The Goats

"Fucking pervert." She snarled. "Freak." Then she spat on him. He flinched when the gob of saliva landed in his hair.

That snapped me out of it. The picture didn't matter, they were torturing this poor kid. There was no other word for it.

"You stupid bitch." I snarled, feeling satisfaction when her smug face crumpled. "Tim! Let him go. You can't do the Goats this year. It's sick and pointless! Look at him, he's scared out of his fucking mind!"

I don't know what I expected, but not this. Tim stepped forward, his face a mask of rage. He backhanded me across the face and my reflexes were too slow to block, dodge, or even tense up for it. I could feel my neck creak.

I looked up at him from the ground, dazed and just starting to feel the fierce sting.

"You're a self-righteous prick, Jason! You know that? For the last six months you've been treating us all like dirt! You think that just because you've been taking college courses, that you're big and mature and that the rest of us are just dumb kids!"

I saw the anger and hurt in his eyes, and I felt cold. He was going to say it. I knew it. When we were fourteen he had promised that he would never tell anyone, but now he was going to say it to everybody.

He kicked me first. I got to tense for this one, but I still got the toe of his sneaker right in the ribs. "Y'know what Jason? Since you're so hot and bothered about us scaring your boyfriend here, you can be the Goat!"

Some of them were laughing, too stoned to be serious. Others were looking confused and a little scared. Samantha had a shocked and vindictive look on her face. Then Tim said it.

"Besides, you're a faggot, too, that's gotta count for something."

Everything went cold and numb. Except for my cheek and eye, which felt hot and swollen. Everyone was looking at him except Caleb, who made a desperate bid for freedom while Perry was distracted. He stumbled off of the little sliver of an island and tried to run through the water that nearly reached his crotch. Perry grabbed him again with pitiful ease. Now Caleb was in a full-nelson in front of Perry. He was wet, and he was trying as hard as he could not to cry.

Tim glared at me where I was curled upon the ground. "I was over at his place when we were still in middle school. He showed me some freak porn and tried to jerk me off."

They were all looking at me now. Samantha was shaking her head.

Bjorn stepped forward and whooped loudly. "Yeah, the Goats 2011!! Faggot Edition!"

Tim let out a hard smile and started to cheer with them. The balding mountain-sized guy, his name was Gordon. I could remember that now. He dragged me to my feet and we started to march down the stream.

---

The sun was already well down. It was about midnight, and there was only the light of the moon. The air was humid and cool. I could hear thunder in the distance, and the wind was picking up. They were joking.

That's what struck me the most. They had divulged my deepest darkest secret. They had humiliated Caleb. They were planning on locking us in a filthy concrete shack until morning. And they thought it was funny.

I could see the hut when the clouds scuttled away from the moon. It was on a sliver of land much like the one we had smoked hookah on. The walls were obscured with graffiti. It was an ugly concrete box with a rust-red door.

I hadn't thought that this night could get any worse, but I was wrong.

I had been quiet, trying to shift my weight so I could kick Gordon. I jerked off-balance when I heard Caleb let out a hoarse cry and I turned around to see. Caleb was small and skinny, Perry had been taking care of him with ease, but now it took him, Bjorn, and a guy I didn't know to hold him down. I heard ripping cloth, and suddenly his shirt was gone, and all he had was a pair of grey briefs with a big hole in the side.

Before I could think to escape, they started yanking my clothes off. They got my shirt off in one piece, but my swim trunks tore. I was naked, and they were yanking at even my shoes and socks.

The guys around me were focused on stripping me, but over by Caleb they were laughing. When I looked over, Caleb had a hand covering his crotch, but they were making fun of his size. They were shoving me inside the hut. I could clearly hear Tim.

"What are you?" Tim mocked. "Fuckin' twelve?"

Gordon kicked me behind my knee. It hurt like hell, he wasn't wearing sneakers, he was wearing heavy workboots. I fell, my left leg crumpling under me. The concrete was cold and rough and dirty under my knees.

They shoved Caleb in after me, and he fell on top of me. I could feel his damp skin and bony joints and hard bunched muscles as he recoiled and jumped off.

The door slammed shut, and I could hear the metal click of the lock sliding into place.

---

The only light in the hut came from a crack in the ceiling. It was moonlight even then. I could hear thunder in the distance, and closer, I could hear Caleb breathing. His breathing was thick and jagged. He was trying to be quiet, but he was still crying.

I shivered. I couldn't see a damn thing, but there had to be something in here. Anything to help cover him up.

Caleb had crammed himself into one corner of the ten by ten foot concrete box. I searched the ground carefully with my fingers. I had a sudden horrible image of cutting my fingers on a used needle, and after that I was even more tentative.

Not a thing. Not a goddamn thing.

My eyes were starting to adjust slightly. I could see him curled into a ball in the corner. His legs were folded in front of him, and his arms hung limply in between to cover his crotch. His head hung low, his forehead resting on his drawn-up knees.

My voice sounded hoarse to me when I spoke. "Hey, Caleb?"

He choked out a sob. "I'm sorry." He mewed.

I shivered. The night had seemed mild and chilly, but now I was naked and wet. It was starting to rain, the sound of the raindrops on the roof was soothing. I could hear water dripping in through the crack in the ceiling.

"Caleb." I whispered. "Just don't worry about it. I'm sorry that you got mixed up in all of this."

I didn't want to upset him when he was already so miserable, so I tried not to act angry about the picture. But I was angry about the picture. Confused and angry and violated.

Wind was whistling in through the cracks. It was a real storm brewing out there. I flinched and yelped as water hit my toes. For a second I panicked, thinking that the stream had risen to our level and would flood the cabin, but then I relaxed. I had just been touched by the puddle from the rain leaking through the roof.

I curled up into a tight ball like Caleb, hugging my knees to my chest and shivering. My feet and butt were numb with cold from the concrete floor. Eventually, Caleb's soft crying ceased. It was dead silent as we huddled on opposite sides of the room. After a while I started to hear his teeth clicking together. A soft chattering that just made it feel even colder.

I winced when I stretched out my legs. "Caleb?" I whispered hoarsely. There was barely any light in here, but my eyes had adjusted, and I could see his dim form flinch as I spoke.

"Yeah?" He whispered.

"Are you cold?"

He let out a weak rusty laugh. "Yes Jason. I'm really fucking cold." He wanted it to be sarcastic and biting, but his voice was weak and and tired. His voice hitched slightly, and he sounded like a tired kid.

"I'm really fucking cold t-too." I chattered back. "Is it okay if we sit together?"

No answer. "Um... Okay." He sounded frightened, apprehensive. I crawled over, using one hand to cover my crotch as I did.

He curled up tight in his corner, looking at me with apprehension and nervous fear.

I turned so my back was facing him, shivering. "Just lean against me, kay? We'll be warmer that way."

I gasped as he leaned back against me. His thin back was cold and clammy from resting against the concrete wall. We shivered, back to back. It helped a little. I could feel him breathe, feel the little blunt points of his spine and shoulders dig into my skin.

"How did you get that picture?" I asked quietly. "I'm not angry. I just want to know how you got it."

He leaned back slightly and I felt the back of his head on the back of my neck. His hair was soft and warm. "I'm in the school newspaper." He whispered. "One of the photography kids made prints of the Cedar Rapid game, and I just took one of the copies." After a pause, he said. "You got five shots in that game."

He sniffled. "I j-just wanna go home. I don't know why I did this in the first p-place. I'm s-s-sorry J-Jason." He started to cry.

"When did you start stalking me?" I didn't mean for it to come out like that. It sounded harsh and flat on my tongue.

Caleb was quiet. "When I was in sixth grade, Tim was bullying me. I used to be in boy scouts with him, and that's when he started making fun of me. He made fun of me because I have twelve sisters and I live in a shitty trailer home and I get free lunch because I'm poor. He used to laugh at my shitty clothes... He still laughs at my shitty clothes. I quit boy scouts when I was in sixth grade because of you."

He took a deep shuddering breath. "One night at a lock-in, he brought his best friend who wasn't in scouts. You. Tim started making fun of me because I was wearing hand-me downs from my sisters. Pink sneakers and a purple shirt with a butterfly on it. You smacked him, right on the mouth and demanded that we switched shirts."

I was starting to remember it now.

"You had this Timberwolves jersey, and it was really big on me. My shirt was so tight on you that it ripped later on when we played floor hockey. You wouldn't let me give the shirt back, and you told me to keep it. Tim didn't make fun of me all night."

"You've been following me since then?" I asked quietly. Now that I was really thinking, a lot of things started making sense. He had chosen a lot of my same classes. He always sat at a lunch table a little further away then my table. In sixth grade, he had started coming to my church. Not his family (though he dragged one or two of his sisters along now and then) just him.

"Don't worry." Caleb's voice was soft and tearful. "After this, I'm gonna stay here to try and get a job, and you're going to college. I never want to see anyone from h-here again!"

"You can say that again." I said bitterly.

We were quiet for a little while. He was shivering, I was shivering, but his back was starting to feel warmer with our combined body heat.

I was half-dozing when he spoke. "Are you... Have you ever been with a guy before?"

I stretched my legs, hearing my knees pop and crackle. "No. Have you?"

He didn't answer the question. He just asked another. "Are you mad at me?"

I took a deep breath. "Right now, the only people I'm angry at are the fucking idiots in our school that still do this barbaric Shit. Have you?" I was curious, but I expected the answer to be no.

He paused before answering. "When I was fifteen."

I think he could feel my shock. I turned around to look at him. He was hugging his knees to his chest. He shifted slightly and the bumps in his spine dug in. He looked at me and for the first time I saw a faint wary pride in his eyes. "What? You just assumed that I was a virgin because everyone at my school hates me?"

He was angry. That anger had festered deep within him, without an outlet. I was surprised, and wounded by his anger.

"They were right. You just walk through this place like a prince. You look down on everyone and you think that you're better, and that everyone here is running in circles. You needed this, to take you down a notch." The hurt in his voice was raw and toothed.

I didn't have anything to say to that. I tried. "I'm sorry Caleb."

He curled up. "It's not me you have to deal with. You were mostly right. Maybe these people will grow up in a few years and shake their heads and feel guilty about locking us up. But they'll still feel satisfied. After all, it was just a couple of queers, right?"

He just sounded tired now. But so bitter.

I found myself in a position that I had rarely been in. I wanted to make him like me. I had been flayed with my shortcomings in front of everyone I had thought of on some level as my friends. I wanted to change the subject, to talk with him as equals, anything.

"I almost did, once." I said quietly.

He was curious. There is a bitter pleasure in making someone hurt, in humbling someone, and I could feel him struggling with that. He was torn between hearing my story and giving me the cold shoulder.

I just kept talking. "It was spring in eighth grade. I was fourteen, and Tim was fifteen. He got held back a year in sixth grade."

He turned around. "Really?" I grinned and nodded, happy that he was talking to me. His face was so close to mine. Without his glasses to hide his face, I was surprised at how attractive he was. He had clear flawless skin and high cheekbones and a soft dimple in his chin. His eyes were wide and clear and blue, surrounded by dark blonde lashes.

We both abruptly looked forward again. My cheeks flushed. "Anyway, we had a sleepover, and we were watching a movie in my basement. I snuck into my parent's room and looked through the movies that they thought were too mature for me to watch. I picked one at random, and it was 'A Clockwork Orange'."

"I saw that. It's one of my favorites."

I nodded, feeling the back of my head touch the back of his head. "It was a scene later in the movie. The part after Alex goes through the treatments, and they're torturing him with that woman. The one who had purple hair and was only wearing her underwear. Tim was really... He had a boner, and I tried to touch him."

Caleb shuddered. I couldn't tell if he was cold, or just shivering at the idea of trying to jerk off Tim. "I got my hand in his pants and he didn't freak out. I thought he was okay with it. He was panting. But when I tried to kiss him he hit me. He ran upstairs, and he slammed the door so hard that pictures fell off the walls. Mom ran down and found out what I was watching, and I got grounded." I felt anti-climactic, the worst storyteller ever. "That was it. The grand sexual history of the biggest asshole at Chamberlain High."

"How come you guys are still friends?"

I snorted bitterly. "Not friends after this. But we just started hanging out again during soccer practice that summer. We just never talked about it again."

Caleb sighed. It was a big sigh, and I could feel it rearranging the bones of his back. He leaned back with a little more weight and I did the same. I was glad that I was leaning against him, I felt less cold, but more then that. I was glad that I had someone to touch.

His voice was soft and blank, almost monotone. I hadn't heard him speak, really talk since we got in this shed. Never heard him string together sentences. He had a very good voice, soft and husky and warm. "When I was fifteen, I had sex with my neighbor. He was thirty-two. He was a construction worker, and I saw him working on the roads near the school. He would take off his shirt, and he would glisten in the sun."

His voice. That soft sweet voice saying those words. I was hard. If he turned around he would see. I drew my knees to my chest with my arms dangling between my legs to cover my crotch, feeling blood rush to my neck and cheeks and forehead and chest and cock.

He shrugged. "I was hanging around, following him. I thought he was my friend. He seduced me and we had sex in the shed in his backyard. Five times. Then he moved and I never heard from him again."

"Shit." I whispered. It was getting quieter outside. I could hear a single sleepy bird twittering, and I was excited for a moment, before I remembered that at my house the birds were sometimes awake at three AM. Surreal. For the first time I realized just how surreal this was.

But I was curious. "He was more then twice your age. Weren't you scared?"

He shrugged, I could feel it. "Yeah. But, I figured... Nevermind."

I turned my head and I could see the side of his face and his shoulder and the line of his leg. My eyes were adjusted to the dark. "What?"

He shook his head, and said, "I don't want to talk about it." With such force and gravity that I knew better then to ask again.

There was a lull again. He was shivering, but wide awake. I wasn't looking back at him, so I'm not sure how I knew he was awake. Probably I read it in the minute movements of his body against me. My erection slowly faded, and I was relieved. It would be better for us if we just got out of here with nothing else to traumatize us.

I leaned my head back until the back of my skull rested on his shoulder. He did the same, so his head was tilted back, his ear pressing against my ear. When I looked far to my right, I could see the curve of his soft blonde lashes lit up in the faintest of eldritch starlight.

"We're the worst Goats ever." I said softly. He chuckled softly. It was good to hear him laugh. I felt kind of fragile after he had chewed me out.

"Jason?" He whispered. His voice was right by my ear, soft and husky. I could feel the tendons in his neck move as his jaw moved, I could feel them against my shoulder. "If I ask you something, will you promise not to get angry?"

"Promise."

He didn't ask me anything. What he did was turn his head slightly and kiss the corner of my mouth. It was a quick kiss, over in a moment, but the place where his soft lips had touched me burned, as if by the sun.

Neither of us moved, we were still back to back, our heads draped back over each other's shoulders. Mine on his left shoulder, his on my left shoulder. My left ear brushed his ear, and I could feel him tensing up slightly.

I couldn't think of anything to say or do. After a few moments my muscles relaxed and I leaned slightly harder.

"Say something." He whispered, he begged. I could hear the frightened edge of tears in his voice.

I turned my head. His cheek was soft against my cheek, there was a little stubble, the faint softest kind. I pressed my lips against the corner of his mouth, and I felt him tense up again.

I moved back to my original position. My heart was pounding. There it was, the first time I had ever kissed another guy. He was breathing faster, I could feel it in the way his shoulder blades slid under the skin. We had been naked all night, but now I was more vividly aware that we were naked together, naked and touching. My hands went down to demurely cup my crotch, even though there was no way for him to see it unless we detached, broke off from where we were attached at the back. He couldn't see it, but I still had to cover my cock, which had engorged partially with blood.

"Jason? I really like you." His voice was hoarse, rough with emotion.

This time, when he started to turn his head, I turned mine too. I could see his eyes in the dark, like little chips of sky in the middle of this dark dank shed. His mouth was part-open like a soft pink flower. His mouth was beautiful.

We kissed for real. His mouth was soft and warm. I could feel him breathing, I was intimately connected to him. My neck was starting to feel sore from the slightly awkward angle, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes, and felt his breath feathering on my upper lip from his nose.

His tongue peeked out of his mouth, touching softly against the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth, and our tongues met like nervous animals. I lifted my hand and cradled the back of his head, his hair was matted from rubbing against my head and shoulder, soft, and warm.

I opened my mouth wider, sucking his tongue gently. He made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, a little squeak.

I broke the kiss. "What are we doing?" My head felt dizzy, woozy. The pot had worn off hours ago, I was high on his kiss.