This work of fiction is incomplete. It will eventually involve sexual contact between two boys, one 14, the other almost 13; but for now it’s all pretty innocent. If such stories offend you, stop reading now and do not download this story.
NONE OF THESE PEOPLE IS OR EVER WAS REAL. THAT IS, NO REAL PEOPLE, WITH THE POSSIBLE EXCEPTION OF THE AUTHOR, WERE INVOLVED IN THE MAKING OF THIS STORY.
If you find plot and character development boring, you might want to skip this one!
I really like SPECIFIC feedback on my writing. Good or bad, it helps me improve. I also like story ideas, though I can’t guarantee that I will use every idea since my characters have minds of their own. Feel free to leave a comment here, or email me at jordan.bradders@writeme.com
(c) Copyright 2016, 2021 Jordan Bradders. The author reserves all rights. Permission is granted to download this story for personal use only. It may not be published in any other forum, web site, magazine, granite block, golden tablet or book without my prior written permission.
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Chapter One – The Away Game
(c) Copyright 2016, 2021 Jordan Bradders.
Paul sat in the stands watching the baseball game. He wasn’t really a fan but his mother had insisted that he accept Mickey’s dad’s invitation to attend. He didn’t really think of himself as Mickey’s friend — he had the impression that he and his friends only barely tolerated him — but he often found himself attending cop gatherings because his single mother worked for the Township Police Department as a secretary and occasional auxiliary officer. He actually got along well with most of the officers but didn’t do nearly so well with boys his own age, possibly because of his lack of interest in sports. Mickey’s dad seemed determined to correct that problem. The night-shift Sergeant had taken him under his wing, possibly because he knew he didn’t have a father. He didn’t mind the attention, but he just wasn’t as interested in sports as Mickey and his friends. That, he reflected, was only one of the things that set him apart from most other boys.
The Sergeant kept up a running commentary on the game. Apparently, a hopeless optimist, the man seemed determined that the Bobcats were “due for a win.” Paul watched as their first two batters got on base, having been walked. Even the non-athletic boy could see that the other team’s pitcher was pretty bad, almost hitting one of the boys with a pitch. He probably wouldn’t have noticed the third batter at all except that the Sergeant nudged him and said, “Watch this kid; he’s good.” Then the man sighed. “Never mind. The coach just gave him the ‘take’ sign.”
Paul looked up at the disgusted tone in the Sergeant’s voice and lifted an eyebrow, indicating his incomprehension.
The man opened his mouth to explain as the pitcher wound up and released the ball. His mouth snapped shut at the sound of a resounding crack as bat struck ball. Paul turned just in time to see the small white orb flying over the head of the right fielder. The Sergeant was on his feet now and exclaimed, “If there was a fence out there, that woulda been a homer!” The man’s excitement was obvious as the batter rounded second and stopped at third. The big man put up his hand for a “high-five,” saying “A stand up triple. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Didn’t I tell you that kid’s good?”
‘I could pitch better than this kid,’ Paul thought as the next pitch hit the ground in front of the batter. The catcher ran forward to catch it, but it got away from him. The Sergeant grabbed his arm and directed his attention at the shaggy-haired blond who was running hell-for-leather toward home. The catcher grabbed up the ball and ran to intercept him, but it was too late. Paul grimaced at the sight of the boy diving headfirst to slap his hand down on the plate.
The Sergeant literally jumped for joy. “Three-nothing and no outs,” he almost shouted. But all Paul could think was of that face he’d seen coming straight at the plate, only inches from the ground. ‘I hope,’ he thought,’ he didn’t damage that pretty face.’
After that, Paul was fixated on the tall boy with shaggy blond hair. “What’s his name,” he asked the Sergeant.
“His name’s Eric.” He turned and looked down at the diminutive ninth grader. “Can you believe he’s only in seventh grade? Mickey tells me he plays football and basketball, too!”
Paul watched the exchange of back slaps and high fives around the bench, feeling a little jealous of the camaraderie. Then he watched as the coach called the seventh grader over, apparently to praise him for bringing in three runs. Then the boy ran off and started to play a hard and fast game of catch with another boy. Turning to the Sergeant with a disappointed tone, he asked “Are they taking Eric out of the game?”
The man laughed. “No, it looks like coach is putting him in to pitch.”
Paul grinned but shook his head in confusion. His eyes were on the boy some on the other team called “Goldilocks” when what he was starting to think of as “his team” scored another run. He laughed happily when the Sergeant almost knocked him over as he jumped around excitedly. ‘This,’ he thought, ‘is turning out to be more fun than I expected.’
His excitement grew when Eric took the mound, his shoulder-length blond hair framing his very young-looking face. ‘Did I look that young when I was in seventh grade,’ he wondered as he watched the boy exchange looks with Mickey, who was crouched behind the plate.
He started to feel more confident in his understanding of the game as he watched and listened to the Sergeant’s comments. The first batter hit the ball, but the first baseman caught it and he was out.
The second batter swung and missed the first pitch, then hit the second. The outfielder got under it and they had a second out. ‘This really is starting to be fun,’ he thought as the third batter moved into position. ‘That’s one big kid,’ he thought. ‘Is he really in high school? Did he get lost on his way to college… or the Marines?’
Eric threw his first pitch, and it was a strike. ‘This kid really is good,’ he thought. He giggled as he thought ‘He’s not just a pretty face.’ The Sergeant turned and looked at him, then shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention to the action on the field.
The huge batter slammed the ball down the middle, but the shortstop snagged it for the third out.
Suddenly, the excited fan grabbed Paul in a bearhug and spun him around. “I can’t believe it,” he shouted. “We’re winning!” Paul was relieved when the man put him down, reminded once again of how small he was compared with some of the other boys. Standing five-foot-four and weighing in at 110 pounds, he wasn’t the smallest ninth grader in his school, but he surely wasn’t the biggest.
The team didn’t score, and Eric was back on the mound. ‘Where are they getting all these giants,’ Paul wondered as yet another really big boy came to the plate. Eric wound up and hurled the ball. It looked to Paul like it went right over the plate, but the boy didn’t swing. The Sergeant grumbled but said nothing when the umpire shouted “Ball.”
Eric threw another pitch, which the Sergeant said was a “slider.” Again, the batter just stood there and let it pass. This time, the umpire shouted “Strike.” Only then realizing that there are different kinds of pitches — that pitching is more than just throwing the ball, Paul started to pay attention to the movement of the ball as it went from the pitcher’s hand to the catcher’s mitt. ‘They all look the same to me,’ he thought.
Paul could almost feel the impact in his bones when the bat contacted the next pitch, but it went wide. The umpire shouted, “Foul ball!” Bat hit ball again, but it was another foul. Paul could see that the ball would go into orbit if this boy ever connected solidly.
Eric hurled the ball yet again. Paul noticed that the ball did something different this time: it seemed to drop several inches just before crossing the plate. He made a mental note to ask the Sergeant about it later but didn’t take his eyes off the pitcher. ‘There’s something about those beautiful eyes,’ he thought.
Another batter took the plate and Paul turned to the Sergeant. “At least this one isn’t a freakin’ giant!”
The Sergeant nodded and laughed but kept his eyes on the pitcher as he threw for a ball, then two strikes. Paul felt the excitement as the smaller boy tapped the ball, but it went out. “Foul ball,” shouted the umpire.
The Sergeant muttered “Full count” as the tall blond boy stared intently at the catcher, then shook his head. He wound up and threw what seemed to Paul to be a faster pitch. It blew by the batter as he swung and missed. Another strikeout!
Caught up in the excitement, Paul jumped around and cheered. He didn’t notice the Sergeant grinning at him.
Mickey’s dad grumbled again as the umpire shouted “Ball” after each of the next two pitches. Paul couldn’t see it; those pitches had looked pretty much like most of the others. The batter connected with the next pitch, but it went foul. Looking frustrated, he swung at the next pitch and missed. The same odd exchange passed between Eric and the catcher. Paul started to wonder if they were trying to agree on a pitch, but then his attention was captured as Eric threw another very fast pitch. The batter swung and missed.
Paul leapt into the air, shouting “Strikeout,” as if he knew what he was talking about.
The Sergeant turned to him, grinning like a loon. “You gotta love this game,” he shouted. “He just struck out the side! A freakin’ seventh grader! I can’t believe it!” Paul saw him coming this time so was able to elude the bear hug.
The excitement continued as the Bobcat ninth grade team got a hit, which put the batter on second base. When Eric came to bat again, the Sergeant didn’t need to get Paul’s attention. His eyes were on the beautiful boy when he hit the ball to the right, driving his teammate in for another run. The next two batters struck out, stranding Eric on base, but they were up four to nothing. The Sergeant was ecstatic. “They’re finally gonna win one!”
Paul was disappointed when Eric didn’t take the mound again. The Sergeant explained that he was limited to 20 pitches due to his age. ‘Shit,’ thought Paul, who had really been enjoying watching the movements of the younger boy’s lithe body. The other team scored six runs in the next two innings.
Paul thought he saw a tear in the Sergeant’s eye when his son, Mickey, hit a grounder that turned into two outs, ending the game. The Sergeant pasted a smile on his face and turned. “That was a close one. If they coulda kept Eric in, they woulda won!”
Paul and the Sergeant talked about the game on the ride back to the school. Mickey, Eric and the other boys, he knew, were on the team bus. They waited in the parking lot for a few minutes before Mickey ran up. “I invited Eric to the barbecue, dad.”
The Sergeant dropped him off at his house. “You and your mom coming to the barbecue, Paul?”
Though he usually demurred from these invitations, Paul enthusiastically nodded his head. “We’ll be there, sir!”
So it was that just a few hours later Paul found himself looking up into the most beautiful set of eyes he’d ever seen.
Chapter Two – The Barbecue
Mickey and his friends had always been nice enough, but Paul had never really felt they had much in common. On the other hand, he had even less in common with the adults, so he always gravitated toward the boys during these gatherings. ‘Besides which,’ he had laughed to himself, ‘there’s always the chance I’ll meet Mr. Right.’
He found himself standing in a circle with Mickey, Liam, Caden, Lucas and Alec, large plastic cups of soda in hand, talking about the game, when Eric arrived. He didnt think anyone noticed when he didn’t join in the laughter when the younger boy asked for juice or water instead of soda. He knew what it was like to feel different from everyone else. Trying not to be too obvious, he made an effort to make eye contact with the younger boy as he bantered easily with his fellow jocks.
He smiled appreciatively as the older boys seemed to make an effort to make the middle-schooler comfortable, asking him lots of questions about himself. He noted that the boy seemed a bit uncomfortable when one of them asked if he had a girlfriend. ‘Maybe,’ he thought as Eric explained about a girl who was a friend, rather than a girlfriend. After a while, he noticed that Eric was returning his looks. He almost melted when the pretty boy smiled at him. ‘Oh my god,’ he thought. ‘What if?”
Seeing that it was all in good fun, Paul did join in as the group made jokes about the seventh grader being a robot, and was pleased when Eric acted as if he was in on the joke. ‘This,’ he thought, ‘is a smart kid,’ when he commented that he was to be decommissioned and used for parts if he failed to fit in on this, his last mission. He wondered if that was how the boy actually felt: desperate to fit in with the other boys.
The Sergeant, who had been hanging out with the adults to give the boys some privacy, came over and told Eric “If we had you to close the fifth and sixth you guys would’ve had your first win!” Paul could see that the younger boy was pleased, but he didn’t seem to get full of himself like some boys might.
Paul went to get himself another drink then stopped briefly to talk with his mother, who informed him they would need to leave soon. When he turned back to the group of boys, he saw Eric walking toward the house. Seeing his chance, he intercepted him. “Dude! I’m not a big baseball fan, but that game today was really great. Even I can see that you’re really… ummm… good.”
Eric looked down at him, smiling, and said “Thanks.” The younger boy had seven inches on Paul, but his most striking features were his long blond hair and his piercing blue eyes. ‘Up close, he could see they were flecked with gold. I could stare into those eyes forever,’ he thought.
Seeming embarrassed, Eric said, “I was on the way to the bathroom” and started to move away.
Impulsively, not wanting to miss his chance, Paul blurted out “You know you’re beautiful, right? I’d love to… ummm… get to know you.” Afraid that he’d blown it, he half-turned and said “Gotta go. My mom gonna want to leave soon.” ‘The ball’s in his court,’ he thought as he almost literally ran away.
Eric stared after him, confusion and excitement warring within. Had he misunderstood? ‘He said I’m beautiful. Boys don’t say things like that to other boys. Not unless… could he be a gayboy like me?’ Sporting a boner, he hurried through the house in search of the bathroom. Though he knew he wasn’t huge down there, he was afraid he’d run into someone who would notice the lump in his shorts. ‘There it is,’ he thought as he spotted porcelain through a partially open door.
Pushing down his shorts he considered jacking off but rejected the idea. ‘No way am I gonna do that in Mickey’s house,’ he thought as he tried to direct his erection down into the bowl. Though most guys would think about baseball under these circumstances, he thought instead of his older sister, who’d always called him ‘little brat.’ That did the trick, and he was soon pointing his almost four-inch penis down into the bowl. His thoughts returned to the older boy. ‘That kid,’ he thought, ‘was kinda cute… and like he kept looking at me and all… and what he said!! Wugh! I hope he’s still here when I finish… like I wonder if he’s like in ninth too. I never seen him before. Like he must be if he’s friends with Mickey and the other guys. What was his name again?’ He shook off the last few drops, tucked himself back into his shorts and carefully washed his hands before returning to the backyard.
Paul stood waiting on the outskirts of the backyard, part-way between the adults and the boys. An outsider– a non-jock among a group of athletes and their families — he knew he’d be screwed if the seventh grader called him out as queer. He was, of course, prepared with an explanation. The younger boy had misunderstood what he’d said. He’d meant only that his pitching had been “a thing of beauty.” But he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d somehow managed to get through his first year of High School as a cypher, invisible to the elite. He wanted to keep it that way, but it could all be over because of one impulsive act.
After what seemed an inordinate amount of time the younger boy stepped out onto the patio. He didn’t make a beeline for Mickey and the other boys, as he might have if he wanted to share what “the little fag” had said. No. He seemed to be scanning the backyard. ‘Is he looking for me,” Paul wondered. It had been the fourteen-year-old’s plan to stay out of sight and watch to see what Eric might do. But he just couldn’t do it. Knowing that he was risking disaster he stepped from the shadows and smiled at the blond boy.
His senses alive to every detail, Paul watched as the beautiful boy walked toward him. ‘Smiling. That must be good. Right? And he’s walkin’ kinda casual, like he doesn’t wanna be noticed. Would he do that if he was planning to yell at me? Or punch me out?’ Paul had seen for himself just how strong the younger boy was. ‘If he punches me, I’ll go down like a bag of rocks,’ he thought nervously.
None of that happened. The younger boy stammered. “Hey… ummm… like I’m sorry…I like kinda forgot your name.” He giggled nervously. ‘Not so good for a robot… my memory banks are supposed to record everything!” He giggled again then fell silent.
‘Damn,’ Paul thought as he stared up into the other boy’s eyes. ‘He’s fucking adorable.’ All of his fears forgotten, he talked fast, before he could lose his nerve. “That’s okay. I’m Paul. I meant what I said. I think you’re gorgeous and I want to get to know you.”
Seeing that his mother was signaling him and not wanting the other ninth graders to grow suspicious, he reached into his pocket and handed Eric a slip of paper. “That’s my cell and email. Text me any time.” Smiling, he looked around the crowded backyard and added “Maybe we could get together somewhere private and you could explain baseball to me. I’d love to help you out. I could maybe polish your bat for you. Or maybe I could carry your ball bag.” His eyes twinkling, he laughed “I promise to be gentle with them.
Just then, Paul’s mother called his name sharply. She had to be at the police station for her next shift in just a few hours and was anxious to get home.
Paul looked at Eric and smiled. “I guess you’ll have to give me that ball-handling demonstration later”
Not breaking eye contact with the younger boy, he backed away several paces. “Really. Text me. I’m at you’re service, stud.” Then, waving his goodbyes to Mickey and his dad, he ran to catch up with his mother. ‘God I hope he doesn’t throw away my number.’
Chapter Three – Emails
Paul paced about the small apartment he shared with his mother, checking his phone for messages every five minutes.
His mother, who was preparing to leave for her night shift at the police station, noticed and asked, “Are you okay, sweety.” She knew he had very few friends, making this behavior unusual, even for a boy known for his unusual behavior.
Paul gave the answer that had become his standard over the past few years. A slight edge to his voice, he said “I’m fine, mom.” He didn’t elaborate but did slip his phone in his pocket. He loved his mother but hated it when she questioned him about his life. Especially when she questioned him about girls; and he knew that was what she was thinking. ‘How am I supposed to tell her she’s never gonna have a daughter-in-law or grandkids,’ he thought miserably.
He breathed a sigh of relief when his mother took her regulation Glock .40 caliber pistol from the gun safe, slid it into its holster and demanded her hug. “You’re never too big to hug your mother,” she said as she pulled him tight.
Truth be told, her job made him nervous; he typically worried the entire time she was gone. He knew she didn’t go out on patrol, but even desk duty could be dangerous. Tonight, though, he was glad to see her go. His anxiety had gone up every minute since he left the barbecue and he wanted to be alone with his worries.
‘Did I misread him? Maybe he’s not gay. Did I scare him off by being too aggressive?’ He got up and paced some more, then checked his phone for what had to be the hundredth time. Then he realized that he’d given Eric his email address, as well. ‘Did the kid even have a cell phone?’
He took the stairs two at a time in his rush to get to his bedroom and turn on his computer. He had an email, but it wasn’t from Eric. In fact, it wasn’t from anyone he knew. But he opened it anyway.
“hey paul
so…. ummmm…. i like really … well , geez… you like … ih i dunno…
thnaks for giving me your email and all… and like what you said when i was going inside.
and like after i came out… omg…. maxi bad way to phrase thst huh?????
hahahaha
so like…. ummmm…. are you a gayboy??”
Paul stared at the screen, frozen, thinking back on what he’d said after the younger boy had come out of the house. “Oh my god. He must think I’m some kinda freak.” Reading the email again, he realized that he’d laughed about it. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘he isn’t mad or grossed out or anything.’
He clicked on reply but sat unmoving for a very long time. ‘How do I respond to this without making it worse?’ He started typing:
“hey Eric
sorry about that. didnt mean to freak you out. was just playin around… kinda…
just wanted you to know … umm… I like you…”
He stopped and looked at what he’d written, thinking of what would happen if the younger boy forwarded his email to Mickey or Alec or Lucas or one of the other boys. That last question terrified him. He knew he’d never have a boyfriend if he didn’t take a risk, but did he really want to do that in an email? ‘No,’ he decided. ‘That’s too much.’
“maybe we should talk in person about… ummm… stuff like that.
sorry if i scared you… im not really like that… sometimes i just say stupid stuff cause i dont know what to say
i just want to be your friend… ya know?”
Paul re-read what he’d written, then got up and went to the bathroom. Then he went downstairs to make himself a snack. He returned and read the email again but still didn’t press [SEND]. He went and took a shower, his mind whirling.
Thinking about the baseball game and the barbecue and the pitcher, his hand found its way down to his penis, which was already stiff. This was where he always jacked off, since his mother had accidentally walked in on him in his bedroom. He pictured the younger boy, up on the mound, his entire body stretched out as he prepared to throw the ball. He couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under that uniform. Did he have hair under his arms yet? Between his legs? Both were huge turn-ons for Paul. It didn’t take long before he was spraying the wall of the shower with his semen. His eyes closed, he waited for his heart rate to drop, then rinsed down the shower. His mother always got on him if he didn’t clean up after himself. He suspected she knew what he did in there.
He returned to his room, sat down at the computer and deleted everything he’d written.
“Eric…
sorry i was such a dick… your right… that was a maxi bad way to phrase that… i just wanted… i mean
i want you to know… i like you a lot… and… ummm… yeah im gay… i think your maxi sexy
you can fuck me up at school if you show this to anybody but i don’t care
i want you to be my friend
paul
ps… i do care — please don’t show this to anybody”
Knowing he’d change his mind if he waited, he pressed [SEND], then sat at the computer, stunned by the stupidity of what he’d done. ‘If he shows that to anybody, I’m fucked.’
Still naked, he walked through the house turning off lights and checking doors. His mom always laughed that it would be embarrassing if a cop’s kid got kidnapped, but he knew she worried about that, so he checked every night when she was gone.
Then, unable to shake a sense of impending doom, he turned on the TV and searched for a good horror or sci-fi movie. Or even a bad one. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, maybe ever again. ‘There’s no way to take back an email,’ he thought as he scanned the program guide.
Paul came awake a few hours later. He turned off the TV, rechecked the front door and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Though he didn’t expect to find anything, he checked his email, turned off the light and climbed into bed. Though he was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he dropped off in less than a minute.
He awakened again to the sounds of his mother bustling around in the kitchen. He staggered into the bathroom and peed, then pulled on some clothes, his eyes on the computer. ‘No point checking now,’ he thought, looking at the clock. ‘The kid’s probably not up yet.’
Remembering that he’d been a bit surly with his mother the night before, he struggled to be pleasant. She seemed surprised when he asked about her shift at the police station and showed what appeared to be genuine interest in her answer. They talked about the baseball game he’d attended the day before and the time he spent hanging out with the other boys at the barbecue. She was so happy with him that she didn’t even ask that he clear the table and load the dishwasher. “You go ahead, honey. I’ll take care of this.”
Paul returned to his bedroom and moved the mouse to wake up the screen. He had an email. It was from Eric! He dropped into his chair, excitement and fear warring for control.
“hey paul!!
oh geez…you werent or anything…i …i just didnt know
..well…you like took me by surprise i guess!! hahaha
so like you for sure dont have to worry …i would like
never…ever…EVER….like tell anybody. and you used the ‘f’ word.
i guess its like maxi goofy…but i dont..like use it..or any swear
words. my rents say its demeaning and they dont…even my big brother
doesnt that i know of even. i dunno…it like that words even sounds
mean.
sorry..i can get chatterboxy. thats what my mom always called me
…her ‘little chattebox’ ..except like now im not so little. like im
guess im kinda big for my age and all..well tall anyways!!
so like i guess i shuold tell you..like i really dont have any freinds
freinds…like i know you seen with the mickey and the guys…
…but that like was the first time today. like after i played k
and all. but im hoping to be …like their friends
and maybe you too?? if you would want to be maybe. like im still in
the middle school and all. and i will be next yr too. and im in all
the excl classes. and am like kinda k in sports. like i really dont
fit in anywhere. and then there is the way i feel…ummm…..well
..yeh..like in person huh??
thanks for writng me back and all paul.
and like what you said…you really think im sexy?? hahahahaa…im just me”
Paul furrowed his brow in thought. ‘I wasn’t what?’ He looked down at what he’d written and nodded. ‘Yeah, I kinda was a dick.’ He read on to see that the younger boy had given him a pass, saying that he’d just taken him by surprise.
He sighed in relief at Eric’s next words: that he didn’t have to worry, that he wouldn’t tell anyone. But then he frowned. Apparently, his younger friend had been offended by his use of the “f-word.’ ‘Wow,’ he thought as he recalled listening to the swear words coming out of some of the other ninth grade boys, especially in the locker room before and after PE class. He read on, nodding at the boy’s reasoning, and a little bit jealous. ‘Parents – plural,’ he thought. ‘And a big brother, too.’
He grinned at his apology for being “chatterboxy,” thinking ‘What a great word.’ He reflected that he used to be a bit of a chatterbox, back when he thought people wanted to hear what he had to say. Now he knew better. ‘Maybe,’ he reflected, ‘Eric has it better. Maybe people actually listen to him.’ His smile returned at the thought of the tall blond boy being “little,” given that he had to crane his neck just to look him in the eyes.
‘Oh god,’ he thought. ‘Those beautiful blue eyes!’
He nodded again when the boy told him he didn’t have any friends; that he wasn’t really friends with the boys at the barbecue but wanted to be. ‘Same here, dude,’ he thought miserably. ‘At least you’re a jock; you’ve got a chance with them.’
He finished reading the email, grinning when he said he “played k.” Then he clicked the [Reply] button and started writing.
“Eric –
thanks for not bein mad… i kinda was a dick but ill try and do better
sorry for the f-bomb… its kinda a habit… but i wont use it if you dont want
i dont really have friends either … those guys put up with me cause my mom works with mickeys dad
it feels kinda lame to ask but u wanna be friends?
like… i know ur in middle… but… like… we could find a way… u know?
i live right by the pizza place… u ever go there?
mickeys dad says ur more than k in sports… i dont play sports… i hope thats not bad
i used to be in excl classes… but not anymore…
i meant it… ur sexy… but thats not the only reason i wanna be ur friend
im glad you wanna talk in person… maybe u cud text me
maybe we could meet after school tomorrow or something
or maybe even today if u want… or u cud just write back
thanks for bein cool about what i said and all
and thanks for writin me back”
Paul read and reread his reply, changing a word here or there until he thought it sounded right. Then he clicked [SEND]. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, a big smile on his face.
A few hours later, Paul checked his email. ‘Yay,’ he thought. ‘Another email from Eric!’
“hey paul
its k if you do.. swear and all.. like most of the kids on my teams do.
i just dont. like i guess i dont really get why they do. maybe to sound older … or tuffer maybe.
i like just want to play my best and like let that be my voice.
mickeys dad is maxi nice. …he really know the game too!! he goes to like all of them.
so…. unmm …. im kind of a good at sports nerd . like after school , before practice or games,
i like try to crash in as much homework as i can cos i dont get home till like 6 or later if its a
away game. and with dinner , a shower, and then finishing my homework its 9 like maxi fast and all.
i know 9 sounds maxi el lamo for bedtime, but im like up at 5 for my route!
geez… did you like know im a carrier? another notch in my nerd belt!!
but i have mad money saved!!!!! like i dont buy amything.. so i save it all!!!!! haha
anyways, so like i dont know about after school.
and O M G…you live next to village pizza ??
we go there like every friday…. it is like my for sure all time fav!!!!!!
so, ummm, like maybe we can talk like this for now..and then like if there is a time we can meet ?
is that k??
and so you know and all…. i think you are preemo cute.
so like … yeah.. being friends would be maxi awesome!!!
Eric”
He tried to consider the email line-by-line, but kept going back to the final two thoughts. ‘He thinks I’m preemo cute and being friends would be maxi awesome!’ Without any further thought, he clicked [REPLY].
“hiya Eric
nah… i don’t need to swear… my mom doesnt like it when i do… i figure i only do it to fit
in… and i dont think im ever gonna fit in anyway… i like what u said about letting the way
u play be ur voice… i wish there was something i was that good at to be my voice
mickeys dads friends with my mom… hes always nice to me… i think he feels sorry for me cause
my dads not around… i think he told mickey to be nice to me too
now i get why the guys were callin you astroboy… ur like a machine! hahaha
i guess id be want to be in bed by 9 if i had to get up at 5… i dont ever get up till i have to…
like never before 630!
i wish i was more like u… i kinda put off my homework till the last minute… dont always get it done
guess thats why im not in excl classes anymore… hahaha
i dont care if ur a nerd if you dont mind me not bein a jock…
i hope ur k with that cause i really wanna be ur friend
i was tryin to think of a joke about all the dollars u got saved but i couldnt think of one…
<insert joke here> hahaha
i live in an a block behind the pizza place… we go there sometimes… maybe ill just show up
friday night… hang out till you get there ;>)
i think ur sexy and u think im cute… im k with just talkin here but… i hope we can do more than
talk someday… u know… like hang out
ur freind paul”
Paul sat back looking over what he’d written. He was starting to get a good feeling about this. ‘I hope the Sergeant doesn’t think it’s weird if I get interested in baseball all of a sudden,’ he thought with a grin. He pressed [SEND] then took his backpack from behind the door, suddenly overcome by a desire to finish his homework.
Chapter Four – ??????
(This story is obviously not finished. Do you have ideas on what should happen next? Drop me a line or two and let me know!)
Email me at jordan.bradders@writeme.com