at Robbie.

"Do you want to be just friends with Dary? Or do you like what you guys were doing?"

"I… like it," Marty responded, "but I'm so scared! If my dad finds out, I'm dead! But…" he hesitated, then took the plunge. "Everybody but him seems to know! Dary's Mom! You and Joel, who else?! This is so scary! I've never… never been so scared in my life! And then… when you and Joel told me, and we went to that meadow… I was so mad! I… I guess I was telling you all off!"

Robbie smiled. "Don't let it bother you," he said. "The way things worked out, we had it comin'. But we're concerned about you. And that's because we care about you, Marty. You're a cool dude, we all like you. Okay? Joel and I want you and Dary to be happy with each other."

"Why? What's it to you guys?!"

"Because you have been," Robbie replied, and Marty suddenly realized, Robbie was right. "Come on," Rob coaxed, "let's go surfing."

***

Saturday dawned cool, drizzly, low skies, wet streets and grass. For the first time this summer, Marty pulled on jeans, tee and a fleece sweatshirt to keep warm, cooking a hearty breakfast from the fridge. Dad always had pancake mix made up and this morning Marty treated himself to two. Part way through, the phone rang. Marty debated picking it up, and though his antipathy towards Dary was somewhat diminished, he still wasn't sure he was ready to talk to him. But then again, he could always put the phone down if it were Dary at the other end.

"Hullo," he said, cautiously.

"Marty?" And he breathed a sigh of relief. Mairie.

"Hello, Auntie," he said.

"Marty, the boys have gone and deserted me, love, and I've a craft sale today down by the market! I wonder if you'd help fill in for them?"

"Uh, where's the boys?" he asked, nearly afraid of the answer.

"Oh, Alphonse took Dary to the docks with him this morning. I think they've gone fishing with one of Alphonse's mates; they'll be gone all day."

"And left you in the lurch," Marty said knowingly.

"Well, they did load the car for me yesterday, but there's still unloading, unpacking ... I'll make it worth your while, love."

"Sure, okay," Marty said in a sudden burst of generosity.

"Splendid! I'll come and pick you up in half an hour."

Mairie was late, not wholly unexpected, but when her Land Rover SUV pulled up in the driveway, Marty grabbed his thick hoodie and went out to meet her. She gave him a wide smile as he climbed in, buckled up and grinned at her. She was as flamboyant as ever, and Marty wondered what crafts she'd be selling at the market.

"Oh, I'm a broker," Mairie said. "I take on other quality crafts for people and sell them on their behalf, and take a small percentage of each sale. It works well for all of us; a lot of crafts people aren't good salespeople, which I'm good at, so there you are!" Another wide smile, and Marty couldn't help feeling his mood lighten. Knowing an encounter with Dary was put off for another day helped too.

But it was work. Lugging boxes from the SUV, up five wide steps of a community center, down a large hallway sixty yards, then another thirty yards to Mairie's tables, with a dozen large cartons soon tired him out. Fortunately she had wheeled dolly upon which he could stack the largest of her boxes, it would have been much more difficult had he had to carry them. The hoodie came off first, then the sweatshirt and Marty was working in bare arms, delving into boxes and carefully laying out all manner of different crafts on Mairie's six tables. Already bargain hunters were perusing the tables, some asking pointed questions of Marty, which he didn't know how to answer, so he just pointed them in Mairie's direction. One poker faced woman glared at him for not knowing, and Marty simply said, "I'm just the stockboy. I don't know anything about the crafts." She grimaced and stumped down the line to speak with Mairie.

Along about lunch time, Mairie sent him back out to the SUV for the big blue cooler he remembered from the surfing flight a few days ago. It rumbled on its plastic wheels obediently behind him as he pulled it into the large auditorium and down to their tables, where Mairie directed him to the end of the room with instructions to secure them a lunch table. He opened the cooler and spread some of the plastic containers, cracking a few open to investigate their contents.

"So what's happened between you and Dary?" Mairie asked point-blank after they had dished up platefuls from the spread.

"Happened?" Marty affected an innocent look, though he sensed he wasn't fooling her for one moment.

"There hasn't been a day gone by since school when you two haven't been off gallivanting together," Mairie said firmly. "Then today, rather than Alphonse having to drag him by the scruff of his neck to go fishing with him this morning, Daryl was more than willing to arise at five am and go with his Dad. Most unusual behaviour, don't you think?"

So, Dary was making no secret of their rift, unlike Marty was doing with his Dad by attempting to conceal it. Though yesterday's outing with Rob had convinced Dad Marty was actually trying to make more friends, just as Dad wanted.

Marty shrugged, scooping up a forkful of Mairie's delicious cold fish collation. "Maybe the weather had something to do with it," he suggested. "We usually surf, but today would be pretty miserable, even in a wettie."

"Dary's been out in worse than this," Mairie assured him. "So long as he can get there, he'll go. No, something's happened. Maybe I don't need to know what it was, but perhaps I can help."

"I… dunno how…" Marty began, but Mairie smiled knowingly and patted his hand. The gesture might have seemed condescending, but Mairie's style and panache robbed it of any such feeling.

"If I know my son," she said, "he's gone and done or said something which was careless and perhaps even unwise. Would that be close?" Cautiously, Marty nodded. "Lest I be accused of making excuses for him, let me tell you right now, I'm not! I'm well aware how he can push people around, expecting them to fall in with his schemes and shenanigans, usually against their better judgment. Another thing about Daryl is his failure to express himself properly. He sometimes says things, but fails to explain himself adequately, so Marty, it's always wise to make sure you get a clear understanding from him just what he means. It saves further grief, believe me."

Marty nodded again, with feeling. Exactly what had led to the trouble Wednesday: misunderstanding, assumption, and if truth be told, jumping to conclusions. Boy, did they ever have a lot to learn, Marty realized. Why was growing up so damned hard?

"You're having trouble adapting. You and your father," Mairie stated, abruptly switching subjects. Marty shrugged, but again, he knew she spoke true. "I know your father has very difficult time with the New Cee… lifestyle, for want of a better phrase. Our freedoms and acceptance of what your people consider the unconventional, or even downright rude!

"You, on the other hand, seem to be adapting rather well," Mairie added with a wink, and Marty knew, she knew. She knew about him and Dary. Just how she knew, or how much she knew would probably be left to speculation. But no doubt she had picked up those not-so-invisible signals two boys give off when they were… what? Intimate? Sexually engaged? Boyfriends? Did Mairie know how far he and her son had committed themselves? Would he ever know?

He sighed, he may as well accept that Mairie was in the know; and he suspected she hadn't asked him along today just so she could work him at her craft sale. Like Robbie yesterday, she'd asked him along for heart-to-heart chat.

"I'm… I dunno, it's maybe easier for me, but… I'm scared of my Dad finding out," he admitted, and with that, he knew he'd admitted far more to her than he'd ever intended. "What he'll do to me; what he'll say. How… how he'll treat me. I'm scared, Auntie Mairie! So scared!" And he could feel the tears pushing against the backs of his eyes again. Dammit, he wished he could stop doing that!

"The best thing, Marty, is to get it out into the open," Mairie said. "Then, you don't live with the fear all the time."

"What, come out!? To my Dad?!" Marty was shocked, and now terrified.

"It's the only way, love," Mairie said taking his hands into both of hers and looking at him earnestly. "Then that way, you're free to be who you want to be. No more constraints. No more hiding. No more fear. Wouldn't you like to live without being afraid?"

"Well, yeah!" Marty exclaimed. "But I don't see any way my Dad'll ever buy it!"

"That," Mairie said, "is where we come in. We do have that barbecue planned in a few days."

"Oh no!" Marty gasped. "No! No way!" He felt panicked, backed into a corner with no way out. Damn her for doing this to him!

"Honey," Mairie insisted, "we need to. For the sake of your sanity, and for ours. It's either that, dear, or Dary's going to need to find a new mate."

***

If Marty had been frightened of… well, the world knowing about him and Dary… after his day with Mairie, he was downright terrified. Which opened the question in his mind that, even if he and Dary were messing around sexually, was he really gay? And for that, he had absolutely no help whatsoever. Perhaps if, in the increasingly likely possibility he and Dary made up again, they might be able to explore that and come up with an answer.

And too, he realized, now he was faced with the prospect of losing Dary, having his friend taken away from him, the less he wanted that to happen. If anyone were to decide his friendship with Daryl, shouldn't it be him?

The internet was to him what encyclopedias had been to his father at his age. Though Dad often maintained, because encyclopedias, for the most part, were written by authoritative authors and often peer reviewed for accuracy, a lot of information on the web was highly suspect. Dad didn't trust it much at all, and Marty's teachers at school were always cautioning their students to be wary of what they read there. But Marty figured, for his purposes, the 'net would do.

So he went to the web for answers, and read about same-sex attractions in their various manifestations, and most of it seemed to pertain to healthy, sexually active adults. Another phrase popped into his head he'd heard once, 'gay youth,' so he typed that into his searches, making sure his browser was set to private windows so as to leave no trace for his Dad to follow. Ahhh… this was much more productive, much better suited to his purposes. Page after page of links, and he read avidly.

By the end of his research, Marty felt he had a much better understanding of himself. Yes, he was attracted to Dary and other guys, but that didn't necessarily mean at this point he was one hundred percent gay; lots of kids experimented around for a few years, and eventually wound up married with kids. So, just because right now he was playing with guys, that didn't mean he was solely committed to them. Which of course made him feel much better, but it might not wholly convince his father. He was, after all, only thirteen years old; much too early in some authors' views to be thinking, "I'm gay." Maybe Dad would believe him.

Somehow, he had to convey all this to Auntie Mairie before their planned barbecue in just a few days; before she totally ruined his life with his Dad with a hasty assertion that Dary and Marty were more than friends.

Assuming, of course, he actually wanted to get back with Dary.

***

Dary turned up Sunday morning, fortunately at a decent hour. Marty was out of bed, dressed and lingering over a late breakfast when a knock sounded at the back door, and Dary's voice called, "Marty, please open up!" A stab of fear and resentment coursed into Marty's gut, and he debated ignoring the summons, or giving in and getting the whole thing over with. Just how he was going to get it over with was still an open question. He hadn't yet decided on a continued relationship with him, though last night, he had very privately admitted to himself that he missed Dary. Terribly.

Another knock, and "Marty??? Please?! I'm sorry about Wednesday! Honest!"

Christ, now he's telling the whole neighbourhood! Marty sighed and pushed himself from the table. Going to the door, he opened the inside door and looked out at Dary through the glass of the storm door.

"Marty? Can we talk? Please?" Dary's face was anxious, hopeful, serious and alarmed all at the same time; a very different boy from the one Marty had last seen a few days ago through a red rage. And today he wore what his father considered 'respectable clothes', a long tee with short sleeves at his biceps, and a pair of long cargo shorts and sneakers with ankle socks. He could have borrowed the outfit from Marty's wardrobe. Those brilliant blue eyes stared up at him, troubled, mirroring his face.

Marty slowly pushed the door open and stepped down onto the stoep. He jerked his head at the patio set to their right under the canopy, and took a seat.

"Siddown," he said and when Dary sat nervously, he added, "so talk."

"I… I apologize," Dary said simply. "It was wrong, Rob and Joel told me to ask you first, and I didn't. And I'm sorry. Please, Marty, believe me."

Marty searched the words, the inflection in which they were delivered, and could find no falsity in them. But he was still bothered by Dary's seeming failure to understand his feelings in this thing; it seemed to Marty as if Dary were only here to to make up with him. Perhaps patch it and move on, such as with that prank with his cross and those bits of coral last week. But Marty wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

"We need to get some things straight, you and I," Marty said finally, knowing he had this kid over a barrel for the first time since they'd made their pact.

"Anything!" Dary said.

"Okay, first off, Rob told me he and Joel have a pact between them. Basically, it's only them: only Joel for Rob, and Rob for Joel. Nobody else. I think we need the same thing."

"Marty, that's what boyfriends is!" Dary insisted.

"Say it," Marty said. "Tell me how much you love me, and how I'm ever gonna be the only one you mess with unless we break up."

Startled, Dary shifted his glance some, darting his eyes about, and Marty waited patiently. It was a cop's trick Dad had taught him, used on Marty a time or two. He remained silent, gazing at Dary's discomfiture, which seemed to confirm something for him. Dary's heart didn't really appear to be in this. Dary's arms rested on his thighs, hairs sparse at his wrists, thickening in length and texture along his forearms and over his elbows to nearly a centimetre long, to where the arm disappeared under Dary's sleeve. Marty's eyes flicked to them, then back to Dary's face, still awaiting an answer.

"You don't get it, do you?" Dary asked, exasperation in his voice. "Like I said, that's what boyfriends means! I thought you knew that."

"I do now," Marty said, "but Rob had to explain it to me. He had to tell me, because you see, Dary, I've never had a boyfriend before. So, no, I didn't understand when you asked me, and I've been kinda in the dark about it until this week, when somebody finally explained it to me. Which should have been you! Because you're the one who asked. I would have appreciated you making it clear at the beginning. So now, I need to hear your promise, Dary. Promise to me that we're only for each other, and tell me how much you love me. Promise me you'll respect me and my feelings, so something like Wednesday never happens again. Please." Marty almost regretted the 'please' the moment he said it, thinking it might weaken his position and Dary would see it as desperation on his part. And still he waited.

Dary sighed, dropped his eyes to his knees, then looked back up at Marty, and said the words Marty had been hoping to hear. "I promise I love you. I promise I am only for you, and you are only for me. I promise to respect you and and your feelings. Please let me love you."

"And I the same," Marty said simply. They came together beside the patio table, arms round each other, hungrily kissing, hands unable to control themselves, and it was inevitable they ended up naked on Marty's bed.

Chapter Eight
Barracuda Strikes

"Police Air One, on final, runway oh eight, Timpte Airport," Rainer said crisply into his microphone as he veered the Legend airplane gracefully into an easterly arc and straightened out. The four Vasi lights to the left of the runway all gleamed red at him; he was a tad low to make the threshold, so he touched the throttle until they flashed two red left and two white right, and settled the plane on a downward angle. The screen told him five hundred feet per minute descent, and the GPS told him he was three miles from the runway threshold. Not bad, he thought with a slight smile as the aircraft descended and he let the plane glide down towards the runway. Over the threshold, he lifted the nose into a flare, reduced power and let the plane sink to the pavement, dead between the landing squares as his tires touched. He let the plane run to the taxiway, gently applying brakes, and as he turned onto the secondary road, he reported for the benefit of other pilots, and Normanton Center Air Traffic Control, "Police Air One down and clear of runway oh eight," and snapped the Comm radio off. On the police radio he announced his arrival, hoping Prison Services had sent their pickup van on time for once.

"We're here, where do you want us to meet you?" someone responded. Rainer told them to come to the main tarmac where they'd effect the transfer. His cargo, a glowering beefy but inarticulate man probably guilty of a host of sins over his lifetime, but this time wanted for a series of daylight jewellery store robberies, was being returned from a hide in the North Country to Normanton for his court dates. He'd already missed three of them because RNCNP hadn't a clue where to find him. But an aging local constable had stumbled across him a few days ago after his weekly reading of police Bulletins, and wisely reported him instead of attempting to apprehend him alone. Rainer had flown another constable to the village, and between the three of them, managed to effect an arrest. Rainer reflected it was a rare bit of police work since he'd begun flying for this outfit. He'd have to remember to get his handcuffs back when they turned the suspect over to the prison authorities

The tan PS van trundled onto the tarmac; strictly illegally because any vehicle on an airport tarmac was supposed to have a flashing amber light showing, but who was going to write up a government vehicle? Some rules had to be bent a trifle so life could go on. They bundled the prisoner out of the airplane, onto the tarmac and into the van, and Rainer remembered his handcuffs.

"Hey, can I get my cuffs back, please?" he asked.

"Oh, aye, sorry," one of the guards said and turned back to the prisoner. "Turn round then," he instructed, and the prisoner just glared at him.

"He wants 'em, he come get 'em," the man grunted.

"Doesn't work that way, mate," the guard informed him. "Now you be good and turn round so's we can…" He got no further as a foot suddenly came up, and the prisoner kicked the guard in the face. The guard screamed, hands clutching his jaw, turning away and almost sobbing.

"Jesus H Christ!" the second guard swore, "didn't you clowns shackle him?!"

"Did so!" Rainer barked, reaching for his baton, flicking it out to its locked three feet, "he's broken that damned dog leash chain! Here you! Back in there!" he ordered, thrusting the Asp towards the man's torso. "If you've not messed with one of these, fella, you don't want to … now back up!" The prisoner glowered at him, eyes flicking from the tip of the evil-looking metal rod hovering about his midsection, back to Rainer's face, then shifting back and forth, calculating his chances. Rainer pulled his mace can from his duty belt and held it up so it was in plain sight.

"You won't get far," Rainer told him. "You're handcuffed, this compound is fenced, and there's five us to catch you again. Back into the van, buddy, down on your front, spread the legs. NOW!" It was a tense moment, and eventually the prisoner gave it up, and did as instructed. Rainer breathed a sigh of relief, and looked to the guard who'd been kicked. He looked bad, he'd probably be claiming a lengthy sick leave for his shattered jaw. Beside him, someone was already radioing for an ambulance.

"Careful Rain," his police partner said, and Rainer glanced at him, to see the man's pistol pointing at the prisoner. "I'll cover you while you switch your cuffs."

"I'm not goin' in there," Rainer snorted. "It's their van," and he nodded at the prison services guards, "they can get them and bring them out to me. Put the gun away," he added. "You'd shoot a prisoner in handcuffs, on his belly?" The younger constable, looking sheepish, holstered his weapon and pulled his mace cannister.

"If you'll help me with him," the second guard suggested, "then we can get it done. Rules don't allow one guard with a guy like him."

"Done, then," Rainer replied, and they did. They applied another set of leg shackles for good measure, making sure the chain was intact. The first one must have weakened, and the prisoner had enough time to worry it free during the three-hour flight.

Christ, now an after action report, Rainer thought disgustedly as he tanked the Legend for the next flight. Rules dictated the plane be fuelled in case of an emergency call out. He topped off the tanks, and went for his Electro Tug to push the plane into the hangar. This electric tug was sure a far cry from that old gas beater they'd used when they first got here. It gave off a high pitched whine as it worked, but it had plenty of power and handled the Legend with ease. Rainer had no doubt it'd tug the Cessna too.

He sensed, rather than saw, another presence beside him, and glanced up to see Barracuda regarding him seriously. With a jolt, he felt a little guilty about using this brand new tug, about which she didn't seem to know anything, but then dismissed the feeling. It had been in the hangar when he'd leased the building; the airport couldn't very well lay hands on it now.

"Ere, I heard something you might be interested in when yer two boys was over here that day," she said. "Pullin' that seat outta your Cessna."

"Oh?" Rainer asked, backing the Legend carefully into the hanger, watching the wings to make sure they didn't contact anything, particularly the Cessna sitting to the Legend's right. He guided the plane in, the woman sensibly keeping quiet until he'd finished. Satisfied, he unhooked the tug and pulled it away. "And what was that?" he queried, looking at her.

She was the most unfeminine looking woman he'd ever laid eyes on, though that was going some given some of the women he'd seen in aviation. Untidy hair stuffed up under a greasy cap with its peak pushed back, her men's plaid work shirt under a pair of denim bib overalls, incongruous pink sneakers, a small cigar glowing from her mouth and pack of them stuck in the front bib pocket of her overalls. She looked to be in her late forties, maybe even middle-aged but her slim build and indeterminate hair colour made it difficult to pin her down.

"Among the uncomplimentary remarks about me," she began, "I heard one of them joking about 'coming,' and laughing about it, while the other one told him to hush, that they didn't have time for sex just then…"

"Which one? Who? My kid?!"

"Aren't they both yours?" she countered.

"No, only the one, the brown haired, brown-eyed boy, Marty. The other is a pal of his from school."

"Oh well, I dunno," she said, "I couldn't tell the voices apart, they sound so similar. All I know is what I heard. And by the way, my name's Margaret! Margaret Evans, if you please, but most people call me Maggie. I don't know where that other name for me sprang from!"

"I'm sorry," Rainer said, head spinning about her revelations about Marty and Daryl, "I think that was the kids, but I don't recall, to be honest. I'll inform them they're not to use it again."

"Oh, I quite liked it, actually!" Margaret said with an ironic grin, "it'll keep them at their distance. Toodle-oo!"

Toodle-oo?! Rainer closed up the hangar and secured it. Such a strange utterance from someone who worked around aviators all day. Working pilots could be a pretty rough bunch, with ribald humour and political correctness be damned. He had a feeling Maggie held her own with them and even bested some of them. He unlocked his Bronco, tossed his duty bag onto the passenger seat and climbed in. He caught a wave from the corner of his eye from the airport office window as he drove by and automatically waved back. Barra… Maggie, waving him good-bye? It was almost a bit much.

He felt a little guilty driving the Bronco from home to the airport; it was only a ten-minute trip. He should get a bike like Marty's and be a little more proactive with his fitness. He'd have his compulsory medical and Fit Test in a few months, biking would help him pass them. He was also supposed to spend a few hours a week in one of the police gyms which were scattered around town, but somehow, he'd never found the time. Never made the time, he grimaced as he turned in to his driveway. He noticed the boys' bikes in the backyard as he approached the kitchen door; Marty's and that Daryl's. Neither had surfboards attached. What had they done all day? He pulled the door open and went inside.

***

"I missed this," Dary said, tugging his t-shirt up his torso and then over his head, pulling his arms from the sleeves. Beside him, Marty copied him, his penis raging beneath his shorts and briefs as he was sure Dary's was too. They could hardly wait to get naked, and their clothes were soon an intermingled heap on the floor as Marty collapsed on the bed on his back, Dary snaking on top of him, already rubbing. Mouths met, tongues lashed, moans issued, cocks surged and met, rubbed against each other, slipped off to rub against sprouting pubes and pubic vees. The first ejaculation was fast coming, frottage induced, one of their favourite methods because it involved so much body contact. Naked body contact; the best kind.

Marty had learned since that first night with Dary, and secreted a box of tissues under his bed. As they wiped up, their eyes met, and Dary snorted, giggling for no reason, Marty laughing too.

"Bjs," Marty said, and Dary grinned, then turned opposite, seeking Marty's cock with his mouth, finding it, closing lips over the tip and began lashing. He remembered his first taste, sharp, tangy, wanting that from the first time he'd seen it in the school change room. Wishing Marty had wanted his too. He felt Marty's tongue and lips on his own, soft and gentle and he pushed his hips, forcing himself deeper into Marty's mouth, rewarded with the wetness along his entire length. They began tonguing each other, lips compressed firmly, heads bobbing as they sought once again those pulsing orgasms which brought so much solace. Try getting a girl to do this! Out of the freakin' question, Dary concluded.

Dary squirted into Marty's mouth again, this time Marty was a little more ready for it, a little more attuned to his friend's reactions. The slight tensing of his friend's body, which increased as Dary sought to hold back but could not against his ministrations then suddenly erupting and squirting against the top of his mouth. He swallowed, again relieved with his research, knowing all was okay. He kept sucking, lashing until Dary pulled himself away, still not able to handle the after play because of his over sensitive corona. Marty felt himself go, pulsing, pulsating nearly clear seminal fluid into Dary's mouth, who kept up his tonguing, lashing until Marty too had to withdraw. They lay panting, faces inches from each others middles, their scents strong in their nostrils, intoxicating. Finally, Dary moved, sitting on the edge of the bed, then pivoted on his bum to lay face to face beside Marty.

"Fuck, we're bad," he remarked. "But I love it." And he grinned.

"Hah, me too," Marty replied, flinging an arm round Dary's shoulders.

They shared stories then, for the moment sated, just content to lay there together without rancour or blame. As if the past few days had never happened, they'd not been estranged, hadn't needed others to bring them together again.

Dary told of longing for Marty, surprising his friend, having seen him the first day Marty had shown up at his school in his brand new uniform. Scared, looking uncertain, but trying to put a brave face on it. His nervousness and awkwardness in the changing room, stripping down and dressing again in gym strip, satisfyingly seeing Marty's nudity, noting how smooth his skin was in comparison to himself. The surprise at his circumcision, of which it was impolite to ask, wondering who and why anyone would do that to someone. Marty told him to read the Net, he'd find out more than he ever wanted to know about the subject.

Marty for his part confessing his day dream the day they'd gotten together the first time; the laps round the field, when Marty had put Dary to the ground in a play wrestle.

"I let you win," Dary said, and Marty guffawed.

"Yea right," he scoffed.

"Okay, let's go out back. Do it again. Right now! See who wins?"

"Now? As in, right now?!" Marty gaped.

"Yea, right now. Come on, I dare ya!" And that did it. You couldn't deny a dare.

Wrestling naked in the back yard, surrounded by their privacy hedge, and the battle was epic. Try as he might, Dary eluded most of Marty's tricks and stratagems, trying not a few himself, and they eventually ended in a draw, arms reddened where hands had gripped and grappled, and other parts too. Calves where feet had sought to trip, and had slid off. Panting, they held onto each others' arms, finally agreeing to the draw.

"Heh," Marty confessed, as they slumped in lawn chairs beside the patio table, "maybe you did let me win." He cocked an ear, then jumped up, "Holy shit, get back inside and get dressed! My Dad's comin' down the road!" And they raced for the back door.

As they disentangled their clothes and haphazardly pulled them on, Dary asked, "Doesn't he usually fly over and give you a warning?"

"Usually," Marty said. "Maybe today he came from another direction. If the wind's easterly, then he'd've flown in from the west. I never noticed."

"It is," Dary replied, buttoning and zipping his cargo shorts. "I had to ride against it coming here."

"That explains it then." Marty went to his computer and tapped the screen, starting his flight sim program. "If Dad happens to ask what we were doing… " he winked.

"Just hope he didn't see our bums going through the door," Dary giggled.

Then they heard Dad, "Boys…! Can you come out here a minute please?"

"Uh oh," Marty made an 'O' of his mouth, "this can't be good."

***

The entered the kitchen, where Rainer sat in one of the kitchen chairs and motioned the boys to the wrap-around bench opposite. Marty slid in, scrunching over to make room for Dary.

"I had an interesting discussion with the Barracuda today," he announced. "Who, incidentally, is named Margaret, or Maggie, as she's known around the airport," Rainer began, and pulled a scrap of paper from a pocket. "She said when you two were in the airplane pulling the seat, she heard one of you say something about 'coming,' and the other told him to 'hush, we don't have time for sex.' " He stopped, looking up at the boys. "Care to explain that?"

The boys were silent for a moment, Marty nearly sure he was about to blush in guilt and embarrassment, then Dary snorted beside him, giggling, then laughing. "Yea, I was pulling a bolt out with the wrench, the other one was stuck, so Marty sprayed it and said to wait, it'd come out in a minute or two. So I like, laughed and said something about it coming."

"So you, then," Rainer said, looking directly at Marty, "said the thing about the sex?"

"What I meant was," Marty gulped, "we were there, like, to get seats out and not go hunting for girls! Like, at the beach, like we usually see them."

"You're having sex with girls?" Rainer gasped, askance, and both boys burst out laughing.

"We wish! Dary giggled. "No way, Uncle Rainer."

"Not that any girls would!" Marty added. "They don't go for skinny twerps like us!"

"No, they want the huuunnnkkks!!" Dary added, with what he hoped was just enough levity to get them out of this.

Rainer suspected he was being royally conned, but in the absence of any evidence aside from what Maggie had told him, decided to give it in. "Alright," he conceded. "I'm not sure I buy this silly explanation, but I haven't the will to pursue it further. You guys just be careful of your ribald humour round her, not that she's likely heard it all before. But from kids your age…"

"We promise," Dary said, sounding contrite, and Marty noticed how he could turn that on and off at need. He wondered how long it would take Dad to catch on to him.

"Yea, sorry Dad," Marty added. "Are you on days off now?" he asked hopefully.

"Starting tomorrow, yea," Rainer said. "With your permission, I'll go and change. Barbecue tonight, Marty, I think. We have those pork shoulder steaks and they're always good. And yes, Dary, if you phone your Mum you may stay to dinner."

"Thanks!" Dary grinned, going to the phone

***

"Dary, this is serious," Marty said confidentially. "You gotta help me! Your Mum's threatening to out me to my Dad!"

"Out you?! Like, how?" Dary looked bewildered. Marty explained his lunch with Mairie yesterday. They were sitting in the old barn, a small affair built and painted like the red and white barns commonly found across America, with four horse boxes down a central alleyway. There was also a wide open loft upstairs where grass hay and straw might be stored, had the barn housed any animals. Right now it was only used to store boxes of unneeded household items.

"And she said the only way to live not scared to was to come out to my Dad," Marty concluded. "Dary… you know I can't do that!"

"Noooooo…" Dary's face went grave. "That'd be explosive, that would," he said, looking concerned.

"She's threatening, well, saying, like, at that barbecue we're supposed to have at your place. Man, Dary, I'm scared! No, not scared, terrified! You know how he is about sex… if he found out about you and me…" Marty didn't need to finish, Dary was nodding vehemently. Wouldn't just be Marty in the cauldron; he'd be right there with him.

"We gotta get to her," Dary said decisively. "Before the barbecue. Maybe get Dad in on this, she might not listen to us, but if I can get Dad on our side, we'll have a lot better chance."

"I'm scared she's gonna phone Dad about it," Marty confessed, now literally wringing his hands. "I've been expecting it any day now. Leaving me high and dry with Dad, all alone to face him as he … I dunno, beats me senseless? Disowns me? What? I'm so scared."

Dary shook his head. "No, she won't do that," he said reassuringly. "Not for something this important. She'll wait until we're face to face, that much I do know. And, she won't go behind your back, that's another thing. She'll either do it in front of you, or tell you beforehand. I know she talked to you about me yesterday too, didn't she?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I'm not surprised," he added, "she said she was going to. I didn't try to stop her."

"Well, yea, she did," Marty admitted. "I didn't know what to say."

"Best say nuttin'," Dary said with a wry smile. "Look, I'll talk to Dad soon's I can, promise! Let him know how desperate this is; I know you're scared but relax, nothin's gonna happen for a day or two. Mum won't phone your Dad except to ask you guys over, okay? Don't panic if she calls. It'll be all okay."

"Gods, I sure hope so," Marty said fervently.

***

Their summons to the Werlands came two days later. Marty had a terrible few moments when the phone rang and Dad answered and said, "Oh Mairie! Hello, how are you?" He wanted to sink through his bench at the breakfast table, through the floor and crawl away under the joists supporting the floor. "This evening? That'll be just fine. What'll we bring? Yes, yes, I can manage that. Sure you don't want me to bring more? Okay… Marty? Oh I'm sure he'll want to come. Oh, now? Yes, he's here, just a moment… " and he held the phone out. "Dary wants to talk to you."

"Hullo…" Dary just wanted to arrange a pickup to go surfing. Marty didn't have chance to ask him about the Other.

"Going surfing?" Dad asked and Marty nodded enthusiastically. "You know, I just might tag along, that alright with you?" Dad asked. How could he say 'no'?

Dary showed up with Robbie, both boys with their boards racked to their bikes, and all four of them loaded everything including a McKinley-provided cooler of lunch and pop, into the Bronco and set off down Ocean Parade, that long double-wide avenue leading directly to Channel Beach. Marty remembered surfing South Beach with Robbie a few days ago, but glad they weren't going there today; lugging a cooler and surfboards along that rugged trail would be no picnic.

"Hey," Rob greeted, sitting beside Marty in the backseat. Marty had surrendered the front to Dary this trip. Their bare arms rubbed, and Marty caught a thrill from contacting Rob's skin. He had a nice clean scent too, he noticed, to go with his handsome dark looks. Today's t-shirt and cap were a dark green again, a shade Marty particularly liked on him. The great thing about New Cumbria is he'd soon see Rob naked again; it was perfectly natural for the boys to change clothes on the beach. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd see Joel too. "Everything go okay with Dary?" Rob asked.

"Yea, fine," Marty reported with a smile. "Thanks. Just… thanks, Rob. Thanks for ever'thing."

"You got it, what friends are for?" Robbie smiled back at him, and they bumped fists, sealing the bargain.

"Joel meeting us?" Marty asked, but Rob shook his head.

"They're off down South camping in the woods. They've got a nice caravan so they hit the road for a coupla weeks every summer, go different places. I been with them some weekends, but they don't take guests on their annual hols."

"So, um…" and Marty glanced surreptitiously at the back of his dad's head, and asked in a low voice, "Do they know, like, about you and Joel?"

Rob nodded. "Oh yea, and so do my parents; it's no secret."

Marty slumped in his seat, disheartened. Why did he have to be stuck with an uptight, moralistic father? Who, if he knew he were surrounded by a bunch of gay boys, would… Would what? What would he really do? Marty was pretty sure at this point he didn't want to find out. Of course various scenarios played themselves out in his imagination, none of them good. Despite Rainer wanting him to have more friends here than just Dary, Marty would have no friends at all. All the more reason, Marty fervently prayed, that Alphonse had agreed to intercede for him with Mairie, and keep the thunderous explosion from occurring. But he couldn't help the anxious knot in his belly, the fear which gripped him, and he knew they would prevent him from having a good time today.

They arrived at the beach, parked in the large lot, and after unloading, finally made their way to a vacant spot midway between the water and the boardwalk. The beach was only about a third occupied this time of the morning, mostly with tourists as today was a New Cee business day, so most of the locals were kids or mothers and offspring.

"Remember, change slow," Dary whispered, leaning close to Marty's ear. "Rob likes you," he added with a grin, and when Marty stared at him, Dary flashed a grin. "Hey, it's okay to look," he said. "Just don't touch."

Yea, okay, Marty thought, I like that! He threw a glance in his Dad's direction, but he'd gone back to the Bronco for something. Probably changing up there, he thought again.

The boys all glanced at each other, and Rob said, "Pants first, okay? Marty, you up for this?"

Marty nodded, pulled his shorts open, and thrust them and his briefs with them, letting himself dangle free, felt Rob's and Dary's eyes on it, but his own were on Robbie. Who was average size for a thirteen-year-old, and his stuck out from his middle before dropping down in a nice arc. Yum, Marty thought, but he knew Rob was out of bounds to him, and was content with it. Dary was promised to him, and he to Dary; they'd finally sworn it to each other, and Marty felt much better because of it. Now everybody understood each other, it was actually much easier between them. He felt Joel was probably part of this pact too; but it would be a couple of weeks before he could put it to the test.

They were ready for the water a few moments later, day clothes stuffed into their packs, packs laid alongside the cooler. Rainer wasn't back yet from the parking lot.

"Should we wait for him?" Dary asked, eyes flicking to the ocean a few yards away.

"Nah, he's a big guy, he can look after himself," Marty replied. "C 'mon, let's go!" And so saying, picked up his Shark Attack and made for the water. As he was sealing the velcro of his board leash to his ankle, Dary informed him, "We talked to Mum last night."

"Yea, and…?" Marty prompted when Dary stopped.

"It was a battle," Dary said seriously. "She firmly believes you'd be better off out in the open, but she doesn't understand why your Dad wouldn't understand. We had to work on her, man! It was marathon! But Dad finally got her to agree not to say anything, at least until we've had more time. I dunno how long we've got, but nothing will happen today. Sorry, it's the best we could do for now, Marty. But honestly? I think you're safe for now. She won't go against Dad and me."

"Jeesus, thanks Dary! I owe you big time!" Marty said, in huge relief. And suddenly, this day looked a whole lot brighter.

Chapter Nine
Fair Trade

"Okay guys, we need to go," Rainer said, as he tipped wash water from the cooler. "Who's hungry?"

"Famished!" Marty exclaimed, and Dary added, "I gotta crater in my guts, man!"

"Then let's get goin'," Rainer encouraged. They were due at Dary's parents' home for a a barbecue within the hour; Rob had already departed for home, profusely thanking everyone for a 'fantastic time'. They trooped out of the house to the Bronco, Marty and Dary piling into the backseat and Dad put his container of fruit topped vanilla cake on Marty's lap. The Bronco eased in reverse down the drive onto the street, and Rainer turned for Ocean Parade, a long wide boulevard which would take them west towards the Werland's home. Scanning the busy streets, Rainer eased the big SUV through the first half of the intersection slowly, began a turn, but suddenly braked sharply as a low slung sports car – Marty thought it was a Mercedes – whizzed past their nose, nearly clipping them. The driver's arm thrust out the window in a one-fingered salute. He was travelling well over the speed limit, even the boys could see that. Rainer whipped his mobile from his belt and held it out between the front seats.

"Marty, call 911 and ask for the police dispatch, keep the speaker on!" he commanded, and Marty took the phone, punching the numbers.

"Nine one one emergency, what is your emergency?" the operator asked, calm and proficient.

"Police dispatch, please," Marty said.

"One moment please," and there was dead air for a moment as the connection was paused, and Rainer said into the silence, "I'll take it from here, Marty; you just hold the phone for me."

"Okay."

"Dumbarton District Police, how may we help you?" came from the phone.

"I'm Rainer McKinley, I'm a police constable, badge number 49355. I'm westbound on Ocean Parade following, NOT in pursuit, of a red Mercedes, overspeed, but I'm not close enough to get his plate. We just passed…" and Rainer paused to orient himself, and Dary spoke up "Douglas Avenue!"

"Ocean Parade and Douglas, we have you," the operator said.

"He's about six blocks ahead," Rainer reported. "Can you roll units on him? He nearly took my nose off, he's speeding pretty good and he saluted me… I've got two kids in the vehicle so I'm not going to approach."

"Units dispatched," the operator reported.

"There's one!" Marty pointed as flashing blue lights emerged from a side street and came between them and the Mercedes. They watched the drama ahead of them unfold as the second police car appeared and attempted to block the Mercedes' lane, but the the driver had other ideas. He swerved around the second police car and lost control and rammed nose first into a lamp post. The car's nose crumpled, the windscreen crazed into myriad cracks and they could hear the crunch of the impact from even four blocks back. The lamp standard swayed crazily for a few moments before finally coming to a stop, listing away from the wrecked car.

"Oh wow!" Dary exclaimed, and Marty added, "Oh man, rad man!" then sobered up as Rainer threw a look at him.

"Let's hope he didn't kill himself!" he said shortly. They pulled to a stop across the boulevard from the wreck, and Rainer hopped out, pinning his badge to his belt and pulling his ID wallet from a pocket. "Stay here," he ordered, and went to join the policemen already securing the scene. The boys watched for a few minutes as the uniformed cops moved about the red sports car peering inside, but it was evident from their lack of activity the driver hadn't survived. Rainer came back across the street, and climbed back into the truck. "He didn't make it," he said shortly, restarting the Bronco and easing back into traffic.

"He… he was killed?" Dary asked, a quaver in his voice, which was new to Marty; he'd never heard it before.

"His face was all smashed in…" Dad said, and Marty closed his eyes, hating the imagery of blood and smashed features.

"Like how Mom died, all smashed up," Marty blurted. Then he sat silent, eyes closed against the inevitable tears which began whenever he missed his mother. He tried not to think of her, because the waterworks always happened and he felt shamed by them. Felt he should be stronger in himself, better able to handle his emotions. After all, he'd never seen Dad cry.

***

"How your Mum died?" Daryl, ever inquisitive, came up behind Marty later as he sat beside the back-yard pool at the Werland's, dangling his feet in the water. Marty glanced at him and nodded, swiping his eyes with his arm.

"She… she wasn't drinking," he began, "but the guy who hit our car was. Blind drunk, Dad said. He's still in jail. At least he got twenty years for it. Vehicular homicide, they call it, I think. Wrote our car off. Dad thought he'd have to sell the plane to buy another car, but I guess insurance looked after us okay. I still miss her! And that was two years ago!"

"Gods, I'm sorry!" Dary commiserated, putting an arm round his friend's shoulders and Marty knew he was; he'd never heard that tone in Dary's voice before. He was somewhat comforted by it. Dary glanced quickly at the parents on the patio behind them, and planted a quick kiss on Marty's cheek.

Marty was sniffling again, trying to keep his emotions in check, and failing miserably. Dary laid his head on Marty's shoulder and just sat with him as Marty cried quietly, shoulders heaving, tears spilling into his lap.

"Marty dear?" Mairie came to them, and seeing Marty's distress, pulled a clean napkin from her apron pocket and wiped the boy's cheeks, saying soothing things until Marty finally stopped sobbing. "Have you cried for your mother much?" she asked, slipping the napkin into his hand.

"Yea, but not lately," the boy admitted. "Been too busy, really."

"You'll feel better in a little bit. Dinner's ready if you are; surely you're hungry," and just then Marty's stomach rumbled, giving away the lie Marty was about to tell. "Come," she said, "Come and eat with us. There's always a place at the table for you."

"Thank-you Auntie Mairie," he said automatically, and climbed to his feet. Dary grinned at him. They shared a quick embrace, Dary discreetly kissing his cheek again, and barefoot, they crossed the grass to the patio.

At the table, Rainer saw them beside the pool. The embrace, and then the kiss. What the hell…?!

As usual, Mairie and Alphonse had overdone dinner: there was chicken, shish kabob, and some succulent little beefsteaks, as well as the usual myriad salads and jellies, and the boys selected just about everything on offer. Marty skipped the peas and lima beans in their little dish beside the salads. Plates loaded, they sat together at one side of the six-sided wooden table.

"If you folk are up for it," Rainer announced towards the end of the meal, "I have a flight in mind to Cape Palms; we can have a day's surfing."

"Ooooh another surf trip, Dad?! Cooooool!" Marty's spirits perked up. "But, aren't you working?"

"Yes, it'll be a working trip for me," Dad acknowledged, winking, "so it's most expenses paid. Well, the expensive parts, anyway. Flying and airport fees."

"What, we're taking the Legend?!" Marty asked hopefully.

"Nope, the Cessna again, only this time we're going the other way, south." Alphonse's eyebrows rose in query but Rainer said, quite seriously, "I'm really not allowed to discuss it, but my District Sergeant handed me a file and I'm expected to go investigate it. So we can all fly down to the Cape, you guys can head to the beach and I can do my thing while I'm earning my princely salary."

"Is this undercover?" Dary asked shrewdly, and Rainer threw him a look.

"Hush, you," he smiled. "I can't tell you."

"Yet," Marty added, glancing at his dad. "At least not until charges are filed, then he can tell us!"

"When charges are filed in court," Dad amended. "Anyway, I want to thank you for the barbecue; the meal was fantastic!"

"Fair trade," Alphonse remarked. "We feed you and have you over for company, and you give us aeroplane rides to exotic locales in our wonderful country! How can it get any better than that?"

"There's dessert yet," Mairie remarked. "Rainer brought over lovely fruit-topped cake! I wonder if the boys would like to cut it and hand it around?"

"Sure!" Dary got to his feet and nudged Marty's arm with his own. "Oh, Uncle Rainer, may Marty stay over tonight? Please? Mum…?"

***

"I found something cool on the net," Marty said as they undressed in Dary's sumptuous bedroom later. "One guy lies down on his stomach, and the other guy's on top, like, and gets to rub his cock between the other guy's cheeks. Only, you don't try pushing it in," he added.

"Cool!" Dary exclaimed. "You go first 'cause you found it. I'll lie down. You get on me, okay?"

"Yum," Marty grinned at him, and playfully pulled at Dary's short shorts, unsnapping and unzipping and tugging them down. He gripped Dary's penis for a few seconds, which throbbed upwards in anticipation and Dary grinned at him, then flopped face down on his bed, his high rounded cheeks squirming round in circles as he rubbed himself against his sheets. "Hey, hey, quit that," Marty chided as he quickly slipped his own shorts and undies off. "I gotta get on you."

"So get on already!" Dary grinned at him, and twitched his bottom as Marty climbed between his legs and lowered himself onto Dary's body. Another unbelievable moment, the thought flashed through his mind; they both naked, in Daryl's bed, he on top, about sandwich his cock in Dary's deep crevice. But that crevice was ever elusive as Dary teasingly swapped his bum to and fro, giving Marty a hard time as tried lining up and inserting himself where he wanted to go. Finally, Marty simply dropped his weight onto his friend, which went a ways towards subduing his movements, and the contact with his friend's soft bum skin was heavenly on his middle. He manoeuvred about until he finally found the crevice, and almost forced himself into the deep shaft, sighing in satisfaction.

"Oh man, you feel big in there!" Dary exclaimed.

"Because I am big," Marty retorted, giggling. "My monster cock," and he giggled again as he commenced rubbing, Dary's body under his heavenly against his own, even the prickles of the thousands of little hairs down Dary's back and on his legs.

"Uh uh uh uh uh uh… omigawd this is better than even I thought it was gonna be," he gasped. He could feel Dary's opening beneath his penis, but because they hadn't discussed that he didn't think it right to go there, just yet. He kept rubbing, and Dary started up again with motions of his own, finally finding those movements in concert, Marty riding the crevice, Dary providing a bucking bottom which only added to the excitement. "Oh oh oh oh oh oh omigawd omigawd omigawd I'm gonna blow…" Marty moaned as his sensations built and intensified.

"Stop!" Dary commanded, stopping his own motions

"What? Why?" Marty demanded. "Feels soooooo gooooood, Dary…"

"Feel even better if you go in," Dary replied.

Scary moment number three hundred and… Marty's mind told him. You go in him, he's gonna wanna go in you. Oh boy, here we go…

"You sure?" Marty queried, playing for time.

"Absolutely," Dary said. "C'mon, get off me, we'll lube up and you can do it. C'mon, Marty, it's what boyfriends do!"

"Yea, I guess I knew that," Marty acknowledged, silently gulping that this transcendent moment was suddenly, finally here. And his first time sleeping at Dary's too. This was no time to wimp out. And, he was comforted by the thought that his was larger by half than his friend's. He just hoped this didn't leave Dary wailing…

"Mart… off me?" Dary's voice penetrated his addled thoughts.

"Oh, yea, sorry," and Marty rolled off onto his side. Dary jacknifed onto his knees, pushed himself upright and reached across him to a drawer in the night table beside his bed. He pulled out a tube of Excelsior DynaLube and unscrewed the cap.

"Is there anything you don't have?" Marty blurted, remembering the condoms he'd found in Dary's pack a couple of weeks ago when they'd first started having sex together.

"Always ready!" Dary grinned, squeezing some of the clear paste onto his fingers. "Gimme your cock," and Marty thrust it forward. Dary carefully smeared Marty's crown, added more to his shaft from the tube, and gently rubbed the highly charged organ.

"Careful, or I'll shoot before I get in there…" Marty warned, half joking. Dary grinned again and handed the tube to him.

"Do my bum," he said, then turned and bent, thrusting his curves up and outwards, pulling his cheeks open with his fingers. "You know, right? On the opening, and up a little? Get some inside?"

"Yea, I know," Marty answered, glad for all of the porn he'd clandestinely watched on his laptop. Rubbing the stuff on Dary's quivering anus, then pushing his finger against the puckered skin was highly erotic for him, even Dary's little gasp as his finger penetrated the snug opening and he twisted his fingertip inside a moment. His penis surged and quivered in anticipation and Marty squeezed it tightly to prevent a premature embarrassment.

"Okay, go in," Dary said, taking a breath. "You want me like this? Or somehow else?"

"This is fine," Marty said, knee-walking on the bed between Dary's calves, aiming his penis at that puckered target, closer closer… contacting and he felt Dary tense. "Relax," Marty said. "That's what they always say on the videos. Just relax… If you want me to stop, tell me. I'm bigger an' I don't wanna hurt you…"

"Go on, already!" Dary said impatiently, and Marty wondered if his friend were as anxious as he was about this new adventure.

"Okay, here goes," Marty warned, and leaned forward, pressing his pecker head firmly against the opening. Which resisted, firmly, and he had to push harder and harder and harder until suddenly he felt the tip penetrate. Heard Dary's slight gasp, but as he hadn't said, 'no,' pushed all the harder, more firmly, almost afraid of the force he was applying to accomplish this, when finally the head slipped into the snugness and Marty could feel it gripping his penis head very tightly. He sensed he should wait a moment, rather than just shove onward, and he did, noticing Dary's panting in his slightly heaving sides, which decided him. When the panting subsided, he pushed further, sinking his head deeper, Dary's pucker tight against his shaft, and he wondered how far he could push in before Dary yelped for mercy, but to his surprise his middum with its sparse pubes pressed up against Dary's cheeks and the other boy hadn't uttered a sound.

"Oh man, I'm in," he gasped with a sigh, and paused for a moment.

"Ya gotta get off in me, you know, or it's all wasted," Dary told him. "C'mon, hump me!"

Yea… hump him, Marty thought, and suiting action to suggestion, started a series of short strokes, which didn't feel like they were going to accomplish anything.

"Long ones!" Dary instructed, "long and slow… you gotta get back up the the head of your cock where the jack off nerves are! You know, the sweet spot under your cock head!"

Oh yea, the sweet spot; how could he have forgotten?! Thankfully this was Dary teaching him and not someone else who might eventually end up teasing him about his first experience. "Yea, okay, getting there," Marty panted. "I'll get there, gimme a moment."

"Long as you like, buddy, we got alllllllllllll night," Dary said, and wriggled his bum a little, which registered not unpleasant sensations on Marty's penis.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm! That's cooool on my cock, man," Marty hummed. Taking a breath, he pulled back, back, until just his penis head was inside, then pushed back in again.

Oooooh that felt good right up to a certain part on his shaft; he liked that bit, then it faded as he pushed deeper in again. Right, back again … back back back, oops! Pulled out unintentionally. Dary giggled, wriggling his bum again, and Marty had to line back up and push back in. It was easier this time, not as tight, and he experienced that sexy sensation just under his penis tip again, right where he wanted it to be, that sweet spot. Yum! And he concentrated on that, rubbing that two or three centimetres [~1 inch] of his penis in Dary's snugness, feeling the sensations building and building, hoping to hell he didn't slip and pull out again in the middle of it all. The tension built, his ecstasy building and building and building until he had absolutely no control and he squirted. Deep shuddering orgasms, one, two three… culminating in a dozen or more intense spurts as his boy juice escaped and shot against Dary's inner tissues. And Marty moaned, finally stopping, but Dary gasped, "Keep humpin', man! That's the best part!" So he resumed, and indeed, it was the best part. Until, gasping and panting from the sheer exhaustion of his pleasure, he finally pulled out, his penis sagging a little as it exited with a small plop.

Dary dropped to his stomach, his middle sinking to the bed, and he sighed. "I've now been well and truly fucked by my boyfriend," he sighed. He turned his head and grinned at Marty lying beside him. "When I fuck you, Mart, then we're consummated, you know that, right?"

"Consummated? What do you mean by that?" Marty asked, and Daryl smiled a little wider.

"When people get married, it's tradition they have to fuck; usually on their wedding night, which consummates… makes the marriage final. So… if we do the same thing, then our boy- friendship is consummated."

"Yea, but we're not getting married!" Marty objected.

"Not yet," Dary grinned at him and laughed at Marty's startled expression.

"My turn," Dary said, still smiling. "Lie on your back."

Marty lay back, Dary shifted down the bed and raised Marty's ankles, pushing his calves upwards until the undersides Marty's knees were resting on Dary's shoulders and he reached for the lube. Marty found himself grateful for some anal practise lately with his fingers in the privacy of his own bed and the shower of late, in anticipation of this moment. Still, the contact when it came was a slight surprise as Dary's fingers repeated what he had done a few minutes ago, the penetration with the lube cool on his heightened skin, and then the fingers were taken away. The next contact would be Dary's penis and now, here it was. Insistently pressing up against him, not stopping but shoving him wider and wider as the penis penetrated deeper into him and suddenly, a pain there. Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow! but he suppressed verbalizing it lest he appear wimpy. He knew about this pain; he'd read about it on the net, and while he didn't think it would be quite this intense, he was sure it was not as bad with Dary's cock as it might be with a much larger one; even one like his own. But be had to clamp lips together and squeeze his eyes shut like he did with a painful injection and mercifully, Dary stopped to rest and Marty got a little respite.

"Okay?" Dary asked, and Marty, his eyes still shut, gasped and nodded.

"Yea, hurt there a little," he said, "but I'm okay now. Go on…"

"Yea, hurt me too, I know what it's like. You sure?"

"Yea, sure," Marty gasped, and braced himself for what came next. He was surprised when his own cock limped down; he'd thought he'd have been erected the whole time, but his anal sensations weren't enough to keep him pointed at Dary's chest. Dary held his thighs as he worked himself in Marty's bum, and finally shot into him.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, omigawd," Dary sighed, rubbing the last few inches, and then finally pulling out. Marty could feel liquid dribbling down his bum and he waited until Dary finally released his legs and slowly returned his feet to the bed.

"Holy jeese," he sighed, mentally wondering just what the hell they had just done, what sins against nature they had just committed, but as Dary pointed out; it was a consummation of sorts. Another seal on their friendship. Another tie which bound them closer together.

Later, "We can never tell anyone about this, you know," Marty said, as they lay on the wide bed, arms round each other.

"Some will know, Mart," Dary pointed out. "When word gets out we're boyfriends, and it will. You'd better prepare yourself for that. Joel and Rob know. Others at school will too, once we go back. You can't hide it, you know. Even you know how to spot it now. Don't tell me you don't."

"Yea," Marty sighed, an arm over his eyes. "Yea, I guess I do. Yea, I guess they'll know at school too. But no kissing or holding hands like some of them do, Dary, okay? Promise me!"

"Not at first," Dary agreed. "Until you're used to it."

"Not ever!" Marty insisted, taking his arm down and turning to face Dary. "I don't need that getting back to my Dad!"

"Well, Mum's right about one thing," Dary told him. "That it will eventually. But we'll be around to help you out when it does. That I promise you."

Breakfast at the Werland's was help yourself to whatever was available. Marty found cold cereal, sliced some strawberries onto it, adding milk and a judicious amount of sugar, and carried the bowl to the table to sit beside Dary. Mairie sat opposite; Alphonse was nowhere to be seen.

"Did you sleep well, Marty?" Mairie inquired. "Dary didn't keep you awake too late?" Marty gulped as she all but winked at them.

"Yes, thank-you and, no, he didn't keep me awake." Marty could still feel the results of last night's activity inside him, but it was pleasant feeling; not at all like the terrible jokes he'd heard. Probably didn't know what they were talking about, he surmised. The shower with Dary in his ensuite bathroom this morning had been fun too.

"Your father said to get home as quickly as you can, as you're supposed to fly to Cape Palms today," she announced, startling both of the boys.

"Today?! I thought that was in a few days; that's what he said last night," Marty exclaimed. "Besides, I thought he had another three days off…"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Mairie said serenely. "But when you're done your breakfast, I'm to drive you both over. Oh, do have some toast or a cinniroll, Marty. They're so good!"

"Am I taking my board?" Dary asked, and Mairie nodded, telling him to get it and his surfing gear when he'd done eating. "Are you and Dad coming?" Dary asked.

Mairie shook her head, "Not this time," she replied. "We have things to do which really shouldn't wait. So you may go and behave yourself, young man."

"I will, promise," Dary said, getting up and planting a kiss on his mother's cheek. He carried his breakfast dishes to the dishwasher and put them inside.

On the drive back to the McKinley home, Marty mused how different his life was here; simpler in some ways in what his Dad seemed willing to permit him, but oh so complex and complicated in other ways. There was no drama during the drive this time, and Mairie let the boys out on the street, and Marty helped Dary retrieve his gear from the Range Rover's tailgate and they carried it to the house. They found Rainer packing a lunch cooler at the counter, supplies laid out in orderly fashion.

"Oh good, you're back," he said. "Could you guys load the Bronco with our gear while I finish this?"

"Sure," Marty assured him. "I thought we were going in a few days, like you said last night."

"I got a call last evening, it was on my voicemail this morning. My sergeant wants this cleared today."

"Oh, okay," Marty said. "Dad, did you do preflight yet?"

"You mean weather check and course and all that? Yet to do," Rainer informed him.

"Dad, can I? Can I fly today? Please…?!"

Rainer looked seriously at him for what seemed an eternity. "Now that you're in good with Maggie Evans at the airport and she's not likely to bite our heads off anymore…? Plllleeeaaaase?!"

Dary glanced between the two, a look of uncertainty on his face.

"Alright, go and check the weather on the net,… I don't know…"

"Okay!"

"But you and Daryl load the Bronco first!"

"Yes, Dad." Marty could barely contain his excitement. All those hours on the computer simulator, and the instruction Dad had given him when he was stuck… all came down to today.

"Your Dad's actually going to let you fly?!" Dary asked almost in disbelief.

"Maybe, likely, probably," Marty grinned back at him. "You're not nervous, are you?"

Dad even let him have the left-hand seat, the pilot-in-command's seat, though Marty wasn't fooled. He well knew who was in command of this aeroplane, even if he was sitting at the controls. He took a deep breath. He'd done the weather check: clear skies and moderate winds to ten thousand feet all the way to Cape Palms. He'd laid out his course across the maps, which confirmed what the computer told him.

When they arrived at the airport, he and Dary loaded the airplane, and Marty meticulously pre-flighted the Cessna with Dad hovering silently over his shoulder. This last made Marty slightly nervous, but he comforted himself in being familiar with the routine and knowing Dad would only speak up if he made a grave error. Which he didn't; Dad kept the aircraft pretty well. His only question was over how much fuel to carry.

"We've got lots, Marty. We'll refuel when we get to the Cape."

Now in the cockpit, he turned switches to turn on the electrics, snapped other switches turning on the radios, and set about readying the cockpit for flight. Their course would be slightly east of south, so he set his compass and heading bug for 170. Altimeter pressure, which would vary slightly at the Cape, but he'd adjust that when they were much closer. He checked the clock against his watch and found it half a minute shy; close enough. Most of the flying would be done visually, like navigating on a highway, tracking south-east until they saw the ocean, then following the coast down to Cape Palms. Quite easy, actually, and Marty hoped the winds aloft wouldn't blow him around too much.

"Clear front, ready to start," Marty said, and turned the magneto key all the way. The engine sputtered, the prop turned, faster and faster, and the engine caught, and Marty quickly adjusted the throttle and mix until it ran smoothly.

"Belted in, Dary?" he queried, glancing over his shoulder, and saw that Dary's lap belt was snugged and secured. Dary wore one of their green headsets with a microphone. He flashed a smile of encourage-ment at his nervous boyfriend. "Don't worry, Dary; Dad's here in case I screw up. We won't die!"

"Gee, thanks a lot!" Dary retorted, then smiled back at him. He still looked nervous, but sat quietly with his hands in his lap.

"Dad? All set?"

"Yup."

"Normanton Center, good day," Marty greeted through his microphone again. "This is November Charlie Xray Lima on the tarmac at Timpte, requesting clearance for take-off to Cape Palms, VFR, please."

"Xray Lima," a pleasant female voice came back through their headphones, "you may taxi and take off at your discretion at Timpte, runway two six. Winds are two six five at 11 knots, variable, ceiling nine thousand seven hundred. Altimeter 30.15. You may proceed when ready. Advise on take off."

Woo! Marty thought, not often you got a taxi and take off all in one instruction. "Normanton center, taxi and take off on runway two six, advise on take off. Xray lima."

He quickly slipped the brake, putting the plane in motion and carefully taxied past the main hangar, onto the taxiway A, then onto the runway, and lined up, the highway-like stretch of scarred pavement ahead of him an open invitation. "This is the part I like best!" he said into his headphones, then switched back to comms radio. "Xray Lima, taking off, runway two six at Timpte. Climbing to five five hundred and then turning to one seven zero degrees."

"Xray Lima, cleared for five five hundred," Normanton Center told him.

Marty pushed the red mixture lever, the blue propeller pitch lever and then the throttle lever, feet firmly on his rudder pedals to counteract the prop trying to turn them to the right, and the plane moved down the runway, faster and faster, gathering speed until he felt it finally lift off. His eyes glanced to the flap lever, and he gulped, the flaps were still all the way up, and he was sure once he'd levelled out, Dad would have something to say; he'd forgotten to add them for take off. He kept the plane in a seven hundred-feet-per-minute climb, nice and gentle, maintaining his heading until Dad advised him, "You can bank left now, Marty, you're clear of the airport. Not too much now…" and Marty gently pressed his left foot against the pedal and turned his column slightly left. The plane obediently turned and they soared round from the west to southeast, the sun coming round to shine into the cabin as Marty settled the Cessna on a one seventy heading.

"Very nicely done," Rainer praised. "You handled all that very well. Good job, Marty!"

"Except for flaps," Marty said ruefully.

"I wasn't even going to mention that," Dad remarked, "but as you brought it up, sometimes you can get away without them, and today you did. Okay, what's your plan from here?"

"Stick to one seventy heading until we pick up the coast, then turn south and follow it to the Cape. That'll put us into a nice position for approach to NCCP airport and the runway. They have a runway 26 just like we do, and last I looked…"

"Xray Lima," the female voice came through the headphones, "Would you like flight following?"

"Normanton Center, yes, flight following please," Marty replied.

"Xray Lima you are now on flight following. Have a pleasant flight, good day."

"Good day, Normanton, and thank-you. Xray Lima."

"Winds can shift Marty, so be prepared to have to shift runways too," Dad advised. "Yes, stick with your plan until you're advised to change it. That way you have a plan instead of just winging it."

Marty risked a quick glance over his shoulder at Dary, but his friend was peering out his window and didn't appear to have any green in his face, so Marty thought he couldn't have been too badly frightened. He felt euphoric, this being his maiden flight where he actually prepared the flight and flew the aircraft off the ground, and was in charge of navigation too. The ocean from the aircraft was spectacular as they flew along the coast at seventy five hundred feet. Grey and green breakers rolling in to pound the the beaches or rocky cliffs in sprays of misty spindrift and Marty found himself having a hard time keeping his eyes on the horizon and flicking to his instruments to make sure he was holding course and altitude. This was his first flight where he was in control of the plane and he didn't want to make any blunders which might result in Dad taking it back from him. With Dary in the aircraft, that would be an ultimate humiliation.

Marty didn't disgrace himself; twenty miles from Cape Palms, he got a weather update, and they were still good for runway two six, so he held course down the coast until his NDB needle edged round to nearly three o'clock position and he tilted the aircraft to follow suit. They were ten miles from the airport, and he'd allowed the plane to drop to three thousand feet.

"November Charlie Xray Lima, Cessna 206, inbound for Cape Palms at three thousand, ten miles out, turning base for runway two six approach," he announced over the radio.

"Xray Lima, Cape Palms approach, you are number one for runway two six," came a reply. "Winds are two seven five, eight knots, altimeter 29.95. Advise when airport in sight."

Marty gulped, oops, he hadn't known there was manned tower at Cape Palms. "Xray Lima, number one for two six, advise when I see the airport. Thank-you," he said. Which meant there were no aircraft between him and the runway. After five miles he could just see the airport buildings, runways and taxiways, and the Vasi lights winking white at him. He dropped flaps, and pulled his throttle back, settling the plane on ninety knots and added a little downward trim to the nose, watching the Vasi lights, willing them to turn two red left two white right to tell him he was on the proper glide slope. "Cape Palm, Xray Lima, airport in sight."

"Xray Lima, land at discretion."

Marty acknowledged.

"A little slower, Marty," Dad said when those infernal lights remained stubbornly white, indicating he was too high to make the threshold. "Knock your speed back to eighty-five."

There we go! Marty breathed in relief when the lights changed colours, just as he wanted them. He pulled back a little on the column, but Dad said, "Don't do that. Resist the urge to lift your nose until you're ready to flare. All it does is add altitude to your glide slope and you'll be late touching down."

"Oops, okay," and he let the column forward a little again.

"That's it, that's the way," Dad said. "Fly it right to touchdown, Marty, don't let it get away on you. Wings level! You're drifting a little … straighten up…" and he was finally able to flare over the threshold, reduce power and touch down in one of the gentlest landings he'd ever done, simulated or real. "Good job!" Dad praised, and pulled the flaps up, and adjusted the prop and mix levers as Marty guided the aircraft to the taxiway.

"Xray Lima, Cape Palm ground control, welcome to Cape Palm. Take taxiway Alpha to the tarmac, cross tarmac to general aviation area on the east side of the hangar, and park there, please."

"Taxi to the tarmac and to general aviation, Xray Lima," Marty replied.

"Watch your speed," Rainer advised, "they don't like you going too fast."

"Dad, I know," Marty sighed, and carefully watched his speed as he guided the 206 to its berth on the tarmac. He shut down, and sank back in his seat, taking a deep breath, and flashed a beatific smile at his Dad and then his boyfriend.

Dary, for his part, had been nervous but agog at Marty taking control of the 206; he knew his friend flew a lot of computer simulation but he hadn't realized Marty ached to fly the Cessna too. Even more surprising was Rainer allowing it, but then on reflection, he realized Rainer wouldn't permit Marty to fly unless he had pretty good reason not to. Marty had just proven he was capable of handling the plane, well, so long as things went nice and easily. He held his hand up, palm forward and Marty slapped hands in a high five.

"Great flight, Marty," Dary smiled back. "I wasn't scared, not even once!"

"Thanks."

"Okay, you guys unload while I take care of airport business," Rainer said. "Just pile our stuff beside the aircraft and we'll haul it out to the taxi when it gets here, okay?"

Rainer entered the airport reception office, now abruptly back on the job, though only he knew it and at this point wouldn't reveal his purpose. He approached the counter, making sure his police ID were well shoved into his back pocket and carried his tablet and wallet.

"I'm Xray Lima, just landed and parked in slot twelve," he told the counter clerk, an attractive young lady who looked him boldly in the eye.

"Oh, the 206," she smiled, and drew a keyboard towards her. "You have your pilot's license and aircraft registry?"

"Right here," Rainer replied, laying the documents on the counter, and waited patiently as the girl recorded information from them.

"Summer landing fee is sixty-five dollars, and ramp fee for the day is thirty-five, that's good until this time tomorrow," she announced, and Rainer simply handed over a credit card. He choked back a comment about the expense, it wasn't his money going into this, but he hated handing it over without arguing the point. The fees were well in excess of what was normally charged in New Cumbria for airport services, which was precisely the reason he was here. "With taxes, that comes to one hundred and sixteen dollars and eighty cents," she added.

She swiped his card in her machine and entered the amount, Rainer outwardly calm but inwardly fuming at the injustice of it. He was being grossly overcharged, and he wondered what the investigation would reveal as to where the excess charges ended up. As he waited for the transaction to be processed, he dialed a taxi company whose sign hung on a wall, and ordered a minivan to come for him, the boys and the gear. A printer hummed and he was finally handed his receipt and documents back, and he left the office, barely refraining from shaking his head. Many complaints had been made about this airport's fees, and they now had firm evidence of violations under the Fair Trade Practices Act. However, the investigation had just begun; someone else would be along in a few days to track the money. His part in it was over, barring a report and handing over his evidence.

Cape Palm surfing was far different from surfing at home in Normanton. There must have been a storm at sea east of New Cumbria a few days ago, as the rollers were high, and constant as the taxi glided along the beach frontage road. The boys eagerly eyed the combers, Marty well satisfied with what he saw. He glanced at Dary, who nodded with a wide smile; this trip was going to be memorable. The cab stopped at a stone stairway leading down to the sand from the higher street, and the boys piled out, pulling surf boards, backpacks, their cooler and the long nylon bag containing their beach shelter and blankets which Mairie had loaned them. They grabbed an end of the cooler each and their surf boards, backpacks over their shoulders and went to claim a spot on the sand. Rainer joined them a few moments later with the rest and helped them erect the nylon shelter; the extra work was well worth the trouble when the sun reached zenith in the middle of the day and the shelter provided shade. They quickly stripped and changed, even Rainer, which surprised the boys, and then spent a moment reading about the locale.

"Rocks to the north," Rainer noted from the text and the map displayed on his tablet. "More to the south, but if you stay well within the headlands on both sides, you should be over sand the whole time. There's a steep drop off about a hundred yards out, let's make that your limit, alright? Don't go beyond that."

"Cool," Marty agreed, and Dary nodded.

"Fair enough," he grinned and hefted his RipCurl. "Well, shall we? We've come a long way, let's go and enjoy it!"

The combers were strong, Marty noted as they duckdove under them; you had to get under well in advance of them or they'd grab and shove you back. Tall too, he noticed, he hoped he could manoeuvre into a tunnel ride, riding along the wave rather than perpendicular to it. But first, it'd be a good idea to get a feel for this water before trying anything fancy. He felt the increased strength pushing against him, and he knew he was at his boundary. He turned his Shark Attack, sat on it and felt the next comber lift him. Time to go! Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Dary just emerging from a wave, Dad must be somewhere behind him. He popped up, got his balance in one or two quick steps and rode the wave towards the beach. Wow, these were power waves, surging along rapidly and Marty was glad for his experience now, probably the first time he'd really been tested since coming to New Cumbria. These were no waves for a beginner. This should turn out to be a fun day…!

He heard Dary whooping behind him as he popped up and felt the power too. Time for some fun! He tilted over the edge of the curl and slid down the wave's face, almost reaching bottom, then cut back in a one eighty, his momentum carrying him back up the face of the wave, where he whipped around and again rode his board down, his kedges digging deep into the water and keeping him steady as he thrilled to the speed of the ride. He glanced shore ward, he still had time for one or two more, turned again, ran back up the wave's face, turned and back down again. By now, he was nearly ashore so he ran the wave out, and dismounted, waiting for Dary and his Dad to catch him up.

"Holy!" Dary exclaimed, catching him up, "those are awesome! Rad, man!"

"I was running up and down," Marty informed him, "did, three, four? Something like that. I wasn't counting. Where's Dad?"

Dary shrugged. "Dunno, but he wasn't with me…"

Then Marty saw him, almost tiny against the size of the comber he rode, recognizing his Dad's brilliant red board Marty had nicknamed Red Baron. As the boys had done, Rainer rode down the face of the wave, then ascended and descended in a series of cut backs, once even even having to grab the edge, or the 'rail', in order not to be tossed off.

"Cool!" Marty exclaimed as Rainer finally rode the wave out towards them.

"How's your ass?" Dary smirked, and Marty leered back at him

"Probably same as yours," he retorted, and grinned. "We're gonna have to do all that again."

"Next time," Dary said, "put it all together and do absolutely everything!"

Marty got his tunnel ride a few runs later, as he and Dary began daring each other with different manoeuvres "Forward cut back!" Dary would say, and Marty would have to perform.

"Reverse cutback!" Marty would reply.

"Grab rail cutback!" Dary came back another time. These were the waves to do all this; there was plenty of water, plenty of wave, and plenty of power. And both boys were skillful enough to pull off these moves.

"Wave run!" Marty finally dared, daring both Dary and himself.

"Woo, you don't pull any punches do you?!" Dary exclaimed. "Okay, lead on, maestro, I'm right behind ya!"

"Where's Dad?"

"I think he went in after that last run," Dary said, glancing over his shoulder. "Here we go!"

They rose, balanced on their boards, then tipped over the edge, racing down the wave's face, and about halfway down, Marty judged the moment right and leaned back, turning his board inside towards the surface of the wave. The tons of water curled to his right and ten feet over his head as he sped along the water, right hand brushing the wall beside him as he glanced upwards, watching the curl overhead. If he went too far, didn't turn soon enough for the beach, that curl above him would drop down, engulf him and Dary, and possibly push them with tremendous force to the sea bottom. The curl was starting to drop, time to cut towards the beach, and he leaned back again, willing his board to come round so he could get out from under before the wave collapsed under him and the water above sent him to the bottom. He wasn't going to make it! The wave dropped sooner than he'd thought it would, and he drew a hugely deep breath; this could be a long time under.

The water came crashing down over him in thunderous cascades. Marty was knocked from his board and he felt it jerk wickedly against his ankle; this was why one wore a shock cord, so you didn't get separated from your board. That was the least of his worries as he felt pressure against his body as tons of water landed on top and around him pressing him deeper and deeper down until he could feel the sand and small stones of the bottom rasping against his surf clothing and skin of his arms and legs.

His head took a nasty shock, and then the pressure was releasing, as the wave rolled over him, and natural buoyancy and some frantic swimming took him back to the surface. His head broke free and he shook water from his eyes and hair, and looked around around for his board. He saw Dary surface some yards away, sputtering and gasping, just as he was, and he finally felt down his leg for his cord to pull his board in. It too popped up and landed flat on the surface with a smack, and he retrieved it, finally climbing aboard and paddled weakly for shore.

His head rang, his skin where it had scraped the bottom stung from the salt water, and he was glad for his rash reducing surfing clothes protecting the rest of him. His only goal now to get to shore for some rest and respite. And a meal. He was starved.

Rainer eyed the boys trudging across the sand towards him, obviously tired and somewhat wiped out from that last run. He'd gulped when the wave they were riding had overwhelmed them, and he'd stood, watching anxiously until first one head, then the other, broke water and the boards surged to the surface after them. He continued to watch as they made contact, then turned and paddled their boards towards shore, evidently none the worse for their ducking, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He opened the cooler and pulled out thick cold cut submarine sandwiches and bottles of chocolate milk for them, listening as their voices drew nearer and nearer. Marty had a gravel rash on one elbow and his left thigh; he'd be limping and sore in an hour, he thought. As they parked their boards, fished in their packs for towels and dried off, he carefully watched their body language, looking for signs which might tell him more about that kiss he'd seen last night. He was sure he'd seen it, and though he was sure he didn't mind the hugging between them, (men hugged after all in given situations,) he didn't like his son being kissed by another male.

"That was quite a dump," he observed, eyeing Marty's rashes. "Dary, did you get hurt out there?"

The boy checked himself over, he too had elbow rashes, but he shrugged them off.

"That was scary!" Marty remarked, biting into his sandwich. "Man, felt like I was under for hours!"

"Not even a minute," Rainer told him, "it seemed a long time to me too. Are you guys planning on going back out there?"

"See how I feel," Marty replied. He eased himself to his bum on the blankets and sighed, slowly eating and sipping from his choco milk bottle. Dary sat closely beside him, Rainer noticed; their arms often bumped together as they ate, but neither boy seemed to notice. Not conclusive, Rainer decided, but he'd keep a closer eye on Dary and his behaviour from now on.

"I think I'll fly back," he said slowly, and Marty glanced at him with something like relief. Rainer was glad he'd made that decision.

"Yea, okay," he replied. "Thanks a million for letting me fly it here, Dad. Did you get what you needed at the airport?"

"You know I can't discuss that, Marty," Rainer chided gently, "so please don't ask, and don't mention that to anyone else until it's time."

Marty's face suddenly went ashen, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he pitched across Dary, and collapsed across his lap, his head whomping onto the blankets.

"Marty!" Dary exclaimed, eyeing the prone form across his lap, "what the… ?"

Chapter Ten
Half Out

Marty stood before his mirror, fighting with his school tie, trying to remember after six weeks how it was to be knotted. He wore a crisp new white short sleeved shirt, his tan knee shorts from last semester, white socks and slip-on shoes. Was it slip the wide end under the tie as it was held taut round his neck, then bring it round from behind, or over the front…?

Memories these days seemed a little mazy, like this one. At the end of last school year, he could have tied this thing without thinking about it; now, he had try to force the memory so he could remember … fuck it! Let Dad help him.

The aftermath of his accident during the trip to Cape Palms was hazy; about all he recalled was waking in the emergency room with a splitting headache, which caused vomiting, his head woozy and his eyesight fuzzy, bright lights which hurt his eyes, an anxious doctor and nurses fussing about him but it was mostly a blur. But he could feel even now the relief at finally being left alone in a dim room so he could doze, snooze, and eventually sleep. Except sleep was disturbed by a cacophony of dreams and nightmares – a pattern which followed in decreasing frequency in the ensuing three weeks – of flying, Dary, Dad, and surfing. Culminating in that awful tumbling to the bottom of the ocean, pushed down by that huge wave at the Cape. The dream was almost always the same and the experience left him gasping, panting and sometimes in a cold sweat, frightened.

He gave up on the tie and went to the kitchen for breakfast. Dad rose as he entered, pulling a plate from the oven and placing it before him, another for himself. Pancakes, two eggs and this morning, sausage. A glass of orange juice was poured for him too.

"How are you feeling?" Dad asked.

"Fine, thank-you, Dad." Marty replied; and he waited for the ritual to be played out.

"How's your head? Any pain last night? Now?" Marty shook his head. "Nightmares?"

"No, not last night, I got a good sleep, I think."

"Are you clear-headed?"

"Yes."

"Eyesight sharp?"

"Yes, Dad, everything's fine, I promise."

"You know I'm concerned, Marty. You took a nasty knock, a moderate concussion, which the doctor says…"

"Dad, I know!" Marty said, exasperated. "We have this same conversation every day, I can repeat both sides of it by heart, as if it's a… a movie script I'm supposed to know or something. I know, no sports, or exertion until I'm cleared by a doctor after three weeks. Which, if I remember rightly, should be just about now, shouldn't it?" Rainer gazed at him level-eyed from across the table; Marty hated these looks. They seemed to last an eternity, and he wondered just what Dad expected to see by looking at him so long. "What?" Marty asked, gazing straight back at him, "I'm not that good-lookin', am I?"

Rainer snorted and gave a ghost of a smile, shaking his head but at the same time pleased Marty could be this cocky today. First day back at school, and that… He pushed the thought of Dary from his mind. So far, he'd managed to keep that kid at bay during Marty's convalescence, but he knew it wouldn't be forever. Telling them not to contact at school, or even outside it, was useless, he knew; he had no choice but to let things run their course. Boyfriends! he snorted inwardly.

"Are you done?" he asked, glancing at Marty's empty plate, and Marty nodded. Rainer rose to clear the breakfast dishes.

"Dad, will you help me with my tie, please?"

Dad returned and deftly whipped the ends about Marty's nose, ending in a neat knot which he gently pushed up under Marty's chin. He put his hands on his son's shoulders, gazing at him again.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Yea, you're welcome." He stopped, standing there with his hands on his son's shoulders, needing to say this. The knowledge of Marty and Dary had bothered him for three weeks, he had had that time in which to compose the words, but knowing, probably, what he had to say best came straight out, from the depths of his belief. But keeping in mind what Mairie and Alphonse had told him the night he'd indignantly returned Dary home. He wasn't to condemn the boys, because this was simply the New Cee way. That he did not approve should not colour how he dealt with it. But there was no way he was going to give in that far, give up that much of his firmly held upbringing. Which he was desperately attempting to imbue in his own son.

He took a deep breath, controlled his emotions, and began. "There is something I want to say to you, and I'm not quite sure how to say it, so I'll use the direct route. I know about you and Daryl… about this… boy friendship you're supposed to be engaged in," and Marty gulped, feeling the blood rushing to his face.

"Daaaad…"

"Hear me out," Rainer said firmly, squeezing Marty's thin shoulders in his powerful hands. "I can't stop you from seeing him at school, or even on the beach. I know you're going to see each other, and I can't stop that. I don't like it, but if I try to stop you, you'll just go behind my back and do it anyway. Alphie and Mairie so much as said so. So, this is the deal: he doesn't come here, you don't go there. Understand?"

Shocked, Marty just stood there staring, his brown eyes wide in surprise, a sinking feeling wrenching his guts at his father's words… Dary, not allowed here? He not permitted at the Werlands? That meant no more joint surfing trips; no more… anything!

The tears welled up and Marty wrenched himself away, hunting for his backpack, and he ran from the house. He grabbed his bike from the backyard and blindly pedaled away, his anger and frustration consuming him and he almost didn't brake in time at the Ocean Parade stop sign. He could barely contain the tears at his father's cruelty. But that was Rainer, direct, to-the-point, sometimes utterly tactless. It might be good in dealing with criminals, but why did he have to do it to his own son?!

He'd wondered why Dary hadn't been around, with his cheerful smile and impudent manner, to cheer him up on lonely days when Dad was at work. Or why, whenever he called the Werland's phone, he'd gotten a message, "The line is currently busy; please try your call again later." Except, later never came, he'd gotten the same message every time. Or why Dary hadn't called. Or why had Auntie Mairie not been around to try and mother and coddle him; now he understood. Dad had interdicted them all. Next to Dary, he was going to miss Mairie the most. Did this mean it was all over with him? No, Dad had said he couldn't stop them meeting. That he still had Dary, to a limited extent, was some small consolation, but his life as he knew it was now over. He was out to his Dad; how the hell had that happened?!

He sighted the school a block or two ahead, a big old pile of bricks and mortar in three storeys, with creaking wooden stairs and floors which resounded when the students tramped over them. Big wide windows, a modern gymnasium tacked on back, surrounded on three sides by playing fields, both footy and rugger, and the front a park like landscape of grass and mature trees. Each Year of students had its designated patch in this park, and Marty was careful to skirt senior years' patches. The bike racks were located adjacent the gym, and he found a slot for his own.

"Heyyyy!!" he heard Dary's voice, and he turned right into Dary's arms, which went round him, face next to his own, nuzzling and hugging him oh so tightly. His boyfriend even managed an impudent, surreptitious kiss on his cheek. Okay, this answered the concern Marty had that maybe it might be all over with Dary; apparently not. His own arms snaked round his boyfriend, and he so wanted to kiss him, but contented himself with accepting Dary's nuzzles. Marty could hardly keep from sobbing again, but Dary's nice clean scent, slightly musky, smelled soooo good in his nostrils, the firmness of his body against his own a solid reassurance, and the litany of phrases the other boy uttered as they embraced, swaying together beside the bicycle racks.

"Well, if he wasn't out before, he will be now," someone remarked, and Marty looked over Dary's shoulder to see Robbie grinning ear to ear at him. "Hi, Rob," he said. Next to Dary, Rob was the best friend he had.

"Hey, Dary," he finally managed, and gently pushed Dary away. "Hey, yea, I missed you tons too, and I wondered what was goin' on and all, an' yea it's awesome to see you and thanks for the hugs and everything and…" And he stopped, just staring into Daryl's indigo eyes, that dark crop of curls over them, shorter now that Mairie had obviously inflicted a haircut on him, Marty's fingers in a tangle of hairs at Dary's elbows. "Hi Robbie, Joel," he acknowledged the other two boyfriends he knew here at school.

"Hey Marty, how ya doin'?" Rob came forward and hugged him too; Marty felt he had no choice but to return it. He glanced at Joel as he did, who gave him a grin and a thumbs up.

"Good, good to see you guys," Marty said. He disengaged from Rob, took the opportunity to feel the other boy's smooth arms as he did. "Yea, my worst fears… I'm out."

"You're … out?!" Rob gaped. "Are you seriously out?" Joel looked equally surprised, so it wasn't yet common knowledge, Marty guessed.

"His Dad knows," Dary reported, glancing swiftly at Marty.

"How?!" Marty almost howled, all the anger and frustration coming out in that one word.

Dary took a deep breath, for once looking extremely uncomfortable. "At the hospital, when you were coming back, from being unconscious," he said haltingly. His eyes darted every which way, but he made eye contact, saying, "Your Dad was there, and you were mumbling, muttering or something, but anyway, you spilled the beans, and he caught it. He'd left me on the beach with all our stuff while he went with you in the ambulance to the hospital, and later, after we got to a motel, he, well… confronted me with it." Dary shrugged, his head down, as if he had trouble facing him. "I couldn't very well deny it, seeing as he'd heard it all, so I had to admit it, Marty. Sorry man, but you know what he's like when he gets goin'…"

Marty sighed. Dary was right, he'd've had no chance against Dad. But a deep fright gripped his guts. "Did… did you tell him about, you know… ." and he glanced about for others lurking and listening but there were only Rob and Joel within earshot.

"Sleeping together? Well, no, not directly, but he sorta guessed. After all, we have shared beds, Marty. He knows that. Doesn't take a rocket scientist put that together. And he saw me kissing you at our barbecue."

"Oh shit, it figures," Marty groaned. "So he put it all together and now…"

"Yea, no more barbecues or surfing flights with us," Dary finished.

"Fuck!" Marty swore quietly. "This pisses me off!"

"Hey, at least you still have each other," Joel pointed out. "Did your Dad say 'stay away from him?'"

"Not in so many words," Marty admitted, glancing at Dary, "just that he's not supposed to be to our place, and I can't go to his…" and his eyes watered again and he was embarrassed and swiped them with an arm.

"Hey, I still love you, man," Dary said quietly. "It ain't over, Marty, okay? We'll just find other ways … Mom said to tell you there's still a place at our table for you. I don't have to tell you what that means."

Marty started and stared at his friend in surprise; so the Werlands were yet ready to welcome him; he should have known. "Yea, love you too," Marty said, wrapping Dary in another embrace, feeling immensely better for that bit of news. They had to break apart as the bell rang for them to go in.

***

First Day was usually easy; students and teachers assigned to classes during an assembly in the gym, followed by Homeroom with Mr. Weathers, where they received their schedules and timetables. All four friends immediately compared and discovered theirs were virtual copies. At least Marty would have his friends around him. Following homeroom was maths, and today, science, where they found they'd be starting with biology.

"Oh gods, DNAs and amoebas and god knows what else. Is it true they make us cut up worms and frogs?" Rob asked.

"Yea, but not til after mid-term break, then we get all that stuff," Joel said knowledgeably. He had a sister two years ahead of them, who did an admirable job of totally ignoring them. Though boys and girls attended different schools, the curriculums were almost identical. Following science was a short break, then English – this term compositions and book reports, and all four boys groaned. Marty actually didn't mind this part of the course; he could write easily and he had no problem doing research. Maybe one of his papers might be about flying? Or surfing?

"Don't do surfing," Dary laughed, "I heard Mrs. Tompkins got drowned in all the surfing papers last year, and she's gonna forbid it this year."

"Shit!" Rob exclaimed. "Next period's gym and I didn't bring my strip!"

"Guess who's runnin' laps round the field nakey!" Dary crowed.

"You wish, Werland," Rob retorted. "You first."

"He's too chicken," Joel said, green eyes twinkling behind his square glasses.

"Try me!" But Marty knew as well as Joel did Dary would never do it.

They were saved embarrassment by a simple address of a few moments from their Coach and gym instructor. "Sportsmanship above all," he began. "Co-operation, fitness, skills, exercise and camaraderie: those are the things of which sport and gym are made up. This term will be footie camp," and some of the boys cheered; Mr. Kelton had played National Level soccer for New Cumbria, half back and striker, and he knew his game. "We're also focusing on gymnastics for elasticity and agility," and there were groans.

"Loads of cal," Dary sighed, mimicking pushups and situps. "Should be declared unlawful; could your Dad help us with that?"

"Something to say, Mr. Werland?" Kelton asked.

"No sir, nothing sir," Dary put on his innocent face.

Mr. Kelton stared at him for a moment or two and then cautioned, "Don't try that again, young sir."

"Yes, sir."

They were finally released about mid-afternoon, or mid-arvo, and the four friends met up at their bikes.

"Let's head for the beach!" Joel suggested, and Marty's heart sank. It was a beauty day which should not be wasted by not going to the beach to catch a few waves.

"You guys go," he said. "I can't. I'm not cleared yet."

"No fun watching either," Dary pointed out. "Where's your Dad?"

Marty threw him a wary look, "At the airport, working on the Cessna," he said. He thought he knew what his friend was thinking but kept silent.

"Come to my place," Rob said generously. "Nobody's around until well after six. We got nearly three hours, come on!" Marty wasn't sure when Dad expected him home from school; last year, he was supposed to be home by four, but Marty wondered if he could push that half hour later, or even an hour. Some things just had to be tried.

They reached Rob's parents' home, a modest bungalow, the same type of house in which Marty and Rainer also lived, and Rob pointed Marty and Dary down some stairs. With a wide smile, he informed them, "You'll find everything you need down there." Dary flipped a light switch, but Rob turned it off again, "You won't want that on," he smiled, then beckoned Joel, "Come on!"

"Any bets what they're gonna do?" Dary smirked at Marty as they made their way down the stairs into a dimly lit basement.

"Probably make out?" Marty suggested naively, and even in the dimness he could see Dary's teeth flash at him.

"Just like we," he said. "Come on Mart, let's get naked!"

They found a very adequate couch at one end of the basement, dimly lit by several windows at ground level, above their heads. Dary had already discarded his tie, was unbuttoning his shirt, his belt, button and fly wide open, toeing his shoes off as he went. Marty dropped his pack and was soon naked, throwing himself onto the couch as Dary clambered on top of him, raining kisses all over Marty's face and neck, humming and mewing in absolute pleasure. Marty tried reciprocating but Dary this time was in total charge, his hands stroking all over, their penises finally meeting and the orgy of pleasure was on full bore.

"Last time I said, 'everything'," Dary said quietly, "so buddy, you get everything! Just lie there and take it…" So Marty did, lying quiescent except when an opportunity arose for a kiss, a caress, rubbing one of Dary's limbs, his bum, and a couple of times even managing to grasp his cock. Dary sucked him… nipples, stabbed his navel with his tongue, devoured his penis, pushed Marty's knees up and rimmed his bum; Marty squirming and writhing in nearly forgotten pleasures, his moans he was sure penetrating the ceiling above him where he was certain Joel and Rob were similarly engaged. What was Rob like to play with like this? He had to push that thought from his mind; he was sworn to Dary, as Dary was to him. He wasn't supposed to find that out.

"Hey, suxty-nine," Dary said, his voice penetrating Marty's reverie, and Marty caught his strong middle scent as Dary lowered himself onto him and his mouth sought Dary's penis. He found it with his hand, guided it in, and began lashing and lapping and swirling while Dary's similarly treated his own. Oh gods, here it came uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uhuh uh uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! And he spurt with wild abandon just as he felt Dary gush into his mouth, and he had to force himself to keep lapping, licking, swallowing despite his own pleasure almost consuming him, Dary's balls pressed against his chin, filling his nostrils with their scent. The afterplay went a little longer, but his cock was hypersensitive and he had push Dary away, and grab some breathing space.

He lay panting in pure pleasure, Dary righted himself and lay down on the wide couch beside him, arm around him, and they kissed again, quietly this time, without the abandon.

"I thought you'd be pissed at me," Dary eventually said.

"Why?"

"Well, not trying to keep the secret."

"You can't, not when Dad really wants to know," Marty said. "That time over Barracuda, he didn't really care, so we got away with it. Not this time, man. It's too important."

"Why doesn't he just leave it alone, like he did with her?" Dary asked plaintively.

"I think… he is," Marty replied slowly. "Like, he didn't say we can't see each other… I haven't got a school curfew…"

"Yet…" Dary offered. "I bet it's comin'. Didn't you have to phone him when you got home last year or something?"

"Yea, but that'll be easy, I can phone him from anywhere; he even said so. Doesn't have to be from home; just so's I call him. I just don't tell him where I am, sometimes...."

"Unless he asks, Dary smiled.

"Unless he asks."

The next few days, til the weekend, were tense between Marty and Rainer. Not quite eggshells tense, but nearly so. Marty felt as if he was 'on notice', a disciplinary method Rainer sometimes used with him when grounding was too much. Marty was expected to 'mind the rules without exception', home on time as expected, homework done without prodding, household chores completed in the same way, no disrespect or begging. Even though Dad hadn't directly said it, Marty behaved as if he had, until the subject of Dary and all things related simmered down and eventually went dormant. Dad didn't mention it again, and Marty was careful not to accidentally broach the subject with an anecdote. Which was harder than he expected; how could you have intelligent conversations without mentioning your friends? So he talked about Rob, or Joel (tactfully omitting that they were boyfriends too) and other happenings from school.

Saturday finally dawned, and Marty gazed at his dad over breakfast in the same way Dad sometimes stared at him, until he elicited the response, "What? What's on your mind?"

"Surfing. Doctor. Clearance, so I can play sports at school too. Today, Dad. Please?"

"Are you sure you're ready?" Rainer asked doubtfully.

"It's been four weeks, Dad," Marty reminded him. "What did the Cape Palms doctor say? Three weeks?"

"Three weeks symptom-free, Marty."

"Which I have been," Marty insisted. "No headaches," and he ticked the points off on his fingers, "No double vision, ever! No maziness, I can tie my own tie now. Stuff at school like maths are getting easier; it was kinda tough at first, but it's okay now. Please Dad! Or, I'll go myself."

"No need for that," Rainer said easily, rising and gesturing to the table full of breakfast dishes. "Your turn to get those. When you're done, we'll go to the clinic."

"Awesome!"

He endured the doctor's office, the flashlight bright in his eyes, the ear scope, the questions, which he dutifully answered honestly, and the doctor ran a stethoscope over his chest and back, took his blood pressure, but thankfully didn't decide he needed to poke Marty's arm for blood.

"This was from surfing," he mused, looking at the boy over his glasses.

"Yes, sir," Marty said.

"Wear a helmet from now on," Dr. Hamilton instructed; Marty noticed the absence of the words, 'I suggest'. Doctors, like sergeants in the police or elsewhere, Marty guessed, could say things like this; there was an automatic authority attached to them, and he knew ignoring such advice was probably not in his best interests. "Once you've had a concussion, and yours was moderate to severe," and his eyes bored on Marty so he almost ducked the gaze, "so the chances of a recurrence are higher with you than might otherwise be. A helmet may not prevent another one, but it will keep it from being as devastating another time. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Marty acknowledged, nodding earnestly.

"We'll get him fitted today," Rainer said firmly.

Yea, cool, Marty thought; he'd be catching waves anytime now.

"And you're good to go at school for sports activities, as well," the doctor added.

Marty beamed; and to Rainer, he looked like his old self again.

The new helmet also included new rashie clothes – special polymer shirt and shorts which shielded his body from sun, water, sand and other surfing hazards; his old ones had been pretty ripped and torn in the accident and Dad had discarded them. The helmet was scarlet, and in all Dad spent nearly $200 getting him back on the water.

"Thank-you, Dad, for everything," Marty said as they walked out to the Bronco, Marty's bags rustling. "I'm sorry I've been such a bother."

"Well, accidents happen, I suppose," Rainer replied, unlocking the vehicle. "It's not as if I haven't had a few myself. Just… be careful out there for the first little while, okay? Take it easy, ease back into it, and dammit, you wear that helmet when you're on the water! I don't care what anybody else says, even if you're the only kid on the beach wearing one, you wear it! I catch you without it, I'll ground you a month!"

Marty smarted a bit from the vehemence of Dad's warning, and he managed a weak, "No problem! I promise." He didn't relish the thought of a month's grounding; that'd be dire. And too, he thought, some of that harshness had to be over Dary.

***

Lists went up on the school bulletin boards for teams; Rob and Dary both signed for school soccer team tryouts, but Marty knew he was nowhere good enough and settled for a house team. Even here though, despite it being said "regardless of skill level," he was made to feel inadequate. Though he'd played some league footy last year and in Oregon, it seemed his skill set in the game was severely lacking around kids who'd been playing since they could walk. He could boot a ball well enough but he didn't seem to understand strategy very well. In fact, he had wondrous long kick, which nearly earned him a goalkeeper's position, had he wanted to play there, but he opted for full or half back, depending what he could wrangle. But his passing was inadequate, he couldn't tackle without tripping the other player, which earned him some warnings, and anyone could steal a ball from him. It was just so frustrating. So he turned to his friends for help.

"Yea, you're a bit pathetic," Rob said sympathetically after observing him one day at practise. "Guess we'll have to bring you along. How about some days after school?"

"Beauty," Marty grinned, "so long as it doesn't interfere with surfing."

"Or our games," Dary chimed in. Both he and Rob wore school colours playing against other schools.

"Come to our place," Marty suggested, and Dary looked at him gravely.

"Is that wise?"

"So long as Dad doesn't see you, how's he to know?"

"You're a braver man than I," Dary said, shaking his head. "Don't forget that time he almost sneaked up on us last summer," he added, and Marty laughed.

"What, were you two making out in the back yard or something?" Joel asked shrewdly.

"Almost," Marty grinned. "Wrestling naked."

"Oh that'd go over well!" Rob laughed.

"We were afraid he'd seen us when he called us out," Marty said soberly, "but it was over something else."

"We'll go home and change," Joel suggested, "meet you guys in half an hour."

"So, tackles," Dary said. "Just like everything else in footy, keep your eye on the ball! That's where your foot will go; if you're looking at the other guy's feet, you'll be sure to trip him."

"Sometimes," Rob added, "I look a little ahead of the ball, because by the time my foot gets there, the ball and the feet have moved. So, I always try to figure where he's gonna be when I get there. Doesn't always work," he added with a shrug, "but most times it pays off."

"Start with watching the ball first," Joel suggested, "and then work on predicting later. Okay, Marty, tackle me! Remember, watch the ball!"

The other three boys seemed to have a dexterity with that football unlike any he'd ever seen before; Rob and Dary's feet were so fluid they managed to keep the ball away from him so as to prevent Marty even contacting.

"Hey, no fair!" he exclaimed at one point, exasperated. "You guys are so much better than me, I can't get near you!"

"Hey, if you can tackle us," Dary pointed out, "you'll have no problem with guys you're playing against."

"No Dary, Marty's right," Joel piped up. "Quit the fancy stuff and let him get to the ball. That's what we're trying to teach him. We'll get to defending tackles once he's good at it."

So Marty got better, finally able to poke and stab the football away from their feet without the sin of tripping them up, and thus avoiding a penalty call. The other boys gradually increased the speed and dexterity, so that by the end of the session, he felt more confident. Shirts had come off in the muggy atmosphere, and Marty hugged all three of his friends, their skin on his marvellous as his arms went round Joel, then Rob and finally Dary.

"Thanks loads, guys! You've no idea how much I appreciate this!"

"Go to Mr. K's footy camp," Rob suggested. "It's worth it, Marty. Believe me. You'll learn lots from him; he's a pro! Played for New Cee, man! And you'll get lots of practise."

"But we'll help too," Joel smiled, winking. "I don't mind those hugs afterwards, you know!"

They were alerted by a roar approaching from above and south of them. "Dary! Get under the shelter!" Marty said urgently, and his boyfriend raced for the patio, making it just in time before the Legend appeared over the trees and waggled its wings at them.

"Time for me to go!" Dary said, coming to Marty, hugging him quickly and giving him a kiss. "Tomorrow at school: see ya, love."

"Yea, love ya," Marty replied, and watched with mixed feelings as Dary dashed on his bike down the drive and turned away from the direction Rainer would come.

Marty and Joel came off the footy field Friday afternoon sweaty and tired after one of Mr Kelton's instructional camps. Today it had been passing, passing ahead, back, sideways, always being sure of hitting your target. Of course, your target had to co-operate by being where you sent the ball when it arrived, so the simple strategy was to pass it ahead while the receiver jogged to the ball. Missed passes were forfeit to push-ups; not a few of which Marty was awarded as much as anyone else. Aside from learning the skills and gaining confidence from the camps, Marty was also much relieved in the realization he was really no worse than any of the others attending these sessions with him. It had just seemed that way to him, but now the players were separated into their individual skill levels, Marty was heartened to find his improvement could be measured alongside the others.

"Surfing tomorrow?" Joel asked, as they wiped themselves down on towels they'd brought with them.

"Yea, my Dad's gonna be there; dunno how that's gonna work out with Dary being there too."

"Hey, it's a public beach, Dary can be there if he wants to. Why is your Dad coming?" Joel asked, somewhat obtusely.

"He wants to help me ease back into it after my concussion; that's why he hasn't let me come before now. First few times he wants to be there with me to make sure I'm not doing anything crazy."

"That didn't stop you getting hurt the last time," Joel pointed out.

"That was me," Marty admitted. "I miscalculated that wave and boy did we pay for it! I'm surprised Dary didn't get anything more than a few cuts and bruises."

"Better maybe he didn't," Joel pointed out. "I heard tell Dary's Dad wasn't all that impressed with you guys after that day. It was his Mum who saved it for you two."

"Auntie Mairie's a saint" Marty said sincerely. "I probably love her as much as I do Dary."

"Are you going to the game tomorrow?" Joel asked; their school was playing a cross town rival on their home pitch.

"Try to," Marty said. "Somebody has to be here to cheer them on."

Saturday was low clouds, muggy, threatening rain. Marty's clothes clung to him in the humid air, and he found himself wishing he was at the beach, wet and cool and not soaking in sweat inside his tee and shorts. His school was making short work of the rival team; now nearing the end of the second half, they were up three nil, and merely playing keep away with the ball to run the clock out. "Passing practise," Dary had called it at the half, "without the push ups if it's missed," he added with a grin. Checking his watch, Marty realized there were barely three minutes remaining, and he was relieved. The turnout of spectators was small, but his friends had warned him it would be. The only time the school turned out was for the finals, if they happened to make it that far.

Someone blew on a vuvuzela marking the end of the game, and players gathered midfield for the traditional handshakes then jogged to their respective sides. Marty met Dary at field side with congratulations, and they shared a quick hug. "Going surfing?" Dary asked again, as if the question hadn't already been settled yesterday.

"Dad's going to be there," Marty reminded him.

"So? He'll just have to suck it up," Dary replied. "This so sucks! I know, it's not your fault, not anybody's. But we gotta settle it, man. Somehow…"

"Are either of your parents coming?" Marty asked but Daryl shook his head.

"Mum's at another of her craft sales and Dad's off somewhere again with some mates. I've no idea where or what they're doing. I'll meet ya at the beach, okay? See ya later."

"Yea, later," Marty said, picking up his bike.

"As we're just going for the afternoon, I won't pack a lunch," Dad said. "We'll have barbecue when we get back."

"Yea, okay," Marty replied and went to retrieve their surf boards from the barn down the yard.

The beaches were crowded when they arrived, tourist season not yet ended and it seemed as if most of the locals had claimed a spot on the sands as well. Marty finally found enough space to spread their beach blanket, and he marked the spot against a shelter a few yards behind them, hoping he could spot it from the water's edge.

Rob and Joel loomed up just as he got the blanket spread. "Thought we saw you pull in," Joel said with a smile. "Think your Dad will mind if we share your spot?"

"Ummm… I hope not, here he comes. Dad, this is Rob, and Joel, friends from school. I've told you about them," Marty said as Rainer approached, already changed and ready for the water.

"Hello, boys," Rainer smiled, and shook hands solemnly with each of them.

Marty opened his new kit bag, his pack was no longer large enough with his new helmet. Marty pulled on his new rash shirt, then changed his shorts; noticing how much easier it was changing with the other two boys, now in the knowledge they all shared the same lifestyle. He wasn't embarrassed in public anymore, and even Dad's sometimes disapproving presence didn't mar that.

He pulled his helmet from the bag, checking it over then donning it too. Dad helped with the chin strap, the double-D fastener a bit awkward at first.

"Cool brain pot!" Rob grinned, tugging up his surfing shorts, and Marty glanced in appreciation at him. Behind Rob, Joel stood sorting his shorts and shirt out, his longer, thicker penis hanging heavily between his thighs.

Oh my! Marty breathed silently at this sight of Joel again; he always marvelled at Joel's build. Omg! As if he'd never seen either of his friends undressed in a locker room.

Then Dary appeared. He made his approach in the same nonchalant manner he always employed, and Marty wondered if he ever felt uneasy, even slightly afraid, because he rarely ever showed it.

"Hi," he smiled, glancing round at Marty, Joel and Robbie. "Is this where we're…?"

"You can just find somewhere else," Rainer told him, with his direct glare and Dary looked startled, his face darkening and he finally reddened. He hesitated, as if he were about to object, come out with one of the quips for which he was well known, but the stormy look on Rainer's face halted him. He abruptly turned away, hunted for a few moments, then moved a few yards off and spread his towel. Joel finished dressing, then picked up his surfboard and kit bag, and went to join him. Rob muttered, "Sorry," and moved to follow. And just as neatly as they'd joined him, his friends left him solitary while they went in support of Dary.

Marty watched them go, his eyes smarting, and a terrible pull tore at his heart. Up to that moment, he'd never hated his father's attitudes as much as he did then. He too hesitated, unsure if he dared take the plunge, but his friendships at this moment were more important to him than appeasing his father in his outmoded thinking.

He picked up his board and kit bag and without a backward glance, walked over to Dary, Joel and Rob. "Is there room for me too?"

End of Book One. Stay tuned for more.