A New Beginning

Richard Bambrough, the blond hunk in Carl's math class, has his own take on what's transpired. In fact, he sees things considerably differently from how Carl does. Let's listen to the same narrative from Richard's point of view ...

Mr. Clayborn's not a bad teacher and math is one of my better subjects. But he's explaining the same solution to the same problem over and over again for some of the thicker skulls in the class. I find my mind starting to wander. Then my head starts to swivel to my right as it has so often this past week. I'm gonna check out the new kid again. I don't even know his name since Mr. Clayborn hadn't bothered to have him introduce himself to the class or anything. But he sure is cute. I'll bet he only comes up to my chin. That makes me feel kinda creepy, actually. You know, him being only about as tall as an eleven or twelve year old. Am I more than just gay? Am I some kinda pedo? But that's stupid, cause he has to be my age, fourteen, to be in this class, doesn't he? So he's short. He's just small for his age. That doesn't make me a pedo, does it? God, I hope not.

I've wanted to go over to him and introduce myself a number of times but I've felt kinda bashful about it. I guess it's mostly cuz he's so young lookin' and all. God, I hate all these mixed feelings. Probably the best thing is not to do anything. Being so short and all he probably has enough problems in his life without having to deal with a fairy. But at least I can check him out once in a while. That won't hurt anything, will it? He's definitely some eye candy, though.

When my eyes settle on him I notice that he's lookin' this way. Oh my gosh, he's lookin' right at me! At least, I think he's lookin' at me. He's either really brazen or I'm just imagining that he's lookin' at me. No ... damn it! He's staring straight at me! He's lookin' kinda dreamy eyed too, like looking at a puppy in a pet shop window. I need to see if I can get some kinda reaction out of him so I give him the old Groucho Marx routine with the eyebrows. That does something! His eyes just got as big as saucers and his head snaps towards the front of the class. Oh my God, this is soo cute. He's sliding down under his desk now. There's nothin' showin' but the top of his head ... ha, ha, ha! 

'Look at that cute mop of brown hair.' Oh man, now I feel really guilty. I've just embarrassed the shit out of the poor kid. Wait a minute ... I haven't done anything! What do I have to feel guilty about? It was him that was checking me out, wasn't it? But, what if he was just sorta staring off into space - not really lookin' at anything? Then he'd feel embarrassed because it would have looked like he was scoping me out. Of course, that's probably it. Not everyone is as twisted in the head as you are, Richard. I'm probably the only guy in this school that actually checks out other guys. And besides, as young as he is, rather as young-looking as he is, he probably doesn't have a sexual thought in his head. At least not my kinda twisted sexual thoughts, at any rate.

I need to do something to set his mind at ease. Maybe I can catch him before he leaves the classroom. I'll just go ahead and introduce myself or somethin'. This is kinda the opportunity I've been lookin' for anyway. Besides, I don't intend to actually do anything with the guy! But it would sure be fun to be able to be friends with him, though. It would feel way too creepy trying to do anything else. Jesus ... would you listen to me? I haven't had the nerve to do anything with anyone so you know damn well the kid's safe.

The bell's just about to ring and Mr. Clayborn has given us our assignment for Monday. I jot the problems down in my notebook and then gather everything up. There goes the bell. Whoa ... easy, people. I know it's Friday, but take it easy, will ya? If the door wasn't causing a bottleneck the class would be empty now. Well, not quite empty. My little buddy's still under his desk! Oh my God ... he must be like super embarrassed. Maybe I oughta just leave and let him salvage a little dignity. He's probably just waitin' for me to get the hell out of the classroom so he can gather his stuff and go. But if I don't talk to him now, when will I ever get the nerve to do it again? 

So, with that thought process out of the way, I saunter over to his desk. Well there's a little more that the top of his head sticking up - I can see his eyes. Damn cute eyes too: brown, kinda like a doe. I settle down on one knee to try and look a little less intimidating. Oh my God ... he's sliding even further under his desk! The chair in front of him squeaks across the floor with his knees pushing it. I can't help it, this really strikes my funny bone! I start to chortle and then I say something like ... 

"Hey, dude, see if ya can spot the gum I stuck under that desk last year. I'll divvy it up with ya." Sometimes my own wit surprises me and I'm really laughing now. And then he says somethin' that literally gets me rolling on the floor. He says ...

"Um ... which one is yours - the Dentyne or the Double Bubble?" I swear, this guy should be on the Jay Leno show! I'm squeezin' my gut I'm laughin' so hard. 

Mr. Clayborn brings me back to reality by saying something to the effect that we better get our butts out the door. Well, I start to get up, but Mr. Comedian whips out from under his desk, grabs his stuff and shoots for the door like the boogy man's after him. 

"Hey, new kid! Hey ... wait up!" I holler at him. I trot to the door but by the time I get there he's a good thirty feet down the hall. 

"Hey, hold on, dude!" I yell. 

He turns his head to look back at me but keeps on going. What I see when he looks at me just about makes my stomach drop out from under me. His face is streaked with tears! 

I just stand there, rooted to the spot. My mind's reeling, 'Oh my God, Richard. You insensitive fucking ass! That kid didn't think you were laughing with him. He thought you were laughing athim!' I took what was an embarrassing moment for him and turned it into a total catastrophe. God, sometimes I can't believe myself. It reminds me of what our swim coach says to the screw ups on the team. "You're such fuck-ups, you'd probably take peanut butter to a cock-sucking party"! Of course most of the guys didn't get it - they just laughed because he said 'fuck' and 'cock-sucking'. 

I just stand there staring down the hall for awhile. I don't think it would be a good idea to go after him. I'd just end up slinging more peanut butter on him. Then I walk back into the classroom. The teacher's busy erasing the blackboard. 

"Hey, Mr. Clayborn, what's that kid's name?" He looks at me for a few seconds, trying to figure out who the hell I'm talking about. 

"You mean the little guy?" I nod yes. He says, "Carl Fuller - he just moved here from California."

"Thanks," I tell him. Then I turn and head out into the hall again. The bell rings just as I reach my locker and I grab my English book. I'm a couple of minutes late to class but the teacher's writing stuff on the board so she doesn't see me sneak up to my desk.

Everything about this class is a total blank. I don't write down the weekend assignment or anything. I'm just sittin' here feeling like this huge dork. I even feel my own eyes brimming over a couple of times. What am I gonna do? Nothin': that would probably be the best course of action. If I'd done nothin' in math class, just simply left after the bell rang, then Carl would only be half as embarrassed as he is now. It seems that when I try to fix things the muddier they seem to get. But, damn it, I don't want to go through the weekend feeling like shit. I'm not such a bad guy, honest: ask any of my friends. Shoot, I'm buds with everyone on the swim team and I've made a lotta friends elsewhere around the school, too. Of course they're mostly guy friends. I just don't seem to know what to say to the girls and, to be honest, I really don't have a lotta desire to say anything to them. 

The bell rings and I still haven't come to any kinda decision. Screw it ... I'm gonna talk to him before he leaves the school grounds. With my mind made up, I figure the best place to be sure I'll see him is outside. I know he walks home because I've seen him a couple times. So I walk out the door, down the steps, and just plunk my butt down on the planter by the flagpole. I don't even go to my locker first and I still have my English book in my hand. 

I'm checking out everyone that comes past me. That's not easy either because the kids just come pouring out of the building. Well ... duh ... it is Friday! The building will be like totally empty in ten minutes. I have to look at faces cuz a lotta the seventh graders are about his height. Carl and I are big cheese ninth graders - but poor Carl would easily pass for one of the younger kids. All at once there he is: he's standing in front of me at the bottom of the steps. He's spotted me too. He just stands there holding this green sorta laundry bag over his shoulder. I guess they're for his books. 

I still have no idea what I'm gonna say to him. It's not as though I've planned this out or anything. One thing I do know, if he bolts, then I'll just let him run. God, I hope he won't burst into tears or anything. That would just about kill me. But he actually starts walkin' up to me, kinda slow like. I stay sittin' down cause I want to stay shorter than he is. Maybe that'll help a little. He has this look on his face like he's walkin' up to the gallows. I'm not expecting that. I guess I don't know what I should expect. If he were me, though, I think I would flip me the bird and then keep right on walking. 

He looks me right in the face until he gets just a few feet from me and then he looks down at the ground. He looks like he's expecting to get bawled out or something. God ... he looks so cute and vulnerable. I wanna say somethin' to put him at ease but I'm tongue tied. Just as I'm about to say somethin' I feel the waterworks begin to start up. I try to hold them back but I don't think I'm gonna be very successful. 

Hmmm ... same story, two different points of view. Which one is accurate? None, you say? The dickens, you say. How will things ever get rectified? In the next chapter you will hear two loud popping sounds ... that's Richard and Carl pulling their heads out of their butts ... heheh! About time, you say? I couldn't agree with you more.