The Shooting Gallery
Julian’s Private Scrapbook, Part Three
a summer fantasy
by
Eldot
The Troop 9 Chronicles, Year 1
Copyright 2012 by Diphra Enterprises LLC
All rights reserved
Parts One and Two are also available at Smashwords.com:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/107171
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/115177
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 978-0-9848488-4-3
[23]
**
Gratitude to DOS. A man of courage and a friend always. —Eldot
Author’s Note: The Shooting Gallery is a sequel, third in the Julian’s Private Scrapbook series. It begins precisely where Part 2: The Poker Club ends. Contextual clues about and references to Parts 1 and 2 are occasional only; repetition of previous material is avoided. If a reader did not experience either Barr’s Meadow or The Poker Club, it is strongly recommended to read the synopsis that has been provided as an appendix, as well as the Preface to the LJR series. In addition, detailed descriptions of Camp Walker and Barr’s Meadow from Part 1 are included. These may not be absolutely essential, but will likely answer most questions that arise. See the Diphra website for more bonus material.
The maps and floor plans from the previous books are inserted in places where they could enhance the Part 3 story. The glossary and index include information about characters and components that were introduced and developed in Parts 1 and 2.
The placement of this story in a scout camp has not been made with permission. The story is not about any organization or its activities, goals, or personnel. It is about specific fictional characters and what is happening in their lives outside of the scouting domain. Presumably much of what the characters do would not be approved or condoned by any scout organization, and nowhere is such a thing suggested or inferred. But the scouting enterprise is so universal and ubiquitous that scout camp has become nearly generic in our culture. It is a logical setting in which to focus on these characters’ lives. The scout organization in this story, entirely fictional as well, is depicted with respect and admiration whenever and wherever it is mentioned.
Julian’s Private Scrapbook is a work of fiction. Though its origin is in true life experience, it is not a memoir. Similarities to actual persons and places have been systematically modified to eliminate any basis for recognition. Some of the places exist, but are used fictitiously.
Publisher’s Note:
This book is a revision of Little J and Roger, Book Three. It is intended for a mature audience. The subject is hugely controversial and sensitive. It is not written to serve or encourage prurient interests; it contains no pornography or graphic language, but there are several intimate male/male passages. Readers who are offended by that should not read this book. All the characters in the story were 62 years of age or older at the time the story was written in 2010.
Please store this e-book where it cannot be accessed by minors.
Smashword Edition License Note:
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, or refer them to smashwords.com where it is available for immediate download.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Key to between-text symbols
~ Shift to a closeup view of a character
~~ Jump to Concurrent Event or Different Viewpoint
~~~~ Jump Forward in Time
~~*~~ Flashback
~~**~~ Scene Continued in a Following Chapter
* Interruption in Story
** Non Story Element End
*** Chapter End
**** Camp Day End
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Voices of the Morning
Chapter 3 Circle on the Platform
Chapter 5 Class Time, Think Time
Chapter 11 A Super Good Morning
Chapter 13 Penetrating the Fortress
Chapter 25 Sunday Morning Swim
Chapter 29 Geoff Goes Exploring
Chapter 30 After the First Round
Barr’s Meadow Map after Preface
Waterfront Map in Chapter 2
Camp Walker Map in Chapter 6
Scoutmaster’s Cabin in Chapter 10
Second Floor, HQ in Chapter 26
Hawk Camp/Barr’s Meadow in Chapter 29
**
First… a word from the author
Readers deserve an alert about two things: the unique purpose of this series, and the third-in-a-set phenomenon—the special challenge of starting a story in the middle of things.
The intent of this series has always been to shed light on a subject that is generally regarded as taboo. It is nearly commonplace for a young person to develop a crush on a coach, teacher, scoutmaster, priest—or a relative, cousin, or neighbor. The object of affection does not need to be in a position of authority, but he or she often is. What has remained largely in the dark and unaddressed is the adolescent’s perspective in a coming of age story that involves this social taboo.
The story too often told is one of tragic loss, cruelty, melodrama or perversion. Often it is a morality story, told by sage minds to instruct or scold; they would prefer to manipulate and control society rather than help it grow and become whole. Or, they are profiteers that seek sensational material in order to maximize sales. Sometimes one encounters a memoir that is tender, special and sympathetic. Those come closest to dealing directly with the subject. Perhaps that is because they are fact based and not doctrinaire morality tales, sensationalistic exploitation, or worse yet, aimed at the prurient marketplace.
Meanwhile, what is behind the latest story of teen suicide we see in the media? That question is never addressed—it too is largely a taboo area. The recent campaigns to deal with bullying are welcome, but they are after the fact for many, and they sidestep one of the core issues. Why has this youth fallen in love with the “wrong” person? That question is not allowed. How then, is it answered? With the pointed finger of blind prejudice. The youth is condemned outright without trial or chance to offer a defense.
Often the victims have done nothing at all other than be born. They are presumed guilty because they surely will be eventually. The doctrine of original sin has been perverted and loosed on society. It is applied sanctimoniously without regulation or supervision.
Society has not allowed itself to look through the eyes of the adolescent at the needs and drives they feel. That has been outsourced to the clinical psychologists; society generally prefers to avoid it—simply wait it out and hope for the best. It is dealt with by meaningless phrases like “You’ll grow out of this…” or “Take my word for it; one day you’ll understand…” or “This is for your own good…”
Nothing is more annoying than being patronized. The good intent is compromised by the personal offense it gives. It is a form of cowardice. The recipient, regardless of age, is ill served—and they realize that at some point. They may forgive it eventually, making excuses or allowances—or they may resent it bitterly. The point is, the unexplained problem does not always go away; it could fester into something even more difficult or impossible to manage.
The Julian’s Private Scrapbook series takes an unusual approach to confronting this social quandary: it is a romantic comedy. Throw out the villains and bullies and the prejudices that constrict the blood vessels feeding the social cranium—take a look at life afresh. Maybe if we look at life without the standard societal dressings and assumptions, we can learn something that will help us get beyond this unpleasant and hostile defect in our culture. We can rediscover what in life is beautiful and natural and fun.
Unintended consequences?
a gateway question for the second edition
Since this series first appeared there has been a mixed response. One, though, brought pause… and it seemed wise to take a second look at how the subject has been treated. The notion that these books could in any way encourage persons who are predators or who use their position or power to abuse underage persons is appalling. That is the unintended consequence question. It has caused this special preface to be written. In addition, various textual revisions are being made. As they are completed, the next edition has them in place. This is the third in the five part series to be revised. The original edition will remain available until all five books in the Little J and Roger series have been revised to become titles in Julian’s Private Scrapbook. At that time, the LJR edition with become available on a limited edition basis at the publisher’s website only.
It is not possible of course to guard against everything. There are wildly diverging tastes and interests. To accommodate them all is impossible. There are those that regard bare ankles as obscene—others find them arousing; they are neither to most people. But this series has no special agenda other than to help, and to inform by looking at that taboo head on. It does so by using comedy and everyday foibles, and it tries always to be honest as well as entertaining. That means it walks a fine line somewhere between the bare ankle and the style of sock fashioned to cover it.
The reader will have to decide for himself whether to read some of the passages. Everyone has his own line, ultimately. If it isn’t to your liking, skip to the next scene or put it away.
The Preface to the first edition has been retained; it is included in the supplementary materials at the back of the book. Readers new to the series would benefit from reading the note about style, also at the back.
The number three son…
How to alert a reader to the peculiar challenge he confronts when beginning a third-in-a-series? An analogy comes to mind—the “family constellation.” The third son is the rebel, the one who needs to strike out on his own so as to not be overshadowed by the older brothers.
The Shooting Gallery is similar; some of the episodes are bolder and independent of the first two books. But the main story thread of Julian, the protagonist, remains at the center. The alert, then, is to warn the reader that much of what happens is ongoing, and if something was missed or forgotten, it may be hard to follow or understand what a character is doing—especially when there are so many. The character index and the synopsis at the end of the book are written to help fill in the gap.
If you are interested in a deeper look the technical side of this book, there are extensive essays at the series website (see diphra.com).
—Eldot
Barr’s Meadow
Friday, Day 6
Chapter 1 Voices of the Morning
Chapter 3 Circle on the Platform
Chapter 5 Class Time, Think Time
visual elements:
Barr’s Meadow Map before the Preface
Waterfront Map in Chapter 2
Camp Walker Map in Chapter 6
Scoutmaster’s Cabin in Chapter 10
setting the scene
The scouts of Troop Nine have been in camp nearly a week. Their schedules and routines are well established. As in the previous two segments, Julian remains our protagonist. He is on a secret personal mission to learn about love and sex in ways that will prepare him for his Life Quest: Mark. We take time to focus on a few secondary characters for a while. Some of these we have met in earlier scenes, others are in the spotlight for the first time.
Friday begins in high spirits. The annual troop barbecue and songfest last night was a huge success, but it creates a wakeup surprise for some. Max’s baked beans and Brad’s onions have been fermenting overnight.
Developments in the domestic life of the Flaming Arrow patrol have stretched the limits of discretion. Nick and Tom have set up sleeping accommodations in the supply tent. Julian is fearful that Scoutmaster Mark will discover what is going on. By day’s end, stability is assured.
Introducing Kurt Davis, a member of the Zebra patrol. Circumstances bring him into Julian’s circle of friends, Jeremy, Sid and Justin. He has a grudge against Tom that he can’t talk about directly.
Introducing Andy Ashbaugh and Tony Johnson. They are close friends that, unlike most in Troop Nine, want to have more to do with Tom. Lots more.
On Tuesday the sophisticated Geoff induced Tom to join his poker club; Tom’s enthusiasm led Nick, Robin and Casey to join in the next game. Geoff was intrigued by Nick, and decides to get better acquainted. Geoff and Nick become friends; Nick gets a glimpse of the outside world.
Sid’s snorkel led to an adventure with Julian on Wednesday. It comes in handy again. Kurt wants to learn how it works. He gives Sid his first canoe ride.
Julian’s conferences with Mark continue; he learns about the need for discretion.
[Reminder: the index entry for each character provides a thumbnail sketch of what happened in the previous two books.]
**
Chapter 1 Voices of the Morning
Danny awoke suddenly: he felt pressure below. He rolled to the right and lifted his left leg slightly. Braaap! Wow… bigger than I expected. He pressed the top of his sleeping bag tight against his chest… too late. He twisted his nose. Of course… it’s Max’s beans. He flapped the bag open and closed… maybe I can fan it away or something. He got a good whiff... it isn’t too bad… someone told me once that the loud ones aren’t as stinky as the soft ones. He wiggled his butt briefly. It felt sort of good… the mild stinging sensation reminded him of Geoff, actually… Geoff’s wonderful “lessons.” He reached over to the lid of the footlocker and checked his watch. Hmm… fifteen minutes before Julian will be here to help fix breakfast for the patrol. Thinking of Geoff made him realize he was due for a little relief on the front side… I’m ready… should I do it before I have to run down the hill? Oop… another announcement is on the way… interesting, how they suddenly bubble up like this. Bwu—EET! Why do they feel better when I lift one leg and push? Lucky Tom and Nick are in the other tent... oo. Better head down the hill to the latrine. The next one might produce more than noise.
~~
Julian wrinkled his nose… he smelled something… gosh! I must have cut one in my sleep. He looked across the room… Mark’s still asleep. He held down the top of his bag. Maybe I can stop more from escaping… maybe it will fade away before Mark wakes up. How far can these things drift, anyway?
That song must be right. At the campfire last night Max led everyone in the musical fruit song. What a great time that was… just about the most fun I’ve had in scouts, and that’s saying something.
Julian was not used to cutting farts, because his mother was extremely upset by them for some reason. She must have inherited her aversion from grandma. She always took care to serve food that didn’t lead to such an outcome. Personally, Julian found them amusing. Once in a while at school someone let one go, and it usually caused a fuss of some kind. All the girls hated them, though.
He sat up again to look at the clock… it was turned at an angle, so he couldn’t tell if it was about to go off or not. The light coming through splits in the curtains told him it was plenty light outside. Might as well get up… I’ll be quiet so Mark can sleep some more. He flipped back the sleeping bag and sat on the edge of the cot. Eee! This floor is always so cold in the morning!
He stood and went to the footlocker to get a pair of socks—it’s a put-on-clean-socks day. His mom had it all planned—every other day I’m supposed to put on fresh socks and undies. She wanted it to be every day, but he told her his pack couldn’t hold all that. It probably could have, but he had to head off Sid’s wisecracks. He could just imagine Sid’s commentary as he watched a pack stuffed with underwear and socks being emptied.
Mark had been aware of a nether drift for a while… must have been a silent one. Obviously, last night’s menu has worked its way through the pipes. He sensed a little pressure in his lower abdomen. Clearly, he had one on the way—a major one. I hear Julian doing something, so he’s awake… I’d better make an announcement. Last night Mark had told Julian that a good roommate always gave a warning.
“Purple cloud—” Mark bent his left knee and pushed.
Bwuump!
Julian lost his balance and almost fell over laughing. He’d just slipped on fresh underwear. “Purple cloud!” He looked at Mark. “I never heard that one!” He was tickled by that term.
“That’s what we always called them.” Mark laughed. “We used to have contests to see who could fart the longest.” He chuckled. “Some of the guys got pretty good.” I never mastered it myself.
Julian sat on the edge of his cot. “Who won?” Fart contests! That’s one thing Julian had not imagined. Maybe it would be okay if it was outdoors.
“I don’t know. Nobody kept track, as far as I know. A guy named Terry Nelson was real good.” Mark laughed. “He had an advantage, though. He was real heavy, and he trapped it between his buns and released it gradually. It was hard to tell when it had actually been cut—it sort of went putt-putt-putt forever.”
Julian roared. He pictured Bruce in his mind… his torn paper hat in hand, inching daintily forward. He couldn’t believe Mark was talking about this!
Mark had a big one on the way. I almost forgot how much fun these are… he was too used to behaving himself. “This is fair warning… you have to choose whether to plug your nose or your ears—” He lifted up his far knee and pushed… Bwooo-ooomm!
Julian was in hysterics.
~~
Nick wondered if there was a merit badge group working on birds this year. He was curious about just what kind of birds were making all that racket out there. A convention or something was going on in the birch trees; how can they possibly understand each other? They’re all chirping at the same time. Maybe if there was an expert around I could find out. Not that it would help any. A BB gun might.
Thanks to the birds—and to the unfriendly floor of this tent—he didn’t have to rely on his alarm clock this morning. He’d set it anyway, of course. Danny got them awake just in time yesterday—he didn’t have a plan worked out yet on how to handle Julian. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out what’s going on with Tom and me. Nick figured that Julian could probably be convinced to keep it a secret, if it was approached just right. But he’s so much younger… no way can I expect Julian to understand. Nick planned to deal with it when they worked on the scrapbook article later today. The sketch of Max should be done by then… maybe I can figure out what to say by then, too. It’s essential that Mark doesn’t find out about our special bedroom. It wouldn’t be allowed… What would Mark do if he found out? It wouldn’t be fun, that’s certain. Three nights already… how long can our luck hold out?
“Mmm-hmmm,” Tom hummed in his sleep. He scratched his crotch briefly, and nuzzled against Nick’s shoulder.
Nick looked down at Tom’s face—his eyes were twitching. What’s he dreaming about? It must be something happy or agreeable. He resisted the temptation to stroke Tom’s hair… no need to wake him yet. Nick had almost learned how to deal with this new sleeping phenomenon; he was getting used to it, but it had an odd aspect… every time I roll over to get a little room, Tom follows. In his sleep! It gets so warm I have to throw off the cover all the time… and what the dickens will we do when camp is over? We haven’t begun to think about that one. He did not understand why Tom wanted to be cradled all the time. He’s a stand up macho jock during the day. Not that I’m complaining… It’s a revolution that he welcomed. But he needed to understand it so that he didn’t foul up somehow.
Oh-oh. The beast has awakened—Nick had learned how to tell when Tom was conscious. Ha! I knew it! Tom’s hand was creeping across his leg. He was being checked on… he would not disappoint.
Tom had grown quite fond of Nick’s cock. It’s a good size. He understood better now the disadvantage of having to tote around gigantus all the time. Subtleties were impossible. With Nick there’s so much I can do! He’s good at both ends! He doesn’t always wake up hard, either… yeah! Today he is! Tom zoomed down and gobbled it into his mouth in a single move. “Yeowm!”
Nick chuckled. He wasn’t sure if Tom was being playful or horny… it could be either one, or both. He stroked the top of Tom’s head as it bobbed up and down. He checked his watch on the other wrist. Borderline. He pushed his hips up gently. “We’ve only got ten minutes.”
Tom pulled off and moved up to Nick’s face. “I just felt like saying good morning like I really meant it.” He smiled and kissed Nick. He poked his tongue into Nick’s mouth and swished it across the tongue. He sat back, enormously pleased with himself. “How do you taste, this morning?”
Nick broke up; he bonked his forehead against Tom’s. “Same old, same old?”
“No, no! You’re supposed to say ‘dee-licious!’ You’re supposed to say, ‘I want a second helping!’”
Good: it’s playtime, not sex time. Nick started the underarm tickles. Tom will win that one big; after a while we can scoot over to the crew tent.
The wrestling around had an unexpected effect—sort of like shaking up a bottle of soda pop. Nick had to cut one. “Better hold your nose: musical fruit time…” He pushed. Br-uump. It was muffled because he was on his back… probably a rosy one, from the way it felt—very warm.
Tom lifted the cover up mischievously. He inhaled deeply. Nothing. “I heard it… so where’s the… hoo!” He pulled the cover tight again. “Bad!”
“I warned you…” Nick laughed. He lifted his right leg and cut another one.
“Man!” Tom was impressed, actually… hah! He had one now—a big one. He turned his butt against Nick’ side and pressed. Pwohmm! “Take that!” That felt good! He wiggled his buns as if to rub it in.
“C’mon.” Nick threw off the cover and stood up. “Maybe we can get over to the other tent and escape the cloud.” It would be good to get over there in plenty of time, for a change. Danny had to get them up the last two days. Besides, the effect of filling this tent with butt breath from two guys wasn’t something he wanted to research. The beans from last night’s barbecue would likely produce more before the day was very far along.
~~
Julian skipped happily up the path on his way to help Danny with breakfast; he started giggling again when he passed the farting post. Mark had let a couple of really big ones this morning. They’re so funny. Julian didn’t have very many for some reason. Didn’t eat enough beans probably; next time I’ll eat more. He didn’t have much experience with farts. Grandpa Oscar did though. He just remembered one time when grandma scolded him good. Her voice screeched: “Oscar Mattson, you know better than to pass gas in this house! OUT!” She made him go out on the porch. Julian laughed. He’d forgotten all about that until now. He’d almost forgotten all about grandma and grandpa, actually. That’s too bad. But he was only five when they passed on. He always liked to sit on Grandpa Oscar’s lap and listen to him read stories. He chuckled; Grandpa had winked at him on his way to the porch.
Oh! Danny’s fixing the coffee already. Julian glanced over to the crew tent. Nick and Tom were there this morning, sitting on the edge of their cots. Too bad. He wanted to get a peek of them asleep in the supply tent again. Oh well. He joined Danny at the stove.
“Hey, Julian. Guess what?”
Julian never knew how to answer that question. He envied Sid’s ability to fire back an instant wisecrack at times like this. He hiked his shoulders and made a “dunno” gesture.
“French toast today! Get the mixing bowl and tools.”
“Wow!” What a surprise. I love French toast. His mom only made it on special occasions, like Easter Sunday. Julian hopped to; assisting Danny during breakfast is fun—I always learn something new. He peeked into the supply tent as he got the mixing bowl and stirring spoon. No way to tell for sure… I bet Nick and Tom spent the night in there again. It was unusual for them to be up this early. They’re pretty good actors, luckily.
Danny was in his element. Breakfasts were his specialty, and this one was a favorite. He set about assembling the ingredients. Hmm. This bread is a little too fresh. Dad says that to be really good, the bread should be old and tough. “Help me spread it out on the table, Julian. This needs to dry out a little.” Maybe that will help. Soggy French toast is a no-no.
~~~~
Is there anything Danny doesn’t know how to fix? It was easy, actually. Julian dabbed a square of French toast in the puddle of syrup. I’ll surprise Mom and fix this one day after I get home. Mmm, this is good. Maybe a little messy, but… Julian saw Mark tense suddenly. Oh no—
Mark stood up rapidly and held up his right forefinger. He had a big one. “Be right back.” He ran down to the farting post and elevated his left foot a few inches. It was a very big one: Braa-aa-A-A-P!
Laughter and applause from the Flaming Arrow table.
Mark bowed gratefully.
Julian blushed even though he was delighted… the Zebra patrol was standing at their table applauding too! The whole meadow must have heard that one.
“Almost a T.A.,” Mark remarked to himself quietly as he sat down. He squirmed unconsciously on his canvas stool, seeking to soothe the minor stinging sensation—the aftereffect of his achievement did not come as a surprise. He speared a link sausage and casually delivered it up to his mouth. He saw four pair of eyes fixed on him. “What?!”
There was a brief silence. Nick leaned forward with their question: “What’s a T.A.?”
Mark blushed slightly; he hadn’t intended to say that audibly. He had to make a fast decision… well, there’s no way I can keep this to myself, now. Telling a group isn’t a very bright thing to do, but… he could see they were waiting. He shrugged and put down his fork. He took a sip of coffee.
“When I was a scout we had a little jingle that described the varieties of farts that could be cut. I forget if it was Terry that made it up, or if he just heard it somewhere. Terry was our resident expert on farts. T.A. was short for “tear-ass,” the ones that almost hurt because they have such force.”
The Flaming Arrows roared with laughter. Mark’s fart was a masterpiece and was fun enough—but they were not expecting such candor about this subject from the scoutmaster. The shared humanity was wonderful. The pause created an opportunity to have another bite or two, between chuckles.
Tom had to ask the next question. “So, what were the other kinds?”
The others all turned to look at Mark. Would he actually tell this?
Mark looked at the group. Hmm. He wanted to share this, but it was risky… he needed to be mindful of his position. He wished it were an audience of only one—Julian, probably. But that option was not available now.
“Okay—but you have to swear that you won’t tell where you heard this.” He was certain that it would spread through the troop before the day was out. That was fine with him; he just didn’t want the credit. He looked at them with a straight face. He saw smiles and eager nods.
“No go. You have to swear.” He raised his right arm into the Scout Sign.
They all raised their hands and swore.
Their eager sparkling eyes were irresistible… he tried to remember the jingle. Man, it has to be ten years since I’ve heard it. He closed his eyes and tried to mimic Terry’s jolly performance. He raised his arms above the table and swung them back and forth in a mock dance cadence:
There’s the fizz, there’s the fuzz;
There’s the fizzy-fuzz.
There’s the rip, the snort, the tear-ass,
And there’s some that go poo…
On the last line Mark tried to imitate Terry’s soft slow suggestion of a silent fart. The patrol nearly fell off the benches with laughter.
Mark was pleased with himself, actually… I may have forgotten part of the jingle, now that I think about it… it might have been a line or two longer.
“Aaagh!” Shouts and laughter from the Badger camp. Julian could see Bruce staggering away from their table, fanning his butt. They were all spreading out. He must have let a really bad one.
By the time breakfast was over, everyone in the Arrow had made a successful visit to the farting post. Julian’s was very modest… well, he was new at this, after all. I should have been keeping track. Tom was better than everyone… he’d had more beans, probably. Occasional cheers and cries could be heard from other camps. Julian looked at Mark. Smiling… he enjoys all this. He sure laughed at Bruce! Julian saw another side of him now. He’s fun as well as cool.
~~~~
After KP Julian and Danny had the job of inspecting the camps. Today they were going along as usual: very boring, because everyone was perfect. Whoa—Julian did a double take: Doug was sitting at the table in the Panther camp. So, he’s a Panther! He looked around to see if Paul was anywhere… no; he’s probably in another patrol, come to think about it. Paul and Doug have that stopwatch; Julian and Sid had seen them sucking off in the lake, timing themselves. Funny—but hot, all the same. He followed Danny with the inspection checklist poised. This patrol is always flawless, but they have to be checked anyway. Mark wouldn’t hear of anything else. Julian glanced down at Doug’s lap as they passed by the table: did that big bended down one bulge a little? Nope. Scout shorts are pretty good at hiding things if you’re sitting down... Oh well.
He nudged Danny when they left the camp. “Do you know him?”
Danny looked over his shoulder. “You mean Doug? Sure. Not very well, but sure. Why?”
Julian didn’t know if he should tell Danny about the stopwatch contest he and Sid had seen at the lake. He was sort of hoping he could try out Doug’s method on Danny sometime... after inspection one day, maybe. He was curious whether Danny’s cock would taste like Sid’s had. Waking Danny up yesterday morning kept popping into his mind—it was fun watching him get hard. I wasn’t in the mood then… But the more he followed along behind Danny today on the inspection route, the more he noticed those choice buns. It’s been a few days since I applied that sun cream… he pictured kneading them as he sucked away doing Doug’s technique. I’m not sure if Danny wants to do anything like that though.
“I saw him using a stopwatch the other day. I just wondered if I should ask to borrow it one day.” He had chickened out of telling Danny for some reason. He wasn’t quite ready to be that bold. Maybe if Danny makes a suggestion or something I will. I’ll stay alert for a chance.
“Dunno why not,” Danny stopped. “Want to go back and ask?”
“Maybe not.” Julian wasn’t sure. “Maybe later.”
“So what do you need a stopwatch for, anyway?”
“I’m trying to learn how to stay under longer. You know, when I swim. I never can tell for sure if I’m doing better or not.”
“Oh.” Danny thought for a minute. “Maybe they check them out at the HQ or something. You could find out at lunch.”
“Oh yeah; thanks Danny.” That might be a better idea, in fact. He looked at Danny: something told him Danny wasn’t in the mood to play around this morning. He’s tending to business today. That’s okay too.
***
Chapter 2 The Appointment
Nick sat on the boardwalk edge watching the water polo team being briefed; the training pipe running along the edge of the boardwalk made an ideal footrest. Mark is giving them some kind of instruction. Nick had not meant to, but he had found a superb place to sit, just in front of the tower. He had undressed as usual and was about to swim out to the platform to wait for Geoff—but when he saw the teams assemble along the boat dock, he stopped to watch. If only they allowed cameras at this part of the camp—easy to understand why they don’t. Tom is standing in the front, one leg straight as usual, the other to the side with the knee bent. What a masterpiece. To think that I get to sleep with that at night!
Nick was at the lake to keep his appointment with Geoff. He made it yesterday out on the platform after their very interesting conversation. Geoff had found a way to make him tell all about his “first time” with Tom; in return, Geoff promised to tell his story today. He was curious whether Geoff would follow through. At first, Nick felt intimidated—he’s so clever and amusing and outgoing. But I held my own yesterday. Nick felt more self confident now… still, I need to pay attention… no telling what Geoff is likely to say or do next.
He looked around to see if Geoff was approaching… no sign yet. Nick was early because he’d come in with Tom and Mark. Their water polo team is in the first match this morning. His attention shifted to Mark. He was standing on the left, gesturing a wide sweep with his right arm, illustrating a special technique… must have something to do with how to hit the ball just right. Hmm. There they are again. I noticed Mark’s buns yesterday, too. Strange… why do they look so sexy now? I’ve seen them before at camp—this is my third year. I just never really looked at them before, evidently. Of course, now they’re uncovered… that always helps. Nick let his eye rove over the rest of Mark’s body. Huh. A sense of being out of bounds crowded his mind suddenly: he just now realized this was a treat. Boy, he looks good! It isn’t just his buns… his manner is different… more animated, or something. Nick couldn’t put his finger on it. Mark didn’t seem to be so remote, so above, so on the pedestal or something. Hmm…
“You must be looking at what I am,” Geoff parked next to Nick and gave a friendly nudge with his left thigh. Oh-h, yes, he is! Look at the pink cheeks appear!
“Good morning.”
“Tell me no lies: who is that Apollo, anyway?”
Nick turned to look him solid in the face. “That is forbidden territory: that is our scoutmaster.” He raised his eyebrows. He had just won the “top this if you can” contest before it even began.
“Mercy!” Geoff studied Mark’s movements. “Thighs of doom! How old is he?”
“Twenty six? seven? Around that, I think. He set some kind of record when he started as scoutmaster. He was only twenty one or so.”
Geoff looked at Mark’s buns. “I’m afraid to think what wonder dwells on the other side of those.” Hmm… hardly noticed him yesterday at the tryouts… he was sitting with the other coaches. I was looking at Tom anyway, of course.
“I’d say about two thirds of Tom’s. I haven’t looked closely.”
“I intend to arrive at a more accurate measurement.” Geoff licked his lips. “Doesn’t he ever turn around!?”
Nick was amused… Geoff isn’t serious. He’s probably trying to delay delivering on his promise. I’ll be patient; there’s plenty of time. Besides, I like the view, myself. They watched in silence. Nick wondered, in fact, if Mark would turn around. His curiosity about this had been awakened. Oho! Mark just drew Tom into a one-on-one private consultation, and there they stood, side by side, facing the boardwalk head on. Mark had his arm over Tom’s shoulder. Nick heard Geoff gasp.
“I’ve gone to heaven!”
They watched the entire conference. It was wonderful. It wasn’t nearly long enough. Just as they were through talking, Tom noticed them sitting there; he smiled and gave a small wave. They small waved back. They watched the entire team line up along the edge. The other team stood farther down the dock, just next to the goal cage. They were preparing to dive in, all at the same time.
“Mmmmm!” Geoff whined.
“Shhh!” Nick hissed, nudging sharply with his elbow.
Waterfront
On a whistle command, the teams dove in and raced to their positions in the water polo playing zone. Mark swam along the boardwalk side and the other coach swam on the lake side. A rowboat with a referee/lifeguard was poised on each side halfway between the goal cage and the center of the playing zone. The ref on the far side tossed the ball into the water, and the game was on.
Nick and Geoff savored the moment.
Geoff fanned his legs happily. “We must do this every day, you know.”
“What’s that?” Nick enjoyed playing along.
“See the boys off, of course. It’s our patriotic duty.”
“Right. I wonder who won?”
“We did!” Geoff nudged Nick in the ribs.
“Right!” Nick chuckled. “That show was unexpected... fourteen of Scoutdom’s finest. And we were here!”
They looked at each other and laughed. At some point, they had both crossed their arms over their laps. It was the only way to shield what they could not stop from happening. At this point, they looked down at each other’s erections to confirm what they knew their situation to be. They looked left and right to see if it was clear. It wasn’t.
“Ideas?”
“Nope.” Nick blushed. I’ve never had this happen on the boardwalk. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.
“What did you do for Leonard, by the way?”
“Do? What do you mean?”
“When I signed in as your Buddy just now he gave me the impression that you were his number one favorite.” Geoff nudged Nick in the ribs. “He approved highly of my Buddy choice.”
“Huh. You’ve got me.” Nick pondered. “I was friendly, as always. I mentioned that you would be along, of course. That’s it.” Well, it doesn’t hurt to be in good with Leonard. He’s one of the power people around here.
They sat a while longer… maybe the short wait had taken care of their problem? They looked again.
“You could start telling the story here.”
“No, I couldn’t!” Geoff laughed. “That would make it worse.”
They looked back and forth again. It was thinning out some, but there were still too many around.
“I know,” Nick had an idea. “We’ll just plop in… you know, sort of suddenly, in a cannonball. Once in, we can swim out to the cold water. How’s that for a plan?”
“I have nothing better.”
They plunked into the water the second they could see that no one was facing their way. They swam out around the end of the water polo game toward the platform. Geoff stopped suddenly and held up his hand.
“Occupied.”
“That figures.” Nick treaded water, looking around. He looked at the small group on the platform… no way to tell if they would be out there a long time or not. They needed a secure spot, probably, which the platform was not. The west end of the F fork? Bad idea… that would probably attract attention. “You okay for surface travel yet?” They could use Geoff’s tent, if nothing else.
Geoff checked himself: “Halfway, yeah. I’ll be okay by the time we swim back.”
“Me too. Let’s get dressed and figure a plan B.”
They headed for the boardwalk doing a slow crawl. They dressed, pulled the badges from the Buddy Board, and walked up to Leonard.
What is it with these two? Leonard knew Nick and Tom were an item. He didn’t know where Geoff fit in. This is the second day now they’ve been Buddies. Is Geoff up to no good? Hmm.
“Hi Leonard,” Geoff came up to the table. He had Leonard in his sights. He wasn’t sure when or how yet; he knew it was achievable. He could see it in Leonard’s eyes. His predatory talents rarely failed to identify likely prospects.
“Leaving us so soon today?” Leonard drew a line on his clipboard. Geoff’s eyes are dangerous: I must not look at them directly.
“We’re sorry, really,” Geoff paused, expecting Leonard to look him in the eye. “We have to tend to something. We’ll be back again,” he added brightly. When Leonard looked up Geoff gave a knowing wink.
Leonard blanched.
Geoff reached out and touched his arm briefly. “Really. We’re all good friends.” He tried to be reassuring, comforting. He didn’t want to spook Leonard. The wink was crude and clumsy… a mistake I won’t make again. I understand Leonard’s problem; his secret is safe.
Leonard looked at Nick. He saw a friendly smile there. He felt reassured, but he didn’t know why. He watched them walk out the gate and go up the trail. Hmm… they don’t seem to be about to horse around. They aren’t in a hurry at all. Strange… he felt confused at best. He shook his head and turned back toward the lake.
Nick and Geoff walked a few yards up the slope toward HQ; they stopped to plan.
“Your camp is closest; do you have a safe place?” Geoff knew he did; he’d been there with Danny.
“Well, sort of. It should be safe…” I have to head this off. “But there’s always a chance we’ll be seen by somebody. The trail there is so wide open. What about yours?” Nick did not want to use his new “bedroom,” actually. Hawk Camp was a longer walk, but the space is nearly identical. He only knew of one hideaway in the forest—Tom’s special clearing. It isn’t much closer.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Geoff gestured an invitation.
“You promise to behave?”
“Never.”
“Good. Then I’ll come along.” Nick elbowed Geoff as he stepped forward. “But you have to tell all first.”
“Promise.” Geoff did a skip and took the lead.
Nick hurried to catch up. Why did I say that? Is my self-confidence being a bit too assertive? Being this daring was new… felt good.
***
Chapter 3 Circle on the Platform
Justin folded his arms across his chest. The frown on his face was subtle—only a close, careful look would have been able to discern that he was, in fact, entirely displeased. It was generally his custom to mask his feelings; he didn’t expect that anyone would notice that he was out of sorts. He always sought to avoid drawing attention to himself. He had learned from experience that it was safest that way. His sister, in particular, had taught him that he was vulnerable to her nags and teasing when he was visibly upset. She was skilled at doubling his misery, given the chance.
The cause today was the sudden appreciation of his standing at the ropeyard: zero. The numbers here were large again this morning. Too large. All the stations were taken, and no one seemed inclined to include him in one of the projects. That wasn’t unusual, of course. Justin had never been inclined to assert himself. But it was clear that today the only thing he’d be able to do is stand around and watch. Again. He came to a most unusual decision: I have stood here watching long enough. This is a waste of my time. He turned around and left the ropeyard.
I’m going to swim today instead of play with those ropes. He had grown bored with that, anyway. All they were doing now was lashings. I don’t want to build a tower. He was just fine on the ground. He didn’t want to build a bridge, either. He didn’t have to, anyway—he wasn’t working on the Pioneering badge: he doubted if he would now, in fact. Besides: Julian’s been pestering me about spending some time at the lake. He had not been to the lake since the first day. Maybe it isn’t so crowded now. He glanced over his shoulder as the ropeyard went out of sight. No one noticed that he had left, evidently. Good. It’s a quick walk to the lake from here…
As he passed the bank of latrine booths, he could see a few scouts sitting on the slope… if I’m lucky, I can catch Julian before he goes through the gate; he said he usually goes swimming in the morning free time. Justin didn’t want to go in there all by himself, especially. But swimming is something he was very good at—he didn’t need any assistance or pats on the head. He chuckled briefly… Bob’s wisecrack about him being part fish came to mind. Bob’s the head lifeguard at the pool. Bob always relied on him to pitch in if one of the beginners needed help.
When he came close to the entrance he didn’t see Julian, but Sid was sitting on the grassy slope. Sid’s one of Julian’s friends… he’ll know what to advise. They’re in the same patrol—or used to be.
“Hi.”
“Well, fancy meeting you here!” Sid had an automatic affection for anyone else that wore glasses. It’s Julian’s protégé, the brainy kid.
Justin sat down and smiled. Lucky I spotted Sid. He’d forgotten that Sid was so friendly. He didn’t like to impose.
“I see you’re all equipped.” Sid gave the elastic strap holding his glasses a small tug.
“Yeah. I’d be a goner without that.” He looked out at the lake. “Oh! That must be the water polo.” The players were swimming fast toward the east goal cage.
“Yeah. You can have it.” Sid was grumpy because the game had supplanted the water sport he wanted to spectate. He couldn’t tell from this distance if Doug and Paul were in a new spot. He had brought along the viewing equipment just in case. On Wednesday he’d given Julian the best chance to see their underwater “contest” and missed out seeing it himself. Maybe today I’ll get a good look-see of my own, somehow. He glanced at Justin. Julian likes him, so he must be okay, even if he is a Zebra. “So, do you want to go swimming, or just sit here and watch?”
Justin blushed. “I didn’t get a Buddy. I forgot about that.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’ll go in with you. I was waiting around for Julian, but he hasn’t shown up.” Sid stood up. “I’m tired of waiting. Let’s get wet.” He led Justin to the Buddy Board.
Justin was quite relieved. I’ll stick with Sid. He knows all the right things to do. They went toward the gate, and he watched Sid grab his badge from the Buddy Board. Hum. Where’s mine? He wasn’t sure where he had hung it on the board.
“What’s the problem?”
“I can’t find my badge.” Justin bent down to read the names.
“Well, where did you hang it? Nobody’s supposed to touch it except you, you know.” He stepped back to help look.
Hum. Justin had forgotten exactly where. Everything was so confusing that day, with hundreds of scouts all over the place. “I was only here on the first day.” He felt bad for holding Sid up. He scanned the bottom row. Nope. Next to the bottom… nope, not there either. Next row… darn! I’ll find it if it takes all… Aha! “I found it!” He grabbed it off the hook. Yep, it’s my name. He showed it to Sid with a big grin.
“Good work, Sherlock. Now we have to check in.”
Justin smiled gratefully and followed Sid to the gate. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Buddy Board. “Is that my reserved space?” I don’t remember hanging it there. Somebody must have moved it.
“Nah. When we check out, put it on any hook you want. Just try to remember where next time.” Sid thought about Justin… about as tender as any tenderfoot he had seen; it’s hard to believe he’s a First Class already.
Well… Jack Spratt has found a new mate, has he? Leonard remembered that Sid had come in with Julian yesterday. Julian’s troop is always well represented at the lake, but this one is new. He looked at Justin’s badge. “Hello. I don’t know you.”
Justin blushed. “I’m Justin. This is my first time since I qualified.”
Leonard knew this; he had the badge and he had a photographic memory; he recognized everyone who came through the gate. “Well, I’m glad you could come today, Justin.” What a charming tender little thing you are… “Sid here can show you the ropes. He knows what to do. Have a good swim.” He handed Justin back his badge. Hmm. The blue is colored in… I didn’t expect that.
Sid led Justin over to the swimming Buddy Board. “Hang your badge here with mine. When you hear the whistle, you find me, wherever I am. We raise our hands together until the whistle blows again… then we can swim some more. What are you going to do, by the way?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. I don’t have anything special in mind.” He thought a minute. Nope… whatever Sid’s going to do is fine.
Oo dear… Sid didn’t plan on having a tagalong—especially a S.Y.I.T. like Justin. What if I find some hot viewing, what then? “I’m going to play with my snorkel some, then I’ll practice some distances, probably. I’m keeping an eye out for Julian, too.” Please don’t ask about the snorkel, please.
Justin felt the distance at once. He knew how to tell when he was extra, which was most of the time. Well, now that I’m here, I might as well practice my speed… might as well get the first section of the outer ring colored in… I don’t want to be a pest. “I’ll just swim some lengths, I guess. Is it okay to swim from the boardwalk to the platform and back?”
Sid’s eyes went blank. “Sure.” What a stupid question: why wouldn’t it be? He looked at Justin… hmm. ‘Cut him some slack, Sid, c’mon. He’s not stupid, just new.’ He found a good slot in the cubbyhole unit for his clothes. “Pick any open slot.” He pointed to a good one, sensing that Justin might take a while to choose; he wanted to get wet without further delay. “Okay... just don’t swim across the lake or anything like that without touching base with me first.” Sid figured Justin would stay near the dock; he’ll be easy to spot with those glasses on. He checked his own elastic band and stepped over to the edge of the boardwalk.
His attention was drawn by a fuss over at the water polo game. A sizeable bunch on the boat dock was yelling at the ones in the water. Sid wasn’t a sports fan at home, and he wasn’t likely to become one here. The polo boys would have to do without his advice. Other than them, it isn’t too crowded out in the lake today… plenty of room to splash around. Where should I get in? A path is open about six or eight feet out from the dock; I can swim out to the end of the F and back, for openers. Mother keeps pestering me about improving in the water, so I better get some kind of practice in. I might even swim out to that platform again. It wasn’t that hard… I did it on the first day—’course, I rested up for a few hours afterward. Sid chuckled to himself: Justin seems to think it’s no big deal—well, he’s enthusiastic, at least.
Sid hopped off the edge of the boardwalk. He dipped the mask into the water and put on the snorkel. He looked back to the gate to see if Julian had shown up yet… nope. I’ll keep on the lookout for him anyway. I might even run into the stopwatch boys’ new location, if there is one. If they aren’t here, maybe I’ll come across somebody I know. He submerged and moved out along the F dock… it’s plenty open today. The sights down here remind me a little of the other day… too bad I let Julian hog this thing. But he made up for it in the cabin afterwards! I can’t get that out of my mind—I want to do that again. I don’t dare ask, though. I have to figure out a way to get Julian to ask instead… he probably won’t. Julian has other things to occupy him. He moves in pretty high circles these days; he’s usually with the Flaming Arrow bigwigs. But Julian wants to improve his swimming—so I’ll just hang around, mess with my snorkel some. Julian has to show up sooner or later, doesn’t he? Sid rose up to the surface; he needed to clear the pipe again.
~~
Julian was doing something different today: testing his time, only without swimming. He ducked down with his nose pinched shut, and counted for as long as he could. I made it to 38 seconds yesterday… maybe I can go longer by staying put. He stayed fairly close to the corner by the boat dock where it wasn’t so busy. His first try wasn’t so hot—only 28. His goal was a full minute. Take deeper breaths… stop trying to look at buns… see if that helps. It’s pointless to look without Sid’s goggles, anyway.
He did this several times, but it was boring. Luckily, he was taking a breath of air when the Buddy whistle blew, so he heard it. He jumped up to check on Bruce… yep; there he is, way over there. He waved and pointed until the lifeguard nodded. While he waited, he thought about his lack of progress. Practicing like this is probably stupid. For one thing, I need a stopwatch to tell if I’m really improving or not… but I don’t know who to ask at HQ. I keep losing count because my mind wanders all the time. I need a partner or something if I’m going to make any real progress. If only I had something, maybe just a regular watch that could go under water. He looked around. He didn’t see anybody he knew right off. It’s hard to recognize anyone out here. I was sort of hoping I could catch Nick again… but I hate to be a bother. Tom’s over in the water polo game. Better to stay clear of that… Julian didn’t know if he could look at Mark out here and not get into trouble.
He ducked back into the water as soon as the whistle sounded. He got up to 25… or was it 23? Hmm. Lost count already! This is silly. I’d be smarter to hang it up and try some distance practice for a while. There’s only a couple of guys on the platform. I can swim out there and back a few times. It’ll be good to do some kind of arm workout before going to archery anyway. I can work on my time this afternoon.
He swam well and strong… whoa! A speed racer just swam past going like mad! I’ve never seen anyone go that fast! What rating is he going for? He’d only gone a few yards when the same guy raced by again, returning to the Boardwalk. Wow. He saw him somewhat better—he’s a small guy, too… look at him go!
Okay… Julian reached the platform in good shape, even if it was at turtle speed. He paused at the ladder and looked back. Man alive! That kid’s almost at the Boardwalk already! He went up the ladder, content with himself, anyway. Hey! Jeremy and Kurt! I haven’t seen them for a long time... he grinned wide.
“It’s Julian!” Jeremy looked at Kurt. “He useta be in my patrol. Hi, Julian.”
“Hi! How’s Wolf’s Lair been doin’?” He knew, but wanted to be sociable. He sat down next to Jeremy. He didn’t know Kurt at all. He always seemed sort of standoffish for some reason. Maybe he’s just shy.
“No complaints.” Actually, he missed Julian. Now he got all of Sid’s wisecracks. “Stu is thinking of picking Barney to take your spot. Know him?”
Julian thought for a minute… not sure. “No, I don’t think so.”
“He’s the kid who moved in from Nashville just after Christmas. You know, red hair and freckles everywhere—a good runner.”
“Oh, yeah. I never had a class with him. I know who you mean; sounds good.” Julian was startled slightly… the idea that he was being replaced in the Wolf patrol… he hadn’t thought about that before. It was a little sad. Being promoted to the Flaming Arrow patrol had its downside.