A Boy Called Brook: Autumn 2 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schuman   Back to school with mixed acceptance. Dad runs into some problems and Brook and Brooke nudge their relationship forward.

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Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who has commented so far! I truly appreciate your support! Please! Leave a review, it can be good or bad (not too harsh please!) I am always willing to learn! ~Clara.
 
 
Autumn 2
 

I guided us to our first period English class in the Academic Wing of the Tech High School - the rest of the building was dedicated to the various trades. When we got there, Mr Casey, our homeroom/period one teacher was standing by the door and he stopped us and asked our names before referring to his paperwork.

"Alright... Chapin, take that locker. The combination is on the masking tape. Pull that off and write down the combination before you throw away the tape. When you forget it, and you probably will forget it, everyone does, I have it in my files. Kerr, take the locker to the right of Chapin. Same thing goes for the combination. Questions? No? Good. Next?"

"He's pleasant," Brooke whispered as we crossed the hall to the lockers.

I shrugged. "Actually, he's ok. I think he just comes on kind of strong at first to look like a hard ass, but you'll like him."

"Chapin!" I heard from behind me. I turned and Mr Casey motioned for me to follow him down the corridor a bit. Once we were separated from the rest of the kids, he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry if I come across as dense, Brook, but I just realized who you are. You... umm... you want to fill me in on what's going on with you?"

I shrugged a little. "Nothing's going on, Mr Casey."

He cleared his throat. "Ok, look, I apologize if that seemed aggressive. Forgive me, I'm a sixty two year old man and these things are new to me. What I mean is... and I'm not trying to pry, I'm trying to be helpful... is this how you're going to be coming to school from now on? Dressed as a female, I mean."

"Yes, sir," I answered, looking around. "Actually, I came in and talked to the principal and the head guidance councilor a few days ago and I kind of hoped that they'd have let you all know about it ahead of time."

He scoffed at that. "Well, of course they didn't, but that's to be expected. Why would we expect anyone getting paid six figures to actually do their job well. Never mind that... Ok, Chapin, this is fine, but it's going to be challenging for a lot of people. You know that, right?"

I shrugged, noncommittally.

"Don't give me that, Chapin. You're not stupid. You know that no one has ever gone broke underestimating the intellect of the American public, and that goes triple for the American teenager in the American public school system, so don't be coy. You're going to be facing a whole lot of stupid and you know it, so when that happens, what are you going to do?"

"Stand my ground, I guess."

"Good," Mr Casey nodded and leaned closer, "and when that doesn't work, you hustle your ass right up here to my classroom and you let me handle the jackasses for you. You understand me?"

I don't know if I was smiling at his silly, stern expression or at my relief at his overly protective words, but I smiled, nonetheless.

"Wipe that smile off your face and tell me you understand," he demanded.

"Yes sir, Mr Casey. I understand."

"Alright, then," he nodded and returned his attention to his paperwork. "Then get your butt into my class and take a text book off the pile. Open it to the page on the board and get ready to start your senior year."

"Yes sir." I started back towards the classroom, but stopped and turned. "Thank you, Ms Casey."

He didn't look up. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Chapin."

Homeroom/period one ran long so that first day things could get done, but it went ok. There were a few people in the class giving me the sideeye, but all in all no problems. We were passing through the hallways to period two when a girl tapped me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," she said.

I turned and recognized her. Her name was Alex Winter. I'd gone to school with her since second grade, but I don't think I'd spoken to her once in all of that time. "Hi," I said, confused that she was speaking to me now.

"So... you're Brook, right?"

"Yeah," I said, hoping to just continue on my way.

"So... what's this all about?"

"It's just me being me, Alex."

I turned and started to head to my period two class, but she moved in front of me. "So do you still have your cock, or what?"

I have to admit, I was surprised that the first person to attack me was Alex. Like I said, I'd known her a long time, but my existence had never seemed to register on her radar before. I'm surprised it suddenly did then.

"Alex, I have to get to class," I said, as I maneuvered to get past, but she stopped me.

"I'm guessing you don't," she said standing way too close to me. "I'm guessing that you had it cut off and thrown in the trash somewhere, didn't you? I mean... why would a guy... any guy... who has a cock want to be this big a pussy?"

I wanted to slap the superior smile she was wearing right off of her face, but I just said. "Get out of my way, Alex, or I'll have to report you to a teacher."

She nodded. "See. You ARE a pussy."

"And you ARE an asshole," I said, but immediately regretted sinking to her level.

"We're not going to get suspended on the first day of school, are we ladies?" a teacher I'd seen at school before, but didn't know, said as she came up beside us. She folded her arms and looked at both of us.

"I'm just trying to get to class," I said.

The teacher nodded and looked at Alex. "Then let her pass, Alex," she said. "Unless there's a reason I need to have you both of you accompany me to the main office."

Alex rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'll let the little freak pass, but I'm going to have my parents call the school to complain about me having to share the hallways with a fucked up little pervert like him."

"And we have a winner!" The teacher clapped her hands. "Congratulations, Ms Winter!" she said to Alex. "You are going to be the first person to be suspended this year. Come on with me and we'll do the paperwork to make it all official. I'm sure your parents will be proud."

Alex looked at me and gave me an evil smile. "I hope you don't think this is over, queer-bait. I'll be back in a couple of days."

"NOW, Alex," the teacher said, with no patience in her voice. As soon as Alex stepped towards the direction of the office, the teacher looked at me and asked, "What's your name?"

"Brook Chapin."

"Where are you headed?"

"L-227," I said.

"Well..." she waited, but didn't say anything, so I just waited until she continued, "... get a move on. I'll have the office call for you if they need you."

I looked past the teacher and saw Alex talking to a guy I knew named Cody, who was a big deal in the Automotive Academy. I knew he had a big, fast car, he played a lot of sports and he was really loud in the cafeteria, too. He was a buddy of Jack Gallagher, Alex's boyfriend, too, but that's about all I knew about him. As Alex talked to him, she pointed at me and Cody looked my way and nodded to Alex. Rather than waiting around to see what they were discussing, I just looked at the teacher and said, "Yes, ma'am," and headed to my next class.

For the most part, I went unnoticed in my next class. The teacher looked at my name on his list, then looked at me, checked his list again, then shook his head in apparent disgust, but that was about it. I could live with that.

Periods three and four were in the kitchen. The Culinary Academy worked in alternating weeks. On the first week we had double periods in which we would learn about recipes, techniques and the history of food and food traditions. On the second week, we'd work in the kitchen preparing actual food for pretty much the entire day. And since I was a senior, that meant that I'd be working on the team that prepared food for the restaurant that we ran at the school. So, I knew it was going to be an exciting year.

We had several Culinary Arts teachers, but Mrs Simpson ran the program and she was running my class that first day. She welcomed us all back and talked about the program, reminding us that we used a lot of dangerous and unforgiving tools and appliances. "You screw around in my kitchen," she said firmly, "and you'll find yourself thrown out of this program so quickly your head will spin."

We all nodded, knowing she meant what she said.

"Now," she said, changing her tone, "something exciting to discuss. Someone tell me what the word 'sous' means in French."

A lot of people put up their hands and she called on a girl a few seats to my left.

"It means 'under,' Mrs Simpson."

Mrs Simpson nodded. "That's right. So, a 'sous-chef,' is an 'underchef,' or a person who is second in command in the kitchen. Now, as high achieving seniors, you will all be working in the restaurant kitchen this year. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen, the restaurant kitchen is MY KITCHEN and nobody else's. BUT... I need some help running MY kitchen, so I will need two sous-chefs to oversee their classmates. Who will they be? Well, that's up to you. Cooking is a competitive field, boys and girls, and becoming one of my sous-chefs is a competitive process."

We all looked around at each other and wondered who would end up barking orders at the rest of us.

"First," Mrs Simpson continued, "you must register to be in competition for the sous-chef positions. You can do that in our online classroom. I do not care how gifted a cook you are, if you do not put yourself in competition for one of these positions, I will not consider you for one. I will not just pluck you out of obscurity and make you one of my number-twos. If you want the job, you have to go for it."

I saw several people already opening their school-supplied computers to sign-on and throw their names into the hat.

"Second, if you are in competition, you will have to pass some cooking challenges - I'm sure that past seniors have told you a few stories about these challenges."

We all chucked at that. Her cooking challenges were legendarily difficult.

"And finally, if you pass the first challenge, you will be put into a Kobayashi Maru situation. Does anyone understand that reference?"

I had no idea what she meant, but a classmate raised his hand and answered. "It's a Star Trek reference, Mrs Simpson. At Star Fleet Academy, there was a no-win computer simulation that Captain Kirk had to go through as part of his officer training and rather than let the computer win, Kirk cheated and hacked the computer so he could win in the no-win situation."

'Exactly," Mrs Simpson said. "So, each sous-chef candidate will face a, maybe not un-winnable, but very difficult situation, and he or she will have to figure out what to do to resolve that situation in a timely and professional manner. Is that clear?"

We all nodded.

"Alright, then," Mrs Simpson nodded, "there's a few minutes before the bell rings. You know where your storage cubbies are... go ahead and make sure you remember your combinations and you can leave anything you brought with you today in those."

The class stood and headed to our changing area. I was one of the last to get near Mrs Simpson's desk. Without looking up, she said, "Brook? How has your day gone so far?"

I stopped and shrugged. "Ok, for the most part, I guess. I had one runin with a girl. She got suspended for swearing at me and threatening me in front of a teacher."

Mrs Simpson nodded and raised her eyebrows. "So, the system has worked, so far."

"I guess," I chuckled and started to walk away.

"I noticed that you didn't immediately sign up for the sous-chef competition," she said, looking at our class' online classroom through her half-oval, reading glasses that sat low on her nose.

I shook my head.

"Why?"

I heaved a big sigh. "I don't know. I guess... with everything going on... I just wanted to keep a low profile for a while."

Mrs Simpson let out a derisive laugh. "The boy who was so quiet that I didn't even know he was a boy for three years shows up for his senior year looking like he is planning on being prom Queen and he says he wants to keep a low profile. Not likely, my friend."

I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there. Mrs Simpson looked at me over her half-glasses and said, "Brook, you and Henry Diaz are the best cooks in the class, and Henry is really locked into the recipes and taste-pallet that his family use at their restaurant. You are creative and subtle. You have a real flare for cooking. You could be and excellent chef someday, but you have always just hidden in the shadows. I was hoping that this new look might signal a change in your personality. Maybe make you a little more outgoing. You're a smart, talented, beautiful young person, Brook, but you need to step up and take charge of what you're going to become. I've heard great reports from Amanda at The Wireworks, but that's dinning room work. If you ever want to run your own kitchen..."

She turned her laptop towards me and waited.

"Well?" she asked. "I'm not going to let you off easy, Brook, but I'm not typing your name in for you either. You have to do that yourself."

I thought about it for a moment. God, did she really think that I cooked as well as Henry Diaz? I thought he was some kind of prodigy. He never made mistakes and seemed to know every technique before it was even taught to us. He had been taught how to cook the way the rest of us were taught to walk and talk - AND Henry spoke English, Spanish and Portuguese fluently! I guess that's how he cooked, too: Fluently.

"Brook?" She waited. "The bell's about to ring."

Oh, what the hell? I stepped forward and typed my name into her computer just as the bell rang.

Mrs Simpson gave me a self-satisfied smile. "Good," she said. "That was the easy part. The hard part is coming, but I wouldn't have encouraged you to sign up if I didn't think you could do it."

I nodded. "Ok. Thank you, Mrs Simpson."

"But Brook," she said as I started to leave, "that's all the help I plan to give you. From here on out, you're on your own."

"Yes, ma'am."

I was smiling as I got into the hallway and headed for the cafeteria.

"Hey," someone said as they hurried up from behind me to catch up.

I turned and saw Henry Diaz jogging up to walk beside me. "Hi?" I said, a little unsure as to why he'd want to talk to me, especially after what I'd experienced with Alex Winter, earlier.

He smiled and nodded. "Ummm... I know this is going to sound weird, but up until today, I kind of thought that you were a guy. I mean... didn't we have PE together for a semester in freshman year?"

I nodded. "I am a guy."

"No shit?" he said, then he laughed at himself. "Oops. Sorry. No kidding? Then why do you look like you do? Is it a bet or a dare or something?"

"No," I shook my head, "I just choose to look like this from now on. Does it bother you?"

He stuck out his bottom lip and thought for a moment. "No. I don't think it has any impact on me at all, actually. I probably had no right to ask. I was just curious and, well... you always seemed so... shy, I guess, and today you look like you kind of... blossomed." He laughed at his own uncomfortable wording.

I was going to thank him, but a boy, who I barely noticed, passing in the opposite direction glanced at me and said, in a flat, angry voice, "Faggot."

Before I even had a moment to let that roll off my back, Henry had reached around and grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and slammed him, face first, into bank of lockers.

Now, Henry is probably five foot ten or so and very fit. The kid he had grabbed was well over six feet tall and looked pretty ripped. I guessed he was on the football team. With his face pressed against the lockers, I couldn't see who he was.

"What did you say, Gallagher?" Henry asked in a fairly playful, yet intimidating manner.

Oh, great. It was Jack Gallagher. Alex Winter's boyfriend.

"I wasn't talking to you, Diaz," the kid said, his mouth a bit distorted by the pressure of his face being pressed into the locker. "But maybe I should have been if you're hanging out with that... that thing."

Henry let the pressure off the boy for a moment, then slammed him up against the locker again. "I didn't hear the words 'I'm sorry' coming out of your mouth the way I should have, Gallagher. Do you want to try again?"

"Fu.." the boy started to say, but Henry pulled him away from the locker and slammed him against them again.

"Want to try again?"

By now, a crowd was gathering around us. A couple of girls I didn't know pulled me back into the crowd to keep me from being hurt, I guess.

"Alright, alright, what the hell is going on here?" Mr Kemp, the principal, shouted as he pushed through the crowd to get to the center where Henry and had the boy. "Diaz? What's going on here?"

Henry released the boy. "Nothing, Mr Kemp. It's just that Mr Gallagher, here, was pretty rude to one of my classmates and since he used a word that is not only insulting, but, I believe, against the rules laid out in the school's student handbook, I felt obligated to correct him."

"Is that what happened, Gallagher?" Mr Kemp asked.

"No," the boy said, straightening his clothes and hair. "Diaz was walking with that fag got over there," he pointed towards me, "and got pissed off when I called the faggot a faggot. End of story. I never touched anyone."

Mr Kemp looked at Henry and pointed at him, "You," then he pointed at me, "and you stay put. The rest of you get to class. NOW!"

When the crowd had dispersed, he looked at Henry and said, "Mr Diaz, just because you have the highest GPA in your class and will most likely be Valedictorian, that doesn't give you the right to think that you are in any way shape or form in charge of anything at this school. If you have a problem, you talk to me. You do not touch another student."

I could see that Henry had a comeback for that, but Mr Kemp turned to me. "And as for you, your presence here today, dressed the way you are, has already resulted in the suspension of one student who had no disciplinary issues whatsoever until today. If this continues, then you may find yourself back in the local high school before the week's end." He shook his head and looked around. "I will not allow you to upset this entire building just so you can play dress-up."

He started to storm off, but Henry stopped him with, "I didn't think you were that big a coward, Mr Kemp. You disappointed me."

The older man stopped and spun around on his heel. "I beg your pardon? And before you speak again, Diaz, I want you to understand that you are DANGEROUSLY close to being insubordinate, which, as I am sure you are aware since you seem to know the student handbook so well, is a reason for me to have you removed and sent back to your town school."

"I am not being insubordinate, sir. In fact, I am being so respectful of you as to let you know that you made a big mistake here and that you took the coward's way out of that situation."

Mr Kemp took two steps towards Henry and put his hands in his pockets. "Oh? Enlighten me, Diaz. How would a less cowardly man have handled that situation?"

"By punishing the guilty party," Henry shrugged with all the confidence in the world, "instead of threatening the victim," he indicated me, "and her defender," he indicated himself. "A braver man would have realized that Jack Gallagher is not just the best athlete in the school, but he's also a bully and a jackass who needs to be taken down a peg or two before he hurts someone. A braver man would have used this opportunity to have made it clear to Gallagher that HE didn't run the school, because he and his football buddies think they do. Instead, you attacked us. With all due respect, sir... that's all that I'm saying."

I could see that Mr Kemp wanted to explode, but I think he knew that, if he went after Henry, he'd have big fight on his hands and that his opponent, Henry, was a lot smarter than he was. Instead, he grunted and shook his head. "Get to class," he snapped. "Both of you."

Henry turned and headed down the hall, putting his hand on my back as we walked.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Me?" I laughed. "I'm fine. How about you?"

He laughed. "My adrenaline is pretty high, but I'm good. Jack Gallagher's a lunkhead and a bully, but he can play sports and his father is as big a bully as his son, so Kemp kowtows to them. He'll never go after him, but at least now he knows that I see him for what he really is."

We were almost to the cafeteria when Brooke burst out the door and came to a skidding stop when she saw me. "Brook!? Are you ok? I just heard them talking about a someone getting picked on by a..." Suddenly, she seemed to notice Henry for the first time and she stopped to look at him.

"I'm fine," I said. "Brooke, this is Henry, my... knight in shining armor, I guess. He saved me from the bully and from the principal. Henry, this is Brooke. My girlfriend."

"No kidding," Henry smiled, shaking Brooke's hand. "Who'd have believed that?"

"What!?" Brooke asked, suddenly defensive, "that Brook was straight just because he dresses the way he does, or that I could fall for a boy like him?"

Henry laughed. "No. Who'd have believed that you two could fall for each other and have the same name? I mean Brooke isn't that common, is it? What are the chances?"

Just then, another girl came out of the cafeteria. "Henry!" she said. "Were you really in a fight?"

Henry laughed. "No. Not really. Lina, these are my friends Brook and Brooke. Ladies, this is my girlfriend, Lina. Oops... I'm sorry. Was 'ladies' the wrong thing to say?"

"It's fine," I smiled.

"Come on," Brooke said, seeing Mr Kemp turning the corner into the hallway behind us, "let's go in and have our lunch before it gets too late to eat."

It turned out that Brooke had made a few friends in her Beauty Academy. She had left her stuff at a table with two other girls, both of whom I recognized, but neither seemed to know me - even after Brooke explained who I was, they didn't seem to have any recollection of ever knowing anyone named Brook Chapin at the school.

Lina and Henry joined us at our table and I found myself in the midst of the largest lunch table crowd I'd ever encountered.

Olive, one of the girls who had made friends with Brooke, asked me a lot of questions about my hair, most of which I was able to answer, but several times I had to defer to Brooke for answers to technical question about my hair color and highlighting.

I saw Henry and Lina in deep conversation about something that resulted in Lina turning to stare at me, before she finally said, "Wait, wait, wait... you're a boy?"

I looked around the table and noticed that no one else seemed surprised by this revelation. So, I nodded.

"Wow," she said, quietly. "I'm sorry, that was probably pretty rude, wasn't it? I guess I just didn't expect it. I mean... come on... look at you. You're a lot cuter than I am."

That wasn't true. Lina was very cute, but she was a bit of an unmade bed - certainly not as bad as I had been the previous year, but she wasn't exactly dressed up for the first day of school.

"What trade are you taking?" Marci, the other girl with Brooke, asked Lina.

'Furniture design and repair," Lina said, which prompted all of the 'beautician girls,' including Brooke, to let out a knowing, and somewhat sympathetic, 'oh,' which did strike me as a bit rude, to tell you the truth.

Lina seemed to sense the slight, too. "Yeah... we get pretty messy, so... you know... no sense in getting dressed up." Then she looked at me. "Actually, most of the GIRLS in Culinary aren't dressed as well as YOU are. You must have made quite a splash."

I shrugged. "Not really."

Henry laughed. "Not really? Kemp said that someone had already been suspended because of you before what I saw."

"What?" Brooke was alarmed.

I shook my head. "No big deal. I'll tell you about it later." Then, in order to change the topic, I asked Henry if he was trying to get one of the sous-chef positions.

"Yeah, of course," he nodded. "Aren't you?"

I nodded. "I am now. I wasn't going to, but Mrs Simpson convinced me to try."

"You should," Henry said, finishing his sandwich. "You're probably the best cook in the class. That porchetta you made for your final project last year was unreal! I've never had anything that good."

"'Porchetta?" Brooke asked. "What's that?"

"It's roast pork," I explained, blushing a bit at the compliment. "It's what I made for dinner a couple of Sundays ago."

Her eyes brightened. "Oh, yeah. That's was good."

"Good?" Henry laughed. "I think you might be spoiled by his cooking. That's some amazing stuff."

"Yeah, well, your paella was pretty amazing, too," I said, sincerely.

He laughed. "Do you have any idea how often I have made that at my parents' restaurant? Like... three times a week since I was eight or nine years old. But I am glad you liked it. People who aren't used to real Spanish paella are always impressed by it, though. You know, my grandparents are from the Valencia area in Spain and they can't believe that people like it so much. They say that when they were growing up, they had it like two or three times a year and didn't love it, but nonSpaniards can't seem to get enough."

I laughed. "Well, I liked it."

A few moments later, the bell sounded and we had to move on to our next classes. Brooke walked with me, concerned that I might run into another problem, but other than a few mumbled insults from passing jerks, nothing happened.

And that's how the rest of the day went, too. No one got aggressive, but there were a few mumbled remarks.

"So, how'd it go?" Dad asked when I got home.

"Fine, actually," I responded, as I sautéed some onions and pancetta in preparation for a bolognese.

"No problems at all?" he persisted.

"Nothing to worry about," I assured him

And so, my first week of senior year went along with a few tough interactions, but, for the most part, nothing too bad.

I passed the cooking challenges for the sous-chef position without a problem. Mostly it was based on dealing with reducing the size of recipes, or finding substitute ingredients when you ran out of something. It was challenging, for sure, but nothing ridiculous. A lot of my classmates didn't pass it, though. At the end of the week, it was only Henry, two other kids and me left in the running.

The weekend at The Wireworks went well, too. Since I was back at school, I started talking to Amanda's father a little more and asking him a lot of questions about how he cooked and how he ran his kitchen. He seemed to be warming up to me a bit and he shared a lot of stories, and even a few knife techniques, with me when he wasn't too busy. I think he found me 'cute' in a way - not in a little girl kind of way, but in a 'isn't it cute that he's so interested in cooking' kind of way.

I got to know a few new people at school, too. Some people in my culinary class were suddenly friendly to me. All of them said that I seemed to have come out of my shell quite a bit, so it seemed like it was easier for them to talk to me than it had been in previous years.

Everyday, I was excited to get dressed, do my hair and makeup and go to school. I loved looking nice and getting compliments. Of course Alex Winter did have her own social circle who seemed to hate me just for being me. I still heard ‘fag,’ and ‘pussy,’ and a few other things in the hallway with regularity, but all in all, I got more support than ridicule. Mr Casey, my homeroom teacher, was like a dotting grandfather or something, always checking in to be sure that I was ok. He was being very sweet and I appreciated it.

In the middle of the day, I’d shed my pretty clothes and don my kitchen scrubs and Crocs to work in the kitchen. I’d tuck my hair up into a hair net, do my kitchen time, then get all pretty again and go meet Brooke and our new friends for lunch.

So, in the middle of week four, we had to do Mrs Simpson’s Kobayashi Maru situation. Each potential sous-chef had to go into the kitchen and face a similar scenario. The thing was, though, we were still doing all the work for our in-school restaurant at the same time and nothing could interrupt that. While the scenarios played out, the other potential sous-chefs had to wait outside of the kitchen so we didn’t know what the glitch was going to be. We drew lots to see what order we’d take go into the kitchen and I ended up being last. For the last ten minutes or so, I was sitting in the outer classroom all by myself until, finally, Mrs Simpson came in and said, "You’re up."

I went into the kitchen and took my place near Mrs Simpson.

"Make sure we have plenty of dinner rolls ready to go," she said calmly. "We have a big crowd."

"Yes, Chef," I responded and I walked to my classmate in charge of that part of the service.

"Hey, Molly," I said, "we have a big crowd. Make sure we have plenty of rolls ready to go, alright?"

"Yes, Chef," she said. Then she looked at me and took a deep breath. "Good luck."

I assumed from that that whatever the glitch was going to be, it was going to be a doozy.

I returned to my post and I checked the final plating of a series of meals and checked the order sheets. "Where’s the lamb?" I called down the line. "We have two orders being held up waiting on lamb."

"Coming now, Chef!" someone called back and came hustling with two plates of the lamb.

I checked them and turned to the computer to enter that the meals were ready for pickup.

"I need four soups, here!" I called down the line. "What’s the hold up?"

"Sorry, Chef," a classmate said, hardly looking up. "I had to get more out of the cooler. Someone went home sick."

Ah! That must be the glitch, I thought. I was about to ask who had to leave and reassign someone to that person’s job, when all of a sudden, to my right and behind me, a huge fireball burst out of the gas grill. Kids screamed and backed away. Some ran for the door, but I ran over and pushed the red ‘In Case of Fire’ button to douse the fire with the chemical foam in the overhead nozzles.

The room got very quiet for a moment and I looked around. "Is everyone alright?" I asked.

Everyone nodded and seemed fine, so I just continued. "Ok, these steaks are trashed and we can’t use this grill until the fire department comes, so Kristensen and Mosley, grab some new steaks and get them started on the range in the prep room. Whoever is on cleanup, mop this area up so no one slips. Fredericks, can you go get one of the people who already did the sous-chef test and ask one of them to come in and help with soup and salad prep, since we’re down a person and need some help? Ok, we’ve still got customers, guys, so let’s get back to work."

"Yes, Chef," my classmates replied as they made their way back to their stations.

I looked at Mrs Simpson and shook my head. "Geez, that was pretty scary. Did you send a fireball into everybody’s scenario?"

She stared at me for a moment, then shook her head. "As a matter of fact, no. Do you know what caused that?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I do. Just before the flames Mosley spilled a bowl of wine sauce into the burners and then tried to put it out with a towel. If you hadn’t hit that button as quickly as you did, he could have been very badly burned. You saved that boy from being hurt, Brook."

I looked at the range and nodded. "So... you did that for each of the sous-chef candidates?"

Mrs Simpson laughed. "Brook, the complication was going to be someone leaving unexpectedly, which you dealt with – perhaps not as I would have, but you dealt with it – and an unhappy customer complaint, which I think I can cancel at this point."

"Wait..." it took a minute for everything to dawn on me. "So... that was a real fire?"

Just then, a fireman came in the back of the kitchen looking around.

"It certainly was," Mrs Simpson said, as she guided me towards the fireman.

"Hi," the man said. "We got an alarm that a fire extinguisher was deployed, but didn’t get a fire alarm. Is everything ok?"

"It is, but only because of the quick thinking of my new sous-chef, here. We could have had a big problem if Brook hadn’t been thinking quick and hit that button. We’ll clean the appliance and get it ready and have you come inspect it later today so we can use it again tomorrow, if that’s ok."

The fireman walked over and looked at the range, made sure the gas was shut off and said, "Ok. Give us a call and I’ll come take a look." Then he looked at me and winked. "Nice work."

When he’d left, I asked, "Did you just say I was your new sous-chef?"

Mrs Simpson chuckled. "Yes, Brook. Come with me."

She led me into the dressing room where Henry and one of the other possible sous-chefs were waiting and asked them to join us. Then she came back into the kitchen and called for everyone’s attention.

"I just want to thank everyone who participated in the sous-chef unit. I am very happy to announce that our new sous-chefs for this year are Henry Diaz and Brook Chapin. I know that you will all work with them as if you were working with me. Thank you, everyone. Now, let’s have a round of applause for Henry and Brook and back to work. We have a lot of hungry people to feed."

Henry shook my hand and we accepted everyone’s brief applause and we all got back to work.

"That’s amazing," Brooke said on the way home, when I told her my news. "Look how far you’ve come in the last few weeks. A job in the best restaurant in the area and now you’re a sous-chef at the school restaurant, too. Congratulations, babe!" She was genuinely excited for me.

"That is really awesome, Brook," Elena said from the backseat, and Melissa agreed. We’d picked them up at their school to take them for ice cream because Melissa had gotten a role in the school’s fall play and Brooke had promised an ice cream as a celebration.

We pulled up to their favorite place, a couple of towns away, Brooke and Mel went to get the treats while El and I went to find a table.

"Hey," she said, with a big smile, when she knew we were alone, "guess what I’m doing Friday night?"

I smiled back. "Do you have a date?"

She giggled like I’d never seen her giggle before. "I do and guess what – she’s a lesbian, too!"

I laughed. "Well, I should hope so. How did you find each other."

Elena looked around. "We’re lab partners in Science and she’s really friendly and always kind of... flirty, I guess. She was always complimenting my clothes and stuff, and then, kind of out of the blue, she told me I was cute and asked me if I dated guys. I said ‘no,’ but I’d be interested in dating the right girl... then she asked if she looked like the right girl and... we’re going out Friday."

I thought it was a really sweet story and I’m sure I was smiling pretty broadly. "Aww, that’s nice, El."

"Yeah, but don’t tell anyone it’s a date, ok? As far as anyone is concerned, I’m just going to a movie with a friend."

"Ok," I smiled, "but you do realize that your sister is dating a gender fluid guy who looks more like her sister than her boyfriend, right? Your family is pretty open minded."

"I know," she nodded, "but you’re still a guy and... Brooke is Brooke. She can do no wrong. I’ll tell them when I’m ready. Here they come, though. Please, don’t say anything."

"Of course not," I assured her and then I looked up and smiled at Brooke and Melissa.

"Alight," Brooke said, handing Elena a cone, "a chocolate chip cookie dough for you," then she held out one to me, "and a vanilla for you." She shook her head. "You know, considering how much you made fun of me for getting a hamburger at fancy restaurant, this place has like a hundred flavors and you got plain vanilla."

"Vanilla isn’t ‘plain,’" I said. "Vanilla is ‘pure.’ I love the subtle taste of vanilla and the better the ice cream, the more flavorful the vanilla." I tasted my children’s-sized cone. "Mmm. This is pretty good. The vanilla is really nice and rich. It would be a shame to ruin that with other, less interesting flavors."

Brooke just shook her head and her sisters giggled.

"Anyway," Brooke said, "congratulations, Melissa. I am sure you are going to be a great Mrs White in your school’s production of ‘Clue.’"

"Hear, hear!" I said holding up my cone like a wine glass. We all tapped our cones together and then enjoyed them together.

As we headed home, Brooke asked if I’d told my dad about my good news.

"I did," I said. "I sent him a text and he sent back a text that said ‘congrats’ during his break."

"That’s great," Brooke smiled and squeezed my hand. "I bet he’ll be happy for you."

We turned onto our street. "I hope so. I know we’ve been through a lot, but we’ve been getting along really well lately, and I want him to be proud of me and what I’m doing at..." that’s when I saw the police car in front of my house. "... shit. What’s going on?"

"Oh, no,"Elena muttered from behind me.

"Maybe we should stop at our house," Melissa said, and it was clear that she was afraid of getting involved in a police issue.

"Like hell," Brooke said, plowing forward and pulling up in front of our house.

Before we were even out of the Jeep, though, Mrs Kerr was hurrying out to us with her arms spread wide to stop us from charging into the house. "Alright, now, everyone stay calm," she said. "Everything is going to be alright."

I was the first out of the Jeep. "What’s going on!?" I couldn’t possibly sound as worried as I felt.

Mrs Kerr hugged me and said, "It’s ok, honey. Your dad... well... he had a run in with someone at work. That’s all."

"That’s all?" I didn’t believe her. "Then... why is he home so early and why are the police here?"

She heaved a big sigh. "Ok, now, just promise me you’ll stay calm before I tell you what happened."

I pulled back from her a bit. "Ok. I’m calm."

She nodded and gathered her words before speaking. "Ok..." She thought a bit more. "... well, apparently... your dad was bragging to everyone about how proud he was of you and how you had won this new position at school..."

"Dad was bragging about... me?" I asked, shocked.

Mrs Kerr nodded. "Of course he was, honey." She smiled and rubbed my arm. "Anyway, he was at the counter inside the lumber yard’s store telling all the women in there about you and there was this man there. His name was Winter..."

"Alex!" I muttered, immediately feeling like something very bad had happened.

"... and I guess that his daughter goes to school with you and you two had had some kind of altercation on the first day of school..."

"Oh, no," I said out loud. "What happened?"

She sighed, again. "Well... from what I understand... this Mr Winter said something that was pretty unpleasant and when your dad told him to shut up... well, things got physical."

"Oh, my God!" I tried to push pass, but Mrs Kerr hugged me, again.

"No, no, honey. Wait until he’s done with the police."

My heart sank. "They’re not going to arrest him, are they?"

She continued to hug me. "I don’t think so. Everyone at the lumberyard said that the other guy said some pretty hateful things and that he threw the first punch, and your dad was protecting himself – and you. The thing is though, Brook..." she looked at me with a lot of sympathy. "Your dad lost his job over this, so... he’s going to be going through a lot for a while."

"What?" I couldn’t believe what she’d said. My dad had worked there since before he and my mother had started dating. The owner and his family were all friends of his. How could they fire him? "But... if everyone says it wasn’t his fault...?"

"I know," she said, rubbing my back, "but their insurance company insists and besides... It doesn’t look good for a retail company to have their customers beaten up by an employee." She gave me a really tight hug. "Don’t worry, though. Things will work out."

Yeah, I was sure that thing would work out just fine. After we lost our house and we were living under a tarp in the woods, things would work out just great!

"God," I said, beginning to shake a bit, "even when I do something good, I mess everything up."

She pushed me back to arms length and looked me in the eyes. "Now, you listen to me. This is not your fault. This was that other guy’s fault. He was being an aggressive jackass and that’s the end of it."

"Except, if I’d just been a normal person, and not who I am, then none of this would have happened."

At that moment, two policemen walked out of my house and one of them motioned to Mrs Kerr to come talk to him.

"Wait here," she told me, firmly. Then she walked over to the policemen and spoke to them quietly, her head nodding from time to time.

When their conversation ended, the policemen walked towards their car and Mrs Kerr walked back to me. "Well," she said, forcing a smile, "everything is ok. They just wanted to talk to your dad. You can go in now, but... remember... your dad is pretty upset." She looked at her daughters and said, "Maybe we should give them a few minutes to themselves, ok?"

Elena and Melissa nodded, but Brooke asked, "He’s not going to get violent with Brook, is he?"

Mrs Kerr shook her head. "No, of course not. He’s much more concerned about disappointing Brook than anything else, right now. He’ll be fine."

Brooke nodded and rubbed my arm. "I’ll be just outside if you need me."

I nodded, then kissed her soft cheek. "Ok. Thanks."

I walked over to the house and up onto the back porch, then opened my back door, feeling like something terrible had happened inside. I wasn’t concerned that my dad would hurt me, but I was concerned about what awaited me inside.

I found dad in the living room. He was sitting in a recliner, but his feet were on the floor, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. When he heard me, he sat up quickly and turned towards me, smiling, but I could see that his eyes were red rimmed and watery.

"Hey! There’s the town’s newest sous-chef!" He forced a smile and reached out a hand to take one of mine. "Congratulations, Chef. I couldn’t be prouder of you."

I pressed my lips into a tight smile. "Thanks, dad. I’m... so sorry."

He gave a dismissive laugh. "Oh... yeah... I messed things up pretty badly, today, I guess." Another laugh, but this one more nervous sounding, came from his throat.

"Dad... this is all my fau..." I never finished my sentence, because he stood up quicker than I’d ever seen him do before, and wrapped me into a tight hug.

"No, Brook, no. This wasn’t your fault. I mean... Damnit, it wasn’t even mine. Hell, I’ve known Jake Winter my whole life. He was a senior when I was a freshman and he was jerk then. When he started in on me I just turned to walk away, but he grabbed me and pushed me up against the counter and started saying... well... he said a lot of pretty nasty things about both of us, Chef. I just pushed him back to get past him and he grabbed a hammer off of the counter and came at me. I only threw one punch and that was just to stop him. Turned out, it laid him out flat and, from what the cops told me, probably broke his jaw. It’s funny how quickly you get fired when you knockout your company’s customers."

I wrapped my arms around him and couldn’t help but sob – not for me, but because I could feel how sad he was. "Dad, I’m so sorry. What are we going to do?"

He held me tighter. "Well, YOU are going to continue to do what you’re doing. Keep achieving and keep being you, no matter what the assholes say or do. As for me..." he sighed, "... I’ll find something. Probably not at a lumberyard, since I’m sure that news of what happened today has already gotten around, but... somewhere."

We hugged for a few more, long moments, until we heard the back door open and Mrs Kerr speak. "Ummm... Vic? I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to speak to you."

Dad released me and I looked to the back door where I saw Uncle Mark entering behind Mrs Kerr.

"When the police showed up," Mrs Kerr explained, looking from dad to her brother-in-law, "I called Mark to ask him what we should do. He wasn’t in his office, so I left a message."

Uncle Mark stepped forward and extended his hand to dad. "I was driving back from a meeting when my assistant called and told me that Sue was upset and that the police were here, so I just came this way. I’m sorry I missed the police." Then he gave my cheek a kiss and asked if I was ok. I nodded.

"They were just filling in the blanks on their report," my dad said. "Thanks for coming." He looked around at our modest home and I could feel that my dad was embarrassed for Uncle Mark to be seeing it. "Ummm... hey, can I get you a beer, or some iced tea or something? Maybe we could sit on the porch."

Uncle Mark looked surprised. "You still have beer in the house?"

Dad laughed. "Actually... no. I guess I just said that out of habit. We do have iced tea, though. Maybe some Diet Coke or some ginger ale. Can I get you anything?"

"Ginger ale sounds great," Uncle Mark nodded. "Let’s have a chat."

I volunteered to get the drinks while dad escorted everyone outside. I grabbed a sleeve of red-cups, threw some ice into an ice bucket, then put that as well as a bottle of ginger ale and pitcher of iced tea from the fridge onto a tray and headed for the door. Brooke was on her way in to help me as I reached the exit, and she held the door for me and we went out back to join the adults. Elena and Melissa had already gone home at Mrs Kerr’s instruction.

"...well, since it was this Winter guy’s fault," Uncle Mark was saying, "we could go after the owners of the lumberyard for wrongful termination of your employment. Maybe get your job back, or at least get a settlement of some kind."

Dad shook his head. "No. They’ve been very good to me for twenty years. They had no choice. I can’t go after them."

I began pouring and serving.

"Then we can go after Winter. You said that all of the witnesses will back you up and say he was the aggressor."

Dad shook his head, again. "Jake Winter has never had two pennies to rub together. He’s a bigger drunk than I ever was and he’s bounced from one crappy apartment to another his whole life. It’d be pointless to try to get any money out of him."

Uncle Mark shook his head and sipped his ginger ale. "I gotta tell ya, Vic, it won’t be easy for you to find a job in your field after an incident like this."

"I am aware," dad said, glancing towards me. "I have to find something, though. I can pay this month’s mortgage, but that’s about it. So, tomorrow morning, I’m going everywhere. I don’t care if I end up at McDonalds or Walmart, I need a job."

Uncle Mark nodded and sipped and thought for a few minutes. "You haven’t had a drink since your hearing, right, Vic?"

"Not a drop," dad said, honestly. "To tell you the truth, I’m really glad that I’ve been dry for a while, because when I left the yard today, my first impulse was to drive straight to the Legion Hall to get blitzed, but instead... I came home and thought things through. It’s harder than drinking, but I feel better about myself."

Mrs Kerr put her hand on dad’s arm in support and Uncle Mark nodded. He thought and sipped a few minutes longer, then said, "Tell me, Vic... would you be willing to work as a runner for me?"

Dad seemed surprised. "I guess... but... What does a runner do?"

Uncle Mark sipped a bit more, then spoke. "Vic, a lot of legal papers can’t be faxed of emailed. They need original signatures and they need to be private, so they need to be transported by a human – a runner. Typically, a runner is either a retiree or a person training to be a paralegal. It’s not a job that’ll make you rich, but it’s a job. If you want it, I’ll call my assistant and have her walk you through the paperwork over the phone and you can start tomorrow. What do you say? Want to give it a try?"

Dad looked around at all of us. "Look, Mark, I need the job, but I don’t want you to give it to me as an act of charity. I mean, I’ve never done any work like this before..."

Uncle Mark interrupted. "Vic - it’s taking things from point A to point B occasionally point C as well. I’m not suggesting that this is a career move, but if you want it, the job is yours for as long as you need it – as long as you’re sober and reliable, that is."

Dad looked at Mrs Kerr for advice and she nodded. Then he looked at me. "What do you think, Chef? I’d be in the city all day, forty five minutes away. I probably won’t be home till later."

I shrugged. "Dad, if you want the job, take it. I’m nineteen. I can take care of myself. Besides, the Kerr’s are right next door if I need anything."

Dad nodded and thought for a moment. "Well, ok, Mr Kerr, I guess I will take you up on that offer. I mean, it sure sounds better than facing the winter with no job and only a little oil in the tank."

Uncle Mark stood. "Ok, Vic. Let’s go inside and I’ll call my office manager. She’ll set up everything you need."

So, in the house they went, away from prying ears, I guess.

Mrs Kerr looked at me and I think we both looked a bit relieved. "So, Brook... tell me about this new appointment that you’ve earned."

I told her all about how I’d been named one of the sous-chefs and how excited I was about it. Then we talked a bit about school in general and the little bit of bullying I’d received, but I pointed out that I’d received a lot more support than bullying, and that was a good thing. Then we talked about Brooke’s classes and her new friends, until, after nearly an hour, dad and Uncle Mark came back outside and dad was smiling quite a bit.

"I need to get a move on," Uncle Mark said, kissing Mrs Kerr, then Brooke and then me on the cheek. Then he shook dad’s hand. "Welcome aboard, Vic. I’ll see you in the morning." Then, he flashed his handsome smile and left.

"Everything all set?" Mrs Kerr asked, a big smile on her face.

"Everything’s great," dad said, then he looked at me. "Looks like I’ll be seeing you off in the morning, now, Chef. I’m not going in till eight and I’ll be heading home at four thirty."

"Wow," I chuckled, relieved that dad was happy. "That sounds great, dad."

"And..." Mrs Kerr spoke a little more confidentially, "... they’re taking care of you? Financially, I mean. They’re paying you enough to make it worth your while?"

"Yeah," dad said, with raised eyebrows, as he took a sip of a bottle of root beer. "The way things are working out, they’re paying me pretty much what I was making at the lumber yard, but they’re paying for a bigger part of our health insurance plan, so I will probably end up with a little more in my pocket than I had before." He was about to take another sip, but he stopped. "Oh... AND, if I want to go back to school and get an associates degree, or for training to be a paralegal, something like that, they’ll even pay for that. It seems like a really good job."

"That’s great, Vic," Mrs Kerr smiled and seemed very happy.

"Congratulations, Mr Chapin," Brooke said.

"Yeah, dad," I said, patting his arm, "I’m glad things are working out."

"Me, too, honey," dad said, touching my hand. "I didn’t think things would work out this way, I’ll tell you that."

I smiled, but frankly, I didn’t either. Once again, it had been Uncle Mark to the rescue. Thank goodness.

"I think we’d better go do a little shopping," Mrs Kerr said with a smile. "You can’t be representing Mark’s law firm in jeans and a tee shirt." Then she looked at Brooke. "Can you go get some pizza or something for your sisters?"

Before Brooke could answer, I jumped in. "No pizza. I’ll make them a good meal."

And that’s how we spent the evening. I cooked and served a nice, simple chicken breast dinner to the girls while dad and Mrs Kerr went shopping and had dinner out someplace.

So, the next morning was a bit different for us. I jumped out of bed at five, my usual time, and started getting ready. Then I went out to the kitchen and realized that dad wasn’t even up, yet. So, I made a fruit smoothie for myself and sat at the counter to enjoy it.

This was new. A relaxed morning. I opened my phone and started looking at some gaming sites, but soon found that I was perusing magazine sponsored sites aimed at girls my age. Tips on makeup, hair and skin care, fashion tips, dating tips... all subjects that would have held no interest for me at the end of the last school year, now held my rapt attention.

The dating tips were very interesting, because the articles all seemed to be focused not only on boyfriends, but on girlfriends. Lesbianism was just an everyday thing in these articles. Men’s magazines kept any conversations about gay culture far away from their pages.

Anyway, for obvious reasons, the comments about lesbian love seemed to resonate the most to me, so I kind of went down a rabbit hole of introductory articles about lesbian dating and love making. I know this will probably sound weird to you, but I’d never really thought about myself as a lesbian before – just a straight boy with a female personality. These articles, though, opened my eyes. I really was a very feminine lesbian who just happened to have a penis. Sure, Brooke was dating a boy in a dress and she took care of his needs with hand jobs and the occasional blowjob, but I needed to start thinking more about fulfilling her needs. Till that point, I’d caressed and nibbled her breasts a little, but these articles laid out a whole new world of safe ways I could reciprocate Brooke’s care for my needs.

I was fascinated. So fascinated and so enthralled in my reading that I didn’t even hear dad approaching until he was in the kitchen with me, wearing a clean pair of dress pants, a handsome, well fitted button down shirt with a tasteful, narrow stripe in it and subdued, dark blue tie hung loosely and untied around his neck.

Not only was he well dressed, he was well shaved and his short hair had been brushed – I didn’t even know he owned a hair brush.

"Holy smokes," I said, looking up at him, "you look great!"

"Yeah?" he asked, uncertainly. "It feels odd, to tell you the truth. I feel like I’m going to a funeral or something."

I chuckled at that. "Well, I think you look very handsome."

He smiled. "Ok. I’ll accept that. Hey – do you know how to tie a nice knot in a neck tie? I only know the knot I learned as a kid and it looks really sloppy with this tie."

"I don’t," I smiled, "but unlike you, I know that YouTube has a tutorial for everything." I searched my phone for a moment, then pushed ‘play’ on a YouTube video that showed me how to tie a ‘double Windsor’ knot that looked nice. I watched it again, while dad drank a cup of orange juice, then I proceeded to tie my dad’s tie.

It was an oddly intimate moment for dad and me. I could smell his shaving cream and toothpaste and he even commented on how my shampoo smelled like vanilla.

"That’s not my shampoo," I smiled as I worked on his tie. "That’s hair perfume."

"Hair perfume?" he asked, a little confused. "Is that different than regular perfume."

"Of course," I tsked at him. "I wear lavender perfume on my body and vanilla in my hair. They compliment each other."

That made him smile and shake his head a bit. "You know, Brook," he said – using my name more commonly now when he was talking to his ‘daughter’ instead of his son, "I guess I always knew you were... different from the other boys your age. I guess I should have been more aware that... well... that you weren’t really a boy, I guess."

"Hey," I said, smoothing out his now nicely tied tie, "I’m still a boy where it counts and I always will be." I inspected my work. "There." I stood on top toe and kissed his cheek. "Now you look even more handsome. Like a move star of something."

He laughed at that. "Maybe a movie extra."

I smiled at him. He looked as different from who he was a few months ago as I did – Heck, for him it was just a few hours ago. I couldn’t help but be proud of him.

"Sit down, dad," I said gently. "I’ll make you an omelette for breakfast. We have plenty of time."

"Thanks, honey," he smiled. "Oh – just ham and cheese this morning, though. I don’t want my breath to smell of peppers and onions on my first day."

Wow. I’d never seen my dad like this. So nervous and excited. And happy.

I served him an omelette with a little fruit and toast on the side, as well as a mug of coffee and a small glass of tomato juice just as Brooke walked in the backdoor.

"Morning, baby," she smiled at me and kissed my cheek before noticing my dad. "Oh, hi, Mr Chapin. Hey, looking pretty spiffy this morning."

He smiled and nodded a ‘thank you’ to Brooke. Despite everything good that had happened since dad had beaten me up, there was still some space and coolness between him and Brooke. Maybe there always would be.

We should get going, babe," Brooke said to me. "I have a meeting with the homecoming committee before homeroom, remember?"

"Yep," I said, grabbing my purse and my backpack that carried my books and school computer.

I stopped and kissed dad, again. "Good luck on your first day, dad."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he smiled. Then he shocked me when he stopped me by speaking again. "Brook... you look... beautiful... I just wanted you to know that."

I looked down at the pink and white dress I was wearing and then back at my dad. "Thanks dad. I got this at Savers. You know? That second hand place?"

He shook his head. "No, not the dress. The dress is very pretty, but... I mean you. YOU look beautiful. I just... I just wanted you to know that."

I walked back to where he was seated and hugged him around the neck. "Thanks, dad. That means a lot to me," I said as I continued to hug him.

"And your hair smells great," he laughed as I let him go and stood straight again.

I laughed at that, too and headed for the door.

"I can get you some hair perfume of your own, if you’d like some," Brooke teased as I headed for the door. "Any scent you’d like. Apple, lemon, strawberry, sandalwood, rose, lilac, violets... anything."

"I’m good," dad laughed as I dragged Brooke out the door. She still didn’t like him very much, but at least they’d had two polite interactions that morning. I was writing that up as a win.

School seemed to go great for the next few weeks. I loved being a souschef and kind of running the kitchen with Henry. We made a great team, too. I knew what I wanted and how to explain that to my classmates. So did Henry, but Henry was also a tall, imposing guy and having him as my partner made things a lot easier in the kitchen.

As things worked out, dad was getting home not long after I did everyday, which was great. His new job was less exhausting than the physical demands of the lumberyard, so he had more energy in the evenings. He and Mrs Kerr took to taking walks after supper and even going out more frequently, which suited Brooke and me just fine.

One night, we found that we were alone – actually alone – for several hours. Mrs Kerr and dad had gone to see a movie, Melissa had a rehearsal at school until nine and Elena was at her girlfriend’s house until we picked her up on the way to get Mel. So three solid ours of Brooke and Brook time, and after reading all of those articles, I knew how I wanted to spend it.

It had gotten a little cooler by this point and I had bought myself this dark blue, flowered peasant dress that I loved and I knew Brooke loved too. It was very loose fitting, had a modest ‘V’ neck and sleeves that blossomed into big puffs at the elastic cuffs. The hem of the skirt was kind of short, ending just past the place where my fingertips touched my thighs, but I liked that it showed a lot of leg and I knew that Brooke liked that, too, It was a really cute dress and I knew I looked cute in it.

So, I wore that to school that day and I knew that it got Brooke a little hot and bothered to see me in it. That was, after all, kind of my point in wearing it.

I kept talking about how much homework I had to get done that evening, so Brooke thought that we’d be buried in books the whole time we were alone together. So, we dropped off Elena on the way home and then went to Brooke’s big, empty house to do our homework.

Brook was wearing these tight, tight jeans that hugged every amazing curve of her gorgeous body and a tight fitting, black top, with an unbuttoned flannel, lumberjack shirt hanging loose on top of that. Even dressed casually – even somewhat masculinely – Brooke still exuded the sexiest female vibe imaginable.

Anyway, we got to their place and she turned on the TV, put her backpack on the coffee table and asked what I’d like to snack on.

"You," I said, with a smile. I knew it sounded silly, but I’d read so much about pleasing my lesbian lover and how two women made love to each other that I didn’t care. I knew I looked sexy and I knew what I wanted.

"I beg your pardon?" She laughed at me. But when she turned and looked at me, she knew that I was serious.

I knelt in front of her and reached up to start undoing the buttons that held her button-fly jeans closed. I kissed the buttons as I worked them through the buttonholes and looked up past her beautiful bust to make eye contact with Brooke.

She petted my soft, sweet smelling hair. "Baby... are you sure you’re ready for this?"

I nodded and continued to kiss and unbutton her jeans.

Finally unbuttoned, I pulled her jeans down, revealing pretty, silk and lace panties. They could not have been prettier, and the fact that I was wearing a nearly identical pair made them even more beautiful to me. I lowered the jeans to her ankles and carefully pulled them, one leg at a time, past the cowgirl boots she was wearing. The boots were brown with pink roses on them and a chunky two inch heal that made Brooke’s legs and bottom look amazing. I didn’t want her to take them off.

Next, I kissed the beautiful lace panel on the front of my love’s panties and I felt her shiver. The more I kissed, the more she shivered and gasped. For the very first time in our relationship, I felt like I was controlling the tempo of an intimate moment.

"Remember how you once told me that all girls should put their boyfriends into pretty dresses?" I asked between kisses on her panties.

"I do," she smiled down at me, towering over me.

"Do you think that they’d like to have their boyfriends kneeling before them like this?"

"I don’t know," she gasped as my kisses went lower. "Some girls are funny about things like this."

"How about you?" I asked, as my tongue creeped under the soft elastic of a leg hole and came closer to her womanhood. "Do you want your boyfriend to give you a blowjob for a change?"

"Yes, baby," she said, caressing my hair, "but only if you’re ready to do it, my pretty little thing. Only if you’re ready."

I reached up and gently lowered her panties, revealing a nicely trimmed pubic area. It was feminine and sculpted and smelled just a little musky from her excitement, but it was a wonderful musky smell because it was Brooke.

I moved gently, at first. More kisses and just a few little licks near her womanhood. Then I got more courageous and when my tongue first brushed across the little nub at the top of her opening, she gasped in a way that let me know that this was a first for her as well.

When, after a good long while, I was brave enough to have my tongue explore her opening, I felt Brooke tighten up and her legs spread slightly wider to allow me more access.

"Oh... oh, baby," she panted. "Oh, baby, be a good girl and keep doing that. Oh!!!"

She grabbed my head and rocked hard against it as she orgasmed. Now, I’m sure that this was not her first orgasm, I knew Brooke far too well to think that she wasn’t taking care of her own needs, but I think this was the first time anyone else had ever brought her this far and I could tell she liked it a lot.

We went on like this for another ten or fifteen minutes until Brooke couldn’t take any more. Finally, she pushed my head away and stepped back.

"Oh, my God, baby, I need to stop," she gasped as she pulled her panties back up. "Where did you learn to do all that? I mean... should I be worried?" She laughed a bit at that last part.

"Not unless you’re jealous of the links in the ‘How To Keep Your Partner Happy’ articles in those online girls’ magazines you’ve got me hooked on," I giggled, rising from my knees with a hand from Brooke.

She put her arms around me and hugged me. She kissed my hair and then laid her cheek on my head. "God, I guess I never read those links. I think I may have missed out on some things."

Her hands wandered down to my bottom where she fondled my cheeks a bit, feeling the soft cotton of my loose dress against the silky smoothness of my silk and lace panties beneath. "Oh, I lucked out when we moved in next door to you, my beautiful love," she whispered, hugged harder and swayed me while I nestled into her softness and inhaled her and tasted her and loved her.

I felt her start to drop to her knees, but I stopped her. "No. I don’t want you on your knees," I said, with a passionate kiss to her lips.

She smiled down at me and led me to the couch where she gently laid me down and her hand went under the hem of my dress and began exploring the front of my panties, which, since I was tucked, was just as flat and smooth as the front of her panties had been. She caressed that area as she kissed my neck and nibbled my ears.

"You’re the best girlfriend in the world," she whispered to me.

"I’m trying to be," I smiled as I squirmed beneath her.

She gently folded the front of my dress up and began kissing the lace on my panties in imitation of how I’d kissed hers a few minutes earlier.

"Such a sweet," kiss, "sweet," kiss, "sweet," kiss, "little thing you can be. So pretty," kiss, "and you smell so nice, too."

Then she looked at me with mischievous eyes. "I’ll be right back," she announced and ran away.

"Where are you going?" I called after her, but she didn’t respond. She just ran up the stairs and moments later ran back down.

"Stand up for a second," she instructed me, so I did. She put a pillow in the middle of the couch, then had me lay back down, but this time on my stomach. I did so, but with caution.

"Why?" I asked, as I took my position.

"Just trust me," she said, with that same grin.

When I settled down, my bottom was raised a bit by the pillow and I felt Brooke raise the back of my dress and fold it neatly above my lower back. Then she ran her hands over my silk covered butt cheeks.

"You know, for a boy, you really do have a nice bottom," she said. Then she bent low and gave me some nibbles through the material.

Then she pulled the material back a bit and I felt her rubbing some oil on me. It felt warm and she massaged me with the oil, gradually finding her way to my rear opening.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I’ve been doing some reading, too," she whispered and she slipped one oily finger into me, causing me to gasp and tighten a bit. "Oh, come on," she giggled. "Just relax and let me take care of you. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself."

Then I felt her fingers creeping deeper into me – first one, then two, then three slippery fingers that brought new, strange sensations.

"That’s it," she whispered from behind me. "Just relax and enjoy it. It feels nice, doesn’t it. So nice." She kept cooing like that as she teased me from behind.

Then I felt it. Something foreign and... artificial... entering me. It was at least as thick as her three fingers had been and it was longer, too – much longer.

I tried to ask what she was doing, but all that came out of my mouth was, "...aaa..."

"I know," Brooke cooed. "Nice, right?"

Actually, it hurt like hell for a moment and then... then... then it felt... amazing. I felt as if I was floating. Something deep inside me was being tickled or stroked or something and I began to wiggle to continue the stimulation and that’s when she pushed a button on whatever she’d inserted into me and it began to vibrate.

It was the most astounding feeling I’d ever felt and I clenched every muscle in my lower abdomen to grasp at the feeling, but my brain went into over load and I began to thrust back into the feeling until I felt an orgasm building deep within myself. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before and I whimpered as I thrust this way and that, searching for any way to satisfy my need for fulfillment – and when it came, it came in a gushing torrent of tingles and shivers. I must have looked like I was having a seizure, but I was feeling a sense of excitement like I’d never felt before and I froze, clenched and rode my way through it.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," I muttered as my climax came and passed and I was able to breath again.

Brooke stopped the vibrator and slowly, gently slid the device from my anus, leaving me feeling oddly empty and deflated.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," I continued to sputter as I felt it leaving me.

I looked at Brooke who asked, "Are you ok?"

I struggled for breath. "I think so... what was that?"

She smiled and showed me a wand, about a foot long, with what looked like a little, bent finger near one end. The wand was shaped a bit like a thin penis and was covered in neon pink silicon, probably for easily cleaning, but the color definitely gave it a feminine look.

"It’s my rabbit," Brooke said. "It’s, you know, a vibrator." She looked at me and smiled. "Did you like it?"

I couldn’t very well lie after what had just happened. "It was... amazing," I smiled, "but I may have just ruined my panties, my dress and the couch."

"Yeah," Brooke snickered. "I thought the same thing." She wiped my bottom with some tissues and pulled my panties back up. "Come on. Stand up and let’s see how bad it is."

I carefully knelt up, expecting to see a huge stain, but there was none. My dress was dry, too. So was the front of my panties, but of course, I had been tucked. So I checked my penis and I was shocked to find that, with the exception of some pre-cum on the tip of my organ, I hadn’t ejaculated anything. This had been a whole different kind of orgasm for me and it was amazing.

And it was only the first time we’d done it that way. There were a lot more online articles to read.
 
 
To Be Continued...