A Different Kind of Christmas Carol

by Zustara Orur

CHAPTER ONE:

Of course we all knew Jeff was English, despite the fact I think he tried to hide it. Not that he used some kind of fake, bad American accent, no. It was just that whenever he was in school amongst 'everybody', he spoke without any kind of accent whatsoever really. It was some strangely neutral version of the language that you couldn't place anywhere on a map. It landed squarely in the center of the Atlantic Ocean right in between Plymouth and New York you might say, without being colored by either side.

Whenever he was in a smaller group where he felt comfortable however, he'd glide back to his smooth Brit pronunciation, perhaps without even knowing it. I loved it, listening to his voice... He spoke so precisely, with such measure, yet it wasn't stiff or contrived or anything like that. Words just rolled off his pink, delicious tongue, and they were all almost like poetry to my ears. Not the coarse, grating version of English that all the rest of us - me included - spoke. I'm not ashamed to say I thought Jeff was supremely attractive, despite he was a guy just like myself.

Furthermore, it did not help that Jeff was rather handsome too, dare I say it even pretty actually! He was my age, yet still slightly baby faced, his hair a deep golden-blonde with the tiniest tinge of red in it, eyes that were nearly green and almost blue, stuck somewhere halfway in between, really small and awesomely cute ears, and what he had going for beard growth was nothing but pale downy fuzz so far. He shaved that off regularly, what little he had, perhaps in embarrassment. He wasn't a late bloomer in other respects though. Taller than most his age, and a good build too. Despite being a rich-boy he did not mind getting his hands dirty or his pants torn either for that matter, oh no. Not at all! Jeff loved playing rugby for example, the rougher the better! He used to call US guys wimps for using so much protective gear in American football! He quickly made himself a home in our team though, made it more or less his own actually! Initially people were giving him a very hard time, the fucking limey who came from nowhere and thought he could teach everybody else how to do things! Jeff quickly proved everyone wrong however, he could take as well as he gave. Even better actually.

When he'd first arrived, not even fully a year ago, he'd been challenged the very first day because he'd been wearing a sort-of snobbish scarf around his neck under his jacket. Greg, our resident school uber-bully, couldn't let that pass, but to everybody's great surprise - Greg included - Jeff actually seemed eager to get down to business so to speak. Greg won of course, he always does, being the backstabbing, no-good, cheatin' vermin that he is. That wasn't the real surprise however, but after it was over, Jeff got up - bloody nose and eye busy puffing up and all - brushed himself off and held out his hand to Greg. 'Jolly good fight!', or something like that he'd said. Like it had been some sort of gentlemen's competition or something. Jeff meant it too, he's always a very honest and sincere person I learned later, but Greg didn't much understand the concept of sportsmanship and slapped Jeff's hand away saying he wasn't in the business of shaking hands with losers. 'Faggoty losers' actually was the exact term he used. Jeff however merely shrugged, not much concerned with being turned down like that, I guess he was sort-of expecting it. He also seemed to expect what came next when Greg started to turn away like he was leaving. Except, he wasn't leaving, he just tried to surprise Jeff with a sucker-punch, which the other dodged quite easily, only to land a perfect upper-cut on the tip of Greg's chin for his trouble, knocking him out cold for almost half a minute. I (and Greg too by the way) learned later, Jeff was quite an accomplished amateur boxer as well, and would have won handily against that mean bully to begin with, but he didn't think it very fair to use his superior skill in what was nothing but a common fistfight. That was Jeff in a nutshell... Doing 'the right thing', not because he'd been raised to, or because he was SUPPOSED to, but simply because he wanted to!

Greg never bothered with Jeff after that, and Jeff got tons of detention too of course, but took it all in stride despite the fact he's of kind-of blue blood descent and probably could have weaseled himself out of it if he'd just tried to. Our school management are such kiss-asses when it comes to rich people, they get all kinds of preferential treatment, it's totally disgusting. Jeff really did try to just be one of the guys though, the scarf was never to be seen again, he wore good clothes sure, but never extravagant ones. MY family could probably have afforded Jeff's clothes actually (just wouldn't have been much left for my sisters and my little bro; we had to settle for decent quality stuff, though the younger ones didn't have to inherit their siblings' grown-out rags thankfully).

Jeff however, despite being considerably better off than most wasn't snobbish or looked down on others, less fortunate ones. I know, it's such a tired cliché, the noble rich-boy who doesn't care about wealth, but I got the impression Jeff was genuinely bothered by it. He even got the cold shoulder by Hannah and her brat-pack, our city's TRULY wealthy people. Hannah's dad had to be good for at least ninety million bucks, and he treated his daughter like she was a queen despite she was only fifteen. She was thoroughly spoiled and despised by many, but envied and attended to by considerably more. She was not even remotely interested in Jeff despite the fact he was one of the most good-looking guys in school, at least somewhere near her social bracket on the income scale AND available too. Not that that last bit mattered much to her however, she always took what she wanted. Most guys were only too eager to just get to be seen with her (few, if anyone was ever allowed to kiss those stuck-up lips of hers though, and NONE were ever worthy to go any further than that). The guys, they'd dump who could be the love of their life for the opportunity to be (ab)used by Hannah for maybe a month or two before she tired of him, hopelessly wishing she'd fall in love in him and nobody else... To this day, I don't think she understands even the meaning of the word 'love'... Me? Surely you MUST be joking! It seemed Hannah McLaren didn't spend even as much as a glance at anybody whose dad made less than $150.000 a year, and even then the looks were rather frosty. Besides, I wouldn't even want to be caught dead in between bedsheets with her and all her female kind... They just don't appeal to me, and don't get me started on all those weird anatomical bits and bobs they got on their bodies!

I don't want to knock every girl in my school of course (or on the rest of the planet either for that matter), but female woes were one thing that patently did NOT work on me quite the same way as on my similarly aged friends. That used to worry me something awful a couple years ago, I thought it was just a hormone thing. That being interested in girls would be like a switch being turned in my head when my body had matured enough, but it just never happened. I reached puberty and parts of me grew and were adorned by silly hair, my voice broke, I stumbled into the pimple-phase, I got out of said pimple-phase... (And quickly too I have to say! I SO detest pimples!) Still, nothing happened. My mind and my preferences were all the same as before.

That's when I more or less decided to stop worry so much and kind of just resign to the fact I would not, could not love a girl. Not as anything more than a friend anyway... It just wasn't meant to be for me.

I mentioned he'd start to speak British English when with people he felt comfortable with. Pretty soon, that was more or less his entire age-group, give or take a year perhaps, as long as he was in a small circle of friends. He made friends so easily, so naturally, I was totally envious of course. I was a part of one such circle, but Jeff had so many other circles that we never spent much time together at all. If I got twenty minutes in one week together with him that was actually a good week! I didn't exactly worship the very ground he walked on, and I didn't feel a wish to fall on my knees and kiss every footstep of his. Not consciously. However, looking back on it all it becomes clear to me that was exactly what I was doing, without ever realizing it... I was totally, completely besotted with him, his open and friendly demeanor, his compelling personality, his enticing voice, his good looks of course, and his extravagantly sexy body.

I guess my sub-conscious wanted to spend the rest of eternity making out with him, touching, squeezing... At times, when I was near him but not in his circle, I'd drift off and just stare at him at a distance, getting the hardest of hard-ons without ever really thinking a single rational thought. Least of all about him actually, about Jeff... I'd just get awesomely stiff and sit there and feel good about it, like he and I were alone together already. Several times I felt so turned on I almost cummed in my own pants without even touching myself at all, looking at him was quite enough, looking and loving I guess.

I'd imagine, the few moments we were together (always in a group of other people of course, never alone on our own), that he'd smile more at me than at anybody else. Look more at me than anyone else. Look into my eyes, even. DEEP into my eyes... It was a nice fantasy. I'd smile like a crazy fool just by his eyes sweeping past me, and if he LOOKED straight at me, often I had to lower my head because I'd actually start blushing, sometimes rather furiously (if he was smiling also). I think some of my friends were starting to catch on to the looks I gave him and my generally weird behavior whenever he was near, but nobody said anything. They were good buddies, caring for me. I wasn't like Jeff, I was shorter (if not a midget) and flimsy, platinum-blonde hair and a pale skin that made me seem a bit transparent actually, as if too much sunlight would make me wilt or something. I suppose it's fitting, you can't be Arnold Schwarzenegger if people call you Timmy (or sometimes, 'little Timmy' even)... Not that I really mind. I very much felt like a Timmy, and it also felt rather natural for a little Timmy to be gay. Oh yes. Little Timothy is gay alright...

But that was as far as little Timmy's self-assurance went I'm afraid. Unlike Jeff, I could not make a home amongst just any people, I'd feel unwanted and out of place, I'd feel WRONG. I would not dare to speak to people for fear of making a fool out of myself, and I'd sneak off as the first opportunity presented itself. Maybe I was just plain shy, I'm not sure. Maybe people really did not mind having me around, who can say? I simply preferred to stick to my little group of best friends, and sometimes Jeff would join us. Not to grace us with his presence, oh no. He didn't consider himself better than any of the others. Usually the reason he started talking at all was because he wanted to know if I would come to watch their next game or not.

ME! Not anyone else!

That was the biggest reason I kept nurturing my little fantasy. I suppose he wanted me there because I'd sort of become the biggest sports nut of the school since he had joined the football team. Don't ask me how the other teams were doing in the league because I didn't really know. Heck, I didn't even really know the NAMES of the other teams! I used to fake it pretty well, I could convince people I knew all about it just by listening to the conversation and improvising. First rule: any team name other than our own are our enemies. Didn't really need any other rules actually! Guess that comes from having been in the drama group since I first had the chance to attend the drama group... By the time Jeff burst onto my scene, I could pretty much wing it in any situation and still make it sound convincing if I was in a rehearsal and had forgotten my lines. I had even written a few short plays by myself, though I never dared to show them to anyone.

Our football team however... I was their biggest fan! GO GRIZZLIES, GO! GO JEFFREY GO! I'd shout myself hoarse at every game I could go to, and when he scored...! That was just the best of moments for me!

Without a doubt, I was the team's most dedicated follower and their only groupie. Not because of my love of the sport or because our team was such a great team (to be honest, they were average at best), but that did not really matter. My love came for an entirely different reason...

Jeff was always anxious to have me at a game, but I could only go when they played at their home venue or one of the neighboring cities, my travel budget did not allow any extravagant expenses, and whenever I could not be there it was pretty clear that Jeff missed me. ...As a supporter, I mean. I couldn't even begin to hope for anything else! I suppose I was a big morale booster whenever I was up on the bleachers, their own version of the Rally Monkey or something. I was better at getting our supporters cheering than our cheer leaders! That must have been the reason he appreciated me I guessed.