Short Story: Lads

Short Story: Lads

When I joined the gang I was only just nine years old. Basher, a year older than me, introduced us:-

"'lo Jack," he addressed the eleven-year-old leader, "this here is Brian... he's a whizz with an aerosol..."

I'm not sure what it was about Jack. I was nearly his height then, and I was fascinated, if a little frightened, with his dark moodiness, as dark as his almost black eyes and hair. He looked dangerous.

"Arty," he grunted, and that was my name from then on. He left my introduction to the others, Torres, Gander, Pete and Stick, to Basher. It didn't mean I was accepted. It didn't occur to me to wonder why Pete and Jack didn't have nicknames, that's just the way it was.

As the years passed I concentrated on my graffiti, getting wordless grunts of approval from Jack, which sent my spirits soaring, while he concentrated on bashing in a bus-shelter, or wrestled some poor tree-branch to its death. While I slyly admired these shows of strength, I didn't like the trees being abused like that, while the others either stood around whooping encouragement, or tried their own strength on some poor sapling, sometimes two or three onto one, so the poor thing never stood a chance; - you never 'helped' Jack... If Jack picked on a tree it was his, and you'd risk a punch in the face if you interfered.

I guess I knew pretty early on that I was different. I wasn't entirely sure how until I met Jack. Jack was invincible; Jack scaled housing blocks, and frequently masqueraded across roof-tops, or rapped on people's balcony windows, vanishing before anyone could do a thing about it; Jack was 'The Man' right enough, and the Police couldn't do anything because no-one was able to say the latest outrage was him, 'cos they never caught him at it.

All the time I watched him from afar, feeling he was the negative of me, with my almost platinum hair, invisible eyebrows and lashes, and my freckles were a fright, I hated them, so I kept my head down and sprayed my masterpieces all over town... and at home I disappeared up to my room to think about Jack, looking in the mirror and hating myself.

I think I was about eleven when my mum and dad went out for one of their monthly evenings, leaving me at home with my elder sister, who didn't want anything to do with me. She got her boyfriend in to sit downstairs watching telly all evening, and I got lost in my I-pod. I was distracted though. I suddenly got this picture in my head of my mum putting on her mascara, and I lay there thinking about it.

Then I grinned. Who would know? So I crept through to my parents' room and found one of mum's mascara tubes; - and started putting it on my lashes, then my eyebrows; only I wasn't sure how and got some in my eye. I got plenty on my cheeks as well, but there were tissues handy, and wet-wipes, so it wasn't too bad, and when I'd finally cleaned off the stuff I didn't need, there I was with dark lashes and brows, and I remember gazing at myself for a long time, completely enchanted with the transformation.

That was when I finally understood, of course. The realisation hit me so hard I quickly wet-wiped it all away, made sure I left things as I found them, and went back to my room shaking.

A whole week later I finally entered a chemists to buy my own mascara, with my paper-round earnings, 'For my girlfriend'... and then I was free to experiment, always after everyone else had gone to bed, so no-one could surprise me. Eye-liner followed, and I'd chew my lips and pinch my cheeks, (somehow I never could go as far as to buy lipstick...), all the time growing more and more excited, yet afraid.

------

"Your lashes are looking darker..." Jack, looking at me frankly as we sat in the cafe down the road. I blushed at the attention, kicking myself that my stupid complexion let me down so easily. Basher and Stick looked across at me and started sniggering, until Jack said, "It's an improvement on that crap-sprayed face of yours, now it's got a bitta detail..."

I can't really describe how that made me feel. I just knew that my pulse was racing up the street and around town it was going so fast, yet all I could do was shrug as indifferently, and swallow a gulp of my latte. I definitely couldn't trust myself to speak.

"You should start using mascara!" Torres laughed loudly.

"Go Goth!" Gander added, laughing even louder.

They were all older than me, and I felt a bit intimidated, but knew I mustn't show it.

"Not a bad idea!" I grinned back at them, but my voice wasn't quite as strong as I'd have liked it to be, and I pretended some of my latte had gone down the wrong way.

"Keep it down over there!" one of the waitresses called over to us.

"Or what?" Jack shouted back. "You gonna put us over your knee?"

Gander and Pete growled suggestively, and I laughed with them all, very relieved the attention was no longer on me.

I could feel the changes in my physique. Running had become an early morning pleasure before school, and I enjoyed watching my pecs and six-pack develop. I liked my body even if I still couldn't appreciate my face, which began to sprout irritating tufts of hair. I saw my shoulders broadening, and my neck thickening and knew I should be fantasising about girls as I explored my sexuality in the privacy of my room... but I saw only Jack...

A schoolboy crush? I'd heard of that, and I accepted it might be my problem, but my best fantasies centred around Jack beating up another kid, always bigger then him; Jack leaping off high walls or across impossible gaps; Jack looking at me...

------

Stick; long thin streak of nothing... only he wasn't any more. At fifteen, and a half, his neck and jaw had padded out, and his eyes were less sunken; he stopped coming to our meetings so often; he had a girlfriend...

Gander and Pete, the oldest members 'going on seventeen', took up with a Ne'er-do-well who did quite well out of masterminding their dumb-asses into burglaries and the like, until they were copped... I wondered about visiting them in prison, but as I was still only coming up to fourteen years old, there wasn't an adult would take me in there.

Only months later Torres parked his bum on the edge of a wall and told the three of us, "I'm joining the Army!"

Jack looked indifferent, but Basher gasped, "What d'ya wanna do that for? It's all discipline, an' follerin' oders an' everything!"

"It's adventure, and seeing the World, an' being paid for it!"

I regarded Torres as the most level-headed of all of us. A mild-mannered renegade with a bit of intelligence, though not enough to make him a leader, even though he was the last of the three who were older than Jack.

Basher snorted, and punched a hole through the headlight of a nearby car. "Way to go, Basher!" Jack sniggered, and finally rested his gaze on Torres. "Whatever grabs you man. I'm thinking of opening a Bistro!"

Well he certainly had the cash, but... "At fifteen-and-a half?" I queried, before I could stop myself, as I carefully embellished the word 'SEX', which I'd fitted neatly into the shape of a single brick in the wall Torres had parked his bum on.

There was silence, then, "Whered'you get the chalk, Art?" Jack asked, pointedly ignoring my remark.

"Bought it..." I replied defensively.

"Makes a change from the aerosols..." he seemed to say it as though he was distracted, so I carried on quietly finishing my doodles before standing up to turn and park my bum next to Torres. As I stood I saw Jack looking up at me, and I suddenly registered that I must be a good four or five inches taller than him, and in the same instant got the most painful hard-on as I looked down on him. I parked my bum quickly, and ducked my head to try and hide the inevitable blush.

"Cheaper'n aerosols..." I muttered, my voice not coming out as clear as I wanted again... Jack looking at me... Jack looking at me like that... "Gotta go home..." I muttered, "See you's tomorrow..."

I caught the eye of Torres as I looked back, and his quizzical expression informed me he knew.

Thank God Basher didn't seem to've picked up on anything, at least I knew Torres would be discreet. What bothered me most was whether Jack had noticed; I hadn't dared look at him again. I sloped off home in turmoil, my imagination firing off all manner of scenarios as I worked out how the dangerous, brooding Jack might react if he knew. What would he do about it?

I asked myself that question as I sat in my room. The gang was obviously finished. Would Jack just take off on his own, or with Basher, or would he get Basher in on beating me up? I looked at myself and knew they couldn't take me on. Younger I may be, but I was a giant compared to both of them, and I knew how to handle myself. I came to a decision that night, momentous I thought, but I was totally unprepared for the upshot...

I had to confront them. I had to hold my head up and be proud. Homosexuality was no longer unacceptable, and if they weren't adult enough to accept it, then it was no loss to me... Jack beating up kids bigger than himself... Jack looking at me... I swallowed, and didn't sleep too well that night.

The following morning was a Saturday. I was due to help my dad build a new rabbit-hutch, so I got up thinking I'd give the early-morning run a miss for once... truth was I didn't want to risk running into 'anyone' I knew, yet; I was still resolved to face it out, but I'd like to be some use over the hutch before I was rendered to pulp and thus useless for the next few days... maybe even knifed to death...

Dad was still in bed, and Mum was getting their early morning cuppa in the kitchen, "Wanna cup?" she asked, as I sidled past her to get a carton of juice from the fridge.

"Naaa, thanks," I drawled casually, pouring orange juice into a glass, "I wanna make a start on the hutch," and I swigged it down quickly. She shrugged and grinned at me, then departed with the tray she'd prepared.

Out in the garden I stood looking at the pile of planks against the house-wall, and the roll of chicken-wire, realised I needed the keys to the shed, and turned to re-enter the back door.

"What ya doin'?"

The hair on the back of my neck pricked to attention, and started an avalanche down my arms and torso to my groin and then my legs. I swung round to see Jack's head frowning over the fence at me. "Jack! What you doing here?" I gasped.

"Wanna talk..." he said briefly.

Once again my imagination covered the various scenarios possible; him luring me into a trap of some sort being the prevailing theme, and I took a moment to gather my wits.

"...alone..." he added, and then, as if he sensed my thoughts, "...it's okay... we can have a cuppa at the caff while we talk."

Why that should reassure me I don't know, it could still have been a trap, but I nodded, "See you out front."

As he joined me outside the gate he brushed my naked arm so briefly it seemed accidental... or was he playing with me; being cruel? That damned hard-on sprang to life again and I thrust my hands into my jeans pockets to bulge them out so they'd disguise it, and hope he hadn't seen... I nearly chickened out at that point. The words, "Naaa, on second thoughts I gotta get this rabbit-hutch started..." sprang to mind, but I didn't say them. My heart was in my mouth as I then reminded myself, "I'm fitter'n Basher; - I can take them both on..."

We sat in a corner away from the windows, which was unusual, and I was checking around all the time for Basher to turn up. Jack was ominously silent, and I wasn't going to be the first to speak.

"You shaving yet?" he asked suddenly.

Warily I glanced at him, then quickly away... Jack looking at me like that... "Yea, well I get a few tufts here an' there..." I responded nervously.

"I find the spots get in the way a bit..." he laughed.

"You haven't got many though," I said too loudly, trying to drown out the thundering apprehension of my exploding heart. Then I watched him as he leaned forward over the table, trying to fathom where he was going with this, and found him staring at me intently, those dark eyes seeming to bore into my very soul, as one finger pushed forward to touch the side of my hand... I very nearly had an orgasm on the spot.

"You gotta get back to your rabbit-hutch," he said in a low voice, "I'll see you down the river after lunch... there's a secret place I found there..." Then he stood up and pulled my hand briefly to his crotch, "...I've wanted you for a long time..." he said gruffly, and I saw a glimpse of what I can only call shyness as he shifted uncomfortably, looking away from me, then glancing back. I smiled gently, suddenly feeling he was leaving it to me to take charge.

I stood up, using my height to the full, "...and I you..." I said strongly, holding his gaze.