[You're damn right I sound scared. I've seen all the slasher flicks -- hell, I've
got a pair of sons now -- and that stuff. but...Look, that last one, "Jason Takes
Manhattan" -- that ought to end it for anyone who's ever met someone from one of
those neighborhoods in New York. That film might have scared some people, but
only because they never showed what happened to Jason when he went to Brooklyn. I
can't imagine Jason or Freddy or any terrorist lasting more than about 30 seconds
with my phantom stepbrother...and he's not even considered particularly tough,
where he comes from!]

Tim and Marty were coming around. With Eric, they got Mark in the car and left.
Marty backed the Challenger into a trash can on the way out of the driveway.

Jeanne stuck her head out of the door -- she'd been upstairs taking a shower; I
never knew anyone who took so many showers -- and asked, "Hey, you guys -- what's
all the noise?"

Dan had retrieved the aluminum chair and was just sitting down again. "Chair
fell," he said and started reading the paper again.

Lisa was still staring.

Jeanne said "Oh" and went back inside. I went to Lisa and touched her arm. She
shivered and said, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Great," Dan said, not looking up. Lisa slid off the rail and scampered off the
porch, heading for home.

I turned to my phantom stepbrother.

"I don't want you or Lisa blabbing about this," he said without looking up.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. They're not going to tell anyone what happened, and if you and
Lisa keep your mouths shut, this'll be the end of it."

"But -- "

"But nothing. Start talking about it, though, and your ferocious foursome will
have to get even -- and since I won't be here all the time, they'll take it out
on you. Just shut up about it. Got it?"

He looked up at me. I nodded, went to him, threw my arms around him and gave him
a big kiss right on the lips. Then I ran into the house and stayed in the
bathroom for about an hour, just shaking.

I saw some of them around town after that, and I saw Marty in school, but none of
them ever said a word to me. I always returned the favor. Later I found out
they'd explained their injuries as being the result of horsing around playing
basketball at Navarre park.

What was kind of funny, though, was they were all cute, and I was so horny and
frustrated that I would've gone with any of them or even all of them if they
hadn't been such damn animals about it. After a week -- and Dan had gone back to
New York for another year -- I was fantasizing about what it might have been like
and kind of regretting the missed opportunity. But over July Fourth weekend, Dad
borrowed Uncle Charlie's summer house on Kelly's Island and took us all out there
and I got the chance to find out what it was like to pull a train.

Kelly's Island is out in Lake Erie. You get there by a ferry from near Port
Clinton. In the winter, when the lake is really frozen, sometimes you can get
there by sled or ice boat or even car, but every year a couple of dweebs go
through the ice and drown when they try that.

It's some sort of national park -- at least part of it is -- and there's all this
stuff left over from when the glaciers gouged the Great Lakes out of the
continent. It's very quiet, very pretty and very dull -- to a young person with
an active libido.

I was less than thrilled by the time we got to the house, a big ol' place about
halfway up a hill and looking northeast over the lake. Dad and Mom were doing
Dad-and-Mom stuff -- Mom was cleaning and organizing, and Dad was looking for
things to fix. My little brothers had discovered a treehouse and were as happy as
'coons in a garbage dump. Jeanne loved that nature stuff and immediately headed
out for the wildlife trails. Alexis, with her blonde hair and big ass, had gotten
herself picked up by some lumbering islander on the ferry; he had a red Mustang
convertible, so she had everything she needed.

All I had was an itch and two weeks of boredom to look forward to. Or so I
thought.

The house was against the side of a steep hill. Above us was all forest and the
top of the hill was part of the national park-land, so it was pretty much
deserted. It was a good place to get away from Mom's nagging and Dad's cussing
and my brothers' shouting and bickering. There was a very faint trail climbing up
the hill in a series of cutbacks.

I was wearing some cutoff jeans -- these were cut just above my knees -- and I'd
filched one of Alexis's halter tops. It fit, which was a nice change of pace for
me, since I'd started sprouting again. I'd thought about shopping for a real
swimsuit, but when I measured myself, I was up to 27-19-25. So much for a real
swimsuit.

About two-thirds of the way to the top, a dog suddenly appeared from the bush. He
wasn't very big, and he was purebred mutt with a lot of basset in him. He
stopped, looked at me, then wagged his tail and came right over, his great big
eyes looking up at me. I let him sniff my hand and whine, and when he rubbed his
head against my fingers, I started scratching around his ears and under his
jowls. His tail wagged even more. We chased each other up the trail a little, and
then he barked once, in enthusiasm. He didn't have a collar, and I kind of hoped
he was a stray. He was a neat dog.

Then someone whistled from the cliff. He barked once at me and started scooting
up the trail. I followed.

Just as I huffed past the top of the trail, I saw about a half-dozen kids on
blankets. The kids looked like they were about 16 or so, some older, some -- the
girls -- maybe a little younger. The dog was with one of the guys, who was
watching me.

I said "Hi!" and introduced myself and told him what a neat dog he had.

His name was Ike. He and the other kids there lived on the island. He was about a
foot taller than me and not bad looking, but boy, did he have a built on him! The
fact that he was shirtless made it hard to miss, too.

They invited me to hang out with them, and I was glad they did, since it meant
some variation at least. The boys all checked me out -- so did the girls -- but
no one came on to me...then. The girls seemed a little stand-offish. That made
sense. Kelly's Island isn't big, and in a place like that, when girls get paired
off with boyfriends, they don't want newcomers to upset the balance of things.
But when they found out I wasn't going to be 12 for a couple of weeks, most of
them relaxed. One of them, Reenie -- her real name was Maureen -- offered to meet
me at the house the next day and show me a shortcut. I thought that was nice.
Reenie was 16 and had a nice face and real dark, straight hair -- she said her
great-grandmother was an Indian -- but the most noticeable things about her were
her tits. She had these huge boobs; I mean, they had to be as big as canteloupes.

When she came to the house to call for me, Dad kept staring at her tits like he'd
never seen breasts before. As we were walking to the shortcut, I warned her as
much as I dared about Dad. I told her he was going to be grabbing her tits if he
got her alone -- Dad was notorious for that, especially if he'd had a couple of
beers.

She looked at me and said, "You know, it's hard to believe you're only 12."

I smiled and said that was the way it was.

She told me that when she was my age, her tits were bigger than mine, but she was
also taller. And she confided that she'd found the attention her figure got from
boys was an interesting diversion from what had become a pretty boring routine.

Since it was tell-all time, I took the bait and revealed that I was not exactly
some little innocent. She set the hook and reeled me in, and I told her a little
of my exploits. She told me a little of hers, but not much.

The same group was there plus a few more. Boys now outnumbered girls. I figured
I'd better play it safe and not mess around and assumed that all the boys were
spoken for; no flirting by me, no siree bob.

Some of the boys were throwing a softball around, and a couple of the girls were
playing cards, and it was nice. We all just laid around in the sunshine and
enjoyed each other's company. From time to time, I noticed Reenie talking
privately to one or two of the girls. From the way they looked at me after the
chats, I knew what she'd told them. I didn't really mind, not even when I noticed
some of the boys started looking at me different, too, after the girls talked to
them.

Later in the afternoon, a couple of couples paired off and were making out under
an old elm. They were going at it pretty hot and heavy. One of the boys, Vernon,
had been rubbing his girlfriend's rather scrawny tit, and he was moving the other
hand down between Ellen's legs. She didn't stop him when he started rubbing her
off through her shorts. She was so skinny that her brown legs were like two pipes
sticking out of her shorts. There was enough room for him to get his fingers
inside one leg of the shorts -- and he did. I knew from the way she was moving,
and he was moving that he was fingering her. They kept it up till she came, then
he stood and led her by the hand back into the woods.

Reenie said something like, "Those two are like rabbits." She looked at me and
grinned a little crookedly.

I nodded and said, "Lucky her -- at least she's got a boyfriend with her." Then I
looked at the cards in my hand and rummied the straight flush someone had played
earlier.

On the way back to my house, Reenie told me they were going to have a little
weenie roast that night, and I was welcome to come. She said almost everyone
would be there, including some kids I hadn't met. She said since it was going to
be full moon, they might go for a swim in a pond back in the woods.

It sounded great and I agreed.

When Reenie came for me at the house, it was almost six-thirty. Mom and Dad had
been drinking Blatz all afternoon, and I knew they were going to be asleep early,
which meant my brothers were going to be put to bed early. Alexis was, as usual,
Out, and Jeanne was in the bathroom, trying to drain the cistern -- as usual. I
knew what she was really doing in there but what the hell?

When we got to the top, it was just getting dark. There were about 15 kids there.
Someone had built a real careful campfire in a depression scooped out of the
dirt, and a couple of kids were roasting weenies and marshmallows on sticks. Most
of the kids there were availing themselves of the beer someone had brought -- a
couple of cases of Blatz and Carling. Vernon and Ellen were making out.