“Bobby! Bobby!” Mom was calling me just as I was heading out the door.

I turned back to answer her. “Mom! I’m fifteen. I don’t like being called ‘Bobby’ anymore.” I’d objected before to the nickname, but it never seemed to do any good.

She laughed, and I tried not to let her see me roll my eyes. “Sorry, Rob. That’s what you prefer, isn’t it?” She didn’t wait for confirmation. “You’re going down to the public park to play basketball? It’s only 9 a.m. — what time do you expect to be home? Your father wants to take us out for Mexican tonight.”

“Oh. Uh… I guess I could be back by six?” I’d been planning to go with the guys to grab pizza, but Dad didn’t spring for meals out that often.

She made a face. “You’ll need to wash up, so make it five if you can. After eight hours of running and jumping, you will need a shower. Have you got money for lunch?”

I nodded. Dad had left an envelope with my allowance that I had snagged off the toolbox in the garage after doing my chores and putting the weed whacker away. There was usually a food truck parked nearby downtown, or I could go to the food court in the mall a few blocks away, plus a diner a block from the park.

Now Mom was smiling as she tugged at my collar, which didn’t need straightening. “Your brother is going to be in town tonight, and he and Cynthia will be going with us to dinner.

“Oh,” I said. “Okay.” That’s why we were going out for dinner.

Johnny and his wife Cynthia lived in family quarters at the air base about twenty miles away. But he’d be leaving on deployment overseas in a few weeks and Cynthia would be staying with us until he came home. It was a one-year assignment somewhere in the Middle East, and Mom and Dad were sort of nervous about it. It’s not the calmest or safest part of the world for someone wearing a US military uniform.

John was my big brother, eight years and five days older, but we hadn’t really been close since he graduated high school, joined the Air Force and married Cynthia. It’d be nice to see him before he went overseas again.

I said as much to Mom, then got out of the house before she could think of some other reason to delay. One thing I didn’t want to hear again was Mom’s lament about when would Cynthia provide her with a grandchild? I probably wasn’t as tired of it as Cindy was, or John, for that matter.

I’d gotten my chores out of the way early so I could be sure to be one of the first to arrive at the park, and I’d put my bike out front in anticipation with my ratty old roundball in the basket. I’d already checked the inflation, too, so I hopped on the bike and started pumping.

Kabarker is a pretty flat town in the south end of the San Joaquin Valley, but there’s a bit of a rise before you get downtown, and I always liked to be going as fast as I could at the crest so I could just coast the rest of the way. The morning was still cool, and in early May, it wasn’t likely to get very hot, but I wasn’t wearing any more than I had to. A cartoon t-shirt, khaki shorts with cargo pockets, and my Van’s low-pros made up my usual Saturday get-up this time of year.

The breeze I made on my bike smelled of flowers from the desert around the town and avgas from the planes that passed overhead all day long. Sometimes, they caused a lot of noise, too, and people complained, but the town had depended on the nearby airbase for forty years, and that wasn’t going to change. People either worked civilian jobs on the base or in businesses that sold goods and services to the airmen.

What else would you do? Dig borax out of Muley Flats like people had done a hundred years ago? No, Kabarker still existed because of the Dromedary Lake Air Base and a lot of kids from the high school, like my brother, joined the Air Force after graduation. I wasn’t planning on it, but it would be an available option.

I didn’t have any decisions to make about the direction of my life at the moment, though, because I knew exactly where I was going. Sierra Boulevard is the main business district of Kabarker, eight or ten blocks long, with Sierra Park at one end and City Hall at the other. I rode by the park to make sure no one had already claimed the basketball courts, then steered for the alley behind the businesses facing Sierra.

My friend Josh Merrit lived above one of the shops with his mother, the owner and manager of Merrit Bridal, Lingerie and Dry Cleaning. Even on Saturday morning, Mrs. Merrit would be downstairs running her shops and managing her employees. Josh would be sleeping in because he worked the late shift Fridays and Saturdays at Muley’s BBQ Joint.

But the storage rooms behind the shops made a good place to leave my bike. I didn’t have to knock or anything. The back door was unlocked, and I soon had my bike stowed among the cans of cleaning fluid and the boxes of frilly underwear. I stuck my head into the office to say hi to Mrs. Merrit, but she had her head down over some paperwork and hardly gave me a glance or a grunt.

I waved at Luna Marquez behind the dry cleaner counter, and she waved back. She rolled her eyes upward, signaling me that I should go wake up Josh. I grinned at her, then climbed the interior stairs up to the Merrit apartment. Josh’s mom’s employees all treated Josh like a lazy nephew.

Upstairs, and again, I didn’t knock because nothing was locked. Pretty typical for Kabarker doors since everyone in town pretty much knew everyone else, so crime and security were both low. Inside the apartment, I made my way to Josh’s bedroom door and discovered it open. In the room, Josh lay sprawled across the full-size bed…

Naked.

I blinked loudly several times as I realized what I was looking at. I’d seen Josh naked before. We’d both been on the JayVee basketball team and had gym lockers in the same row. But….

Well, the way it works in a guys’ locker room is you try to avoid looking at the other guys’ junk. It’s rude and could even be considered queer. Or gay. Whatever. You didn’t do it.

But there Josh lay, not even a sheet across his naked body and in the middle of that flesh stood his—well, his penis. Red and swollen, stiff as a rod and most of a foot long. I guess. I wasn’t going to measure it.

But I did stare. I don’t think I’d ever seen someone’s…dick…so flagrantly aroused. It looked huge. Josh is a pretty big guy. We were in the same grade at school, but he turned sixteen last October, and I wouldn’t have my birthday until late August. He was most of a foot taller than me, too… lying down or standing up.

I didn’t know what to do. Wake him up somehow? Call his name or knock on his door? Wouldn’t things be a little awkward? Maybe I should just sneak away and wait for him on the courts?

But I couldn’t leave. I stood there staring like a rabbit frozen by the sight of a snake. Images, ideas and thoughts crowded my brain. Could I get closer without waking Josh? Why would I want to get closer? What would it feel like if I touched it? Warm? Rubbery? Hard as wood?

His hand, Josh’s hand, appeared from his other side and wrapped itself around the base of the fleshy spire.

And suddenly, I was running, out of the apartment, down the stairs and out into the alley. Breathing hard, feeling my face flushed, bending over with my hands on my knees, I threw up the Cap’n Crunch cereal I had had for breakfast before doing yard work.

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “I’m gay…!”

“You two are practically joined at the hip, most of the time.”

I took a walk around the downtown area. I went as far north as the bike shop and browsed the shiny metal and black rubber of the bikes. There was a five-speed that I just might be able to afford if I got the money I was expecting for my birthday in three months. It was red with a white leather seat and had the sort of road tires you find on a touring bike. It wasn’t for racing or mountain climbing, it was for going a long distance on a highway.

Somewhere far away from Kabarker and the image in my head of Josh’s …equipment.

I sighed because looking at the bikes did not really keep me distracted from my thoughts.

Josh was my friend, had been my buddy since fourth grade when we moved here from Oklahoma. I’ve always been small for my age, I’m fifteen and about five-foot-three, and Josh is and has been a big guy. Six-one or so now and maybe 160 pounds.

I don’t even weigh a hundred pounds and haven’t grown any since seventh grade. Josh has always been my shield and protector from the sort of bullies who pick on the smallest kid in the class. In return, I helped him with his homework. The guy can’t spell sith.

My reaction to seeing him naked scared me. I felt like my insides had turned to ice cream, and someone had poured red ants all over me. My face burned, and my chest itched. I thought I might start crying.

I wanted things to be the same as they always were. I left Sierra Boulevard and walked two blocks over to Kern Avenue, a residential area with churches and a few medical offices. I didn’t know what to do. I ended up walking slowly back toward the basketball park. If I came up on it from this side, I could see who was on the court before they saw me.

I desperately wanted to see Josh and talk to him, but the idea also scared the sith out of me. It had been almost half an hour since I ran away, and the feelings I had for Josh were even clearer to me. My heart ached. People died for feeling about someone the way I felt about Josh right then.

I trudged along the shady length of Kern Avenue, so green and cool with overhanging trees and older buildings. Most of Kabarker was newer, browner and dustier. Ahead of me, going in the same direction, I saw a figure I recognized. Chud Fugate. Really, his name was Charles, but he wasn’t a Charlie, a Chuck, a Chaz or a Chad. If you knew him, you called him Chud. Even some of the teachers used the nickname.

Chud had been the center on our JayVee basketball team. He was tall, with long arms, seldom missed a free throw, and had an uncanny ability to know who was free to receive a pass. Okay, he wasn’t fast, he couldn’t do a layup, and his dribble got in the way of his feet, but he took up a lot of room on the court, and as an outside shooter, he wasn’t half bad.

Opposing players were often intimidated by his size. Especially if he snarled at them. But he wasn’t a bad guy at all. Kind of shy, friendly if he wasn’t making a game face, and a little funny cause you didn’t know what he might be about to say.

I’d forgotten that he lived on Kern Avenue. His dad was a minister in one of the churches. He was probably headed to the basketball court, too. I wasn’t sure I wanted to overtake him, but even walking slow, I probably would. Chud didn’t do anything quickly.

I had a lot of thinking to do, and continuing efforts to distract myself kept getting in my way. It was obvious that my feelings for Josh had been taking an increasingly alarming direction for some time. But what could I do about it?

All of the things I knew I wanted to do would just make matters worse. Now that I was aware of how I felt…. Seeing him naked with a hard-on was like what I’d always supposed taking drugs would be like. Mind-blowing.

Oop!

First of all, there was the size. His size. I didn’t get a hard-on very often, and…and never like that! Nearly a foot long, it looked to be. Okay probably not. Maybe three times my size in length times girth? Maybe four? I tried not to compare such things, but I knew I was built small. On the basketball court, I made my small size into an advantage.

But thinking about Josh’s physical being was having some weird effects on me. I thought I might be getting a hard-on myself, and my chest itched, my face burned….

I looked up and discovered Chud standing right in front of me. The big guy looked confused.

“What are you doing here, Robin?” he asked. “Don’t you live on Aviation Way? You should be coming from the other side of the park. And where’s your bike? And your ball?”

I shrugged. “In the back of the shops. Josh was sleeping in. I didn’t want to wake him up, so I took a walk.” I started around Chud, who was still blocking the sidewalk.

“Huh,” he said. “You two are practically joined at the hip, most of the time.” He sort of leaned to one side, so he was still in my way. He grinned at me as if what he had said were funny.

I felt my face burning, and I stepped onto the grass to continue around the big lump he made in the universe. “Just…. Don’t…” I said, and my voice went up like it does. My voice hadn’t changed yet, but stress made me a bit squeaky.

He gave me room to get back on the sidewalk by stepping onto the inner grass himself. “Lover’s spat?” he asked. “Josh taking someone else to Prom?”

He was still grinning, not scowling. I realized he was just joking, but something in my expression caused one of the trained badgers he used for eyebrows to arch its back. “Hey?” His grin got a bit wider. “Did you two really have a fight?”

“No,” I managed to say. “I haven’t even talked to him.”

Chud snorted. “You went up to his bedroom and caught him jerking off?”

“Crap,” I muttered, not loud enough to be heard. All the wind had gone out of me. It got quiet.

He swung in beside me, walking on the grass and letting me have the sidewalk. “I bet you saw his dick, and it scared you.” His jaw moved like he had found a forgotten gumball. “He’s like a Mack truck down there. More like a Peterbilt.”

I was ahead of him now. I thought my head might explode. I turned and punched him just above where a human would have a navel.

“Ugh,” he said mildly. I knew how to throw a punch, but it might have been a butterfly’s kiss for all he seemed to feel it. His expression changed a bit to show that mean face he used to intimidate opponents on the court.

I turned and ran again. I’d just hit Chud, the biggest guy in school. I knew I could outrun him, though, so I took off.

“Hey!” he said, only a little louder than his grunt. “Are you telling me this was the first time you’d seen it? We’ve all been in gym class together for, like, half a year?”

His laugh followed me, but I kept running.

He was so damn beautiful.

When I reached the basketball courts in the park, Josh was already there, playing Horse all by himself. He had his own newer ball and my old worn one lay against the pole holding the basket up. He took a shot, and the ball went cleanly through the hoop.

If there had been a net, it would have made that sweet sound a good shot makes when the ball’s pebbly hide just kisses the cords.

He must have heard me running because he turned as he reached for the ball coming back at him, and he smiled. He had on gray gym shorts that I knew said Kabarker in purple letters above the left knee. And the Grateful Dead T-shirt his dad got at a concert in Calaveras showing Jerry Garcia in psychedelic colors.

His shoes were the worn-out pair he liked to wear when horsing around. No socks. The fine hairs on his legs were black like the hair on his head and chest, and the shadow around his chin and upper lip. His eyes were that bright brown; I think they call it hazel.

In the distance, a helicopter rattled above the desert, probably on a training flight. Somewhere further away, a jet engine purred and growled like they do when being tested on the ground.

Josh smiled at me, and I smiled back. I wondered if he could hear my heart beating. He was so damn beautiful.

*

Other guys arrived, including Chud, and we chose sides to play 3-on-3 half-court ball. Shirts versus skins, the usual, but suddenly, I didn’t want to take off my shirt. I had felt my nipples crinkle up looking at Josh, and there was no way I was going to play skins.

Josh had already pulled off his shirt, but I looked at Chud who still wore his, and I said, “I’m on your team, big guy.”

He nodded, but he had a sort of secret smile that worried me. The other guys who had all been on our JayVee squad picked sides, so it was Josh, Benny Marquez, and Ali Shah; all bare to the waist, versus Chud, me, and Dan Seaborg with our shirts on.

Keeping score was optional, the idea of the game was moving the ball constantly, taking shots, and making passes. The morning had lost any chill it had had, and we all were soon sweating. The light gleamed on Josh’s muscles, and I tried not to think about it.

About what? I didn’t want to think about what the about was about.

The game was rowdy, with lots of shouting and grunting, but it stayed friendly, and everyone was allowed to take their shots without getting fouled. The routine typically began with taking a pass in a forward corner, dribbling to backcourt, passing defenders, and then coming upcourt to take a jump shot or a lay-up. A successful goal meant you earned another circuit, but you had to make two more shots before starting the cycle again.

It was a pleasant way to work on ball skills and hang with your buddies at the same time. Two more guys arrived, and we switched to 4-on-4 after a break. Two hours of this went on, and we were ready for a longer rest, some Gatorade, and sharing a big bag of Cheese Curls.

The paperbark eucalyptus lining the Kern Avenue side of the park provided nice shade, and I sat with my back against a trunk, smelling the spicy menthol of the leaves and thinking vaguely of koala bears. I’d heard that they ate eucalyptus and wondered why we didn’t have any locally since we had tons of such trees planted in public spaces.

Chud levered himself onto a concrete bench, facing away from the picnic table it was sort of attached to. He seemed amused, and I kept an eye on him while trying to watch Josh horsing around with Gary Swopes, a long, tall senior from our school who had played on the Varsity team and was slumming on Saturday morning with us juniors and sophomores.

Josh and Gary were pushing and shoving and trash-talking each other; Josh, as a Skin, still bare to the waist, while Gary was supposedly a Shirt player for the moment, but he had pulled off his tee to cool down. The hair on his head was brown, but his body hair was red.

“You got it bad,” Chud said, and I felt my face turn red.

“Is it just our man Joshua, or does Snake turn you on, too?” Snake was Gary’s nickname, not just for his lanky shape but for his habit of making poisonous remarks just to get a rise out of people. He spent a fair amount of the school year in detention when he got so careless as to use his talents on members of the faculty.

I shook my head, not answering Chud’s insinuating question, so he asked another.

“How long have you known?”

“What?” I hadn’t meant to say anything and regretted it immediately.

“How long have you known that you’re gay?”

“I’m not!” I protested. I wasn’t looking at him now but knew his smirk had turned into a grin.

He scoffed, a noise like a boxer dog coughing up a Chihuahua. “I’ve known since I was nine,” he said.

I did turn then and stared at him. “What?” I asked, not sure what it was he thought he had known for nine years. “You… Me? I mean…?” I got to my feet, confronting him. “What?” I repeated.

His grin got wider. “Maybe you’re a slow learner?” he suggested.

I looked away to where younger kids were playing softball on one of the diamonds at the other end of the park. I got closer to him while making motions to brush grass and twigs off my shorts. “You’re gay?” I whispered.

He barely nodded. “Imagine my surprise,” he murmured. “All those wrestlers on TV that Abuelito and I watched.” He shook his head. I knew that Chud’s Mom was Hispanic and that Abuelito meant Grandpa in Spanish, and the local Spanish-language TV station was full of wrestling programs. It was like the national sport of Mexico and for a lot of Mexican-Americans, too.

“How…” I began, but I couldn’t think of what question to ask.

He laughed. “I’d try to teach you the password and the secret handshake, but you really are a slow learner, ain’t you?”

I frowned at him, and he laughed again.

“You’ve got a cute pout,” he said. “Does Josh like it when you beg?”

I glanced away to where Snake and Josh had been, but they had moved to the free-throw line of the nearer half-court and seemed to be starting a new game of Horse. Josh was facing me, and my gaze went to the crotch of his gym shorts and the bulge there.

“You’re going to have to learn not to do that,” said Chud. “Your turkey-timers pop right out when you do.”

I glared at him, but I had no idea what he meant until he grabbed me and pulled me closer. I couldn’t get away from his big hand around my upper arm while with his other hand, he grabbed first one nipple, right through my shirt, and twisted. Then he did the same to my other nipple. “These!” he chortled.

It hurt— a lot. I staggered when he let me go then, for the second time that day, I ran away.

“You’d better get out of there. Snake is coming this way.”

I made it to the restrooms in the center of the park, but no one had followed me. It wasn’t that long of a run but I stood there, just inside, gasping like I had finished a half-marathon and staring at my reflection in the stainless steel mirror.

My face was flushed but pale around my mouth. I could see my chest, and my t-shirt had two wadded-up spots right over my nipples, which still ached from the twisting Chud had given them. I started to lift my shirt but changed my mind and pulled down and out on the neck to look inside.

The view was unsatisfying so I glanced around to be sure I was alone and lifted my shirt after all. In the mirror, I could see that the flesh around my nipples looked angry, red, and swollen. I touched one and it felt hot and puffy, also tender.

I pulled my shirt down and stared at myself in the mirror. The little chest lumps were clearly visible, each coming to a small rounded point. I had little titties like some of the girls had started growing back in seventh grade.

Was Chud the only one who had noticed? How had I not noticed before now? Would they get bigger? My eyes were stinging as I tried to imagine a future starting from this point.

The big guy’s voice came from outside the restroom. “You okay in there?”

I made a noise, a grunt or maybe a sob.

“I’m sorry, Robin,” Chud apologized. “Sometimes I’m just an asshole.” He paused. “Did I hurt you?”

I nodded but he couldn’t see that, so I grunted again. In the mirror, I saw that my eyes had filled with tears.

Then Chud spoke again. “You’d better get out of there. Snake is coming this way.” Meaning Gary Swopes, a senior who often played basketball with us.

The restroom had stalls but no stall doors, just that they didn’t open into the main part of the room and were set at a ninety-degree angle. Not stopping to wonder why I should want to hide, I moved into the stall farthest from the door. I even sat on the stool and lifted my feet so my shoes couldn’t be seen.

Outside the restroom, I heard Chud greet Snake with a terse grunt, and get a similar response.

Gary came in, whistling something between his teeth, another reason for his Snake nickname. I tried to stay quiet while listening to Gary pull his shorts down, and then use the urinal with much splashing. I found myself wondering if he was particularly snakelike down there, too. This made me smile, and smiling made my nose itch because of the tears I had shed before.

Right in the middle of Gary’s relief break, I sneezed.

Gary cursed loudly., ending with a demand, “Who the fuck is hiding in here?”

I got down off the stool and took some tissues from the dispenser. Blowing my nose, I stepped out of the hidden stall. “It’s me,” I admitted.

Gary still stood in front of the urinal but had taken a step back, now missing his target. If the smell of the open urinal wasn’t enough, the reek doubled its potency as a yellow pool spread across the cement floor. “You made me piss on my shoes!” he said, pointing at his feet.

I couldn’t help it. I didn’t look at his feet; I looked at his hand and then at something else pointing down. It was a bit snakelike, in a general sort of way, and that made me smile again.

Gary glared at me, then looked down. “You little queer!” he accused. He shook his “snake” and put it back in his underwear, then pulled his shorts up while I stood there, holding my snotty tissue in front of my face to hide my smile.

I knew Gary was mad and that I shouldn’t smile, but I had noticed that the curly hair of his groin was almost black, darker than the hair on his head and not like the red stuff growing on his chest, arms and legs. So, smiling was required. Gary was a calico.

Once he had put things away, Gary got back to cussing and calling me names. He waved his arms around, too, yelling that he would make me pay for a new pair of shoes.

When I saw Chud looming in the doorway, I decided I should get out of there. I yelled, “Chud!” and tried to dodge around Gary when he turned to look at the door.

“You little cocksucker,” Gary protested, swinging his long arms to try to block me.

I did the small forward moves I used on the court and avoided him, but Chud was still filling the door. I bounced off his belly, and Gary grabbed me from behind.

“Let me go!” I screamed. There are no referees in bathrooms, so I retaliated instead of waiting for a foul to be called. I grabbed his big hand in both of mine and dug my thumbnails into the web between his fingers.

And suddenly, I was free, and Chud backed up so I could go around him. Chud stepped sideways as I sped past him. “Go home, Robin,” he warned me in a loud voice. Then he stepped back into the doorway, slamming Gary against the doorframe with his bulk.

“Get otta my way, Lardo!” Gary screamed.

“Oh, y’shunna said that,” Chud commented mildly.

I didn’t look back. They were about the same height, but Chud outweighed Snake by at least fifty pounds, with the tactical advantage of not really trying to go anywhere while Gary was still inside the toilet.

I headed straight for the back door of the Merrit family businesses, intending to retrieve my bike and get out of Dodge. Or at least out of the park and the whole downtown area. Snake was likely to remain unhappy, no matter how the struggle with Chud turned out.

Josh shouted at me as I ran past the courts, where everyone seemed to be taking a break to drink Gatorade. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“I dunno,” I lied. “Ask Gary! He and Chud are going at it in the restroom.” I didn’t feel proud of the misinformation, but if Snake got free, he could still probably catch me before I got my bike out to the street. Maybe a conversation with Josh would slow him down.

I dashed through the backdoor of the Merrit shops, ignoring the stairwell leading to the living quarters, and dodged into the storage room behind the bridal shop. The heavy outside door had swung closed behind me, making maneuvering the bike backward into the hallway and holding the big door open while exiting difficult.

Usually, I had Josh’s help with this part, but I could hear his voice from across the courts; he’d apparently gone toward the restrooms, probably to try to break up the fight.

I had the bike into the alleyway between the business block and the park now, but it had taken too long. I could hear and see Snake roaring toward me, with Josh shouting in pursuit. I didn’t see Chud at all, which worried me a bit. He and Snake were both known for being dirty fighters, and I hoped the big guy hadn’t been hurt.

I got on my bike, figuring I could come back for my basketball. Once on my wheels, I could evade Snake so I headed for home.

The last I heard was the laughter of the other players as Gary shouted at Josh, “Your girlfriend was spying on me taking a piss! And she bit me!”

I hadn’t bit him, I’d used my fingernails, but I wished I hadn’t heard that and pedaled harder.