Rob looked at Nate. “Why do you think my story is frightening?”

“The part about the kid getting kicked out and having to prostitute himself on the street. Jesus, if I ever got kicked out I don’t know what I’d do. Couldn’t he have gone to Child Protective Services?”

“He could have, but he’s seventeen. He probably wouldn’t get placed with a foster family because of his age, and he’ll age out at eighteen. To be helped by CPS you have to be under eighteen.”

“Aren’t there shelters for homeless kids in Oklahoma?”

“Not many. Almost all of them are run by religious organizations and aren’t friendly to gay kids like Lane. Some are daycare only, so there’s no place to sleep at night. Occupy Oklahoma provides shelter for some of the homeless kids, but they have to participate in demonstrations and marches. Lane’s problem is he couldn’t get a job because he didn’t have a permanent address nor the money to rent an apartment. Then when he hooked up with Jake he discovered it was only for sex.”

“His family never went looking for him?”

“No, just his brother. But remember, this is a story — it’s fiction — and none of it is true.”

“You could have fooled me. It’s so freaking realistic. Rob, I don’t think I’ll ever forget this story. It’s really powerful. It does sound autobiographical, like you lived what happened.”

“Thank God, no, I didn’t live what happened. It’s all from my imagination based on stuff I’ve read online.”

Nate handed the story back to Rob. “You should submit it to one of those literary magazines. I think it’s at least that good. You should also expand it to a full length novel. If it ends up as good as this short story you’ll be able to get a publisher.”

Rob smiled. I could see his enthusiasm about our reaction to his story.

“I agree with Nate. This is a great story. Just wait until Mrs. Ocampo reads it. I think she’ll be pleased and excited and complimentary. You are a really good writer, Rob. Congratulations,” I told him.

Rob grinned. “Okay, enough of this lovefest. We have Spanish to do.”

“I thought we were waiting for the pizza to arrive.”

“Oh. I forgot. Well, we could start on our Spanish translations until the pizza guy gets here. How’s that?”

“Sounds like something you guys should do,” I told him. “I’m going to get back to reading my new AP European History Exam book and see what’s likely to come up in class over the next few weeks.”

That’s what we did. The pizza didn’t arrive for another half hour, and when Mom paid for it she got a coupon for a free pizza because they were so late with the delivery. Cool.

We finished the pizza and three cokes each, worked on our homework, chatted about school stuff so I could get caught up with the latest gossip and rumors like who was dating whom, and how the basketball team was doing. Then there were the questions about how I was doing, so I gave them a quick update including when I’d see the doctor next and when my cast would come off. They asked about the trial, and I told them that I’m scheduled for the prosecution deposition on Friday. Rob asked how I liked being home schooled, and I explained that it was home tutoring and the difference, and that I had two tutors and the subjects they were helping me with.

Rob checked his watch. “Hey, I’ve got to get going. We’re going out to dinner tonight with my aunt and uncle. They’re visiting from Kansas City, and my attendance is not optional. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“You’re coming over tomorrow?”

“No, I thought... damn, I was expecting you to be at school, Brian. Except for the broken arm and that bandage above your ear, you look great. Normal. I forgot that you can’t go to school.”

“Yeah, that sucks big time. I have to be checked regularly, and if everything’s okay I’ll be able to go back in the fall.”

“I sure hope so. Well, I gotta run. Nate, I’ll see you at school tomorrow. It was great working together on our homework. I’ll see myself out, Brian.”

After Rob left I turned to Nate. ”You want to stick around for dinner?”

“No thanks. Like Rob I need to get home. I have to do my laundry tonight. My mom’s got me washing and ironing my clothes. Says I need the experience when I go to college. Besides, I already had breakfast and lunch here. It’s a bit much to ask your folks to feed me dinner, too.”

“You know how much my folks like you, Nate. Like Dad said this morning, you can come over any time you want. And besides, you and I are best friends forever.”

Nate smiled. “Thanks, man. You are absolutely my B.F.F.”

He grabbed me in a hug, being careful about my arm, then kissed me. On the lips. Oh My God, he kissed me on my lips. It was freakin’ amazing. I, of course, kissed him back. He pulled away, putting his hands on my shoulders.

“That proves how I feel about you, Brian. I love you, man. As my B.F.F. The kiss was to show you that it’s a true love, between best friends. You’re not freaking. I guess you’re okay with me kissing you.”

“No.” Nate looked... afraid, I guess is the best way to describe his expression. “You didn’t kiss me. We kissed each other. As best friends. You’re gay, I’m straight. And I don’t see anything wrong with us kissing to show our friendship.”

I couldn’t believe how happy Nate looked. “You, Brian Anderson, are the best friend I could ever hope to have.”

“True that!” I laughed.

“Brian, I just remembered something. Can you remember when you called me a perv, and I said when you knew me better you’d find out how true that was? Well, don’t get comfortable because you don’t know me better enough to know.” He grinned.

I was confused. What was Nate telling me? Then I got it. His kiss wasn’t what he meant about knowing him better.

“There’s more to come? Oh god, I’m in so much trouble now.” I grabbed my crotch with my right hand and pulled my legs together. “Am I going to have to protect my family jewels?”

“Probably.”

I started to laugh, and Nate joined in.

“You’re a funny guy, Nate Mead. If you don’t make it as an orthopedic surgeon you can go onstage as a comedian.”

“That’s a good idea. And with that, I’m going to head home to do a scullery maid’s work.”

“Uh, Nate?”

“What?”

“A scullery maid does kitchen cleanup. A washerwoman does the laundry.”

“I guess you’re right. But shouldn’t I be a washerman?”

“Is there such a thing?”

“Google it, Brian. You’ll see I’m right. Let’s see, there’s something else. Oh, yeah. I’m going to talk to Mr. Field and get your web design textbook.”

“Yeah, thanks. I think I’m really going to need that one.”

“Okay, see you, Brian.” Nate hugged me without the kissing part, and left. I arranged my books in the order I’d need them for studying and doing homework for the next few days based on the chart I’d made.

I’d finished the AP European History assignment and needed the new list of reading assignments from Mrs. Wiese. I entered a reminder into the calendar app on my cell to login to Blackboard and check my assignments at the end of the day tomorrow, and since I’d ignored English I entered a reminder to make that my number one priority for tomorrow morning. I also entered a reminder to phone Mr. Eamonds, Deer Valley High’s principal, and ask him how I could contact the students who came by the house or left cards at school but didn’t include their email or mailing addresses or their phone number.

Mom made a tuna noodle casserole for dinner, one of my favorite meals. We watched an NBA basketball game afterwards, and I spent most of the time yawning. I was real tired, and couldn’t figure out why. I’d been yawning so much that Dad finally made a comment.

“Brian, why don’t you get to bed. You’ve had a long day. You had Nate here since this morning then Rob joined the two of you this afternoon and they finally left at around five thirty. You look tired, you can barely keep your eyes open. Go to bed. You need the sleep.”

“I think I will. I’ve been yawning so much that I don’t even know who’s playing, and I’m so out of it that I don’t really care. I have PT tomorrow afternoon and that’s going to be intense, so I need to get a lot of sleep tonight.” I stood up. “G’night, Dad. Tell Mom g’night for me. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Brian. I’ll tell your mom that you said goodnight. Now skoot.”

I brushed my teeth and got into bed. It was early, only nine thirty, but it seemed like I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I had a very realistic, very intense dream. In my dream I felt someone get into bed with me. It was Nate. He put his arm around me and snuggled close. I put my left arm around him and was glad that my cast had finally been taken off. We snuggled close together. I could feel his breath on my bare shoulder and I could hear him breathe. His fingertips lightly rubbed my back, and I did the same against his back. It was very sensual and passionate and erotic.

When I awoke it was almost eight thirty. I’d forgotten to turn on my alarm. I lay in bed and the dream came back to me. I knew there was more to the dream than what I could remember, but I played back what I could remember over and over trying to burn it into my memory so I wouldn’t lose it.

I got up and sat down at my laptop. I keyed in the dream, pleased that I remembered all of what I had recalled. I saved the file as ‘dreamtime.docx’ in a separate folder and encrypted the folder and its contents. While there wasn’t much of a chance that anyone else would read this, it’s the sort of thing that I wanted to keep totally private.

I looked at the clock. It was just after nine, so I got up and showered, brushed my teeth, and dressed. Before going downstairs for breakfast I checked the calendar app on my cell. Besides the reminders I’d entered yesterday, Larry Tefford would be here every Monday at two for my physical therapy sessions. I was sure Mom would remind me of that appointment when I went down for breakfast. I put my cell in my pocket and went downstairs.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Good morning, Brian. You slept late today.”

“Yes, I did. I forgot to set my alarm and I’m really glad. I sure needed all of the eleven hours sleep I got last night. It’s funny, but I don’t feel all that untired right now.”

Mom laughed. “Where did you get the word ‘untired’? I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Oh, yes it is. Check it in the dictionary. ‘Untired’ is a perfectly good word. I’d have to completely reword the sentence if I couldn’t use ‘untired’ there.”

“Did you check it in the dictionary?”

“Yup. When I was writing one of my stories for my Creative Writing class I needed to use that word. But the Word spell checker underlined it with a squiggly red line, meaning it wasn’t in the Word dictionary. So I looked it up, and it is a word, so I added it to the Word dictionary. When I find a word like that I remember it.” I felt like adding, ‘so there!’ but that would not have gone over very well. No, not at all.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Cereal and a toaster pastry. I can get it for myself.”

“Alright. If you want anything else, like eggs, let me know.”

“Okay, thanks. I think cereal and a couple of toaster pastries will be enough.”

After I finished eating and put my dishes in the dishwasher, I pulled out my cell.

So Mom didn’t remind me about physical therapy. I guess she left it up to me. “I have PT today at two. The other things I have this week are tutoring on Thursday and Friday. That’s a problem because I also have the prosecution deposition on Friday. I don’t want to miss any of my tutoring sessions, and the rest of the time on tutoring days I need to spend on all of the homework I’m assigned. So Thursdays and Fridays I need to have open, with nothing else scheduled.”

“I agree. Let’s see if we can change the deposition to tomorrow or Wednesday.”

I pulled out my cell and looked at my calendar. “Okay. That’s a good idea. I don’t have anything on those days.”

“Alright, I’ll phone Mr. Kilpatrick now.”

While Mom went into the family room to make the call, I went upstairs to get my laptop and put it in my backpack along with the textbooks I’d need for Thursday’s tutoring session. I brought it all down to the kitchen and set up on one end of the kitchen table. I went online to the school’s Blackboard site and checked to see what assignments had been sent to me over the weekend. I found the current assignments for English 2 and all of the assignments through this week for Desktop Publishing. I had my Creative Writing assignment ready to send so I posted it to Mrs. Ocampo. Mr. Field sent me the instructions for the five projects he’d assigned for Web Design 2 and for the year project. I downloaded everything to my laptop and signed off.

Calling Mr. Eamonds at Deer Valley High would be the next thing for me to do. I wanted to phone him on the house number, not my cell. I never called any of the staff at school on my cell. Just say I’m a little paranoid. So I needed to wait until Mom was finished with her call to Ian Kilpatrick. She’d been on the phone for almost fifteen minutes. What was taking so long? I got up and walked into the family room.

She was sitting with the phone in her ear grinning.

“Hey, mom,” I whispered. “I want to use the phone to call Mr. Eamonds, my principal. How long are you going to be?”

She shrugged her shoulders and mouthed ‘D A’s office’ — at least I think that’s what she told me. So I had to wait. I went back to the kitchen and started in on my English 2 assignments.

About ten minutes later Mom came into the kitchen.

“Well, Mr. Kilpatrick’s assistant had some very interesting information for us, and that’s why it took so long.” She sat down at the table, and had a notepad that she referred to as she told me what she learned.

“Brian, your prosecution deposition has been cancelled. There are two reasons. The first is that Tom Calloway has been offered a plea bargain and he accepted it. We’ll be notified what the details of the plea bargain are as soon as they are documented and signed by both the prosecution and the defense. Second, through his attorney Quinten Santoni has offered to plead guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence. That plea bargain is being negotiated, but Mr. Kilpatrick believes it will result in terms acceptable to the District Attorney.

“This also means that there won’t be a trial, and as a result you won’t have to testify in court.

“The terms of Grant Aikers plea bargain have been released and have been sent to John Gibbs. A summary is that Grant will be on probation until his eighteenth birthday. If there are no violations of his probation his record will be expunged, which means it will be erased.”

She stopped talking, and I thought for a few seconds.

“I think Grant’s probation term is fine. I think he’s basically a good guy and I’m convinced that he didn’t want anything to do with what Quin decided to do to me. He was in the car when they grabbed me, but left when they took me into that chicken shed. Do you think that’s the right thing to do?”

“Yes, I agree,” Mom replied. “What about Tom?”

“I hope he gets more than probation. He needs to go to jail, just like Quin. Do we get any say about their plea bargains?”

“I didn’t ask that question, but I don’t think so. As soon as the plea bargains are drafted and agreed to by the District Attorney’s office and the defense attorney and the defendants I think that’s it. We need to ask John Gibbs about that.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No, but I did talk to Kathleen Avalon. She’s his legal assistant. She said that they are aware of all three plea bargains and they will be kept updated by Mr. Kilpatrick.”

“Any idea when that will all be finished and we can find out what’s been agreed to?”

“She said they didn’t know, but she said that plea bargains are usually completed within thirty days.”

I sat back and thought about all this. In a way not having to go to trial would be a huge relief. On the other hand, the idea of plea bargains for Quin and Tom worried me. I definitely wanted those two assholes in jail and not for just ninety days or something short like that. Besides, they were being held without bail, and that time would be considered part of their sentences regardless of whether or not they got their plea bargains.

“Well, I guess we just have to wait, don’t we?” I asked Mom.

“Yes, we do have to wait. Still, not having to go to court is better for you, isn’t it?”

“True that.”

“Brian, don’t use those teen slang terms at home with me and your dad.”

“Okay, sorry. I meant I agree. I’d rather not go to court. But doesn’t there have to be an arraignment or something like that?”

“I don’t know That’s another question for John Gibbs.”

“When will we see him?”

“Kathleen didn’t know. She told me we should hear from John sometime this week.”

I grinned. “This is very interesting information. Man, I can hardly wait until Dad gets home and hears about it. Oh... I’ll bet you’re going to phone him, aren’t you?”

“Of course, he needs to know right away. As soon as we’re finished talking I’m going to phone him.”

“Okay. So no big surprise for him when he gets home tonight, no banner across the living room, no balloons, no confetti, no dancing girls. Shucks!”

Mom was laughing. “Dancing girls? Where do you come up with these ideas?”

“My imagination?”

“I think that’s it. You have a very fertile imagination. Sometimes too fertile. Dancing girls.” Mom shook her head. “Where in the world would you come up with that?”

“My smashed in skull?”

“Well, don’t lose your imagination. An active imagination is a good thing to have, Brian. Now I’m going to call your father.”

“Then maybe you’ll phone ‘Dancing Girls R Us’? Huh? Huh? Just think about how surprised Dad would be.”

“Do your homework. Don’t forget about your physical therapy appointment at two. You should have lunch right at noon so you have time before he arrives. Let’s see, his name is, um....”

I interrupted, “Larry Tefford. I have my Monday two p.m. appointments in the calendar on my cellphone.”

“I’m going to make that call to your dad now.”

“Can I call Mr. Eamonds first? It won’t take too long. I need to find out if there’s a way to get the email or home addresses of the kids who sent me cards and signed the guest book you had out while I was in the hospital. I want to send them thank you cards.”

“Alright, go ahead and make that call. That is important to do if you can find a way to do it. Schools keep student information private, so they probably won’t give it to you. You know, one option would be if they will distribute your thank you cards for you. You write the name on the envelope, put a postage stamp and your return address, and they would fill in the addresses and mail them. That would protect the school’s privacy rules.”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks, Mom.”

I went in the family room and dialed the school phone number, told them I was Brian Anderson and asked to speak to Mr. Eamonds. After a few seconds he answered the phone.

“Brian? It’s nice to hear from you. How are you doing?”

“I’m getting better. I’m planning on coming back to school in August.”

“That’s wonderful. I assume you’ve called to ask me about something. What can I do for you?”

“I got a lot of cards from kids at school, and some kids came to my house during the time no one knew where I was. I want to write everyone a thank you card for caring about me. Thing is, a lot of them I don’t know well enough to have their email or home addresses. My mom and I were talking about how to send cards to those kids. We know that the school has that sort of information, especially the home addresses, but it needs to be kept private so I assume you won’t give it to me. My mom suggested that maybe if I wrote the name on each envelope and put a stamp and my return address, then maybe the school could address and send them.”

“That is an interesting idea, Brian. But perhaps there’s an easier way and you’d save the cost of the stamps. We could have our student aides distribute them to each of the students here at school during homeroom.”

“Wow, that would be so cool. That also makes it more personal. So you can do that for me?”

“I think so. Let me check with Mrs. Abrams, she’s in charge of the student aides. I can call you tomorrow morning, about this time? Oh, also, how many cards are there?”

“I went through the names and there are seventy seven plus four where I can’t decipher the handwriting. I have them all in a spreadsheet. And I’ll be here tomorrow morning, and so will my mom.”

“Excellent. I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning about this. Tell me, how is your home tutoring working out?”

“Great. I like both Evan and David, the tutors who are helping me. My teachers have been sending me assignments using Blackboard, and Nate Mead comes over almost every day after school to help me with the classes we have together, especially he helps with the Physics experiments that I can’t do with one hand. We’ve become friends, too.”

“I’ve met Nate and he’s a very nice person. I’m glad he’s able to help you.”

“Yeah. It’s convenient for him because he lives a couple blocks from me. It’s also good that it’s spring semester because he wouldn’t be available during football season.”

“If there’s ever anything you need, Brian, give me a call and let’s talk about it. Alright?”

“Yes, sir. And thanks for helping me with the thank you cards.”

We ended the call and I walked into the kitchen.

“Mom, I’ve finished my phone call to Mr. Eamonds. He’s going to call me tomorrow about a suggestion he made to have the thank you cards distributed to the kids during homeroom.”

“That’s a very good idea. That way no student confidentiality rules will be broken.”

“Yeah, I agree. And I won’t have to buy like eighty stamps to mail the cards. Oh, you can have the phone now.”

Mom finished the call to my dad and went upstairs. The phone rang so I picked it up. It was John Gibbs.

“Hi, Mr. Gibbs.”

“Hello, Brian. How are you doing?”

‘Why do people always have to ask how I’m doing?’ I thought. Anyway, I answered his question, “I’m doing great.”

“Good. Is your mom there?”

“She went upstairs. I can go get her but it might take a couple minutes. Can she call you back?”

“Yes, please ask her to call back. I need to come over tonight to meet with the three of you. I have information on the plea bargains for you. Earlier today I had a long meeting with Quinten Santoni’s attorney and I need to talk about that. It’s rather important.”

“Okay, I’ll ask her to call back.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

Now, what’s that all about?