Disclaimer:
Mine are the OC's
the situations as well
but all things you recognize
in Diane Duane's head dwell.

Chapter 6: Secrets

All the difficulties Tom and Carl had with mind-touching seemed to crumble into dust. When Tom woke up that Saturday morning he was shocked by the thoughts already buzzing through his head. It took him a moment to realize that they were Carl's. Then he tried to sit up and felt a momentary panic flare up when he had minor problems doing so.

What is it? What's wrong, what happened? demanded Carl—loudly.

Tom winced. That was giving him a headache. Disoriented. Could you try to back off a little bit? Hide your thoughts? Because my mind is only used to having one person in it. He tried to keep his mind touch gentle to see if he could, and he didn't want his friend to hurt himself.

Sorry, Carl said, muting his thoughts some. It helped. Didn't think I was that bad.

It's okay. That's better. Um, Carl?

Yeah?

You might want to stay away from the fireworks today.

Tom caught his friend's amusement. I figured that one out on my own. Thanks though.

No problem. I'm gonna try to see if I can pull out of your mind entirely. Tell me afterwards if it works?

Sure thing.

Tom breathed in and out, quieting the portion of his mind that he could. Then he tried to sift his own thoughts from Carl's. It worked; after a few tense seconds he could tell that his mind's only resident was himself. He breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned. Should it really take that much effort to keep his thoughts from his partner's?

His control slipped and he was immediately hit with a barrage of Carl's thoughts and emotions. He felt his partner recoil from the shock; then Carl had the good sense to pull back a little bit and give them both a little room to breathe.

Yeah, it worked, said Carl dryly. Now all we have to do is figure out how to maintain it. Especially while you sleep.

Tom smiled a bit. When he actually remembered his dreams, they were quite strange. What'd I dream about?

Um. For some reason Carl was reluctant to answer. I'd rather not discuss it.

Oh come on. That's not fair. I almost never remember my...oh. Wait a second. Tom had an inkling of a hunch as to what he must have dreamt about for Carl to not want to answer him. He felt a tendril of embarrassment and horror begin to grow in the pit of his stomach. Oh no. Please don't tell me...oh no. His face flushed; he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his beet red face in them. He was afraid to even whisper the question that had to be asked. How bad?

Carl blushed a bit too. Not too bad. I gave you as much privacy as I could when I saw...well, when I figured out what kind of dream...

Thank you. Oh God, Carl, I'm so sorry.

It's fine, Carl said with forced cheerfulness. You're a teenager. We all get those kinds of dreams. Well, maybe not exactly those kinds...you're gay, after all...

His suspicions confirmed, Tom's cheeks and ears burned even more. He knew he should just let the conversation die, change the subject, but he found himself consumed by a morbid curiosity. You sure it wasn't that bad?

Carl paused, and Tom had a sinking feeling that he was trying to figure out how to word his answer diplomatically.

Just tell me, Carl. It was my dream. I deserve to know what mental trauma my subconscious has inflicted upon you. I might even remember it eventually.

The sophomore was still reluctant to share, but the last point spurred him on. It really wasn't that bad. Actually it was pretty tame. There was a lot of black mist. If it hadn't been a dream about...you know...sex...I would've called it artistic. But I really don't want to keep talking about it, how am I going to explain to my mom why I'm blushing so much if she comes to my room?

Okay...um...yeah. Well, anyway, sorry.

No problem.

Um...if you catch me at it again, if you can't block me out entirely...wake me up?

Sure thing. Same for me?

Sure.

They both remained in silence for a time, pulling away from each other's thoughts. Tom was puzzled. If the dream wasn't that bad, why was Carl so embarrassed by it? Was it because it had to do with two men, or because Tom and Carl were good friends? Maybe it was a bit of both. Probably no more than that, he assured himself.

He jumped when he heard his mother's voice from downstairs. "Tom! Breakfast's ready!"

Tom looked down and realized he had to change into a different pair of pajama pants. "Just a minute!" he replied, doing so, then going downstairs to eat.

Saturday morning breakfast in the Swale household was a casual affair. Eggs, hash browns, and pancakes usually made an appearance, as well as leftovers from past dinners. Tom's mother just so happened to be an excellent chef, and he and his dad enjoyed telling her so.

After washing the dishes as tradition dictated, Tom went back upstairs to try to get some work done. Mr. Kolibri had been the only teacher to assign him any real homework, so he pulled out his physics textbook, notebook, and pencil to complete the assigned problems.

But it was boring, tedious work. Letting out a sigh of annoyance—he already knew how to apply the kinematics equations to the textbook situations, thank you very much—he snapped the book closed and decided not to waste the beautiful day. He would go to the park and study the Speech. Maybe he could even figure out a spell to get Grogan to leave him alone.

Ten minutes later he was walking out the door, Manual in hand. It was warm out, so he walked slowly, savoring the feel of sunshine on his face and still-sore back. He stretched his arms and winced, but he could tell the bruises were much better than they would've been.

Carl, man, thanks for the healing yesterday. I owe you one. It was a relief to drop the rigid shield he had around his thoughts, if only a little bit.

Tom could feel Carl smile in surprise. No problem. You'd have done the same for me. Why're you thanking me now?

Going to the park and my shoulders don't hurt. I'll be working on the Speech.

Oh, okay. Cool.

Tom caught himself wishing Carl would come with him to the park. Then he blushed, remembering the morning and realizing that they could probably both use a little space.

Tom? Something wrong?

Apparently Carl had caught a little of that. No, everything's fine. Talk to you later, okay?

Sure. Uh...Tom?

Hm?

After a pause, Carl said, Stay safe.

Then the sophomore pulled back, giving his partner his mind back. Tom couldn't for the life of him figure out why the last sentiment had him smiling for a good few minutes.

Apparently many people had had the same idea as the fourteen-year-old. The park was crowded; children ran around and flung stale breadcrumbs for the pigeons while adults kept a watchful eye on them. Tom felt a pang of jealousy when he passed a young couple sharing a chaste kiss, but he was soon distracted by the feeling of a large, somewhat fluffy dog pressing against his leg.

He grinned. Tom loved dogs. This one was black and white, with intelligent brown eyes and a long, tapered muzzle. A sheepdog. A very friendly sheepdog, by the looks of it; its tail wagged furiously, sending the silky fur into fuzzy disarray.

Tom knew that it was safest to ask permission before touching a strange dog, but this one had walked right up to him and was obviously not dangerous, at least at the moment. So he ruffled its ears, which got a more enthusiastic tail-wag. "Hey, buddy," he said, delighted. Then he asked in the Speech, "Hi, where're your people? What's your name? You're not lost, are you?"

"A talking human!" the dog yapped, happy with her—for the presence was distinctly female—discovery. "Hi! Hi! Tilly. You? Hi! Play with me?"

The boy couldn't help but laugh at the dog's enthusiasm. "I'm Tom. Hi! If you take me to your people I can ask if I can play with you."

Just then another young boy's voice called out, "Tilly! Tilly, where'd you go? Here, girl!"

Like an arrow she was off, sprinting and barking madly, tail and ears flying back in the air. "Master! Hi! I'm here. Can Tom play with us? Please? He's nice! Hi, Master!"

Tom laughed and followed her as quickly as he dared. Sometimes he wished he could be as carefree as the dog was. Then again, it might get lonely not being able to talk to most humans, except in the crudest and basic ways...

Lost in thought, he nearly walked into the boy around whom Tilly was prancing. He started and stumbled back a step. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just trying to find out who the dog...belonged...are you alright?" The other boy had jumped back, eyes wide, and nearly fallen over. His chest was heaving up and down. In short, he looked absolutely terrified. "I'm sorry, oh, I'm so sorry...are you hurt? What's wrong!"

Now the boy's breathing seemed to slow, and he quickly averted his eyes, staring at his dog. She pressed against his leg comfortingly and let his hand rest on her head while she whined in sympathy, staring at Tom reproachfully. He finally gulped down a few more breaths and muttered, "I'm f-f-fine. Sorry. You just sc-scared me is all."

Tom gave him a strange look. "You sure? I didn't run into you or anything? I've done that before without noticing, though usually only when I was reading."

The other boy gave a short, sharp shake of his head by way of answering, still looking at his dog. He seemed to not want to make eye contact.

That's weird, Tom thought, though kept that sentiment to himself. Instead he smiled warmly and commented, "That's a wonderful dog you've got there. She came right up to me and asked me to play. Wish I had a dog."

He almost missed it, but it seemed like the boy shot him a glance for a moment from behind his bangs. Those eyes, when they weren't hidden by raven black hair that was just a little too long, were a bright, piercing blue. A slow, proud, unaffected grin spread itself across his face. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Tilly's the best. She's my best friend. And she's all mine. Well, my mom and dad technically bought her, but she likes me best." He stroked her silky ears lovingly, and her tail began to beat a steady tattoo on his leg.

"She's a gorgeous dog," Tom said honestly, deciding that this kid his age, while odd, wasn't half bad.

He spoke a little louder, the pride in his voice unmistakable. "Thanks. I take care of her. Actually, the only thing I don't do is buy her food." He stopped talking for a little while, content to pet Tilly's head, then shyly offered, "My name's Josh."

"I'm Tom. Nice to meet you."

"You too...what's that book you have?"

Tom had nearly forgotten about the manual he was carrying. His mind raced. He seemed to recall reading that the manual had a way to disguise itself; so he took a gamble and handed it over with a smile. "See for yourself."

The other boy took it and flipped it open. Then he froze. Slowly he formed the words. "So You Want To Be a Wizard..." He frowned. "Surely this is some sort of a joke." Tom shrugged noncommittally. "Funny, I remember something like this...two years ago? I actually thought I was doing magic, too. Or 'wizardry', as I called it." He smiled sadly, closed the book, and handed it back over to Tom.

The freshman was doing his best to keep an even expression. He was getting a feeling as to what might have happened. Was Josh saying that he had forgotten wizardry entirely, that it was just a part of his childhood? But what could make him do that? Outwardly he gave a wry grin. "Doesn't every kid dream of magic? I still do, I know that. Do you read a lot?"

Josh nodded eagerly, looking Tom in the eyes for the first time since he'd almost been trampled. The blonde was stunned by how bright and blue they were. "Love to. I have tons of books. Not many friends, but Tilly and my books are enough for me. And my family, of course."

Tom grinned. "I knew I liked you. We'll have to swap favorite titles sometime."

"Sure! You can come over to my house. Don't know when, but maybe soon. Let me introduce you to my mom!" Josh was beaming, delighted to have found a kindred spirit—and one who liked his beloved dog, no less. Tilly was wagging her tail and reveling in her master's good humor.

"Okay, why not?"

"And then when you come over you can meet my brother. You'll like him. It was his idea for me to get Tilly, you know, after...well...after." Josh faltered and frowned, then took a deep breath and put a smile back on his face. This one, however, looked a little strained.

Wisely Tom decided not to pry. It wouldn't do to drive his newest friend away. At the very least, Tilly would probably maul him, and he really didn't want to see the beautiful and friendly dog turn protectively vicious.

"Hello, Josh, and Tilly of course...and who's this?" A kind-looking woman with dark brown hair and eyes as bright as the boy's came bustling over, beaming at the two boys and the dog. Tilly wagged her tail furiously, but didn't leave her favorite person's side.

"Mom! Hi, this is Tom. Tilly kind of ran into him, and then he almost ran into me, and guess what? He likes to read as much as I do!" The black-haired boy's enthusiasm was contagious.

"Manners, Joshua. We haven't been properly introduced," she chided gently.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Tom said, nodding his head respectfully. "My fault, I'm afraid—all we talked about was Tilly and books. I'm Tom Swale, pleasure to meet you."

The woman smiled and extended a hand, taking Tom's in a surprisingly strong grip. "My my, such a polite young man! The pleasure is mine. My name's Susan Grogan."

Well, this is a surprise. I don't do any work on it for months, and then suddenly three chapters demand to be written in two days. Well, hope you enjoyed them! And my apologies for the cliff-hanger, but if I didn't end it there the chapter wouldn't break naturally. I think I'm including at least two natural chapters in each one as it is.