I followed Trenton into the bowels of the hotel. Trent sounded better. "I dub thee . . . drum roll please (I slap my hands repeatedly against my legs). . . Trent. Thou art no longer a piece of machinery, but have achieved the noble status of a piece of climbing equipment: 'hammer the Trent into the wall'". For that, he slaps me playfully across the back of the head, but he is smiling so I assume that the comment did not upset him. We have stopped outside room 137.
"Here we are wetty marky." I guess I deserved that, and oddly enough I don't get upset when he says it. I snort rudely instead. He unlocks the door. "Welcome to my palace." With that he throws the door open. I'll actually get to see another of the hotel's rooms. It's basically the same as the one my parents and I are staying in. A two bedroom affair, with an adjoining bathroom for each. There is a communal living room sort of area in between with ugly paintings of flowers. It seems his family arrived quite recently, because their bags are strewn around the communal area. Trent locates his bag, rummages through it, and eventually locates the chess board. "Where yah wanna play? This room is so dull. I suggest we go back outside."
"Suits me fine." Well, it did. I have no reason to stay here, and outside I can attempt to remove my vampiric resemblance with the help of his mightiness, the sun. "How good are you at the noble game? I'm on the team for my school, but nowhere near the top".
"Not too bad, although it is hard for me to gauge. Never been on a team, but my dad was, and I play against him when he's around. While on holiday he usually busies himself partying, so I usually end up whipping my little bro or letting him win. That ends up detracting from the fun of game." This is followed by what might be a sad little smile. My turn to poke him in the ribs.
"You were the one telling me not to feel sorry for myself, so you got no place feeling sorry for yourself. Or are you one of those annoying preachers who believe in 'doing what I say, not what I do'?" He counter pokes, and I attack him, bringing us both to the floor and causing him to drop the chess board. My primary weapon is to tickle my opponent's ribs, because most people are sensitive in that area. Being shirtless, he is the perfect target. I mercilessly execute mission Tickle Trent, or TT. Oooooh, he is extra sensitive there and squirms violently, emitting a bubbling giggle while attempting in vain to remove my invasive fingers. I keep going till I can see tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. His laughing triggers my own, and before I know it, we are a writhing mass of uncontrollably laughing teen boy. You know when someone else starts laughing hard, you suddenly start as well, even if you don't know what was funny in the first place? Sort of like contagious laughter? That's what happened. Tears from our battle are running down his blemish free face. I realize then that he isn't really bigger than me. Just more muscular. Trent could have thwarted my tickling attempt had he wanted to. I wonder why he didn't.
We must have been making a lot of noise, but none of the poor patrons came out to tell us to buzz off or quieten down. Luckily, very luckily. I didn't fancy getting into trouble on the first day of the trip. Mainly because it was looking as though it wasn't going to be so bad after all.
When the fit has passed, I disentangle myself and start to pick up the scattered chess pieces. I turn round momentarily, in time to see Trent standing up and smoothing his hair in an attempt to regain his dignity. I present him with the board and box of pieces. "That'll teach you to poke me in the ribs." I wink at him playfully. He winks back. I register nothing. Nothing at all. Not that he looks unusually contented when he peers at me. Not that he looks at me for just a split second too long. Not that ever since we left the pool, he has been grinning like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. This is only significant because he had looked rather depressed when he first poked me by the swimming pool. These things are not concerns for me at this stage. I'll worry about them later. Oh boy, will I worry.
See, I have never really thought of myself from a sexual point of view. Neither as a sexually desirable object (heaven forbid!), nor what luscious nymph/et might interest me. I suppose you might say that I was asexual in that regard. Of course there was energetic banter between me and my friends back home. Heck, to get them to concentrate on someone else, I made a point of being the most overt of the lot. This girl is so incredibly hot, look at that one's boobs, the other one has such nice legs. In hindsight, I was a crude, foul mouthed male chauvinist. That was on the outside though. I never thought about that sort of thing beyond the chatter with my overly hormonal compatriots. I have had wet dreams, but can never remember who was in them. The only real result is that I wake up every now and then rather sticky around my midriff. Erections come (har har, NO) and go as they do with a boy of my age, but they rarely mean anything significant with regard to being attracted to a potential mate. They tend to surface at the worst possible times. I will happily be sitting in Geography class, ignoring the teacher and thinking profound thoughts of dragons and the powerful wizards that rode them. As the bell rings to signify freedom, Mark jnr. will decide to wake up and say hello to the world. And I mean really say hello. Why not at the beginning of the period? It can come and go before anyone could possibly notice. But nooo. The little guy will not obliging. I have learned to wear really baggy pants, and carry my bag in from of me when that sort of thing happens.
We put the chess board down on my towel back by the pool, and sit facing each other setting it up. He says that I should play white, and since I am not one for the British politeness of arguing about this sort of thing, I agree. I decide not to do the traditional kings pawn opening, and go for moving the left knight's pawn up one. He moves the right knight out and to the right. It is an interesting game; challenge enough to be really fun. He isn't so good as to beat me easily and make me feel like a right old Charlie, and he isn't so bad that I make him feel like a right old Charlie. It's evenly matched. So much so, that it results in a stale mate. It's been ages since that's happened to me. Everyone at school is either much better than me, or much worse. The game was a lot of fun. We decided to play a few more games. I win a few, and so does he. I really like that, since I know that there is the possibility of winning, but I have to fight tooth and nail to achieve victory.
And now it's lunch time. Holy cow, where did the time go? I basically only got a couple of hours sleep last night, and now all of a sudden it is midday. I must have been having a really great time, because, like the old saying goes 'time flies when you're having fun'. I really don't want to lose track of him now. I'm not sure what to do, since I should probably go back to the hotel room to see if my parents have returned. He must have been thinking exactly the same thing, because he suggests that we meet outside the restaurant with our respective parents. Wow, someone who actually wants to be around me after seeing part of my bad side. That's new.
I scuttle frantically back to my room, but alas my parents have not yet returned from their gallivant. Now what? I don't have enough money on me to pay for my lunch, and it would take ages to get to the bank (plus it would just be so much easier if my parents could pay. I have better uses for my money than food.). Think Mark, think. No, I am not stressed. I just do not want to watch Losing Nemo over and over for the next two weeks, and Trent seems like a nice enough guy. Well, I can't just not pitch up. I better go down and tell him. Maybe we can meet after they have had lunch and continue the festivities? I can wait for my parents to return and feed me (that is if they remember to feed me) and then we can continue having fun. Well, as it turns out, I don't need to worry. He is waiting by himself just outside the restaurant.
"Listen, I'll have to catch up with you later this afternoon. My parents are still out, so I better wait for them to come back. I can then get lunch and we can . . ." but he interrupts my carefully prepared speech.
"Why don't you just join us for lunch?" I stand for a few seconds not saying anything, my mouth still open. What can I say? I don't want to intrude. Ok, maybe I do, but I don't want to seem like I want to intrude. So that's what I say. Yeah, I can be cunning, I know.
"I don't want to intrude." But at that he lets out a single mocking laugh.
"Don't be silly. I've been whining at my parents about this holiday for weeks. I've become proficient at it. They would be oh so happy to see I've found a friend. Come on. You can meet my family." He looks so excited. Well, what do I have to lose? This will not have been the first time my parents had gone off while on summer holiday and forgotten my stomach. But I have to test it one last time.
"Are you sure? I will feel rather like a third wheel." I add a pout for good measure. Fine, call me a demonic, manipulative good for nothing little imp, but I have to know.
"Of course you stubborn little cretin. Come." He literally drags me in. I guess I know now, don't I? I'm beginning to feel a bit nervous though. What will his parents think of me? What are they like? And what of his little brother?
This must be some special day, because there is a jazz band on a stand in the restaurant. And it's a big-band jazz band what's more. You know, the one with a whole section of players for each instrument. There's a singer what's more. My train of thought is interrupted by: "Mom, dad, Richy, this is Mark. I met him this morning by the pool and we really hit if off. Can he join us for lunch?"
Sounds from the band drift over. After a stunned silence from his parents, his dad snaps out of it and says "Sure. Absolutely. Anything to stop your insanely annoying complaints about this family trip. Don't worry about formalities Mark: just call me Julian, and my wife Sarah. Those are our names you see." Trent roles his eyes at this silly joke, but I smile, and decide to be a little cheeky.
"Would you mind calling me sir then, Julian?" I fear the worst for a second, but then the entire table bursts out laughing. Trent included. He looks relieved. Perhaps he thought his parents would scare me, or that I would think they're lame. Let me tell you, they are the nicest parents I know (from what little I know of them), other than my own. All my other friends have some problems in that are of life at home. It is rather a relief to find that Trent's folks are normal, and even have a sense of humor! Bonus. Oh, that song!
". . . 'taint no use. Definitely isn't any use. I cooked my goose." Sings the man on stage energetically. I love jazz so incredibly much. It's my music. One might say that it speaks to me. Especially the big band. It must show, me wiggling my bum to the song.
"You like jazz? Most kids these days go in for rock and that sort of evil, devil inspired music. You must be a good kid of you like jazz." Interesting deciding factor, but I'll take what I can get. I can now see where Trent gets his lilting voice. His mom. It is also nice to know that I am an acceptable friend. But Trenty seems embarrassed by this comment, because he rolls his eyes again, and blushes red like his hair, turning his head into an apple. I can't explain why, but I love that quirky trait. His brother looks like an exact miniature Trent. I feel rather sorry for Richy, because he is being left out of this conversation. The resemblance is uncanny. Down to the blue flecks. I decide to try and include the poor guy.
"Richy, do you not object as vehemently as your brother to being taken on holiday?" Shame, he looks startled when I speak to him. I feel bad, because everyone at the table is now staring at him, and he has a hunted look on his face. I can see the gears in his mind turning. Who to please? Big brother Trent and his new friend, or suck up to mommy and daddy.
"I don't really mind. Nothing better to do really." He squeaks. Trent gets a naughty gleam in his eye.
"Traitor! You hate is here as much as I do. You just choose not to make this fact as public as I do." That was unkind. The little man looks so persecuted. He can't be more that seven. Am I making him uncomfortable? Does he want to impress me? I guess always wanting a little brother triggers my wanting to make him feel at ease.
"Don't mind him Richy. I dislike this place intensely too, and I've been coming here for years and years. The problem with being an only child is that my complaints go unheeded. United you two will conquer!" Richy relaxes visibly, and smiles at me as if to say thanks. However this comment gets two responses from the table. It earns me yet another jab to my poor ribs from Trent.
And his dad chuckles, responding after winking "Maybe your coming here was not a good thing. You inspire dissent in the troops. I think we should send you back to wherever you came from."
To which Trent objects, causing me to smile "Come on dad. He was just kidding. I really . . ."
"Whoh. Relax son. I was just joking. I wouldn't dare banish someone who might just shut you up for the next little while." This guy seems really cool. I like him. Is there a chance Trenton will become a real true friend to me? I haven't got any of those. Another of my favorite songs!
". . . It's a just like taking candy from a baby. 'Cause I couldn't resist you from the start . . ."
Lunch is the most fun I have had in ages. We all joke around, and even Richy loosens up after a while. Dare I say that is was perfect? My favorite music, a substitute little brother to pretend that I am being protective over, a friend who might just ease the passage of this holiday, and his parents who are fun to be around. Oh, and really great food. Who can forget the food. We reach the end of pudding, and one by one push our plates away, making satisfied, contented noises. To me, the only people in that room for that whole meal were those at our table. I decide after a moment's contemplation to invite Richy to join me and Trent for the afternoon. My brain is in slow-mo after that lunch.
"Richy, do you want to join me and Trent for the afternoon? Hang out with us?" I'm confused to see Trent look a bit upset at this proposition. Does he hate his little brother that much?
"Please, oh please Tren." Pleads Richy at the sight of his brother's face. "I've got nothing to do all afternoon, and was dragged around all morning my mom and dad." His eyes sparkle. He really wants to hang out with us. My brotherly instincts kick in, and I return Trent's earlier jab. I decide to defend my newly found little brother.
"Come on. We can do more with three than we can with two. Think, piggy in the middle. You're it Trent buddy." I put on my evilest grin. Before he can object to this grossly unfair nomination, his father interjects.
"Go on you lot. Have fun, that's an order." I help a dumbfounded Trent out of his chair. I can see he hasn't planned on Richy tagging along, but I can't see the problem either. Richy is a nice enough kid from what I can see. I will see the problem later. Oh how I will see what I can't now - see with blinding sight. The playful clarinet leaps of the opening of Scarecrow signal our exit.
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