Never Forget Your First

First Day of School

"Hi, what's your name?" the kid asked him. 

It was Freddie's first day at his new school and he was worried about making new friends.  This kid seemed nice.  "I'm Freddie, what's yours?"

The kid held out his hand.  He had the biggest smile.  "Nice to meet you, Freddie.  I'm Greyson."

As they shook hands Freddie felt a small jolt go through him.  Maybe it was one of those minor electric shocks or something.  Whatever it was it went through his entire being in an almost pleasurable way.

Greyson smiled wider.  Did he feel it too?

"Wanna be friends?" Greyson asked.  "We can hang out at my house.  Do you like movies and video games?"

"Sure." Already Freddie knew that he liked this guy and would get along great with him.  Greyson was so nice, especially when he took Freddie's hand.

"Come on."

From then on, Freddie and Greyson were thick as thieves.  You never saw one without the other.  They sat together in every class. 

"When's your birthday?" Greyson asked one day.

"February 14.  When's yours?"

"August 16.  What's your middle name?"

"Thomas."

"Michael."

They got along great.  However there were times when Freddie would catch Greyson staring at him.  Really staring.

"What?" Freddie said.  "What are you looking at?"

Greyson would look away.  "Oh nothing."

They spent their time playing videogames and reading comics.  They didn't have any other friends so they were each other's only companion.  After school they would go to Greyson's house.  It was closer.  His room was in the attic.  It was large and private with a TV and videogames. 

"You're cheating!" Freddie yelled during one game.  "You cheated, I know it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did so!"

"Will you damn kids shut the fuck up in there!" Greyson's mom yelled from another room.  "I'm trying to watch my shows, dammit!"

They giggled and turned down the volume.  It was always like that at Greyson's house.  His folks would camp out in front of the TV with their cigarettes and beer.  Freddie liked his place.  It was a lot more fun than his own quiet house where his folks were either at work or locked away in their office.

One afternoon at Greyson's when his folks were out they swiped a bottle of beer and a pack of cigarettes.  They went up to the room.

"Have you ever done this?" Freddie asked as Greyson popped open the bottle. 

"Just a couple of times." Greyson took a swig of the beer before passing it to Freddie.  "Go ahead.  Heineken is the best."

Freddie took the bottle.  He took a sip, then gagged.  "Yuck!"

"You barely took any.  Try some more, don't be shy." Greyson put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a deep drag. Freddie watched in amazement as he exhaled the smoke like a pro.

"Wanna try?" he asked, holding up the cigarette.

Freddie took it and mimicked Greyson's inhaling.  Again he gagged, coughing hard.  "Jesus!"

"No, no," Greyson said.  "You're supposed to inhale.  Inhale.  That means  suck that shit in your lungs."

"What do you think I'm doing?" Freddie choked.

Greyson shook his head.  "Clearly not that.  I'd hate to give you any good weed if you're just going to waste it like that."

"What do you know about weed?"

"More than you, obviously."

Freddie tried the beer and the cigarette a couple of times.  Suddenly he felt a turn in his stomach and threw up.

"Eccch!"

"Ewww!" Greyson jumped back.  "In the trash can, do it in the--"

Freddie threw up again, getting it all over himself.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Greyson's mother yelled, slamming the front door.  "If I have to come up there--"

"It's cool, Mom!" Greyson yelled out his door.  "We're good!" He put an arm around Freddie and escorted him to the bathroom across the way.  "Come on, let's clean you up."

Freddie felt Greyson carefully lifting up his shirt and removing it.  He took a wet wash cloth and wiped him down. 

Freddie felt the care Greyson took in cleaning him up, and for some reason it made him a little uneasy.  "I can do this."

"It's not a problem." Greyson said as he rubbed his chest with the wash cloth.

Freddie quickly stepped back.  "No, I'm good."

"Are you sure? At least take one of my shirts." Greyson handed him a black Speed Racer T shirt.  "Yours is a mess."

"I'm good." Freddie put his dirty shirt in one of the many plastic bags littered in the house.  He rushed to the door with Greyson following close behind.

"You're leaving now?" Greyson asked.  "Don't you want to stay and watch some movies or something?"

"No, I'm not feeling well, I'm just going to go home." Freddie was feeling so strange.  "I just want to go home and lay down."

"Okay," Greyson looked disappointed.  "Will I see you at school tomorrow?"

"Sure." Freddie practically flew down the steps and across the street.  What was this he was feeling? This was a new kind of stomach trouble.

When he turned to look back he saw Greyson still standing on the porch, staring at him.