Free All American Boy by William J. Mann Page A

those few months, the months that saved his life.
    â€œI don’t know. Think it’s a bad idea?”
    The boy looks over at him. “You want my opinion? Are you really asking for my opinion?”
    â€œSure.”
    The boy grins. He’s actually adorable , Wally realizes. Underneath the dyed hair and mascara and attitude, he’s soft and cute, like the boys Wally remembers from the pages of Tiger Beat magazine, stashed under his covers and read by flashlight after he’d gone to bed. The boys he had crushes on: David Cassidy. Bobby Sherman. Jack Wild. And especially Christopher Knight—Peter from The Brady Bunch .
    â€œYeah,” Dee’s saying, “I think you should see him. Otherwise you’ll always regret it when he dies.”
    â€œHe’s that sick, huh?”
    â€œMan, he’s nasty.”
    Wally unzips his backpack. He’d only brought one change of clothes. But he’s going to need more now that he’s promised to take his mother to the doctor.
    â€œHey, Dee, is Grant’s department store still open?”
    â€œGrant’s? Never heard of it. What do you need?”
    â€œJust a couple sweatshirts, maybe some socks and underwear.”
    â€œYou could go to the mall.”
    â€œThere’s a mall in Brown’s Mill?”
    â€œWell, it’s in Mayville, but it’s only about fifteen minutes away on Route 16. They’ve got a Gap and an Abercrombie there.” He grins. “What kind of underwear you want?”
    â€œWhatever’s on sale.”
    â€œOh, come on. Boxers or briefs?”
    Wally laughs. The boy’s jeans are so loose his own choice in undergarments is evident. Boxers. Tommy Hilfiger.
    â€œToday it’s briefs,” Wally says. “Calvin Klein.”
    Dee smiles. “You are so gay.”
    â€œYup. Last time I checked.”
    â€œGay guys your age always wear Calvins. And you all go to the gym.”
    Wally smirks. “So what makes you such an expert on us old-timers?”
    â€œI’ve been around.” Dee smiles. “I actually like older men.”
    Wally laughs. “Well, such noblesse oblige.”
    Most of his life, Wally had been the boy. Even with Ned, who had been just a year older, but who had been so much wiser, so much smarter than Wally. Not book wise, not so that it would show on any standardized test. Wally was the brain but Ned was the smarts, and that kept Wally the bright-eyed boy all through the sixteen years they were together. Sixteen years. As long as Dee has been on this earth.
    It’s odd being the older man. He’d watch the boys he tricked with, their faces unlined as they slept, their easy bounce out of bed in the morning, their quickness to laugh, to presume, to believe. When had he stopped being like them? Wally’s sense of himself remains colored by his life as the kid at the bar, the one for whom the older guys were always buying drinks. “Watch,” Wally would say to Ned, sidling up to a stool. “See how fast I get a beer bought for me.” Such a cocky little child he was, filled with all the arrogance that comes with having a claim on the future.
    â€œNo, I mean it,” Dee is saying. “I can’t stand how some young guys talk about older guys.” He positions himself against the dresser, leaning back just far enough so that his shirt rides up, exposing a glimpse of his flat, smooth stomach. “You know. How they call them old queens. Piano rats. Fossils. Trolls .”
    Oh, the kid’s good , Wally thinks, watching him. Just by putting the terms out there he establishes their positions relative to each other. Dee’s gotten accustomed to having the same power Wally remembers having himself. A power that brings rewards. A power that reveals itself now in the way the boy plays idly with the few strands of hair that grow up from the waistband of his underwear toward his navel.
    â€œNot that they’d say it