misunderstood-7

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Subject: Misunderstood, Chapter 7 (Gay Adult/Youth) MISUNDERSTOOD By Wes Leigh This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation by visiting fty/. Chapter Seven While Gray Langston stared at the stars over Oklahoma, hundreds of miles to the southwest, Andrew sat in a park swing, staring at those same stars. Andrew was frustrated. He felt foolish doing it, but he whispered an urgent plea as he stared up into the sky. "I can't do this alone. I need help. No one around here cares about me anymore. No one loves me. My parents say they love me, but I can see how disappointed they are. They're probably at home right now, talkin' about me, discussin' what they oughta do with their trouble-makin' son. I can't take it anymore. Please send me someone who will understand me and love me." Andrew slipped out of the swing and threw the swing as hard as he could behind him. It just wasn't fair! And as suddenly as his anger had flared up, it disappeared to be replaced by loneliness. He missed having Stephen hold him so secure in his strong arms. That's what he wanted more than anything. A nice, tight hug. He wished his dad would hug him once, just one time, but he knew that would never happen. He kicked a rock in frustration and started walking home. When he got back, he wouldn't even talk to his parents. Nope. He'd march straight past them and go to his room and hug King and go to bed. As he walked, he thought about how hard things were getting at school. Strangely enough, it had been better for him when the other kids were ignoring him. Things were so much worse now. For one thing, he had to watch his step in the cafeteria. Feet were always shooting out unexpectedly, trying to trip him and send him crashing to the floor with his tray of food. In the hallway, no one avoided him anymore. Instead, shoulders slammed against his, knocking his books out of his arms if he didn't have a secure hold on them. Elbows jabbed him in the back when he wasn't looking, leaving painful bruises. The teachers never stopped it. Maybe they just didn't see what was going on. Dallas had seen it once. Two kids had slammed into Andrew at the same time, bashing him against the lockers with a loud crash. Dallas had been looking their way when it happened. His eyes had connected with Andrew's for just a second, then he'd looked away and pretended he'd seen nothing. That had really hurt. He'd thought Dallas was his friend, but it turned out Dallas wasn't any different from the rest of the kids. It sucked so bad being alone. He looked up at the stars and made a wish. Whispering, he said, "I wish I had just one friend who will hold me in his arms and love me no matter what." *** To avoid trouble the next day at school, Andrew stopped walking in the field behind the gym during lunch and recess. Instead, he found a quiet spot under a tree where he sat and tried not to cry. He'd promised himself he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing his tears, so he sat down in the shade of a tree and began thinking about the extra chores on the list stuck to the refrigerator. He planned to clean the storage shed after school. It might take two or three nights to finish, so he wanted to get started on it first. He was preoccupied with his plans for the shed, so he didn't notice the other boys coming up to him from the opposite side of the tree. They walked around the tree and stood in a loose circle, facing him, hands on their hips. Brent, again, was the self-appointed spokesman. "Hey, faggot boy, sucked any teachers lately?" Andrew looked up slowly, squinting into the sun behind Brent. "Leave me alone, Brent," Andrew said, surprising himself, for his voice held steady and didn't crack. "Why should I?" Brent asked with a snarl. "I haven't done anything to you, Brent. Just leave me alone." Andrew repeated himself, hoping Brent would get the message and back off. But Brent wasn't ready to let it go. "I guess we didn't make it clear to you. Queers like you don't deserve to go to a good school like this." "Yeah," Andrew replied, "I heard you the first time." He was so sick of Brent pushing him around. Who did he think he was? Andrew decided he wasn't going to take anymore shit off Brent or anyone else. He stared up at Brent and said, "I guess you think this school is only for pervy little boys who get off telling stories about their big brothers fucking every girl in town." Most of the boys gasped and turned to stare at Brent, whose face was turning bright purple with anger. Brent's eyes gleamed with tears of rage as he rushed forward and threw himself on Andrew, trying to wrestle the smaller boy onto his back. But Andrew fought back. He grappled with Brent, managing to pull his knees up to his chest and kick Brent away. Brent landed hard, then jumped up and readied himself to leap on Andrew again, but a tall red-headed youth shoved his way through the other boys and placed himself between Andrew and Brent. It was Dallas. "Cut it out, you guys!" Dallas shouted. "You want another week of detention? Or maybe suspension this time?" Brent wiped his cheek. There was bit of blood there from landing hard on the ground after Andrew kicked him off. "You gonna take his side again, Dallas? He fucking got Father Downing fired. The best teacher we've ever had in this damned school, and that little queer got him fired!" Andrew shook his head in frustration and shouted, "Y'all think I wanted that to happen? That I wanted to get Stephen--Father Downing--in trouble? I DIDN'T WANT THAT! I liked him too!" "That's just it," Brent snapped. "You liked him a little too much!" "Shut the fuck up, Brent," Dallas snapped. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about." "I know enough," Brent spat. "I know Drew-Drew-Eyes-So-Blue is a faggot boy who got Father Downing fired!" Dallas grabbed Brent by the front of his shirt and shoved him roughly against the trunk of the tree. "Father Downing got himself fired by having sex with a student. That's what the police said. Father Downing admitted it, and now he's going to jail for it. It's not Andrew's fault." Brent shook his head. "I can't believe you're defending that skinny little faggot, Dallas. Choir was one of your favorite classes. You were Father Downing's helper in the church choir, too. Don't you care that he's going to jail?" Dallas released Brent and stood back. "Of course, I care. I'm going to miss Father Downing too because--" Dallas paused, shaking his head. He couldn't say it. He glared at all the boys standing around him and said, "Leave Drew alone. He didn't do anything wrong. Next one of you who messes with him will answer to me. Got it?" The other boys mumbled and grunted agreement as they drifted off, leaving Dallas and Andrew alone. Andrew stared at Dallas. He swallowed nervously and asked, "You really believe this ain't my fault?" Dallas nodded. Andrew stuck out his hand, waiting for Dallas to do the same. Then he shook Dallas' hand and said, "Thanks, dude. I really appreciate you standin' up for me." Dallas shrugged. "I'm sorry everyone is treating you like shit, Drew. And I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner." Andrew put his hand on Dallas' shoulder. "But you finally did say somethin' and that's more than anyone else has done for me." The bell rang, and the two boys turned and began walking toward the school entrance. Dallas threw his arm around Andrew's shoulder and gave him a quick hug, then ran on ahead, leaving Andrew with a surprised smile on his face. *** Andrew hoped school would be better now that Dallas had his back. It wasn't. The hate, the teasing, the names all continued. It was simply better hidden. Kids began mouthing the words `eyes of blue' whenever Andrew met their gaze. Slips of paper batman escort (http://www.bayanmap.com/k/batman-escort) appeared in his locker with vulgar drawings on them. Whenever Andrew walked into the boy's restroom, the other boys grabbed their crotches protectively and pretended to be scared of Andrew, laughing as they hurried to leave. During athletics class one day, they were told to run sprints from the floor to the top of the bleachers and back down again. As Andrew was running down, he felt a foot shove against his own, tangling his legs and sending him tumbling down the bleachers. He landed hard and felt searing pain in his right wrist. The other boys laughed at first, until one of them realized Andrew was badly injured. "Coach! Coach, Andrew fell and hurt himself," he yelled. Andrew sat crosslegged, squeezing his eyes shut against the agony radiating through his arm. He hugged his injured hand to his chest, rocking back and forth and sucking in frantic breaths. Coach Williamson trotted up and knelt beside Andrew. "What happened, Wright." "Fell. Wrist bent back hard. Really hurts, Coach." Andrew took a deep breath and his eyelids fluttered. He pitched forward, narrowly avoiding smashing into a railing when the coach caught him and eased him down onto his side. Pointing at one of the boys, Williamson yelled, "You. Go get the nurse. Now!" *** The doctor approached Alan and Dayna with a grim smile on his face. "Andrew has suffered several serious injuries, but he's responding well and should recover completely. He has a mild concussion. That's the most worrisome of his injuries, so we're monitoring him closely. He also has two cracked ribs and a broken wrist. We've sedated him, primarily to help with pain management, but also to give his body a head start on healing." "When can we see him?" Dayna asked, stifling a sob. "I'll take you in now. Just don't expect much from him. He won't be very coherent." The doctor led them down the hall and into one of the ER cubicles. Andrew was reclining in a bed with leads attached to his chest and forehead. Both eyes were closed. One eye was swollen, and the cheek underneath was puffy. He was breathing, slow and steady, and appeared to be sound asleep. One arm was wrapped in an inflatable cast, immobilizing him from his elbow to his fingertips. An IV was dripping clear fluid into his other arm. Dayna reached out to take Andrew's uninjured hand. Before marrying Alan, she'd worked as an emergency room nurse. She'd seen her share of traumatic injuries, many far worse than what Andrew had suffered, but somehow, it was so much harder when it was your own son in that bed with an IV in his arm and electrical sensors attached to his pale white chest. She placed her fingertips ever so carefully on his shoulder, then bent over and kissed him on the forehead. Andrew's eyes fluttered open briefly. He moaned and whispered, "Momma?" "Yes, Andrew. Momma's here." He groaned again and took a deep breath. "I ain't feelin' so good, Momma." She gasped and forced herself to smile. "I know, baby, but the doctor said you're doing great and you'll be feeling better soon." The faintest of smiles lit up Andrew's face. "I hope so, Momma. Is Dad here?" She turned to look back at Alan, who was standing at the foot of the bed. Alan stared at Andrew, blinking his eyes slowly. He gulped and placed his hand on Andrew's knee, squeezing gently. "I'm right here, son." "I didn't mean to fall, Dad." "I know, son. Don't try to talk. Just rest and get better." Dayna bit her lip, hoping this was a sign of change in her husband. Andrew sighed and turned his head slightly, falling asleep quickly. The machine next to his bed beeped and displayed his blood pressure and heartrate. Alan found a chair and moved it behind his wife so she could sit at Andrew's side. *** The doorbell rang while Alan was eating dinner alone in the kitchen. He'd left Dayna at the hospital with Andrew; she'd refused to leave his side, insisting that she'd be spending the night with him. He put his fork down and shoved his chair back from the table, irritated that someone had chosen this moment to come to his front door. Glancing through the peep hole, he saw young Dallas Anderson. Now that was odd. What did the boy want? He opened the door and said, "Hello, Dallas." "Hello, Mr. Wright. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Alan shrugged. "Nothing important. What do you need, Dallas?" "I heard Andrew was taken to the hospital. Is he okay?" "Well, he's banged up a bit, but he should be fine in a few days." Dallas sighed with relief. "Great. That's good news, Mr. Wright." Dallas stood there, trying to get up the nerve to say something else, but having a difficult time of it. "Is there something else, Dallas?" Dallas didn't want the other kids to think he was some kind of tattletale, but he felt so guilty about what had happened to Andrew. Everyone said it was an accident. That he tripped and fell running sprints on the bleachers. But Dallas wondered if maybe someone hadn't `helped' Andrew trip. If he'd only said something sooner about all the bullying, Andrew might not have gotten hurt like this. "Dallas?" Alan wanted to finish his dinner. "Anything else?" Dallas swallowed. "No, sir. I just wanted to be sure Andrew was okay. Tell him I hope he gets better soon." "I will. Bye, son." "Bye, Mr. Wright." Dallas turned and walked down the sidewalk, chiding himself for being such a chicken shit. He'd have to keep a closer eye on Andrew now, he told himself. Can't let anything else happen to him. Just can't. *** Andrew was able to come home from the hospital the next day. His head ached, but the concussion was apparently healing quickly with no long-term effects. His ribs were sore and wrapped in a tight bandage to help manage the pain. His right arm was now in a plaster cast from his fingers halfway to his elbow. Everything was harder to do with his hand in a cast. Eating with his left hand. Turning the pages in the book he was reading. Feeding King. Even taking a piss was a challenge. Everything was backward, and it felt weird holding his cock in his left hand while he peed. Jacking off was strange too. His left hand didn't seem to know what to do, but his cock liked it just fine. It almost felt like it was someone else's hand rubbing him down there. With a little soap and hot water, he could close his eyes and imagine that it was Stephen or Dallas sliding his skin up and down, making the wonderful tingles start up. He couldn't play with his balls at the same time because of the cast, so he had to take turns moving his left hand down to his balls for a hard squeeze, then back up to his cock, rubbing the slippery top and sliding the skin up and down before jumping back down to squeeze his balls again. Everything seemed to slow down, and the tingles took longer to build up. When they did come, they were stronger than ever before, making his body shake when he squirted into the sink. It was so fucking awesome! The only bad part was that after he squirted, he missed Stephen and all the fun things Stephen had taught him. He wished there was some way he could talk to his friend one more time, but that wasn't ever going to happen. He knew that. As for his parents, they treated him nice enough. His mom tried to do everything for him until he begged her to stop and let him do stuff on his own. His dad didn't yell at him at all the first day he was home. That was weird, and Andrew thought maybe things were going to be different between them, but then the very next day things turned nasty between them. Andrew was watching television when a commercial began for some new HIV drug. Two guys in the ad were hugging each other, and Alan saw it. His face turned red and he snarled, "The hottest pits in Hell are waiting for men like that, and Stephen Downing will be at the very bottom." Andrew felt his stomach twisting in a knot. His dad could be so hateful sometimes. What would he say if he knew about Andrew's horrible secret? Andrew leaned over and hugged King around the neck. Whispering into King's ear, Andrew said, "Must bayburt escort (http://www.bayanmap.com/k/bayburt-escort) be nice to know who God ain't gonna forgive." "What are you mumbling about, Son?" Alan asked. "You need to learn to speak up and say whatever's on your mind." Andrew had to think fast. There was no way he was going to say what he'd just been thinking, so he said the first thing that came into his head. "I was just wondering how Father Downing is doing right now." That was the wrong thing to say. Alan snapped, "Getting far better treatment than he deserves! I can tell you that much." Andrew turned to look at his dad. "But ... why?" "What do you mean, `Why?' Explain yourself, son." Andrew gulped, nervously. "He's in jail. He's gonna be there for a good, long time. Ain't that enough?" Alan's face turned bright red. "He violated his position as a priest in God's Holy Church! He twisted your thinking and manipulated your behavior, leading you to commit unholy perversions INSIDE GOD'S DWELLING! He should be locked away in a dungeon for the rest of his life, but they'll probably let him out in a few years so he can do this again. He deserves far worse than prison, Andrew. He should be paraded naked through town with the word ABOMINATION branded into his chest and have his testicles removed so he never has the urge to harm a child again!" "Alan!" Dayna shouted from the kitchen, where she'd heard Alan's ranting speech. "You know I'm right, Dayna." Turning to Andrew, Alan pointed his finger at Andrew and exclaimed, "One day you'll see how Downing took advantage of you, and you'll feel the same righteous anger I feel right now." Andrew shook his head violently from side to side. "No. I'll never hate Stephen. He was my friend, and he didn't manipulate me!" The blood drained from Alan's face. He was pale white now. "He didn't manipulate you? What are you saying, Andrew?" Andrew began crying. He'd already said too much. He jumped up and ran out of the room, King trotting after him. Alan studied the boy. He was beginning to suspect that Andrew had been a willing participant in Downing's detestable acts. He'd have to look for that pamphlet Father Murphy had given him. It might be time to consider taking special action for Andrew's own good. Dayna stared at Alan. She didn't understand her husband. Couldn't he see that the boy was emotionally and physically fragile right now? He'd been through a terrible trauma and a serious fall, all within a short period of time. What Andrew needed was time to heal, and Alan wasn't giving him that. In his room, Andrew fell into the bed, wincing when his ribs sent pain lancing through his body. He felt a cold nose prodding his neck and turned to see King's big face inches from his own. King licked Andrew's nose. Andrew reached out and scratched King behind the ear. "Even if Dad ends up hating me, you'll still love me, won't ya', big guy?" King answered with another sloppy kiss. *** It was a relief to be heading back to school two days later. His mom had been a great nurse, but he wanted to escape her constant care and his dad's hateful glares. He was going to have an awful hard time writing with his left hand, but maybe that would mean no homework assignments. Probably not, but he could dream. He hoped things would be different now. Maybe the other kids would cut him some slack, with him being hurt and all. He hadn't told anyone about the foot that tripped him at the top of the bleachers. He took the fault all on himself, explaining that he'd tried to turn too quickly and tangled his own feet together. Dallas had quizzed him pretty hard about the fall, but Andrew stuck to his story, even though he could tell Dallas didn't believe him. Andrew didn't want any more trouble. If everyone would just let it go, maybe things could get back to normal. His first day back, Dallas sat down across from Andrew at the lunch table. "What are you doin', Dallas?" "Eating with you." "Why?" " `Cause I want to. You got a problem with that?" Andrew rolled his eyes. "I don't need a bodyguard, Dallas." Andrew took a drink of milk and munched angrily on his sandwich. He wasn't a little baby and he resented Dallas treating him like one. Dallas shrugged. "I didn't say you do, Andrew. All I said is I'm gonna be sticking around to make sure no more `accidents' happen to you." "The guys are treatin' me better now, Dallas. Maybe there ain't nothin' to worry about anymore." "Yeah, well, if I'm around, there for sure won't be any problems, right?" "You can't go with me everywhere, dude." "Maybe not, but we're gonna eat lunch together and hang out together after school." Andrew frowned. A month ago, he would have pissed himself with excitement at the thought of hanging out with Dallas. Now, he felt like an animal in the zoo. Everyone would be staring at him with his zookeeper pal. But what could he do? "Fine," Andrew grumped, taking another big bite from his sandwich. Dallas smiled, happy he'd won the argument. Two of Dallas' fellow eighth graders came up and sat down on each side of him. Danny, the goofier of the two, grabbed a carrot stick off Dallas tray and took a bite out of it before throwing it back. "How can you eat this shit?" he asked, clutching his throat. Dallas picked up the carrot stick and stuck it in Danny's shirt pocket. "That's yours now. Eat it or trash it, but don't be taking a bite out of it and throwing it back on my tray." They all laughed as Danny pulled the carrot out of his pocket and tossed it in his mouth. "Hurry up and finish," Danny said, munching. "Malcolm brought a basketball and we wanna shoot some hoops before lunch is over." Dallas was tempted. He loved basketball, but he didn't want to leave Andrew alone. Andrew felt relief. This was his chance to get rid of his guardian angel. "Go on, dude. I'll be fine." Dallas sighed and said, "Okay. Just be careful, man." Andrew chuckled. "Ain't gonna be a problem." Dallas finished his drink and stood up. "Okay. See ya' after school." Andrew nodded and snapped off a quick salute. "Yes, sir." Dallas rolled his eyes and slapped Danny on the shoulder. "Let's go." Andrew watched them leave, then opened his lunch bag and took out a package of cookies. Oreos! His favorite. He crumpled up the bag and stood up. He felt like eating his cookies while walking around the track course. It would be nice to get some fresh air. He tossed his bag in the trash bin on his way out of the cafeteria. As he munched his Oreos, he walked down the path behind the gym, not noticing the three boys following him. Andrew bit into the cookie, relishing the creamy goodness of the stuffing inside. He loved the chocolate wafers, but the vanilla filling was awesome! He couldn't really twist them apart to eat the insides first. It was too hard to do with his right hand in a cast, so he had to eat them like everyone else, one bite at a time. That was okay, though. It was still an Oreo, after all. As he rounded the corner of the gym, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. He turned around just in time to see Brent Williams running straight at him with two other boys trotting along behind. Brent didn't stop but crashed into Andrew, knocking him onto the ground and sending his cookies flying. The three boys pulled up and laughed at Andrew. "Oh, what happened, Drew, Drew, Eyes So Blue?" Brent asked with a sneer. "Did you fall down again?" Andrew rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto his feet. Getting knocked down like that hurt like hell. His cracked ribs were throbbing again, and he pressed his arm against his side, gasping for breath. He hated to admit it, but Dallas was right. Things weren't getting any better. Brent laughed. "Faggots are so soft and squishy. You gotta be sooooo careful with them, or they might break." All three laughed. Andrew felt his eyes begin to water. "Oh, no, the gay boy is gonna cry now. It's okay, Drew. We'll still let you suck our dicks." Hot tears collected and dripped down his cheeks. Tears of rage, not sorrow, not pain. Andrew stepped forward and swung his right fist, covered bebek escort (http://www.bayanmap.com/k/istanbul-escort/avrupa-yakasi-escort/bebek-escort) in the hard plaster cast, straight into Brent's nose. Blood flew everywhere in a crimson explosion, and Brent's head snapped back, his eyes open wide with shock. Andrew didn't stop there. He brought his knee up into Brent's groin, as hard as he could, feeling the soft tissue smashing upward into Brent's body. Brent sucked in his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, then fell in a heap to the ground. Andrew knelt down, rolled Brent onto his back, and began punching Brent's face with his left fist, hammering his tormentor's taunting eyes and filthy mouth, pouring all his frustration into every blow. The other two boys stood watching for a few seconds, too stunned to move at first, then grabbed Andrew by the arms and dragged him off Brent's bloodied body. Andrew kicked out as they dragged him away, catching Brent in the side before they could pull him out of reach. Other students came running around the corner of the building to see what was going on. One girl screamed, and a boy turned and ran to get a teacher. Brent's rescuers held Andrew firmly by the arms, but the fight had left him and he didn't try to get away. The tears kept falling from his eyes. He shook himself loose from the boys who'd been holding him. Staring at the other students, he shouted, "I get it! My eyes are blue! You don't have to remind me anymore. And I know how you hate me, even though you don't understand a FUCKING THING!" He walked over into the grass, picked up an Oreo, blew the grass off, and ate it in one bite. Then he turned and held his head high as he faced the other students and the teachers running around the corner of the building. *** The principal and head of the school's board of directors sat on one side of the table. Dayna and Andrew Wright sat across from them. Father Murphy sat between the opposing parties, to act as a mediator should it be necessary. The principal opened a folder and scanned the contents. "Mr. and Mrs. Wright, here is what we have so far. Your son apparently initiated a fight with another student, Brent Williams. We have Brent and two other students claiming the fight was unprovoked." "And you believe that?" Dayna said, interrupting. The principal shook his head. "Fights like these are rarely unprovoked. I'm certain words were exchanged first, and I'm equally certain we'll never hear exactly what was said and who said it. Boys this age are notorious for keeping such things to themselves. We have interviewed dozens of students, and so far all we've learned is that there has been some teasing of Andrew because of his unfortunate involvement in Father Downing's criminal behavior." "So you believe the teasing led to the fight?" Alan asked. "Most likely, although that still doesn't excuse Andrew attacking Brent. Andrew was obviously the aggressor, and Brent suffered significant injuries to his nose, eyes, and mouth. Andrew, on the other hand, was unharmed." "A concussion, two cracked ribs, and a broken wrist are what? Minor inconveniences?" Dayna demanded to know. The head of the school board leaned forward, frowning, and replied, "We acknowledge that Andrew was injured prior to the fight, but you must admit those injuries came as a result of his own misstep, not from another student attacking him." Dayna glared at the man. "My nursing certification expired a few years ago, sir. But after four years in hospital ER's, I'm a pretty good judge of traumatic injuries and what caused them. Are you going to sit there and tell me that Andrew's injuries were the result of his own clumsiness?" He lowered his eyes, silently admitting that even he didn't believe what he'd just said. Father Murphy spoke up. "I hope that I might say something to help us all move forward to a solution we can all live with." When everyone else nodded, Murphy said, "There is no doubt that the last few weeks have been tremendously difficult for young Andrew Gabriel. First there was the abuse he endured at the hands of Stephen Downing, a shocking and unacceptable event that the Church strenuously condemns. Next, the abuse became public knowledge, exposing Andrew to shame and ridicule. I'm sure we can all imagine how the other children have reacted to this. No doubt there has been name-calling, taunting, and teasing. Then we have the unfortunate accident in which Andrew was seriously injured. Whether it was truly an accident or not, let us keep in mind that Andrew has had great physical pain added to the cross he's been forced to bear. A cross that would be heavy for any adult, yet he is only 12, a mere child. Surely we, as adults, can take all this into consideration and come up with an appropriate response that will be beneficial for all parties involved." The principal nodded and cleared his throat. "We must keep in mind that fighting, whatever caused it, mustn't be allowed. I suggest Andrew receive a one-week suspension. During his time away, we request he receive counselling, either through the Church or through a private party. At the same time, we will hold assemblies here at the school to address the bullying Andrew was subjected to. We will make it clear that such behavior will not be tolerated and that anyone doing it will face suspensions of their own." Dayna and Alan looked at each other. Dayna nodded. Alan turned to the others and said, "That seems reasonable. Father Murphy, would you be willing to provide the counselling?" Father Murphy nodded. "Of course. Anything to help." They all stood up and shook hands. The school officials assured the Wrights they would do everything possible to make the Academy of Saint Thomas Aquinas a safe environment for their son. The Wrights promised to work diligently with Andrew so that he would be able to focus on school instead of external issues. On their way out of the room, Alan Wright spoke briefly with Father Murphy. While working with Andrew, perhaps some of the techniques used at the Retreat might be attempted? Father Murphy smiled and assured Alan that he knew exactly what would be useful. *** "Don't say I told you so," Andrew told Dallas. Dallas grinned. "I told--" Andrew punched Dallas, interrupting, "I said don't say it!" Dallas rubbed his arm. "Wow. A guy gets in one fight and all of a sudden he's a bad ass." Andrew looked around his bedroom nervously. The door was open and his parents were in the living room. "Keep your voice down, dude. Don't let my parents hear ya' talkin' like that." "Sorry, man. Won't happen again. Promise." "So how's school been?" "Mostly boring, except for yesterday. The principal held a long-winded assembly. Mandatory for everybody. Tried to make it sound like it was about bullying in general, but everyone knew he was talking about you. A lot of people with red faces, that's for sure." "Great," Andrew said, sighing. "Just what I need. People gettin' in more trouble because of me." Dallas stared at Andrew, chewing his lip. "Bro, how can I say this without making you want to punch me again? What Brent and those other little jerks did was wrong! They should have been the ones to get suspended, not you. You know it, and so do I!" "Yeah, right, Dallas! And that ain't never gonna happen, and I know it, and so do you." Dallas smirked, then chuckled and punched Andrew gently in the chest. "Yeah. You're right, bro. Might as well forget about that, huh?" "That's all I'm saying," Andrew said with a sigh. "Fine. Then screw those guys. Let's have some fun. You think your parents would let you go down to the park with me?" Andrew shrugged. "Probably not. I'm grounded. Maybe if YOU asked. They like YOU." "Yeah. You're lucky you got me for a friend. Come on. You've been stuck in this stinky room for too long. You need to get out." Andrew sniffed. "My room stinks?" "You ought to get some of that spray that smells like flowers. This room smells like mine when I've been--" Dallas paused, suddenly realizing what Andrew's room smelled like and what he'd almost admitted. He chuckled and said, "Just get you some of the spray stuff or open a window. Do something!" Andrew ducked his head and smiled. He had a good idea what Dallas was talking about, and now he was beginning to wonder if there might be a chance to do some `stuff' like that again with a friend. The end of MISUNDERSTOOD, Chapter Seven