Read Dream Boy for Free Online Page A

ma'am, and bursts into the yard. Roy
awaits beyond the hedge. The two boys run side by side through the apple orchard.
    The
rhythm of running carries them a long way, beyond the meadow. They crash
through underbrush but make no other sound. Leaves strike the skin of Nathan's
arms, stinging and caressing. Roy leads him west of the pond and cemetery; he
lopes deeper into the woods, glancing back to make sure Nathan is keeping up.
Roy laughs at the glory of motion, a bright, incomprehensible sound that echoes
through the woodland. He leaps across a narrow stream where drooping ferns make
elegant green arches, and Nathan follows, light, running as if he will never
tire.
    The
forest is something other than a neighbor now, it becomes a new world. As the
density of growth increases, the pace of their running slows. Soon it is easier
to walk than to run, and Nathan draws abreast of Roy. Roy gives a look that
instructs, that says he is pleased. The Indian mound is pretty close once they
cross the creek, he says.
    The
land is rising. Nathan climbs past bent saplings and red leafed dogwood; Roy
has run up the hill a little faster than Nathan and pauses, breathless.
    The
forest thins and light spills into the lower tiers of growth. Beyond a glade of
trees, on a flat of land, a long mound rises. Only green grass grows on the
mound, as if all other kinds of plants have been magically forbidden. Golden
sunlight tumbles along the gentle slope.
    Roy
hangs his shirt from his belt loops. When Nathan does not follow suit of his
own volition, Roy reaches for his shirt buttons.
    The
air, Roy's hands, light spilling down. Roy offers Nathan the shirt, tenderness
in his expression, then runs down the long slope. Nathan threads the sleeves
through the belt loops of his pants and follows. Roy vanishes momentarily, but
Nathan, heart pounding from the run, finds him. Roy is a strong silhouette
against the bright mound, walking toward it. Nathan overtakes him halfway up
the mound.
    Nathan
draws near shyly and Roy refuses to turn. Roy's back muscles shift in a rhythm
that seems strong and good. The warm brown skin invites Nathan's hands, but he
refuses to reach. They are still climbing. A curious fact, Roy's breath labors
more than Nathan's. When on the crest of the mound Roy turns, his ribs are
beating open and closed like wings.
    Nathan
lays his hand against the pounding in the cleft of Roy's chest
    Roy
watches his hand, watches Nathan.
    Their
two fleshes are bright together, the two boys, warm like the colors of the late
sky. The sun still has some descending to do, and they watch it and the clouds
for a while. Roy settles along the ground, spreading out his shirt, and Nathan
does the same. Soon they are layered against each other. Roy says the movement
of the treetops is like the ocean. Nathan knows nothing about the ocean; he
listens to the murmuring of Roy's insides, the ferocious heartbeat that shakes
through them both. Roy is murmuring in Nathan's ear, a hymn from church,
“There is a place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God.” Nathan
sings too, kissing Roy's soft throat, his collarbones, the underside of his
chin. He can smell Roy's body, he can taste it with the tip of his tongue. Roy
grips the back of Nathan's head as if afraid he will escape. He need not worry.
Nathan knows the nakedness Roy wants, and soon achieves it. Roy arches with his
body toward Nathan, a curve of yearning. He lies bare in the grass with a look
on his face as if Nathan is making him sing through every cell.
    They he
still while the sun settles into the green bath of leaves. Roy says nothing but
Nathan can feel how his spirit darkens. The banded sky begins to drain of color
as they dress. Roy stands with his hands in his pockets. He calls,
“Nathan,” in a strangled voice and Nathan walks close; he brings
Nathan's ear to his mouth and says, “Please don't say anything about this
to anybody. Okay? Please.”
    “I
won't.” For a moment, just a little, Nathan is