won’t be done ‘til Friday. Zach’s taking him home tonight and tomorrow night. Then a friend who works nearby can bring him here the other days but can’t pick him up. I was wondering if you would be able to drop Nick off at our house after practice on Wednesday. And maybe Thursday, too, if I have to stay in D.C.”
Looking rather indifferent, Clarkson said, “Sure. Anything to help, George. Besides, it’s not far out of my way.”
“Thanks, Herb,” Baker said with a nod. “Now, I’ve got to get going. See you later.”
“Take care, George.” With that said, Clarkson looked up and out onto the field to watch the boys—his boys—running in the distance. As he gazed at the group that was now being coached by Nick, he saw that there were two separate groupings of runners: one small group of stragglers following the larger group, most of whom were keeping up the pace. He was especially taken by the two front-runners. Two tall blonds, running almost neck-and-neck. Out front by only a half a step was the taller one—Nick. Just to his right was young Jack Thompson, trying to keep pace with the newly appointed student coach. To see these two young men casually vying for first place produced a smile on Clarkson’s face, one that would be repeated later that night.
THE TWO YOUNG MEN HAD HARDLY GOTTEN into the car when Zach turned to Nick and asked, “So how did it go?”
“Practice went well,” was the response from Nick. “Definitely some challenges there. But some of those boys have potential.”
“No!” said Zach, a bit frustrated. “I mean with Clarkson.”
“Oh, yeah,” Nick said as he stripped off his T-shirt and used it to wipe perspiration from his neck. “Good, I think.” He then added, “Dude, how about turning on the A/C.”
Zach placed his finger on the air conditioning ‘high’ button and pushed it. Almost immediately, cool air started blowing from the vents. “Dad said that Clarkson will be taking you home tomorrow. And Thursday night, too. You okay with that?”
“Sure,” came the reply. “That’s what I was hoping for.” As he spoke those words, Nick leaned forward so that his face was just inches away from an air vent.
“So, did you get to talk with Jack?”
“A little,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s not a very friendly kid. Kinda shy. A loner, I think. But he’s definitely a competitive dude.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, he seemed to always want to do what I asked but to do it better than the others. You know, faster, stronger, higher.” He then looked at Zach with a smile and said, “The kid tried to outpace me on the final warm-up lap. He’s got some spunk.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Nick said with a special notation, “he’s pretty tight with Clarkson. I mean, anything Clarkson asked, Jack was right there to do it.”
“So, did Clarkson make any moves on you?”
“Naw,” he said, shaking his head.
“Dad said he could see that he was looking at you with interest.”
“It’s my charming personality,” said Nick showing his famous grin.
“Seriously, dude. You gotta watch yourself. ‘Cause if this guy is who we think he is, things could get, like…” Zach rolled his eyes.
“Like what?”
“Like, weird. You know.”
“Dude, it’s all gonna be cool.”
“Well, Dad’s worried about not being in town over the next few days. He’s afraid you might need help and he won’t be here for you.”
“Look,” Nick said with all seriousness, “we’ve decided on a course of action, right? And it’s going well so far. Besides, if I need help I know just what to do.” He then tapped his finger on the pocket where he kept his cell phone. “I just call your number and scream ‘HELP!’ And you come riding in to rescue me.” Nick then laughed.
“Damn you! It’s not funny. I worry, you know.”
“Sorry, bro. I know you do. I just don’t think there’s anything to be worried about.”
“So what’s next?”
“Next?” Nick repeated. “How about you put this car in gear and we get our asses home. ‘Cause I need a shower and some food.”
From a distance, a pair of eyes observed Zach’s VW drive out of the Samuel Scott Recreation Center’s parking lot. Only minutes later, those same eyes were focused on a tall, blond young man with a shy smile on his face. As he approached, the young man speaking in a still-adolescent voice said, “Thanks for waiting, Coach. And for the ride home.”
IT WAS LATE—ALMOST MIDNIGHT—when the telephone rang. Clarkson, who had been in a deep sleep, was brought, suddenly, into the present. As he opened his eyes, he saw that he was still on his patio, near the pool, looking up at a star-filled sky. He shivered a little, the result of a cool breeze blowing across his naked body. He rubbed his eyes as he tried to focus on the present, leaving behind a highly sexualized dream he had been having.
It was the persistent ringing of the phone that finally got Clarkson to move. Slowly, he pushed himself up and out of the lounge chair. It was then that he discovered that he had a partial erection, one that dissipated as he walked toward the patio phone. He wondered who would be calling at such a late hour. Actually, several names came to mind. Finally, at the phone, Clarkson picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
The voice on the other end was muffled; purposely disguised. It took less than two seconds for Clarkson to identify the purpose of the call. In an outburst of anger, he said, “Who is this?”
The person on the other end began talking again but was not allowed to finish because Clarkson interrupted with, “I don’t know who the hell you are but you had better stop calling me. Do you hear me?”
There was silence. Neither the caller nor Clarkson said anything for several seconds. But Clarkson could hear the heavy breathing on the other end. He also recognized how upset this caller had made him when he heard the words pervert and sodomizer and predator being used to describe him. Whoever it was on the other end was trying their best to scare him. At least, to harass him.
Not sure what to do he slammed down the phone only to have it ring again in less than a minute. After once more picking up the receiver, and without even attempting to listen, Clarkson yelled into the phone. “I’m going to report you to the police if you don’t stop calling here.”
The last thing Clarkson heard from the voice on the other end was, “Go ahead and I’ll tell them everything I know about you and your fucked-up activities.” Now it was the caller who hung up first, leaving Clarkson to wonder whom it was that had just called him? And why?
TUESDAY
WEEK ONE
DAY 4
NICK AWOKE WITH A START. That was followed by a shudder that could be felt throughout his whole body. Looking upward toward the ceiling, Nick blinked his eyes several times as he checked in with himself. Something had just happened. That ‘something’ was terrifying enough to cause his body to shiver and to make his heart pound. With eyes now wide open, he looked around, seeing only the grayish darkness of a room. Knowing that this was not his bedroom, he wondered if he was still in the uncertainty of that ‘something’—at least, some remnant of it.
A few moments passed with Nick not moving. Still feeling a hint of the surreal, he sat up and looked around once again. Although still night, and although the room was dark, there was enough light coming in the