Playing the Field.

Out on the track life was good, you ran and you where fast and people liked you.

That’s how he fitted in, he was good at running and that made him popular.

Nobody cared about why he’d left the old place, there where rumours the obvious (he’d been caught dealing weed, got some girl in trouble) and the not so obvious (he’d run a test scam steeling the paper and selling them to younger students) but nobody guessed the real reason.

He came in the day of the protest, was being lead about and shown the sites when they passed the small group sitting on the steps of the maths block.

Their leader, a short bouncy girl scrambled up exchanged some insults with the group leading him about and then propositioned him to join their protest.

he’d looked past her to the others sitting on the steps, a pale thin girl holding a sign with no war written on it, a plum girl drawing peace signs on her arms and a boy sitting on the bottom step gazing out into space.

“I would” he said licking his lips “but it’s my first day” the boy looked up at him, he had long sooty eye lashes like he’d put on make up or something.

“Hi” he’d said quietly.

“Hi” the boy had said back, inclining his head in a half-nod of greeting.

“You don’t wanna talk to him…he’s a fag” someone had said, the boy stiffened and looked away, cheeks flushing an angry red.

And he’s looked away as well, but he’d been smiling.

But then he’d gone running and joined the team and forgotten the protesters and the boy on the bottom step.

Andy was inclined to lean against the wall of the sports centre after lunch was over while everyone else rushed to assembly.

He didn’t go, some time in the first year Kath had convinced him they didn’t have to go because Christians they weren’t and anyway Christians hate fags and dykes so missing people damning them for all of 15 minuets wasn’t against their rights.

Andy was also inclined to lean against the wall because it meant he got to see the running team come in from practise. He didn’t care for most of them, brainless, hopeless gits who survived purely for being able to run fast.

He hated that he couldn’t run fast because they always caught him, if they where in that sort of mood.

They came in drips and drabs some yelling at him, others ignoring him traipsing into the changing rooms.

He wasn’t allowed in the changing rooms, when he did sport he had to go and change in the staff toilets with its broken condom machine and vandalised stalls.

It was just one of those things, the last person to pass him was Olli caption of the football team, his shirt slung over his shoulder sweat trickling down his chest.

As he passed Andy he pressed a note into his palm then shoved him away with a snide comment directed at him.

Andy waited till he’d gone in to unfold the note and read it quickly.

In crude quick scrawl was written:

Meet me after school, normal place.

He screwed it up and threw the note in the bin, then walked away.

**************

Olli groaned, pushing his hips harder and faster, his cock brushing against Andy’s, Andy buried his head in Olli’s shoulder Moaning gently, he was so used to getting fucked like this he didn’t even hear the door opening.

He did hear the gasp, and the swearing.

He raised his head and his gazed locked with the new boys Oscar’s, in those eyes he saw disgust, horror, disbelief and…lust, he smiled and Oscar scowled, adverting his eyes to the floor.

Olli had stopped moving, aware of someone else in the room, he shoved Andy away and the boy fell backwards on the table, laughing; Olli buttoned himself up and turned to glare at Oscar.

“I didn’t see anything” Oscar lied unconvincingly, Olli nodded.

“It had better stay that way”

end chapter one.