That week lasted half an eternity, I remember. I had all my stuff packed up by the next day, you know. My new Abercrombie boots were so woodsy�absolutely perfect. Camping was a good excuse to wear flannel, too.

Yes, I�m into fashion. Go away.

A whole day and night alone with Roger in the woods� I was so excited I paid even less attention to the real world than usual, lost in scheming and dreaming about what we might do. I smiled a lot that week.

Technically, I knew we weren�t going to be alone�I had to keep reminding myself that McKellen was coming with us. That was�interesting. Myron McKellen was our tall, sharp-faced main defender from Roger�s grade who went by his last name for obvious reasons. He was more of a hawk than a boy, with cold narrowed eyes and pointy silvery hair. He was extremely good-looking, but also absolutely horrifying, with a perpetual silent glare and frosty demeanor. I wouldn�t have been the least bit surprised to see him whip out a katana blade and start swooping down the hallways after secret agent foes. I got nervous just being alone in the men�s room with him.

For some reason, Roger was completely unaffected by the wake of blood he trailed behind him and thought he was a really swell guy. Likewise, McKellen seemed to enjoy his company as well.

At least, I figured, Roger would make sure McKellen didn�t go Hannibal Lector on me while I slept. I would stick by Roger�s side all night and let McKellen whet his knives (or whatever he does in his spare time) in peace at the other end of the campfire.

But like I said, sometimes things have a way of working out. A few hours before Roger was scheduled to pick me up that morning he called me.

�Hey, man, McKellen ditched. He has to go do something with his old man.�

Mr. McKellen had just gotten out of prison, mind you.

�You still up for it, just us?� Roger asked.

�You even need to ask? Hell yeah!�

Roger laughed. �You�re one enthusiastic little man, Arik, you know that?�

We loaded up Mr. O�Donnell�s truck with all our stuff and threw ourselves in the front with a six-pack of Mountain Dew and two bags of cheese curls. My mother kissed me goodbye, told me to have fun, be careful and for God�s sake, Arik, please don�t eat all those marshmallows. After a few more minutes of warning monologue, we escaped from parental supervision for the next day or so and took off down the road on our excursion.

Getting there was an adventure in itself.

We got lost, of course. (�You said you knew how to get there!� �I DO know how to get there!� �So, what, you can�t read maps?� �DON�T MAKE FUN OF THE ILLITERATE DYSLEXIC!�) We got pulled over by the police at one point running a red light and making an illegal turn while fighting over the map. After hearing a police report on the radio, we spent several hours in nervous paranoia, convinced we were being followed by a strange white van. At one point we pulled over so Roger could take a leak in the woods, and I decided to tease him by driving a few hundred yards down the breakdown lane. (However, I didn�t even have my permit yet, so I nearly rammed into a tree.)

After a few hours longer than expected, we made it to the campsite relatively in one piece. It was a lovely campground, with a tidy office and clean bathrooms and showers. Our site was a bit of a drive into the heart of the campground, down narrow dirt roads. Roger fairly bounced in his seat as we got closer, his fingers tapping the wheel excitedly and a goofy grin stretched across his face.

The site was beautiful. It was a remote spot, a small, cleared flat circle on the shore of the lake, surrounded by thick green woods. A well-used but very deliberate circle of stones was set up in the center for a campfire. I got out of the car, stopped, and sighed happily, for it was a place out of an L.L. Bean catalogue. It was absolutely silent of human noise, save Roger whistling happily and pulling our bags from the truck. It was a flawless day, the sky a brilliant blue and the sun warm and pleasant. The air was crisp with the coming of fall and its cool breezes that washed around us, teasing my hair and clothes and playing the leaves like wind chimes. I smiled. I really am more of an open-air ocean boy myself, but I can�t deny the peaceful majesty of the forest.

�This is so beautiful,� I breathed.

�Mm,� Roger agreed absent-mindedly, thrusting a bag into my arms. �Set that down over by mine, will ya?�

We set up camp with relatively few mishaps and swearwords. The tent was fairly small, I realized, and I wished that it bothered me more. Once it was set up we threw our sleeping bags and backpacks inside, set up chairs around the campfire-circle, and dug into the cooler for our lunches. As we�d been instructed, we called our parents to let them know we�d arrived without running off the road or winding up in Canada. When we were done, Roger turned his cell-phone off and tossed it in the tent.

�There,� he said. �Now it�s a party.�

�But what if they need to call us for some reason?� I asked.

�Well, then we�ll both get hell when we get home,� he replied nonchalantly. �You should learn to worry less, you know. You�re always so uptight, whether it�s about your grades or your parents or whatever.�

I shrugged.

�Relax, kid. You�ve got a few years to go �til you�re an old man like me.�

�Yeah, like you�re some fogey!�

He smiled, but shrugged his shoulders and eyebrows thoughtfully. �A lot can happen in a few years. The difference between fifteen and seventeen is a lot more than you think, Arik.�

I watched his face, then felt my eyes forced to the ground. It was really the first time he�d brought up the significant age-difference between us. Usually we both completely disregarded it.

He laughed then, breaking up a sudden awkward silence, as deepness was not something he attempted often. �But I shouldn�t talk�everyone knows you�re much smarter and more mature than me anyway.�

He jumped up. �For I am an immature moron, and I am going for a swim!� And he promptly ripped off his shirt and swung it around his head.

We changed into our swim shorts, only turning our backs for privacy (we were both guys, after all�at least I guess that�s what he figured.) I felt slightly awkward and self-conscious, for a different reason than I did at school, but for one I couldn�t figure out. I kept my own shirt on and waded in to my ankles while Roger ran in and then dove, disappearing under the water and then reappearing above the surface shaking his wet hair and whooping. It wasn�t like I didn�t have a body, but it was nothing next to Roger�s�and I always felt weird being half-dressed around him.

�Aaariiik, come on, man! The water�s positively splendid!� he called, swimming closer in so he could stand.

�It�s cold!� I yelled back, hugging my arms and dancing around.

�Oh, for God�s sake!� Roger laughed. He waded in to where I was standing and grabbed me by the waist as I tried to run back onshore.

�No! Lemme go!� I squealed as he dragged me into the water. �I don�t wanna get wet! I can�t get my shirt wet, it�s the only one I brought�!�

�Then take it off!� he replied, and much to my surprise, shoved his hands under my shirt and tried to pull it off me.

�Aiiii�waitwait you�re gonna�stop it stop it!� I tried to protest over wild giggles, feeling my face exploding. ��You�re gonna rip it!�

�God, ticklish much?� Roger�s innocently probing fingers turned to writhing ants violently tickling the sides of my ribcage, and I screamed in uncontrollable hysterics.

�Stoppit, stoppit, stoppit!� I shrieked, and I jerked away, making both of us crash down into the water on our rear ends.

�You are so weird!� Roger exclaimed, falling over in the water and practically crying with mirth.

�I�m weird? You�re the one feeling me up!� I screeched, and he guffawed so hard he choked on his breath.

�What can I say, Arik? You�re just so damn sexy I can�t keep my hands off you!� And then he kicked water at me and we had an extensive splash fight.

After a few hours we�d tired ourselves out, so we laid out on our chairs in the sun until we dried off. The sun glistened off the water droplets slowly melting down over his chiseled shoulders. And I reached over and ran my fingertips slowly across his smooth, warm skin, tracing the trails of the dripping water.

No, of course I didn�t.

It took us a while to get the fire started as it had rained a day earlier and all the logs and kindling in the woods were wet. Once we got it going good, we let it die down a bit and cooked some hotdogs and potatoes over it. The whole process took several hours, and as the sun fell behind the horizon in an explosion of reds, pinks, and purples, we drew our chairs around the campfire and talked. About everything.

�You�re a virgin, right?� he asked me.

I gave him an incredulous look from where I leaned into the fire with my chin in my hand and snorted. �You actually have to ask? Roger, I haven�t even kissed a girl.� I lowered my eyes into the fire again. �At the rate I�m going, I probably never will either.�

�Aw, that�s not true!� he protested, and I shrugged, thinking, if only you knew. �I think the girls dig you, actually. You�re just shy, so they�re afraid to say something to you.�

�When did you get your first kiss?� I interrupted.

�Uhh,� he said, and he chuckled sheepishly. �Fifth grade, actually. But it didn�t really count, I guess. The girl was kind of a ho. You know Rachael Davison?�

�Ew, you kissed her? She�s gross�I honestly thought she was a man for my whole freshman year!�

�Yeah, she didn�t exactly age well since fifth grade. But anyway� believe me, you�re much more popular than I am. Girls think I�m an ass. They think you�re adorable.�

I snickered. �Yeah, sure! This coming from the guy who can get with any girl in the school at a moment�s notice!�

He shifted his weight awkwardly, eyes on the fire, looking strangely sad. �Yeah, but they never actually like me. They just like the fact that I�m captain of the soccer team. Or something. I don�t think I�ve ever had a girlfriend who genuinely cared about me. Not many people do, really.� He looked up at me, completely earnest. �That�s why I like hanging out with you. �Cuz you don�t like me just because I�m popular�we�re friends. Right?�

�Best friends, man!� I exclaimed, and he grinned.

�Rad. Now, when we go back home, we�re going to both get ourselves cute girlfriends who�ll wuv us!� He hugged himself and then stood up, changing the subject. �I could go for a drink. You want a cold one?�

�Sure,� I said absently, then slyly asked, �You�re a virgin too, right?�

�Amazing but true,� he hummed, digging in the car.

I smiled to myself, comforted by the fact that the most popular guy in school had some of the same insecurities that I did.

In a minute Roger returned to the fire with two bottles. He stuck one in my hand and settled back into his chair. I was instantly puzzled�there was something wrong with this picture�but it took me a moment before I figured out what it was.

The bottle he was drinking from and the one he�d given me�it was beer.

�Roger!� I gasped. He looked up, nonchalant. �We-we can�t drink this!�

He rolled his eyes. �Oh, please. You�ve don�t drink?�

�Of course not! I can�t legally drink for another six years!�

He snorted contemptuously. �This is highschool, buddy. The legal drinking age doesn�t apply. Heck, I�ve been drinking since ninth grade.�

�Oh,� I said meekly, sinking into my chair awkwardly. I held the cold brown bottle in my hands. The condensation was sticky in my palms.

�I also have a Bud and Sam Adams if you�d prefer,� Roger informed me, smirking. �I only have one or two of each, though. Otherwise my dad gets suspicious.�

�You mean� you steal it from your dad?�

�Well, yeah,� he admitted, and I sensed a genuine wisp of guilt. �But I can�t prove that I�m 21, so no one will sell it to me. Where else am I going to get it? My dad always has a lot of alcohol around the house anyway, so he never notices.�

I didn�t reply. I played with the bottle in my hands, feeling like I was holding a gun, or porn, or some other illegal contraband. Roger took a long slug from his and then licked his lips, savoring every drop.

�Well, I won�t force you to drink it�that�s your call, man. I do love booze, though,� he explained.

Not wanting to look like a goody-goody dork, I took the bottle cap opener off the stone he�d set it on and opened my bottle. I took a mouthful, and instantly my senses were on fire with what had to be the most acrid, disgusting substance to ever hit my tongue. I swallowed it, fighting the urge to choke. Roger eyed me, amused.

�Don�t force yourself. You�ll puke,� he warned.

�I�ll be fine,� I replied indignantly, and forced another mouthful. I swallowed another, and then another, but after that I had to stop because I truly was getting nauseous. I managed not to throw up, but it was a while before I felt like eating. Roger, meanwhile, had finished his first bottle and was halfway through his second.

We talked, ate, and (Roger) drank into the evening. Darkness settled around us like a fog, and mosquitoes fluttered over our heads, the rogue bugs diving to us for blood. We polished off five hotdogs between us before whipping out the marshmallows. I washed mine down with Mountain Dew, but Roger kept downing beer after beer, especially after he realized that I wasn�t going to finish my first, never mind drink any of the others he�d brought for me.

The later it got the more slurred his speech became, and what he was blathering about made less and less sense. Even by the orange glow of the fire I could tell that his face had gone red.

�Can ah fi�ish yoursh?� he asked, pointing at my abandoned beer.

�I think you�re sloshed enough already,� I replied, and �conveniently� knocked over my bottle so that the rest of the drink spilled out onto the dirt.

Roger pouted. �Naw, ah�m not shat bad,� he laughed, waving a hand. He jumped up suddenly and swayed on his feet. �Ackshully, ah�m gun� go shwimming!�

�It�s 11:30 at night, you realize?�

�Aw, so what? Come in wiff me! Please?� he begged, pulling his shirt off.

�Oh, no, that�s quite all right, I�ll just sit here and watch,� I said, smirking.

He shrugged dramatically and very nearly lost his balance. Humming, he then proceeded to undo his belt, pull his pants down, and take his boxers off.

�HOLY SHIT,� I gasped, hands over my mouth, in utter shock.

�Ah dun� wan� get my clothesh wet an� my suit�s shtill wet an� I dun� wan� get my other clothesh wet either an� its dark out anyway!� he babbled, folding up his smiley face boxers, and it was clear he was so totally smashed he had no idea what in heaven�s name he was talking about.

And I just stared, because he was friggin� butt naked and dancing around. He still had a sock on one foot.

Jesus CHRIST, I thought, having to tear my eyes away because my face was on fire, so THAT�S what he looks like under there.

Roger was in the water now, swimming around and having himself a wonderful time. It occurred to me that I should keep an eye on him�after all, he was so drunk he could easily drown in a foot of water. I slid myself out of the chair I�d melted into and stumbled to the edge of the water to watch him, my legs actually shaking.

But why? Yeah, he was naked, but I�d definitely seen naked guys before�like every morning in the shower!

But� it was Roger. And�it was Roger! Oh, God, he was�! Oh, God, oh GOD!

I didn�t trust myself to speak because I didn�t know what I would say, so I just stood on the beach and watched him splash around, my whole body burning and sweating.

�You shurr you dun� wan� come in?� he called jovially, and a jolt ran through my body. Yes, I did want to, actually, strange as it sounded�but no, absolutely not, no, I couldn�t�I was afraid of how I�d react if I did.

�You drunk freak, get out and get dressed!� I called out at last, starting to feel sick. �Before you drown or...something!�

�Aww,� Roger whined, pouting. Reluctantly he waded onshore. He poked me in the collarbone, and I tried to keep my eyes above his neck. �Yerr no fun.�

He went to dry off, and I stooped down by the water�s edge to splash my face, although what I really needed was a cold shower. Eyes on the ground I shuffled back to my chair and concentrated on the dying embers of the fire. I heard him groan and retch into a bush, and I covered my face with my hand, completely amazed.

When he finally reappeared a few minutes later and sat back down in his chair he was fully dressed and little more sober.

�Ugh, my head hurts. Ah�m gun� brush my teeth an� go to bed, okay?� he said, holding his forehead.

�Fine by me,� I replied.

I let him brush his teeth, change into his pajamas, and settle into the tent before I got up to do the same. I took my time, trying to slow my spinning mind and calm my raging�hormones.

He was already asleep�or passed out�when I crawled into my sleeping bag next to him. The clich� thing to say would be that he looked like an angel or a child sleeping, but that wasn�t true. Rather, I thought he looked funny. To see such a perpetually happy and hyperactive boy, especially considering the earlier events of the night, so stationary and silent was absolutely strange. He looked nothing like himself without his wide grin and alert black eyes.

�Roger,� I whispered, but he was out cold, curled on his side with one arm flung out and one tucked beneath him. �You�re a nutcase,� I murmured softly. I pushed a stray lock of shiny brown-black hair out of his face and settled in. I fell asleep smiling.

Chapter Ten...