Singletrack Mind image



My brain has a mind of its own! Even when I’m trying to concentrate on something, it wanders off to think about something else entirely, which is usually about sex.  Okay, pretty much always sex!  Mostly about what I’d do with other boys from school, assuming I ever got the chance, which seems very unlikely at this point.  Thing is, I can’t control it; maybe THAT mind has a mind of its own, too! Freaky! Anyway, the one I use was currently engaged in a fantasy about me and the Logan twins soaping up in the shower after gym, three slippery bodies together, hands roaming, mouths busy…

This is why I was face-planted there in the mud, in a wet forest, with my mountain bike on top of me, and its back wheel spinning slowly.  Crap. This was gonna hurt later. Totally worth it, though! I mean, those Logans are way hot with their cute little matching butts and those tan lines… and… mud was seeping into my shirt.  I got up, checked the bike and myself for serious damage, then clipped in and started back up the track.

That bike trail comes out into a clearing, near the top of the hill, and from there I could look down on my dad’s place: the house and barn, the three big sheds out behind where the equipment for his landscaping business lived.  I’ve spent a lot of time up on that hill over the past year and a half, ever since I moved back east to live with Dad.  It was a great place for thinking or just zoning out with my iPod.  Or, this goes without sayin’, daydreaming about boys!

I checked the time and headed back down, taking the left fork after the big rock this time. I hadn’t done any work on this section after the washout from all the rain we’d had this year, so I took it easy over the trickier bits. These were my private bike trails, built partly on old logging roads from back when my grandfather was alive. My dad had sold off more than half of the original land, but he still owned over 200 acres, which I had turned into my personal playground. Dad helped at first, even bringing the mini excavator to make several awesome jumps.  But this was back when he was playing at being the attentive parent, and that faded a couple of months after I moved here permanently. I don’t mind being on my own most of the time; I prefer it, actually. Dad’s cool too, really; he does his thing, and I do mine. Our lives intersect a couple of times a day, and that’s about it, unless I’m working weekends on a landscaping job with the crew. Then, I’m just another employee, and the guys all treat me like one, not the boss’s fifteen-year-old son.

Dad’s truck and the trailer with the backhoe were parked in front of the sheds as I rolled into the yard. Plus a couple of other pickups that I recognized as belonging to guys that worked for him. I could hear them talking and laughing around the other side of the house on the deck by the pool, unwinding after work. Sometimes the ‘unwinding’ wound up well after midnight. No idea how they managed to be back on the job site and working at seven in the morning the next day. I rode over to the middle shed, where there was a hose and stuff to wash the mud off the bike. As I was putting the hose away, my cellphone rang. I glanced at the caller ID, even though I knew perfectly well who it was. Only my parents have the number, and one of ’em never calls.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Chris. I need you to work a couple of hours after school tomorrow. Larry’s got to take off early.”

Always right down to business.  No ‘how was your day?’ or ‘Are you busy tomorrow?’

“Uh, okay, I guess. Where? I’ll have my bike at school.”

“At the new rec center, parking lot side.”  Easy. That was right beside the school. It had been under construction since I moved here, although the outdoor basketball courts and skateboard park were already usable, even though we weren’t supposed to. “I’m going to start the grill in half an hour, so come by the house around 6:30 and I’ll fill you in. I hope you’re hungry; I’ve got a ton of ribs here.”

That’s one thing about Dad: he knows how to cook, and he loves to entertain!  You’d think I’d be gaining weight from eating so much good food, but I never do, no matter how much I eat. That’s about the only good thing I got from Mom’s side, I think.

My grandparents, on my dad’s side, spent the winters travelling around the southern US in a big motorhome RV. It must’ve cost a fortune in gas because it’s one of those mobile homes that looked as big as a Greyhound bus, with an extension that slides out on the side. Inside, it seems to have more space than some apartments. Anyway, since Dad had at least one fulltime girlfriend last year, probably more, although they all looked interchangeable to me, he strongly suggested that the main house might be too ‘small’ for the both of us, and I should move into the RV, which he set up on blocks in a nice shady area behind the sheds, well away from Party Central. I tried real hard to sound disappointed, trying not to drool or jump up and down and wave my arms too much! My own space! At last!! And it was like a palace in there, too!

I wheeled around to my private palace, parked the bike beside my ‘beater’ bike, the one I ride to school, grabbed the key from its hiding place, took off my muddy shoes and went inside. After over a year of living here, it doesn’t seem at all odd that my ‘apartment’ has a steering wheel! I stripped off my shirt and shorts, carefully avoiding dropping any dirt on the rug. I had to clean the RV myself; that was part of the deal. A quick shower (with no extra activity!) and I settled in front of the laptop. Dad has a Wi-Fi repeater in the main shed, so I get decent connection speed in the RV.

There were a couple of emails from the guys in my old school out west that I still keep in touch with. Someday I’ll go back and visit. As long as I don’t have to stay at Mom’s house! Ricky was definitely showing signs of being gay just before I moved, I thought, although this was probably wishful thinking on my part. I’d certainly try to find out, if I ever went back. He had the most lickable thighs! Not that I’d ever licked anybody’s thighs before! But it seemed like something I’d enjoy, judging from my intensive research on certain special websites. And the curve where his waist turned into his sweet little butt, I would love to nuzzle back there, run my hands over the superfine hairs on his legs… and… and he’d probably haul off and pound me into the ground!

Now, I know I’m not the only gay fifteen-year-old on the planet. I’ve spent enough time on the internet researching any and all aspects of gay sex to know that! I’m an expert now at using advanced Google search. I’ve spent many hours reading the stories. Yet when I look around my school, not one single boy triggers the gaydar we’re supposedly blessed with! I mean, statistically, there ought to be at least a dozen of ’em, right there bumping into me in the hallway every day! Of course, I’m careful not to give out even a HINT of an indication that I’m gay, so why would they? I guess we’re all doomed to be stuck in the closet forever! Or at least until we get to college.

I walked over to the house and around to where Dad had started cooking the ribs. A wonderful aroma led me by the nose and my stomach realized that it hadn’t been fed since after school! Three guys from the work crew were comfortably installed near the beer cooler, in a heated discussion either about politics or baseball. I waved to them and detoured into the kitchen to grab a cola from the fridge, then wandered over to where Dad was doing something that caused clouds of smoke to come off of the ribs.

“What do I need to bring tomorrow?” I asked. I would put a duffle bag with my work clothes and whatever else into his pickup tonight, since he left the house before I did in the morning.

Dad was peering into the part of the grill where the fire goes. “You’ll be sorting stone for a retaining wall, so your regular clothes are fine.”

Oh, good! Sorting stone was pretty much my favourite job! For one thing, it meant I’d be up on a backhoe and not, say, hauling 80 pound bags of cement, or down on my knees laying turf. You can’t imagine how heavy grass is until you’ve spent a day shifting rolls of turf!

“Better put your work boots in the truck, and gloves and hardhat too, just in case.”  Heh! Just in case an inspector came around, is what he meant; working in town means at least pretending to follow the rules.

I watched as he carefully arranged the coals and added some sort of wood chips, then closed the cover again. Dad was a purist when it came to barbecuing. No gas, no charcoal; he started with wood and let it burn down to coals. I can attest that it was definitely worth the extra trouble!

Andy came over with a beer for Dad and the three of us chatted for a while, watching the smoke make intricate patterns as it escaped from the vents into the cool evening air. Two of the guys’ girlfriends, one of ’em, Janice, I knew, the other one I didn’t, showed up and immediately got put to work bringing stuff out from the kitchen. We all sat down to eat, Janice next to me, so I was stuck giving the minimum acceptable responses to the usual questions, which, of course, included probing into why didn’t I have a girlfriend yet, a nice boy like me. I escaped by claiming that I had homework to do, which was true, and headed back to the RV. Before I forgot, I dug out the boots and stuff for tomorrow, and put them into Dad’s truck.

Homework was a breeze. It was almost the end of the school year, so mostly ‘review’ and stuff. And I knew I’d have no problems with the coming exams anyway. Actually, I was more concerned with maintaining my carefully calibrated status as an only-somewhat-above-average student. At my last school, I discovered what happens to nerdy kids who always get 100 percent on every test, so I purposely flubbed a couple of questions each time. From the cryptic comments, I could tell that at least one of my teachers was suspicious.

I checked my email again, but there was nothing new. And I don’t have a Facebook page anymore, not since that little bullying problem two years ago. So I opened up my bookmarks and started my evening rounds. I usually check Nifty first, mainly out of habit. Nothing new that caught my interest there, so I looked in on IOMFATS, which I’d only recently discovered, read a couple of short stories, and then checked the library and forums at the Shack Out Back. One of these days, I’ll get up the nerve to post something there! But not yet. I scanned the library forum comments for last week’s “Billy Chase” in case one had been added. The next chapter would be up tomorrow night, and I could hardly wait! I soooo wish that I could have gone to his school. Cute boys seemed to be everywhere! And I wouldn’t have minded spending the afternoon with Jimmy or Bobby, either, especially Bobby.

Just thinking about Bobby got me hard, so it was now time to go to my ‘special website’ and do my other ‘homework’. Over the last year, I spent many hours closely observing every little detail of what those boys were doing with each other. I think I’ve clicked on all the photos and watched every video on the site! If I ever got to have sex, I wanted to know what to do, and how to do it! I felt so certain that it would be awesome, from the first minute we got naked! That is, if I ever found someone to get naked with! Sigh.

I scrolled down to the thumbnail of the boy that currently played the part of “Bobby” in my mind’s eye. Yep, still there. He was being fucked by a blond cutie that looked about 16 in the picture. I imagined myself in that photo, alternately as Bobby or the blond, I would try anything! Only I hadn’t yet gone beyond just fingers a little ways up my ass. Mmmmff. By now I was using long hard strokes on my cock, while rubbing the area around my asshole, that feeling taking over my entire body from my toes on up. Speeding up, I came hard, with jets of cum exploding up over my chest.

I slumped down in the chair, breathing fast as the wonderful feeling subsided. I wondered if two boys doing that together would be twice as good as doing it by myself. Someday, I was going to find out! Some day.

After some more ‘research’ and rest intervals, taking a shower and getting some sleep seemed like a good idea. I idly wondered how many gallons of cum I’d produced while sitting in that chair! Gross! The shower has one of those handheld shower head thingies on a hose, and it hadn’t taken long for me to discover how useful it was for jerking off. Not tonight, though. But, it felt soooo good, leaning back with the warm water tickling my balls… Maybe just one more time…

The next morning I was half awake when Dad left. He made plenty of noise loading and unloading machines and switching buckets and whatever else he was doing at some ungodly hour. I don’t know why contractors have to start so early! Once school was out, I’d have to get up at the crack of dawn, too. Ugh. I dozed off until the alarm clock insisted I get up and get ready for school.

After breakfast, I grabbed my stuff, locked the door and took the beater bike. It was a decent bike, actually, I’d just grunged it up on purpose so that nobody would steal it if there was a nicer bike in the rack. A little duct tape on the frame, a little primer paint sprayed over the logos. I still used my Kryptonite lock, though! It was a five mile walk home from the high school, and our place wasn’t on any school bus route.

At school I locked the bike in the usual spot, passed the usual groups as I navigated the usual route to my locker. A few guys said hi as I passed, and a couple of girls, but mostly I might as well have been invisible, which was fine with me. The less I stood out, the better. At my old school, anyone who wasn’t part of the ‘in’ crowd, the jocks and the cool kids, were constantly harassed, and more than a few were outright bullied until they switched schools. I hadn’t seen that happening so much here at this school, but I thought it prudent to keep a very low profile anyway. Classes were the typical end-of-year boring, more review, more staring out the window. At lunchtime I ate my sandwich outside, and I could see Dad’s crew working way over on the far side of the playing fields, near the new recreation center. I wondered if I’d be doing that in another few years, or if I’d be doing something totally different. Dad never talked about things like whether he expected me to take over his business eventually. Right now, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Pro mountain bike racer, maybe! Heh.

Finally, the bell rang at the end of my last class. Mr. Philips nearly beat us out of the classroom! Hehe, I guess teachers get bored too! Kinda weird to think that they have lives outside of school, too. Wives and girlfriends and stuff. Teachers having sex! Ewww!! I banished that thought, got my backpack from my locker and made my way through the hallways and out to the bike rack. I could get to the rec center by riding along the side of the soccer field, past the bleachers next to the baseball diamond, then hopping the fence. The soccer teams were coming out for practice as I rode by. I slowed down a little to better appreciate the motion of those luscious butt muscles moving under the shiny shorts as they ran onto the field. Mmmmm.

As I got to the fence, Danny, one of Dad’s crew, who was performing the important ritual of leaning on his shovel and giving advice, noticed me and gave the thumbs up sign. I waved him over, tossed my backpack over the fence, then climbed up, reached down for my bike, humped it over to Dan, climbed the rest of the way and jumped down on the other side.

“Hey Chris, you working this afternoon?”

“Yep. Dad said that Larry had to take off early.”

“Oh, right. Actually, he left already. He’s gotta drive his mom to Florida ’cause she refuses to go on an airplane or take the train. And her sister’s in the hospital. So Larry’s going to drive her down.”

I wondered if that meant I’d be working again tomorrow. Not that it made much difference; I had nothing else I had to do, and I could always use the money. I walked over to where Dad was adjusting the laser level for the next section of retaining wall. They had already finished the part that ran along the sidewalk, and he was now setting up for the longer section that went all the way to the parking lot in the back. I waved when he looked up; he smiled back.

“Hi, Dad. Need the keys to the truck.”  He tossed them over. “Will you want me to work tomorrow afternoon?”

“Oh. Yeah. If you could, that would be good. Larry won’t be back until Monday. And they couldn’t deliver all the stone today, so yeah, if you can come tomorrow…”

“Sure, no prob.” It wasn’t as though I had a big Thursday night date to get ready for or anything. Snort. As I made my way over to the truck, I noticed that it was the new compact backhoe sitting next to the piles of stones near the fence. Yes! Ever since Dad let me try it the first time, I hated when I had to work with the old one. The new controls were so smooth it was like having an extension of your own arm. A very powerful extension! But Larry preferred it too, so I usually got stuck with the jerky old tractor. I was going to enjoy this.

I lifted my bike into the back of Dad’s truck, added my backpack, then extracted my work bag from the pile of plans, papers, tools, coffee cups and other junk that lived behind the front seat of Dad’s truck, put on the work boots, grabbed the other stuff and headed over to get started. I knew what to do; I’d done it a dozen times before, and I was getting good at it, too. Dad had truckloads of random sized stones brought to the site and dumped there. My job would be to sort the stones into piles, partly by size but also by shape. And I knew from watching Dad closely as he worked which stones could be split to make a flat surface, and which would wind up being used inside the wall.

The unsorted rock had been dumped a little too far for this backhoe’s reach, so I climbed up into the driver’s seat, stowed the hardhat behind it, and started the engine. These new mid-sized tractors were nothing like the old standard models. Just as powerful, with a turbocharged diesel engine and computer-controlled transmission, these babies have cushy seats, cruise control and even a cup holder! And the best part was knowing that I knew how to operate it, and that the guys had confidence in me operating it around them. And it felt great. Here, one of the crew, I felt the self-confidence I couldn’t quite manage in the world outside.

I raised the stabilizer arms and the loader bucket, checked all around, moved forward twenty feet or so then backed up next to the pile with the annoying beeper going. Dropped the bucket, lowered the stabilizers, set the RPMs then moved to the rear-facing seat, where the backhoe controls are, and started sorting rocks. It didn’t take long to get the old rhythm back, working the two joysticks which controlled every motion of the arm and bucket. Pushing the pile here, shifting and selecting a stone there, turning it over then moving it to the proper pile, and then back for the next one. I was completely focused on what I was doing.

After an hour or so, I realized that Dan was standing next to the tractor, waving a can of Coke. I reached back and shut the throttle down to idle speed.

“Take a break. Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Thanks!” I shut off the engine and jumped down to stretch my legs. I took the cold can and pulled the tab. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed some of the guys from the soccer team were gathered on the school side of the fence. One of them was pointing towards me and saying something to his friend beside him. A couple of the others turned to look in my direction, then at each other, then turned away as the coach called them back to the practice. Hmm, I wonder what that was about. Dan and I chatted about the chances of the Red Sox winning this year, or rather, Dan chatted and I listened, nodding and going “uh-huh” occasionally. I really didn’t know much about pro sports.

Back on the tractor, I carried on working for another hour, finishing up just as the rest of the crew were packing up for the day. Dad came over and asked me to move the remaining pile of dirt and rock bits over next to the fence. I moved to the tractor seat, backed up a bit, lowered the loader bucket to be flat at ground level and ran forward, scooping up the pile while raising the bucket again. As I approached the fence, I noticed a couple of the soccer players were now perched on the top level of the bleachers, watching us work. Funny how construction sites always draw onlookers! I dumped the load and rocked the bucket hard against the end stop to knock out all the dirt. Besides, it makes a satisfying ‘kerbang’ noise. Gotta impress the crowd! I glanced up, and one of the soccer players, pretty sure his name is Dave, gave me a little wave of recognition. I automatically waved back, being in work crew mode, and not Captain Invisible like I was at school.

Dad, or someone, had hooked the trailer to his pickup truck, and I brought the tractor over to it and up the ramps, dropped the bucket and set the transport lock on the backhoe. I had to crawl underneath to loop the tie-down chains around the axles, ratcheting them tight. As I jumped down, I noticed that Dave was still up on the bleachers, by himself now, still watching. Huh, either he was a diehard construction watcher, or maybe just waiting for his lift. Some other person must’ve taken over my body because I waved as I got into the passenger seat, and he waved back as we pulled out onto the street and headed for home.

On the drive home Dad talked about the various jobs he had lined up for the summer. As a general contractor he had work all year round, but since he was mostly into landscaping he crammed as many jobs as possible into the summer months.

“I’ll have to add a few extra part-time workers this year, so if you know anyone at school who might be good…”

“Uh, not offhand, but I’ll ask around.” Sure, Dad. I’ll check with my posse. My buds. My close circle of friends. Ha! As if.

We turned onto our driveway and passed the house that was rented to Dad’s oldest employee. In fact, Theo had worked for my grandfather before that. He and his wife, not to mention the three big german shepherds, kept an eye on things while Dad was off working. Our place was set pretty far back from the road, surrounded by acres of what looked like manicured lawn, which I guess it actually is, but it would get cut into strips, rolled up and sold to whoever needed an instant lawn this summer.

Leaving my work stuff in the truck, I unloaded the bike and put it away, then headed inside to take a shower. Stripping off my dusty clothes, I reflected on various soccer players I’d noticed at school, and their relative hotness. There certainly was something about the nylon shorts and those socks. As I pulled down my boxer-briefs I wondered what it was like to wear a jockstrap. I considered the possibilities of having one’s backside exposed to the air. I imagined myself in the locker room, helping to undress, an as of yet, unidentified player, removing his shorts, running my fingers up under the straps, around behind to where they ran snug under the curve of the bubble butt, then up front where the perfect cock would be straining to be free…

Oh, man. I was rock hard now. I quickly got the shower going and jacked-off, thinking about soccer players shooting big gobs of cum against the shower stall door. Whew! I had to catch my breath. Another good one. I hosed down the door and finished my shower, still a little weak in the knees. I put on a clean pair of shorts and a tee shirt, and headed for the main house, where Dad was grilling again, as he did pretty much every night that it wasn’t pouring rain or snowing. It was just me and Dad tonight, and the meal was over pretty quickly, as he had to get over to the next town to meet with a client. I cleared away the dishes and took them inside to the dishwasher. It looked and smelled like a thunderstorm was on the way, so I secured everything out on the patio and headed over to the RV.

Homework done, email done, I looked to see if today’s chapter of “Billy Chase” had been posted. Yes!! I always hesitated to click on the link because then there would be no more anticipation, y’know? But it was at a critical point, almost at the end of a diary, and I was dying to know what happened next! So I clicked, and read it – devoured it! – quickly. Oh, Billy. Billy, Billy, Billy!! What are you doing??! Just TELL him, for God’s sake! Aaarrrgh!  Okay, so I get a little emotional, but hey, they all seem like real people to me. I would give anything to trade my world for Billy’s. I’d be perfectly happy with Lee, I’m sure of it. Or Trace. Or any of ’em!

I thought about what I might do to Lee. And then I thought about Lee in a soccer uniform, but somehow his shorts were a little too small. I lifted the jersey over his head and tossed it aside, kissing his neck, along the shoulder and down his smooth chest, nuzzling his left nipple, flicking it with my tongue, and then gently sucking it in, before moving to the right nipple. Then down, down past his navel, alternately licking and kissing until I got to the waistband of those snug shorts. Lee was hard, making the already tight shorts even tighter. I traced the outline of his cock with my fingers. Oddly, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath in my imagination. I licked the wet spot, making it even wetter as Lee moaned. I pushed him gently down on the bed – my bed – and worked those shorts down his legs, as my own real-life shorts were discarded as well. Eyes closed, on my bed, I slid my hand up my leg – Lee’s leg! – gently cupping and caressing my balls – Lee’s balls! – as my cock strained for attention. I couldn’t last any longer, and grabbed my cock in the ol’ familiar grip, pumping hard for the few seconds it took to come to a full-body orgasm.

Whew! Again.

Thursday morning, and back to school. It’s like being in a time warp, school drags more slowly the closer it gets to the last day. At my locker, I heard an unfamiliar voice call my name. Scanning the groups in the hallway I spotted Dave with some of his friends, all certified members of the cool kids. He looked like he was going to come over, but then just raised his hand and smiled as the group moved away. A couple of the others looked back to see who Dave had blessed with his attention.  I was too stunned by my very existence having been acknowledged to even respond! The bell rang, snapping me out of it, and I gathered my books and headed for my first class.

The morning actually passed pretty quickly, since I spent a lot of it pondering the significance of this new development. I had never been singled out for anything but being put down before. Or maybe Dave and his friends were looking for a new loser to kick around. Or perhaps he thought I was someone else. Or maybe he wanted free landscaping. I was still speculating about this at lunchtime, heading outside to eat, as usual, since the weather continued to be nice. The warm sun felt good after such a crappy, cold and wet spring this year. As I finished my sandwich a shadow fell across the grass in front of me. I looked up and there was Dave. I automatically scanned around to see if his friends were hanging back somewhere, but he seemed to be alone.

“Umm, hi. It’s Chris, right?”

I nodded mutely. I think my mouth was hanging open. Possibly drool coming out.

“Dave. Dave Owens. Mind if I…?” he gestured at space on the bench beside me.

“Uh sure. I mean, no! I mean, yes, I don’t mind!” Jeez, what a dork. Dave dropped his backpack, sat down and rooted around in it, coming up with an apple. He leaned back, flashed me a brilliant smile, looked at the apple, and then pointed over across the playing field where Dad and his guys were working.

“I saw you on that backhoe yesterday.”

I looked across the field, as though some other backhoes might have suddenly appeared. “Uh, yeah, that was me.”

“How’d you get an awesome summer job like that? Man, that’d be so cool. I wish I could get a job like that.”

“It’s my dad’s company.” Apparently I’d lost the ability to string two sentences together. But I was distracted by the depth of his clear, sparkling, intense blue eyes, and how his light blond hair swept down across his forehead and back to mostly cover his ears.

“Oh, wow. That’s so cool. You probably get to use all kinds of stuff! Is it hard to work a backhoe? It looked so easy the way you were handling all those rocks yesterday. But I bet it’s really hard to learn at first, right? How long did it take from when you first tried it?”

The part of my brain that wasn’t busy memorizing Dave’s face managed to track what his perfect, slightly pink lips were saying. He had no problem talking, I noticed. “It’s not that hard to learn, really. Kinda like a video game. Only bigger! It’s got those two joystick controllers, and once you get the feel for it, you pick it up pretty fast. Of course, you can do some real damage if you’re not careful!” I was grinning, recalling my first time trying to dig a hole. “Dad says he should’ve made a video for YouTube, when I was learning. Heh. But at least I didn’t break anything – or, nothing too expensive.”

We sat there, thinking our separate thoughts for a few seconds.

Dave said, “I’d give anything to learn how to do that.”

Out of somewhere I heard a voice – my voice! – answering.  “I have to work again today after school, but maybe you could come over tomorrow, and I could show you how.”   Whoa, who said that? I never invited anyone out to my place. Or anywhere.  Well, I’d never had any friends to invite.

“Oh, man. Could I? That would be so awesome!”  The bell was ringing, so we gathered up our stuff and headed back into the building. Dave said he’d meet me at my locker after the last class tomorrow. He was asking me where I lived, and saying how cool it would be to live outside the city and stuff as we got to where his friends were milling about. “Seeya tomorrow!” he called, as he joined them, smiling over his shoulder.

It was a good thing that none of the teachers singled me out or asked me any questions that whole afternoon because I was kinda in a daze; alternately wondering why Dave was so much into tractors, and remembering the way his perfect face was framed by his perfect hair, recalling how his voice sounded and thinking about how I felt when he smiled his perfect smile at me.

After school I made my way back over to the construction site. Either the soccer team didn’t have practice or they just weren’t outside yet, because the playing fields were empty. As I was getting over the fence, I could see the baseball team starting to come out of the school building. Baseball pants weren’t as sexy as soccer shorts, but they were close! I checked in with Dad, put the bike and pack in the truck and switched footwear. Another couple of loads of stones had been delivered, and the guys had just about used up all the ones Larry and I had sorted yesterday, so I got right to work.

When it was time for a break, I hopped down and stretched. Although the tractor seat, the one facing forward, was very comfortable for long periods of time, the little backward-facing seat for the backhoe wasn’t the best for posture, especially when tensed up a bit, concentrating on what the bucket was doing. I glanced up at the bleachers, and today it was a few of the baseball players who were watching. I realized that I was disappointed not to see Dave up there too. Then as I turned to get back up on the machine, I spotted him, by himself, a few rows below the top. He waved, and I smiled and waved back. A little self-conscious now, I got back to my sorting task. But my mind kept wandering back to thinking about Dave, and the fact that I had actually asked him to come over to my place tomorrow. I wasn’t sure if I was more nervous or excited. Both, I guess.

A loud whistle brought me back to Earth! Dan was shouting something and pointing to the middle pile of sorted stones. It took me a sec to realize that I’d been carefully putting ALL sizes of stones in the same pile. Oops! Blushing furiously, I idled the motor and Danny was going on about how I must’ve been daydreaming about my girlfriend, and some of the other guys were laughing. Ha! Oh, man, if only they knew…  I glanced up at Dave, who gave me the thumbs-up. I grinned sheepishly, and started putting stones where they belonged.

Finally, a little after five o’clock, all the piles were finished. Dad did a quick calculation and figured he had enough material to finish the job the next day. We packed up, loaded the tractor onto the trailer, admired the completed sections of retaining wall and climbed into the truck. Dave was still there watching and I waved to him as I closed the door. He waved back, got up, picked up his backpack and started making his way down the bleacher seats.

“Friend from school?” Dad asked. I was a little surprised that he had noticed.

“Um, yeah, that’s Dave. He’s in the same grade, but we don’t have any classes together. Um, he might be coming out to the house tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. But I’d like you to check that backhoe for an oil leak. I noticed a couple of drops on the trailer. Hydraulic oil, so probably just one of the lines needs tightening. Want to make sure it’s not one of the valves or a cylinder, before it gets worse.”

“Yeah, sure, Dad. No problem.” Yay! That meant we’d have the new backhoe to play with tomorrow.

Once home, we unloaded the tractor, parked the trailer, and I got my bike and stuff out of the truck. Dad was going to be out all evening, so I was on my own for supper tonight. I went in and took a shower. And, no, I didn’t perv and jerk off thinking about Dave! I mean, not that I didn’t think he was cute and all, but somehow the remote possibility that we might become actual friends kinda put a different light on it, you know? I mean, I didn’t want to even think about doing something that could screw this up. The short conversation we had at lunch, made me realize that I missed having a friend – that I needed a friend. I didn’t want to read too much into Dave wanting to come over, either. I’d just wait and see what happened tomorrow.

I went over to the house to scrounge something to eat. Perhaps ‘scrounge’ is the wrong word; Dad had all kinds of stuff in the refrigerator. Refrigerators, actually. I rooted around among all the weird things that I’d never heard of, until I came up with some known and familiar sandwich ingredients. That and there were always chips and coke over by the bar, in case a party should break out. This made two nights in a row with no guests! Pretty unusual, for Dad. I took my sandwich back to the motorhome that I still didn’t think of it as mine and checked for email and watched videos on YouTube until my eyes started slamming shut.

To be continued…
Read chapter 1 part 2

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