Chapter 1: Over the Rainbow

I hate gay porn.

I don't think watching a guy ram his cock in another dude's ass is attractive. I mean, if that's the kind of thing you like, congratulations, I hope you enjoy many hours of hardcore ass-fucking. I think it's a bit gross, largely because I doubt all those guys are gay. I mean, if I were a straight guy, and I was offered money to make a gay porno, I'd be all over it. I'm not a big fan of sex-via-the-ass in theory, so I refuse to try it. A lot of people have some idea in their head that if the dude is gay, there's nothing he loves more than having a huge cock in his ass.

Well, yeah. Fuck you. There's nothing I want less than some dude's dick near my asshole. I mean, goddamn, I don't mean to sound like a pussy, but anal sex has to hurt, and the whole idea of sex is pleasure. Granted, I'm sure some guys (and girls, I guess) get excitement from watching two guys having sex. Something about it turns me off. Although, that seems kind of ironic, because I am gay.

I realized I was gay when I first started masturbating. I'm not sure when other dudes started whacking off regularly, but I started when I was in the sixth grade. I don't usually discuss such topics with other guys, so I wouldn't know if that's the average age or not. Anyway, I used to come home from school and lock myself in my room. I would spend hours playing with myself. I would close my eyes, and instead of visualizing girls, I would imagine guys. I don't remember exactly how long it took me to realize that I was the only guy who thought about other guys.

Prior to realizing what my masturbation habits hinted, I had never given my sexuality much thought. I grew up in a house where homosexuality was never brought up, so I was completely unaware that guy on guy action actually existed. I mean, I knew it was possible, but I didn't think anyone actually did it. My parents had raised me to be very innocent and unaware of anything they did not approve of.

I seriously started questioning my sexuality in the eighth grade. By then, I had begun to assume that I was the only guy who thought about other guys while masturbating, and that was made very evident by my friends' constant chatter about hot chicks they wanted to "do." Back in eighth grade, saying you wanted to "do" someone (or even something) seemed pretty risqué, and I felt like a total dickwad for never joining the conversations. I mean, my guy friends spent their school days checking out girls' prepubescent boobs, and drooling over the high school girls who actually had tits. Truth was, I didn't want to "do" any girl, hot chick, bitch, or whore (or whatever slang term you wish use.)

I suppose I have no desire to tell anyone my "secret" because, to me, it's not that big of a deal. When I finally realized that I was gay, I simply snorted to myself and continued on with what I was doing. It wasn't some life changing event because I had always been gay; I was only just realizing it.

I have never come out to anyone. I've never admitted to being gay. I've never admitted to liking or fantasizing about guys. Quite frankly, I never plan to. I've come to terms with being gay, and I realize that by keeping my sexuality a secret, the chances of me finding a gay dude willing to "be" with is pretty slim. I'm ok with that. I don't have a high sex drive, so I'm not suffering from anything that masturbation can't cure.

When Dad first told me we were moving, Mom stood next to me and half hugged me, as though bracing me for the news. I guess she was expecting me to freak out and get all, "oh my fucking God! My fucking like is fucking over, and I'll never fucking be the same!" You'd think that, after seventeen years, they'd figure me out a little.

After Dad told me, I asked him, "when?" and he and Mom stared at me. Neither of them said anything. I had started wondering if they were afraid I was imploding on myself. Eventually, Dad told me he would be moving in a week, and Mom and I would follow two weeks after that. I wasn't too surprised to hear the news, because both of my parents had been giving my sympathetic looks all week, as if they had just seen a three-legged dog trying to run.

My friends reacted with a, "man, that sucks," but neither they nor I sounded every upset about the news. I had never been very close with my friends, because I never joined in on their mindless babble of women. I was also very annoyed with their homophobic personalities, and their constant comments about 'fags' and such always pissed me off.

By the time those last three weeks in my hometown passed, I was so sick of people staring me down with sympathetic eyes and saying things like, "I can't believe your parents are making you move at the beginning of your senior year!" I even had some bony girl throw her toothpick arms around my waist and start crying. I wasn't completely sure who the hell she was, but she kept telling me how she would miss our talks in Biology class. I told her I took Biology over two years ago and that I had no idea who she was, and she left immediately.

The day we left, I couldn't help but notice no one came to say good-bye. I wasn't too heart broken about it, yet Mom still insisted on hugging me tightly and telling me it would be ok. I sighed and shrugged her arms off of my shoulders. I think she thought I was emotionally distressed, because she told me it would 'be ok' and the 'emotional pain will end' or something.

I'm pretty sure my parents think I'm a fucking nut job. They treat me like I'm some psychotic time bomb that is about to explode. I usually ignore it, but when I was sophomore, my parents sent me to a psychiatrist and told the guy some shit about me being emotionally distressed, and that they wanted me to get past the pain. I managed to convince the psychiatrist that I wasn't distressed and that I was simply the victim of overprotective, worried parents. He agreed that there was nothing wrong with me and let me go.

The house we moved into was bigger than our old house. I wasn't too crazy about the community we moved into, either. The whole development had some sort of order to it, making it look absolutely perfect. All the houses looked relatively similar, and all the lawns were kept perfectly green. There were kids that rode around the development on their bikes while their parents held hands and watched their child scoot around in front of them. To be blunt, it was fucking creepy. I half expected everyone to be involved in some sort of cult and ask us to join them in the ritual slaughtering of naughty children.

I was given the biggest bedroom (minus the master bedroom) in the rear of the house. All of my things had already been put in that room, and I noticed later the first night that my bedroom was connected to the bathroom, another bedroom, and a random closet. I'm not sure what the logic of the architect was.

We moved at the end of September, and I was starting my new school at the beginning of October, which was tomorrow. Mom had been agonizing over my meeting friends my first day of school. She had been telling me the first day was the determining factor in the meeting of new people.

"You know, Colby," she said between forkfuls of mashed potatoes, "it's all about first impressions, so you might consider not acting like you're depressed."

"Mom, I'm not depressed."

She nodded sadly. "I'm sure, sweetie."

I rolled my eyes. There were times when I considered taking advantage of my parents mistaking me as a depressed teenager, but I figured I was already a bad person, and I might as well not make it worse for myself.

"Your mother has a point, son." Dad said. "No one wants to be friends with a downer."

"I'm not a downer." I mumbled into my potatoes.

Mom's eyes brightened. "You know, I saw a girl that looks about Colby's age next door. Do you think she lives there?"

Dad shrugged. "It's always a possibility."

"Maybe she'll be friends with him."

"Mom, I can make my own friends."

"You know, maybe our families can get together for dinner some night. I would love to learn more about the community. I should get involved in activities. I wonder if this place has Halloween festivities."

Dad nodded. "That would be fine. Just make sure it's not on a Friday. I golf on Fridays."

Mom nodded. "I know."

"I don't want to get together with them." I said, annoyed.

"Sweetie, it would be a great way for you to meet someone your age."

"Mom, I can make my own friends."

"I know you can," she said, "but you never do."

"What do you call the people I hung out with back home?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't consider them your friends. I mean, I never liked them."

"Since when?"

"Well, Colby, I always thought they were a bad influence on you. They were always talking about girls and the female anatomy."

Dad laughed. "That's what guys talk about, darling."

Mom shook her head. "But they don't have to talk about it all the time, do they? I was always so worried Colby would be pressured into… sex."

I groaned. "Mom, don't you even start."

"No, I think it's very honorable that you didn't give in to temptation and start having sex. You don't meet very many guys your age who haven't been sexually active."

"You don't know that I haven't done anything."

"Well, you never brought a girl home."

"If he wanted to have sex, he wouldn't let us know he was bringing a girl home." Dad said.

I nodded in agreement. "I could be banging girls left and right. You wouldn't have a clue."

"Language, Colby." Mom warned. "Either way, I don't think you would do that."

"Do what?"

"Have sex with multiple girls."

"Well, you also think I'm depressed, so what the hell do you know?"

"Colby!" Dad barked. "Watch your language."

Mom sighed sadly. "I wish you would just admit to having a problem, Colby. Once you admit to having a problem, I'm sure a doctor could – "

"I don't have a fucking problem." I snapped.

"Go to your room." Dad said, pointing his finger to the staircase.

I stood up and left my half-finished meal on the table, glad to leave my parents' constant accusations. I had just collapsed on my bed when I heard the doorbell ring. I listened intently, and heard Mom's foot steps move to the front door. I heard the creaking of the door and a female voice speaking. It was probably a neighbor welcoming us into the community and inviting us to the ritual slaughtering.

I rolled over on my bed and stared at my alarm clock. The lights glowed 7:30 P.M., but it felt much later. The plane ride probably threw off my biological clock. To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to the first day of my new school. I wasn't dreading having to meet new people, I was dreading having to avoid new people. I didn't like meeting people, and I certainly didn't want to make any new friends. Plus, I found that, generally speaking, a lot of people did not find my personality very appealing.

"Colby!" I heard Mom yell. I groaned and rolled onto my back. The last thing I wanted was to hear more 'I know you're depressed' talks. "Colby!" I heard her yell again.

I stood up and opened my door. "What?"

I saw her standing by the front door with a woman and – I'm guessing – the girl that lives next door. "Come down and meet our neighbors." She was absolutely beaming with excitement. She was beside herself with joy, knowing that this woman made the first move towards a friendship. I walked halfway down the stairs and sat, staring at the two new people. "Colby, this is Barbara and Rachel Logan." The woman smiled and said hello, but the girl just waved awkwardly.

"Hi." I said.

"Colby, I have some good news! Rachel said she's in the twelfth grade as well!"

"Oh boy." I said.

The girl – eh, Rachel – raised her eyebrows at my comment. "Don't sound too excited."

I stared at her, not at all impressed. To be honest, I'm a fucking critical person. When I look at a person, the first thing I do is pick out every flaw I can find. I rarely come across someone I deem as perfect. Rachel, in case you were wondering, was not perfect. She wasn't unattractive, but she had a look that screamed of mediocrity. Personally, I'd rather be ass-ugly than be mediocre. At least if I were ass-ugly, people would notice me. Granted, I don't like being the center of attention, so I don't want to be ass-ugly either.

"Of course he's excited." Mom said enthusiastically. "He's just not good at showing it."

Mrs. Logan nodded. "Well, Rachel was wondering if Colby would like a ride to school every day. She has a parking permit to park at the school, and if she gave Colby rides, he wouldn't have to ride the bus."

"Moooom!" Rachel moaned. I had a feeling Rachel had not been wondering anything, and her mom had done all the wondering herself.

Mom beamed. "That would be fantastic! Wouldn't that be fantastic Colby?"

I rolled my eyes. "Undoubtedly." Quite frankly, getting a ride from this girl was not my idea of 'fantastic.' I had a horrible feeling that she was going to treat me like I was some poor, pathetic lost puppy. You know what I mean, she'll show me all my classes and introduce me to all her friends as 'the new guy,' and let me sit with her at lunch. Because I must look that fucking desperate. I'd rather be friends with a sack of potatoes, but a sack of potatoes wouldn't drive me to school.

Mom grabbed Mrs. Logan's hand and dragged her into the kitchen to meet Dad. "Darling, meet our new neighbor, Barbara!"

I looked at the Rachel girl again. She had chin-length, light brown hair, brown eyes, baggy clothes, and a pissed off expression. Not really what I consider attractive. She sighed and shifted from foot to foot. "So," she started, "where are you from?"

I stared momentarily, wondering if I should even acknowledge her pathetic attempt at small conversation. "Ohio."

"Really? I have an aunt that lives in Ohio. Where in Ohio are you from?"

"Doesn't matter anymore." I said. I really wanted to fucking punch her. I knew I sounded like a total jackass, because she was only trying to be nice, but I really wasn't in the fucking mood for this happy chatter.

"Oh…." She mumbled. Her eyes drifted to the kitchen where her mom stood with my parents. She wanted a way to escape the awkward conversation. How cute. She continued to shift uncomfortably underneath my gaze until her mom returned. I silently wondered if she considered herself a productive member of society, because she certainly wasn't doing much at the moment.

She and her mom both said their good-bye's and Mom turned towards me. "Wasn't that fantastic?" She oozed.

I rolled my eyes. "I almost can't contain myself."

"This is wonderful because now I don't have to drive you to school."

"I'm glad I'm no longer a burden."

"Oh, Colby, you know that's not the case, but I have so much unpacking to do."

"Yeah, I know."

She smiled at me and touched my cheek. "Go apologize to your father for saying a bad word. He didn't mean to yell."

I sighed. "I'm not going to apologize."

She shrugged. "Well, suit yourself. I hope you're ready for school tomorrow. Mrs. Logan said Rachel usually leaves a bit after seven. Try to be ready, ok?"

"Sure." I stood up and started moving up the stairs.

"Oh, and sweetie?"

I froze on the third stair from the top. "Yeah?" I asked without turning around.

"Remember to take a pen and paper so you can write down what school supplies you'll need."

"All right." I hurried into my room before Mom could think of anything else she wanted to tell me. Sometimes I wondered how she would react if I just told her 'no' to something she requested. I guess she'd tell me I was depressed, and it was ok.

I flopped onto my unmade bed and sighed. I really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. I knew that, by being new to a school during my senior year, the chances of me making lasting friendships were slim to none. Not like I had done a fantastic fucking job prior to moving, so I suppose I couldn't blame my lack of social skills on being put into a new environment. At least this new place allowed me to rid myself of the old "friends" I had back home. Those guys acted like asses, anyway.

-

The following morning I was awoken to Mom bursting into my room. I refused to open my eyes, in the hopes that she'd give up and leave me alone. Much to my dismay she hurried over to the bed and sat down next to my resting position. "Honey, wake up!" She almost yelled.

"What the hell?" I mumbled rolling over and looking at her.

She smiled. "Rise and shine!"

I rolled away from her and closed my eyes.

"Sweetie, get up."

I pressed my face into the pillow. "Mom, it's 5:30 in the morning. I don't have to be up for an hour."

"I thought you'd want a head start because it's your first day."

"I won't make any new friends by showing up to school an hour early."

"You might."

I sighed and sat up, giving up all hope of falling back asleep. I really wasn't sure what she expected me to do. It's not like I could stand in the lobby of the school and hand out fliers that listed my interests and contact information. I was already getting a ride from that girl. What more did she want? Was I supposed to go over to her and demand that we leave early so I could make new friends? She probably did expect me to do that. "Could you give me some space?"

Mom nodded. "Sure thing." She pushed herself off of my bed and shut the door. It wasn't until I had finished getting dressed that Dad walked into my room.

"How are you doing?"

I nodded. "All right."

"Good. Are you nervous?"

"No."

"Excited?"

"No."

"Are you at least curious about your peers?"

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Are you anything?"

"Bored."

Dad sighed. "Colby, I'm sorry for snapping at you last night at dinner."

I frowned. "Why are you apologizing? I'm the one that snapped."

He nodded. "I know, your mother just wanted me to apologize."

"Oh." I grabbed my backpack off of the floor. "Well, I should probably get going."

"Wait! There's one more thing I wanted to talk to you about."

I stopped and turned cautiously towards him. "Yeah?"

"Well, in this new school you'll be surrounded by hundreds a new people. Hundreds of new girls."

Oh. God. "Dad, spare yourself the embarrassment. Don't bother."

"No, no. I think you should know where your mother and I stand on topics like these."

"Dad, all parents are the same."

"All the same, I just want you to hear it from me."

"I should really be going." I turned and hurried from my bedroom all the way downstairs to the kitchen. Mom was standing by the sink washing apples.

"Hi, honey. I washed an apple for you!"

I stared. "I don't like apples."

Her face fell slightly. "Oh. What are you going to eat?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing?" I wasn't really big on eating food in the morning anyway. I preferred waiting until lunch.

"You have to eat something."

"I'll eat breakfast at school."

"You can eat at school?"

"Yeah, that girl next door told – "

"Rachel."

"What?"

"Her name is Rachel."

"Rachel told me you can get food at school." Lie number one of the day.

"Really? That's nice. Ok, well I suppose you should go over and meet her so she doesn't have to come here."

I nodded. "'Kay, bye." It was surprisingly nice outside, and I considered blowing this girl off and just walking to school, but I had no idea how to get there, so I walked next door and sat on the trunk of her car. At least I assumed it to be her car, because it looked like total shit, and I could imagine her driving a giant turd on wheels.

She came out shortly after I arrived and she smiled brightly. Oh God, bring on the bullshit. "How are you doing?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Fine."

She nodded. "Ready to go?"

"I've been waiting for you." We climbed into her rundown VW, and I noticed the handle to the glove compartment was missing. She quietly backed out of the driveway before attempting to start conversation again.

"It must be tough moving during your senior year. I know I would hate it."

"Heh."

"Was it tough for you?"

"I'm indifferent."

"I'm starting to get that impression."

"Congratulations."

She quieted down a bit and didn't speak again until we got to the school. I had begun to get hopeful, thinking she wouldn't try talking to me anymore, but my hopes vanished as I saw her open her mouth. "Do you know where the office is?"

"Not really."

"Would you like me to show you?"

"Not particularly, but I guess I don't really have a choice."

She narrowed her eyes. "Look, do you want my help or not?"

I rolled my eyes. "No one else is volunteering, so yeah."

She stared at me for a moment, and I half expected her to just walk away. "Fine, follow me." She marched up the front steps of the school and turned down a hallway. "The office is the second door on the right."

I nodded. "Ok." I started to walk away from her.

"You're welcome!" She yelled after me.

I rolled my eyes. She was trying so hard to be nice to me. Chances are her mom told her to be nice to the "new guy" and help me make friends, or something. I could just imagine the kind of friends she would try to hook me up with. I'd probably be bleeding out the ears by the time I managed to escape their asinine conversations. I could imagine them sitting around a table discussing Disney movies, or something like that. Something that would really make me want to cringe and stab a pencil through my eye.

My day at school wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Generally, I was ignored by my student peers, and only one or two people actually tried talking to me. Those people, of course, were so persistent about talking, I practically had to kick them in the face to get them to shut up. I swore if I heard one more person say "it must be tough," I'd bring a grenade launcher to school and rocket grenades up everyone's asses.

At lunch time, I went outside so to avoid that girl and all her friends. I really didn't want her to talk to me, but because she was already driving me to school, I knew I wanted to make our meetings as short as possible.

A/N: So, the beginning of another story. Yeah. I ended the first chapter kind of abruptly, but I just wasn't sure where the best place to stop would be. Anyway, I hope this story will turn out as well as I think it will. I already have every step of the plot written out over three pages in MS Word. Just remember, because the main character's gay, try to read the story with an open mind. Please leave a review and let me know how you feel about this chapter/the story's potential. Thanks!