Two college boys come up to us. I recognize them as Kappa Sigs from our frat gig fiasco that Fall.
“Still inciting riots?” one of them jokes.
“Our friends are the inciters. We merely give ‘em cause as an excuse.”
They both laugh. “Let’s move this party to the frat. You guys need to finish a set fer once.”
“Ya sure y’all kin handle a bunch of high school retards?”
“S’long as y’all stay away from the keg, it’ll be cool.”
“That’s yer look out.”
It doesn’t take long to get the word out that the gig is moving to the frat. Tom comes running up.
“What’s gonna happen with all them here pizzas I got a’comin’ outs my oven?” he complains.
“I’s the delivery boy. We’ll deliver ‘em to Kappa Sig.”
I run back into the Pit.
“Y’all listen up. This party’s movin’ on to Kappa Sig at Iowa State. If’n ya don’ts know where t’is. Just follow the smell of pizza.”
John Boy and I go over to the Harlan kids, sitting disgruntled in a corner.
“We’re sorry your participation in the tournament and this here party wasn’t to yer likin’,” I try to be conciliatory.
John Boy suddenly gets his voice back. ‘We’re all kids, just like y’all. I understand that the church folk in Harlan hates me, but I cain’t hates y’all. It’s hurtful ya thinks I’s the devil. I went to that preacher in Harlan to show I has the same faith as y’all.”
“Ya shoulda died. That there snake knowed yers the devil.”
The Regis Knights arrive, ready for more battle. John Boy steps between the two gangs.
“I gots a hella lots of devil in me but it don’t make me not love Jesus. I knows he loves y’all, too. Church ain’t about hate and fear of other faiths.”
He expects his words to make a difference, the hallmark of perfect manners. The Harlan kids turn away from him. John Boy shrugs, puts his arm around his defenders. We all leave to resume celebrating at the frat house.
“Ya gots yer voice back. Didcha rilly ‘spect ta change their ways?” I ask.
“No big thing ‘bout them hicks. I jist hadda face my fears and prove ta maself that I don’ts need someone else ta defend me.”
I gave him a quick kiss, pleased that it isn’t my fault he lost his speech this time.
“Stop. What ah youse doin’?” all of the Regis boys are in shock at our kiss.
“Andy’s my boyfriend. That’s why them Harlan boys is so agitated.”
Now the Knights are confused. Had they been tricked into defending a queer boy? They look around, spotting their weekend dates, the comfort squad. They retreat to welcome arms, lips, and several unprintable places.
“There go my defenders. I guess being national champs ain’t enough fer ‘em.”
“Well, ‘Gator’s football players will still defend ya.”
“I ain’t afraids no more. I kin stand up fer maself now.”
“Not gonna lose yer voice no more?”
“Done with that.”
I kiss him long, hard and deep. Several wolf whistles ring out. Off to the next party. It’s mostly the college crowd, as few of the high school bowlers are allowed by their coaches to attend. The Harlan team leaves immediately, with the Ames cheerleaders all wishing them ‘God-speed.’ We play our own original songs, as well as Southern Rock covers when the energy dips. A new original is played for the first time,
“This is our life,
our pride alive
It’s our times
Lost our minds
Stupid rules rule
Demand we act
Just like fools
To be like you.
Look at me, you havta scream.
You think we be freakin’
You gotta be fast to not be seen.
No wonder we always be sneakin’.”
We follow it with ‘Sneakin’ Around’
Never been caught
All over town
Better than not.
Thrill’s in the chase
No time to waste
Folks on my case
All is in haste.
Waiting’s the worst
You were my first
I need you now
We’re on the prowl.
Back of an alley
Sprawled in the dirt
No time to dally
Who will cum first.
shaka shaka love?
‘shaka shaka love shaka shaka
Shaka shaka love shaka shaka.”
Set your your buddy on fire,
Better buy a rug.
Send your friends to hell,
Better get a priest.
Beat up a bully,
Better get a gun.
Look before you leap
Better to say no
Then end up in a heap
No place to go.
Leap, leap, leap
You friggin’ freak
Leap, leap, leap
Strip and streak.
Beat up your friend
Get new friends
Steal a new car
You won’t get far
Dis some sweet lass
A beating comes fast
Look before you leap
Better to say no
Then end up in a heap
No place to go.
Leap, leap, leap
You friggin’ freak
Leap, leap, leap
Strip and streak
It seems odd doing it without Robby or Michael there. The college kids just enjoy fast music that gets them moving, if not exactly dancing. When the energy starts to ebb, we threw in the Eagles or John Denver songs we do at the house to perk up the crowd. The ‘Sex’ songs go over well, with John Boy camping it up. As always, the girls love our fagging off, with their boyfriends totally intimidated. For the first time, I realize that the boys holding firmly onto the girls is not just possessiveness but also for protection, from us, their worst gay nightmares. Everyone demands an encore, so we do our band song, ‘False Gods.’ Again, Robby’s possessed stage antics are missed. The frat crowd is well entertained and keeps cheering for a second encore.
“I guess, ya rilly like us. John Boy’s here from New York City, so y’all gots ta hear us play our ol’ band songs. Now I’s in Ames and he’s in the City. This song by Simon and Garfunkel is how he felt after I visited, ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’
‘Tim, get your plane right on time
I know your part’ll go fine
Fly out to Iowa
and here I am,
The only living boy in New York
Hey, I’ve got nothing to do today but smile
and here I am
The only living boy in New York
Half of the time we’re gone
But we don’t know where,
And we don’t know where’
“Guess he misses me,” as I wink at him. “Now he’s here with his New York school mates.”
“When Andy visited, one thing we did is meet John Lennon’s son, Julian,” John Boy relates. “He taught us a Paul McCartney song which comes out soon with his new band, Wings. It’s called “Just a Silly Love Song.’
It goes well at first, with both of us singing first to the audience, ‘I love you,’ and then turning to each other. Suddenly John Boy loses his voice. I keep singing to him, as he keeps playing guitar and looking totally flustered. The twins rush over to surround us. I sing, ‘how can I tell you about my loved one.’
“Gator jumps up from the drums and the four of us are hugging John Boy. His voice comes squawking back, ‘I love you.’ The girls in the crowd love it. A boy in the back yells out, “Faggots.”
“Go back to Harlan, asshole, with the rest of the haters.” Several boys rush the hater out the door, to prove themselves to their girlfriends. We finish with ‘Band on the Run.’
“Time to go, boys. And thank you, girls, for supporting our love for each other. We love you, and your boyfriends.”
Gender-bending rules at Kappa Sig. As Dr. Kam says, frat boys just need girls to self-actualize.
Back at Hyland Street, ‘Gator wants John Boy and me to attend a football team party that night. The moms have prepared a special steak dinner in honor of our State and National Championships. We all feel somewhat silly, considering there were only ten teams in the tournament.
“It’ll look good on your Harvard application,” Molly asserts.
“You applied to Harvard?” John Boy is truly surprised.
“Yeah. Why not? I gots ta take the SAT tomorrow.”
“That’s our last day together. I’ll hardly see you,” John Boy complains. I half expect him to stop speaking. “Don’tcha worry. I’ll never stop speaking again. I’ve faced my fears. I knows ya always loves me.”
“Don’tcha worry ‘bout missing me tomorra. You’re signed up too. We’re takin’ it together.”
“Hell, I’ll take it, too,” ‘Gator is not one to miss a competition.
“We both took it last Fall. Y’all is retarded,” the twins are always a step ahead.
“Whatcha all get?” ‘Gator is in competitive mode.
“Oh, we did fine,” Amy answers.
“What’s that mean. I need numbers,” ‘Gator isn’t about to let them slide.
“Why do you care?” Angie was feisty. “They even require y’all to take the SAT ta git inta State?”
“Hell, no. They just require I run the 40 in under 5 seconds.”
The rest of us have no clue what that means.
“Y’alls comin’ to the party?” ‘Gator reasserts his need to get us to do his bidding. The twins let him spend time with his cheerleader to work off hormones.
“Sure. Those boys want another crack at me?” John Boy is feeling cocky.
Everyone else laughs at him. ‘Gator is out the door to pick up his ‘date.’ The twins toss me their car keys. I don’t ask why they’re letting ‘Gator ‘date.’
“We’ll bring guitars and amps and git them boys a’hoppin’,” I suggest, our third show of the day, plus the bowling tournament.
When we walk in, the party comes to a screeching halt. We ignore the attention and set up the amps in the living room. John Boy straps on his guitar and challenges our frenemies.
“Y’all wants a piece o’ me? ‘Gator won’t be here fer ‘whiles.” He starts the intro to our new song,
We got two moms We don’t need dads
Our lives are songs
So we won’t be sad
We grew up with each other
That’s just what twins do
Then along comes our brother
Now we’re triplets too
Normal’s not happenin’
May be good for you
We’ll keep on truckin’
Triples better than two
We got two moms
We don’t need dads
Our lives are songs
So we won’t be sad”
It seems odd to have the twins with us and singing pretty much about their lives. The footballers don’t seem to notice. The confrontational words mixed with an up-beat tempo get them moving forward and surrounding us. I don’t notice any residual antagonism from our last football party encounter. It’s intimidating to be surrounded by all these jocks. John Boy knows exactly what song to do. His aggressive leads on guitar have us pushing back against the crowding jocks. Once they start pushing back, we launch into ‘Fuck Off’
“Don’t fuck with me
Might take ya down
Gots ta be free
Hate makes me drown
Anger sees me seethe
Can’t seem to breathe
Yer arms on me
I gots ta be free.
Get outta my face
This ain’t the place
To make a stand
To be a man
Your nose I’ll crunch
My knockout punch
Will put ya down
La La land bound.”
John Boy throws down his guitar and runs at the nearest footballer, shoving him back and swinging his arms over his head in attack mode. I keep playing, repeating the words and playing the rhythm, to keep everyone on the beat. The players react to the assault by attacking each other, confused about the stricture to defend us, ‘Gator’s best friends. It’s a swarming mass of testosterone. All the girls retreat to the back of the room. No blows were thrown, just whirling dervishes of swinging arms and thrashing bodies. ‘Gator arrives to what looks like a repeat of the New Year’s massacre, except John Boy is the focus of battle while I calmly play guitar and shout out the lyrics. He quickly recognizes a scrum/scrimmage and jumps in to defend John Boy. The footballers start circling the two of them, pushing each other in a clock-wise direction. The whirlpool of bodies quickly knocks down anyone too slow to join the phalanx of thrashing boys. The girls at the back, sensing the lack of real anger, start pushing any boy not in the whirling mass into the phalanx. John Boy and ‘Gator are pushing outward and the girls push inward, trapping the boys as the phalanx speeds faster and faster – Sambo’s tigers are turning into butter. It’s sweet. As the thrashing peaks, I end the ‘Fuck You’ song with a downbeat. Everyone stops. ‘Gator puts John Boy on his shoulders and runs around the room with his posse and the other players snaking behind him. Hormones are raging, as the boys grab their comfort girls and start making out on the floor in a mass orgy. Clothes are flying off in all directions. It’s time to exit before John Boy and I attack each other. ‘Gator is alone, so we grab him and drive back to the Hyland House.
“Why’dcha not attack yer comfort girlfriend?” John Boy asks.
“I gots a better plan,” ‘Gator announces. The twins need to be warned. Once we get home, the three of us march up to the third floor. John Boy pulls me into my bedroom, leaving the twins defenseless to ‘Gator’s desires, whatever they are. I’m too excited to interfere. From the sounds coming from the other bedroom, I know it will be my turn to admit to jungle love disturbance in the morning. The Regis boys flit through my mind, but I figure they are back at the orgy. They will need confession before Sunday’s mass.
I need to fuck John Boy so badly that Jace instantly appears to help. I attack him, while Jace let John Boy take him doggy-style. As soon as someone cums, we switch around to other positions, 69, 99, 66, and every other mathematical combination. We keep switching anytime anyone cums. I get off at least three times, not counting the first two orgasms. Maybe, as well as bowling, we are national fucking champions.
“I’m a double national champ,” John Boy crows.
“Hell, you’re the three-way champ too,” Jace signs.
When we think we’re done, we all get in the shower together, which presents more fucking positions.
The hot water runs out with all three of us lying on the shower’s floor. Jace waves his dick and laughs at us as the cold water chases us out of the stall. He is insatiably horny and insensate to the cold.
As the sun comes up, John Boy jokes that we’ll ace the SATs that morning with sex-driven genius. I groan and fall asleep. In an hour we’re drinking coffee, ready to be tested at school. ‘Gator is nowhere to be seen.
“You really want to go to Harvard with me?” John Boy asks, testing my allegiance to follow him anywhere.
“Will you follow me if I decide to skip college and become an adult in the Real World?”
“Just keeping our options open?”
“Whatever we decide, it’ll be to stay together,” I promise.
“I love you so much.”
“Not enough to stay here in Ames.”
“I have to tell Mummy about going speechless twice this weekend. She’ll never allow it.”
“I can’t go with you to the City, either. My family really loves me now. We’ll visit until we graduate.”
“Who knows what’ll happen before then. 2 ½ months can be a lifetime in Tim’s World.”
“I’d forgotten about him.”
“Yer always Andy now?”
“Here in Amesless, I-o-way.”
We kiss and sit down in the school cafeteria. Mrs. McCarthy looks shocked. We know better. Three hours later we’re finished. Comparing notes, I feel I’ve done as well as John Boy, better in English but not so much in math. It’s an unfair competition in the sense that he doesn’t need to score well as he is already accepted by Harvard. The test is more aptitude/intelligence than what we have learned. The fact that I’m applying to Harvard is more important than my actual acceptance – that’s out of my hands. John Boy is pleased that I’m committed to our being together next school year. I remember his opinion that I need real life experiences whereas he needs more preparation. What strange adventure is he on?
We arrive home shortly before the moms return from Church. Mom has taken the Regis boys to mass, whereas Molly and the twins go to Baptist services, taking Seamus along when he asks to attend for the ‘experience.’ – New Yorkers?? ‘Gator calls to say his parents insist he eat Sunday dinner with them, after missing his chores that morning. There are still ten of us for dinner. Mom has gone all out with a large roast, pan-roasted potatoes and baked Alaska for dessert. Her maternal instinct has blossomed in Ames. We are due to meet with Dr. Kam at 3pm. John Boy calls the parents, confessing that he relapsed twice while here, although he recovered quickly, thanks to me and the rest of the gang. Nonetheless, Mummy insists they send the Lear to bring everyone back to New York. I want to go with him. The moms only agree we can visit each other on weekends, not during the school week. Our fate apart is sealed. It seems weird that as a 15-year-old I ran off to New York and Hollywood without anyone knowing, as well as jumping into gang warfare and selling myself as a male prostitute. Life was so much easier as a rebel.
We’re ready for Dr. Kam’s magic. I trust his insight and life experience to solve our issues. He immediately hugs me and pats John Boy on the back to make us feel at ease. We list our ‘issues,’ as he asked: 1. My PTSD 2. John Boy’s hysterical loss of speech 3. Our trust issues 4. Next year’s plans 5. My bisexuality 6. John Boy’s need to be bisexual to keep up with me 7. My attention addiction 8. John Boy’s possessiveness 9. My dad issues, as in being hard on myself to please him not me. As the list grows longer, we agree that one session is not enough to tackle them all. My PTSD is being addressed in relation to my need to never lose control. My diminished sex drive from the rape is a different matter. Considering the amount of sex we experienced in the last few days, we accept the reasonable conclusion that I’m back in the dick department. The mirror image of John Boy’s hysteria to my PTSD symptoms indicates that he intuitively feels what I’m going through. Again progress is being made, to be followed up in future sessions. The help he is getting at Columbia-Presbyterian dovetails with my work here with Dr. Kam. Our trust issues are resolved since we agree to stay together after graduation, wherever we go. John Boy’s bisexuality is a manifestation of our trust issues, expressed as having to ‘keep up’ with me. As long as we are not exploiting girls by hiding our real feelings we shouldn’t try to repress actual feelings for girls. My excessive need for attention hasn’t caused self-destructive behavior on my part; I haven’t gone all Rock Star with abusive behaviors. The fact we played three sets on Saturday is a sign that my attention needs have built up. John Boy’s possessiveness stems from his privileged upbringing. The fact that he can’t control me is a life lesson that John Boy is forced to learn – good luck with that. My dad issues are resolved temporarily as I’m no longer living with dear old dad. On a deeper level, I must learn not to be so hard on myself or as controlling as he is. The ability to organize shows and events, as well as plotting life three steps ahead are life skills that come naturally to me. I remember how negative that trait is in people like Robby. ‘Gator is a positive example of leadership skills.
We walk out of the session in what I call a Kamikaze high. Of course, Dr. Kam insists he get all the Dakota gossip John Boy knows. We go directly to the Ames Airport where the family Lear Jet is waiting. Everyone else is already there, including the comfort ‘girlfriends’ with all the Regis boys. Everyone tears up as we say our good-byes, except ‘Gator, of course. He delivers the benediction.
“Y’all come to Ames, lost in yer little worlds, aimless perhaps. You return as more, the national champions, but also ambassadors from the City and now spokesmen for our country ways. I know we’ll never fergit y’all and trust y’all never ta firgit us. Ames is in yer hearts ‘cause we’s the heartland. The City’s in our heart ‘cus its jist so borin’ out here.”
Everyone laughs, cheers and hugs each other. The Regis boys are still shocked by John Boy and me kissing. Everyone else at the airport is too. I don’t try to hide my hard-on. It has to wait until next time. The boys hoist their national championship trophy as they load onto the Lear.