New School Blues

By: John Bowling
(© 2011 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 2 

We retired to my room and Greg helped me unpack the boxes of clothes. He was pulling stuff out and I was putting it away, more like robots than people.

It didn't take long, until ...

"Ah, perving out on me?" He was holding up a magazine and pointing at a built guy in a swim suit on the cover.

"Yea, when the real thing is not available! Which has been a lot, lately. Besides, he's hotter than you."

"No way! We will do something about the real thing so you don't have to handle things by hand."

"Are you suggesting that I do that?"

"Yeah, more than just a suggestion, and so do I, a lot."

"Well, once I get a decent, reliable boyfriend."

"Yeah, if only. We can do it together!" Greg looked at me and I noticed his blue eyes smiling at me.

"Perhaps, eventually. But we can be good friends until …"

“If not, I'll have to do some ass whipping. Oops, that didn't come out right. We'll do that after ...”

“Keep it up, pun-ny boy, and ...”

“Yea, I will, with a gorgeous man to help.”

"Good thing Sara's not here with us!"

"No three ways! And that is final, even before we get to our first two way."

We continue with the unpacking, and were complete with my room that evening, as well done as if I had been here for years.

"OK, what's next?"

“You're sleeping here tonight!” I told him. He wrapped his arms around me. "Think you can handle being that close and not doing anything? Tomorrow, we'll finish the living room and kitchen things."

“Do you think I would leave when I can lock you in my cuddle jail and hold tight all night? Got to make sure you won't do anything improper during the night. And I don't want to be home alone tonight!”

Just then my phone rings, and it's Sara. I put it on speaker.

"Just checking to see if you guys are still arguing."

"No, and we've decided on no three ways." Greg said.

"You won't make me the filling in your sandwich?"

"Not even if you grow another appendage. We'll just have to be friends. Besides, we are going to put off our wedding night for a while, till we get more used to each other."

"And we resolve the differences."

"And I'll have to be mother to two argumentative, horny guys!"

"We haven't argued at all since school. Disagreed some, but not argued."

"Good. Now just kiss, hug, and make up. See you two guys, happy together, in school Monday."

I walked over to Greg and planted one. It felt good.

“Where's the fun in just lying there sleeping?”

“And me lying here with a pry bar? You too."

It took a while but I finally got to sleep. This guy I was really mad at is right here, willing and able to be my boyfriend and I almost blew it. I promised myself I’d do some real blowing soon, with gusto, oh man, perhaps sooner than he expects. And then I dreamed about it, me swapping cream filling with this good looking hunk who has his strong arms, Yea! locking me into his cuddle jail.

Saturday morning, I woke up and looked over at the best looking guy I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. Greg opened one eye and smiled.

"Look, man, I'm sorry for all the problems last week. Please forgive me for all the things I did and didn't do then." He rolled to face me, and his morning wood slapped my hip, as he planted a wet one on my cheek. 'Nice!' I thought, and then noticed the dampness in my shorts. I knew I had a dream about him last night, obviously wet.

"It would have helped if I hadn't got mad about everything, and a lot of it was my fault. I started the week before not wanting to move, and then expecting school to start tomorrow, just like back home. That and with all the stuff that happened at my last school, and expecting something just as bad to eventually happen here. So I apologize for being such a weirdo."

"Do you want to talk about what did happen, My gorgeous, hot, cute weirdo?"

"No, but I guess I better. I had a friend there whom I considered a boyfriend. We occasionally did some things together, a little beyond just goofing around.  Last summer, he went on a trip with some of his friends. The way they told the story after they came back, he drowned while they were swimming in the Pacific Ocean.

"The next week, a rumor was going around about me being gay, and I got some threats. Then a few weeks later his body was recovered by Coast Guard divers, and he had what appeared to be stab wounds. There was never enough evidence, so nothing was done about it. I know they found out about him, and made assumptions about me.

"When my Dad's promotion came through, we moved. He works for an Internet sales company that's putting in a warehouse here and Dad's now the C.O.O. of this division."

"So you moved from one mess into another mess? I don't think so. Not if I have any say about it! It's not perfect here, and the school does have it's share of students with rich parents, so there is a hierarchy of levels we are expected to be in. Take me as an example. My Dad is a Corporate Lawyer and my Mother is a Doctor of Neurology, so we are almost at the top level. I hate it. They want me to go to the highest rated private school in town, and I would rather be with people I can get along with, especially a weirdo like you.

"Anyway, that guy I mentioned to your parents was a good friend for years who became my boyfriend. We met in Kindergarten and stayed friends up to a couple of months ago. His Dad is a factory worker, a carpenter, and his Mother is a waitress at a Diner along the highway. Which made him about the lowest class in town. Other kids were constantly picking on him when I wasn't around. A couple of months ago I got an email that said he was leaving and he would contact me again when he found himself.

"I have yet to hear anything and that keeps me from wanting to commit myself fully to someone. Perhaps someday."

I put my arms around Greg, and hugged him tight.

"Are you willing to still be good friends? We both need to get some recovery completed before either of us commit to being boyfriends. And we can both help each other recover. And perhaps a little playing around?"

"Yup, but we now have a day in front of us. Breakfast?"

"Coffee, tea, or me? Just kidding. I know of a diner that does super breakfasts."

"The one where your last boyfriend's mother works? Too bad this isn't Chicago. The Golden Griddle Pancake House has fabulous blueberry pancakes."

"One in the same. The diner and his mothers, I mean."

"So let's go, I'm starving and we haven't had any refreshments this morning."

"And I wanted a Mike shake to start my day! But it looks as if you wasted it already."

"Apparently your cuddle jailing me last night caused me to dream, at least a wet dream! So it's your fault I can't make a big Mike shake this morning. Besides, even if we apologized, we have still not fully made up for last week. Soon..."

"I guess I'll just have to wait, but make sure you save it for me! And if you are dreaming about me, you must be getting over the angry. I'll have to make sure I deserve that. K, let's go and you can meet my previous boyfriend's mom."

I spoke to my Mom telling her where we were going, then Greg drove us over to the diner. Located at the highway exit, it was an old railroad dining car that now had an attachment in the rear for an expanded kitchen. Just down the road was an old Pullman sleeper that was part of a small motel.

"Well... Where is the rest of the train? And there's no tracks."

"Progress, with a bit of nostalgia thrown in. My granddad worked for the railroad, and he got the cars when they were downsizing. The rails did go right through here, but they removed most of them for the highway. My uncle still owns the motel. It's what he calls a retirement retreat, or RR for short."

"Looks a bit run down, but I bet it would be fun to stay a night in the old sleeper."

"It's real close quarters for two in one bunk."

"I was counting on that. Now let's go have breakfast."

We went in and sat down. They still had some of the old seats that had been recovered in the last few years. Looking out the windows and seeing the automobiles going by on the highway was interesting, and made it easy to imagine the dining car as part of a train traveling with scenery going by.

A middle-aged woman walked up, carrying a pad, and pulled a pen out from above her ear.

"Greg, good to see you again. Has Tramp gotten in touch with you? We have not heard from him."

"No, Alice, I haven't heard anything."

"Tramp?" I asked.

"Stan. He loved trampolines, so Tramp became his nickname. He used to spend hours on the one he had at home. Kept his legs in great shape."

"I'm sure he will get back in touch soon. Who's your friend?"

"Sorry, Mike is new at school, having just moved here. His dad is going to run the Internet shipping warehouse when it's complete."

"Welcome, Mike. Stick with Greg. He's a good guy as well as being a bit weird. Our breakfast special is Scrambles, that's two eggs scrambled with crumbled bacon, cheese, mushrooms, and whatever the cook wants to toss into it."

"I think I can handle Greg's strangeness. Can't be any worse than mine. Toss in, whatever?"

"Not really, it has toast and fried potato with onions on the side, and some of that gets into the eggs when my husband is cooking."

"It's good that way. I mix it up myself if it isn't premixed. Bring both of us the special, and if Mike doesn't like it, I'll stuff it in him."

"OK, two scramble specials, with juice and coffee. Greg, if you let this one get away, I'll have to paddle your behind."

"Yes, Mom. I'm going to keep him in my cuddle jail."

"Jeez, boys! Sometimes I wonder how you survive!" We both laughed at that as she walked back to put the order in.

"You know, sitting in this dining car, I wish we could have taken the train to get here instead of driving. Too bad most of the tracks they put in years ago are either torn up or in bad shape."

"There is a section of tracks near here that's still intact. I saw them when I was visiting my cousin, Jim. It's fenced off and not used anymore."

"Do you think ..."

"Yea, with our money! About ten feet of track!"

"Well, I guess that's never going to be a dream come true."

"Did they do that musical at your last school? They are talking about doing it here."

"Well, I can dream about a relationship with a hot guy! Even if I can't do anything with trains or sing. We gotta do something else for romance!"

"Become river boat gamblers?"

"Yup, it's really romantic to have a mean character push a pistol into your face and accuse you of cheating."

"Then you come riding in as my knight in shining armor."

"You sure know how to mix the metaphors!"

"Oh, Oh. Just when we are having fun..." Sara walked in.

"OK, you two, Are you two going to learn to get along or do I have too ..."

"Stick your nose in?"

"And get it chopped by those swords? Honestly, I can't leave you two for a minute!"

"OK, Greg, let's take our swords and resolve this. Jeez, we're now the Two Musketeers."

"Well, you guys have lucked out. I'm here with my parents so I have to be decent. Later."

"'Bout time!"

"She's not as bad as it seems. Other than when she gets all huggy and kissy, like we should be."

"Want to go out and look at those tracks?"

"Will your uncle let us?"

"We can go check. What else have we got to do?"

"OK, lead the way, McDuff."

"The real quote is 'Lay on, Macduff', from Macbeth."

We drove out there, and spoke with Jasper, Greg's Uncle. He was fine with us looking around, and walked over to the fence with us.

"Uncle Jasper, has anyone been around here lately? It looks like fresh ground dug up over there by the tracks."

"It sure does. The grass has grown up around most of the other area, but that area has had the soil turned at least."

"Can we go in and check that out?"

"It looks like we all better. Call Jim and have him bring out some shovels and Rex and I'll call the Sheriff."

"The Sheriff?"

"Yes, if someone dug there, they were probably burying something, so the Sheriff needs to be here."

They didn't enter the fenced-in area until the Sheriff arrived, which didn't take long, just speculating about what was buried there.

"Could a wild dog get in there and bury a bone or something?" Mike asked.

"Rex would be on a wild dog in a minute and really raise a ruckus. Look at the way he wants to get in there now," Jim said. Rex was barking and pawing trying to find a way past the fence.

"That dirt looks like it was freshly turned, so this probably happened early this morning," Jasper pointed out.

Mike and especially Greg, avoided the thought that was on their minds, and none of them mentioned it.

Finally, the Sheriff arrived, with a deputy.

"I'm Sheriff Jack McGuire and this is Deputy Angus Smith. Is that the fresh dirt? Angus, go in and start checking it out. Has anyone been in here doing anything?"

"No, we never go in there, and the fence was put up so no one stumbled into there and got hurt."

Angus opened the gate in the chain link fence, which had originally been held closed with a chain and a padlock. The padlock was cut off and was laying on the ground, and the chain just looped over a wire in the fence. Then Sheriff McGuire checked for finger prints and didn't find any on the padlock and chain, while Deputy Smith went in and pulled dirt away from the mound with just hands and work gloves.

"There is something soft here." A few seconds later, the Sheriff announced, "It's a body!" As many as could gather around helped dig with their hands, and uncovered most of a young person who appeared to be male. A lump on the back of the head indicated a blow that had knocked him unconscious or even killed him. His head was down but they noticed slight rhythmic movement in the chest area, so they could tell he was still breathing shallowly.

"He's still alive. Call the hospital now!"  Somehow, there was sufficient trapped air in the area around his face, so he survived. There did not seem to be any other injuries.

"Tell the hospital we are bringing him in, and get that oxygen tank from the trunk over here." Jasper did so.

They quickly removed dirt around his face, and then unburied him completely, while releasing a light stream of oxygen into the area, then together gently checked for any broken bones. Finding none, they lifted him and laid him on the back seat of the sheriff's car. Greg and Mike volunteered to sit on the floor with the oxygen tank and keep him from sliding off the seat while Angus drove with sirens blaring. They made sure the oxygen tank valve was just cracked, so it released slowly, a few inches from his mouth so he didn't get pure oxygen.

"Well?" Mike asked.

"Well what?"

"Is he Tramp?"

"No, and I'm really glad of that. I'm also glad we went over to look at the tracks this morning so he could be rescued, poor kid."

"I sure hope he survives. It's a miracle there was enough trapped air so he didn't suffocate. If he's not Tramp, do you know who he is?"

"It'll be hard to tell until he gets cleaned up, but he doesn't look like anyone I know."

"Man, this is terrible. Who would do a thing like this, and why? What could a young guy like him have done to deserve this?"

They pulled into the hospital emergency room and the staff got the teen out of the ambulance and began the examination and clean up, with a proper breathing air tank, and fluids by intravenous drip chamber to provide fluids. The typical CT scan was done to check the head injury. Greg gave the hospital his cell phone number, asking them to please call him and to call the Sheriff, because he had said that he wanted to come check on the teen. The hospital issued them out, saying that it would be hours before he was able to have friends around. Angus drove them back.

"Greg," Mike said, "for a hot guy, you certainly care about people! Keep this up and you're going to have a whirlwind romance followed by permanent partner status."

"Is that a proposal? What happened to pissed at everybody, especially me, angry Mike?"

"I found out you are a really nice guy, not the jerk I though you were. And I really need a good, hot, friend who wants to ...."

"Guys, I don't care what you do with each other at home, but no one gets to christen this car."

"OK, we'll hold off for now."

****************

Meanwhile, the Sheriff was checking everything out at the scene. He had at least an attempted murder case here, and solving it would get him recognized. Together with Jasper and Jim, and with Rex sniffing things out, they found a shovel and work gloves that appeared to have been quickly discarded. They removed all the loose dirt trying to find any evidence. A few little things were found, some spikes that the railroad used and an old broach.

Jim was looking at the area where the teen's face had been, curious about how enough air was trapped to keep him alive. He found a small opening, and, using a flashlight, noticed it went back in and got larger.

"What do you guys make of this? It looks like there is a big hole here under the tracks."

"Can we open it up without destroying any historical value?"

"If there is evidence there, that is more important than the history."

"If we do open it up, we have to make sure that it will not collapse."

"The tracks might help in that."

"We have to do any excavation slowly and have items that will support the walls as we go."

"Before we do that, I'm going to check the other side of the tracks. I'm curious about something," Jasper said, and walked around.

They followed and noticed what looked like root cellar doors that were almost hidden by tall grasses. There were places where the grass was bent or broken, and some crushed, making a path.

"Yup, I was right. It looks as if they had a storage place here. I'm sure it's heavily reinforced below the tracks."

"We should check it for evidence."

"How could we not have known this was here?"

"That fence has been there for about twenty years, and there is that row of trees as a windbreak between here and the road that helped hide it. And your orchard grove between here and your house.

"That would also hide someone doing the foul deed from anyone seeing. Sheriff, this is on my property, and I am giving you permission to do a search of this whole area, and under the tracks. Whatever we can do to help that kid."

They checked the root cellar doors and found they were not locked and they opened easily without squeaking hinges.

"They opened too easily to have not been used for several years." The Sheriff turned on his LED flashlight and they looked inside. There were a few blankets, a backpack, and a half dozen cans of food and some pans, a small Hibachi grill with cans of Sterno® fuel, and utensils. They also discovered some heavy wood beams across the top of the room that looked like they were added after the rails were built.

"Looks like someone was living in here. Initially, I would expect it was the teen. Does anyone recognize any of this stuff as missing?"

"No, but we keep a good supply of canned food for those times we can't get into town, and we don't inventory it. If that kid had been kicked out of his home, this place would be a usable substitute. And I have no problem if he took things to survive."

"That doesn't explain why he got beat up," Sheriff McGuire pondered aloud, to no one and to anyone.

"Check the backpack for ID," Jasper said. "To identify him, that's not an improper search."

"True." The Sheriff opened it, and found a wallet with a couple of pictures and a student ID. The ID is for the high school in Oskaloosa, Iowa, and the student's name is Douglas Klein. "I'll run this through the computers when I get back to the office."

By then, Deputy Smith was back with Mike and Greg.  Greg said he had requested the hospital call him and the Sheriff when they knew more of the status of the teen. So far, he was listed as critical, with a concussion. The hospital was to have one of their security guards stationed outside his room when the medical staff was not close by.

Looking around, Deputy Smith spotted a pipe that had some hair with blood and some skin on it. "Looks as if we have found the weapon that was used. I'm checking for fingerprints and will take the remains for DNA testing."

Again, no fingerprints were found on the pipe. Deputy Smith bagged the gloves they found so they could test them for DNA on anything left inside.

A couple of hours later, the Sheriff and Deputy would be leaving after they locked the gate back up with better chain and locks, then wrapped the fenced area with yellow tape. They also put a couple of battery-operated video cameras with motion-detector recorders in place. "We may have to come back and check some more, so we can't have it disturbed for now."

The hospital called, and Dave was awake. "Dave?" Sheriff McGuire asked.

"That's the name he gave us."

Greg and Mike, along with Jim said they would go to the hospital to check on Doug. The Sheriff would meet them there after he did his preliminary report and ran Doug's name.

On the way to the hospital, Greg did the 'official' introductions between Mike and Jim, who immediately started asking questions.

"So you're the one everybody in school is talking about. You don't look that weird."

"I'm not. Greg here went overboard on his reaction."

"Well, you did put on nail polish and dyed your hair!"

"OK, so I tinted my hair, and washed most of it out that night. What would this little town be if there weren't something to gossip about?"

"Yea, like we have strange characters moving here all the time?"

"Well, now you have Doug to gossip about, and you probably won't treat him any better."

"Mike, just make sure you treat Greg right. He may look like a tough guy, but he really is a decent guy. You two will make a great couple even if you do argue a lot over nothing." They looked at each other and grinned. They all left the sheriff to finish his investigation, and went to check on Doug.

They got to the hospital, and they went to the room where Doug was currently resting. The Doctor would only let them talk to him for ten minutes, and said he had a concussion and that would affect his memory. He was awake, but not feeling really yippy skippy, and he viewed the three teens skeptically.

"Where am I?"

"In the hospital in Lakewood, Iowa."

"We found you by some old railroad tracks."

"Sorry if I don't remember things."

"Do you remember your name?"

"Ah... Dave."

"Dave? Do you know Doug Klien?"

"He's my twin brother."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Oskaloosa."

"How about today's date?"

"It's, ahh... September... 2011?"

To be continued...

Editor's Notes:

Okay, I really like this story. The guys are getting along really well, and there is actually a plot. I like the way people are talking.  It isn't stuffy, or too scholarly. It is very much the way real people talk.

I definitely want more!

Darryl AKA The Radio Rancher

Posted: 12/30/11