*Before we begin I must say that I know next to nothing about American
geography, and as I was too lazy to take the time to educate myself, my
ignorance will likely show through in this chapter. I don't know if you can
buy property in a national park, but the Banks' have done so here. The
cabin the Ducks are staying in is located in northern Minnesota, and there
is lots of snow. Whether this is accurate or not, I am not sure. If not,
please accept my humble apologies.*
Charlie's POV:
The first thought that went through my head when I saw the place was: "This isn't a hunting lodge, it's a goddamned ski resort!"
Since the cabin was located in a national park, the Greyhound dropped us off at the parks and wildlife centre, where a couple of rangers were kind enough to take us up in their Jeeps. I don't know what we would have done if they hadn't, but Adam seemed all buddy-buddy with them, so maybe his family is paying them off or something.
The lodge was huge and sprawling, its back half supported by stilts since it overlooked a lake, frozen now in wintertime but still beautiful. Someone had gone to pains to ensure the rustic look; the cabin was made of logs that had been stained a deep cherry red, but it still screamed money. There was a large clear area in front of the cabin, and then the forest began, enveloping it on all sides, even where it bordered the lake. I shuddered at the thought of getting lost in there.
There was knee-deep snow all around us, piled all the way up to the cabin's windows in huge drifts, and icicles hung from the eaves. We walked up the path leading to the front door, dragging our bags behind us. All the snow had been shovelled clear, presumably by those trusty rangers (they have got to be getting kickbacks for this). We went inside, but not before I noticed what appeared to be a three-car garage jutting out of the cabin's right side.
"Fuck me, Conway, your boyfriend is loaded!" Portman exclaimed, dropping his bag and looking around in amazement. I had to agree with his assessment; this place must have cost more money than my mother could make in her lifetime. The entrance hallway led onto an enormous living room filled with leather couches and easy chairs and a gigantic fireplace at one end, which was already cracking and popping merrily. Those rangers really knew what side their bread was buttered on. The ceiling was vaulted all the way to the roof of the cabin, and a spiral staircase wound its way up to a balcony on the second floor, which I assumed had bedrooms and stuff.
Adam gestured to a hallway leading out of the living room. "Kitchen and bathroom are through there, on the left hand side. Pool's to the right..."
"You've got to be shitting me," I heard Connie mutter.
Adam just smiled and continued talking. "Bedrooms and the other bathroom are up top. There are four bedrooms--" smothered gasps from some of the Ducks, "so I'm not sure how it'll work, but I guess we can go check it out."
After a short debate, it was decided that Adam and I would stay in his room, while Julie and Connie would take one guest room, and Guy and Ken the other. The guest rooms were connected by a shared door, so I figured there might be some clandestine visits going on at night, and maybe not just between Connie and Guy. I had seen Julie eyeing Kenny with an expression I couldn't quite read all through the bus trip. The Bashes, it was determined, would lodge in Adam's parents' room, mainly because the king- sized bed in there was the only one big enough to hold them both.
After we'd dropped off our bags and looked around a bit, we adjourned to the living room, sprawling out on the couches or, in the case of Fulton and Portman, stretched out on the floor in front of the fire like a couple of basset hounds. It was hard to believe it was barely eleven in the morning; it felt like much later. Speaking of hard to believe... I cast a glance toward the Bashes. Fulton was lying with his head on Portman's stomach, and Portman was twirling his fingers absent-mindedly through Fulton's hair as he looked around in awe. From the way they were acting, you'd think they'd been together for three years instead of three weeks. They just seemed so...comfortable with each other. When Adam and I first got together, we were all hot and heavy, but also pretty awkward and uncertain, not really sure where to go next, or how far was too far, or anything like that. Well, the Bash Brothers were such atypical people, I guess it stood to reason that their relationship would be far from average, as well.
"So exactly how far are we from civilisation, Adam?" Julie asked.
"Well, there are five other cabins in this park, but there's no one in them now. The nearest town is at least an hour's drive away, but there's a little strip of stores down by the ranger station. That reminds me, someone will have to go down there today, we don't have much in the way of food--"
"Fulton and me will go," Portman said so quickly and eagerly that we all turned to look at him.
Adam grinned. "Ah, so I take it you two looked in the garage, huh?" Portman nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, we have a couple of snowmobiles, that's how we get down to the station and back in the winter."
"Just tell us what to get and we'll go pick it up," Portman said, getting to his feet.
"Yeah, right now, if you like," Fulton added.
"Hold on guys, we'll make a list," said Julie, pulling a notepad and pen out of her shoulder bag. "Does anyone know how to cook?" A few head shakes and mumbled negations gave her all the answer she needed. "So we're going to live off cereal and Kraft Dinner for two weeks?"
"I can cook a little, but it's all Chinese stuff," Kenny said. "I doubt they'd carry much of it in a little general store."
I saw Fulton elbow Portman in the ribs. "What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing," Portman replied. "Except that I can sort of cook a little."
Fulton grinned wickedly and poked him in the side. "Oh, don't be modest, honey," he said, ignoring Portman's icy glare. "Hasn't Portman told you? He wants to be a chef when he grows up."
"You are so dead," Portman snarled, and the next thing I knew they were rolling around on the ground, and Connie had to jump out of the way to avoid being squashed. Portman managed to pin Fulton to the ground, and was sitting on his chest looking very pleased with himself. "Take it back. Tell them I don't want to be a chef."
"Oh, right, I forgot! You want to be a ballet dancer now, don't you?" Fulton said mischievously, and we all laughed at the image of Portman doing Swan Lake in a leotard.
"Oooh, I'm going to kill you! Take it back or I'll spit on your face!" Portman cried, leaning over so his face was directly above Fulton's, who was squirming around, trying to get free.
"No, I've had enough of this lie!" Fulton cried melodramatically. "You have to stop trying to hide who you are! Tell them the truth; that the Dean Portman they know is a sham! The real Portman loves to cook, he's knitting a sweater for his mother, his favourite colour is pink, and he listens to Mariah Carey!"
The rest of us were practically in tears from laughing so hard and Guy called out, "It's okay, Portman, you don't have to be ashamed--"
"I'm not ashamed!" Portman bellowed, his face red with frustration.
"You don't have to lie to us anymore," I said soothingly, trying to keep a straight face.
"Yeah, Portman, they don't care, they love you anyway," Fulton grinned. "Tell them that your favourite movie is Message in a Bottle, and that whenever you see it, you hide away in the bathroom and have yourself a good cry."
"Oh, that's it," Portman cried, throwing up his arms in exasperation. In doing so, he let go of Fulton's wrists, who immediately punched his boyfriend in the stomach and took off, leaving poor Portman gasping for breath. Moments later he was on his feet, chasing after Fulton, who had taken off up the stairs.
We all listened in silent amusement to the thudding of their feet as they tore around after each other. A minute or two later, they reappeared, Portman holding Fulton in a headlock of sorts. They were both panting and grinning as Portman dragged his catch towards us. "Say it."
"Okay, okay. I apologise for my earlier comments, especially anything that insulted Portman's manhood or threatened his reputation; he does not in fact, listen to Mariah Carey."
"Thank you!" Portman cried, releasing his grip and throwing up his arms, this time in victory.
"Okay, so you guys are officially insane," Adam said calmly. "Here's a list of things we need, if you see anything else, just get it. My parents have a line of credit at the store, so they'll just charge it to them."
"Okay. See ya!" And the Bash Brothers were out the door. Moments later we heard the roar of engines, and as we looked out the window we saw two snowmobiles go tearing out of the garage and take off down the road at breakneck speed.
"You know," Connie said thoughtfully. "I thought their being gay was somehow going to change things, but it hasn't. They're exactly the same as they used to be, aren't they?"
"Yeah," Kenny agreed. "Just a little more snuggly."
"What say we take advantage of their absence and try out the pool?" Adam suggested. "If we wait till they come back, you know they'll spend the whole time dunking us."
We all agreed, and as we went upstairs to get changed, my thoughts were filled with one thing and one thing only: Adam in a Speedo. Yowza.
***
Kenny's POV:
"Kenny, no!
"Don't do it!"
I looked up in surprise, my mouth full of brownie. Fulton and Portman, who had been cozied up in front of the fire, had leapt to their feet and were running towards me.
I swallowed guiltily. "I'm sorry, were you guys saving these or something?"
We had been here at Banks' cabin for eight days now; it was hard to believe the trip was more than halfway over, it felt like we'd just got here. It had been snowing pretty much the entire time, but nobody was complaining. We played hockey on the frozen lake and waged tagteam snowball wars. Everyone took delight in the twisted snow sculptures the Bashes kept making. Today, the newest addition to "Frosty's House of Horrors" as Portman called it, had included one snowman stabbing another to death with a pair of scissors, and the decapitated head of another unfortunate snowperson. Both "creations" came complete with red food colouring in the place of blood, and the pair had seen fit to place the severed head on the front stoop, ring the bell and run away, giving poor Adam a hell of a shock when he opened the door.
With regards to our culinary concerns, all had worked out fine; Portman hadn't been exaggerating when he said he could cook. He made everything from hamburgers to scrambled eggs to pizza and baked potatoes; he had prepared every single meal we'd eaten, and it was all damn good, too. Even though he had been only playfully enraged by Fulton's teasings about his masculinity, those of us small enough to be injured in a wrestling match with him were unwilling to risk incurring his wrath, and made certain not to make jokes about it.
Charlie, Adam, Connie and Guy had gone out snowmobiling, and the rest of us were hanging around in the living room; Portman had just put a lasagne in the oven for when the others got back in an hour or two. It was so cute watching him cook; Fulton was always right beside him, trying to help out, but from what I saw he did more harm than good, though Portman didn't seem to mind.
There were brownies cooling on two of the metal racks by the sink, and they smelled so good that I'd eaten one. It had been delectable, all warm and gooey, but I immediately regretted my decision when I saw the expressions on the Bashes faces. They looked at each other in dismay.
"Anything we can do now, Fult?"
"Nothing short of inducing vomiting."
I looked at them in confusion. "Look, I'm really sorry, I just thought--"
"What's up, guys?" Julie, who had been reading in the living room, had evidently heard the commotion and had come over to see what all the fuss was about.
"Kenny ate one of our brownies," Portman said, struggling to hold back a smile.
"So? You made two whole batches."
"Julie, he had one of our special brownies. The other batch were regular ones for you guys."
"Oh. You mean..."
"He means Kenny here's got about half an hour before he gets messed with real good," Fulton finished.
"Oops," I said lamely.
Portman put his hands on his hips and looked at me angrily; I was scared for a moment until I realised he was kidding. "Do you have any idea what you've just done? Now Fult and I'll have to have one too, so you don't trip out alone."
"Yeah," Fulton said, glaring at me as he crammed an entire brownie into his mouth at once. "Damn you, Kenny Wu."
"What the hell," Julie said as she reached for the tray.
"You sure you want to do that Jules?" Portman asked. "They're pretty hard- core."
She smiled at him sweetly, and I felt my knees get watery. "I can take care of myself, thanks."
"Tell me something I don't know," Portman said admiringly, as he bit into his own chocolatey treat.
I had been sweet on Julie for some time now, but I'd never come close to working up enough courage to ask her out. You'd think that my dream would seem less impossible now that I was hanging out with her so much more, but in fact, the opposite was true. The more time I spent with her, the more I got to know her, and the more I got to know her, the more certain I was that she was the very embodiment of perfection, and that there was no way in hell she'd ever go out with me.
The only person I had told about all this was Fulton, after he'd come to my dorm to thank me for my support during the whole Adam/Charlie thing. I don't even remember how it happened, but the next thing I knew I was telling him all about my unrequited crush.
"Portman, why don't you set the timer on the oven so the lasagne doesn't burn," Fulton said. "And Julie, can you put the rest of the pot brownies away so we don't have any more accidents?"
As Portman and Julie set about their tasks, Fulton grabbed me by the arm and hauled me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. "Dude, this is your chance!" he whispered excitedly.
"Huh?"
"With Julie, man! It's perfect, you can tell her how you feel, and if it doesn't work, blame it on the brownie!"
I had to admit, the plan was very appealing to my cowardly sensibilities. "But what if she only says yes because she's high?"
"Weed doesn't work like that. Besides, she likes you, believe me." He shoved me towards the door. "Come on Kenny, you can do it!"
Once the effects of the brownie took hold, all plans for winning the heart of Julie Gaffney faded from my mind, along with all other coherent thoughts, replaced by a lot of crazy shit. My mind is still going through the events of that evening, trying to figure out how one thing led to another. The fact of the matter is that I did profess my feelings to Julie, and she seemed to reciprocate, because when the others came back, it was to find her rubbing chocolate fudge icing all over my chest and licking it off seductively, while Fulton and Portman did the same on the couch beside us. Somewhere in between all this was a snow angel contest, a really weird game of Clue, and Julie giving makeovers to the three of us so we looked like $20 hookers. Like I said, as far as the motivations behind the actions of that night go, things get pretty hazy, but I don't regret a single thing I did, and as long as Julie doesn't either, this will have to go down in history as one of the best nights I've ever had.
***
Guy's POV:
One thing not many people know about my girlfriend, Connie Moreau: she loves sex. I figure she must have inherited this trait from her parents, because with six kids, they're either extremely fertile, or they enjoy life's more carnal pleasures as much as their daughter does.
I was ten when I first asked Connie to go with me, even though I was quite unsure of what exactly this entailed. She said yes, and we had been "Connie and Guy" ever since. As far as I was concerned, there was only one girl in the world for me, and Connie was she. Though the Ducks often teased us about being an old couple, I had little fear that we were getting stale on nights like these, as she led me by the hand down the darkened staircase to the first floor of Banks' lodge.
Connie and I took it pretty slow in the beginning, I was almost twelve before we had our first kiss, but things started to pick up during the Goodwill Games, at Connie's insistence. We agreed that we would sleep together if we placed first in the tournament, and had been doing the beast with two backs a couple times a week ever since, and it had been a nightly occurrence here at the lodge.
Don't get me wrong, Connie was no pervert; she didn't have any sick fetishes or weird demands or anything. She was like that girl in the song, she "just liked getting her fuck on." And don't think I was complaining, either; I am a guy after all, it's just kind of weird when your girlfriend is always hornier than you.
The thing is, Connie liked having this secret life that no one else knew about, and she definitely got off on the danger of doing it in places where she knew we might get caught, like the old eraser room at Eden Hall, or in her parents' bedroom while they were out getting groceries or something. Me, I just liked being with her, and the sex thing had come as a pleasant surprise.
At first, Connie's insatiable appetite for sex had worried me, but as time passed I got used to it, and now it was one of those cute little things about her that no one else knew, albeit one that took up a lot of our spare time. I didn't think it was anything to worry about now, I mean, everybody expresses their passion in different ways, and besides, who's to say that guys have a monopoly on wanting sex all the time? Fulton and Portman liked to smoke pot, and my girlfriend liked to fuck, what's the difference?
By now we had reached the living room, and Connie hauled me over and pulled me down on top of her onto one of the couches, taking off my shirt as she made those sexy little purring noises with her tongue. "Uh, Cons, don't you think we should head downstairs? What if someone comes down?"
"We'll be fine, don't worry about it," she muttered, sucking hard on my left nipple as she undid my jeans. "God Guy, you're so hot."
I gave up trying to resist and started taking off her nightgown. Let the Bashes come down for a midnight snack and walk in on us in full swing, I was too jazzed up to care. I thought of all the guys who would give their right arm for a girl like mine, and this wasn't even one of the reasons I loved her. I read once that a man's sex drive peaks at age 19, while a woman's doesn't peak until 35. If that was the case, I only hoped I could keep up.
*Long chapter, I know, it's all this multiple POV stuff. I desperately wish I were able to better develop these stories, but there just isn't enough room. It's taken me longer than usual to post this, because I'm having a hell of a time writing these cabin chapters. There are so many things I wanted to include that I'm being forced to leave out. I planned for Fulton to have this big reveal-a-thon, but I've had to postpone that for when they get back to school. I know this is belated, but I'm feeling rather chatty today, and I'd like to take this time to defend my "shameless political plug-in" as BennyP called it, referring, I assume, to George Bush being compared to the Antichrist. I understand how this could be seen as such, and I won't deny that I am not the biggest fan of the Bush administration, but I'd like to say that I took the time to think about what the political beliefs of my Ducks would be, and it doesn't take a lot to see that they'd be mostly left-wingers. Young, poor and idealistic are three main indicators, and they satisfy all of these. The world is in a complete state of turmoil right now, and while I generally prefer to keep my Ducks removed from all that chaos, I do toss in a nugget from time to time. I don't mean to offend any fragile American sensibilities, but feel free to retaliate by accusing me of living in an igloo, or of pronouncing "about" "aboot," or anything like that.*
Charlie's POV:
The first thought that went through my head when I saw the place was: "This isn't a hunting lodge, it's a goddamned ski resort!"
Since the cabin was located in a national park, the Greyhound dropped us off at the parks and wildlife centre, where a couple of rangers were kind enough to take us up in their Jeeps. I don't know what we would have done if they hadn't, but Adam seemed all buddy-buddy with them, so maybe his family is paying them off or something.
The lodge was huge and sprawling, its back half supported by stilts since it overlooked a lake, frozen now in wintertime but still beautiful. Someone had gone to pains to ensure the rustic look; the cabin was made of logs that had been stained a deep cherry red, but it still screamed money. There was a large clear area in front of the cabin, and then the forest began, enveloping it on all sides, even where it bordered the lake. I shuddered at the thought of getting lost in there.
There was knee-deep snow all around us, piled all the way up to the cabin's windows in huge drifts, and icicles hung from the eaves. We walked up the path leading to the front door, dragging our bags behind us. All the snow had been shovelled clear, presumably by those trusty rangers (they have got to be getting kickbacks for this). We went inside, but not before I noticed what appeared to be a three-car garage jutting out of the cabin's right side.
"Fuck me, Conway, your boyfriend is loaded!" Portman exclaimed, dropping his bag and looking around in amazement. I had to agree with his assessment; this place must have cost more money than my mother could make in her lifetime. The entrance hallway led onto an enormous living room filled with leather couches and easy chairs and a gigantic fireplace at one end, which was already cracking and popping merrily. Those rangers really knew what side their bread was buttered on. The ceiling was vaulted all the way to the roof of the cabin, and a spiral staircase wound its way up to a balcony on the second floor, which I assumed had bedrooms and stuff.
Adam gestured to a hallway leading out of the living room. "Kitchen and bathroom are through there, on the left hand side. Pool's to the right..."
"You've got to be shitting me," I heard Connie mutter.
Adam just smiled and continued talking. "Bedrooms and the other bathroom are up top. There are four bedrooms--" smothered gasps from some of the Ducks, "so I'm not sure how it'll work, but I guess we can go check it out."
After a short debate, it was decided that Adam and I would stay in his room, while Julie and Connie would take one guest room, and Guy and Ken the other. The guest rooms were connected by a shared door, so I figured there might be some clandestine visits going on at night, and maybe not just between Connie and Guy. I had seen Julie eyeing Kenny with an expression I couldn't quite read all through the bus trip. The Bashes, it was determined, would lodge in Adam's parents' room, mainly because the king- sized bed in there was the only one big enough to hold them both.
After we'd dropped off our bags and looked around a bit, we adjourned to the living room, sprawling out on the couches or, in the case of Fulton and Portman, stretched out on the floor in front of the fire like a couple of basset hounds. It was hard to believe it was barely eleven in the morning; it felt like much later. Speaking of hard to believe... I cast a glance toward the Bashes. Fulton was lying with his head on Portman's stomach, and Portman was twirling his fingers absent-mindedly through Fulton's hair as he looked around in awe. From the way they were acting, you'd think they'd been together for three years instead of three weeks. They just seemed so...comfortable with each other. When Adam and I first got together, we were all hot and heavy, but also pretty awkward and uncertain, not really sure where to go next, or how far was too far, or anything like that. Well, the Bash Brothers were such atypical people, I guess it stood to reason that their relationship would be far from average, as well.
"So exactly how far are we from civilisation, Adam?" Julie asked.
"Well, there are five other cabins in this park, but there's no one in them now. The nearest town is at least an hour's drive away, but there's a little strip of stores down by the ranger station. That reminds me, someone will have to go down there today, we don't have much in the way of food--"
"Fulton and me will go," Portman said so quickly and eagerly that we all turned to look at him.
Adam grinned. "Ah, so I take it you two looked in the garage, huh?" Portman nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, we have a couple of snowmobiles, that's how we get down to the station and back in the winter."
"Just tell us what to get and we'll go pick it up," Portman said, getting to his feet.
"Yeah, right now, if you like," Fulton added.
"Hold on guys, we'll make a list," said Julie, pulling a notepad and pen out of her shoulder bag. "Does anyone know how to cook?" A few head shakes and mumbled negations gave her all the answer she needed. "So we're going to live off cereal and Kraft Dinner for two weeks?"
"I can cook a little, but it's all Chinese stuff," Kenny said. "I doubt they'd carry much of it in a little general store."
I saw Fulton elbow Portman in the ribs. "What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing," Portman replied. "Except that I can sort of cook a little."
Fulton grinned wickedly and poked him in the side. "Oh, don't be modest, honey," he said, ignoring Portman's icy glare. "Hasn't Portman told you? He wants to be a chef when he grows up."
"You are so dead," Portman snarled, and the next thing I knew they were rolling around on the ground, and Connie had to jump out of the way to avoid being squashed. Portman managed to pin Fulton to the ground, and was sitting on his chest looking very pleased with himself. "Take it back. Tell them I don't want to be a chef."
"Oh, right, I forgot! You want to be a ballet dancer now, don't you?" Fulton said mischievously, and we all laughed at the image of Portman doing Swan Lake in a leotard.
"Oooh, I'm going to kill you! Take it back or I'll spit on your face!" Portman cried, leaning over so his face was directly above Fulton's, who was squirming around, trying to get free.
"No, I've had enough of this lie!" Fulton cried melodramatically. "You have to stop trying to hide who you are! Tell them the truth; that the Dean Portman they know is a sham! The real Portman loves to cook, he's knitting a sweater for his mother, his favourite colour is pink, and he listens to Mariah Carey!"
The rest of us were practically in tears from laughing so hard and Guy called out, "It's okay, Portman, you don't have to be ashamed--"
"I'm not ashamed!" Portman bellowed, his face red with frustration.
"You don't have to lie to us anymore," I said soothingly, trying to keep a straight face.
"Yeah, Portman, they don't care, they love you anyway," Fulton grinned. "Tell them that your favourite movie is Message in a Bottle, and that whenever you see it, you hide away in the bathroom and have yourself a good cry."
"Oh, that's it," Portman cried, throwing up his arms in exasperation. In doing so, he let go of Fulton's wrists, who immediately punched his boyfriend in the stomach and took off, leaving poor Portman gasping for breath. Moments later he was on his feet, chasing after Fulton, who had taken off up the stairs.
We all listened in silent amusement to the thudding of their feet as they tore around after each other. A minute or two later, they reappeared, Portman holding Fulton in a headlock of sorts. They were both panting and grinning as Portman dragged his catch towards us. "Say it."
"Okay, okay. I apologise for my earlier comments, especially anything that insulted Portman's manhood or threatened his reputation; he does not in fact, listen to Mariah Carey."
"Thank you!" Portman cried, releasing his grip and throwing up his arms, this time in victory.
"Okay, so you guys are officially insane," Adam said calmly. "Here's a list of things we need, if you see anything else, just get it. My parents have a line of credit at the store, so they'll just charge it to them."
"Okay. See ya!" And the Bash Brothers were out the door. Moments later we heard the roar of engines, and as we looked out the window we saw two snowmobiles go tearing out of the garage and take off down the road at breakneck speed.
"You know," Connie said thoughtfully. "I thought their being gay was somehow going to change things, but it hasn't. They're exactly the same as they used to be, aren't they?"
"Yeah," Kenny agreed. "Just a little more snuggly."
"What say we take advantage of their absence and try out the pool?" Adam suggested. "If we wait till they come back, you know they'll spend the whole time dunking us."
We all agreed, and as we went upstairs to get changed, my thoughts were filled with one thing and one thing only: Adam in a Speedo. Yowza.
***
Kenny's POV:
"Kenny, no!
"Don't do it!"
I looked up in surprise, my mouth full of brownie. Fulton and Portman, who had been cozied up in front of the fire, had leapt to their feet and were running towards me.
I swallowed guiltily. "I'm sorry, were you guys saving these or something?"
We had been here at Banks' cabin for eight days now; it was hard to believe the trip was more than halfway over, it felt like we'd just got here. It had been snowing pretty much the entire time, but nobody was complaining. We played hockey on the frozen lake and waged tagteam snowball wars. Everyone took delight in the twisted snow sculptures the Bashes kept making. Today, the newest addition to "Frosty's House of Horrors" as Portman called it, had included one snowman stabbing another to death with a pair of scissors, and the decapitated head of another unfortunate snowperson. Both "creations" came complete with red food colouring in the place of blood, and the pair had seen fit to place the severed head on the front stoop, ring the bell and run away, giving poor Adam a hell of a shock when he opened the door.
With regards to our culinary concerns, all had worked out fine; Portman hadn't been exaggerating when he said he could cook. He made everything from hamburgers to scrambled eggs to pizza and baked potatoes; he had prepared every single meal we'd eaten, and it was all damn good, too. Even though he had been only playfully enraged by Fulton's teasings about his masculinity, those of us small enough to be injured in a wrestling match with him were unwilling to risk incurring his wrath, and made certain not to make jokes about it.
Charlie, Adam, Connie and Guy had gone out snowmobiling, and the rest of us were hanging around in the living room; Portman had just put a lasagne in the oven for when the others got back in an hour or two. It was so cute watching him cook; Fulton was always right beside him, trying to help out, but from what I saw he did more harm than good, though Portman didn't seem to mind.
There were brownies cooling on two of the metal racks by the sink, and they smelled so good that I'd eaten one. It had been delectable, all warm and gooey, but I immediately regretted my decision when I saw the expressions on the Bashes faces. They looked at each other in dismay.
"Anything we can do now, Fult?"
"Nothing short of inducing vomiting."
I looked at them in confusion. "Look, I'm really sorry, I just thought--"
"What's up, guys?" Julie, who had been reading in the living room, had evidently heard the commotion and had come over to see what all the fuss was about.
"Kenny ate one of our brownies," Portman said, struggling to hold back a smile.
"So? You made two whole batches."
"Julie, he had one of our special brownies. The other batch were regular ones for you guys."
"Oh. You mean..."
"He means Kenny here's got about half an hour before he gets messed with real good," Fulton finished.
"Oops," I said lamely.
Portman put his hands on his hips and looked at me angrily; I was scared for a moment until I realised he was kidding. "Do you have any idea what you've just done? Now Fult and I'll have to have one too, so you don't trip out alone."
"Yeah," Fulton said, glaring at me as he crammed an entire brownie into his mouth at once. "Damn you, Kenny Wu."
"What the hell," Julie said as she reached for the tray.
"You sure you want to do that Jules?" Portman asked. "They're pretty hard- core."
She smiled at him sweetly, and I felt my knees get watery. "I can take care of myself, thanks."
"Tell me something I don't know," Portman said admiringly, as he bit into his own chocolatey treat.
I had been sweet on Julie for some time now, but I'd never come close to working up enough courage to ask her out. You'd think that my dream would seem less impossible now that I was hanging out with her so much more, but in fact, the opposite was true. The more time I spent with her, the more I got to know her, and the more I got to know her, the more certain I was that she was the very embodiment of perfection, and that there was no way in hell she'd ever go out with me.
The only person I had told about all this was Fulton, after he'd come to my dorm to thank me for my support during the whole Adam/Charlie thing. I don't even remember how it happened, but the next thing I knew I was telling him all about my unrequited crush.
"Portman, why don't you set the timer on the oven so the lasagne doesn't burn," Fulton said. "And Julie, can you put the rest of the pot brownies away so we don't have any more accidents?"
As Portman and Julie set about their tasks, Fulton grabbed me by the arm and hauled me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. "Dude, this is your chance!" he whispered excitedly.
"Huh?"
"With Julie, man! It's perfect, you can tell her how you feel, and if it doesn't work, blame it on the brownie!"
I had to admit, the plan was very appealing to my cowardly sensibilities. "But what if she only says yes because she's high?"
"Weed doesn't work like that. Besides, she likes you, believe me." He shoved me towards the door. "Come on Kenny, you can do it!"
Once the effects of the brownie took hold, all plans for winning the heart of Julie Gaffney faded from my mind, along with all other coherent thoughts, replaced by a lot of crazy shit. My mind is still going through the events of that evening, trying to figure out how one thing led to another. The fact of the matter is that I did profess my feelings to Julie, and she seemed to reciprocate, because when the others came back, it was to find her rubbing chocolate fudge icing all over my chest and licking it off seductively, while Fulton and Portman did the same on the couch beside us. Somewhere in between all this was a snow angel contest, a really weird game of Clue, and Julie giving makeovers to the three of us so we looked like $20 hookers. Like I said, as far as the motivations behind the actions of that night go, things get pretty hazy, but I don't regret a single thing I did, and as long as Julie doesn't either, this will have to go down in history as one of the best nights I've ever had.
***
Guy's POV:
One thing not many people know about my girlfriend, Connie Moreau: she loves sex. I figure she must have inherited this trait from her parents, because with six kids, they're either extremely fertile, or they enjoy life's more carnal pleasures as much as their daughter does.
I was ten when I first asked Connie to go with me, even though I was quite unsure of what exactly this entailed. She said yes, and we had been "Connie and Guy" ever since. As far as I was concerned, there was only one girl in the world for me, and Connie was she. Though the Ducks often teased us about being an old couple, I had little fear that we were getting stale on nights like these, as she led me by the hand down the darkened staircase to the first floor of Banks' lodge.
Connie and I took it pretty slow in the beginning, I was almost twelve before we had our first kiss, but things started to pick up during the Goodwill Games, at Connie's insistence. We agreed that we would sleep together if we placed first in the tournament, and had been doing the beast with two backs a couple times a week ever since, and it had been a nightly occurrence here at the lodge.
Don't get me wrong, Connie was no pervert; she didn't have any sick fetishes or weird demands or anything. She was like that girl in the song, she "just liked getting her fuck on." And don't think I was complaining, either; I am a guy after all, it's just kind of weird when your girlfriend is always hornier than you.
The thing is, Connie liked having this secret life that no one else knew about, and she definitely got off on the danger of doing it in places where she knew we might get caught, like the old eraser room at Eden Hall, or in her parents' bedroom while they were out getting groceries or something. Me, I just liked being with her, and the sex thing had come as a pleasant surprise.
At first, Connie's insatiable appetite for sex had worried me, but as time passed I got used to it, and now it was one of those cute little things about her that no one else knew, albeit one that took up a lot of our spare time. I didn't think it was anything to worry about now, I mean, everybody expresses their passion in different ways, and besides, who's to say that guys have a monopoly on wanting sex all the time? Fulton and Portman liked to smoke pot, and my girlfriend liked to fuck, what's the difference?
By now we had reached the living room, and Connie hauled me over and pulled me down on top of her onto one of the couches, taking off my shirt as she made those sexy little purring noises with her tongue. "Uh, Cons, don't you think we should head downstairs? What if someone comes down?"
"We'll be fine, don't worry about it," she muttered, sucking hard on my left nipple as she undid my jeans. "God Guy, you're so hot."
I gave up trying to resist and started taking off her nightgown. Let the Bashes come down for a midnight snack and walk in on us in full swing, I was too jazzed up to care. I thought of all the guys who would give their right arm for a girl like mine, and this wasn't even one of the reasons I loved her. I read once that a man's sex drive peaks at age 19, while a woman's doesn't peak until 35. If that was the case, I only hoped I could keep up.
*Long chapter, I know, it's all this multiple POV stuff. I desperately wish I were able to better develop these stories, but there just isn't enough room. It's taken me longer than usual to post this, because I'm having a hell of a time writing these cabin chapters. There are so many things I wanted to include that I'm being forced to leave out. I planned for Fulton to have this big reveal-a-thon, but I've had to postpone that for when they get back to school. I know this is belated, but I'm feeling rather chatty today, and I'd like to take this time to defend my "shameless political plug-in" as BennyP called it, referring, I assume, to George Bush being compared to the Antichrist. I understand how this could be seen as such, and I won't deny that I am not the biggest fan of the Bush administration, but I'd like to say that I took the time to think about what the political beliefs of my Ducks would be, and it doesn't take a lot to see that they'd be mostly left-wingers. Young, poor and idealistic are three main indicators, and they satisfy all of these. The world is in a complete state of turmoil right now, and while I generally prefer to keep my Ducks removed from all that chaos, I do toss in a nugget from time to time. I don't mean to offend any fragile American sensibilities, but feel free to retaliate by accusing me of living in an igloo, or of pronouncing "about" "aboot," or anything like that.*