Chapter 11

When I got home, I tracked down Terri to her bedroom. “Hi munchkin,” I said after she invited me in. “How was your day?” She looked a bit brighter than the previous evening and hadn’t been crying so I took that as a good sign.

“Daisy was absent today. I know she’s a racist bully but is it wrong for me to worry about her?”

“No. She was your friend, and if she can change her ways I don’t see why she shouldn’t be your friend again.”

Terri came over and hugged me. “Thanks. For a dorky brother, you’re not too bad at times.”

I kissed her forehead.

“I saw what happened to your locker,” she said.

“I’m not happy about it. Eugenie was devastated about it.”

“I heard about how you comforted her,” Terri smirked.

“Since you know so much, do you know about the ambulance at school this afternoon? I saw them take someone away but I’ve no idea who it was.”

“Me neither.”

I went to my own room and was able to finish most of my homework before dinner.

When we were all sat round the dining room table with full plates I broke my news. “The race on Sunday is a bit special. It’s a qualifier for the Tri-State Championships.”

“I thought the school didn’t enter the qualifiers,” said Dad.

“Coach Budd said that he’d obtained some extra funding from Principal Hockstadler. Probably pried it from his cold, dead hands.”

“Kevin, that’s not fair,” objected Mum. “Principal Hockstadler does an excellent job of keeping the school liquid on a tight budget. And he’s very resourceful too. Look at his arrangement for those mountain boys.”

Our town was situated near a range of mountains or hills, depending on your definition. A few families lived a traditional, isolated, largely subsistence lifestyle on hill farms. In mainstream classes, their children would have quickly fallen behind and become a drag because of their patchy attendance, but Principal Hockstadler had negotiated some extra budget from the state to set up separate lessons for them, a sort of school within a school. At least it was better for them than home-schooling. The rest of the school rather unkindly labelled them the ‘hillbillies’ and there was very little intermingling.

“Mum, we have to go and support Kevin. It’s a big deal for him!” insisted Terri.

“No, sweetheart, you’ve got gymnastics on Sunday. And we’ve already paid for your coaching.”

“But Mu-u-um, it’s a Tri-State Qualifier. We might never get a chance to see Kevin run in one again.”

“It’s okay, Terri,” I interceded. “There are thirty schools competing. If you were there, you’d see about one minute of action involving me getting humiliated.”

“Would you like me to come for support while your mother takes Terri to gymnastics?” asked Dad.

“No, it’s okay. You’d have to take the car and that would leave Mum and Terri either scrounging a lift or taking taxis.”

I think Dad was relieved that I had declined. Then I remembered Mum’s comment about Dad only being human and I wondered whether he got some vicarious enjoyment from watching scantily-clad teenage girls hurling their bodies around. I’d never considered it before, but I reckoned that I would in his place.

“Well, if you’re sure...” he said with a decisive finality.

I hadn’t considered my family might want to watch. Cross-country isn’t exactly a great spectator sport and my chances of good result were limited, to say the least, so I wasn’t disappointed that none of them would be coming to watch me.

After dinner, I retreated to my room to finish my homework.

There was a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I called out.

It was Terri, dressed only in t-shirt and panties again. And she had fantastic gymnasts’ legs, muscular but sleek. Actually, pretty much all of her was fantastic, especially the tight little ass and the firm little breasts that I’d only recently noticed. Sitting at my desk, I was glad that my rapidly inflating cock was out of view.

“If Mum catches you in here dressed like that, she won’t be happy,” I pointed out.

“It’s okay, you’re gay so there’s nothing for her to worry about. I just wanted to say that it sucks not being able to come and watch you on Sunday.”