A Royal Holiday Read online

  A Royal Holiday

  By Emery C. Walters

  Published by Queerteen Press

  Visit queerteen-press.com for more information.

  Copyright 2014 Emery C. Walters

  ISBN 9781611526790

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America. Queerteen Press is an imprint of JMS Books LLC.

  * * * *

  A Royal Holiday

  By Emery C. Walters

  After everyone else had left the cafeteria, Sid sat down at the teacher’s table and finished off the principal’s piece of pumpkin pie. Not the part he’d barely touched with his fork, but everything else. The principal—on principle, ha ha, always took some of everything and then only briefly, if at all, tasted it. In short, he wasted it. Sid was aghast at how much he, and the other teachers, left on their plates. The kids were just as bad, but that was to be expected. You could tell which kids had the free lunch and who bought because they could by how much wasted food was left on the plate, or the table, or the floor. He himself should have gotten the free lunch, but his step-father wouldn’t stoop to ‘charity.’

  Thus he and his siblings always brought their own. His bag lunch that he made himself usually was a peanut butter sandwich. Frankly, after his younger siblings got through making their lunches, unless he made them for them the night before, there wasn’t much left for him at all. Sid, however, was determined that they would not go hungry. This morning he’d slipped his own sandwich into his brother Pete’s bag, because he’d noticed Pete was growing again.

  Being the oldest sucked. Maybe he could learn to be a selfish prick, like his step-father, Ben. He curled his lip at the idea.

  This punishment was sure making up for his problem though. If he’d known he’d be sentenced to clean up the cafeteria for a month, he’d have smashed Dave Grove’s nose in for him a long time ago. This brought his fingers to his own face, his cheek and eyebrow, where the bruising was still changing color, and the stitch tape that was holding his eyebrow together was still barely holding on against the swelling. The school had refused to pay for an ER visit for him because all of Dave’s friends said he, Sid, had started it, had thrown the first punch, as by God he had. Right after Dave’s size thirteen Godzilla boot found its mark in the new kid, Royal’s, crotch, sending him to the floor in agony. This had only been a couple of hours ago, after first hour English.

  Royal was new this year. He’d only been here a few weeks. Dave had spotted him right away and begun his vicious but fun, for him, filled verbal torture almost immediately. That was in early November. Now it was the first of December, their senior year, and the only good thing so far was this ‘punishment’ in the cafeteria. The food, oh my God, the food. What was it Scarlet said, I shall never be hungry again, or something? It was a late Thanksgiving and early Christmas present, all rolled into one. The fact that he had to miss study hall to do this was not an issue at all.

  Sitting in the principal’s office after the fight, watching Dave’s father—the mayor—come for him and take him off to the hospital, was rather emotional. Mostly Sid was shocked at his own violence. It made him feel amused, horrified, and proud, all at the same time. His biggest fear in life was turning into his step-father and he abhorred violence. But still…

  The first time he’d seen Royal, Sid had wondered about him. Here was this new kid, standing in the locker room, taking off his clothes to change, as they all were. However; from the far side of the room Sid had seen this golden boy, his arms stretched up over his head, just his hip in view below the waist, and Sid’s heart had stopped, dropped the beat, dropped his whole stomach right onto the floor. It took his breath away. This first look wasn’t sexual at all, but the sheer beauty and vulnerability of Royal in that unguarded moment would never leave him. All the other looks after that, however, had defined for Sid who and what he was.

  Dave Grove, 6’2” tall and head of everything sports wise, was the serpent in the locker room paradise, if you call the addition of one boy paradise. He had been picking on Royal ever since he started school here, but before that he had picked on Sid. Sid didn’t understand why he couldn’t punch Dave on his own behalf, but turned all noble and stupid for some stranger. Well, he thought, licking pie off his fingers and looking at an untouched hot dog with hunger, it might have something to do with wanting…no, he wouldn’t think of what Royal’s crotch might look like all black and blue and swollen. He’d seen it in the locker room anyhow, as he had many others. And, um, where was he? Oh yeah, uh huh…better eat that hotdog. Blushing, he stuck the end of the hotdog into his mouth and sucked the juices out of it, not noticing the door to the hallway open. Not until he had half the hotdog sucked into his mouth and his eyes closed, still thinking blissfully of what he’d tried not to think of.

  “I came to thank you,” said a quiet voice at his side.

  Sid was somewhere between choking and exploding by then, but his feet came off the table in a rush and he coughed hotdog out his mouth and, unfortunately, his nose. This was greeted by someone snorting back laughter. Eyes met eyes. It was Royal standing there, bowed forward some, but standing.

  When Sid was finally able to speak again, he blurted, “I—I don’t normally suck, I mean…it was kind of small…I mean…and—juicy. Um, so there.” He found a napkin and wiped his face. He had an almost irresistible urge to add, “I meant to swallow that,” but managed to restrain himself.

  Oh God. Royal had sat down and was knee to knee with him. Royal was blond and had the deepest sea blue eyes Sid had ever seen. It almost seemed like too much beauty all in one place. Sid’s own puke brown eyes and hair were just lame in comparison. His ability to suck down half a hotdog at one time, though, and then swallow…he felt heat rising in his face. Fuck. He was blushing, wasn’t he. Furiously.

  Oh. My. God. Royal tilted his head and blew his hair out of his beautiful eyes. “How’s your…” he started to say, but damn his own mouth, Sid had started to ask the same question. “How’s your…”

  “Oh your poor face; it’s all swollen,” Royal said. “Did you get someone to look at it? Will it hurt if I touch it?” Royal pouted and asked, “Should I kiss it, and make it all better?”

  Uh…he said ‘look at it,’ and ‘swollen,’” Sid thought, swallowing hard, overcome with giggles. “Is yours? I mean, did you? Is it, uh…Should I, um,” he blurted again. Oh God! No, Royal, don’t run your tongue over your bottom lip like that…

  So. The heat in his face wasn’t the only thing rising. Royal smiled prettily. Jesus, he had dimples. It figured. He looked coy all of a sudden. He wrinkled up his nose. “Well,” he said with a shrug of one shoulder, reaching for his zipper. But then his face turned serious and his eyes darkened. “They called us both faggots. I am. Are you?”

  Sid just nodded. The impish devil he could not subdue wanted to be gleeful, but this was not the time to express that
, maybe. Answering that question for the first time, and to someone whose statement had just made his life, was staggering enough.

  Royal said, “Are there any more hotdogs? Some ‘homo sausage’ would go good right now.” Boy, could he bat those eyelashes, and wait, did he have on eyeliner? He did, didn’t he? Oh dear God. I want to marry this boy and have his babies, Sid thought.

  “By the way; I’m out,” Royal added. “I don’t care who knows I’m gay. That fat bastard got me by surprise but I do know a few tricks for—prevention, self-defense, that sort of thing. Revenge even.” He smiled. The whole room lit up. The devilish gleam in his deep-sea blue eyes did nothing to lighten the seriousness on the rest of his face.

  “The way they treated us was just wrong and I’m not going to stand for it, either for myself, or for anyone else. My dad says, if you don’t stand up for what’s right, then you’re wrong too, plus if you don’t stand up for yourself, then who will? Wrong’s wrong.”

  Sid looked down at the floor, abashed. This had been the first time he’d ever stood up for anyone, and he felt ashamed of that fact. For all Royal knew he stood up for what was right all the time, but he knew. Something shifted inside his mind, and he just looked up at Royal and said, “Thank you.”

  “For what?” asked Royal. “I’m thanking you, you ijit!”

  Royal smiled and launched himself forward, landing in Sid’s lap. He leaned close, wrapped his arms around the very surprised Sid, and kissed him right on the lips. “See? Thank you!” And after a very pleasant minute he asked, “Friends?”

  And before Sid could even nod, the ebullient Royal tugged on Sid’s arm, and they toppled over onto the floor where they pseudo-wrestled like two ten year olds. “Get off me!”

  “No, you get off!”

  “Ha ha, you said ‘get off’!” and such, with some tickling, some semi-accidental groping, skin on skin when the shirts got pulled up (accidentally) and all that sort of thing. It was great fun, with much laughter, giggles and snorts, and some heavy breathing, until the principal walked in. Mr. Herman stood there, tall and professional looking, exactly like he had looked earlier in the day, looming over them like an oversized raven on Edgar Allan Poe’s nightstand.

  Both boys looked up, locked together like pretzels, arms and legs intertwined, smiling gleefully. Sid’s hand was up under Royal’s shirt, so that it almost looked like he had him by the neck. Royal’s hand was lower down, and had just unsnapped Sid’s jeans and had slid halfway under his belt. Nonetheless, the Mr. Herman did what some adults do best; misread the entire situation to fit his own beliefs, and let’s be honest, experience. “Fighting again? Shame on both of you! Your fathers are going to hear of this.”

  Sid thought it was hilarious. So did Royal, you could tell. They both made faces that indicated it was better to be thought fighting than, ah, enjoying each other so…forcefully. “Would you believe,” started up Royal, “We were just wrestling? Practicing for the team?” He grinned like a guilty Cheshire cat, slowly slipping his hand back up to a less interesting position.

  Mr. Herman shook his head, his eyes narrowing behind his black plastic framed glasses that he got at the Navy base exchange.

  “No?” asked Royal.

  Mr. Herman added a scowl.

  Both boys then managed to work their faces into what passed as hateful grimaces. It wasn’t easy. They were both (still) fully clothed, which was good, so there was that. Good thing he’d come in when he had, though. Somehow Sid remembered that he thought his first time should be glorious, not banging on the cafeteria floor amidst the squashed peas, mashed tater tots and rainbow fruited Jell-O, especially with a disapproving audience. So it’s just as well it got interrupted. It might still have been terrific, but nobody had a condom anyhow.

  Mr. Herman was not amused. “Get up and get to my office. Now,” he growled.

  They spent the next hour throwing peas and making faces at each other across the principal’s office, signaling their phone numbers, and then texting each other their addresses and sending dirty messages that had them both trying hard not to giggle. It was the best detention Sid had ever had, way better than this morning for sure.

  They had agreed to meet later, after supper, maybe go Christmas shopping, or—something. And if Sid hadn’t had to walk his sister home from school, he would have never left Royal’s side, once they were released. He tried to be rational about it, but all he came up with was disappointment and impatience. It had been a lifetime since he’d had a best friend, maybe even longer. He had to laugh at himself. With a sigh, he headed over to the elementary school. He felt like his life was headed for a much-needed change, and he welcomed it eagerly, and to be honest, a bit fearfully as well.

  It wasn’t as cold as it usually was this late in the year. His sister wanted a white Christmas but Sid didn’t think it was going to happen. He already had her present bought. As far as he was concerned, hers was the only present he’d give. He knew that if he didn’t buy for his other siblings and his mother, though, that their day would fall quite short of ideal. All too often his mother ended up in the bathroom crying anyhow, with his stepfather presiding over the living room and shouting beer-fueled insults at whatever sports show was on TV, sometimes with an equally beer-indulgent friend he’d invited over from the bar.

  His thoughts couldn’t stray far away from his time with Royal though. His heart filled with joy one moment and in the next he berated himself for being an idiot. Sucking down a hotdog? Oh my God. And he’d forgotten to finish cleaning the cafeteria. Maybe he’d get to, well have to, clean it for another month. The prospect of all that free food was wonderful. Maybe Royal would have to clean it with him? Ha ha. That would be so cool. Oh my, am I in love? he asked himself. It’s too soon for that, isn’t it? And who cares! That boy is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

  As he made his way across town to his sister’s school, his mood and his face changed at least a dozen times. Happy, fearful, proud, ashamed, scared, and then that whole love thing again. That feeling was so totally radical, so new to him. Of course he loved his family, well, some of them, especially his little sister, but still, this was different. It wasn’t just a teenage romance, he thought, because when you’re gay, you have this whole ‘don’t get a crush on a straight boy’ thing. And for God’s sake if you get a crush on a gay one, don’t let anyone know. Also, don’t get your hopes up, because you live in a small, backward hick town. You go to a small school. You know everyone, and then the ever popular question that wracks you every night, lying there in the dark, what if I’m the only one, what if I am all alone. There is nobody else like me. I’m alone and I’ll always be alone. Everyone else is ‘normal.’ You know in your head, you read it online, that it’s normal to be gay as well, that it can be scary to discover this about yourself, that nobody chooses it and it’s not a choice anyhow. You discover it. You uncover it, he thought. He realized that the words ‘everybody else’ and ‘nobody else’ were trigger words for him, and comparing himself to ‘everyone else,’ was not a healthy thing to do. Not for him.

  Yeah, you uncover this about yourself, that you’re gay. It was like digging up a dead body when you’re expecting a treasure chest.

  Sid began to think about what it would be like to be out and proud. Out of the closet. Sure of himself and okay with who he was. Accepted by his family, his friends, his school. Opening that door, coming out, would be like a smash course, a crash course, in self-acceptance—and courage. What would really happen though? Would he get kicked out of his house? It might be a relief, if he had somewhere else to go and a way to earn money. Hmm. Something to think about that he’d never dared think about before. As for school, he was getting called names and being bullied anyhow, so what difference would it make? Would it be better or worse? Would his present friends still accept him or would they flee in horror? Would he find new friends, friends like himself? And lastly, what about gym class? That sent a shiver up his spine.

  He knew the lo
cal police had just started an anti-bullying program that so far had only a phone number you could call to report bullying. He’d not paid it much attention as his peers and he himself had been so indoctrinated against ‘tattling.’ Tattling was apparently a huge crime. Apparently it was a far worse crime then the mental and physical torture he and some of the other kids, gay, fat, slow or whatever, were receiving every day.

  He could list dozens of comments/philosophies that in the long run, seemed stupid and even pro-bullying. ‘Don’t come running to me, solve it yourself, deal with it, don’t be such a baby, what did you do to make him…her…them…’ All of that and more. Those awful, niggling, belittling tapes that played over in his own head if his stepfather/teacher/principal wasn’t there to say them themselves. ‘Blame the victim, you shouldn’t have dressed like that, it’s your own fault, don’t make me, it will hurt me worse’—all that parental bullying piled up on top of that from the teachers and other students. He checked himself every night to make sure he’d said something positive to each of his younger half- and step-siblings. Sometimes he slipped and turned into their father, and he made himself go apologize. He dreaded turning into that kind of person, feared it worse than death. So much so that sometimes death…well, then who would be there to try to help his sisters and brothers? What kind of role model would that be? He could never do that to himself—or rather, to them.

  Musing, he almost got knocked over by the little red-headed bombshell that was his sister. Seven years old and strong as an ox, though small for her age. It always surprised him when she slipped into little fearful Janice, her alter ego, but then, she was afraid of her father. There was nothing even a fearless little girl could do against a full grown angry man. As far as he knew, he had never hit her. He only suspected that he slapped their mother. It had never occurred to him until now, for some reason, to wonder if he hurt the others.