Do You Remember the First Time?

things?’
    ‘Yeah,’ I said.
    ‘Oh, I never listen to those anyway. Listen, we need help. And I think … well, I think you might be the only one who can understand.’
    Fantastic. What was this, some kid was late filing his tax return?
    ‘What is it?’ I said
    ‘You’d better come in,’ said Justin. I walked in. This was the room at the back of the house that used to be Clelland’s. In his day it was covered in Sisters of Mercy posters, with shelves lined with dog-eared orange Penguin originals and a black-and-white-striped duvet, and small pieces of crucifixion jewellery hanging around. Now there was a bright green iMac, a basketball hoop, several pairs of trainers lying around and a rather smart Paul Smith striped duvet. The room had clearly been tidied up specially for the occasion. I wondered who Justin had his eye on as the lucky lady who was going to share his bed at his party.
    At any rate that was immaterial at the moment, because sitting on the bed crying his eyes out was Ethan.
    ‘You’ve come out,’ I said immediately.
    Ethan and Justin looked at each other dumbfounded.
    ‘I told you people would understand,’ said Justin eventually.
    Ethan sniffed and eyed me suspiciously. ‘Why were you writing me all that love poetry then if you knew?’
    ‘Often gay people are more sensitive and love the poetic arts,’ I said on the spur of the moment. ‘Of course, that’s a terrible overgeneralisation. You can be whatever you want to be.’
    I seemed to be handling this about as well as the Mmkay guidance counsellor on South Park .
    ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I promise it really doesn’t matter.’
    ‘Scared the life out of him,’ said Ethan sullenly.
    ‘Hey, man, it was a shock, OK?’ Justin looked guilty.
    ‘Justin, if you go through life thinking every gay man you meet is going to fancy you, you’re going to be pretty bored,’ I said. ‘Now, are you going to tell your parents?’
    Ethan shook his head. ‘What’s the point?’
    I nodded. ‘I think,’ I said, ‘you shouldn’t tell anyone until you’re a bit older.’
    Justin raised his eyebrows.
    ‘They’ll all know,’ wailed Ethan.
    ‘Well, that’s OK. Here’s the thing. School is notoriously homophobic, right?’
    He nodded.
    ‘But you’re going to university, right?’
    He nodded again.
    ‘Next year?’
    ‘Uh-huh.’
    ‘I’d keep shtoom until then. People at university – they love gay people. There’ll be competitions to see who can be your best friend.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Absolutely. Being gay at university is very, very fashionable.’
    ‘That can’t be true,’ said Justin.
    ‘It’s true.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘Oh, everyone knows,’ I said with the kind of bored sigh guaranteed to buy the instant agreement of a teenager who’s afraid of seeming as if he doesn’t know very much.
    ‘But, you know, I’ve accepted my true nature.’
    ‘You can accept all those kickings too,’ I said. ‘I’m just telling you what I’d do under the circumstances. And tell your parents just before you go to college – maybe as you’re walking out the door – otherwise they’ll be convinced it’s just some kind of a phase.’
    Ethan was nodding. ‘It’s going to be really hard.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘You’ll have a great time. Just be careful.’
    ‘I’m really scared of … you know, doing it and stuff.’
    ‘We all are,’ I assured him. ‘Doesn’t matter whether you’re going for the doughnut or the pork sword.’
    They stared at me.
    ‘And now I’d like to apologise for that disgusting analogy.’
    Justin smiled.
    ‘Well, I’d better get downstairs and back into my double life,’ said Ethan with a big sigh. He wiped off his tears in the mirror and reapplied his mascara.
    ‘You’re going to be just fine,’ I said, patting him on the back.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Justin.
    I followed the boys downstairs to the kitchen. Fallon was holding court by the fridge.
    ‘Ooh, Ethan,’ she cooed when she saw him, ‘come stand by me, baby. I want to feed you some fruit.’
    He did, and she fussed and patted round him.
    ‘Ooh, don’t stop, darling,’ he said.
    I wandered into the back garden, to stop myself accidentally kicking her in the tits. Was I old enough to get done for GBH?
    The air was heavy with woodsmoke, the residue of a bonfire set up there earlier, which was still crackling away.Boys were dancing around it at the far end of the garden, swigging heavily from enormous two-litre