This story is written by Les Lea
Monday morning and I was up bright and early. Even though the weather had turned a bit gloomy I was very excited about going back to school and seeing Kenny again, I had so much to tell him and, I suspect, he had loads to tell me. Perhaps, for the first time, I didn’t mind my schoolboy uniform. I had realised what an important part it had played in me and Kenny becoming friends and now, I was eager to wear it again, a sort of acknowledgement of what our friendship meant to me.
Yesterday, when we’d arrived home, I had already written most of my report which I was eager to deliver to Miss Pendle. I’d been making notes every night in a diary and it had been easy to copy out and make into a pretty good essay, even if I do say so myself. Of course I didn’t mention everything. I didn’t mention my crying or wetting myself or… or… the bully and his mates (or Jake shoving him in the pool) but I did mention all the things we visited. I was quite pleased with it and looked forward to sharing its contents with Kenny. I know I was excited at the prospect of hearing all about his exploits while away.
As usual my uniform was already laid out waiting for me and as I returned from the bathroom I was in a bit of a dilemma as to what to wear under the shorts. I’d worn a mixture of briefs or pull-ups whilst we were away, even though I’d been wearing only my briefs to school before the break. However, I wanted to show some kind of affinity to our early experiences together, and thought that Kenny might appreciate the new purple quilted diaper cover that auntie had made for me. To be honest it worked better the thicker the diaper underneath it covered; it made it tight and full and looked shiny and sheer. Without a thick diaper it looked a bit cumbersome but I pulled the sides tight, the Velcro ripping as I kept readjusting until I was happy with my reflection. It still wasn’t perfect but I’d decided that I wanted to wear it on its own on this occasion. I also liked the slight rustling noise it made when I walked and when I had my grey shorts pulled up I thought no one would be able to tell what I was wearing.
I arrived at school and was looking around for Kenny. Jake had gone off to meet his friends (who mobbed him and seemed happy to see his return) even Adam, who sheepishly waved to me, was soon engulfed in the posse of third and fourth graders who swamped my brother. Still I couldn’t see Kenny anywhere. I asked a few of his mates from the various teams that he played for but no one had seen him. Like me they had only got the answering machine when I’d called the night before, so that didn’t help any.
As we went into class I handed in my report to Miss Pendle and asked if she knew where Kenny was. She looked around and seemed surprised he wasn’t there but suggested that he may have been held up if his plane got in late. This partially put my mind at rest but I was uneasy not having my best friend nearby. It was strange because I couldn’t really concentrate on my morning lessons and at break, with still no Kenny, I began to worry. I begged Miss Pendle to find out what had happened and she said she would try and get me an answer.
She returned with the news that the Principal had received a call saying that the Morrisons had been held up in the UK, although she didn’t specify for what reason. Although she did try to put my worries aside when she said that in Europe, they were always having strikes and disputes that affected the airlines. I hoped this was the case but I was still getting quite emotional that he wasn’t around.
I spent lunch time sitting with a few friends of Kenny’s but hardly contributed much to the chatter. When we returned to class Miss Pendle had marked everyone’s essays and addressed the twenty faces that were looking up at her.
“I’d like to thank everyone for doing such incredible work and writing such amazing accounts about what you’ve all been doing in your break.” She looked around the room and added in a conspiritol tone, “Some of you have had a very exciting time.”
I was quite distracted in my thoughts as to what had happened to Kenny so wasn’t really paying too much attention to what she was saying. Suddenly I heard my name called and I was summoned to the front of the class. I was dreading that she must have some further news about Kenny but she was beaming a huge smile.
“However, I’d like to ask Simon here to read his to you all. You may remember he had us spellbound with one of his earlier stories and I think this report of his visit to the capital deserves for everyone to hear it.”
She handed me back my pages and I was stunned to see ‘A+’ circled at the top of my paper.
“I think you have done really well,” she quietly encouraged me, “I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and I’d like the rest of your classmates to hear about you experiences.”
Unexpectedly I was consumed by nerves. I could feel the plastic interior of my purple quilted diaper cover fill with sweat and, without Kenny on hand to offer some kind of support, I wasn’t sure I could go through with it. The moist, slickness and slipperiness of the plastic next to my skin sent a strange feeling to my head. I knew it was something I liked but at that moment I just wasn’t sure. I hummed and shuffled the pages a bit whilst I tried to compose my feelings. Miss Pendle was still smiling and reassuring but there was something else in my head as a wriggled and tried to rearrange things in my shorts.
My anxiety returned and I suddenly worried that I might wet myself in front of the entire class. As I tugged at my shorts, the shiny quilted cover slipped down slightly displaying the shiny purple edging around the top of my legs and could be seen by anyone who looked. However, that minor change in the way the cover fit sent a shiver of excitement as it released the snugness from around my penis. The sensation was like an electric charge caressing my leg and I heard myself make an audible noise (that wasn’t the start of my story) so, to try and cover that strange sound, I hesitantly began my report.
Something had happened in my pants. I wasn’t sure what but I was hopeful it wasn’t pee. I sort of dreaded that there would be a trickle down the inside of my thighs but, as the sensual feeling dulled, I grew more confident in my story, I realised that, although those who could see would see my purple pants hanging down, thankfully nothing else would be visible. After all, this class had seen both Kenny and myself wearing thick diapers and no one had batted an eyelid. So, as I got into the report my self-assurance grew and I became more animated in the telling.
They all sat attentive as I told them of all the monuments we had visited. They laughed as I told them about Jake’s encounter with dinosaurs at the museum and how he greeted each one with a growl and wondered if he shouldn’t have put on his dinosaur onesie to meet them. There was a chorus of “Typical Jake” and “That’s Jake for you” and once again I realised just what a popular boy my brother was… everyone knew him. With my final words I looked up and was suddenly depressed because there was no one at the desk where Kenny normally sat. However, there was a surprising spontaneous cheer and wild applause that brought me back to the real world.
Even Miss Pendle was clapping me. “That was excellent Simon,” she patted my… well… what felt like my unbelievably slippery bottom and sent me back to my seat. “I think we can all agree that our Simon…” the applause continued, “may one day be a famous writer.”
I returned to my seat having never experienced anything like it before. I was getting pats on the back and ‘Well dones” from all my class mates and I could feel my squishy plastic diaper cover offering a different thrill as I sat and humbly wondered what had happened… and wishing that Kenny had been there to hear it.
By Wednesday there was still no sign of Kenny so I asked both mum and auntie if they would call his mother and find out what was happening. They didn’t really want to disturb the family in the UK but saw how distressed I was getting (and perhaps worried that they may have been some further wetting problems on the horizon) mum eventually called Mrs Morrison’s cell.
Mum talked for ages, I wasn’t able to hear all that was being said and my requests to speak with Kenny were always received with a shake of the head as she continued the conversation. Eventually she put the phone down and said she was sorry, but Kenny hadn’t been around to chat he was still in Edinburgh with his grandfather, while they were in London trying to sort out all manner of visas and late return flights. Apparently, Mr Morrison’s father, Kenny’s grandfather, had insisted that his grandson should be taught in one of Scotland’s top boarding schools. It had been something he hadn’t been able to do for his own sons because of the divorce and he had no money, but now he was a successful businessman, he wanted to at least try and give his grandchildren some advantages.
Mr McDorran had been married to Pearl for six years when they divorced. He had an affair with a barmaid and Pearl took her two sons; John, who was 5 and the eldest and Gordon, Kenny’s daddy, who was then 3 years old to start a new life. Pearl met and married an American, Thomas Morrison, and they returned to his home town of Oakland in the USA. Over the years, Mr McDorran continued his wild and impetuous lifestyle until ten years later he met and married his current wife, Margret Magraw. She was more than a match for him and steered him into a new fledgling business that over the years proved to be very successful. Mr and Mrs McDorran were now very wealthy and very well respected but the one regret he had was his abandonment of his two sons. With his wife’s encouragement he set about tracing them and try to make amends. Eventually he tracked down Gordon, it was just after his son Kenny was born, and offered help. That first approach was immediately rejected. However, as Gordon and John had stayed in close contact, and he didn’t see why he should deny his brother the contact he’d rejected, he did offer his father an address by which he could get in touch his eldest.
John, who after a very turbulent child and early adulthood, was now living as a woman called Joanne in a nearby town. She broke down on meeting her father after all this time and was most grateful for the help he offered. So, to some extent, the healing had begun. It took Gordon a further ten years before he was anywhere near forgiving his father but, as his mother and step-father were dead, thought he should at least try to form some kind of bridge between them. This visit was supposed to be that bridge.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I realised what mum was telling me – I may never see Kenny again. I burst into tears and, despite both mum’s and auntie’s comforting arms, was quite inconsolable. I ran, bleary-eyed to my room and threw myself down on my bed, the bed where Kenny and I had snuggled and hugged and kissed together, and let out a roar of pain that I didn’t know I had in me.
I lay sobbing for what seemed like ages unable to come to terms with the fact that Kenny had moved on without me. I alternated between anger and sadness and wasn’t sure which took priority as I stared at the treasured framed photographs on my desk top of us two together.
Eventually, mum’s calming and soothing fingers stroking my hair and whispering understanding words sent me off to sleep. My mind must have put the trauma I was feeling on hold as I slept right through until morning and I was still in the same, fully-clothed position I was in when I threw myself onto the bed.
I really didn’t want to get up and go to school, but, in our house at least, that wasn’t going to be an option.
Mum had set out my uniform while I’d slept and I could hear the rest of the family getting up and ready for the day ahead. The shower washed away some of my sadness and the appearance of Jake at the bathroom door looking as upset as I was came as a surprise. As I got out of the warming spray he came over and hugged me tightly, he also had tears in his eyes and said that we’d all miss Kenny. It was then that I understood that Kenny had made a huge impression on all the family. It wasn’t only me that was depressed it was everyone. It was everyone who knew him yet it was me who he’d made his best friend. It was me who was special to him and I’m sure if he’d had a choice, he would have chosen Oakland… and me.
I wondered into the kitchen and saw that mum was re-reading my ‘A+’ report on our trip to the capital. She had tears in her eyes as well and she quoted my last lines out loud.
The capital may have dinosaurs, monuments, large buildings, big business and huge shopping centers but it doesn’t have what Oakland has… my school, my heart and my best friend.
Meanwhile, as the Hudson family huddled to comfort each other the secretary at a famous boarding school in Edinburgh had just finished sending out the letter of rejection and acceptance of the new crop of hopefuls to be admitted into its hallowed halls. Of the forty-five applicants only twenty would be accepted… the You’ve Got Mail sign pinged on computers around the world informing the successful. Meanwhile, those who didn’t make the list would receive their rejection a little later…
This story is written by Les Lea
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