The Puget Posse

Welcome back to the Posse. It is election time as well as baseball time as the Posse finds itself busily involved in intrigue.

 

 

 CHAPTER 55    

 POLITICS

 

 

The Posse’s new plan went into effect at lunch time. Suddenly, Jeremiah had a shadow named Ellis. When Jeremiah started to tell how the twins set him up, Ellis would show the envelope, saying Jeremiah had put a picture in it. Ellis said he had sealed it. He told them that Jeremiah had been blackmailing him.

 

“That’s my handwriting on the envelope and Gregory can tell you it was there when Jeremiah opened it up. It was to keep him from making copies.”

 

“What was the picture of?” one boy asked.

 

“It was of me in the shower. He snuck it on his phone,” Ellis said. The Posse had agreed to tone down the strategy and not bring up the boner thing. Just the existence of a naked picture of him might be enough to convince everyone that Jeremiah had something to hold over Ellis.

 

“Ellis, you know that’s a lie and that I can kick your ass any time I want,” Jeremiah said the first time Ellis spoke up. He quickly kept quiet when he saw Misha and Will standing a few feet from him. It was decided to give Jeremiah a different threat than having the twins hanging around. After all, the twins were the ones being accused of nefarious deeds, and it was better that they weren’t seen.

 

“Where did the bullfrog pics come from?” another boy asked.

 

“Ellis probably switched pictures.”

 

“How did I do that?” Ellis asked. “How did I get into your locker?”

 

“You probably did it somehow. How come you suddenly went against me when I had the picture if you thought it was so bad?”

 

It was right then that Ellis realized he only had to go through this procedure once. It was right then that everybody, including Jeremiah, realized that Jeremiah had inserted his foot all the way into his mouth. Operation Bullfrog was back with a vengeance. This time Jeremiah had buried himself so deep that there was no way he could dig out of it, even if he could prove the twins had somehow switched the memory cards.

 

Jeremiah quickly ran off before anybody could see his tears of defeat. He passed a trash can that was partially blocking his way and kicked it hard, banging it against the wall and knocking its contents on the floor. He wanted everybody to know he was the boss and that nothing would stand in his way, even as he left the field in humiliation. He quickly retreated from the area before a staff member could stop him.

 

Alden, who had been hovering along the edge of the group, smiled to himself. He had been right to abandon Jeremiah, who he now realized was a stupid loser who could only bully people, but in the end couldn’t defeat them. He had gained great deal of respect for the twins and the Posse. They had played Jeremiah perfectly and humbled him totally without ever laying a finger on him.

 

For weeks only he, Jeremiah, and Ellis had known the full story behind the picture. But now, Ellis, and most likely the twins, also knew the story. The one thing he didn’t know was who switched the picture and made the animation of Jeremiah’s face on the bullfrog. It was obviously the work of more than one person, and only the Posse had the smarts and the guile to pull it off.

 

Still, even though Jeremiah had royally fucked things up, Alden understood that in order for him to retain the kind of power he had he would need to find a way to bring the Posse down. In order to do that, he would need to be on the sixth grade council, which meant winning the election for treasurer. Alden wanted to be at the top of the school power structure by eighth grade. And in order to do that, he would need to do what Jeremiah couldn’t; he would need to find a way to humiliate the twins and their Posse permanently.

 

 

 

The election campaigns started going full swing for all of the grades but the eighth. By Friday, campaign signs had been posted and the candidates were busily glad-handing the students in their respective grades.

 

Jeremiah knew his campaign was doomed and so did what was left of his followers. He and Tony put up some campaign signs in the fifth grade hall, east wall of the cafeteria, and in the fifth grade classrooms, just like the rest of the candidates. But the signs showed their lack of effort and artistic skill. Jeremiah had to take one of them down after somebody drew a frog at the bottom of the sign. Jeremiah was upset that Tony had procured the help of his sister for his sergeant-at-arms campaign. Tony told him that his campaign was more important than Jeremiah’s. It had gotten to the point where even one of Jeremiah’s most loyal friends was hedging his bets.

 

The candidates would be giving their speeches on Monday and Tuesday. Monday would be separate assemblies in the cafeteria for each grade. Tuesday’s assembly would be for grades five through seven in the auditorium when the candidates for the full student council would be speaking. Candidates would be visiting the home rooms on Wednesday and Thursday and the election would be on Friday.

 

Mark wasn’t worried about Jeremiah as a candidate. He had read about the Phoenix rising from its own ashes when they studied mythology in class. He figured that unless Jeremiah was a Phoenix, he was burned to a crisp as a candidate.

 

On Thursday morning, Mark, Matthew, and Patrick happened to run into Mr. Vargas in the hall. Mark saw this as an opportunity.

 

“Hello, Mr. Vargas,” Mark said, knowing the teacher eschewed the “hey” greeting.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Kirkwood,” Mr. Vargas replied. “How is the campaigning going?”

 

“Pretty good…I mean, pretty well. I think I’ll beat Jeremiah, but Vic is going to be tough.”

 

“I’ve noticed he’s been very busy with his campaign.”

 

“Mr. Jackson said you might like this,” Mark said.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Knock knock.”

 

“I do not enjoy the fifth grade humor associated with knock knock jokes, and neither does Mr. Jackson.”

 

“We know,” Matthew added, “but Mr. J. told us that if we could get you to listen to one of our knock knock jokes, he’d let us tell him one on the last day of school, and we said that was cool and we’d do it.”

 

“Oh, he did, did he? He sent you three to tell me a despised knock knock joke, knowing I’d say no and he wouldn’t have to deal with receiving one himself.” The teacher mulled that idea over for a few moments, then gave the boys a sly smile. “You know, I think it’s time that Mr. Jackson learns that if he’s going to teach fifth grade he must deal with ten-year-old humor.”

 

“Just like you have to deal with teenage humor, right?” Patrick asked.

 

“Yes, but as little as possible.”

 

“Knock knock,” Mark said again. He started a different joke than the one he was going to tell Mr. Jackson. He didn’t want Mr. Vargas to give the joke away—actually jokes, but that was going to also be a secret.

 

Mr. Vargas exhaled an audible sigh and said, “Who’s there?”

 

“Banana.”

 

“Banana who?”

 

“Knock, knock.”

 

“Who’s there?” Mr. Vargas said with a slight hint of exasperation.

 

“Banana.”

 

“Banana who?”

 

“Knock, knock.”

 

“Mr. Kirkwood, would you kindly finish the joke.”

 

“Just say ‘who’s there’, Mr. Vargas”

 

Mr. Vargas let out a feigned sigh of frustration. “Okay, who’s there?”

 

“Banana,” Mark said with a grin as he looked directly at the teacher.

 

Mr. Vargas gave a sigh of exasperation. “Banana who?”

 

“Knock, knock.”

 

Knowing he had now fallen deep into the black hole of preteen humor, Mr. Vargas asked, without a hint of humor,” Who’s there?”

 

“Orange.”

 

“It’s about time we got off of that loop. Okay, I bite, orange who?”

 

“Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” Mark and Matthew both broke into uncontrolled giggles.

 

“Mr. Jackson owes me more than even he could imagine.”

 

“I have a joke, Mr. Vargas,” Patrick said with a big smile on his face.

 

“I’ve fulfilled my obligation to you boys.”

 

“Yes, but I need to be the twins’ backup.”

 

The teacher all but rolled his eyes in adolescent fashion. “Patrick, you’ve always struck me as being above the kinds of shenanigans these two seem to enjoy,” Mr. Vargas said, pointing to the giggling twins.

 

“But see, if I tell you the joke you will remember me,” Patrick said sweetly.

 

“Patrick, I would remember you even without the joke.”

 

“Will you remember me tomorrow?”

 

“Of course I would.”

 

“Will you remember me next week?”

 

“Patrick, there is no way I would forget you.”

 

Patrick went on as if Mr. Vargas hadn’t said anything. “Will you remember me next month?”

 

“Yes, Patrick. I will. Look, the bell is about to ring.”

 

“Will you remember me next year?”

 

“After this little shtick, how could I forget?”

 

“Well, just to make sure, I’ll give you something to remember…knock, knock.”

 

“Why do I have the feeling I’ve just stepped into something dirty and smelly?” That comment got the twins to roaring with laughter as Mr. Vargas accepted his fate with good humor. “Who’s there?”

 

Patrick gave Mr. Vargas a sad look. “See, you forgot me already.”

 

That got all three boys to laughing so hard they were shaking as they headed off to get to Mr. Jackson’s class before the morning bell, leaving Mr. Vargas shaking his head. He knew it was moments like this that were one of the many things that made teaching enjoyable, but he wasn’t going to confess that to the three boys who were among his favorite fifth graders.

 

After school, Mr. Vargas and Mr. Jackson walked down the front stairs. The students were long gone and, since it was Friday, there were no intramurals.

 

Mr. Vargas looked back at the building as the two teachers trudged to the faculty parking area. “You know, Parker, the old, haunted castle seems to be playing its role to perfection this spring,” he told Mr. Jackson. 

 

“In what way, Chuck?” Mr. Jackson replied.

 

“The fifth graders have produced more intrigue than the king’s court at a medieval castle.”

 

“I assume you’re referring specifically to the infamous Posse.”

 

“Them along with Jeremiah and company. It would appear their conniving has all but killed Jeremiah’s aspirations for a second presidential term.”

 

Mr. Jackson chuckled. “Something about a frog, was it?”

 

“I’ve only heard bits and pieces about the affair, most of them from Paul, their student guide, but it was something about a frog, a song, and Jeremiah that apparently was quite humiliating for the boy. And, if they used the song I am thinking about, I can see exactly how the little connivers pulled it off. ”

 

That caused the light bulb in Parker Jackson’s brain to light up. “Of  course. Jeremiah, bullfrog from ‘Joy to the World’ by…”

 

“…Three Dog Night,” Chuck Vargas finished. “

 

“It would appear our friend Jeremiah isn’t as tough as he makes himself out to be.”

 

“What do you think?” Mr. Vargas asked. “Is your Posse the junior Machiavellis we made them out to be?”

 

“There is nothing sinister about them,” Mr. Jackson replied. “But it is my opinion that if they feel they’ve been wronged, they will take action against their tormentor, in this case against Jeremiah. The twins, as much as any of them, are not to be trifled with. And, they all appear to be quite politically astute for their ages.”

 

“Ah well, the trials and tribulations of teaching at a gifted school,” Charles Vargas added with a mock sigh. “I have a feeling the Puget Posse will bear a lot of watching over the next three years.” Mr. Jackson started to step into his car when Mr. Vargas gave him a sinister grin. “Speaking of the Posse, be prepared on the last day of school; you will be obligated to listen to your favorite kind of joke from Mark and Patrick.”

 

“Oh lord, you didn’t actually listen to Mark’s joke did you?”

 

“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

 

“Money?”

 

“Better yet—the opportunity to watch you squirm after setting me up,” Charles Vargas laughed.

 

“Wait? Did you say Mark and Patrick?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Damn. That little guy has been hanging around those twins way too long,” Parker Jackson chuckled.

 

“I just hope I’m in a position to see you suffer. Knock knock,” Charles Vargas said with a roar of laughter   as he walked to his car.

 

<Saturday, May 18>

 

Mark and Matthew woke up early. They were overflowing with excitement. Their baseball game was against the first place Orioles and Jeremiah, Alden, and Coach Hunt. Matthew would be pitching. It would be his first time pitching against the Orioles since he and Mark had been kicked off of the team the season before, and he wanted to show the entire team how good he was.

 

Their Thunderbirds team was 2-2 after winning their game on Wednesday, 9-8 on a walk-off double by Mark in the bottom of the sixth inning. The twins were realists and knew their team was probably a middle of the pack kind of team while the Orioles were looked upon as the best team in the league. They were 3-0 so far.

 

The game was slated to start at noon. The team was required to be at the ballpark at eleven. It was all Scott and Kristy could do to keep a lid on their raucous boys until they piled them into the SUV and left at 10:30 for the game.

 

While Mark was a talented pitcher, he much preferred catching, his usual position, or playing third base, which he also did on occasion, to pitching. Mark usually caught the games his brother pitched. The twins had had a satisfying warm-up of oral sex the night before in Matthew’s bed, where Mark remained to sleep after their almost mutual orgasm.

 

The Orioles were the home team on the scoreboard, so the T-Birds batted first. The Orioles starting pitcher for the game was Logan. The twins knew he was their ace. He was also a nice enough kid, who tried as much as he could to avoid the turmoil swirling around the team the summer before. He set the T-Birds down in order which brought the Orioles up to bat.

 

Jeremiah was third in the batting order and Alden was in the five hole. The first two hitters went out which brought Jeremiah up to bat. It was all Matthew could do not to smirk when Jeremiah swung and missed at two fastballs to quickly go into the hole oh-and-two.

 

Mark had dozens of snarky comments on the tip of his tongue, but said nothing as he fired the ball back to Matthew. Just like his sense of sportsmanship and fair play motivated him to discourage the Posse from singing the Jeremiah bullfrog song, “Joy to the World”, it also kept him from talking trash to his nemesis. Watching Jeremiah carry his bat back to the dugout after striking out would give him more than enough satisfaction.

 

He had seen the determination on Jeremiah’s face when he came up to bat, but after the first two pitches the look changed to one of frustration. Matthew had two pitches, his fastball and a changeup. Mark called for changeup outside hoping to throw Jeremiah’s timing off. Matthew nodded and went to his wind-up.

 

Jeremiah was expecting Mark to try to blow another fastball by him and was determined to hit it this time. Instead, he found himself swinging early and wildly at a pitch six inches off the plate. He glared at Matthew, turned and glared at Mark, whose grin was hidden by his catcher’s mask, and stomped back to the dugout.

 

In the top of the second, the Thunderbirds once again went down in order. After getting the Orioles’ cleanup hitter out, Matthew had to face Alden. One of the strengths of the boys of the Puget Posse was their ability to appraise other people. Alden was one of their few failings. They saw Jeremiah as their primary threat. While they considered Alden to be standoffish and a pain in the butt, they assessed him as being a number two type of individual, not a leader. In that respect, they severely underestimated their classmate, a mistake they would pay for in the future.

 

Matthew threw Alden a ball and then watched as Alden hit the next pitch into the gap between center and left, ending up on third with a triple. He scored on a groundout and the Orioles took a 1-0 lead. That score held up until the top of the fourth when Mark hit a double to left and ended up scoring off of two Oriole errors, tying the score.

 

Jeremiah then came up as the leadoff man in the bottom of the fourth. Matthew fell behind 2-0, then threw a called strike. Jeremiah fouled off the next pitch to even the count. This time Jeremiah was ready for an off-speed off of the plate as he watched Matthew send a fastball down the middle of the plate for called strike three.

 

The league played six inning games—the players would play seven inning games when they advanced to the next level. The T-Birds scored two runs in the top of the fifth. The Orioles answered with one in the bottom of the inning when Alden doubled and scored on a base hit. The Thunderbirds led 3-2 going into the sixth and picked up two insurance runs in the top of the inning when Matthew slugged an inside-the-park home run with a man on to give his team a 5-2 lead.

 

In the bottom of the inning Matthew gave up a run off of a walk and a hit. Coach Winsley, the T-Bird coach, thought about changing pitchers. His problem was that other than Matthew and Mark he was short on pitchers. He could have Mark pitch and bring in his backup catcher, but since there were two outs he decided to let Matthew face one more batter since he was still under his maximum pitch count.

 

With the score 5-3 and a runner on second, Jeremiah came to the plate, representing the tying run. Mark sauntered out to the mound to talk to his brother.

 

“Hat trick,” he said. A player earned a hat trick if he struck out three times in a game.

 

“Roger that,” Matthew answered. That was all the conversation the twins needed. As often happened between them, a lot of the communication was non-verbal.

 

For his part, Jeremiah was ready to be the hero of the game. He had watched enough baseball in his young life to know that many players looked bad their first few times at bat only to get a big clutch hit when it was needed. This wasn’t one of those times. He fouled off a high fastball, took ball one, then watched a changeup drift over the plate for a called strike.

 

Jeremiah was a good hitter, just like Matthew was a good pitcher. Both boys sensed that the next pitch would be power against power. Matthew toed the rubber and came to the set position. He took a deep breath, looking for some extra energy. His brother’s voice calling for the hat trick echoed in his head. He threw his pitch knowing unless he was really lucky, Jeremiah didn’t stand a chance. It was his best fastball of the game, on the outside corner at the top of the strike zone. Jeremiah grunted, and swung right though the pitch with a vicious hack—strike three, game over.

 

Jeremiah had been humiliated by the twins yet one more time. He walked back to his dugout as the Thunderbirds celebrated their victory behind him. He had played the worst game of his life, and it was all the fault of the Kirkwood twins.

 

But his day wasn’t finished. There would be a final word from the twins. Even though it was unintentional, it would shame him one last time.

 

Coach Hunt, Jeremiah’s father, didn’t say anything to his son as they walked across the parking lot to their car, which suited Jeremiah just fine. His father stopped to say something to his assistant who was putting equipment into the back of his pickup. Jeremiah went to the car on his own.

 

Mark and Matthew were putting their gear into the back of the family SUV. They both had stripped off their uniform shirts and undershirts. As they fished fresh t-shirts out of their bag Mark gave his brother a big smile.

 

“There is no joy in Birdville for Mighty Bullfrog has struck out,” Mark said, mimicking “Casey at the Bat.”

 

Neither twin noticed Jeremiah moving between cars two parking slots away from them, but he was close enough to hear what Mark said. He knew right then that he did not want to be in the same school as the Kirkwood twins for another school year, and that he would have to do something about it.

 

 

Friday was the last school day before the three day Memorial Day weekend. It was also election day at the Puget Academy. The officers for next year’s grades six through eight would be elected as well as the officers for the entire student body.

 

The twins had watched Jeremiah carefully, especially after what happened on the bus Monday morning. When Jeremiah walked up the aisle after boarding the bus, he glared at Patrick, Will, and the twins.

 

“You guys all think you’re so great. But you’re fucking bullies with the stupid bullfrog thing. You can stuff the frogs up your ass,” he snarled.

 

“Jeremiah, sit your butt down,” Mrs. Deaver yelled.

 

Jeremiah mouthed, “Fuck you, bitch.” Fortunately for him, it was a rare time Mrs. Deaver missed a piece of misbehavior.

 

“We never said nothing,” Will protested. The twins and Patrick once again took the high road, ignoring Jeremiah’s tirade.

 

“Like nothing was said on Saturday,” Jeremiah growled as he took his seat next to Tony.

 

“What happened Saturday?” Will asked.

 

“Nothing, except for me giving him the hat trick in our baseball game,” Matthew said. It never occurred to him and Mark that Jeremiah had overheard Mark’s bullfrog at the bat remark.

 

“Well, then maybe I should sing ‘Jeremiah was a bullfrog’ just to give him something real to be mad about,” Will said teasingly

 

“Then he would be right, we’d be bullies just like he said,” Mark answered.

 

Will said nothing. He’d do what Mark asked for now, but as soon as Jeremiah was out of earshot he would offer his objection. As much as he liked the twins, he thought that sometimes they were simply too full of themselves.

 

After the bus arrived at school, Will took the twins aside in the hall. “Why are you protecting Jeremiah?” he asked.

 

“Nobody’s protecting Jeremiah,” Mark said.

 

“Yeah, nobody,” Matthew agreed. “We don’t like Jeremiah—he’s an asshole.”

 

“So how come you don’t want anybody singing the bullfrog song when it was you two guys who got the whole thing started?”

 

“That’s simple,” Mark replied. “The pictures were to get revenge for what he did to Ellis and what he did to me, and for being an asshole.”

 

“Well, then I’m just doing more revenge if I keep singing him the song,” Will protested.

 

“Nope, if you keep doing it, then it’s not getting revenge, it’s being a bully.”

 

“Yeah,” Matthew agreed again. “And me and Mark aren’t bullies.”

 

“Okay, I think I get it. But I don’t like it,” Will told them.

 

“Me either,” Mark said. “I want to be a total bully to him. But, like Mattie says, we’re not bullies. He’s going down in the election, and that’s all we want.”

 

“Yep,” Matthew concurred. “He’s goes down in the election, we don’t need any songs or anything else. We got our revenge by making him burnt toast.”

 

The only potential problem regarding Jeremiah came up during his speech to the fifth grade. The twins wondered if somebody would interrupt Jeremiah by singing the song. The solution to the problem came from an interesting source. Just after Jeremiah was introduced a voice started to sing, “Jeremiah,” but stopped suddenly. The voice belonged to Randy, the arch-nerd, who wanted desperately to fit in, but always managed to find a way to screw things up.

 

Randy was stopped when two hands squeezed him simultaneously, one on each shoulder, hard. He turned around and saw that the hand on his right belonged to Ellis.

 

 “That’s not how we’re going to do it,” Ellis hissed. Randy turned the other way and saw that the other hand belonged to Neville, who nodded in agreement.

 

As a result, Jeremiah was able to give his speech uninterrupted. It was a much better speech than the Posse had anticipated. Like the dead bodies in horror movies, Jeremiah seemed to have a way of popping out of his coffin, as alive as he’d ever been.

 

By the time Jeremiah finished his speech, Mark wished he had led the entire fifth grade in the singing of “Joy to the World.” After Jeremiah took credit for the constitutional amendment giving the sixth graders three more student senators as well as fighting for student greeters for the fifth graders on the opening day of school, among other policies Mark and the Posse had backed, Mark was ready to run to the small stage in the cafeteria and hand Jeremiah a black eye or two.

 

The order of the speakers had been drawn by lot, and Jeremiah had drawn the first slot. Mark was next. Rather than look petty by claiming Jeremiah’s accomplishments for himself, he talked about how he would work to improve student government and the school. Vic had the third speech. He didn’t mince any words as he left the planned conclusion of his speech.

 

“If you want to say thank you for all of the good things that Jeremiah told you about, then you need to talk to Mark. He was behind all of it.” Jeremiah glared as Vic finished his speech. Vic didn’t care. As far as he was concerned if he won the election he’d be happy and if Mark won it he’d be happy, but if Jeremiah won, that would be wrong in so many different ways. “Jeremiah had nothing to do with the improvements. In fact he was against both of them.”

 

As the candidates left the stage, Mark walked over to Vic. “You’re awesome, Vic. Thanks for saying what you said about Jeremiah.”

 

“Our classmates need to know the truth,” Vic said.

 

“You could end up losing the election because of what you said.”

 

“It would be an honor to lose to you,” the little Vietnamese boy humbly admitted. The two exchanged fist bumps, but what Mark really wanted to do was grab his friend and give him a gigantic hug.

 

And now, on Friday, the students filled out their ballots and dropped them into their classroom’s ballot box. The ballots would be counted during second lunch by the eighth grade president, the student body president, and Mr. Vargas.  The winners would be announced before school let out for the day.

 

Everybody was antsy by the time the winners were read fifteen minutes before the dismissal bell. The students would only be told the winners; the number of votes each candidate received would not be revealed. The fifth grade winners were announced first by Dean Blowers.

 

“The winner for sixth grade secretary is Misha Larson.” Mr. Jackson’s class cheered loudly, with the members of the Posse cheering the loudest. The boys were all reminded that they would soon be sixth graders. Misha had easily outpolled Bryce, his opponent, 49-19.

 

Dean Blowers, unable to hear the noise in the classroom, went on. “The fifth grade treasurer will be Alden Egan.” While Alden’s election wasn’t a surprise, the members of the Posse had voted for Julio. They, along with Alden and Julio, would have been surprised at the closeness of the vote. Alden won by a vote of 38-30.

 

There were many who connected Alden with Jeremiah, but Alden had successfully convinced a lot of the fifth graders that he was as much a victim of Jeremiah’s deceptions as many of them were. The Posse was partly convinced by Alden’s position, but not enough to vote for him. On the other hand, he did give them the impression that maybe he wasn’t as malicious as they had thought—that he really had been duped by Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s earlier screaming fit managed to help Alden’s cause.

 

“The sergeant-at-arms will be Matthew Kirkwood.” This elicited another cheer from Mr. Jackson’s class. Matthew had defeated Tony, who made no bones about being Jeremiah’s friend until it was too late to change course. Besides, the Kirkwood twins were well-known and popular. Matthew won handily, 55-13.

 

Dean Blowers droned on. “The vice-president of grade six will be Patrick Gardner”. Patrick had run against Neville, which created some hard feelings. Mark was unhappy with Neville for running against Patrick.  Patrick’s ebullience, plus his having served as fifth grade vice-president, trumped Neville’s reticent personality. Patrick also won handily, 51-17.

 

“I will not be able to announce the next year’s sixth grade president, however.” Dean Blowers said. That brought a groan from the class, but they quickly quieted in order to hear the rest of the announcement. “None of the three candidates was able procure a majority of the votes. As a result, we will have a run-off election between Vic Nguyen and Mark Kirkwood next Wednesday.”

 

That elicited another cheer from Mr. Jackson’s class; Jeremiah had been defeated. The runoff would be between two popular members of their class. What nobody knew was how badly Jeremiah had been defeated. The vote was 33 for Vic, 32 for Mark, and 3 for Jeremiah.

 

Mark went over to Vic’s desk and high-fived him. Mr. Jackson’s telling Mark to get back to his own desk made the trip a quick one. Patrick and Misha, among others, didn’t fail to notice Mr. Jackson’s slow reaction time to Mark’s crossing the room; it was obvious he wanted to see the interplay between the two candidates.

 

The bus ride home after school gave Mark, Matthew, Patrick, and Will something to talk about. They were ready for Jeremiah to be in a foul mood and they were ready for him to blame his defeat on the Posse. What they didn’t expect was for him to grouse about Alden as well.

 

“He’s been dissing me ever since that phony video,” he griped to nobody in particular. “I bet he changed enough votes for me to lose.” Of course, Jeremiah had no idea just how badly he actually lost. If not for the votes of Tony, Cameron, and himself, there would have been a winner between Vic and Mark.

 

As Jeremiah kept grousing, Steve a seventh grader in the back seat sitting with his pants wide open, took his hand off of his hard cock long enough to yell out, “Jeremiah, you’re pissing me off. Nobody in his right mind would want to vote for you, so you know you probably got your ass kicked. Now shut up so I can finish taking care of business.”

 

The back of the bus roared, Jeremiah fumed and Mark, Matthew, Will, and Patrick all but buried their heads in their laps so Jeremiah and Tony couldn’t see how hard they were laughing. It was all Mrs. Deaver could do to keep the bus on the road. Tony had to turn away from Jeremiah in order to hide the smirk on his face.

 

 

The Posse and its deputies did nothing together as a group over Memorial Day weekend. It was not because there was bad blood between any of them. It was more because of parents having plans that didn’t include the Posse members socializing. Plus, the twins had issued two invitations to their fellow Posse members. One was for a special Posse overnight party at their place after school let out for the last day. The other was an invitation to their half-birthday party at the end of June.

 

For the twins, Saturday and Sunday was spent playing in a baseball tournament in Olympia. It was there they met the Corcoran        twins, who were playing for the Mayfield team. Both sets of twins were excited to meet another set of baseball playing twins. Mark liked it that Kevin was a catcher just like he was. Matthew wondered why neither of the Corcoran twins pitched.

 

Their teams met in their second game in the tournament, with the Thunderbirds outclassing Mayfield by an 11-1 score in a game shortened by the ten-run mercy rule. The Mayfield team wasn’t a bad team—the Thunderbirds were simply much more talented than they were and played at the top of their game. The T-Birds ended up finishing third in the tournament.

 

Monday had two things going for it as far as Mark and Matthew were concerned. First, it was nudist day. Second, their father had the pool cleaned, heated, refilled, and ready to go. That meant skinny dipping. It was agreed by parental fiat that opening day of the pool would be a family affair; after that both sets of twins as well as Scott and Kristy could invite guests.

 

Michelle and Megan couldn’t complain about the twin Things being naked since they were also unclad. Mark and Matthew were fascinated by their sister’s nudity. They’d seen their sisters naked many times, sometimes in sexually charged situations. They had seen other girls, like Cindy and Staci, naked as well. But, the female body never ceased to intrigue them—nor did the male body, for that matter.

 

“You’re getting hair down there,” Matthew observed not long after they entered the pool area. Both girls had a few wisps of very fine dark hair starting in their pubic region.

 

“So?” Michelle said. “It just means we’re growing up.” She ran her finger along his bare pubic area, sending a shiver through him. “And it is obvious that you two are not.”

 

“We shoot cum,” Mark reminded her.

 

“And we get our periods,” Megan countered. “But pubic hair means we’re becoming adults.”

 

“I’ve never seen a girl with pubic hair before.”

 

“You’ve never even seen any naked girls other than Megan and me,” Michelle huffed.

 

“Plus Staci and Cindy,” Mark bragged.

 

“You never told us about them.”

 

“Well, now we have.” Mark jumped into the pool with Michelle close behind. “And we’ve seen some of your friends almost naked, or did you forget about that?”

 

The twin sisters shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

 

“Remember”, he told her as they floated next to each other while holding on to the edge of the pool deck, “you owe me and Mattie blow jobs for our half-birthday.”

 

“I haven’t forgotten.”

 

“Too bad we shoot and you bleed,” Mark said, “or we could do even more.”

 

“Mark Kirkwood, you are really beyond gross. If you want to be like that you can forget your blow jobs.”

 

It was obvious that Michelle and Megan meant to hold Mark and Matthew hostage to the promised blow jobs. Mark resented that immensely. He decided he and Matthew would need to find a way to get back at their sisters.

 

Because their parents were home, there was a minimum of sexual talk and even less sexual play, other than some quick gropes underwater. The boys ended up groping each other more than they did their sisters, but overall the girls were in a good mood and were willing to trade a few good-natured feels with their brothers. They enjoyed the fact Mark and Matthew sported erections for most of the pool session.

 

 

Patrick and Misha spent a night with each other. Their time together started Saturday morning when Brian and Patrick picked Misha up at his house. They went out for breakfast at IHOP and Misha eagerly scarfed down his breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

 

“You eat like nobody feeds you at home,” Brian remarked.

 

“They do not have pancakes like this in Russia,” Misha said between bites.

 

“What about your mother? Doesn’t she make pancakes?”

 

“Her pancakes are very good. But these pancakes are the very most awesome pancakes.”

 

While Patrick had not yet incurred the burgeoning young adolescent appetite of his friend, the way he was stuffing his pancakes into his mouth indicated he was in full agreement with Misha’s analysis.

 

After breakfast they drove to Seattle and wandered along the waterfront until they arrived at Safeco Field for the Mariners’ afternoon game against the Kansas City Royals.

 

Misha and Patrick were both decked out in Mariner t-shirts and hats. They would be attending a Sunday game with their teams later in the season as part of a youth baseball day promotion and would be wearing their team uniforms for that. Of course hot dogs and garlic fries along with ice cold lemonade were in order. The Mariners made the outing a perfect one with a 5-3 win.

 

Maxine understood how much food the boys would be stuffing into their gullets during the day and prepared a light dinner when Brian brought them home. She had forgotten what a growing eleven-year-old can pack away, however, and had to give Misha a quick refill of soup.

 

That night, the two friends said their goodnights to the adults, stripped naked, and lay together in Patrick’s bed. They were a combination of tired and horny, with their naked bodies touching making them even hornier.

 

“Are we going to mess around?” Patrick asked.

 

“If I can stay awake we will,” Misha replied quietly as he rubbed Patrick’s smooth chest with his left hand.

 

“Are we going to suck each other?”

 

“Why are you asking me all of the questions? I am not the boss.”

 

“Because you’re older than me.”

 

Misha hugged Patrick tightly. His experiences at the orphanage had made him wise beyond his years. “That does not mean a thing. We are boyfriends and that is all that counts,” he said softly. Patrick broke out into his trademark grin, which Misha could see, even in the darkened room. “I will never be your bed master,” Misha finished.

 

“But Nikki was your bed master because he was older than you and you are older than me.”

 

“That was at the orphanage. This is here with us. It is not the same thing.”

 

Patrick thought he understood and nodded. At the orphanage the boys weren’t equals. Misha and Nikki weren’t true equals. Age meant everything and even two boys who shared the feelings that the two of them felt couldn’t completely shuck off the traditions of the orphanage.

 

“Do you think we should do it?” Misha asked.

 

“You mean suck each other?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Before Patrick could answer, there was a knock at the door. “Dad has the worst timing,” Patrick muttered. “Come in, dad.”

 

Brian came into the room, not surprised by the two boys in bed together. After all, Misha hadn’t brought any kind of bedding with him. Nor was he surprised by the bare shoulders showing above the blankets.

 

“I just wanted to give you two a good-night hug and kiss,” Brian told them.

 

“We said good-night already,” Patrick protested, remembering how his dad’s good-night had all but chased Ian out of his bed a few months ago.

 

“I don’t recall a hug.”

 

“You can kiss us, but no hug,” Patrick said, not wanting his father to know the two of them were totally naked. 

 

“Fair enough since you’re both already tucked into bed.” He gave Patrick and Misha each a kiss on their forehead and left the room. “Sleep tight,” he told them as he closed the door.

 

Unlike Ian, Misha didn’t freak out or leave the bed. “Your father is very nice,” he said. “And now you can tell me what you think.”

 

“I think I don’t want to do sucking tonight.”

 

“That is how I wish it.”

 

Their hands had found each other’s little boners as they talked. The talk ended, but the hands became more active. Their horniness trumped their tiredness. Patrick pulled the bedding off of them to give them more freedom.

 

Misha rolled over on top of Patrick and started grinding his cock into his friend’s hard little piece of steel. They didn’t stay in that position for long, as they turned once again, so that they were side-by-side. Patrick placed his lips against Misha’s and the boys kissed hard and passionately, quickly trading tongue. They had been here before and knew what they wanted from each other.

 

Misha pushed hard against Patrick, humping his cocklet. Patrick pushed hard back. They grunted and squeaked, their boyish voices advertising their sexual arousal. The bed jumped as they dry humped and kissed in a frenzy. Misha came first, once again rolling on top of Patrick so he could rub his dick hard against the smooth, damp skin of his boyfriend. His dry cum shook him hard, which shook Patrick and led him close to orgasm.

 

Patrick’s climax happened as Misha rolled off of him, trying to gather himself. Patrick rubbed against Misha’s left leg. Misha grabbed Patrick’s ass and pulled the ten-year-old tighter to him. Patrick pushed hard, humped the leg, and shivered with his own young boy orgasm.

 

Breathing hard the boys lay on their backs, barely touching each other. “I love you, Patrick,” Misha said. He’d said that to Nikki, but for some reason saying the same thing to Patrick meant so much more.

 

“I love you, too, Misha.” The boys cuddled their naked bodies together and were soon asleep. Being tired trumped all.

 

 

Ellis was excited to have Neville spending the night at his house for the first time. He would never have invited Neville over if his father hadn’t been home. There was no way he would leave his friend in the clutches of his mother.

 

He had just finished his Saturday breakfast. After showering, he painted his toenails a dark blue. He didn’t know how his somewhat dour friend would react to them, but decided that if Neville objected maybe Neville wasn’t as a good of a friend as he thought. 

 

He and his father picked Neville up at his house. “Nice place,” Ellis’s father observed as Neville came out of the front door, carrying his overnight bag.

 

“Dad, it’s not like we live in a slum.” Gordon and his family lived in a nice upper-middle class development, but it was nowhere near the class of the home Neville lived in. “They get points for the view, though,” Ellis conceded, although he didn’t say whether he meant the view of the Olympics or the view of Neville.

 

The boys spent the day with Gordon at the Seattle Center, where they especially enjoyed the Pacific Science Center. They went down to the waterfront afterwards to eat at Ivar’s, but didn’t run into Patrick and Misha who were already at the baseball game.

 

Gordon was fascinated by Neville’s background. “I have spent a great deal of time in England on my job,” he told Neville. Neville found himself really liking Ellis’s father, who expressed a great deal of fondness for his native country. They’d both been to some of the same places, which had Neville both pleased and proud.

 

“What was your father’s name again,” Gordon asked.

 

“Reginald St. Aubin-Jones.”

 

          “The advertising executive?”

         

Neville nodded.

 

“Then I know your father. My company does all of their advertising through your dad’s company.”

 

Ellis was particularly pleased that Neville and his father were hitting it off. He wanted his father to like his friends. He had two more reasons for being happy. For one, his father’s presence caused his mother to act almost like a normal mom. She didn’t flutter around Neville the way she had around Barry.

 

But the biggest reason for his happiness was the news his father had given them while they ate at Ivar’s. “I probably should discuss this with you in private and I will if you insist. But I have big news about my job.”

 

“Is it good news?” Ellis asked with a bit of trepidation. Whenever his father had news about his job, the news was never really good.

 

“It is a combination of good news and better news, I think.”

 

“Then I don’t care if Neville hears it as long as Neville doesn’t mind.”

 

“It’s okay with me,” Neville said.

 

“I just don’t want to end up crying because it means you’re going away again,” Ellis murmured.

 

“I think if you cry it will be from being happy,” Gordon said. “Besides, I am even giving you a bit of a say in this.” He took a deep breath and went on. “Because of a couple of retirements I have been offered my choice of two promotions. One would mean virtually no traveling—maybe a couple of weeks a year. The other would mean a one, three, or four day trip every other month.”

 

“Take the first one,” Ellis said, a wide grin splitting his face.

 

“That would mean us moving to Tulsa, Oklahoma. The second choice would have us staying here.”

 

Ellis looked at Neville, as if his friend had all of the answers. Neville simply shrugged. He didn’t want Ellis to move; he’d finally found a good friend. As weird as Ellis could be, Neville felt strong tugs of friendship with the smaller boy. But he also didn’t want to get involved in the family decision.

 

“All my friends are here, especially Neville,” Ellis explained. “I’m used to you being gone for a long time. A couple of days would be like you’re still home. Take the one here.”

 

“I thought you’d say that,” Gordon said. “I’ll give them my decision on Monday Tuesday.”

 

Ellis noticed the smile on Neville’s normally impassive face. He was even happier because Neville seemed to like the decision.

 

It was well after nine in the evening when the boys retired to Ellis’s bedroom. “Were you serious about not wanting to move because I’m your friend?” Neville asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

“You’re the best friend I’ve had since I left England.” He looked down at Ellis’s feet. “Even if your toes are blue.”

 

“Do you like them?”

 

“No, but I know you do, and I like you, so I guess your toes are okay.”

 

Ellis wasn’t completely sure what Neville’s answer meant, but he thought that it meant Neville had just accepted what he did, even if he didn’t like it.

 

“Are we sleeping naked?” Neville asked. Ellis nodded and both boys pulled off their underpants, sporting hairless pubescent boners. They wordlessly crawled into Ellis’s bed.

 

“I’m sorry you lost your election,” Ellis said.

 

“Patrick is popular. Plus he is our friend. Maybe I should have run against Alden, since we’re both not real popular.”

 

“Lots of people like you,” Ellis commented admiringly. “A lot more people like you than like Alden. You would have beat him easy.”

 

“Do you like Alden?”

 

Ellis thought of his night at Alden’s house, and of Alden taking his picture and keeping it and of all the trouble it caused. But, once again he wondered if Alden did all of that because Jeremiah made him. “Not really. I don’t hate him either.” Although maybe I should, Ellis thought to himself.

 

“I’m the only person on the Posse who didn’t win an election.”

 

“Somebody on the Posse had to lose between you and Patrick. And Mark hasn’t won his election yet. Vic’s pretty good.”

 

“Vic’s speech really helped Mark. Everybody was talking about it.”

 

“I don’t care if you won or not. We’ll both be able to help our class even if we didn’t win.”

 

“I suppose we can.” Neville didn’t sound convinced.

 

The boys lay quietly, the light still on. They were thinking sexual thoughts, wondering if there was going to be more to the evening that chatting and sleeping. They were enjoying the sensations of their naked bodies touching. Ellis knew that Neville could be shy about sexual things. Ellis, on the other hand was a very sexual boy even at age ten. Ellis liked it that Neville wanted to be friends with him. His experiences with Barry caused him to equate friendship with sex. Neville, on the other hand, felt two boys could be friends without sex, although his experiences with other boys since leaving England had been more sexual in nature.

 

“Do you want to mess around before we go to sleep?” Ellis asked.

 

“Why is it everybody is always thinking about sex?” Neville responded.

 

“Because it’s fun.” Ellis placed his hand on Neville’s crotch, pleased that despite his protestations, Neville was hard.

 

“You sound like my brother.”

 

“I’ve done everything he has. I bet I’ve even done more.”

 

Neville’s hand found Ellis’ two-and-a-half inch piece of boy steel and started rubbing it. “I don’t care,” he whispered. “I just want to have a best friend.”

 

“Me, too,” Ellis said quietly, rubbing Neville’s three-inch uncut piece of boy flesh and fingering his tight, smooth ball sac. “But we can still do this....” He let go of Neville’s package and pulled back the covers, placing his lips around his friend’s hard on as he scooted down the bed. The purple head pushed through Neville’s foreskin and Ellis licked Neville’s glans, savoring the aroma and the warmth of Neville’s groin.

 

Neville moaned with pleasure. I don’t want to do this, he said to himself, while at the same time he knew the moment he accepted Ellis’s invitation that sex would be a part of the equation. Neville kept his hand on Ellis’s circumcised erection, but all of his focus was now on his own pleasure as Ellis used his experienced mouth to give Neville the best sensations possible. Ellis liked this better than what he had been doing with Barry and his friends, because he knew Neville placed friendship first. He knew that even if he didn’t have any sex with him, that Neville would still want to be his friend.

 

Ellis wanted to finger Neville’s ass. He wanted to rim it, the way Barry, Thomas, and Frank had shown him. He wanted to kiss Neville, to battle his tongue, just like he’d done with the older boys. He wanted Neville to fuck him. But his instincts said this was all Neville wanted that night and he expertly sucked Neville to a climax that shook the bed and caused the eleven-year-old’s body to tremble.

 

“That was so ace,” Neville whispered.

 

Knowing Neville as he did, Ellis figured that was the end of their sexual session and he wasn’t surprised when Neville removed his hand from his cock and balls.

 

What did surprise him was Neville going down on him. Neville was raw, and clumsy, and new, yet what he did was extremely sexy. Ellis couldn’t hold out, his dry orgasm causing his cock to spasm inside of Neville’s mouth.

 

Neville raised his head, a trail of spit connecting his mouth to Ellis’s still hard cocklet. “Did I do a good job?” he asked.

 

“You were awesome,” Ellis enthused. “I never thought you’d do that to me after you came.”

 

Ellis stared at Neville’s sweet grin. He’d never seen his friend smile like that; as far as he was concerned he was looking at the most beautiful smile in the world. The boy crushes that Ellis and Neville had for each other were complete.

 

“I had to do it,” Neville said. “It is part of being friends.”

 

“Just being friends is more important.”

 

“Yes, being friends is more important,” Neville concluded, pleased that Ellis felt that way. To Neville those feelings put him and Ellis on a higher plane than Dylan and Evan.

 

The boys fell asleep in each other’s arms, overcome by feelings of happiness and contentment.

 

Next: Winding Down