Kaimoana Tales, Damian & William 1

“You’re very quiet, Damian. Something on your mind?”

“Mmm? Yeah, I have. Wills, we’ve got to talk.”

“Okay, sure. Talk to me. You’re moping along here like you hate the whole world.”

“I do hate the world. Maybe not all of it, but most of it sucks.”

“You think? It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It is. It . . .”

“Beep, Be-e-ep!” A gleaming silver-grey BMW, full of laughing and waving teenagers, cruised past the pair of walking boys. William smiled and waved back. Damian didn’t.

“Piss off! I hope you bloody crash.”

“Whoah! That’s a bit harsh. Are you not a member of your brother’s fan-club then?”

“Not likely. There’s no room for me in there; only the cool kids get in.”

“Why not you then? I think you’re a very cool kid.”

“Do you, Wills? Shows how much you know. Look, come on over to the beach where we can talk in private.”

“Yeah, okay. This sounds serious.”

“It is serious. Come on.”

The two young teens went through the car-park, crossed the bridge over the creek and up and over the shingle-bank at the back of the beach. They went forward, a couple of meters, dropped their bags and sat sown, out of sight of the nearby main street.

They were a matched pair of 13, almost 14, year old boys, one with longish, golden-blond hair and the other with shorter, black and high-lighted hair. They were dressed identically – black sneakers, baggy blue short and short-sleeved white shirts. Well, it was a school uniform.

They sat quietly, side by side, watching the white-capped waves rolling in, until William tired of waiting. “Here we are then. What do you want to talk about?”

Damian sighed, “About us.”

“Us? You and me? We’re okay, aren’t we? I thought we were mates.”

“Yes, us. Do you know why we are friends?”

“Yeah, because you’re madly in love with me.”

“Wills, be serious. I’m not in love with you, I think.”

(‘You think??’)

“Good job too. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is why we are friends.”

“I’m not with you. I like that we’re friends. I like you and I thought that you liked me too.”

“I do like you. I like you a lot, you’re my best mate, but you don’t know me.”

“I know you, you’re Damian. Damian Woods, second son of the richest family in town, and a nice guy despite that.”

“Thanks. You’re very cool too. Do you know how we became friends?”

“Yeah, I do. I was new in town and I was lonely at school because no-one would talk to me. You came along, sat down next to me, smiled and said, “Hey, I’m Damian.””

“Yeah, but why did I do that? I’ll tell you why, it was because my mother told me that I had to.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m glad she did.”

“So am I – now. But I wasn’t at the time. I had to do it because she decided that you would be a suitable friend for me.”

“Suitable? Because I’m so beautiful?”

“No, Dork! Well, maybe that was part of it, you are a good-looking kid, but mostly it was because of your family.”

“My family?”

“Yeah. Your sister is way popular, your dad is the Primary School Principal and your mum is some sort of consultant – all very suitable connections for someone who is a friend of a member of the Fabulous Woods family. Plus, when she found out about that movie you were in, she was just about wetting her knickers. She sells DVDs of it in her shop.”

“I know she does, and it’s dammed embarrassing too. ‘Rocks on the Roof, a New Zealand film starring local boy, William Scott.’ There’s a huge poster in the window with pics of me. I hate it. I wasn’t the star, I was just one of the actors in it.”

“Pretty much the main one though. Yeah, I’d hate having pics of me stuck up in the main street too. But that’s what she’s like. You’ve become one more bit of arty-farty junk that she sells to the tourists.”

“Damian, why do I get the feeling that you don’t think that the Woods family is so fabulous?”

“Because they’re not. They’re prats and they are total snobs. Everything is always about keeping up appearances and impressing the little people.”

“Really? But, Ashton is not a snob.”

“No, he’s not, but he’s whipped.”

“Whipped?”

“Yes. It’s like pussy-whipped. That’s not what he is, but it’s the same thing. They tell him what to do and he does it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Ashton is a product of their plans. He’s all about image – the image that they decided on for him. Know why his car is always so bright and shiny?”

“Because he looks after it? I would too if I had a Beamer. It’s the coolest car in town.”

“It’s clean because I clean it, 3 times a week, that’s part of my job. It is the coolest car. Ashton is allowed to drive it so that he’ll look good.”

“He does look good. The Beamer has got to be the coolest birthday present ever!”

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t a birthday present and it’s not his car.”

“It’s not? Whose car is it then?”

“It’s largely still the finance company’s. It’s still on the books at dad’s car-dealership, so it’s the company’s car, not Ashton’s. What he really got for his birthday was what we always get – sweet Fanny Adams.”

“That means nothing, right?”

“Yeah. Sweet Fanny Adams is sweet fuck all. If they put me in a flash car on my birthday, I’ll leave it across the railway line when the express goods is due to come through.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I bloody would. Ashton is the good son, not me. I’m the other one.”

“You’re the rebel in the family?”

“I am, or I will be. I’m never going to be what they want me to be. I can’t really, because I’m gay.”

“You’re WHAT? Gay?”

“Yeah, gay. Just like you are.”

“Like me? What makes you think that I’m gay?”

“Lots of little things. I’ve thought for a while that you might be, because you think so much like me. Last Friday, I found out for sure.”

“How?”

“At the party at the beach. I saw you sneaking away with your cousin and I followed you.”

“You were spying on us? Little Shit!”

“Yeah. Well, it was important. I had to know what you were doing. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. If I had a chance to snog Dylan James on a moonlit beach, I’d be in like a shot!”

“You haven’t got a chance, My Friend, and don’t you forget it. Dills is mine and no-one else’s.”

“He’s like your boyfriend then? Do you love him, Wills?”’

“Totally!”

“And you live with him. You share a room, don’t you?”

“We share a bed.”

“Lucky Sod! How many 13 year-olds get to sleep with their boyfriend every night?”

“Probably not a lot, but I do, and that’s very, very cool.”

“It is. It’s very, very, very cool.”

“Yeah. Very, very, very, very – oh, shut up!”

“Well, you started it.”

“I did, in more ways than one.”

“Eh?”

“Nevermind. That’s private stuff. We’re talking about you and you’re gay?”

“I am, totally gay. Girls don’t interest me at all. Yuck!”

“Yeah, funny creatures. You haven’t got a boyfriend then?”

“No, not yet, and I don’t want one either.”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“If I can’t have you, I don’t want anybody.”

“Seriously? Shit, Damian! You’re my mate, and that’s good, but don’t go falling for me because that’s not going to happen. I’ve got a boyfriend and I love him. End of story.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that. Maybe one day I’ll find someone as cool as you, but I doubt it. Anyway, if I do I’ll be looking for somewhere to live because I won’t be at home.”

“You think?”

“I won’t. They’ll totally freak. Fuck ‘em anyway.”

“You’d better make sure he’s worth it then.”

“Oh, I will, for sure.”

“Take my advice, when you get someone, get one who’s a bit older. Most boys our age are as daft as the girls.”

“They are, but you’re not.”

“No, but I’m special.”

“You are, Wills. You’re very special. What are you going to do when your house is finished? Will you be moving in with your family?”

“Yeah,” William shrugged. “Bugger, innit? It’s all-but finished. We’re moving in this weekend.”

“And leaving Dylan?”

“Yes, and I’m not happy about it. I’ll still see him and we’ll have sleep-overs, but it won’t be the same.”

“I guess not. I wouldn’t be happy either Maybe I could come for a sleep-over sometime?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll have to check my diary. No, really, that’d be great. Just sleeping though, nothing else.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Anyway, if you come and stay with me, then I’ll get to stay in the Woods’ Mansion!”

“Umm. Probably not. Definitely not in fact – they’d never allow that.”

“Why not then? I’m very clean and I don’t wet the bed. I thought your mother approved of me?’

“She does, but that’s not it. We don’t have visitors staying overnight – not ever. We never have. We’re allowed people in the daytime, but they don’t go upstairs.”

“Why not? Have you got deep, dark secrets up there?”

“Yes, we have.”

“Like what?”

“Like. . . you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You know what – stuff ‘em! Come with me and I’ll show you.”

Damian stood up, picked up his bag and stood looking down at him. William stayed where he was, looking up.

“I don’t know, Damian. Maybe we shouldn’t. I mean, if it’s family stuff then it’s none of my business is it?”

“Yes it is! It’s totally your business. You’re my mate, Wills. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I want you to know what my life is really like so you’ll know who I am.”

“Well, if you’re sure? Okay, let’s go look then.”

They went back over the bridge and through the car-park to the main street.