Kaimoana tales, Riley 3

Peter led the way, up the steps and through the gap in the wall at the back of the beach. They crossed the sidewalk and the road and walked the one short block back to the road at the foot of the hill.

Across there, the line of houses tucked in against the foot of the hill were quite substantial and newish looking, all except for one. One house was old and faded. Blue-painted, it was only about half the size of the neighbours’, low to the ground and looked like it wouldn’t be any more than one or two rooms inside. So, that, of course, was the house that they went into.

Peter untied and opened the front gate which was made of driftwood sticks tacked together. He stood back to let Riley enter. “Home sweet home,” he said with an apologetic grin. “It’s not much, but it’s all ours. We’ll go around to the back.”

They walked the narrow, brick, path to the back of the house. The lush gardens all around them were mostly vegetables with a few rose bushes interspersed.

“Nice roses,” Riley said, making conversation.

“Yes, they are,” Peter replied. “They’re old-fashioned roses. Mother grew them from cuttings taken from bushes in the oldest part of the cemetery. The flowers are small, but they have a very strong scent, much more than modern roses. We grow them to attract the bees to the beans and other vegetables. Plus, they do smell nice,” he grinned.

“They do. They smell great.”

An older lady came around the corner of the house. At first, Riley thought that she must be Peter’s grandmother.

“Peter! There you are. Where have you been, My Son?”

“Hello Mother. I was swimming at the beach. I lay down and went to sleep in the sunshine. Sorry.”

“No need for ‘sorry’. Are you not getting enough sleep, is that the problem?”

“There’s no problems, Mother. I just went to sleep.”

“A young boy like you shouldn’t need to sleep in the daytime. Do you not sleep at night?”

“I sleep fine – really. I was warm and comfortable in the sunshine. I relaxed and went to sleep for a few minutes.”

“Are you sure? Oh, look at you! It must have been for more than a few minutes. You are sun-burnt! Peter, you know that your skin is fair, you must be more careful.”

“I will. Mother, this is Riley, he’s new in town. Riley woke me up and saved me from getting more burnt.”

“Hello Riley. Thank you. You are most kind.” Peter’s mother smiled and he smiled back.

He liked this lady. She was small and round and old enough to be his grandmother. There was something nice and warm about her. She was quietly spoken and had a thick accent of some sort, but something about her made him want to listen and concentrate on every word.

“You are very nice boy. Most people would not do that for Peter. He doesn’t have many friends.”

“Mother, I don’t have any friends, you know that.”

“Well it is a shame. Those silly children, they don’t know what they’re missing.” She turned back to Riley. “Peter is a very nice boy. He is a good son and a nice boy.”

“I’m sure he is,” Riley smiled. “I think he’s nice too. But, you should know.” Peter shook his head, but Riley ploughed on. “I’m really not that nice. I’m afraid I hurt him and made his back bleed. Sorry.”

“You what? Peter, what did he do to you? Show me!”

“It’s nothing, Mother. It was an accident. The wind blew the umbrella over when Riley was trying to move it.”

“Why did he move it? Show me, Peter.”

Peter sighed and turned to show his back.

“Ahh! Blood. What happened?”

Riley stammered. “The umbrella. The wind. It fell and the spines hit him. Sorry.”

She looked at Riley’s red face. She nodded and then relaxed. “Accidents happen. Sit on the bench in the shade and I’ll get the first-aid box. You need some salve on that burn too. You must be more careful, Peter.”

“Well, ah, I should be getting home, I guess.”

“Oh no, Riley,” she said. “Please stay for a few minutes. We get few visitors and Peter never gets any. No-one comes to see him. Please stay and I will make us some tea.”

“Well, I could stay for a few minutes, if you really want me to.”

“We do. We do. Sit down, talk to Peter and I will be right back.” She hurried away inside.

Peter grinned at him. “Oh boy! That went well. Thanks Riley. If you hadn’t been here, Mother would be having canaries.”

“You think? For a minute there, I thought she was going to kill me.”

“No she wouldn’t; she likes you. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Hungry? Not really. Why?”

“Mother said that she’s making tea. You don’t know what that means, but you soon will. She’s a great cook, a really great cook and there’s nothing she likes more than feeding people. Don’t be too enthusiastic or you won’t be eating for the next week. She’ll stuff you so full you won’t even want to look at food.”

“No worries. I’m a pretty good eater you know.”

“You’d better be!”

Peter’s mother came back with a wooden box with a big red cross painted on the white lid.

“Sit still, Peter, while I look at you.”

“Mother! Really, it’s not that bad. I’ve already washed it in the sea.”

“That is good. Sea water is good for cuts and burns. Good thinking, Son.”

“It wasn’t my idea. Riley told me to do it.”

“Thank you, Riley. I knew that you were a good boy. Still, can’t be too careful.” She opened the box, took out a bottle of clear liquid and some cotton buds and proceeded to swab Peter’s back. “Stop flinching. Of course it stings a little, it is disinfectant. Better a little pain now than a lot later. There now, all done.”

She gently patted his skin dry and put two flesh-coloured patches on him.

“That’s done. Now you need some salve for the sunburn. Riley, would you like to rub the lotion on Peter’s back while I get the tea ready?”

“Sure. I can do that.” Riley agreed eagerly and he moved around to the back of the bench.

She handed a tube of lotion and then headed back inside the house.

“Umm. How do we go about this?”

“Just blob some on my shoulders, and then spread it around with your fingers. Cover all the red bits, but please be gentle. It’s a bit sensitive now. Feels like I’m burning up.”

“I’ll be careful. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He poured some on and started working it around.

Riley was enjoying this. Really enjoying this. He rubbed his greasy fingers around on this beautiful boy’s back. His back was firm and full-fleshed, smooth, hairless and perfect. There wasn’t a blemish anywhere, not even a freckle.

The only flaws on Peter’s back were the ones that he had caused. He felt stink about that. It was like he’d damaged a work of art, a perfect work of art.

He could feel the heat radiating from the sunburn. It was a warm day, but Peter felt hot. Riley felt hot too, but in a different way, he was getting excited. It was a good thing that it was Peter’s back that was burnt and not his front. If he was standing around the front rubbing lotion on, the boy would have a big, stiff, dick in his face. Well, a reasonable-sized dick, but it was hard, really hard. His tight jeans wouldn’t have left much to the imagination.

Riley had ‘known’ a few boys. Not a lot, but a few, but he’d never been with any boy who he wanted as much as this one. He was gorgeous and so, so, sexy. It was like he was blond all over. Even if his hair was covered, you’d know it was blond from his fair, perfect skin. It was all a very light pink/tan colour, except for the sunburn and except for his rosy-red cheeks, which coloured his face nicely.

The boy was beautiful. That was the only word for him – beautiful. Why on earth didn’t he have any friends? Someone who looked like this should be way popular.

Peter’s mother came back with a stack of round cake-tins. She spread them out on the picnic table, taking the lids off and putting the tins on top of them.

“I should have asked you, Riley. Do you want tea? We have herbal teas if you prefer. Or, if you want a cold drink, there’s grape-juice and apple cider. Both are home-made, of course.”

“Tea is fine thanks. I don’t mind a cup of tea for a change sometimes.”

“A change? What do you usually drink?”

“I usually have coke, or coffee, but tea is okay.”

“That is good then. We don’t have coke or coffee. Have you seen the price of them? Peter, put your shirt on, and stay out of the sun.” She went back inside.

“Just as well you didn’t say beer,” Peter grinned. “You’d have been out of here!”

“You don’t have beer then?”

“Not likely. Mother hates beer. My father has one sometimes, but she does not approve.”

Peter shrugged into his shirt. ‘Damm,’ Riley thought. It made sense for him to cover up, but it was a shame to hide all that fine flesh.

Peter caught him looking at him and he grinned again. “Sorry, Riley. The strip-show is over for today.”

“Bugger,” Riley grinned back. “You’ve got a great body, Peter. You’re a fine-looking guy.

“You think so? You’re not so bad yourself – pretty good really.” His eyes flicked down to Riley’s still-hard dick and up at his eyes again. He blushed a little.

“I’m so glad to have met you, Riley.”

“So am I, that’d be good. Very good. But, we probably won’t be friends for long,” Peter spoke low, looked down and blushed.

“Huh? Not for long? Why not?” Riley was puzzled. He liked this kid and he was fairly sure that Peter liked him too. Why shouldn’t they be friends?

Mrs. de Groot returned, pushing a laden tea-trolley, and Riley scrambled to sit down before he was embarrassed. He was pretty sure that Peter knew what state he was in, but he did NOT want the mother knowing.

“I made some sandwiches,” she announced needlessly as she put the platter on the table before the boys. “Tomato sandwiches on the left, sea-cress on the right.”

“Sea-cress?” Riley asked.

“It’s a sort of sea weed,” Peter grinned. “Try one, they’re good.”

“Well, maybe one. I don’t much like sea food, but thanks.”

He took one of the small sandwiches, bit into it, and then had a second bite. He sat chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” said Peter. “What do you think?”

“It’s good, very good. In fact, it’s great. It tastes a bit like salty lettuce, I like it. Nice bread too, is this store-bought?”

“No,” she beamed proudly. “It is home-made. Everything you see here is home-made or home-grown. I like to make good healthy food. Have another sandwich. Eat up, Peter.”

‘I’d like to eat up Peter too,’ Riley thought and grinned.

Peter grinned back at him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, could he? He tried a tomato sandwich.

Over the next hour or so, they chatted as they sampled all sorts of delicacies. Remembering Peter’s warning, Riley tried not to be too enthusiastic in his praises, but this was great food. The old lady was delighted to be told so.

Finally, he declared that he couldn’t eat another bite. He thanked her, profusely, and said that he had to be getting home. His mother might be starting to worry. He didn’t have his cell with him and nobody knew where he was. He’d only intended to wander across to the beach for a minute or two.

On his mother’s prompting, Peter said that he would walk back with him. Riley told him that he didn’t have to, it wasn’t far and he couldn’t get lost, but he insisted and Riley was pleased really. At least they’d get a couple of minutes alone together.

They walked back to the café, chatting easily. Arriving there, Riley told him to come in for a minute. They went through to the kitchen, he introduced Peter to his mother, and then they went out of the back door and Riley led the way up the stairs on the cliff-face out there.

At the top, they came out on to the large, wooden deck at the back of Riley’s new house.

“Wow. This is great.” Peter stopped and admired the view down over the roof-tops, across the street and out to the ocean.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Riley agreed. “But I bet it’s gets bloody windy on a stormy night though.”

“It probably will, but we don’t get many of those. You’ll just have to stay inside then.”

“We will, for sure. Come inside now; come and see my room.

Man, that was great food! I ate too much. It’s a wonder that you’re not as big as a house when your mum feeds you like that.”

“I control myself. We don’t do that very often. We don’t get many visitors.”

“I don’t see why not. If people knew that they’d get fed like that, you’d never get rid of them.”

“Probably just as well that they don’t know then.”

They went through the ranch-slider door, into the lounge.

“You don’t lock the door?”

“There’s no need to. The only way up here is through the café.”

“Did you carry all of your furniture up those stairs?”

“No,” Riley laughed. “There’s another door at the front of the house. That one is locked.”

“Oh. Of course it is. Very nice room.”

“Yeah. It’s not bad. It’s a bit small for a lounge though. That’s probably why they built the big deck outside.”

“It could be. That would be a great place for a party.”

“If we have parties, yeah. My room is through here.”

He led the way into the side-room. Riley’s room was nearly as big as the lounge and it was also at the back of the house. It had its own ranch-slider leading out to the deck.

“Very nice,” Peter enthused. You’ve got your own view too.”

“Yeah. Only trouble is, it faces east so it’ll catch the morning sun. Mum says that that will help to wake me early in the mornings.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“No, it’s not! I’ll paint the window black if it does.”

“That would work,” Peter laughed. “But then you’d lose your view. This is great.”

He walked across and stood looking out of the window. Riley stood behind him admiring the view – the view of the boy that is, not the window. He was not ugly himself, he knew that, he had eyes. Besides, people had told him that he was nice to look at, usually when they wanted something. However, he was not in the same class as this boy.

With his platinum-blond hair, pink skin and laughing eyes, Peter was one very good-looking boy. He was very attractive – sexually attractive, like ripe fruit ready for the plucking. Riley wouldn’t mind doing the plucking.

He stood up close behind Peter, by the window. He put his head over his shoulder and pressed up against his back, moulding their bodies together. His hands slid around the boy’s slender waist and rested on the front of his shorts. His crotch pressed against the high, round and firm globes of the bubble-butt.

Kaimona Tales, Riley 2

Riley walked across the road, through the narrow, paved, rest-area/car-park, across the wooden foot bridge over the sluggish stream and up and over the bank to the beach.

It wasn’t much; there wasn’t even any sand, just gray pebbles fringing the long sweep of the bay. The ‘beach’ sloped steeply down to the water and, from the way the waves reared up and fell again, it looked like it got deep pretty quickly. There was more, bigger, surf in the distance to either side, so maybe it got shallower there.

There were a few big rocks sticking up out of the water here and there. They’d be great for surfboards to smash into. There were no whales or dolphins or seals in sight anywhere and the birds were just ordinary seagulls, far too small to be albatrosses.

To the north, his left, the beach went on forever, so he turned the other way and started along to where the bay curved around at the start of the peninsular. It was hard walking on the loose stones.

After the stream ran out to join the sea there was nothing but a low stone wall between the back of the beach and the road up there, so he went back over, scaling the wall.

There was a sealed sidewalk behind the wall and a grass strip between it and the road which ran parallel to the beach. A long line of Norfolk Pines grew between the sidewalk and the road. Across on the other side, buildings, houses now not shops, nestled between the road and the low cliffs behind them.

He continued walking along up there as it was much easier going now. The pines looked great, but they didn’t make much shade from the hot sun; their branches were too widely spaced for that.

Beyond a broken reef of flat-topped rocks, towards the end of the bay, the beach started improving. The waves were breaking further out and the beach was wider – with gray sand even! Would this be a suitable area for surfing? Maybe. There were people out there, swimming, anyway.

There was a naked boy, a teenager, stretched out, lying face-downwards, on the beach in the sunshine, just below the wall.

No. He wasn’t naked, of course he wasn’t. He had swimming trunks on, brief ones, but they were close to his flesh colour so they weren’t obvious at first glance.

There were two girls standing there, looking over the wall at the boy on the beach below them. They were not bad looking girls, if you liked girls, but, who did? Eww!

Well that was not quite right. Riley did like girls, as friends. Some of his best friends were girls – they used to be. But that was all they were, just friends. He wasn’t interested in anything else.

Anyway, these two seemed all right, they looked around and flashed big smiles at him as he approached.

Now was as good a time as any to start making friends with the locals. Who knew, maybe they’d have some hunky brothers? Riley beamed his best smile back at them.

“Hey Girls. Great day!”

“Everyday’s a great day in paradise,” the tall brunette replied. “Visitor, are you?”

“A visitor? Nah. I’m a local,” Riley smiled.

“Sure you are. Since when?”

“Since yesterday.”

“Oh. So you’re the new kid in the Craypot Café?”

“Yeah, I am. How d’you know that?”

“Girls know everything, don’t you know? No, actually, my mum works at the Foodmarket across the road from you. She watched you moving in yesterday and came home and told us all about the cute new boy in town.”

“Cute? Me? I think I love your mum already. It’s a small town, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, but it’s a great town. Where are you from?”

“From Pakuranga. You know it?”

“Pakuranga? Never heard of it, where’s that?”

“In Auckland. Have you heard of Auckland?”

“Dorkland? Yeah, we’ve heard of that.”

“Oh,” said the blond girl. “Shame, the cute new boy’s a Jafa.”

“A Jafa? I suppose I am. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course – Just Another Feckin’ Aucklander.”

“Something like that, yeah. Who’s that kid lying down there, do you know him?”

“Of course we know him. That’s Peter De Groot. The dork has gone to sleep lying out in the sun. He’s going to be so sore when he wakes up.”

“Well, shouldn’t you wake him up or something?”

“No way. Not our problem. The Dork is no friend of ours,” said the blonde.

“Yeah, let him burn,” the brunette agreed. “Might do him some good. Time we were out of here anyway. See you around, Jafa. What’s your name anyway?”

“Riley. What’s yours?”

“I’m Lynn Taylor. Blondie here is Deidre Ashton. Will you be going to school?”

“I guess so – year 11.”

“Cool, so are we. We’ll see you there. Enjoy your new town.”

“Yeah. ‘Bye Ladies.”

They walked away and Riley started walking again. After a few paces he glanced back over his shoulder and grinned – the girls were looking back at him. They grinned as well, waved and kept walking.

‘Cool. You can look, Ladies, but you can’t touch!’

Were the boys around here going to be friendly as well? He hoped so.

He stopped and looked back over the wall at the boy sleeping on the beach. He was a dork, was he? He was not a bad-looking dork, from what he could see – long and slender, blond hair and pinky-white skin. Ouch! He was very fair skinned. That meant he was going to be very burnt if he kept baking in the sunshine. Maybe Riley should wake him up?

It was none of his business, but he felt sorry for the kid. He could feel his hurt. Sunburn was not life-threatening, but it was a pain – a real pain. He knew what that was like.

There was a beach umbrella next to him, but it had fallen over and the shade was not anywhere near him. Well, except for his feet, they were in the shade, so at least they weren’t going to be burnt.

Riley had an idea and he scaled the wall and jumped down to the beach below. He wouldn’t wake the kid up, he didn’t know him and he might not appreciate it, but he could at least move the umbrella so that the shade was back over him. That’d be a nice thing to do, wouldn’t it? Riley was a great believer in karma – no good deed goes unpunished.

He approached quietly, gingerly lifted the umbrella and moved it forward, scooping a hole in the sand to stand it upright in. However, before he had finished securing it, an errant gust of wind toppled the umbrella and it fell sideways. Several of the rib-ends whacked down on to the back of the sleeping kid.

“Oww!” he sat up and glared at the embarrassed Riley. “What are you doing? That flaming hurt!”

“Oh damm. Oh, damm. I’m sorry, it was an accident. I was trying to move it and the wind caught it.”

“Why would you do that? You could’ve just left it alone.”

“I’m sorry! I was trying to help you, okay?”

“Help me? Gee, thanks. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig here.”

The boy felt around on his back and brought his hand around to inspect the blood on his fingertips. Riley sat back and watched in utter dismay. His good deed had turned out so wrong. How could he fix this?

As even he sat there totally embarrassed, (was there a worse way to meet someone?),
he couldn’t help noticing that this was a seriously good-looking kid. He might be a dork, but he was gorgeous!

The kid had yellow-blond hair and he was very fair, his skin was pink. His eyes were stunning, clear, pale blue and big too. The outstanding thing about him was that he looked so, well – clean. Of course he was clean, he’d just been swimming hadn’t he? But that wasn’t it, he just had an air of cleanness, innocence and purity about him, like a wide-eyed little kid.

“Why would you move my brolly? Were you stealing it?”

“No. No, of course not. It had fallen over; I was just trying to stand it up again.”

“But why?”

“Because, well I wanted to put it back over you. You were lying there in the sun and getting burnt.”

“I was, wasn’t I? Oh man! Am I burnt! That was nice of you, - thanks.”

(He had a cute smile too.)

“You’re welcome. Sorry I hurt you.”

“Not as sorry as I am though.”

Now they were both smiling at each other. That was good, wasn’t it?

Riley scooped the hole out again and stood the umbrella up in it, packing the sand around it to, hopefully, hold it upright this time. The boy sat quietly watching him.
“What are you doing?”

“Obvious isn’t it? I’m standing it up again. You’re still getting burnt.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Welcome. Just scoot over into the shade now and let me have a look at your back.”

“My back? What would you want to do that for?”

“Well you’re bleeding, aren’t you? I want to see what I’ve done to you.”

“Okay, you can look but don’t touch.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” (But he would!).

The boy turned to face away from him and showed his back – his poor, injured, bleeding and burnt back to Riley’s anxious gaze. It was beautiful and he longed to touch it. He wanted to run is hands, his fingers and his lips all over that soft, warm, pink skin. He wanted to lie his face against it and listen to his heartbeat, to feel the life in this beautiful boy.

He wanted to stretch-out and lie, naked, cushioned on this perfect young back.

His face moved closer and closer until he could feel the heat rising from it and he quietly kissed the air millimeters away from the living skin.

“Well? How does it look?” The boy asked impatiently.

“Great! No . . well, I mean . . good.”

Riley shook his head, trying to pull himself together. He was drifting off there. He was hard too, as hard as steel. Damm! This boy was sexy. He’d never wanted to be with someone so much in his life.

‘Shut up, Riley. Get your shit together!’

This was not just a sex-toy here – an object for his lust. This was a boy, a living, breathing and bleeding boy and he was bleeding because Riley had injured him.

It was an accident, but he was so sorry. He felt like he’d broken a work of art. Damm.

“It’s, ah . . it’s not too bad. There’s just two holes – two puncture holes. One’s up nearly between your shoulders, (and what fine young shoulders they were!). The other one’s lower down. It’s the bottom one that’s bleeding the most. You need a puncture-repair patch.

There’s blood all over you and you’re so burnt. You should have been wearing sunscreen.”

“Should’ve, but I wasn’t. I was not planning on going to sleep. My mother’s going to freak.”

“Do you think?”

“You’ve got no idea. My mother is very good at worrying; it’s what she does best.”

“You could come back to my place – we’ll clean you up and put a couple of plasters on you. They’re only little holes.”

“They’re big enough to bleed. Where do you live? I’ve never seen you around.”

“We just arrived yesterday. My mum has bought the Craypot Café, down the main street.”

“The main street? I’m not parading through the town with next-to no clothes on. No, I’ll just go home. We live back over the road there.”

“You’ve got a good body, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a hot day and lots of people are getting around with not much on.”

“Yeah? And are they covered in blood too?”

“No, probably not. Tell you what, why don’t you get back in the sea for a minute? That’ll wash the blood off you and clean you up.”

“I suppose I should. But that’s going to sting isn’t it?”

“Probably, but it’ll only be for a minute. It might help to heal you up too. Sea-water is supposed to be good for cuts and for burns too. It might help the sunburn as well.”

The boy twisted his head around, trying to look at his back.

“It’s worth a try, I guess. I really am burnt back there, aren’t I?”

“Like a lobster! Or, a crayfish I suppose.”

“A crayfish? I guess you’d know, living in the Craypot Café.”

“I just live there. It’s Mum’s café really. So, are you going to do it?”

“I’m doing it.” He stood up and brushed some sand off. “Are you coming with me?”

“No I’m not. I’ve got no swimming-trunks and I’m not swimming in the nuddie in the middle of the town.”

“Why not? It might impress the locals.”

“I’m sure it would, but I’m not going to. I’ll just wait here for you.”

“No nude show then? Okay, I’m doing it – won’t take a minute.”

The, (very pink), boy ran the few steps down the small beach and plunged into the water. “Whoah!”

Riley sat hugging his knees and hiding his boner while he watched him. What sort of boy wears flesh-coloured speedos? He really did look like he was naked out there.

‘No, dammit! Look at something else. Think about something else, anything else. Gumboots! Cow-pats! Hairs sprouting from old ladies’ chins.’

He so wished that he wasn’t wearing these tight jeans and t-shirt. He wore them, of course, to show off his trim body, but at the moment, the minute he stood up he’d be showing off way too much!

The kid came back up the beach and swung his butt in Riley’s face; which didn’t help his problem.

“Well? Has that washed the blood off?”

“Yeah, it has. That’s much better. Maybe you’d better go home and put some patches on your back now.”

“I will. Are you coming with me? It’s just back across the road there.”

“You want me to come with you?”

Riley leapt to his feet and he forgot about his problem down there. The boy’s eyes definitely lingered in his groin area and he smiled at him.

“You’re not feeling faint or something, are you?”

“No, I’m fine,” the boy smiled. “Really, I am. It’s just that if you’re with me my mother won’t make such a huge fuss about my being injured.”

“Okay, sure. I owe you that much. I’ll tell your mum that it was my fault and I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It was just an accident.”

“It was, but it was still my stupid fault that it happened.”

“Okay, whatever. Let’s go then. You could carry the umbrella if you like.” (His eyes flicked back to Riley’s problem area, and he kept smiling.).

Actually, it looked like he was developing a problem of his own. But he scooped his clothes up and held them, with the towel, in front of him. “Coming?”

“I’m coming, for a few minutes anyway.”

Riley stood up and they walked, together, up the stone steps at the back of the beach and across the sidewalk and road to the houses over there.

“We haven’t been introduced. You’re Peter De Groot, I’m Riley Sullivan.”

“Hello Riley Sullivan. How do you know my name?”

“A couple of girls told me, when you were sleeping back there.”

“Oh, okay. Nice to meet you anyway.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too, I think.”

Kaimoana Tales, Riley 1

She called him ‘Virgil’, so that was his name – Virgil Something.

He was a nice-looking kid. About 14 or 15, straight, dark-brown, well-styled hair with the fringe falling across his eyes. He was constantly brushing the fringe away with his fingertips or flicking his head in a circular motion to clear the eyes. They were friendly, sparkling, blue eyes with just a hint of mischief.

His skin was clear, smooth and soft-looking. It could’ve done with a bit of tan though. The lips were full, red and smiling, showing strong white teeth. The figure, as far as he could tell, was slight and slender – a runner’s build with long limbs. The hands were small but with long, slender fingers – artist’s hands.

Altogether, it was a nicely put together package and definitely worth a second look or two. A nice-looking kid.

There was something more too; some indefinable air about him. Riley didn’t know how he knew, but he knew that the boy he was looking at was gay, no doubt about it. Maybe this was the much-vaunted gaydar kicking in at last?

Not that it mattered, his days of searching for someone and looking for love were over. He’d found it and he was happy with Jacob – more than happy. What he had now was better than he’d ever dreamed of and he’d never do anything to risk losing it.

He could still look though, couldn’t he? The boy was checking him out too, he knew that. He straightened a little and he smiled back at him. He was a good-looking kid. He looked, nice.

Riley sighed and tore himself away, leaving the boy and the woman with him, (a sister?), with their meals out on the balcony. He went back inside to clear a couple of vacated tables. He was meant to be working here, he wasn’t being paid to stand around admiring the customers.

Lots of eye-candy came through here. They came, they ate, paid and left and were never seen again. Shame really. He wouldn’t mind getting to know this boy. Only as a friend, but friends were good, especially if they were gay – like Peter.

Peter was gay and he was a good friend. Riley had had hopes in that direction for a while, but that was before Jacob, and they were hopeless hopes anyway. Peter was, always had been and maybe always would be, totally, hopelessly in love with someone who would never love him. And he knew it.

Relationships could be such a pain! Poor Peter. Riley’s heart ached for his friend every time he thought about it. He wished that he could do something for him. In an ideal world, someone like that boy out there would come into town and Peter would fall for him and forget his impossible dream.

That wasn’t going to happen, but Peter deserved someone. He was a really great kid and Riley loved him, as a friend.

He wiped the tables, straightened the seats and took the empties back to the kitchen to carry on cleaning up out there. The business day would be over soon; the sooner the better. Then he’d be able to escape up the stairs and to the arms of the beautiful boy who was up there waiting for him.

Life was good, it was great actually, but it hadn’t always been like that. As he worked, Riley’s mind wandered back to the beginning – his first day here in Kaimoana. It seemed like years ago, but it was only a few months – a few busy months.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Riley helped himself to a coffee; he took it outside and sat at a table on the wooden deck, in the sunshine, where he could sit and survey the main street, the central business district, of his new town – his new little town.

Damm, it was small! This whole area, every shop, every business, could have been fitted in to any mall in any decent-sized city; and left room to spare. Riley was a city-boy, born and bred. The city was where he belonged, but – no. Thanks to his parents’ total inability to get along together, he was doomed to live here – in Tiny Town.

Two cars went past in the street, heading north, and a van went past the other way. Rush hour?

So, this was it. This was where his life was going to be from now on – for the next couple of years anyway. And what did he have here? He unfolded the pages that he’d printed off from the ‘net, and sat reading them, again.

Page 1. “Only slightly larger than Java, the vast South Island of New Zealand hosts a population of barely one million mainly British-descended inhabitants who, in less than two centuries, have transformed the land into a vast luxuriant pasture, delivering some of the world’s best dairy products.

On the rugged eastern shore, nestled snugly in a sheltered cove on its namesake peninsula is the tiny fishing village of Kaimoana. The vast South Island of New Zealand is dotted with these little treasures – otherwise inconspicuous spots on a sparse map characterised by varicose mountain ranges and dizzying, snow-dusted fjords.

For countless thousands of years, Kaimoana kept a deep secret – a very deep secret. But now the word is out. Only a few hundred metres off shore, the seabed rapidly plunges into a massive submarine canyon well over a kilometre deep. When warm tropical currents flowing southward crash head-on into the cold Antarctic stream heading north, a swirling mass of nutrient-rich water is sucked up from the depths. This marine smorgasbord attracts an array of aquatic mammals, fish, birds and now, tourists.

Other nature-based activities include bushwalking (or ‘tramping’, to use the local vernacular), dolphin swimming, bird watching, surfing, diving, fishing, horse-riding, golf, caving and even local winery tours.

While the Ngati Kuri people have excelled in delivering natural and cultural experiences, the more recently arrived European community have seized the advantage with top quality accommodation and restaurants. While numerous comfortable backpacker hostels cater to the young nomadic types, there also exists a range of quality B&Bs scattered throughout town. Down along the beachfront is a further array of lodging options ranging from motel-style, bungalows and cabins to swank boutique lodges and apartments.

Dining options are likewise numerous with New Zealand’s world-famous cuisine on show at even the most humble café. Whether it is a simple bowl of hearty clam chowder or a more genteel repast, the hardest part will be choosing. For a community of just 3,000 residents, Kaimoana can stand tall as an example of responsible, enriching tourism that treads lightly on the land it so relies upon. And as you gaze in awe at the spectacular scenery and all its surrounding riches, you can feel the earth smile back.”

Page 2. “Kaimoana is a town on the east coast of the South Island of New Zealand. It is located on State Highway 1 north of Christchurch.

Kaimoana became the first local authority to reach the Green Globe tourism certification standard.

According to the latest, the permanent resident population is 2,172, a 2.03% decrease since the 1996 census. The town is the governmental seat of the territorial authority of the Kaimoana District, which is geographically a part of the Canterbury Region. The District has a land area of 2,046.41 km² (790.12 sq mi) and a 2006 census population of 3,621 inhabitants.

The Kaimoana Peninsular extends into the sea south of the town, and the resulting upwelling currents bring an abundance of marine life from the depths of the nearby Hikurangi Trench. The town owes its origin to this effect, since it developed as a centre for the whaling industry. The name 'Kaimoana' translates to 'food of the sea' ('kai'- food/meal, 'moana – sea’) and the crayfish industry still plays a role in the economy of the region. However Kaimoana has now become a popular tourist destination, mainly for whale watching (the Sperm Whale watching is perhaps the best and most developed in the world) and swimming with or near dolphins. There is also a large and readily observed colony of Southern Fur Seals at the eastern edge of the town. At low tide, better viewing of the seals can be had as the ocean gives way to a rocky base which is easily navigable by foot for quite some distance.

It is also one of the best reasonably accessible places in the world to see open ocean seabirds such as albatrosses.

While technically not part of Marlborough, the town boasts the southernmost winery of the Marlborough region.

The town has a strikingly beautiful setting, as the Seaward Kaimoana mountains, a branch of the Southern Alps come nearly to the sea at this point on the coast. Because of this, there are many walking tracks up and through the mountains. A common one for tourists is the Mt. Fife track, which winds up Mt. Fife, and gives a panoramic view of the Kaimoana peninsula from the summit.

The town is on State Highway One and the northern section of the South Island Main Trunk Railway. The town is served by the Tranzcoastal long-distance passenger train. Kaimoana also has a small, sealed airstrip located 6 Km to the south of the main centre. The Kaimoana airstrip is mainly used for whale spotting tourist flights. It can also be used by small private and charter flights. It is also used five days a week for return flights to Wellington by Sounds Air.

Page 3. “Welcome to Kaimoana.”

‘You’re welcome to it too, Mate! Yadda, yadda, yadda.’

It was a beautiful setting for a town, he couldn’t deny that. Lush, green pastures on the small farms, backed by the bush-clad hills with the white-snow capped Southern Alps rearing up behind them. The Pacific Ocean lay just across the road, the wide, blue bay framed by the hills. At least it was blue on this sunny day with a few white-caps lazily rolling in. The town was, mostly, squashed in between a ridge of low hills and the sea. The main North-South highway and the railway line, (on a viaduct), crossed the end of the main street and curved around to run, north, at the back of the beaches.

He’d checked it out on Google Maps as well. There were a lot of photos attached, so it looked like his mother was right, it was a popular place for tourists. Well, whoop-de-doo! Good for them.

It was all very well for the tourists, they just came here, admired the scenery, looked at the wildlife – the whales, dolphins and seals etc, and then they moved on. They didn’t have to live here, in the middle of nowhere. What the hell did the locals do after they’d finished admiring their surroundings? Nothing?

There was plenty of eating places, a handful of pubs and various accomodation, but no night clubs or anything.

You could go fishing, he supposed, if you liked killing things, but he did not. He was not into that at all. What did that character in the Lord of the Rings say? “If you can’t give life, then you’ve got no right to take it.”

Fair enough too. (Best character in the book and they missed him out of the movies!).

So, of course, his mother was now going to earn their living by selling dead things. She’d bought a fish restaurant/café here in the main street of Kaimoana.

They were going to be living in the owner’s accommodation out the back – just her and Riley. His father didn’t live with them anymore. He wasn’t welcome and he didn’t want to anyway; he was now living with his new boyfriend. Dammit!

That so did not make it easy for Riley. How was he ever going to tell his mother that he was gay as well? She’d freak, he just knew it. She didn’t handle the news of her husband’s being gay, how was she ever going to accept that her son was as well? He didn’t know.

Living with his father was not an option, they didn’t get on, they never had. Too much alike maybe?

So his parents had split up, the family home, in Pakuranga, Auckland, was sold , for a very good price, the spoils divided, and now they were going to live here – in Tiny Town!

Still, he supposed he shouldn’t complain too much. It could’ve been worse, at least they hadn’t finished up living on the West Coast. His mother had considered buying a café in one of the towns over there, in Westpoint. He was so glad that she’d decided against that and bought here instead.

The West Coast towns were miles away from anywhere, it never stopped raining there, and the people – the ‘Coasters’ – were all bloody mad! ‘Feral Inbreds’ the Prime Minister had once referred to them as.

That was not nice. She shouldn’t have done that. People joked and scoffed at the Coasters all the time, but the Prime Minister shouldn’t do it. They were part of her country – just part of it.

Riley sighed, packed up his stuff and went for a walk over to the beach to see what he would see.

Just Sum Pics

Wills at 10

Wills

Dills

Kaimoana Peninsular & Town

Mountains to Sea

Downtown

Crayfish

Shorts

Back in Westpoint, Great-Uncle Martin McAlpine died. He was a quiet, private man; he never married so he had no children. His estate, such as it was, was left to Danny’s mother. She was his niece and she was the only one mentioned in the will.

Danny thought that the funeral was the saddest thing he’d ever seen; there wasn’t even a dozen people there. He hoped that there’d be more at his own funeral. He also hoped that it wouldn’t be for a long, long time – it should be, he was only 14 years old.

The following day, he went with his parents and brothers to empty-out the old man’s apartment. Not the nicest of jobs, but it had to be done.

“Have a good look around and choose anything that you want. What we can’t use, we’ll sell or give to the Sallie Army; they’ll make good use of it.”

“I wonder if he’s got any porn?” Donny leered.

“Don’t be stupid, he was an old man,” Denny scoffed. “Besides, if he did, it’d be queer stuff.”

“Yeah, probably. He was an old poof, wasn’t he?”

“So they say, and – eww!”

“Yeah, yuck!”

Danny sighed, rolled his eyes, and went through to the other room to get away from his bigot brothers. Sometimes he wondered about those two – they protested too much. They were very different for twins, but they were always totally united in being nasty about gays. One of these days, they were in for a big surprise – not today though.

The old man’s bedroom. It was a big bed for just one person. He must’ve been lonely in there. The room was very tidy; there was not a thing out of place. Definitely not a boy’s bedroom!

There was a big picture, on the end wall, away from the bed – a painting. It was a picture of a slender, blond-haired boy, in a park somewhere. Green grass, blue sky, and a laughing boy leaping as he reached for a multi-coloured beach-ball.

He looked familiar. Danny stood looking at it, and then it struck him.

“Whoah! That’s me. What’s a picture of me doing in Uncle Martin’s bedroom?”

The picture was not porn, but it was not far from it – a few less centimeters on the skimpy light-blue shorts the boy was wearing and it would’ve been. He had nothing else on, except for a smile.

Danny went out to the kitchen to get his mother. She knew the old man, he didn’t, he couldn’t remember ever meeting him.

“Mum, come and look at this!”

“Come and look at what? I’m busy here, Daniel.” She grumbled, but she came anyway.

They went back to the bedroom. “Well, what’ve you got? Something that you want?”

“I don’t know if I want it, but look at that picture there.”

“Picture? Oh, that picture.”

“Mum? What was he doing with a painting of me, a nearly-nude painting, in his bedroom?”

“Oh, I see,” she laughed. “That’s not you, Son. That’s him – your great-uncle Martin, way back when he was a boy. But you’re right, it surely does look like you, doesn’t it? He was a fine-looking boy, just like you are.”

“That’s him – the old man? Damm, it must’ve been a long time ago.”

“Yes it was. A very long time. There’s boy inside every man, you know. A boy wondering what the hell happened? One day, if you’re lucky, you’ll be old too.”

“That’d be bad enough, but I don’t want to be all alone like he was. Was he gay, Mum?”

“Apparently, yes. But I never saw him with anyone; he was always alone.”

A single tear slid down his smooth cheek.

“Mum,” he whispered. “I’m gay too.”

“Oh, Sweetheart!” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Of course you are. I’ve always known that.”

“You have?” He pulled back to look at her. “How did you know that?”

“Danny, I’m your mother. I knew you before you even knew yourself. It doesn’t matter. I still love you; I always will.”

“Denny and Donny won’t like it.”

“Well, tough! Your brothers are a pair of ignorant apes. They deserve each other. Don’t worry about them.”

“I won’t. Thanks, Mum. I love you too.”

“You’d bloody better! Do you want the painting? I think you should take it.”

“I don’t know. It makes me sad.”

“Sad? Why would it? It’s just a laughing boy.”

“He was like me. I don’t want to finish-up all alone like him.”

“Don’t then. Times have changed; it doesn’t have to be for you like it was for him. You can take a different road. Take the painting home and hang it in your room so that, when you look at it, you’ll be determined never to lose the laughter.

You can’t see it, but he wasn’t alone there. Someone threw the ball and someone took the picture.”

“I will! I’ll do that. Thanks, Mum, you’re greatest. What do you think Dad’s going to say?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? He’s standing right behind you.”

“He is?” Danny spun around. “He is! Dad?”

His father said nothing, he just smiled and opened his arms. Danny flew at him and they hugged a long time.

“Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mum. Have I got great parents, or what? I love you both.”

Danny cried. He sighed, rolled over and woke-up shivering.

‘Damm! Just another dream. Talk about your dreams and wishes!’

He lay there and sobbed silently. Why couldn’t his parents have really been like that? Why couldn’t they have loved their youngest son, even after they knew he was gay?

Did anyone really have parents like that? He certainly didn’t. At least he’d found out where Donny and Denny got their attitudes from.

“Fuck ‘em anyway. They don’t need me and I don’t need them either.”

He reached behind him, pulled the duvet over, and then rolled back into his Boy’s warm embrace.

Kaimoana Tales, Dylan 7

(This is the last of Wills & Dills – for now.)

They got back to Brodie’s place; all Dylan wanted to do was to go home, get his mother’s car and drive around to the north end of the track to meet the walkers. But, he decided that he’d better not; the last thing he wanted to do was to upset the boy again.

Besides, Brodie’s mum was baking and there were delicious smells coming out of the kitchen. He could wait a while.

He went with Brodie to his room. There was a great new on-line game that Brodie wanted to show him. When Mrs. Hilliard came in with a plate of goodies for them, she commented.

“You’re looking different, Dylan. What’ve you done now?”

“Done?” he replied. “I haven’t done anything. Oh. It must be the hair. I got caught in the rain the other night and the dye washed out.”

“Yes, that’s it. Are you going to dye it again?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I might just leave it.”

“You should go blond,” Brodie grinned. “That’d shock ‘em.”

“You should just leave it,” Mrs. Hilliard said. “That would shock them if you showed your natural self. Well, enjoy the cookies, Boys.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H. and, yeah, I might leave it.”

“If you’re going natural,” Brodie said. “Get rid of the bloody studs as well.”

“I think not. That’d be going too far. Wish I could have a tat tho.”

“I’ll tattoo you, no trouble.”

“There’d be big trouble when I got home, if you did. That won’t be happening.”

“Probably wise.”

“Yeah.”

Dylan wondered how William would feel about facial tattoos and lip-rings? He’d have to ask him. He wasn’t sure why, but what he thought seemed important somehow.

William and Emmy had a great time, slowly making their way along the small, rocky, bays around the peninsular. They took their time, walking carefully on the greasy rocks and exploring in the rock-pools.

He was enjoying his sister’s company. It was funny though, he kind-of wished that he hadn’t been so insistent that Dylan couldn’t come with them. He was missing him already.

When he mentioned Dylan’s name for the umpteenth time, Emmy had to comment. “Damm, Wills. Can’t you forget about Dylan for 5 minutes? What’s going on with you two anyway?”

“Nothing’s going on. Dills is my friend now, that’s all. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Dylan is great.”

“Does he know that you’re gay?”

“What? Who says that I’m gay?”

“Come on, Wills. I’m your sister; I’ve known that for ages.”

“And you don’t mind? You’ve never said anything before.”

“I don’t mind. You’re still my baby brother, you always will be. It just never seemed to be important before.”

“So, why is it now?”

“Because, I think you’re falling in love. It’s okay by me, Wills. You could do a lot worse that Dylan. He’s a good guy and I like him too.”

“Sheesh, Emmy! We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, right! Sure you are. Stop thinking about him then.”

How do you stop thinking about somebody? Especially when you don’t want to? Maybe Emmy was right. Maybe he was falling in love with his hunky cousin? He didn’t know; he’d never been in love before. He didn’t think that Dylan was feeling the same way, anyway. They were just friends, good friends. He didn’t want to lose that. Again. Ever.

He wondered what he was doing now?

They were both quietly disappointed that Dylan wasn’t there waiting for them at the end of the track. They walked home, on the road, around the bays and through the town. It was a good day, even if Dills wasn’t there with them.

Dylan and Brodie went swimming for a couple of hours, at the town baths on the Esplanade. Mostly though, they just hung around on the surrounding seats and socialized. There was a lot of young, bare flesh on display, but Dylan wasn’t very interested.

Did William like swimming? He wondered if he wore speedos? That’d be a sight!

He had a shower as soon as he got home. He stunk of chlorine from the pool. They put far too much of it in there. If only the bleedin’ kids would stop pissing in the pool, they wouldn’t have to. He’d be worried if he was keeping the dye in his hair, but he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

William wasn’t there when he came out of the bathroom. He’d gone with his mother to pick up takeaways for dinner. Dylan hoped that they weren’t getting fish and chips. Too much fish was too much.

They didn’t get fish and chips, they got Billy’s Burgers, which was good. They also arrived home with a couple of DVD movies – one for the kids and one for the adults. There was nothing worth watching on the TV. Again.

Dylan wondered which movie he and Wills would be watching?

As it turned out, they didn’t see either of them. William had something else that he wanted him to see. They went to their room and William put a DVD on the player in there.

They settled down, on their separate beds, to watch it. There were several short films on the disc. William selected the one he wanted.

“What’s the big mystery, Wills? What’ve you got there?”

“No mystery, just watch this. This is a movie that I was in, a few years ago.”

“You were in a movie? Oh, yeah. I did hear that once. Gramma told me. I’ve never seen it though.”

“Well, now you can. I haven’t watched this in ages. Gramma was my biggest fan. She was my only fan.”

“I’ll be your fan, Wills.”

“Maybe you will. Maybe you’ll hate it. Just don’t laugh at me, okay?”

“I’d never do that.”

The film started and Dylan was riveted to the screen. A real, professional movie with his own cousin in it! And, there was Wills, with a huge mop of very blond hair. Oh Boy! He was so young. Cute too.

It was funny, he knew that they were just acting, but he was jealous of the boys with Wills. Funny. He wanted Wills to make friends with kids his own age, he needed friends. But, how was he going to handle seeing him with other boys? Damm!

These boys were kinda cute too, especially the Maori boy.

“That’s Cody,” William said. “He’s the boy who taught me about sex.”

Wow. Dylan hated him now. “That’s the kid you had sex with?”

“Yeah, I fucked him and he fucked me.”

“When you were 10! Did you love him, Wills?”

“No, I didn’t love him. It was just sex. It was an adventure and it was fun.”

“I’ll bet it was!”

As long as Cody was on the screen, Dylan glared at him and hated him and imagined him and Wills in bed together. After he’d gone, fled from the scene, Dylan forgot about him and became engrossed in the story.

The movie finished. William stopped the disc and turned the TV off. They both sat quietly, thinking.

“Dills? Did you like it?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“No, I loved it. It was great, Wills. Really great.”

“Oh, good! That was important to me. I love you, Dylan.”

“Wills! We can’t, Wills. We just can’t!”

“I don’t care if we can or not. I’m in love with you, that’s all I know.”

“In love with me? Oh shit, Wills!”

Dylan sat on the edge of his bed, he bent his head forward and burst into tears, crying into his lap.

“Dylan? Dills?” William knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry, Dills. Don’t. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

Dylan lifted his head and looked him in the eye. William was crying now as well. He tried, but failed, to smile.

“What are you sorry for? You’re beautiful, Wills. You’re more than beautiful, you’re perfect. Beyond perfect. You look pretty good too.”

He did manage a grin now.

“I shouldn’t, but I do. I can’t help it. I love you, William Scott. I love you so much it hurts!”

“Oh, thank you, Dills! Don’t hurt. You don’t have to; just love me like I love you.”

He kissed him.

Dylan held back. He didn’t respond or return the kiss, but he didn’t stop him – he couldn’t. William came up from his knees on the floor, still with their mouths fused together, and he pushed him back so that he lay back across the bed with William on top of him.

Dylan still didn’t react, until William’s lips left his and slid down to nuzzle his neck. He whispered, “Love me, Dills. Make love to me.” And he started grinding against him, humping him through their clothes.

Now Dylan responded and he pushed him off with an anguished groan. “William! Wills, don’t. Please don’t do this – we can’t, we just can’t!”

“We bloody can so!”

William got back to his feet, whipped his t-shirt over his head, dropped his shorts and briefs to the floor and stood before him in all his naked, erect, glory. Dylan forced himself to look away.

“Look at me, Dylan James! Look at me and tell me that you don’t want me.”

Dylan looked at him, at his pleading face, and he cried. Tears rolled down his face. This was the most wonderful, beautiful boy he’d ever known, standing there naked, wanting him. He loved him so much and he did want him – he wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“Wills, we can’t! We are family. We are cousins.”

“So? I love you and you love me.”

“I do; I love you very much and, yes, I do want you – but we still can’t. You’re too young.”

“I’m not too young. I’m not! I wasn’t 3 years ago and I’m not now. I know what I want, Dylan. I want you. If you won’t give it to me, then I’ll find someone else who will.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I bloody would! But I’d rather be with you.”

William leaned over and kissed him again. Dylan’s hands came up to push him away, but the second he touched his bare shoulders, he was lost, he couldn’t do it. He loved this boy, that was all he knew.

He slid his arms around him and kissed him passionately. He lay back again and pulled the naked, beautiful, boy over on top of him.

And, they kissed.

Kaimoana Tales, Dylan 6

Next morning, they woke, both feeling awkward, but a couple of grins soon got rid of that. They got up, dressed, and had breakfast in the busy kitchen. Sarah wanted to know what they did last night?

“We went to the movies and saw Indiana Jones,” William replied. “It was raining and it was something to do.”

“We did, and it was great,” Dylan added. “It didn’t work though, it was still raining when we came out and we got soaked walking home.”

“Oh, Boys! Why didn’t you ring me? I would’ve come and got you.”

“You would?” Dylan turned to William with a grin. “Want to swap mothers, Wills?”

“Watch it, Dylan James.” His own mother slapped him with a wet dish-cloth. “I’m your mother, whether you like it or not. Don’t answer that!”

“What are your plans for today?” Sarah smiled and changed the subject.

“Not a lot,” Dylan said. “It’s Sunday. That’s my day of rest.”

“Every day is your day of rest,” said his father. “You could come with us. Paul and I are going out to get some firewood and we could do with a couple of strong young backs to help us.”

“Aw, Dad! I’m sure we had something else to do.”

“And I’m sure you didn’t. You’re coming with us.”

Paul agreed. “Sounds good to me. Wills, you’re coming too.”

“Yeah, okay, Dad.” William was in a co-operative mood for once.

Paul’s eyebrows raised. On the way out, he collared Dylan and pulled him aside.

“Dylan, a word with you, please.”

“Oh?” Dylan was instantly nervous, although he didn’t know why.

“Yes,” Paul smiled. “I don’t know what you’re doing with William, but please keep it up. He’s happy. I like it.”

As it turned out, Dylan and William didn’t go with their fathers. Ray and Norm arrived, just in the nick of time, and they finished up going instead. They’d both had their orders and their wives wanted firewood. There was no room in the truck for everybody, so the men went and Dylan and William were free.

They were sitting talking in the barbeque area in the back-yard when Emmy came out.

“Wills, the weather’s looking okay now. Are we still going to do it today?”

He looked up at the patchy blue sky. “Yeah, why not? It should be fine, but we’ll take jackets just in case.”

“Jackets?” Dylan queried. “Where are we going?”

Emmy answered. “We’re going to do the Peninsular Walk, from South Bay around to the seal colony at the north end, and home by the road.”

“Sounds good,” Dylan said.

“It does,” said William. “But you’re not invited.”

“I’m not?”

“You’re not. I’m going to spend some time with my sister and two’s company, three’s a crowd. You’re not coming with us.”

“But . . . why can’t I come too? I’m family, aren’t I?”

“Of course you’re family, Dills, but not today. This is just for Emmy and I; but if you’d drive us out to the start of the track, that’d be cool.”

“But I want to come. Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“Not today. Dylan, you gave me the whole day yesterday, and the night too. Tomorrow we can spend time together, and maybe tonight too. Today I’m going to be with Emmy. Go and see Brodie or Joyce or someone. You need to see your friends, Dills.”

“Oh. Now I see what this is about. I’d rather be with my best friend, Wills.”

“Well you can’t. Not today. You’ve got a life, Dills, don’t give it up for me.”

“But I want to!”

“Well you’re not.”

“The track’s public property. You can’t stop me from being there.”

“Fine then. You go and do the Peninsular Walk. Take a friend with you because we won’t be there. We’ll go and do something else.”

“You can be a stubborn little swine, William Scott.”

“Stubborn is my second name.”

“If it’s not, it should be.”

“Go and see your mates, Dills.”

What could have grown into an argument didn’t, because Brodie arrived. He came out from the house.

“Hey Dylan.”

“Hey Brodie.”

“You doing anything? Dad took a group, shooting bunnies, up the Kowhai yesterday. One of the bikes broke down and he wants me to go and recover it. I could do with some company.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dylan sighed. “But be honest, it’s not my company you want, it’s my muscles.”

“Yeah, well, that too. I can’t get the damm thing up on the truck by myself.”

“That’s more like it. Okay, let’s do it.”

Dylan stood up, then paused. “You know my cousins, Brodie? That’s Emmy and that’s William.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen Emmy around. Hey Guys.”

“Hey Brodie.”

“Hey.”

Brodie turned and grinned at Dylan. “Were you adopted, or were they?”

“Whatd’ya mean? Nobody was adopted.”

“Yeah? Somebody must’ve been. You can’t really be related to a couple of good-looking kids like these two.”

“Shut up, Hilliard!” Dylan growled.

“Yeah, shut it, Brodie,” William said. “There’s nothing wrong with how Dylan looks.”

“Nothing that a bag over his head wouldn’t fix,” Brodie grinned.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dylan frowned. “Hey! I know. Why don’t Wills and Emmy come with us? It’s a double-cab ute, so there’s lots of room. Come with us, guys. You could help load the bike up too.”

“That sounds okay,” Emmy said.

“William disagreed. “No, forget it. We’re going walking and you and Brodie can go and do your thing.”

“Well, I thought it was a good idea,” Dylan said. “Come with us anyway. Brodie will drop you off at South Bay. Won’t you, My Friend?”

“At South Bay?” Brodie queried.

“Yeah,” William replied. “Emmy and I are doing the Peninsular Walk.”

“Okay, sure. Are we going?”

Dylan, Emmy and William grabbed jackets, put their sneakers on and went out to where Brodie was waiting in the truck. Emmy had a small backpack with a picnic lunch and water bottles.

Dylan got into the front passenger’s seat, the others got in the back and Brodie drove them out to South Bay and dropped them off at the start of the track.

They thanked him as they got out, and said, “Laters.”

“Okay, Guys,” Dylan replied. “Have a good day and don’t do anything stupid. If you’re not home when I get back, I’ll drive around to the north end of the track.”

“Thanks, Dills,” William said. “Thanks, but don’t bother. We can walk that far, it won’t kill us. ‘Bye Guys.”

Dylan and Brodie went off to the Kowhai River to retrieve the broken-down 4 wheel, ATV bike, and William and Emmy started off on the track.

It was a rough ride along the rough track up the stony, braided, Kowhai River. Dylan got his feet wet when his dumb-ass mate plunged through a far-too-deep section of the river.

“Damm, Brodie. It’s not a boat!”

“You’re lucky it didn’t stall, or it would’ve been.”

When they reached the bike, they didn’t have much hope, but they checked it over anyway. Dylan found a loose wire, they reconnected it and the bike started, no trouble at all.

Brodie flipped a coin. Dylan made the call, and lost, so he drove the truck while Brodie rode the bike back to town. That was easier, and more fun, than hauling the big, heavy thing up onto the deck of the utility.

When they were on the highway, heading into town, a police car passed them and Constable Lawry yelled, “Where’s your bloody helmet, Hilliard?”

But he didn’t stop, so that was all right.

Kaimoana Tales, Dylan 5

Everyone had fish for dinner, (there’s a surprise!), with mashed potatoes and gravy. After dinner, in order to avoid having to help clean up, Dylan and William went out for a walk. They figured that the girls could do it, that was only fair, they didn’t catch dinner.

Once they were down by the water-front, the weather, which had been threatening all day, crapped-out and it started raining – hard! They ran across the road to the nearest shelter, which happened to be outside the Mayfair Theater, the town’s small cinema.

“Hey, very cool.” William studied the posters in the glass-fronted cabinet. “They’re showing that new Indiana Jones film. Let’s go to the movies.”

“Sorry Wills, we can’t. I’ve got no money on me.”

“Not a problem. I’ve got my bankcard. Come on, Dills. Come to the movies with me.”

“Yeah. Okay, as long as you’re paying. Thanks.”

They went inside. The middle-aged lady behind the concessions counter moved over to the ticket sales area.

“Hello Boys. Great weather for ducks. Going to see Indiana are you?”

“We are.” He looked at the notice with the admission prices on it. “Two tickets please. One, umm, adult and one child.”

Dylan frowned. That was a reminder of the age-difference between them. He didn’t think much about it, William seemed like he was the same age, but he wasn’t.

“My pleasure.” She took two tickets from the big rolls in front of her and pushed them across. “That will be $13.50.”

“Fine. Oh, and can we have two ice-creams too, please? Do you want a coke, Dills?”

“No thanks. Just an ice-cream would be great. I’ll pay you back.”

“Shut up. You will not.” They exchanged grins.

“When you’re ready,” the lady smiled. “Is that one scoop or two for the ice-creams?”

“Two scoops each, please. What flavours have you got? I’d like lime if you’ve got it.”

“That’ll be another $6 then. You can have any flavour you like, as long as it’s vanilla. We don’t have anything else. But, you could have them dipped in chocolate for another 50 cents each.”

“Sounds good. We’ll have that then. That makes $20.50.”

“Yes. Call it an even $20, that saves messing around with change. This is a community run theater. We’re trying to make it an old-style experience. The prices are not old-fashioned though. We have to pay the bills.”

“Still seems cheap enough to me. $10 each for a night out, nothing wrong with that! Thank you.”

William looked around, he couldn’t see an Eftpos machine, so he pushed his card across the counter.

“What’s this? A bankcard? Sorry, Lovey. We don’t have Eftpos here, we can only take cash. Like I said, it’s an old-style experience.

“Oh. I’m sorry too. We haven’t got any cash. I guess we’ll have to give it a miss and come back another time. Sorry.”

“There’s no need for that. Just take your tickets and pop the money through the slot in the front door when you’re passing sometime.”

“Really? That’s great. Thanks!” William beamed; he didn’t want to go back out into the rain. When she moved across to get the ice-creams, he turned to Dylan.

“I don’t think we’re still in Kansas, Toto,” he grinned.

“No,” Dylan agreed. “There’s a lot to be said for living in a small town.”

“There is! I feel like I’ve wandered into an Enid Blyton story. I wonder if she’s got a dog named ‘timmy’?”

They went through to the auditorium. There were a few people in there, but not a lot. They were mostly strangers – tourists filling in an evening. Going to the movies was something to do on a rainy night in Kaimoana.

It was, as usual for Indie, a very cool movie, but the action-packed adventure and excitement was not conducive to cuddling in the dark. They didn’t do any of that; probably nobody did.

When they came out after the movie finished, it was still raining, even harder now. They stood, sheltering under the verandah roof and waited for the rain to stop. It didn’t, it just kept on raining.

“Oh, Blow this!” Dylan ran out of patience. “I think we should just go. We’ll get wet again, but we can dry-off when we get home. What d’you think?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” William replied. “We could be standing here, waiting, all night.”

They walked home in the rain. They were both cold and wet to the skin by the time they got there, but, after a couple of showers and vigorous rub-downs, they were soon warm and dry again. They went to bed.

Dylan turned off the light, and then realised that the moon was shining outside, the rain had stopped and the clouds were gone. “Wouldn’t that rock ya?”

“Yeah,” William shrugged. “Such is life. At least we’re here now, no harm done.”

They lay quietly, in their own beds, in the dark. William suddenly said, “Dills, why did we go to the movies?”

“Why? Well, it was raining and it was something to do. It was a good movie, I thought. You liked it, didn’t you?”

“Of course I liked it. It was great. But why did you go with me?”

“Because you were paying. No, seriously, because I wanted to. Why do you ask?”

“You spent the whole day with me, and then you spent the night too. You’ve got lots of friends, why are you spending all your time with me?”

“Because I like being with you. You’re my best friend, Wills. I mean that.”

“You’re mine too, but I don’t think you should cut everyone else off. You’ll lose your other friends.”

“No I won’t, not if they’re real friends. If I do, so what? I’d rather be with you.”

“If you do, you’ll be like me and have no other friends.”

“I’ll still have a best friend though I don’t care about anything else.”

“Ah, Dills. I’m not worth it, you know.”

“You bloody are so!”

“Dylan, are you screwing with anyone?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you screwing – having sex with anyone?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I thought not. Are you a virgin, Dills?”

“Well, yes I am. I told you, nobody knows I’m gay, except you.”

“Except me. I’m not a virgin. I’ve done it, years ago.”

“Years ago? Wills, you’re only 13. How old were you?”

“I was 10. I slept, a few times, with an older boy – well, he was 12. He showed me. We did everything and it was great!”

“At 10 years old? Damm, you were an early starter.”

“I guess I was, but I was ready. I’m ready now.”

“Yeah? Me too! Just be careful who you hook-up with, Wills. Don’t go getting hurt.”

“I’m trying not to. G’night, Dylan.”

“Good night, my Friend. Sleep well.”

They both rolled over, facing away from each other, and both lay castigating themselves. They wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Kaimoana Tales, Dylan 4

The three of them, Paul, William and Dylan, spent an enjoyable morning fishing on the beach in front of the small seaside settlement of Oaro. Well, Paul and Dylan were fishing, William wasn’t. He was just supervising and offering advice because he knew so much more about it than people who’d been fishing for years.

Paul was fascinated at how well the boys were getting on together. He didn’t know what had happened and he wasn’t going to ask. He was just pleased that something had. His son needed a friend, and he couldn’t do better than Dylan, he was a nice kid.

However, he did hope that Wills wouldn’t be wanting studs in his ears. That was not going to happen.

By lunchtime, they’d caught and landed a couple of blue cod, some perch and a crayfish! Crayfish were not often caught on lines, but it did happen. William wondered at the dull brown colour of it. Shouldn’t it be orange?

“No, Wills,” Dylan said. “They’re like this until they’re cooked, then it’ll be orange.”

“”I see. I’ve never seen an uncooked one before.”

“Well, now you have. Anyway, time we were going home now.”

“Go?” William protested. “Couldn’t we stay a bit longer? This is fun.”

“It was, but there’ll be no more fish. Time to go.”

“But, how do you know there won’t be? We were doing all right here.”

“We were, but it’s over for today. That pod of dolphins out there will see to that.”

“But why? We’re not hurting them.”

“Wills, Dylan’s right,” Paul said. “The dolphins are fishing as well and they’re better at it than we are. What they don’t catch, they’ll scare away. There’ll be no more for us here today.”

“Oh. Damm the dolphins!” William expressed his disappointment.

“Tell you what,” said Dylan, “The tide’s getting low and it’s a spring-tide today. We could stop at Geese Bay, on the way home, and get some paua.”

“The shellfish things? Oh, yeah! Let’s do that.”

“Shellfish things?” said Paul. “They’re called abalone in some countries and they pay a fortune for them.”

They loaded everything back in the car and Paul drove a few K. back up the road. He stopped, where Dylan said to, just north of the first pair of road tunnels.

They got out and stood looking around. The tide was low and the rocks were sticking well up out of the gently heaving sea.

“Oh, wow! Look at that,” William said. “There’s another tunnel down by the beach. Is it natural, or did they dig that one too?”

“It’s natural, I think,” Dylan replied. “It’s not a tunnel, just a cave.”

“It’s really cool. I’m going to check it out.” William clambered down the rocks and headed along the shore.

“How do we go about this?” Paul asked. “I’ve never fished for paua before.”

“Usually you have to dive for them, but the tide is so low we should be able to get them from the rocks. Just lie down, as close as you can get to the water, put your hand in and feel around.

They have to be 125mm long. Less than that is illegal and a Fisheries Officer could confiscate all our gear, including the car.”

“We don’t want that then!”

“We don’t. It’s a long way to walk home. If you can’t pull them off the rocks, you have to prise them off with a knife. A dozen is all we need, that’s plenty to feed the family. I’m not sure what the limit is, but it’d be about that.

We’re probably going to get wet.”

“We probably are, but I don’t think we’ll melt.”

William was soon back from the cave; it wasn’t very exciting, just a low, dark, dead-end tunnel.

“One day I’ll take you and show you some real caves,” Dylan said. “In the hills back there, there’s some humungous ones.”

“That’ll be cool. Thanks, Dills.”

“Welcome, Wills.”

Paul smiled to himself. He was delighted at how the boys were getting on now –much better than they had been!

They took turns at getting paua and soon had all they wanted. It was not difficult and there were hundreds of them there, just below the water-line. They did get all wet, especially William, he was smaller and his arms were shorter. He insisted on getting some himself, so they let him. He lay down on the rocks, on his belly, and Dylan sat behind him, holding on to his legs.

He got one shellfish out, beaming with pride, and then reached in for another. Suddenly he screamed and leapt to his feet, shaking his right arm around in the air. There was a small octopus wrapped around his bare arm, but it was hard to see because he wouldn’t keep still.

“Eww, yuck! It’s disgusting! Get it off. Get it off me, Dylan? Dad? Somebody? Yuck!”

“Whoah, Wills,” Dylan grinned. “Settle. Calm down. It won’t hurt you; it’s just a baby.”

“I don’t care what it is. It’s disgusting. Help me Dylan!”

“I’m trying to help you. Keep still.”

He did settle down and stood shuddering while Dylan peeled the tentacles off his arm.

“Kill it! Kill the damm thing!”

“We’re not killing it.” Dylan released it in the water and watched it swim away. “It didn’t do any harm. There, it’s gone.”

“Didn’t do any harm? It nearly killed me. I could’ve had a heart attack!”

“Okay, Wills.” Paul joined them on their rock. “You had a fright, but it’s over now. Say thanks to your cousin.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dills.”

“You’re welcome my friend. We need one more paua, are you going to get it?”

“No way! No way am I putting my hand back in there. Yuck! Let’s go home.”

“Don’t be such a drama-queen, Wills,” Paul said. “We need one more. I’ll get it.”

He lay down, reached in the water and got another paua, (and also got wetter when a wave splashed). Then they returned home with their spoils and a story to tell.

The way William told it, he was attacked by a monster from the deep. He had sucker-marks on his arm too. Totally gross!

The mothers were happy to cook the fish, but they weren’t gutting them. The icky job of gutting them and cleaning them up for cooking was for the men – they caught them, they could prepare them.

There was no pot in the house big enough for the crayfish, which had to be boiled whole. So Paul did the cod and perch while Dylan and William took the cray down to the ‘community cookpot’ at the railway maintenance yard.

Paul offered Dylan his car, but he took his mother’s one instead. He was used to driving her car.

The cookpot was half of an old oil drum, mounted over a wood-fire, under a verandah roof, outside the painter’s workshop. Luckily, when they arrived there, the fire was already going and the water was boiling in the drum.

Dylan’s father’s mate, Ray Hunter, was there cooking his own catch of the day.

“Hey, Dillinger,” Ray greeted them. “Who’ve you got here?”

“Hey, Romano. This is my cousin, William. Have you got room for one more cray in there?”

“Not a chance. She’s full up. I’ll be done in a couple of minutes and then it’s all yours. Hello William. You’d be one of the squatters in Dillinger’s house, I suppose?”

“No, he’s not!” Dylan protested. “He’s a very welcome guest and he’s family.”

“Thanks, Dills,” William beamed. “Hey, Romano. Are you a fisherman?”

“No, I’m a painter and an amateur, just like Dylan is. I’m better at it though.”

“In your dreams!” Dylan retorted.

“Yeah, that too. I’ll raffle these beauties around the pubs and that’s my weekend drinking money taken care of.”

“Does Sue know about this?”

“No she doesn’t and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Of course!” Dylan grinned. He got the sack out of the car boot and spilled the crayfish out on the ground.

“Eww!” William squawked. “It’s still alive!” He took a couple of steps back away from the creepy thing.

“Sure it is,” Dylan replied. “They can live for hours out of the water. Dunno why though, they never come out of the water until they’ve been caught.

“They’re just hard buggers to kill,” Ray said. “But they don’t last long in boiling water.”

“Guess not,” William said. “We wouldn’t either.”

“Probably not.” Ray extracted his crays, using a pair of flat, wooden sticks. “That’s a good-size one you’ve got there, Dylan. None of mine are that big. I’ve got more than one though. Where did you catch him?”

“Down at Oaro. We were surfcasting and caught it on a line, would you believe?”

“Yeah, that happens, sometimes. Silly buggers get caught-up in the line. Well, it’s all yours, Boys. Top the water up and stoke the fire before you go. Norm will probably be around later. He’s painting a house, down by Oaro, and he took some craypots with him.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

“It surely is! Don’t tell the bosses that. What they don’t know won’t hurt them either. ‘Bye Boys.” Ray got in his old car and left, tyres squealing.

Dylan picked the crayfish up, holding it by the main carapace. Its claws, legs and feelers waved weakly.

William stood well back. “It’s a mini-monster!” he shuddered.

“Yeah, guess so. They taste good though,” Dylan replied. He held the cray over the boiling water, solemnly intoned, “In the name of the father, and of the son, and into the hole he goes!” and he dropped it into the water.

The crayfish screamed.

“Eww! That’s cruel,” William cried. “It screamed.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s mostly just air escaping. They don’t feel like we do. It’s just a fish, kind of. It’s all over pretty quick anyway.”

“Don’t you have to gut it, or anything?”

“No, none of that. The guts and everything in it gets cooked too and we eat it. Best part of the feed.”

“You eat the guts? I won’t be. This whole business is gross and disgusting.”

“I suppose it is; but then so is any meat you eat. Someone has to kill it and chop it up and wrap it in the nice plastic it comes in from the supermarket. You could put some wood on the fire, unless that’s gross too?”

“Shut up, Dills. I’m not that much of a girl.”

“I know that. You’re not a girl at all. You’re a boy – a fine-looking boy.”

“Takes one to know one,” William grinned. He fed the fire, and then sat on the ground, next to Dylan. “Ray’s a nice guy, for an oldie.”

“Yeah, he’s okay. He’s a bit of a character and he’s a friend of Dad’s.”

“A friend of yours too, by the look of it. You’ve got a lot of friends around here, Dills, the whole town in fact.”

“Well, maybe not the whole town, but you get to know people in a small town. You’ll see. Once you’ve been here for a while, you’ll have lots of friends too.”


“You think I’ll have friends?” William sighed. “So far, no-one wants to know me.”

“They will. Give them time. I think people are too scared to approach you, they’re all looking though.”

“Why would anyone be scared of me? I’m not scary; I don’t bite or anything.”

“You don’t. They just need time to work that out. I think you’re just too awesome, too good-looking, so they think they’re not good enough for you. Once they get used to having you around, they’ll see that you’re actually a nice guy.”

“You think? I’ve never had any problem before.”

“You’ve never been new in a small town before.”

“That’s true. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve got a best friend and that’s all I need. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I love you, Dills.”

“Ah, Wills! You’re my best friend, and I love you too.”

A small truck pulled up next to them. A big guy got out and scowled at them. “What are you little shits doing here? Bugger off home!”

William was taken aback, but Dylan just grinned. “Up yours, Norm! We’ll go when we’re finished. You’ll just have to wait like we had to.”

“That’s what’s wrong with the world today – no respect anywhere.”

“Norm, with all due respect – up yours!”

“Little Shit!” Norm grinned a broken-toothed grin. “I’d tell your dad on you, but he’d probably say the same thing. Ray’s already been here, has he?”

“He has. He just left a few minutes ago.”

“Okay. How many crays has he got?”

“Five or six, I think.”

“That many? I’ll bet they’re little buggers.”

“Buggers? We wouldn’t know, they were already dead when we got here.”

“You’ve got a smart mouth for a young one, Dylan James. What’s your dad doing?”

“Just working. I think he’s out on the Burgess’ farm.”

“He’s always bloody working. Tell him it’s his bet for the syndicate this week.”

“I will, when I see him. He’s doing long hours, humping and hollowing, so they have to make the most of the weather when they’ve got it.”

“Must be making a bloody fortune out there. I’m having a cuppa. You boys want one?”

“Railway tea? No thanks, Norm, we’ll pass on that. We’re nearly done here anyway. We’ll be gone by the time you’ve made it.”

“Good job too. Bugger off, why don’cha? See you later, Boys.” Norm disappeared into the workshop.

“He’s a character too, is he?” William grinned.

“Yeah, kind of. Norm’s okay, he’s all bluff and bluster. Wouldn’t hurt a fly really.”

“Right. What’s the syndicate?”

“Their betting syndicate. There’s 6 guys and they all put money into a pool every week and take turns at betting on races and sports games. At the end of the year, they divide-up what they’ve got and that’s their Christmas money.”

“I see. Do they make a lot of money?”

“Not really. They’d be better off just saving it, but it’s a bit of fun and they get to give each other a hard time when they lose.”

“It’s like a game for grown-ups then.”

“Kind of. Kind of grown-ups. Let’s see how the cooking’s going.”

Dylan took the lid off the drum and lifted the cray out of the boiling water, using the pair of sticks. It was now a bright orange colour.

“All right! We’re done. Stick your head in the door there and tell Norm that we’re outta here.”

He put the crayfish on the sack on the ground, lifted it all and put it in the car-boot. He got in the car, and then William got in with him.

“Norm says, “about bloody time” and “bugger off then”.”

“Of course he did. When you see Norm around town, he’ll growl at you. Just growl back and you’ll get on fine.”

They returned home. Dylan left the crayfish in the beer-fridge, and then went to play his guitar while William joined the 3 girls for a game of cards.

(“My 3 favourite card games – Grab, the Old Maid, and Poker.”)

Kaimoana Tales, Dylan 3

The days crawled past with no progress at all. Almost everyone there was getting on fine. Dylan decided that he liked having them all there. They were family and they were nice people. He liked them and they liked him too, almost all of them did. William was still having nothing to do with him. He didn’t speak – not a word - and he usually turned his back whenever Dylan appeared.

It hurt. The most beautiful boy in the world was living in his house and sleeping in his room and he absolutely would not talk to him.

Tuesday afternoon, after he came home from school, Paul went out fishing, with Dylan. They were both keen fishermen and Dylan wanted to show him his favourite spot on the Kowhai River.

William was in the car when Dylan came outside. He got out and went into the house. “Later, Dad.”

“William? Wills, where are you going? I thought that you were coming fishing.”

“I’m not. I changed my mind. I’ve got better things to do.”

He disappeared into the house and Dylan got in the car. “He just doesn’t want to be around me. William doesn’t like me.”

“Oh? Upset him, have you? Don’t worry, he’ll come around. Wills is not one to hold a grudge.”

(‘Could’ve fooled me.’)

They went fishing.

On Wednesday, they went back to school. Sarah drove all the kids down there in the morning, dropping the little girls off at the Primary School on the way. Dylan decided that he could get used to this. Being chauffeured to school was a bit of all right!

He was looking forward to the new year, the holidays got to be a bit long, and he hoped that William might make some new friends there as well. He might be happier if he had friends of his own? Yeah, of course he would. Everyone would want to know a good-looking boy like him, wouldn’t they?

Wrong! They didn’t.

Dylan and Emmy had most of their classes together, they were both in year 12, but William was only year 9, so they had none with him. However, it was a small school so he did see him around, off and on, during the day. He was always alone.

Dylan saw a lot of people staring at William, both boys and girls, especially the girls. They were talking about him, but no-one talked to him. It was like they were all too scared to approach him or something.

Why? There was nothing scary about him, he was just a beautiful boy. A perfect-looking boy. Was he too good-looking or something?

Emmy commented, and Dylan agreed with her, that the year 9’s, the new entrants, were getting smaller every year. Did they ever look that young and lost in their big new school? William didn’t look lost, he just looked alone.

Dylan felt sorry for him, but what could he do? He was not in year 9 and William didn’t want to know him anyway. (‘Dammit!’)

They walked home after school. Dylan was, as usual, with a couple of mates. William, up ahead of him, walked alone. Dylan really felt bad for him. What was wrong with people? Why wouldn’t anyone talk to him?

He skipped going to Brodie’s, as he usually did, and went home to try, once again, to mend some bridges with William. As usual, William was not interested. He wouldn’t even stay in the same room with him.

Walking to school next day, (Dammit – Aunt Sarah was busy), Dylan made a decision. Okay, the kid didn’t want to know him, but he still needed a friend, someone his own age. So who? And, how could he help that along?

He fell in with Mac and Joyce. With them but not totally there. They were busy anyway, engaged in their never-ending, joking, arguments. The sooner those two got married, the better. They were already like an old, squabbling, married couple.

He wondered if they were doing ‘it’? Yeah, probably, but with boxing gloves on. They suited each other.

There was a thought. Mac had a 13 year old sister, didn’t he? Yeah, ‘course he did – Miriam, known as Mooney. Maybe she’d be a friend for William.

He found her at lunchtime, sitting with a couple of other girls, and he went over and sat down with them.

“Hey, Mooney.”

“Hey, Dylan,” she blushed and simpered.

“Something I want to talk to you about. That kid over there, the blond with the red lunch-box, he’s my cousin, William. Do you know him?”

“Ohmigod! He’s your cousin? Ohmigosh, he’s gorgeous! I know him. I know who he is but he doesn’t know me. He’s in my class, and he’s really your cousin? Ohmigosh.”

Dylan sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Yes, he’s really my cousin. Look, Mooney, he’s new here and he’s having trouble fitting in. Nobody seems to want to know him, and he needs a friend. Would you like me to introduce you to him?”

“What?? Ohmigosh, no! You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can. Why not?”

“Because, like, I couldn’t talk to him. He wouldn’t want to know me.”

“Sure he would. You’re as good as anybody. He’s got nobody. Why not you?”

“No. No way! He’s too gorgeous. Why don’t you talk to him?”

Mooney jumped up and ran after her friends. “Holly! Crystal! Ohmigosh. Do you know what he said?”

Dylan sat and watched them bouncing around, squealing and ‘ohmigoshing’, and shook his head. “Bloody silly little girls. They’re all mad”

Was that how 13 year old boys carried on? William didn’t, thank goodness, and he was 13.

‘Oh well, that was a waste of time. What’s plan B? Who else do I know in year 9?’

He looked around the lunchtime crowd. Two boys were sitting outside the library, their heads close together as they both studied, and snickered over, the same book.

‘Ah, of course! Joyce’s brothers, they’re in year 9. Well, Grant’s in year 10, but Stevie’s year 9. Maybe the boys are saner than the girls?’

He walked over to them. They both looked up and Grant snapped the book shut as he approached.

“Hey, Guys. What have you got there? A dictionary?’

“Yeah,” Stevie grinned. “The Concise Oxford. Just improving our minds.”

“Sure you are!”

“No, we are. You wouldn’t believe some of the words that are in there.”

“I would. I’ve looked them up myself, years ago. I think that most kids do.”

“So, Dylan,” Grant grinned. “What the copulatory intercourse can we do for you?”

“Yeah, you got me. I want a favour. Do it and I won’t hit you.”

“Do what?” Stevie squealed in his high-pitched voice, believing the threat.

“That kid over there – my cousin, William Scott, he’s new here and he’s got no friends his own age. Would you guys go over and talk to him?”

“Fuck off!” Grant replied. “We’re not sitting talking to no pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys? Come on, Grant. He’s a nice kid and he’s lonely. No-one will talk to him.”

“Of course they won’t, and we’re not either. Don’t you even think about it, Stevie. People will think you’re a fag too.”

“That’s harsh,” Dylan said. “How do you know he’s a fag? You don’t even know him.”

“We don’t. Don’t want to and we’re not going to. Of course he’s a fag, he’s far too pretty to be just a boy.”

“He can’t help that, any more than you can help how you look.”

“Maybe, but we can help how people look at us. Fuck off, Dylan”

“Later, Guys.” Dylan shook his head as he walked away.

Bloody kids! Funny, he kept forgetting that William was one of them too.

Friday night, he went to the party at the beach, but didn’t stay long. It was raining, it was cold and everyone just sat, drinking, in their cars. Some party!

He went home, on foot. He was like a drowned rat by the time he got there. He dropped his wet clothes in the bathroom and had a, blissful, long hot shower.

When he went to his room to get dressed, William was in there, down on his knees and stuffing clothes into his school-bag.

“Hey, hey. What are you doing there?’ He didn’t expect an answer, but asked anyway and was amazed when he did.

“I’m leaving. Going home. Goodbye, Dylan. You can have your room back now.”

William stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder and left, closing the door behind him.

“Leaving? Home? What’re you talking about?”

He quickly threw some clothes on and went after him. The rest of the family were all sitting in front of the TV, so he hadn’t gone that way. He went out the front and ran out into the street just in time to see a small figure going around the corner, under the streetlight at the end.

He ran after him, hobbling along on his way-too-soft bare feet. “Ow. Ow. Ow!”

“William? William wait up! Stop will you.”

He caught hold of his arm to stop him. William tried to shake him off.

“Get off me, you Big Lug!”

“No, I won’t.” But he let go anyway, when he stopped walking. “William, what are you doing? You can’t leave. This is your home now, you’ve got nowhere else.”

“I’m not staying here. I hate it here. I’m going back to Wellington where I belong. I’ve got friends there, people who actually talk to me.”

“You’ve got people who talk to you here – your family. I talk to you. Well, I would if you’d answer me.”

“You told me not to talk to you.”

“I did. I also said I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you did. I was just pissed at you and didn’t want to hear you.”

“You’re talking to me now.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter now because I’m going.”

“But you can’t! How do you think you’re going to get there, walking?”

“No, there’s a bus. It leaves from the Adelphi Lodge at 10pm. I’m going to miss it if I don’t hurry and then I will have to walk.”

“You’d get picked-up – raped and murdered probably. William, you can’t do this. Think about your family. Your mum, your dad, your sister – they’d be devastated. They love you. I love you. Please come home.”

“You love me?”

“I do. You’re my cousin. My beautiful, bright and funny cousin. Hell, the way we’re living, you’re almost like my little brother. I’d love to be your friend. There’s nothing that I want more. Please come home.”

“With you?”

“Yes, with me. Please.”

“Yeah, okay,” he grinned. “I’ve probably missed the bus anyway and we’re getting wet here. Let’s go home.”

“Brilliant! Thanks. Let’s get out of this bleeding rain.”

They started walking home, both of them grinning in the dark.

“So are we going to be friends?” Dylan ventured.

“Yeah, if you want to, I’d like that too. You should know though, I’m gay.”

“You’re what?” Dylan stopped and stared.

“You heard me. You sure you want a gayboy sleeping in your room?”

“I don’t see why not. There always has been.”

“Always has been what? Oh. Are you saying that you’re gay too?”

“I am. Please don’t tell the family. No-one knows that, just me; and now, you too I guess. Does your family know about you?”

“Of course they don’t! You think they’d put me in a room with my stud of a cousin if they did?”

“Guess not. You think I’m a stud?”

“Yeah! Well, you were. You’re losing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re starting to look weird with all that purple dye running down your face.”

“It’s not, is it? Damm. This stuff is meant to be water-fast. Let’s go home.”

Back at the house, no-one had moved front the TV. They were all sitting in there, glued to it.

‘Damm,’ Dylan thought. ‘My whole life turned inside out and nobody noticed.’ He grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom cupboard and went out to the sink in the scrub-up area in the dirt room while William showered in the bathroom.

Dylan didn’t need another shower, it wasn’t even an hour since his last one, but he did need to get out of his wet clothes, (Again!), to dry off and to try to do something about the dye in his hair.

The dye scrubbed off his face easily enough, but there was a problem when he dried his hair – the light-coloured towel was now partially purple! His mother would not be impressed with another wrecked towel. He decided that he’d better put it through the wash to try to save it.

While he was at it, he might as well make a load of it and get rid of all the wet clothes too. He went to his room to get the ones he’d left in there and William was already in bed.

“Hi. I’m going to put all this stuff through the wash. Where are your wet clothes? They can go in as well.”

“Okay, thanks. They’re in the basket there.”

“Right.” He bundled William’s clothes with his own. “I’ll go and put them in the machine. Be back in a minute.”

On the way back, he grabbed a couple of cans of coke and took them to his room – their room now, he supposed. He walked in the room and looked at the boy in the other bed ad gulped. Damm! William was so beautiful, and he was naked in there! No. He’d better not think like that. He’d embarrass himself.

“Umm. Hi,” he managed. “I got a coke. Do you want one?”

“Cool. Thanks.” William smiled, sat up and reached for the can. More bare skin was exposed and, whoah, he’d better sit down quick.

He passed the coke and sat on his own bed to hide the growing tumescence under his towel. The boy might be stunningly beautiful, but he was just a kid, he was way too young for him, and he was his cousin. He could imagine what his family would say and it was not good.

“William, Wills, I’m really glad that you came back. Thanks. I hope we’re going to be friends now.”

“Yeah. So do I, Dills,” William grinned.

Dylan sighed, put down his can and slid into bed. If only the boy over there wasn’t his cousin. If only he wasn’t so young, so beautiful, so nice – life would be great. But, he was and it wasn’t.

“Time we were sleeping. G’night, Wills.” He turned out the light so he wouldn’t have to look at him. Not that that helped much, he could still see him, in his mind’s eye – the perfect picture of the perfect boy.

In the morning when he woke, the first thing he did was to look across at William’s bed. It was empty and he was alone in the room. The time? 7.30. Early for a Saturday morning. Where would Wills be?

There was a light tap on the door, he called, “come in”, and William came in grinning with a plateful of toast in one hand and two coffee mugs in the other. How had he knocked on the door? With his foot? Or, with . . .

‘No. Shut up Dylan. He’s got clothes on anyway.’

“Good morning, Dylan. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did. You?”

“Yeah, very good. I brought you this.”

“What’ve you got there?”

“Nothing much. Just tea and toast. I wanted to cook breakfast for you, but mum said no. I’m a rotten cook anyway.”

“Well, thanks. But, what did you do that for?”

“Because I wanted to. I wanted to do something nice to celebrate us being friends now. Can I bring it over to your side of the room?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t because there is no my side of the room. I’m going to rip that tape up as soon as I get up. Thanks, Wills. That was nice of you.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “I’m nice. Not that nice though, it’s not all for you, you’ve gotta share. I’m hungry too.”

“Okay, that’s cool. Come here and sit down.”

William handed him a mug and sat on the end of the bed with the toast between them. Dylan sipped the drink and tried not to screw his face up – he never drank tea, just coffee.

“Is it okay?” William asked. “I didn’t know how you like it, so I did it the same as mine – milk and two sugars. I could change it if you’d like.”

“No, it’s fine like this, thanks. What are your plans for today?”

“I’m going fishing with Dad. He wants to try surf-casting on the beach, down at Oaro. Wanna come with us?”

“I’d love to, but I’d better not.”

“Not? Why not?”

“Because I’d be in the way. It’s your time with your dad. I don’t want to interfere.”

“Don’t be silly. I want you to come. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t. I want to get to know you, Dills. You’re family too.”

“Yeah, I am. Okay, I’m coming and thanks.”

“Thank you.”

They exchanged grins.

“Wills, when you get to know me, you’ll know I’d rather have coffee next time you make breakfast.”

“Next time? Next time, you’re making it, Cousin.” They grinned again.

They sat and talked while they ate and drank. Tea was gross, but you have to make an effort sometimes. William left Dylan to get dressed in private, and went out to tell his dad that Dylan was coming fishing.

“He is?” Paul replied, eyebrows rising. “Does that mean you’re not going now?”

“Course not. I’m coming, we’re all going. Dylan and I are friends now, Dad.”

“You are? Well, good! I’m pleased to hear that then!”