Chapter XXXVI
Anthony Summers had enjoyed himself today. Messing around, hanging out with all the guys on the team at the photo shoot for the calendar today- it had been the most fun Anthony'd ever had with his clothes on. He even spent some time shooting the shit with a few of the freshman boys while the JV team had their photos taken. One boy, just turned fifteen, had his hair cut, conditioned and combed exactly like the neat, stylish look Henry had perfected years ago. He was nervous, terribly anxious about making the right impression here- but absolutely convinced that Henry Evans and his brother Mark were the kind of young man he wanted to be. He felt hurt, though, at being laughed at in front of them not long ago.
The black-haired senior had talked to him for a while, explaining things as best he could and giving out some advice, discreetly overlooking the fact that a couple of this kid's friends were clearly listening. They knew he was the senior class playboy, swapping girlfriends about every semester and always dating the attractive girls the Evans brothers had just broken up with, offering them a comforting shoulder whenever they needed it. So Anthony gave this kid some advice on girls, too, and he could tell his audience was paying close attention on that one. When he got up to leave, the freshman and his friends all thanked him, calling him "sir" as they'd been drilled to do when talking to any senior, especially an athlete, since the day they got here in September.
Anthony left the gym with a smile on his face. He'd done his good deed for the day.
Playing some of his favourite Rat Pack CD's on the way home, Anthony happily thumped time to the beat with one hand on the steering wheel. He had a giant Ford Expedition to drive wherever and whenever he wanted, newly-regained single status and plenty of prospects, and by next fall he was going to be starting the next best years of his life, another four at college. Partying his ass off, getting drunk as hell if he wanted, a chance at having sex with just about any girl there… not to mention pot, if he wanted some. It was gonna be a good four years. Anthony guessed he'd have to do some studying, too, though admittedly he had little if any idea what he really wanted to major in. None of the things he was looking forward to doing at college really had any listings in the Dean's office.
Not that it mattered. He'd just put it off until junior year of college if he had to, when you were required to declare a major if you hadn't already. It could wait.
The Summers house was in a nice, upper-middle-class neighborhood with newly-paved streets and plenty of trees, no more than five minutes from Chamberlain. It was a tall, off-white house with colonial-style sideboards and black shutters, and a two-car garage at the end of the driveway. Anthony had made free use of the spare bedroom over the garage over the years, sneaking out there at night if he and a friend or girlfriend needed some additional privacy. It was up there, leaning out of the window over the backyard, that Anthony had first tried a cigarette at thirteen, first smoked pot at fourteen, and first had sex at fifteen. It had been a good friend to him over the years, all right.
Anthony's giant Expedition had some trouble making its way down the flat, level driveway, designed for the cars of 1983 and not the increasingly-popular sport utility vehicles of 1998. There was a paved space of thirty feet by thirty feet between the house and the garage, and Anthony parked there with practiced ease, leaving the two spaces in the garage for his parents' cars.
I shouldn't have got so carried away, Anthony thought suddenly, trying not to laugh in spite of himself when he thought of how things had gone on Halloween. Lately, during their workouts at his house, Jason had been talking about "butt stuff" and how anybody who said it wasn't fun obviously hadn't done it. Anthony had gotten another of his bright ideas at the Halloween party last Friday, and as he often did when a little high and a little drunk, he'd tried to carry it out. While Rachel was on all fours on their bed in the room they'd gotten upstairs at Jason's place, Anthony had paused mid-thrust, pulled himself out, and tried to push in the "other" hole.
Rachel smacked him, and Anthony insisted it was an accident but during their second session tried it again. This led to him telling her to "fucking calm down," out of it as he was, and Rachel- who was a lot more sober- took it completely the wrong way. They argued, Anthony insisting there was no big deal, it didn't matter, why did she have to get so worked up. Finally Rachel decided she'd had it, threw her clothes on and left. Anthony tried to go after her but tripped, fell, and then realised he was a little too fucked up to get up again. She headed home early, he curled up and slept naked on the floor. They argued again on Saturday, and although Anthony tried to apologise, he still didn't see the mistake he'd made; not really. Rachel smacked him again and closed the door in his face, which was a good sign that it was the end of them going out.
As he opened the driver's side door of the Expedition, Anthony laughed, shaking his head. "Shame on you, Antony Ferrucio," he said with mock-sternness, shaking a finger at himself in the SUV's rear-view mirror and adding a bit of his mother's Italian accent. He chuckled. So he'd had something to drink, smoked some pot with Martin Brodinsky, and gotten a little out of line upstairs. So what? He'd just ask someone else out this Friday, step out to Exchange Street with a new girl on his arm. He'd run into this before and been fine every time.
Reaching into the backseat, Anthony grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He walked over to one of the two back doors to the house; the other was farther off to the right, opening onto the porch for the backyard. Turning the brass handle, Anthony stepped inside and quickly shut it behind him, shivering a little as he unzipped his prized black leather jacket. It cost almost as much as his truck, made-to-order for him personally by this place down in Portland's best shopping district. But there was nothing better on a cold day like this one, and Anthony valued good winter clothes highly, sometimes wondering why he couldn't have been born in Florida.
"Hello!" Anthony called, "I'm home!" Almost immediately his announcement was greeted with a couple of cheers and bounding feet. Shouting joyously, Anthony's younger sisters, Angela and Jessica, came bounding down the stairs and into the downstairs living room. He knelt as Angela reached him, grabbing her about the middle and lifting her up. Anthony spun around in a circle, making her laugh, and as he set the ten-year-old down, she stumbled a little. "Hey," she giggled, "Let's do that again."
"Anthony!" Jessica cried, "High-five!" She had her hand up, and Anthony swiftly raised his own right hand to meet hers. Then Jessica quickly brought up her left, then her right again, the second right-handed high-five being repeated twice. It was pretty complicated for something as simple as a high-five, but it had come up between the two of them over the last couple of years, and they had fun with it.
Anthony was getting ready to stand up again when they both seized him in a hug, holding him tight for a pair of ten and twelve-year-old girls. "We love you, Anthony," they chorused, and Anthony found himself tearing up. They were doing this on purpose, knowing he always got all flustered when getting emotional, but that he actually liked it.
But this time, Anthony put an arm around each of them and picked them up by the middle, effortlessly lifting them as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. Angela giggled and poked Anthony in the ribs, and Jessica crossed her arms and pretended to be annoyed. "Put me down!" she said, as Anthony walked up the hallway and towards the kitchen with them. "Yeah, put her down!" Angela agreed eagerly. "Just carry me!"
"No way!" Jessica exclaimed, abruptly changing her mind. "I'm his sister too, and he likes me better!"
"Does not!"
"Does too," Jessica said, looking over at Angela and sticking out her tongue.
"Mamma," Anthony called cheerfully, "Jessica's making faces at Angela again."
"Ooh," Angela snickered, "You's in trouble now."
"Jessica, behave," Francesca Summers called from the cupboard, stepping out with some seasoning in her hand. She tried to frown on seeing Anthony holding the two girls up, but couldn't, even when they started squabbling over which one of them Anthony liked better again.
"Good day at school?" she asked, smiling warmly. She was just over forty years old, and looking much closer to thirty. Anthony had inherited her beautiful black hair and brown eyes, her tanned Italian skin, and his father's athletic talent and boundless energy. At forty-three, he also seemed much younger, and tended to act like it too- a trait Anthony took a certain pride in imitating.
"Always," Anthony said cheerfully, setting his sisters down and separating them as they continued poking and slapping at each other. "Now, Jessica, Angela, you two need to behave for me, okay?" he asked. "I don't want you fighting about which one of you I like better. I like both of you."
"Sorry, Anthony," they both chorused, the very picture of contrition.
"All right," Anthony said after a moment. "Now go wash your hands, okay? If you're good I'll do something with you guys after dinner. You can pick."
"Yay!" Jessica and Angela cried happily, running down the hall to the bathroom.
"Hi, Mom," Anthony said, turning back to her. They embraced, and Anthony found himself feeling genuinely guilty, as he always did at these moments, about the parties. The cigarettes, the pot, the drinking, the cavalier love life with whoever he was dating this week- it was all so reckless, yet he kept doing it. Every time he hugged his mother and knew how much she loved him, every time he went to Mass like the good Catholic boy he'd been raised to be, Anthony felt guilty for the fun, reckless, care-free life he'd chosen to live. Yet no matter how many times he went to confession, or apologized to his mother, he could never quite stop it. He felt guilty about that, too.
"How were the pictures, how were the pictures?" Angela and Jessica chanted as they bounded back into the room. "Tell us!"
"Yes, Anthony," his father said as he came around from the dining room, "How'd that go?" Approaching Francesca from behind, he put his arms around her waist, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Hey, beautiful."
"Went great, Dad," Anthony said with a grin. Wandering over to join his sisters on the couch by the window, Anthony flopped down on the couch and stretched out. "I was the star of the show. They couldn't take their eyes off me."
Michael Summers was leaning up against the brushed-silver refrigerator's right door, doing his best to distract Francesca while she got the salad for tonight out and went about preparing it. "I bet someone knows what that's like," he said, winking and giving her a charming smile. Francesca shook her head in frustration, but she was smiling.
Anthony's father was always complimenting his mother, complimenting her any time he got the chance. A playful, energetic person from the start, he'd been one of the most popular boys in his class in high school, and during a four-year tour in the Army had almost gotten kicked out of Airborne School for the pranks he was always trying to pull. Like his mother, Anthony's father was plenty active for his age, and looked younger than he was. He also acted like it too,
"They had us on all these different sets," Anthony said, excited just thinking about it. "A different one for each month. And they had these outfits on all the sets. I was a Roman Legionnaire for March, and we dressed up like we were in the Old West for April. May, it was like we were in The Godfather." He nudged his sisters, listening eagerly while sitting to either side of him, and winked. "And for June and July, we were at the beach, and we all got to put on swim shorts and take our shirts off."
"Ew!" Angela said, scrunching up her face and shaking her head in revulsion. "Why'd they wanna see boys doing that?" Anthony laughed.
"Because they're cute," Jessica sighed wistfully. She'd been pestering Anthony about a calendar ever since she'd heard the school would be doing it- even though her brother was gonna be in it. Anthony was proud of how handsome he'd become, all those hours working out, going to practices- but he wasn't an idiot. His sister wanted to see the boys on the football team with their shirts off. Especially Mason Sarkozy, who Jessica had seen shirtless while he was over last year; she'd had a crush on him ever since.
"Yuk," Angela said, sticking her tongue out at Jessica. "Boys are annoying."
"You'll know when you're older," Jessica said, smiling condescendingly.
"I'm ten!"
"That's what I mean," Jessica said. She'd gotten to see Anthony work out with his friends a couple times this summer, playing shirts-and-skins teams for basketball in the driveway, and was becoming an authority on these things as her thirteenth birthday started to approach.
Anthony glanced over at the kitchen, where his father was kissing his mother. They looked like they were getting pretty into it, and Anthony coughed loudly, making them break apart suddenly. "So!" he said. "Nice day today, huh?"
"Uh, let's help your mother finish setting the table, Anthony," Michael Summers said, looking flustered. He tended to forget about other things when flirting with Francesca, and always seemed both confused and disappointed when someone reminded him. Anthony just smiled good-naturedly and got his sisters up, where they joined their parents in the dining room. Once they were all seated, Anthony said the prayer.
"Bless these gifts, O Lord, which we are about to receive from thy bounty. May our bodies and minds gain nourishment and strength, the better to dedicate ourselves anew to thy service." Crossing himself, Anthony added, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen."
"Amen," Angela, Jessica, Francesca and Michael added, crossing themselves as well.
XX
After helping clean up the table and put all the dishes, glasses and silverware in the dishwasher, Anthony made good on his promise to his sisters and let them pick something to do for the evening. Sitting by the fireplace, Anthony kept a fire going, adding logs now and then, while Angela and Jessica brought out checkers, connect-four, two puzzles, and Lincoln Logs. Anthony didn't think much of the Lincoln Logs, but realised his mistake when he found himself surrounded by some of the girls' favourite dolls and toys, using the houses, hotel, and lighthouse they'd built to play house for a while. Anthony had never been into Barbie or anything like that when he'd been their age, but when he actually go used to role-playing the various male characters he was given- mostly good-looking high school and college boys, even from Angela's set- he was surprised to find he didn't mind that much. It was actually kind of fun.
Anthony knew his friends would probably have found it hilarious, seeing the class playboy spending the evening with his kid sisters. But any of them that had siblings- deep down, they understood.
Well, most of them.
That brought Anthony to something he remembered from years ago, back in 9th grade when he and the Evans brothers had really started hanging out. Though inwardly surprised at Henry Evans' sudden and swift rise in popularity, Anthony had been glad to invite Henry and Mark over to hang out a couple of times that fall. They threw a basketball around in the driveway, and a football in the backyard, smoked cigarettes out behind the garage where the plentiful old oak trees hid them both from Anthony's parents and nosy neighbors. A pretty good time, like Jason- who Anthony had been friends with since elementary school- or any of his other friends.
Then they'd gone inside, and Anthony's sisters, who'd been watching "Madeline" in the living room, both came sprinting down towards him while he, Mark and Henry had been on their way to the kitchen for drinks. He'd spun around, knelt and caught both of them, pulling them in for a hug. Spontaneous shows of affection like this were common between Anthony, Jessica, and Angela, just as common as the petty, usually playful squabbles they got into. When they separated, Anthony stood up and was about to introduce his sisters to the Evans brothers when he saw the expressions on their faces.
They were identical.
Mark and Henry's faces were blank, totally expressionless. Their eyes, on the other hand, held annoyance, contempt. Like something about what they were seeing was distinctly unpleasant to them.
"So who are you two?" Henry demanded harshly, like he was bored already just having to ask.
"I'm his sister," Jessica had replied defensively.
"Me, too," Angela had answered, glaring at them. She was almost four, and didn't take to anyone who questioned her friendship with her big brother.
"Oh," Mark had said, and he and Henry went over to the kitchen, got a can of lemonade for each of them, and headed back outside.
"Sucks for you, dude," Henry called. "We'll be outside."
Anthony had been so surprised he hadn't said a word. He'd just had no idea how to react. Jason, Paul, John, Mason- plenty of Anthony's friends had been over before and had met his sisters. None of them had ever reacted like this.
What was stranger still was that as soon as Anthony was back outside that afternoon, Henry and Mark warmed right up. They displayed none of that icy, ill-concealed impatience that had so rapidly asserted itself when Angela and Jessica had been hugging Anthony. But from that afternoon on, every time they were over and Jessica and Angela were around, Henry and Mark became snappy and impatient. Talking to them about it didn't help; the brothers simply got bored and asked if he was gonna waste all afternoon talking about his dumb sisters. Anthony's parents didn't seem to notice; they liked Henry and Mark, as all the teachers and parents in their lives did. But Angela and Jessica never liked Henry or Mark Evans.
Anthony couldn't get much out of his sisters, either- and they usually talked to him about things fairly easily. All either one would say is that Henry and Mark were "mean". Anthony tried to convince himself he was just exaggerating things, that the Evans brothers and his sisters would warm up to each other a little after they'd seen each other more. But every single time he invited the Evans brothers over freshman year, Anthony found that cold, contemptuous attitude being shown to his sisters again, and it was clearly upsetting them. The whole thing made Anthony feel terribly awkward, and since nothing else seemed to work, by the end of freshman year he simply didn't invite the Evans brothers over anymore. He began suggesting they go out somewhere, hang at Jason's or somebody else's place, and Anthony did well enough with these suggestions he was certain neither Henry nor Mark ever suspected he was making excuses.
Anthony didn't like having to get serious about things; it wasn't his style at all. But he loved his sisters, and felt repulsed by how Henry and Mark had seemed to almost expect him to treat his sisters as nothing but pests. Unwilling to do that, Anthony had shifted things away from hanging out at his house, anytime Henry and Mark were involved. He hadn't invited them over one time since the 9th grade.
XX
Angela yawned, curled up and fell asleep by the fireplace around 7:30, and Anthony effortlessly hoisted her up and carried her upstairs to bed in his arms. Jessica followed, having already negotiated with Mom and Dad to have their Lincoln Logs town stay up and intact until tomorrow at least. She was pretty good at that, and it made Anthony laugh to think she might've learned it from him. You needed to be a good negotiator to keep getting to go out on dates or trips to the mall when your grades weren't always the best, and Anthony could be pretty persuasive when he needed to be. And very charming.
After Anthony had tucked Angela in, he started to head off to his own room, but Jessica tugged on his arm in the dark.
"What's up?" he asked her, sensing she had something to ask.
"What's it like when you kiss a girl?" she asked.
Anthony thought about that for a moment. Not what it was like- he knew that- but how best to tell your twelve-year-old sister, for whom liking boys was still difficult to admit. "It's like there's electricity, all through your body, but it's not bad. You just feel really good."
"Is it like that if you're a girl?" Jessica asked curiously. "If you're kissing a boy?"
"My girlfriends say so," Anthony said with a wink, and Jessica made a face at him. "Ew," she said, "I don't wanna think about that, Anthony." But Anthony wouldn't have any of that; he scooped up Jessica like she was as light as air and carried her over his shoulder to her room, across the hall from his. Abruptly, he plopped her down on the bed and started tickling her mercilessly, making Jessica giggle and squirm as she tried to fend him off.
"Girls think I'm cute, Jessica," Anthony said relentlessly. "Say it, say 'Girls think you're cute'!"
"No, they don't!" Jessica giggled. She kept up with that answer, even though she'd actually walked in on Anthony and Rosalyn McEwen making out in the living room one afternoon last year. Thank God that sofa's back was to the door Jessica had come in through, because Anthony'd had his hand in Rosalyn's pants at that moment- something that would definitely have taken time to explain. A lot more, in fact, than it took to explain what kissing was like.
Finally, Anthony showed mercy and let Jessica go, and as soon as she could breathe again she put her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Good night, Anthony," she said quietly, "You're my big brother."
"Yeah, yeah," Anthony said, trying to sound dismissive, but he hugged Jessica back so she'd know he didn't mean it.
Back in his room, Anthony took off his shirt and changed into a new pair of boxers, knelt by his bed and prayed. As he got into bed and went to sleep under the covers, he wondered again, briefly, why Henry and Mark had been so irritable around his sisters. After all, they had Connie, whom Henry had known all his life. Anthony had met her. She seemed like a pretty nice sister, yet they couldn't seem to see it. None of it really made any sense.
One other thing occurred to Anthony, keeping him up while he stared up at the ceiling of his room in the dark. John LaFleur. Something was going on with him. He had been a miserable wreck at that last party he went to, didn't show for Halloween- no costume at school this year, either. Anthony remembered how shy he was during the photo shoot, how quiet he'd been the whole time. It had nagged at him, until finally Anthony went over and asked.
"What's happening, man? What's going on?" Anthony had asked him, speaking quietly.
"I-I don't want anybody to see me with my shirt off," John had said, almost inaudible. "Can you help me out, man? Please?"
Anthony had replied instinctively, barely giving it any thought. He'd just nodded. "Sure."
But he still had no idea what any of that had been about. John LaFleur lately, and the Evans brothers when it came to his sisters. Anthony didn't care for too many genuine mysteries in his life. Mysteries weren't much fun.
XX
Saturday, the 14th, was Chris' second time going over to Jason Morgan's place, and his second time meeting up with Jason and Anthony to work out. He'd talked it over with them on Friday, and this afternoon Anthony came by to pick him up.
Chris normally tagged along whenever they went to work out after school at the YMCA, and his first impression, showing up and agreeing to take on Henry Evans in a boxing match, seemed to have lasted. He now had Nicole watching him, along with a regular audience of the guys in Henry and Mark's group, and any other boys from Chamberlain who happened to be at the Y that day. It was amazing how many people remembered him volunteering to box Henry, and his showy act of taking his shirt off after Henry had done so, silently boasting of all the muscle he was sporting. Chris lost that first boxing match, and he'd lost every one with Henry or Mark since, but he still fought with spirit- and he was apparently doing something folks liked.
He had friends here now, and knowing he really did have some buddies cheering him on helped. Plus, Nicole had started coming along to watch. That first Friday after Halloween, when Chris had been especially sore after working out for over an hour and losing to Jason, Henry and Mark in a row, she'd told him how she'd always thought he- Chris- was hot, and gave him a blowjob while Chris sat there in the driver's seat of his Camaro. He'd forgotten all about his sore muscles and bruises that night.
But despite all that, Chris vividly remembered showing up early and working out with Anthony and Jason at the Morgan house on Halloween. He had felt truly at ease around them. If Chris had any friends at this school, these two were the ones. Chris had a feeling he'd rather work out with Jason and Anthon, even though they all usually went to the Y. He just liked this better.
And working out at Jason's before the party, seeing how strong Jason and Anthony really were, had shown Chris what a lightweight he was by comparison. He needed to do this. If he had any real hope of making it onto the Varsity hockey team at this school in the spring, regular, serious workouts needed to start happening.
Coming by at three in the afternoon, Chris took a lot of tutoring and hints from Jason and Anthony before they started, listening to everything and learning all he could. This time, the two lifelong athletes worked out like they normally would, and Chris pushed himself hard as he fought to keep up. His muscles cried out for mercy, one after the next, and his bare chest shone with sweat- all of him did. When they were finally done, and went for a smoke outside before they went to swim in the pool, Chris slung a moist towel around his neck, sighing at how good and cool it felt.
"Damn," Jason said with a smile as he set a hand on Chris' bicep, "This guy's getting strong, man."
"Better," Anthony smiled. "Still not as good as us, though."
"Hell no, he's not."
"Bet you, who gets laid more often," Chris said, still short of breath but fighting to hide it. They had just stepped outside, and Chris mimicked Jason and Anthony as they threw on their jackets and zipped them up.
Anthony laughed, shaking his head incredulously. "Man, did you hear that? Pops his cherry a week ago and he thinks he's John Wayne."
"Makes you a man, doesn't it?" Jason said knowingly, taking a cigarette from Anthony and lighting it up. "He's just realised that you gotta take shit instead of standing around asking for it. He wanted some pussy, so he got it."
"Fuckin-A," Chris said in his best tough, cool-guy voice, reaching into his pocket and taking out the brand-new butane lighter he'd bought at a drug store last week. He wasn't eighteen, but the college guy at the counter hadn't cared enough to ask. The cigarettes were a gift from Andrew Cadiz, who seemed to have a way of locating them pretty often.
Lighting up the correct end of the cigarette and placing the filter in his mouth, Chris coughed as he took a drag and his lungs tried to reject it immediately.
"Oh, another first, huh?" Jason said, and Anthony laughed.
"Fuck-you-" Chris got out, coughing some more.
"Look, dude," Jason said, "You gotta breathe in while you're lighting it, not just after. Especially when you're gettin' used to it."
"Yeah, thanks," Chris said, and when he stopped coughing took another drag. He coughed some more, but kept it under control this time, and before long was taking deep breaths, just like Jason said, the burning sensation of the tobacco smoke hot and irritating for his lungs, throat and eyes, but a little enjoyable too. Chris really had no interest in smoking by itself, no more than any other seventeen-year-old, but it was clearly a thing the cool kids liked to do around here. Word had it the Evans brothers went through a pack a week, at least, though how they kept that shit up with the athletics schedule they had in a year was anybody's guess.
The three boys were all sweaty from the workout, Chris most of all, and before long they were all starting to shiver. Chris waited, though, until Anthony and Jason had tossed theirs before heading inside, making a point to take one long, last drag before putting his in the sand-filled stone urn near the door.
"Chris," Anthony asked as they headed around to the pool, "Are you gonna fuckin' get naked again, man?"
"So what if I do?" Chris asked, already reaching for the elastic band on his exercise shorts.
"It's weird, dude," Anthony said, the look on his face saying that was supposed to be obvious.
"Too bad," Chris said, pulling his athletic shorts off and tossing them aside before stepping out of his boxers. He jumped into the pool, swimming around idly while the other two boys looked at him, too surprised to do much else.
"It's cool, guys," Chris told them with a wink. "Look all you want to."
Jason and Anthony both laughed at that, shaking their heads.
"Guess we better get used to him doin' this," Jason said.
"Well, I'm not gonna bother going to the damn bathroom to change, then," Anthony said, and dropped his shorts to the tiles right there.
"Oh, fuck," Jason said, looking away. "Not you, too."
"Why?" Anthony said, flexing his biceps and striking a pose, his hips planted wide apart. "Do you find me… distracting?"
Jason shook his head and left to go change. Anthony sat down on the pool deck for a minute, swim shorts in hand, his legs and feet in the water.
"Dude, seriously," he asked after a few moments' of silence, "Why do you keep getting naked when we go to swim, man? Anything I oughta know?"
"Nah," Chris said, though a variety of crazy answers suggested themselves abruptly. "I just like the way I look, man."
Anthony laughed. "You're just doin' it to be funny, aren't you?"
"That and I really do like the way I look."
The Italian-American playboy smiled, gesturing at himself. "Now you know how I feel." And Chris had to say, Anthony was fit, one of the best-conditioned guys he knew at school. He wasn't as fast or as strong as Henry and Mark Evans, but not even Jason could best them.
Jason came back into the room with his swim shorts on, and Anthony got up and stepped into his. The two jumped into the pool, and Chris delighted in the cool, almost warm water, swimming around as he admired himself in the pool's lights from down on the bottom. Before long, though, Chris felt himself getting tired, but he wouldn't let himself give in yet. He waited another ten minutes, pushing himself even after the workout today, until Anthony got out and joined Jason over at the hot tub.
"I hope you're not that little when Nicole's blowing you," Jason said as Chris walked over, and the redhead felt himself blush crimson. He managed to smile slyly, though, and retorted, "Well, you can blow me, and see how big I get."
Now it was Jason's turn to blush, sputtering furiously while Anthony cracked up. Chris just got in and put his arms up to either side of him, just as cool as you please.
"You're an asshole," Jason said, glaring and trying to be angry, but he gave it up after a few moments. "Whatever," he said. "Fucking skinny-dippy ginger kids."
"You telling me you don't ever come in here and do that when your folks are out?" Anthony asked, a little surprised.
"Well-uh, yeah," Jason admitted, reluctantly. "But that's different."
They debated this back and forth for a while before silence fell again, each of the boys just relaxing and calming down after their workout. Chris remembered his hopes of adding in extra workouts here, and of going up for Varsity hockey in the spring. Maybe this was a good time to mention that.
"Hey, Jason," Chris said apologetically, "I'm sorry about- skinny dipping in your pool, man. If you really want me to stop I won't do it anymore." He meant it, too; he was really getting to like Jason, and had no desire to antagonize him with his antics.
Jason gave a shrug of his muscular shoulders. "It's all good, man."
"So what's on your mind, Chris?" Anthony asked, looking at him curiously. "Seems like something is."
"Besides fucking Nicole," Jason said, grinning and slapping Chris' raised hand for a high-five. The two boys laughed, and Chris again felt a wonderful sense of belonging. He still couldn't believe he'd been so lucky this semester. After a few moments, though, he returned to his original thoughts, and said what he'd been thinking of.
"Anthony, Jason- I wanted to ask you guys about a couple things, man," he said, and they nodded for him to go on.
"I really like coming over here and working out with you guys, and I'd like to keep doing that. How's that sound?"
"Sure," Anthony said, looking over at Jason. "What do you think, dude?"
"I think anybody as cocky as this motherfucker is good to hang with us anytime," Jason said with a grin, and he and Anthony slapped palms and bumped their fists together.
"So that's a yes?" Chris asked hopefully, though he already sensed what the answer was.
"Yeah, dumbass, it is," Jason said sarcastically.
"And what else?" Anthony asked, starting to smirk. "Anything's fine, as long as it's not where babies come from."
"Oh, I think he already knows that, bro," Jason said with a grin, and Chris grinned himself. It was like he'd been admitted to the ranks of men now, just by hooking up with a hot girl at a party. Well. Hooking up with her twice and then starting to go out with her. It was a nice addition to his romantic resume, and had clearly impressed Chris' friends.
"Well," Chris managed, "I wanted to try out for the Varsity Hockey Team in the spring. I need to work out more to get ready for that, and I'd like your guys' help to get ready for the tryouts."
He felt his heart beating a little faster now, and not just because of the nicotine he was getting a little buzz from. He loved hockey, and really wanted to show he had what it took to play his favourite sport at this school. And more specifically, he wanted to be on the team with his friends- and that meant he had to be good enough to make it in the best high school hockey team in New England, and one of the best on the United States.
Chris knew he was going to need some help with that.
Jason looked at Chris for a few moments, thinking it over. Anthony waited to say anything until he did, and Chris fidgeted nervously with the white gold cross he was wearing.
"All right," Jason said. "Tell you what. Once a week, Saturday if I'm not busy, I wanna see you and Anthony over here. And we're gonna need to do some hockey practice between now and January, too. You're gonna have to give up a lot of your free time for this, man. You up for it?"
"Absolutely," Chris answered immediately.
"We're gonna help you get stronger, Chris," Anthony said with a smile. "Don't you worry about it. We'll show you everything you need to know."
"Thanks, guys," Chris said, feeling a rush of gratitude. "I-this means a lot to me."
Anthony shrugged, looking pleased nonetheless, and Jason just smiled at Chris. "It's nothing, Chris. You're my friend, and I help my friends. It's as simple as that."
Chris went to bed with a lot of stiff, sore muscles that night, but by Sunday evening he could already tell he was just a little bit stronger, the muscles on his chest, stomach, arms and legs just a little firmer. He was looking forward to as many workouts as he had time for between now and the spring. Those tryouts weren't gonna be easy. Not at this school.
But Chris knew he was going to go for it. He needed to, both for his status here at his new school, and for himself. He needed to get back in the rink again.