PZA: Sander 1-3

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After over five years of working for Shinku, a Japanese firm producing climate control systems with a factory here in Belgium, I finally saved up enough money to by myself a small house. It's only small house, but it meets with my needs. I'm single and I don't need much space, except to store my collection of cd's and dvd's. That's where the second, smaller bedroom of the house comes in handy. Furthermore, there's a cosy living room, with a lounge that sits a bit higher than the diner, a nice, tidy kitchen that has just been refurnished and a bathroom with a shower. The house stands on the corner of the street and the garage where my car will sleep at night is around the corner. In between there's a small courtyard that can take a table and two chairs to enjoy the few hot summer days this country has outside. No real garden to maintain, which I don't like doing anyway.

The past few weeks I've been spending the weekends redecorating the place. All it really needed was a fresh coat of paint to cover up the old-fashioned wallpaper the elderly couple had left behind and some new IKEA furniture I put together with the help of my older brother. There's a few spare screws on the dining room table as proof of that. Today, it's time to fill up the kitchen cabinets with cutlery and to move the last bits of my stuff into the house. Nothing too heavy, so I will pretty much manage on my own, even if it takes me all weekend.

Thus I found myself this Saturday afternoon, a few weeks before Easter, carrying loads of cd's, dvd's and books, stuffed in whatever plastic or cardboard box I could find, into the house and up to the second bedroom. Putting everything in racks would be something for either the day after or the following weekend, depending on how long I'd need to get everything moved in. Luckily I'd been able to rent a small van from someone at work, spacious enough to only need one ride from my parents' home to my place. Not that the distance was that big, but I wanted to avoid driving back and forth as much as possible. The weather for early spring was pretty nice, a welcome change from the many days of rain and showers we'd had recently. The temperature was pleasant and the sun was shining brightly. The perfect day to finish moving into my precious little home. Until…

I was picking the umpteenth box of cd's out of the van and turned towards the gate when I heard a panicking voice call out to me.

Of course the warning came much to late. By the time I knew from where the shoo came, someone bumped into in a pretty high speed, causing me to drop the box. As the cd's scattered all over the pavement, I barely managed to keep to my feet. The initial shock slowly faded when I saw whoever had collided with me lose his balance and crash land on the concrete tiles. My first reaction was to inspect the damage to the box I'd dropped and the cd's that had flung out of it. The cardboard of the box, which hadn't been to strong to begin with, had torn apart at the bottom, making the number of disks spread and out their cases quite substantial. Anger slowly built up inside me and the person who'd hit me was about to be introduced to my dark side. With steam coming out of my ears, I turned to the culprit, ready to send his ass to kingdom come. But that never happened.

My anger must have shown brightly to the one who'd knocked the box out of my hands, because the eyes staring back at me were full of fright, the corners filling up with tears. Normally I wouldn't have cared one bit about that, but when I saw that those watery eyes belonged to the most beautiful boy I'd met, my heart soon melted and the storm raging inside me blew away faster than last week's rainclouds. I sighed deeply to get the anger out of my system and replaced it with sympathy.

I took a quick moment to examine the boy's situation. Besides being afraid of how I'd react to his crashing into me, I noticed the rollerblades on his feet, explaining the speed he'd hit me with and why he hadn't been able to avoid the collision. I realized that the combination of that speed and the impact with the concrete pavement might have caused some injury, as well, but the fear for my reaction seemed to be overpower any sense of pain he might feel. So, my first priority was to put the boy's mind at ease.

"My knee's a bit sore, but it's not too bad," he told me, rubbing his knee. He then looked down to observe the mess my cd's were in. "Sorry about that," he apologized, pointing at the heap in front of me.

I briefly looked down where he pointed and sighed, knowing it would take me a while to clean up, hopefully without finding too many of the disks damaged. I looked back to where the kid was sitting and shrugged. "Accidents happen, buddy," I said, trying to ease his worries. "I'm glad you didn't get hurt too badly."

The boy seemed to relax a bit. He wiped his tears away with his sleeve and reached down to his feet. He unlaced his blades, took them off and slowly got up on his sock clad feet. "I was afraid you would get mad at me," he confessed as he stood in front of me, holding his blades.

"I was, at first," I admitted. "But I didn't know who'd hit me, yet. For some reason, seeing you sitting down there, my anger went away right away."

"I could tell you were a bit afraid of me, as if I was about to eat you alive," I explained. "But I could also tell you weren't a bad kid, so I became concerned with how you felt, so I calmed down pretty quickly. Besides, I don't want to move into the neighborhood and develop a reputation of being a jerk."

The child smiled at my last remark and then said: "I don't think you're a jerk."

"Yep," the boy nodded, his fears already forgotten. He then looked down again for a second and then turned back to me. "I'll be right back," he then said and turned around, darting off before I could ask what he intended to do.

The kid was around the corner in a split second, leaving me with the next problem at hand. I kneeled down and started picking up the cd's. Luckily, only a few of the cases had come open and the disks that had gotten out weren't damaged too badly. The biggest problem was the cardboard box that was completely ruined. That meant I would have to go inside, empty one of the boxes I'd already carried upstairs and coming back to gather these ones. But I didn't want to leave the cd's in front of me unguarded. I got back up on my feet, trying to come up with a solution. Just as I was about to put the cd's into the van, I heard footsteps coming from around the corner. I looked up into the direction of the sound and found the boy sprinting towards me, now wearing a pair of worn down sneakers and carrying a couple of cardboard boxes in his hands.

"Here," he said, dropping the boxes next to the heap of cd's. "You can put them in these."

"It's pretty much my fault you dropped them," he said. "So I had to help you out."

Surprising me once more, the kid than kneeled down and started picking up the cd's and put them inside the boxes. I was about to tell him he needn't do that, but the assistance was welcome. On top of that, the assistance came from a very nice young boy who I was starting to like more and more. Even if it would only be for a short period of time, I was going to enjoy having the kid near me. When all of the cd's that had dropped were put into the boxes, we both got back up on our feet. I was about to thank the kid for his help when he stooped down to pick up one of the boxes.

"Errr… upstairs," I answered. "But you don't have to do that. You already helped me more than enough."

"But I want to," he said. "I don't really have anything else to do, anyway. Unless you don't want me to come inside."

How could I refuse? I'd be an idiot if I declined the boy's offer to help me carry the cd's inside. Maybe the extra bit of time together would allow me to get to know him a bit better. Besides, it didn't seem as if the boy would take no for an answer.

And with the kid tailing me I walked through the garage, across the courtyard, through the kitchen and the living room, up the stairs and into the second bedroom where the rest of my stuff were sitting in boxes on the floor.

"Wow, you sure got a lot," he whistled as he briefly looked around and then put the box down. "Aren't you putting them in their racks?"

"Uhuh," the boy simply nodded and then walked out of the room. "Better go get the rest, huh."

"Yes sir," I chuckled. Apparently, the boy had his mind set on helping me all the way. I was not complaining.

The next couple of hours, both the boy and me went back and forth between the van and the second bedroom. We quickly forgot about our unfortunate collision earlier and started talking about this and that. Along the way, I got to know a couple of things about him.

Sander. That was the boy's name. Sander was nine years old and would turn ten during the summer. He lived with his grandmother Annie only a few hundred yards from my place, which explained why he'd made it back with the boxes so fast. His parents had died in a terrible car crash when he was only two, so he barely remembered them. His grandmother, who was still only in her late 50's, was a third grade teacher at the local school.

Although he seemed pretty quiet, Sander was a fan of all kinds of sports. He played football (soccer, as you Americanos call it), went swimming with one of the kids also living in the area and loved skating, as I already found out. He explained how he'd just come back from a makeshift skatepark the community had laid out not too far from where we lived. I'd actually seen that skatepark when I'd taken my bike out for a spin to explore my new neighborhood. As we carried my stuff up to the bedroom, he showed an interest in some of the movies I had. I made a mental note to invite him to join me for one of my movie nights, some day.

The time we spent moving my gear in also gave me the chance to study his looks. Sander was a handsome little kid, a tad bit shorter than your average nine year old, or so I thought. It's not like I know that many nine year old boys to compare him with. He had lovely blonde hair that came down halfway his neck and enveloped his face like a vail. It gave him an angelic appearance and I thought it was cute how he would brush a strand of hair away from his face every now and then. His eyes were a radiant shade of blue, not unlike topaz. They shone brightly in the sunlight and had a hypnotic effect on me whenever I dared look into them a bit longer. That effect was multiplied by the cheerful smile that often appeared on his lips, the sound of his typically boyish high voice and the occasional giggle that followed a humorous intervention.

The built of Sander's body was what you'd expect of a nine year old boy. I estimated him to be about 125 cm [4'1"] and close to 30 kg [65 lbs] which made him a slim, healthy looking kid, abundant with energy. Even though he only managed the lighter boxes, he did more than his share of the work. Dressed in a red and black track suit that he was slowly starting to grow out of, I could see only imagine what his overall well proportioned lithe body looked like. Only the snug fit of his pants showed me the outlines of what I thought to be quite a nice little butt. Of course I made sure I wasn't looking at that part of him too long, not wanting him to freak out.

It took us a little over an hour and a half to get everything inside. I was mostly grateful for Sander's help, because he'd saved me half the afternoon. Even though he'd started helping me to make up for crashing into me, I still thought he earned a little reward. After shutting the doors of the van and closing the gate to my garage, I invited the boy to sit down on the couch.

Inside the kitchen, I grabbed two glasses, a big bottle of Ice Tea and two small bags of salted crisps and carried them to the lounge where Sander was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. Not wanting to get too familiar with the boy, I sat down in a seat across the table and then poured both of us a glass of Ice Tea. I moved one of the bags of crisps towards Sander and handed him a glass of the soda.

I took a few swallows of my Ice Tea, too, and then sat back in my seat. "Won't your grandmother be wondering where you are," I asked Sander.

Putting down his glass he shook his head and said: "I told her about what happened and that I would be helping you. She said it was okay as long as I wasn't bugging you or anything."

"You weren't bugging me at all, Sander," I smiled. "Without your help, I'd probably wouldn't have finished before dinner. Now I've got some time left to chill before fixing me something to eat."

"I guess me riding into you wasn't that bad after all, huh," he grinned mischievously.

"Ha ha, I guess not," I laughed, adding wit to his qualities. "How's your knee, by the way."

"It's okay," he said as he rolled up the leg of his pants to inspect his injury. "It doesn't really hurt much, just stings a bit."

I looked down at his knee, seeing it was a bit reddish. "It doesn't look too bad," I said as I inspected the minor wound. Just make sure to ask your grandmother to clean it a bit when you get home so it won't get infected. I'd do it myself, but I haven't got a first aid kit yet."

"I will," he nodded and let the leg of his pants fall back down. He then finished his drink and put his glass down, announcing: "I'd better go home, now."

"Okay, Sander," I said, trying not to show my disappointment. I would have loved the boy to stay a bit longer. "Thanks again for the help."

"Let me show you out," I said. I got up as well and handed him one of the bags of crisps. "Takes these home with you, but don't go spoil your dinner."

He took the bag and thanked me, telling me he'd save him for the evening. I let him lead the way as I escorted him out through the front door. As he stepped out he turned around to say goodbye and then took me completely of guard by giving me a quick hug. Before I knew what came over me, he'd let go and was on his way home, waving as he trotted off. I waved back and stood there flabbergasted, wondering about what just happened. I shook my head in disbelief and drew back inside, shutting the door and going back to the lounge. As I sat down on the couch, I sighed deeply, feeling happy and sad at the same time. Happy because I'd just discovered the most wonderful little fellow lived nearby and sad because the chance of spending more time with him and getting to know him better was probably inexistent. Some of Sander's energy still lingered in my new house and overall, I felt as if I'd just had the best day in my entire life.

A bit later I went upstairs again to check on the stuff we'd carried into the spare bedroom. In my mind I tried to figure out where to store everything, often wishing I'd have Sander beside me to assist me. Not because the work at hand was so tough, but because I'd really enjoyed his company. I let that thought slip out of my mind, thinking I was only fooling myself and decided to take a quick shower.

After my refreshing shower, I started making plans to head out and grab a pizza for dinner (no home delivery here). Even with Sander's help, I was not really in the mood to prepare my own meal after those hours of hard labour. I got dressed in a plain pair of jeans, a shirt and a sweater, put on socks and shoes and grabbed my wallet. I was about to grab my jacket and to head out through the back when the doorbell rang. I wasn't really expecting anyone, mostly because besides my parents, the people from work sending my paycheck and since this afternoon, Sander, no one knew I lived there. So, I was guessing Jehovah's Witnesses and decided to ignore whoever was ringing my bell.

But then I heard the clank of my mailbox, which caught my attention. I turned around and saw a yellow note lying on the rug by the door. I picked up the note and immediately forgot about the pizza.

Now there's an invitation I can't refuse. What kind of a neighbor would I be to decline such a kind offer. Most of all, this was clearly Sander's idea and I would never think of disappointing him. I must have made quite an impression on the boy if he wanted to see me again so soon. What was maybe worse, he'd definitely left his mark while he was helping me earlier. From the second he'd left, after that brief hug, his angelic little face had spooked through my head. I could pretty much still here his boyish giggles resonating in my ears and once or twice I even caught myself wondering what he would look like underneath his tracksuit. That last bit worried me greatly, even if it wasn't the first time I'd thought of young boys in that matter. This time was different, however, because I actually got to know the boy and the guilt about my increasing attraction towards him was starting to cloud my mind.

There was still some time left before I was expected for dinner. I did my very best to look clean and sharp, so I could make a good impression on Sander's grandmother. A friendship between Sander and me could only grow closer and stronger if she approved of me being her grandson's friend. I think of myself as an easygoing guy, but everyone knows relationships between adults and young children that aren't related are heavily frowned upon… exactly because of that looming attraction towards Sander. Still, my curiosity as to how far this thing could carry was powerful enough to not let this unique chance slip out of my hands.

I suppose this is as good a time as any to introduce myself a bit. My name's Robert, I'm 33 years old and as I stated earlier, I just bought this little house, finally moving out of my parents' house. Not that I really had to move out, but the bedroom I spent most of time in had just become way too small and there was no room for expansion. As you know, I have quite a nice collection of cd's and dvd's that's still growing and I was out of space to store the newest acquisitions. The job as a secretary at the climate control systems factory was pretty simple. Most of my work existed in typing out meeting reports and stuff like that. It was a fairly interesting job and I did pay attention to whatever they said during those meetings. The department I worked for was in direct contact with the mother company back in Kyoto, Japan. The rumors were that they were planning to set up a new plant in Australia. I didn't know if that would have any effect on us, since we were only one of their offshore departments.

How do I look? Like thirteen in a dozen, I suppose. Glasses, dark brown hair that's usually a bit messy because I always let it grow to long before even thinking about a visit to the hairdresser and slightly overweight. I don't think of myself as attractive or anything, just plain and fairly uninteresting. You'd only spot me in a crowd if I'd wear a bright orange vest, which I won't. Apart from music and films, I don't really have hobbies, although I just picked up on hiking. I think me not seeing too many people outside of the office made the interaction with Sander earlier extra special. Of course, if anyone besides Sander had been lying sprawled on the pavement after skating into me, I would have called him everything under the sun and then demanded some financial compensation for the non existing damage to the cd's that I had dropped and there would have been no pleasant afternoon. I think I'd still be going back and forth with boxes right now.

Now, as you've already understood, I like boys. Whenever I go shopping to expand my collection or if I need new clothes, I pretty much spot every small boy that crosses my path and with quite a few I turn around to make sure my eyes didn't fool me. During the rather wet and cold winter, not much of the kids can be seen, except there usually blushing cheeks in between woolen scarfs and hats, but even that makes them look adorable. Most of the times when I return home, I already forgot about them, unless I was granted and better view of the boy's features. Spring and especially summer were a lot more interesting, when scarfs and thick coats make way for t-shirts and shorts and hats no longer hide their little faces. Then it's the little blond heads that capture most of attention, but I'll never ignore a boy because his hair is of a different color. The only thing that turns me off in boys is big bellies and large butts… Even if it's a medical condition, overweight in children is never attractive.

That's as far as my attraction goes. With the very unforgiving society towards people like me, I shy away from any form digitalized nudity (unless it's part of the movies I own… I can't help it if the makers of the films think showing the boys undressed is vital for the story). A picture or a video of a naked boy in a dishonorable position isn't worth jail time. My freedom is sacred, especially if I want to make something out of my life. My only sin is reading stories about that same naked boy in that same dishonorable position, although I prefer to use my own imagination in time of… need. With today's events, things will become a bit more complicated, because now there's a walking, talking version of that boy in the stories and dreams. I do pray that I will have a strong enough will to separate fiction from reality. Even thinking about Sander that way seems disrespectful, criminal even. It's beyond saying that no matter what happens from this point onwards, I will be tested to my very limits, and I hope I can pass the test with flying colors.

Before heading out, I splashed my face a couple of times with cold water to wipe out all the thoughts currently going through my head. I then grabbed my jacket and headed out. I remembered Sander coming from the left when returning with the cardboard boxes, so I headed that way and looked up at the house numbers to find number 135, which was on the other side of the road. Only three minutes later, I found my destination. As I stood in front of the door, I inhaled deeply, not believing how nervous I actually was for something as trivial as a neighbor's friendly dinner invitation, and then rang the bell.

When the wooden door swung open, it was Annie who greeted me. I already knew she was a teacher and my first thought when seeing her was that she kinda looked the part. She was about foot [30 cm] shorter than I was, with curly brown (dyed?) hair and glasses that made her look pretty strict. She was dressed in a purple woolen sweater and a skirt that added to the teacher's appearance.

"You must be Robert," she greeted me in a voice that was warmer and more welcoming that I'd expected.

"Thank you, Misses, errr… I didn't quite get your name," I accepted the invitation.

"Just call me Annie, Robert," she smiled as she pointed me to the living room. "I believe neighbors should go on first name bases, don't you agree."

"Absolutely," I smiled politely. I started to see where Sander had gotten his good manners from.

Annie then escorted me their lounge room where she invited me to take off my jacket and to sit down. I looked around, finding myself in a cosy living room and pretty quickly I spotted some of Sander's comic books on the table in front of me. One of them was lying upside down, opened at the page where Sander had interrupted his reading. Annie took my jacket from me to hang it up in the hallway and offered me a glass of wine, which I gladly accepted.

"Sander's upstairs taking a bath," she told me as she served the drinks. Oddly I hadn't mentioned the boy and although she was not mistaken, it was a bit awkward that she would assume I was there because of her grandson. I was starting to wonder what Sander had told about me and how he'd persuaded his grandmother to make dinner for one more.

"That, and I've been a teacher long enough to know there's very few boys who don't get dirty, every now and then," the kind woman smiled. "I hope he didn't bother you today."

"He felt really bad about the accident, when he came in here this afternoon," Annie told me. "He was dead set on making up for it."

"The boxes he let me borrow would have been enough to do that," I nodded. "Instead he saved me half an afternoon of work by helping me unload the van. I still think I'm the one who's in debt with him."

"Well, you're here accepting his offer to have dinner with us, so that should settle things between you two," Annie happily accepted my appraisal for her grandson.

At that very moment, Sander walked into the room. He'd combed his still damp hair backward, granting my eyes full access to his handsome face. The warm light from the big chandelier above the dining table and the remaining wetness gave his hair a golden touch, which looked almost divine. With the pupils in his a bit larger, rendering the blue in his eyes a shade darker, almost like sapphires. When he saw me, they twinkled with joy as a broad smile appeared on his lips.

"You did, huh?" I smiled, just as happy to see him again. "I would have been a fool if I let the chance of a free dinner slip."

Flash!! There was that smile again. Cheerfully, he hopped over to where I was sitting and flopped down right next to me, with not an inch between us. "We're having mac and cheese," he let me know.

"One of my favorites," I said. For theatrical effect, I sniffed up the air and then turned back to the boy. "Smells delicious!"

"Flattering the cook and you haven't even tasted it," Annie laughed as she stood up, appreciating the compliment. "Dinner should be ready in just a minute. Why don't you go take a seat."

"Cool!" Sander said anxiously, heading for the dinner table. He pulled one chair back and then sat down on another. "Come sit next to me," he smiled invitingly, beckoning me to the chair he'd pulled back.

"Sure thing, buddy," I accepted as I sat down next to him. Well, not quite next to him, because I sat at another side of the corner, but close to him. Close enough for his knees to touch my legs.

It was only then, while Annie was finishing up on our dinner, that I dared look at the boy a bit more closely. It was only then, while Annie was finishing up on our dinner, that I dared look at the boy a bit more closely. His hair was becoming drier and was losing it's fight with gravity as it fell back down around his face, transforming him back into the boy I'd met earlier. The reflex of brushing a strand back behind his little ears returned quickly.

Straight out of the bathtub, Sander'd wrapped himself in a comfy looking burgundy fleece bathrobe, with the ribbon tied in a big knot across his belly. On his feet he was wearing a pair of fluffy slippers that simply looked adorable. When he'd entered the room, I'd noticed his bare knees and calves sticking out from below the bathrobe, which made me wonder what exactly he was wearing underneath it. For a minute my imagination ran wild, thinking the bathrobe and the slippers were the only attire Sander was wearing. That was stilly, of course, but not impossible. I hoped for the boy that he wasn't naked underneath, because I know from experience that no matter how tightly you tie the ribbon, a bathrobe never stays in place for too long, which would result in Sander revealing more than he wants to. That might become quite embarrassing for the little munchkin and I don't think Annie would approve either.

While we waited for Annie to join us for dinner, Sander and I started chatting a bit. The topic of him playing football came up and I let him tell all about that. It was obvious that he loved the game and he was friends with most of the kids he played with. At his age, there are no standings, so there's no champion at the end of the season, but they do have weekly matches to play, both home and away. It was only when I asked about those matches that he seemed a bit sad. I was about to ask if something was bugging him when Annie put a steaming hot pot of mac and cheese on the table. The delicious smell and hunger shoved the conversation to the background, leaving it for a future moment. Still, it bothered me a bit that Sander had turned so quiet when playing matches came up.

Annie scooped our plates full with the yummy looking macaroni, threads of cheese hanging from the wooden spoon, making both Sander's and my mouth water. The kind woman made sure neither of us would get hungry, making sure to fill our plates to the rim. Before she could serve herself and sit down, Sander was already wolfing down his pile of the Italian delicacy. I waited until Annie could start herself and then followed the hungry boy's example, trying to look less like a little piggy.

Our stomachs slowly filled and small talk rolled over the table in between bites. Mostly, it was Sander doing the talking and I listened closely to his every words, no matter how trivial the topic was. I would ask a question now and then, showing him I was genuinely interested in whatever he had to say. Annie remained silent during most of our meal, adding a few remarks of her own every now and then. I almost felt guilty to exclude her from our chats, but she seemed happy to just sit in on our conversations. That happiness only appeared bigger when she saw how much Sander enjoyed this dinner party, something that didn't go unnoticed with me either. I was most amazed at how quickly and how easily I was growing found of the little chatterbox and I strongly believed he felt it.

We sat at the table for about half an hour and let the food digest a little. For a young, energetic kid, Sander managed to sit still (besides the usual shuffling and fidgeting) for quite a long time. Annie then got up and started collecting the empty plates and the used cutlery.

"Do want any help with that?" I asked, wanting to show my gratitude for the wonderful dinner.

"Hey, do you want to play a game?" Sander then suggested, knowing we would have the table to ourselves.

Quick as lightening, Sander got up and only a split second later I heard his little feet pounding up the stairs. Having heard her grandson challenging me to a game, she came and cleared the table for us. The boy returned only two minutes later with the game. He deftly set it up between us, letting me chose my pawn. He then climbed back onto his chair, deciding to sit on his knees so he could reach the board easier.

'Snakes and Ladders' turned out to be a good idea. Playing the game, which I hadn't played since my own childhood, with Sander made it the best fun I'd had in a long time. The boy really put his mind to it, displaying every emotion between the excitement of victory and the disappointment of defeat on his precious little face. The constant smile on his lips, forming dimples in his cheeks, told me he enjoyed it just as much as I did. Annie had put a bowl of peanuts on the table for us which mostly disappeared between the boy's teeth.

During the game we continued talking about whatever came to our mind. He told a few jokes he knew from school, which were usually not all that funny, but his laughter was catching enough for me to laugh along with him. Football came up again, this time about why his favorite team was the best (and mine was not), the tv shows he liked were discussed and he inquired about the movies I had. The entire night my eyes seemed to be glued to his handsome face. The look of an angel was even enhanced when Annie switched of the light from the chandelier and turned on a couple of smaller lampshades, allowing us enough light to play the game and making the boy almost glow in the dark.

Every now and then I would steal a glance downward, and true to it's nature, Sander's fleece bathrobe had opened up a little, due to the boy's constant moving around to throw the die and move his pawn. It was only a couple of inches, and even though the dim light coming from the lamps shaded most of what was underneath, I could clearly make out the smoothness of what could only be Sander's naked skin. Obviously, this meant my young host wasn't wearing his pajamas underneath the robe, which I had pretty much guessed when I'd seen his bare knees.

Luckily for both Sander and me, I could only see the boy from his chest up, the table concealing the rest of him, so I could guess that the lack of pajamas also meant no underwear. The discovery of his bare skin appearing between the flaps of his robe was intriguing but dangerous. My imagination started running wild a bit and I didn't want that. I wanted to continue enjoying Sander's company without making things complicated. So, I made myself focus back on the game and keep the stolen peeks between the slightly opened sides of his bathrobe to a strict minimum. That was easier said than done with a boy as handsome as Sander, but I definitely didn't want to jeopardize our nascent friendship by showing too much interest in his body. It was the sound of his voice that kept my attention to the game and to the boy's presence.

The evening went by way too quickly. Sander had just beaten me in the game for the third time in a row when Annie called his name.

"It's past your bedtime, sweetie," Sander's grandmother said softly as she approached the table.

Of course I was sad to know I'd be saying goodnight to the little darling soon, but I had to try and get on Annie's good side if I wanted to add a few points in my favor.

"It's nice of you to want to give me another chance to win a game, Sander," I said as I smiled at him. "But those snakes have developed a hunger for my little pawn, so I'm gonna have to forfeit."

"Do you mean you want to come back?" Sander asked, checking if he'd understood my hint.

"Uhuh, yeah, I do," he nodded happily. "Can he come back, grannie? Huh? Can he?" the boy then begged his grandmother.

"We'll see," she just said, but I knew she meant yes by her loving smile. "But only if you're a good boy and go to bed right now."

"I will," the youngster obeyed as he hopped of his chair. Then he came standing right next to me, leaned forward a bit and planted a big wet kiss on my cheek. "Goodnight, Robert," he said in his sweetest voice. "It was fun!"

"I had a great time, too, Sander," I told him as I reached out and caressed his arm. "Sweet dreams, ey, buddy."

Annie then kneeled down in front of her grandson. She must have noticed his robe coming loose and quickly pulled the flaps back in place before kissing him on his forehead and wishing him goodnight. Sander had looked down while his grannie tidied up his bathrobe and giggled silently when he understood what had happened. It was only then that I realized I hadn't even paid any attention to that anymore. The loving way the boy had wished me goodnight and his explicit request for me to come back another time had meant so much to me that it completely overpowered my curiosity about what he was wearing underneath his bathrobe. In a way, that set my mind at rest a bit, knowing that what I felt for the little boy was a lot more than plain attraction, as I'd had for quite a score of kids I'd spotted in the street. If that was possible, maybe a friendship could exist between us without letting my attraction towards him complicating things too much.

Grandmother and grandson said their goodnights and Annie sent her apple of the eye off to bed with a playful pat on his little butt. Giggling cheerfully, the boy exited the room to go to bed. Annie then invited me to sit down on the couch and offered me nightcap in the form of another glass of the wine. I gladly accepted. She then went upstairs to tuck Sander in and returned five minutes later, joining me in the lounge where the two of us got a chance to get acquainted.

We then talked about each others jobs. Mine seemed boring compared to her long life as a teacher. The anecdotes she told about some kids in her class were really funny and proved over and over how amazing young children can be. And even though she complained about the growing workload and stress a bit, she loved teaching and wouldn't think of doing anything else. I kinda envied her, even though I was fairly happy with my own job. Of course it didn't take too long before we started talking about Sander. It was Annie who brought him up.

"So, Robert," she said, turning rather serious. "What are your intentions with my grandson?"

I had to swallow hard when I heard her question. 'Intentions' made it sound as if I was up to no good, which was never the case.

"I'm not sure yet," I tried carefully. "I took quite a liking to him, today, I'll admit that."

"That's obvious," Annie smiled. "And clearly, he did too. I never heard him talk as much as he did tonight."

"Not at all," Annie said. "He's usually pretty quiet. It's all because you took the time to listen and paid attention to him."

"It's the least I could do," I shrugged. "Playing that game with him and talking with him was relaxing to me. I really had fun with him, tonight. But that doesn't mean I have any real plans with him, or anything."

"I see," the woman nodded. "When I asked about your intentions, I probably gave the impression that I thought you had a second agenda with Sander."

"A bit," I admitted. "I can imagine it might seem weird for a grownup to take an interest in a young boy like Sander. I read the newspapers too."

"I can't help but worry," Annie said. "Sander's all I have and I don't want to see him hurt."

"But I was talking to Sander when I was upstairs with him," Annie then said. "I think it's a bit early, but something he said made it clear that he wants to be friends with you."

"Well, it's a tad bit delicate to tell you," Annie answered. "But it was enough for me to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Meaning that I don't see a reason why you shouldn't be friends," Annie sighed. "Refusing Sander a good friend would hurt him just the same and well, a bit of male influence might be a good thing, too."

"I see," I nodded, trying hard not to seem to thrilled about the outcome. "And do you propose now?"

"You already know he plays football," Annie said. "I think he'd like it if you'd go and watch his next game."

"I've been thinking the same thing, actually," I admitted truefully. "But when Sander and I talked about football, he seemed to clam up a bit. Would you have any idea why? He definitely enjoys playing football, so I wondered if anything was wrong."

"You really did listen to him, didn't you?" she sighed, her worries about the subject clearly visible. "I don't know, really, but whenever I pick him up after a match, he always seems a bit down. That's been going on all year."

"No, never," she replied, shaking her head. "He tells me the final score, but that's all he ever tells me. I tried asking him about it, but he just shrugs and changes the subject. I can never make it to his matches because I tutor a few of my students, during the weekend, so I really don't know what's going on."

"Do you think he'll want me to go watch him play?" I wanted to know. "If he doesn't let you know if something's wrong, I don't think he'll want me to know either. We've only just met."

"Maybe not," Annie agreed. "But I'd still like to know what's bugging him. It's no good sending him to football practices and games if he doesn't like going."

"That's what's so awkward about it," I said. "I bet he would have asked to quit if he didn't like playing football anymore. When's his next game?"

"I was thinking, maybe I can make a surprise visit," I suggested. "Instead of driving him, just show up during the match. Maybe I'll find out from the sideline what his problem is, and talk to some of the other kids' parents or so."

"Look, I really do care about your grandson," I confessed. "If he wants me to be his friend, I better start acting like one. He might not be too thrilled if he sees me show up, but I want to be there for him whenever I can."

"Somehow I think you'd do it even if I asked you not to," Annie smiled gratefully. "Alright, I'll check his calendar tomorrow and then let you know the details. I've got the feeling Sander might even want you to be there."

"Okay, then," I nodded as I quickly glanced at the clock. "And now it's time for this boy to go home and hit the hay."

"Oh, right, look at the time," Annie smiled warmly. "Thank you for coming. You've made Sander a happy little boy and I've got the feeling we'll be seeing more of you, pretty soon."

"I can only hope so," I said. "It was a lovely evening and I thank you for your hospitality and your wonderful meal."

"Not a problem," the lady nodded as you escorted me to the door. "After all, it was all Sander's idea. He can be very convincing."

Annie then gave me a warm hug, explaining where Sander'd picked that habit up, and sent me off home. "See you some other time, Robert."

"Bye," I said as I waved at her. As I crossed the street, I looked up at one of the bedrooms and it might have been my imagination, but I think I saw one of the curtains move. Apparently Sander hadn't been asleep yet. I hope he hadn't been eavesdropping, because I didn't want him to know about the little plan for next week's football game.

A bit later I found myself lying in bed, playing the video of the day in my mind, from the moment Sander had crashed into me, to the wonderful dinner at his grandmother's house. Of course the slightly open bathrobe came into the picture as well and in my imagination it showed just a bit more than it had in reality. Happy to have found such a wonderful boy who'd declared to his grandmother that I was to be his friend, I quickly fell asleep. Dreams about Sander in his football outfit scoring the winning goal and celebrating his victory with me came fast and I never had a more pleasant night in my entire life.

Chapter 2
Pitch Fever

The week after that unforgettable Saturday went by rather quickly, or so it seemed. On Sunday, I stacked all my cd's, dvd's, books… in their designated spot, which took me most of the day. More often than not, I would wish for Sander to be there to help me. Not because I couldn't handle it by myself, but simple because it would have been more fun with him. I can just imagine him asking about this or that movie, or if he could listen to this or that song, and I would answer every question and happily play the tunes he wanted to hear. Maybe a day might come when Sander and I would be up in that second bedroom picking movies to watch or music to play while we would have a round of Risk or something… I know I shouldn't get my hopes up too high, but we'd started off nicely and somehow I believed some of my dreams might even come true.

The working week flashed forward quickly. Business was picking up, with the forthcoming, usually far from hot, summer, people and enterprises alike were installing new climate control systems to make sure they wouldn't break too much of a sweat. The rumors about the new plant in Australia spread like a fire and especially the big bosses were getting edgy. I still didn't understand why, since our plant was only another department of the Kyoto head office and I didn't think we'd be involved in the development of the Aussie factory. I wasn't high up the ladder enough to know details about the whole situation and I didn't pay too much attention to it, trying to do my job right. Still, I would listen carefully whenever my superiors would discuss the matter to learn more about it.

Friday night, after quite a busy working week, I went out for a quick bite. There was a family sitting at the table next to me, a young couple with three kids. The eldest of the kids was a boy about Sander's age, a rather cute looking boy at that. But unlike before, I didn't try and keep an eye on him as I would usually do when I encountered boys. Somehow, all I was thinking then was how much I longed to see Sander again. It was then that I knew I was totally smitten with my neighbor boy, even after only meeting him once. I realized quickly how hard it would become to not let my infatuation blur my common sense and my conscience. I had absolute no wish to jeopardize a possible close friendship with such a wonderful child, and risk ruining both our lives in the process. Sander had told his grandmother he'd wanted me to be his friend, and that's what I intended to be. Nothing less, but definitely nothing more.

When I was finishing up on my dinner, the young family already replaced by a bunch of rather annoying teenage girls, my phone rang. The display showed Annie's number. At first I didn't know why she would call, but then remembered she hadn't passed me the details for tomorrow's football match yet. I'd promised her I'd give Sander a surprise visit and to try and find out why the boy was always so glum when he returned from the games.

"How could I forget," I quickly answered. "I try not to make promises I don't intend to keep."

"Okay, then," she said. "I checked Sander's calendar and he's playing a home match, not an away match as I first thought."

"Errr… 9.15 in the morning," Annie informed me, probably with the calendar right by her side. "Sander has to be there by 8.30 for changing and warmups."

"I'll try and get there around kickoff time, then," I told her. "I hope he doesn't see me before the game begins. I don't want him to think I'm checking up on him, or something."

"He probably doesn't know you're suspecting something's wrong," Annie reassured me. "He thinks pretty highly of you, for some reason, so I think he'll be happy to see you there."

"I hope so," I sighed. "What do I do if something does turn out to be out of place?"

"That depends on the problem, I suppose," Annie pondered. "I'm gonna trust your judgment on this one."

"Are you sure?" I wanted to make sure. "I don't want to end up making things worse for your grandson."

"I think you underestimate yourself, there, Robert," Annie then said as if she already knew all about me. "The fact that you picked up on how Sander's emotional reactions when he talks about his football games so quickly tells me you're more clever than you think. And you obviously care about him, so I trust you to do whatever you think necessary."

"I wish I had your confidence, Annie," I sighed again, my worries only slightly eased. "Anyway, whatever happens, I'll give him a ride home after the match and then tell you all about it afterwards."

"That's perfect, Robert," Annie said. "I guess I'll be seeing around lunch tomorrow, then."

After hanging up, I got up and went home. I watched a bit of tv but couldn't help but think of what tomorrow's outcome would be. It was hard to predict what would happen and without knowing what the problem really was, if there was any at all, it was even worse to come up with a possible solution. At night in bed, I wasn't counting sheep, I was imagining all sorts of things that could happen, most of them ending with my new friend angry with me for messing things up and our friendship terminated before it even began. No, I did not have pleasant dreams that night.

So, when I woke up the next morning, it was with much less enthusiasm than I expected to have. My get up and go had clearly gotten up and gone. After all, I would be seeing Sander again. But the gloomy outcomes of my dreams had put made that event look a lot less thrilling than it should have been. The chance of ruining something beautiful and hurting the boy in the process were not good for my confidence in my capability to solve whatever issues there were at hand. Still, the boy's grandmother pretty much counted on me, if not for dealing with the matter, then at least for seeing him safely home.

The one thing that motivated me was the fact that Sander had told Annie that he wanted me to be his friend. If he did change his mind about that, at least I wanted it to be because of something I did wrong, not because I didn't have the heart to do anything about it and give him the idea that I couldn't care less. I did care. A lot. So, even if I couldn't help him, at least I wanted him to know that I was there for him, unconditionally.

About an hour later I found myself on the parking lot of the local sports stadium. I parked the car and started going in the main direction of the football fields. I was a few minutes early, but it took me a while to find where Sander's team was, so I'd missed the kickoff, but with the directions of the volunteers there, I quickly located the right field. It didn't take long for me to spot Sander. He was currently standing a few feet behind the sideline, hopping up and down a bit and waving his arms to stay warm, along with two of his teammates, waiting their turn to fall in for one of the kids in the game. I then found a bunch of people standing behind him and the others, rooting for their kids and the team they played for. I blended in with that crowd, suspecting them to be the parents of Sander's teammates.

I knew a tad bit of youth's football from a colleague at work. The Under 10s played two halves of twenty-five minutes, on one half of a football field and the teams were 8 players each. I was standing behind the substitutes but made sure to see everything of the game that I could, in the meanwhile keeping an eye on Sander. And it didn't take me long before I realized what the problem was.

I was there for fifteen minutes and had seen reserve players go on and off the field in an almost smooth rotation. But not Sander. Not once did his coach call his name, not one second had he been in the game, and after five minutes he'd given up on the hopping, sitting down on the grass, completely uninterested in how his team was doing (4-1 down and nowhere near able to fight their way back in the game). I didn't know Sander's qualities as a player, but in my mind I figured that everyone should get his chance to play. The worst thing was that I quickly got the feeling that it was deliberate. Still, I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so with a few more minutes of the first half left, I decided to make some friendly inquiries with one of the other kids' parents.

"Pardon me, sir," I carefully interrupted the man standing beside me. "Could you tell me who's playing?"

"Oh, of course," the man said, only briefly turning to me. "These are the Under 10's of Rood-Zwart Doomkerke against VC Schuiferskapelle."

"Yeah," he nodded. "They're doing their best, but as usual, without any success."

And now it was time to bring up the subject of one unhappy little substitute player. "Is their coach keeping his joker ready?" I asked, pointing at my poor little friend.

"You mean Sander, over there?" the man asked, sighing deeply. "That's the worst of it all. The past few years he was actually one of the better player. They usually won when he was playing."

"Then why isn't he putting him in the game?" I wanted to know, my suspicions starting to become true.

"Beats me," the man said, with a tune that actually sounded like genuine compassion for Sander. "Why are you asking?"

"Oh, sorry," I apologized, knowing I couldn't keep firing all these questions at him for no reason. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Robert, I'm a friend of the boy's grandmother, Annie."

"Aah, the kind teacher," the man smiled. "My son's in her class. She's his favorite teacher."

"Yeah, that's her," I smiled back. "She's tutoring some of her pupils this morning and asked me if I could pick him up after the game."

"Cool," the man said understandingly. "Make sure to join us at our table after the game."

"If things are as how you tell them to be, I might not be staying that long," I then said. "Has Sander been playing at all, this season?"

"I have missed a few of their matches," the man told me, "but I haven't seen him play during the ones that I was there. The kid's always there, though, rarely misses a practice, always showing up on time for matches."

"But you don't know why he doesn't get to play?" I asked. "Haven't you ever asked the coach about it?"

"Honestly, no, I haven't," the man confessed guiltily. "Some of the others might have."

"I see," I sighed deeply, knowing that watt I intended to do next was a big risk. "Well, Annie had told me Sander'd been a bit down lately, whenever he returned from a game. She asked me to try and find out. Thank you very much for telling me all this, I appreciate your honesty."

Right on time, the referee blew the whistle for half time. Apparently the kids stayed on the field during half time, since there was only a five minute break. When the coach didn't even bother calling Sander to join his teammates for a pep talk (the score now being 6-2), I knew I could not let this carry on any longer.

"Sander!" I shouted as I approached the boy, still sitting on the cold, humid grass, on the verge of catching a cold.

The boy immediately turned around. When he saw me, his face lit up like a flare and then immediately became sad again, seeing that I didn't look happy. "Hey, Robert!" he said a bit shakily, not knowing why I looked so pissed off. "What are you doing here?"

"I think you know why, Sander," I said, softening my voice and kneeling down to be level with him. "I came here to cheer you on and instead I have to find out your coach doesn't let you play. I'll have none of that."

"We'll talk about it when we get home, okay?" I suggested as I held his chin up.

"Okay," the boy gave in. Barely lifting his feet, he walked off the field in the general direction of the dressing rooms. Before going in he looked back, first at me, then at his teammates and then went inside.

"What's going on here?" I then heard a stern voice behind me say as I got back up. "Where did Sander go?"

I turned around and saw the coach standing before me. The man seemed to be about my age, a few inches shorter and a larger pants size. I'd already concluded that his leaving Sander at the sideline all season was deliberate, so I knew it would be hard to feel some sympathy for the man. Still, I had to make sure not to blow up my little friend's bridges, because I did not intend to rob him off his favorite pastime. So, I put up my most polite smile and offered my hand.

"Oh, sorry, sir," I tried to apologize. "I'm a friend of Annie, Sander's grandmother. She asked me to pick him up after the game."

"I'm sure she did, but that was only halftime," he said in a mockery tone, probably mistaking me for some fool who doesn't know the first thing about football.

"Oh, I know," I told him. "But Sander told me he wasn't feeling too well and he looked a bit feverish, so I thought it'd be better to take him home and make sure he doesn't get sick."

"Well, you know how boys are," I shrugged. "Always trying to look tough. Still, I can't take any chances. I wouldn't want Annie to blame me for keeping her grandson out in the cold when he should be sitting by the stove."

"I suppose," the coach said. "Tell Annie to let me know if he's going to make it to practice and the next game."

At that very moment, Sander joined us, carrying what looked to be a rather heavily packed sports bag. Coach was the first to spot him.

"Not feeling well, then, Sander?" he asked in a way that told he couldn't care less.

Sander glanced at me briefly, allowing me enough time to throw in a wink of the eye and then turned back to his coach. "My throat's a bit sore and I'm cold."

"We best get you home quickly, then," I said before the man could persuade the boy to stay.

"If you say so," Sander's coach, who I disliked more and more by the minute. "I'll be seeing you at practice, then."

"Come on then," I beckoned Sander to follow me as I turned to the coach one last time. "I'll tell Annie to give you a call in case he can't make it."

"Want me to take that," I offered, pointing at the boy's bag as we left the football pitch.

Sander just shrugged and handed me his bag. I escorted him to my car and had him sit in the front seat, making sure he buckled up. The fifteen minutes needed for the ride home happened in a deafening silence. Sander was sulking with his head against the window, I was desperately trying to find a way to bring the subject up. In the end I decided to wait for the comfort of his home, preferably with his grandmother backing me up… Unless of course she totally disagreed with what I had done. Still, deep inside, I believed getting Sander out of there had been the best option and I was bound to defend my actions.

Annie backing me up would not be an option, or so it turned out. When we got back at Sander's place, we found it tightly locked, with no key at hand. I suppose us being home earlier than usual had something to do with it.

"You best come with me, buddy," I told Sander. "I'll text your grandmother to tell her where you are so she can pick you up when she gets home."

"Okay," the boy sighed, looking at me with the saddest little eyes. At least he didn't seem angry with me, or so I hoped.

We drove the final few yards towards my home and out of habit, I parked the car into the garage. I invited him inside and carried his bag into the hallway where he could pick it up when his grandmother came for him. I showed him to the lounge where he dropped down on the couch, not bothering to take off his jacket. I knew he was at the verge of tears and I really hoped he would want to tell me his side of the story. That probably meant luring him out of his shell.

Sander looked up at me, hesitated a while and then slowly nodded, accepting the offer. I went into the kitchen and started working on his well earned hot drink. I always go about that the long way, melting chocolate 'au bain marie" as they call it, before adding fresh milk to it and a bit of vanilla and cinnamon for extra flavor. Usually I'd even add a bit of whipped cream, but I hadn't bought any yet.

It took me a while to get the Sander his hot chocolate, but that gave the boy some time to cool down and relax a bit. In the meantime, I texted his grandmother to let him know he was with me. I left out the incident at the club, thinking it'd be better to talk to Sander first, before letting Annie know what had happened. When I served Sander his drink and a couple of apricot jam cookies, his jacket was lying next to him on the couch and he'd even taken the liberty to kick off his shoes. At least the boy looked a bit more relaxed, but when he looked up at me to thank me for his snack, he was still in the same mood he'd been in during our ride home. I then sat right next to him, a whole set of opening lines running through my mind and then smiled at him.

"You're probably mad at me for what pulling you out of the game early," I finally said in my gentlest voice.

He stared at me, or right through me for all that matter and just shrugged. He didn't say anything for a while, but after a while he sighed deeply. "Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice trembling a bit.

"Because I had to," I told him straightforward. "I could not stand there and do nothing while you sat there another twenty five minutes, waiting for something that wasn't going to happen."

Sander then realized I knew more about the situation than he expected. When it hit him I'd found out about what he'd hidden so well the past few months, even without him telling me, the floods burst open and tears now came running down his cheeks. I moved a bit closer to the weeping boy and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gently pulling him in, letting him feel it was okay to let it all out. Surrendering to his tears, he buried his face into my shoulder and cried his little heart out. It made my own heart bleed and my anger towards that jerk of a man who's his coach grew exponentially. Of course I could not let that stand in the way of what I had to do right now: give comfort to the boy. I wrapped my arms around him and gently caressed his back, giving him all the time he needed to get it all out off his system.

After a couple of minutes he slowly calmed down, his crying turning into snorting and sniffing. I held onto the boy and soothed him, whispering softly to him. Finally, he sat up again, his eyes all red, tears dribbling down his cheek. I reached out for a box of tissues on the coffee table and offered them to him, allowing him time to blow his nose. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the little fellow, but I was somehow relieved that he had found comfort with me. When he finished wiping his face clean on both tissues and sleeves, he laid his head back down on my shoulder. I gave him some extra moments to relax before I decided to pick up our conversation.

"Feeling better," I asked him in a hushed voice, gently brushing his hair with my fingers. Sander just nodded and sighed deeply, for the rest not moving a muscle. "Your hot chocolate must have gotten cold by now," I then said randomly. Want me to make you a fresh cup, or maybe heat it up a bit?"

That brought some life back into the boy. He slowly raised himself up and turned to where his chocolate milk sat on the table, untouched. He reached out and took a sip. "It's still okay," he let me know, before taking another swallow.

"Glad you like it, buddy," I smiled back, reaching out to give him a few pats on the shoulder.

To prove that he did like his hot drink, he lifted the cup he still held in his hand and finished it in one go. Triumphantly he popped the cup down on the table and licked the chocolaty mustache of his lips for emphasis. At least he seemed to lighten up a bit again. But then his little face turned serious again, knowing that there was still some things he'd have to clarify. It was Sander who popped the first question.

"About something being wrong with those football matches?" I return the question, wanting to know for sure we were talking about the same thing.

"Because you kinda avoided the subject last week, during dinner," I explained. "And your grandmother confirmed it when I mentioned that to her."

"Dunno…" he said. "I guess I was afraid she wouldn't allow me to play football anymore if she knew."

"Really? I find that hard to believe, Sander," I reassured him. "She knows you like it. I don't think she'd take that away from you so quickly."

"Sometimes," Sander admitted. "But I usually just said it was because we'd lost again."

"I see," I nodded. "Anyway, it's admirable that you're still holding on. Most people would have given up a lot sooner."

"But this can't go on, and you know that," I carried on, not letting him finish his sentence and letting him know I was dead set on getting this solved.

"It's only a few more weeks before the season ends," Sander rebuked. "I can keep up for that long."

"I bet you can, buddy," I said. "But what if your coach stays with the team next season. Are you going to let another year pass like this?"

Sander looked at me, a bit offended by my point of view. "If needs be," he finally shrugged.

"I'm afraid your grandmother might indeed make you quit the team if this doesn't end right here and now," I warned him.

"She does, Sander, and I hope I won't have to be the one telling her," I said, in a tone that showed him I was not kidding. "Look, I can see how much football means to you, but something has to change about how things go right now."

"It is, my little friend," I sighed. "Because instead of loving the game, you'll end up getting so sick and tired of it, you won't even want to play anymore. I don't want that to happen and I know you don't either."

"What can we do," I corrected him. "You're not on your own in this, Sander. I don't know what we can do, right now, but something has to happen. That's why it's better to tell your grandmother the whole story, when she gets home. She might know what to do."

Sander's desperate look told me how much he dreaded talking to his grandmother about this. "Okay, I'll tell her," he surrendered. "But only if you're there, when I do."

"Thanks, Robert," he then smiled back at me and before I knew it, he'd wrapped his little arms around me in a big hug. I did the same and held him close to me.

I'm quite positive that we would have sat there like that for quite a while if we weren't interrupted by the doorbell. It was close to midday, which meant it was probably Annie picking her grandson up for lunch. Reluctantly letting go off the little boy in my arms I got up and answered the door, indeed finding Annie standing on the porch. I invited her in and showed her to the lounge where Sander was. The boy got up with a smile and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I just have to put my shoes back on," he told her, already reaching for his sneakers.

While Sander was getting ready to go home, I briefed Annie on how things went this morning. I also told her I'd advised Sander he should talk to her about the matter, but that he wanted me to be present when he did so.

"Well, if you like chicken stew and mashed potatoes," Annie proposed, "then maybe we can discuss things over dinner."

"Yeah, Robert, please come," Sander begged, having snuck up on us, putting on his jacket.

"Dinner it is," I quickly accepted the offer, unable to resist my little buddy's enthusiasm.

"Yep, I'm ready," the boy nodded and then hugged me again, briefly. "See you later, ey, Robert."

"Sure thing, buddy," I said, returning his hug and patting his back a couple of times. "And don't worry about a thing, we'll sort this out," I added.

"Here, Sander, you go ahead," Annie told the boy when he opened the door, handing him a set of keys. "I'll be there in a minute.

With the kid out of hearing distance, Annie turned back to me, smiling kindly. "He seems to be okay," she concluded.

"Yeah, but the situation is worse than he lets out," I let her know. "He'll tell you all about it later on. All that I'm concerned about right now, is finding a way to fix things. I might know something I can try, but Sander will have to agree on it."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather wait and tell you during dinner," I said vaguely. "I have to make a phone call first, to make sure if what I'm thinking of can be done."

"Okay, then," she accepted. "Still, it's good to know Sander's found someone who supports him. I know you won't let him down."

"I'll try not to," I promised. "He's a good kid. I'm gonna do my best and be the friend he wants me to be."

"He already knows that, Robert," Annie reassured me. "I better go see to his lunch, then. I'll be seeing you in a couple of hours."

We said our goodbyes and I saw her off home. I went back inside and fixed me a quick lunch, existing out of cheese and ham sandwiches and some instant tomato soup. I waited another hour before making that call I'd talked about. It was a long shot, but it was worth trying. In my opinion, my idea was Sander's best option and if things worked out okay, it would be up to me to convince the boy that it was.

A phone call, one that pretty much increased my next phone bill tenfold, later, I decided to relax a bit for a while, before heading over to have another dinner with my favorite neighbor (I hadn't met many others to compare, but I don't expect any to be able to compete with Sander). Hopefully it would be just as pleasant an evening as the week before, but that would more or less depend on how Sander would take news I had for him after that lengthy phone call. Good news, in my opinion, but the end decision would be his and his only. Anyway, I grabbed a book to read, turned on the stereo to play the latest Black Keys album and sat down to chill, with a cold 'Duvelke' to calm my nerves a bit.

The next couple of hours passed way too quickly and I almost didn't make it on time for the invitation. I took a quick shower, changed into a different pair of jeans and a yellow and black sweater and did my best to look decent. I don't think Sander would care about what I looked like, but I consider it impolite to show up for dinner looking like a vagabond. I arrived just in time, with Sander already impatiently peering out of the window and waving at me as soon as he saw me turn up their front yard. I didn't need to ring the bell, because the little fellow was already opening the door, rushing me inside.

He slammed the door shut, provoking a nasty reproach from his grandmother and then wrapped his arms around me in what was becoming a habitual hug. A habit I gladly welcomed. Then he added another dimension to his hug by pulling me down by the neck and planting a wet kiss on the cheek. I then decided to go the whole nine yards. With his arms still around my neck, I wrapped my arm around him and lifted him up in the air. He quickly got the picture and eagerly folded his legs around my waste, allowing me to carry him inside. My other arm I held underneath his little butt for support so he would feel secure in my grasp. When I went inside, I found Annie setting the table and she shook her head in disbelief at the sight before her.

"I found this one at your door," I told her. "Any idea what we should do with him?"

"He seems harmless enough," I said as I looked at the boy's grandmother. "I'd take my chances."

"If he promises to leave my front door intact, he can stay," Annie then agreed, cleverly adding a kind warning about not slamming doors.

"Well, then, why don't you two sit down," the boy's grandmother invited us. "Dinner should be ready in a minute."

The obviously affectionate little boy only let go after giving me another kiss and then sat down, patting the seat of the same chair I'd sat on the last time. Annie then appeared with first a large pot of steaming hot chicken stew, followed by another plate of mashed potatoes. She scooped us each a large heap and threatened us with the dishes if we didn't eat it all up. Before I attacked the once again deliciously smelling food, I told her we'd be doing dishes together. Me as a token of gratitude for the meal, Sander to make up for slamming that door. The boy gave me a reproachful look, but never complained about being dragged into doing this chore.

During dinner we talked about trivial stuff, mostly. Sander was a bit more quiet than last week, but I understood that he was a bit edgy about what we'd agreed on: telling his grandmother how things really were with his football team. After finishing our dinner, grandmother excuses herself for a bit, giving me the time to make a little deal with the boy.

"I suppose this is as good a time as any to have that little talk with your grandmother, don't you think," I said.

"It'll be okay, buddy," I reassured him, gently squeezing his shoulder for support. "You know what we'll do? I'll go do those dishes and then the two of you have a quiet chat together."

"I am, buddy," I told him. "I'll be right there in the kitchen. When you need me, just call for me."

"Okay," he sighed deeply, understanding that it's no use putting it off any longer.

"Good boy," I smiled at him. At that very moment, Annie joined us again. "I'll go do the dishes, now" I told her. "I believe there's something this little fellow here needs to get something off his chest."

The woman quickly grasped my intentions and just nodded, telling Sander they should sit on the couch to be more relaxed. I got up and started gathering the used pots and plates and cutlery and carried everything in the kitchen, where I filled the sink with lukewarm water and a bit too much detergent. When I went back for a second load of things to add to the dishes, I found Sander looking down a bit, quietly telling his story, practically inaudible for me. I didn't mind, though, this was something the boy had to do at his own pace. Pretty happy to find him finally informing his grandmother, I retreated back into the kitchen where I washed everything crystal clear. A quarter of an hour later, when I was about done with the dishes, Annie came into the kitchen, taking a washcloth and wiping the cooker clean.

"I know it will sound crazy," she told out of the blue. "But colliding with you last week was the best thing that could have happened to that boy."

"He wouldn't have met you if he hadn't," she explained. "And I'll still be guessing why those football matches were so troublesome for him."

"I don't know," I said. "I'm just as amazed as you are he carried on like that. There's a thin like between being perseverant and just plain stubborn."

"You got that right, Robert," she agreed. "I think it was a bit of both. Still, you got him to talking about it. How did you manage to drag it out off him?"

"Errrr, I didn't. Not exactly," I confessed. "I think that would have been pointless. I pretty much learned about it all by talking to one of the other kids' parents."

"Pretty much, even thought the man I talked too didn't exactly tell me the whole store, " I admitted. "When we got back, I just decided to confront him with the problem at hand. There was the chance that I'd got it wrong, but I expected him to give me his side of the story if I had interpreted it all incorrectly."

"Interesting approach, Robert," Annie complemented me. Or at least I think it was a complement. She might as well be a bit angry at me for taking such a risk.

"I guess," I replied, scratching the back of my head. "I was glad I'd understood things as they were, or it could have been messy. Luckily it turned out okay."

"Yeah, that's what counts in the end, I suppose," she agreed. "So, what happens next?"

"Oy, straight to business, huh," I sighed. "I did make that phone call I told you about. The outcome was pretty positive, but nothing's settled as yet. It'll all depend on what Sander wants."

"A colleague at work," I told her. "He's coaching the Under 10's of Racing Doomkerke. I explained the whole situation to him and asked him if there was a chance to transfer Sander to his team."

"Racing Doomkerke?" the lady sounded surprised. "Don't they play at a higher level?"

"The majors do," I nodded. "Their youth teams come out in different competitions, ranging from national to local, like the team Sander is in now."

"I see," Annie said understandingly. "And you believe that would be better for Sander? Wouldn't it be better to talk with his coach first?"

"I've met the man, Annie," I sighed, knowing that her suggestion would be the first option. "I didn't like him. I don't think a friendly chat will change anything."

"I'm aware of that," I told her. "That's why it has to be his choice. I'm pretty sure he'll make friends with Racing, too."

"Then I suppose you should go and talk to him," the boy's grandmother finally allowed. "But you'll respect his decision, right?"

"Of course," I promised, as I dropped the towel I'd been holding during our entire conversation.

After getting the go ahead from Annie, I went into the living room, finding Sander on the couch watching some sitcom on tv. When he saw me he moved over a bit, clearly wanting me to sit right next to him. I did and it only took him a couple of counts to shuffle closer to me again. Apparently he wanted to be as close to me physically as possible. I gladly let him to cuddle up right next to me, laid an arm over his shoulder and waited for him to get comfy.

"See, I told you not to worry about that," I told him. "And now it's my turn to talk to you."

"About what?" the boy wanted to know, already feeling another serious discussion was coming up.

"About how we can make sure you'll actually play," I elaborated. "You want to be able to score goals for your team, right?"

"So I have been told," I said, remembering what the kind man had told me. "I also heard you were actually pretty good."

"Well, we should find out, don't you think?" I suggested. "Does the name Racing Doomkerke mean anything?"

"You mean the big club in town? Sure!" he nodded, raising his head to be able to watch me as we spoke, clearly wondering where this was going.

"Good, then I don't have to explain that part to you," I continued. "If you could, would you like to play for Racing?"

"You mean, instead of Rood-Zwart?" Sander wanted to make sure. "That'd be great, but I don't think I'm good enough for that."

"I don't know about that, Sander," I said. "But wouldn't you like to find out if you are good enough?"

"They only invite players for tests after scouting," the boy told me, clearly knowing more about it than I expected. "I haven't been playing, so they won't be inviting me for trials."

"No, probably not," I sighed and then grinned at him. "Unless someone you know shares an office with their coach."

"Well, Racing's Under 10's coach is a colleague of mine, and a pretty good friend," I explained to the confused little boy. "I gave him a call this afternoon and told him a bit about you. He said he's willing to give you a chance to show him what you've got."

"What? Really? I can try out with Racing?" the boy almost shouted, his eyes almost jumping out of their sockets. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nuh-uh. I'm dead serious, kiddo," I smiled at him. "Just say yes and I'll call him back in the morning to let him know you're on. But you have to be absolutely sure you want to do this."

"I do want to do it," Sander nodded anxiously. His then suddenly looked worried and asked me: "But what if I'm not good enough for his team."

"That wouldn't be too big a problem," I said. "There's enough players your age playing with Racing for three teams, all in different competitions, depending on their skills. After he sees you play, he'll decide which team you fit best with."

"You mean I'd be playing for Racing, no matter what?" Sander asked, trying to grasp what I meant.

"That's pretty much the idea, yes," I nodded. "After I learned how your coach treats you, I thought the best option for you was to transfer to another club. I've heard Mark, that's my colleague and maybe your new coach, talk about his coaching often enough that they're a lot more professional and that they would never set a player aside for no reason. But it's totally up to you, Sander. My phone call with Mark, this afternoon, was only to find out if there was a chance you could play with them. Nothing's decided yet."

"I want to play again," Sander stated firmly. "I don't really want to leave my friends, though."

"I understand," I nodded. "But what I'm going to say right now might sound harsh. If your teammates are really your friends, why didn't they ever stand up to your coach and ask him to let you play?"

"Dunno," the boy pondered seriously. "Maybe they were scared the coach would do the same to them."

"That's not unlikely," I agreed. "Still, no one seemed to be too concerned about how you felt about all this. Not your teammates, not their parents… I'm afraid the only one who can change anything is you."

Sander sighed deeply and turned to his grandmother for aid. "What do you think I should do, granny?" he asked her.

"I'm afraid things are as Robert tells them," she answered. "Only you can decide what's best. But if I were you, I wouldn't pass up on the opportunity to try out for Racing."

Sander turned to me again, bit his lower lip in deep thought and then smiled brightly, having reached a decision. "I'll do it. I want to play again, not matter what level it is."

"I couldn't agree with you more," I smiled back at him. "That was a tough decision to make, Sander. I'm proud of you, you know."

"You bet," I nodded as I grabbed his hand to show him I meant it. "And I'll be there to watch you during your try outs."

"Thank you!" Sander said happily and then gave me another one of his trademark bear hugs. He then let go again, all excited. "So, when do I get to do that try out?" he wanted to know.

"Well, Mark said that if you decided quickly, he could probably arrange for you to do it next Saturday," I said. "All I have to do is make another call to let him know what your decision was."

"Now that I'm sure that you want to go through with it, I'll let him know first thing Monday morning, when I see him at work," I promised. "After work, I'll hop in and tell you where and when you're expected."

"Great," Sander smiled with pure joy and then jumped over to his grandmother, sitting on her lap and giving her a loving hug. "Isn't it great, granny… I'll be playing for Racing!"

As she held her grandson in a warm embrace, he whispered a 'thank you' to me and I only smiled, happy that I'd been able to do something to get Sander's problems solved. It had been an inspiration of the moment, but it'd seemed like the best thing to do. Sander would now really be playing during matches and if turned out to be a really talented player, he might even be in the national league. No matter what, I'd make sure to be his most fanatic supporter.

A minute or two later, Sander slid off Annie's lap again and stood before me, smiling ear to ear. "Hey, do you want to play another game with me?" he asked.

I briefly glanced at the clock on the wall and answered: "Of course, buddy. Unless it's past your bedtime and there's no time left to play."

Annie then checked the time as well and nodded. "It's close to your bedtime, but after so much serious talking, you can stay up a bit longer."

"Yay!" the little munchkin cheered anxiously, already grabbing my hand to lift me out of the couch. "How about Battleship? Best out of three?"

"Game on, my little friend," I agreed, not really caring about what game we'd play.

Sander then had me sit down at the table while he hurried upstairs to his room to fetch the game. A few minutes later we were firing torpedos at each other. Annie had once again made the living room dim, with enough light for us to sink each other's marine forces. It was only during these moments that I dared look more closely at the boy, this time in nothing but his pajamas. He looked adorable in them. His shirt was grey with red sleeves and had a drawing of a cute litter of lab puppies on the front. His pants were the same gray and were covered in red puppy paw prints.

Besides being extremely delightful in them, I noticed two more things about Sander's pajamas. One, they fit very snug on the boy's lithe body and were probably a size or two too small for him. His shirt didn't quite reach below the waistband of his pants, which in their turn, fit his hips like a second skin and all but concealed the perfect shape of his little butt. His shirt riding up a bit as he leaned forward, left a couple of inches of his back bare. Two, the tightness of his pajamas bothered Sander quite a bit. He would pull on his sleeves and the bottom of his shirt whenever he wasn't placing red or white pawns on his board. Now and then he even sighed, annoyed with his pajamas and even had to pull up the back of his pants a bit to avoid more of his backside to be revealed.

All this had an unwelcome effect on me. In its own way, the whole picture was quite erotic and turned me on a bit, making it a bit difficult to focus on the game. Luckily, Sander was once again very talkative, mostly about the prospect of playing for a bigger team and easily sinking my submarine in the process. That kept me vigilant, making sure I did not let his fight with his pajamas get too much of my attention. Still, that didn't always keep me from checking up on the amount of bare skin that was revealed as the boy moved around. At some point, when he was on the verge of winning a second round of marine warfare, his focus was fully on the game, forgetting about his pants inching down for a while. Only after he sunk my cruiser and claimed his victory, he reached back to pull his pants back up, giggling when he realized a bit of his butt had been showing.

When our eyes met at this for him embarrassing moment, I just smiled, letting him understand that no harm was done. He smiled back, my hidden message understood, and then declared war to me a third time. Unfortunately, Annie announced Sander's bedtime, forcing him to sign a piece treaty instead. A bit disappointed, but without complaining, he got up and stood next to the table, ready to receive my goodnight wishes.

"I would have loved another round, buddy, but I'm afraid my ministry of defense is out of funds and cannot afford new ships," I joked.

"That won't stop me from conquering the work, mister," he giggled at his own wits.

"I was afraid of that, but it was worth a try," I laughed. "But before you invade me territory, you best get a good night's sleep."

"I will," he smiled and then wrapped his arms around me again, leaning into me. "Goodnight, Robert."

I hugged the boy close to me, cradling him a bit as I did, took the liberty of kissing him on the top of his head and then allowed him to get up again. "Sweet dreams, Sander," I said softly. "I'll be seeing you real again real soon."

"Let's go, honey, off you go," Annie then ordered, gently pushing her grandson off to bed. "I'll be down in a few minutes, Robert. I gotta see make sure this one here's safe and sound in bed. You make yourself at home, okay?"

"Sure," I smiled kindly and waved at the boy one last time. I was glad to see him look so happy.

I then got up and invited myself to a cold drink in the kitchen. With a glass of lemonade in my hand I sat down on the couch and briefly glanced at the tv, which was running some film about some hysterical woman being chased by I don't know what or who. Annie joined me five minutes later and then made the most unexpected comment.

"There's a boy upstairs who will not go to sleep without a goodnight kiss from you," she told me in a tone I didn't quite recognize.

"I told him you'd be up there in a minute," she replied. "So you'd be hurry on up, but don't take too long."

I quickly followed her directions, not wanting to give her the chance to change her mind. She probably wouldn't, though. In the end it was Sander who'd asked for me and somehow I knew she didn't say no to him too quickly. I was just wondering how deep into her territory I had walked by now, because tucking the boy in had been her task all these years and I can imagine she treasured those moments. I expected her awkward tone to come from the fact that apparently, her grandson had chosen to share those special times with me, even it would only be the one time. Upstairs, I turned right, found one door ajar with a bit of light seeping through the crack. I softly rapped the door to announce my arrival.

Slowly I opened the door and walked inside. There I found the boy lying on his back, lifting himself up by his elbows as I entered and smiling happily. His covers slipped off him a bit as he raised himself up, showing me a pair of frail bare shoulders. I paid the fact that he was missing a shirt little mind as I pointed at a spot on the bed next to him, asking him silently if I was allowed to sit down beside him. He simply nodded and moved over a few inches to give me a bit of extra space.

I then took some time to check out the boy's room, which was all you could expect from a room of a nine-year old lively football player. The wall where his bed sat against was covered in posters and flags of his favorite team, added by a few posters of world famous players like Messi. Next to his bed was a small table with a digital alarm clock and two stuffed doggies on top. The rest of his room existed out of a small wardrobe, a desk with a laptop sitting on it and one of those IKEA blocks with baskets full of toys, mostly LEGO. A chair on the other side of his bed served as clothes hanger. There I discovered a grey and red pajama shirt and a pair of puppy paw printed pajama pants. That meant the pair shoulders sticking out from under the sheets were only part of the image. Underneath the covers, a very naked boy was lying next to.

With that knowledge, I turned to my little friend again. At the same time, Sander turned to face me and it was clear that he'd been following my eyes the whole time. The naughty little grin that appeared on his little face told me he knew that I knew that he was no longer wearing any pajamas. That did not seem to bother him, though. Why should it? It's not like I could see his nakedness through the sheets and there's nothing special about sleeping in the buff. Actually, it wasn't really a surprise, after last week's bathrobe and seeing how much his pajamas had bugged him this evening. So, I decided not to mention his preference in nightwear and leave it at that. Still, I couldn't help but being curious about what he looked like underneath those warm, comfy covers.

"Hehe, thanks," he giggled. "Maybe we can play up here, next time," he proposed innocently."

"Maybe," I just nodded. "But only if your grandmother agrees. I think she prefers to keep an eye on us."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," I laughed, ruffling his hair a bit. "So, you wanted an extra goodnight kiss, then?"

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded as he moved to sit upright, holding his covers tightly against him to keep them from slipping further down. "And I wanted to say thanks for what you did for me today, you know, with the football."

I grabbed his right hand, caressed it with my thumb as I held it and said: "In all confidence, your grandmother told me last week you wanted me to be your friend. So I thought it was time I stood up and acted like one."

"Does that mean you want to be my friend?" the sweet little kid pleaded. "Forever?"

"Cool!" he smiled happily. He then held out his arms, the sheets drooping down in a heap in his lap and uncovering his bare chest. "Can I have that goodnight kiss, now?" he practically begged.

I understood quickly that his much desired goodnight kiss was meant to conceal our friendship. So, without even paying attention to his now bare upper body, I tenderly wrapped my arms around him, caressing the soft, delicate skin of his back and planted a wet kiss on his forehead, lingering for a while. I added another kiss on his cheek and then held him tightly against me. Only after holding onto the boy for a while, I released my grip and moved back slowly to look him right in the eyes. The loving smile he wore was almost hypnotizing. Almost as if I was on auto pilot, I reached out and brushed my hand against the cheek I'd just kissed. He giggled softly, my touch probably a bit ticklish.

"Okay," Sander just whispered back, yawning as sleep started to creep into his young body, and then laid back down, turning on his side.

"Sweet dreams, Sander," I said, tucking him in warmly and leaning over for an extra kiss.

I gave his little shoulder an extra squeeze and then got up, shuffling back out of his room and waving him goodnight. Silently I shut the door to his bedroom and then headed back downstairs. His grandmother smiled as I joined her in the lounge again and offered me another drink, which I accepted.

"I'm just trying to be the friend he wants me to be," I said. "He's a wonderful little guy."

"That he is," Annie agreed. "And I can see why he wants you as a friend. The way you handled things today showed him you care a lot about him."

"More than I thought," I admitted in all honesty. "I'm usually not as enterprising as that, but for Sander, I just had to be. I'm glad it turned out okay."

"He wouldn't have held it against you, even if it hadn't, Robert," Annie told me. "You did something, which is all that would really matter to him."

"So, I take it you found out about his sleeping habits?" Annie then changed the subject.

It didn't take rocket science to know what she was referring to. I simply nodded, intend to wait and see why she would mention that.

Now that was one tricky question I had to think through a bit. "He seemed comfortable and warm enough and I take it he sleeps well at night. That's all that matters."

"He started this during a hot summer, some years ago," she told me. "At first I thought it to be a bit naughty, but in the end, I made the same conclusion you did. I was a bit worried you might think bad of him if you found out he sleeps naked."

"It's not that big a deal, I suppose," I shrugged. "There's no one there to see him and there's no harm in it. At least he's not doing it behind your back or something."

"Why do you ask?" I finally wanted to know, wondering if she had any suspicions about the true reason was for not making this a big deal.

"I kind of think he wanted you to go up to his room, to learn how you'd react if you knew." Annie explained. "I wanted to know how you felt about it."

Relieved that this discussion hadn't turned out into a confession. Telling her that besides being concerned about Sander's good night's rest, I also thought it was nice to see him out of his pajamas (even if I'd only briefly seen part of him), was probably not a good idea. If me going up to Sander's room would become a weekly habit, chances were that I would be seeing more of him. My friendship with the boy was what really counted, but that didn't mean I wasn't curious about what he looked like. So it was important to not give Annie a reason to put an end to our friendship.

We talked a little bit about other stuff after that. When it was time for me to head home, she thanked me once again for what I'd done for her grandson. I told her I would be calling my colleague first thing in the morning to set a time and place for Sander's try out and that I would pass the information to her as soon as possible. She then invited me to next Saturday's dinner, telling me she'd gladly make it a weekly custom. I of course accepted the invitation, already looking forward to another evening with my little prince (did he pick up on that?). We then said our goodbyes and with a deep sigh of disbelief I headed home. I missed Sander already.

Chapter 3
Preparations

When I woke up the following morning I almost felt like I was still dreaming. The whole film of the previous day played in my mind over and over, skipping the parts where Sander wasn't in it. I was truly amazed at how quickly the boy had become such an important part of my life. When I'd moved to this neighborhood, I had feared the weekends, afraid that a sense of loneliness would creep over me. A pair of inline skates had literally knocked that feeling out of me, replacing it with sheer happiness.

But every now and then that happiness was clouded by another type of insecurity. I knew all too well that the friendship between Sander and me was nothing short of a dream come true. However, whenever I did dream of me being friends with a boy like Sander, the friendship was in a much more evolved stadium. A stadium which would be declared sick and perverted, nurtured by my physical attraction towards young boys, whom, in those dreams, were usually quite well informed about how their bodies worked.

The problem now was that the imaginary boys in my fantasies, lets call them what they are, were all starting to look a lot like the neighbor boy who was worming himself deeply into my life. When that happened, a feeling of guilt would creep over me like a tarantula on the hunt, but not even a whole army of the eight legged critters could stop my fantasies to keep rolling on until, well, you know… That's what worried me: would I be able to keep myself from doing those things I did in those fantasies?

There were a few differences between dreams and reality, though, that made me believe I would be. The biggest contrast lay with Sander and the imaginary boys. In my fantasies, it was always the boy who would make the first move… even then I wanted that everything that happened was with the child's consent. I may only have met Sander not even two weeks ago, I could not imagine him doing that… nor any other boy at that. I always have a hard time believing any nine year old would voluntarily want to do something sexual with a grown man.

But still the fear remained. In those two weeks, there hadn't really been any moment where something might have happened. I hadn't even been alone with him, except when I got him home early from his football match, but there had been more pressing matters to deal with then. I did hope that Sander and I would be allowed to spend some time together, perhaps with me as Sander's babysitter. Knowing about his sleeping habits, that might become very trying. I suppose the key to prevent any major disasters would be to always put Sander's welfare in the first place. I think I already even passed one small test when I discovered that the boy preferred sleeping in the raw and didn't even think about taking a peek under the covers. He didn't seem shy, though, so it will probably be inevitable that he would one day stand before me in his birthday suit. The moment that happened I would know how strong my will to resist really was. Unbreakable, I hoped, because I treasured Sander's friendship way too much to put it at stake for something as trivial as sex.

It was while I was thinking about all this that the matter of babysitting wasn't too far fetched. It hadn't happened yet and it might even be a while before Annie would trust me to take care of her grandson while she was out. I had to make sure, however, that whenever she did ask, I was prepared for it. In my opinion, babysitting Sander also meant accommodating him for the night, because it would be a lot more practical for the boy to spend the night at my place so Annie could sleep in when she wanted to. So, I spent Sunday afternoon running through all the options, which were quite few, to be honest.

First possibility: Sander in my bed, me on the couch. It's a comfortable couch enough for the occasional night, but something inside me told me Sander would never want me to give up my own bed for him, even if I insisted.

Second option on but immediately off the list: Sander on the couch, me in bed. You simply do not put a child on a couch for the night, even if he might think it adventurous.

Three, tempting but no: Sander in bed with me. It's definitely big enough, but with what I said above about avoiding any sort of tantalizing situations, that was not an option. It would be wonderful to wake up in the morning with Sander's cute little face being the first thing I'd see, but if his sleeping in the raw didn't limit itself to his own bed, there could be trouble.

So, the only possible solution was to give Sander his own bedroom at my place. Luckily, I had that second bedroom, which now served as a storage room for cd's and dvd's. My priorities lay with Sander, though, so I went upstairs to that spare bedroom and started measuring up the room and thinking about how I could make it a comfortable bedroom for Sander, without having to move my music and films somewhere else. The measurements written down on a post-it note, I switched on my computer and surfed the IKEA website. But then I came up with a better idea: if the spare bedroom was to be Sander's during sleepovers, why not let him chose what it should look like. They were expecting a call from me somewhere during next week with the details on the boy's try out, so why not try and find out if I could borrow him for an afternoon of furniture shopping.

With that plan in the back of my mind, the working week started off interestingly, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the job. During our lunch break, Mark, who had arranged Sander's try out, joined me at my table, like he always does. Like every week he told me about how his team performed. Before meeting Sander, I'd envied him for being surrounding by young boys, mostly because I could tell how much he loved coaching them. Mark also really cared about the kids in his team, which was why I'd contacted him when I found out how troublesome Sander's matches went. After his match report, he brought up the forthcoming try out.

"Yep, he is," I told him. "No matter what level he'll be playing at, he just wants to play matches and score goals."

"Of course," Mark smiled. "I haven't coached a single kid in all those years who didn't want that, unless they were dead set on becoming a goalie."

"I bet," I chuckled, always happy to hear Mark share his experiences with me. "Thanks again for doing this for him, by the way. I owe you."

"I'm gonna let Sander play in our next home game," the man started. "That's this Saturday at 9.30 am. I expect him to be there an hour early, for changing, warmups and mostly for me to get to know him a bit and find out what position he usually plays in."

"Yeah…" Mark nodded, looking at me a bit quizzically. "Thing is, I'm letting Sander play in the team that's in the same league as his, to make sure he gets a fair chance. Guess who their opponent is…"

I let the information filter through my mind and it didn't take long to realize what Mark was saying. "They're playing Rood-Zwart, right? Sander's team."

"You should ask him," Mark advised me. "I can always postpone his try outs another week, if needs be."

"I'm seeing him later today," I told him. "I'll talk to him about it. If it were me, though, I'd go through with it, but that's mainly because I want to see his coach's face when he sees Sander in your colors."

"A bit vengeful, are we?" Mark snickered understandingly. "That might not be the right motivation, but it might do his confidence some good if he could show his coach he does deserve to play."

"Of course," Mark nodded. "Ask him what he wants to do and let me know first thing tomorrow. We're only a few weeks before the end of the season, though, so there's not many options left."

"I'm aware of that," I said. "He was really thrilled about being allowed a try out for the big Racing Doomkapelle, though, and I do think he'll take this chance in both hands."

"Okay," Mark smiled. "Well, tell the boy I look forward to seeing him play. I get the feeling he'll surprise the both us."

"He just might," I laughed, getting up to go back to work, more and more sure that things would work out well for Sander.

The rest of the day went by numbingly slowly. I was way too anxious to tell Sander the news and I was really curious about what he'd decide. I also intended to sneak in my invitation to go furniture shopping. I know it's not the most fun thing for a boy of nine to do, but it was worth to try. If needs be, I could always strike the deal by telling him whom we'd be shopping for. Of course, his grandmother would have to agree, as well.

Shortly before leaving the office I made a quick phone call, asking Annie at what time she preferred me to come with the new information. Because it was a school night, she preferred to see me before dinner, so I told her I'd drop by as soon as I got home from work. An hour after the phone call, I'd squeezed in a little grocery shopping on my way home, I stood before my neighbor's front door. This time it was Annie inviting me in, telling me Sander was too busy watching tv. She told me to take a seat in the lounge while she got me a cup of coffee. In the lounge I found Sander curled up on the couch, watching some cartoon I didn't know, dressed in a green hooded sweater and a pair of blue jeans. I quietly sat down next to him, trying not to disturb him. I was unsuccessful.

"Hey, Robert," Sander cheerfully greeted me, quickly forgetting the toon figures on the tv. He sat up and then leaned into me for a hug.

"Hey, sport," I smiled, my heart skipping a beat when he added a quick kiss on the cheek. "How was school today?"

"Okay," he just said and then looked at me hopefully. "Are you having dinner with us again?"

"No, not tonight, buddy," I told him as I wrapped an arm around him in a friendly manner. "It's a school night, so we wouldn't have time to play that game of RISK you challenged me to, the last time."

"Hey, don't worry. There'll be a lot more chances for us to play," I reassured him, squeezing his shoulder tenderly. "I'm here for something else, now."

"He said he was looking forward to seeing you play, kiddo," I repeated Mark's words. "I am, too, actually."

"Yep, you do," I confirmed. "This Saturday or the next, if you'd rather wait another week."

"Well, apparently Racing has a team that's playing in your league," I told him carefully. "Mark wants you to play with them this Saturday. But there's one little thing you should know, though."

Sander's eyes grew big as saucers when he realized what I was saying. "You mean, against my team?"

"Yep," I nodded. "Mark wanted me to ask you if you're okay with that. If you'd rather wait till next week, it's okay with him."

Biting his lower lip, Sander pondered over what I'd just told him. Not immediately able to make a decision, he turned to me questioningly. "What would you do?" he asked.

"Oy! Tough question," I admitted. "I've been thinking about it, too. Whatever you say, goes, but if it were me, I would go for it."

"I understand that's not easy," I said. "But if they're really your friends, they would be glad for you to be given the chance."

"You're a good kid, Sander," I smiled, softly rubbing his shoulder. "You're loyal to your friends and that's only recommendable, but you're allowed to put yourself in the first place once in a while. No one will hold that against you."

"That's something we'll worry about afterwards," I eased his worries. "No matter how well you do, you'll be playing for Racing. Mark just wants to see you perform so he can decided which of the teams you'll fit in best. All you can do for now is just do your best and play the way you did."

"I suppose," the kid sighed again and then looked at me pleadingly. "You're coming too, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, buddy," I promised him. "I'll be rooting for you the whole time. Besides, I'll need to introduce you to Mark, so he knows who you are."

"Okay," Sander finally agreed and then flashed his trademark smile at me. "I'll try and score a few goals for you, Robert."

"That would be awesome, kid," I smiled and then hugged the kid into me again. "Now, something else. Do you have plans for Saturday afternoon?"

"I don't know," he said, turning to his grandmother, who'd followed our conversation from the seat next to us. "Do we, granny?"

"Well, you remember the room you helped me move those cd's and all up, right," I explained Sander.

"I was thinking about making it a genuine bedroom, in case I'd ever have a guest staying over," I elaborated.

"I'll be needing to shop for a bed and such," I told him. "I was thinking, maybe you'd like to tag along when I go shopping. That is, if your grandmother doesn't mind."

"Probably, that's why I'm asking you to join me, so it'll be a bit less boring," I grinned.

"I don't know…" Sander pondered, on the verge of refusing my invitation. "Do I have to?"

"No, of course not, it was just an idea," I smiled, ready to play my trump card. "But when I saw your bedroom last weekend, I thought you had good taste. I was kinda hoping you'd come and help me pick the right stuff to make the guest room a bit cool."

"I do," I nodded affirmatively, heading onto thin ice with the next phase. "Because, if you're cool with it, I want to make it a room for you."

I turned to his grandmother, a bit worried I was taking this a step too far. "The thing is, Annie," I said to her. "I know we've only met a short while ago, but I thought, why not offer my services as a babysitter. I don't know if you ever need one, of course, but it would be my way to repay you for the last two Saturday dinners."

"A babysitter?" Annie asked. "You mean you'd look after him if I'd ever go out or something."

"Well, I do go out on occasion," Annie told me. "Usually I ask Cindy, one of the other teachers' daughter, to come watch over him. She does a good job with him."

"You don't have to change that, if you prefer keeping things the way they are," I said understandingly. "But I have one big advantage over Cindy."

"Besides the occasional dinner, I'd do it for free," I smiled. "I spend most of my Saturdays at home watching movies, so I'm usually available. I'd have the pleasure of Sander's company and with his own room, he could stay the night, so you can enjoy your night out as long as you want to."

"That's very tempting, Robert," Annie said, slowly falling for my little sales pitch.

"Oh, please say yes," Sander pitched in, dropping to his knees in front of his grandmother. "Robert's a lot more fun than Cindy. All she ever does is study or play with her cell phone. At least Robert plays games with me."

"Now, how can I say no to that," Annie conceded thanks to Sander's Oscar winning performance. No lab puppy had begged for his cookie as well he did. "And I've seen how you are with him. I know you care a lot about my little boy and that he'll be safe with you. But on one condition…"

"I'm paying for half of the furniture you're buying this afternoon," she said, with no room for me to refuse and then looked down at her grandson, who was still on his knees in front of her. "That means, Sander, you can go out shopping with Robert this afternoon."

"Yep, you do," I nodded. "That's why I need you to come along. Otherwise, I'll end up with a little girl's room."

"Great!" I said truly happy with the outcome. "Now, I'd better leave you to your dinner. I'll come pick you up on Saturday morning, okay?"

"You best both come back here for lunch after your match, then," Annie suggested. "Then you can get to your shopping early and be back in time for dinner."

"Yep," I said and then ruffled Sander's hair, the boy still kneeled on the rugged floor. "See you later, ey, sport. Oh, and one more thing. Don't tell anyone about your try out yet, this week, they might not take it well."

"Okay, I won't," Sander promised. The boy then quickly got up and gave me a quick hug, before planting his little butt back on the couch. "Bye, Robert! See you on Saturday!" he said, waving at me and then focussing back on the tv.

If there hadn't been any traffic in the street I would probably have skipped home, I felt so happy. In one night, I'd not only convinced Sander to play his try out match, even if it'd be against his friends, I'd also got him to come along shopping for the bedroom furniture and pretty much hired myself as his future babysitter. I was growing addicted to Sander's presence and I was grateful that his grandmother trusted me with him. The possibility of having the boy as my guest of honor was something to look forward to, no matter when that time would come. After all, I needed to know how much I could trust myself if I was alone with him for some time.

The next day I had lunch with Mark again. I told him of Sander's decision and he went ahead making some extra arrangements as to where we should meet upon arrival. I'd told him about keeping things secret till Saturday, which he agreed to. He called it 'the element of surprise' and I admitted that it was exactly what I'd intended by our secrecy. I just wanted to see the face of Sander's coach when he first sees Sander in the yellow and purple of Racing. I really hoped the boy would indeed score a few goals, if only to make the bitter pill a bit harder to swallow.

The rest of the week went by eventless, but by Friday night, when I got home from work and put some lasagna in the oven for dinner, I had become ever so anxious about how Saturday would go. The plans ahead were terrific, all thanks to Sander being part of them, but so many things could go wrong, that day. My little friend might indeed not be a highly talented player and there was a chance that his match wouldn't go as we'd both like. I had no way of knowing how good he was. I hadn't seen him play, yet, and he hadn't really told much. All I knew was what I'd learned from one of the other kids' fathers. And there was one more thing that bugged me.

With what had happened last week and the rather speedy arrangements made to transfer Sander to another team, there hadn't been time to talk about why his coach had been treating him like that. It might not matter to Sander anymore, but somehow I felt responsible for what might happen in the future. I mean, what if the man decided to replace Sander and do exactly the same with one of the other kids. If I was able do anything to prevent that, I would. Asking Sander was an option, but I figured a few words with the other supporting parents might be the better choice. Frankly, I doubt if my buddy ever knew what had been the cause for all this. I knew there'd be a gap of time before the match began, so I would have to make the most of that.

While I was stuffing my face with the cheap lasagna, the doorbell rang. Not really in the mood for visitors, I shuffled to the front door and opened it. My mood immediately changed when the light of my hallway shone onto my visitors.

"Well, hello there, buddy," I greeted Sander, who did not hesitate to fling himself into my arms again, with his grandmother standing right behind him, observing the whole scene. "What brings you here, huh?"

"That was granny's idea," Sander said, looking back over his shoulder as I held him. "It's about the room upstairs."

I then showed Annie in, closed the door and carried Sander into the lounge where I dropped him on the couch, which he clearly found amusing, going by how he giggled in the way only young boys can. I invited Annie to sit down as well and offered them both a drink. Sander went for some ice tea, Annie drank coffee, like me.

"Yes," Annie replied as she stirred some cream into her coffee. "Since you're planning to let Sander chose the furniture and the decorations, it might be a good idea to let him check it out first."

"Oh, right, of course," I agreed. "We don't want to end up with furniture that doesn't fit, huh. I already measured it out, though."

"Come with me," I then ordered Sander, getting up and heading for my desk. There, I waited until he stood next to me and picked up the post-it note with the numbers, laying it out before him. "Look, this is how big the room is," I explained. "Why don't you head upstairs and draw out a little plan with how you'd like the bed and all that to be. You can use all the pens and paper you need."

"I really get to decide what the room will look like?" Sander asked, still thinking I wasn't serious.

"There's no fun in having you stay the night in a room you don't like, now, is there," I smiled, ruffling his hair a bit. I grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him in the general direction of the stairs and playfully slapped his little buns. "Now, skedaddle, my little interior designer. Go knock yourself out."

Giggling excitedly (and probably because of the tap on his posterior), the boy quickly headed for the hallway and up the stairs. I then joined Annie again, taking a sip of my coffee.

"You have no idea how much this means to him, Robert," she said, rather seriously.

"I don't know," I honestly answered, not quite understanding why she said that. "Maybe I'm rushing things a bit. I just want to be there for him, as his friend."

"He already knows that," Annie said. "But you're doing a lot more than just being there for him. You're letting him make his own decisions and you've accepted him for who he is."

"That's hardly difficult, is it," I shrugged. "He's a great kid. He's clever enough to make the right choices. I can only give him some guidance, but in the end it's Sander who has to do what he thinks best, even if it turns out badly. It's called learning, I suppose."

"Exactly," Annie agreed. "But it's you who allows him to learn. Why are you giving him that bedroom?"

"Except for a few racks of dvd's and cd's, it's pretty much an empty room," I simply told her. "It's nice to know it's going to be used, every now and then. If Sander's ever spending the night, he'd be most comfortable in a room of his own."

"He would have settled for the couch, you know," the kind lady simply said. "He's already happy you want to look after him, mostly because he knows you'll actually pay attention to him."

"I just want him to be comfortable," I told her. "And allow him some privacy if he needs it."

"I know what you mean," Annie understood. "He won't mind wearing pajamas, if you ask him to."

"With his own room, he can do whatever he likes," I simply stated. "I want it to feel like home a bit. That's part of it."

"That's what I meant when I said you've accepted him for who he is," Annie smiled.

"I have, so why change anything," I said. "Besides, if he doesn't need pajamas, he won't have to pack to spend the night here. All he'll need is his own toothbrush, which I'll be happy to buy for him."

"I hadn't even thought about that," Annie laughed. "It must be true men are more practical."

"If practical is a form of laziness, I suppose it is true," I joked along. "Now what's keeping our aspiring interior designer so long?"

"Yeah, it is getting a bit late," Annie wondered as well. "It's about time to get him ready for bed."

A minuted later I had climbed the stairs and found the door to the second bedroom ajar, with some light creeping through the crack. I opened the door quietly, not wanting to startle Sander. I found him on his knees, bent over a piece of paper, diligently working on a drawing of some sort. I hunched down next to him and briefly peeked at the drawing. I must admit I was curious about what he was drawing.

"Sander, buddy," I said quietly, reaching out and gently caressing his back. "I'm afraid it's time to head home."

"Wow, you did a great job, kiddo," I told him, amazed at the detail in the plan he'd drawn.

Believe me, I didn't just say that to please Sander. He'd really gone through lengths with it. The drawing not only showed where the bed, the desk with chair and a small dresser had to go, it said pretty much what the furniture should look like, colors and all. Underneath he'd written down some details, information on what went in the dresser (a change of clothes in case he'd be with me for more than a night, spare blankets…) and what he liked to use the desk for (to play games at his laptop, do homework, drawing…). He had omitted the racks with my cd's and dvd's, but I had already found a solution for those, in case he didn't want them in the room. I had a small storage room downstairs that was spacious enough for all that.

On top of the whole scheme with the furniture, he'd even marked the walls, writing out what color he wanted them painted in. That hadn't been part of the deal, but I silently agreed that it wouldn't be his room if he didn't like the colors of the walls. That meant we'd have to make a stop at a D-I-Y store on our way back from our furniture shopping.

As we were sitting there, he pointed at every feature on the drawing, explaining what it all meant. For a nine year old boy, he had a very keen eye for detail. The 'aspiring interior designer' remark I'd made earlier when talking with his grandmother might have been closer to reality than I'd imagined. I made a mental note in the back of my head to talk to him about that some day. His enthusiasm was rubbing off on me and I knew I'd made the right choice to make this room his. When he finished his exposition, he looked me right in the eye, waiting for me to speak my mind about it all.

I quickly looked around the room and then nodded. "Your drawing and what you've explained to, I can pretty much see it. Your room will be a lot cooler than mine."

"You bet," I admitted. "If you don't pay attention, I might even switch your room with mine."

"I'm just kidding, little prince," I winked, patting his thigh a couple of times. "The room's all yours. Just one little question. Who's gonna paint these walls?"

"Since you've done such a good job drawing out this plan, maybe we can do the whole decorating together," I suggested. "From scratch."

"You mean we'd be painting it together?" Sander wanted to know if he understood me correctly.

"That's right," I nodded. "And put all the furniture in place. It will feel even more like your room if you did all that yourself. Well, with my help."

My little artist looked around the room a bit and then smiled. Obviously the idea of creating his own space by himself met with his approval. He turned to me, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "This is going to be so cool," he said cheerfully and then wrapped his arms around me in a loving hug. "Thanks, Robert," he whispered.

I held the boy closely and patted his back. "You're most welcome, my little prince," I answered just as silently. "Now, let's get you downstairs before your grandmother thinks I'm keeping you here."

We both got up, reluctantly letting go of each other and headed downstairs, Sander leading the way, holding his drawing in his hands. Halfway down, the boy stopped and turned around a bit to be able to look at me. "I like it when you call me your little prince," he said with a loving smile, blushing a bit as he told me.

Before I could reply, he turned around again and hopped down the rest of the stairs, going into the living room where his grandmother sat, waiting to go home. We set a time when I would pick up Sander for his try outs, said our goodbyes and then I showed Annie and the boy out, wishing them goodnight. I only went back inside when they were out of sight, still not believing my luck in having such an amazing little fellow as my friend.

It was only when I sat back on my couch, my unfinished lasagna completely forgotten, that I knew what Sander had really said when he admitted that he liked being called my little prince. I don't know how often nine year old boys say 'I love you', but deep inside I knew that was exactly what he meant. And rest assured, I felt the same way. Sensitive as he is, he must have translated my pet name for him as a declaration of love for him, which he had now accepted and returned tenfold. This complicated our friendship in a way, because doing something wrong to him would not only jeopardize our friendship, it could also mean breaking his frail little heart. That I did not want to happen.

Рок Верхтер

Sander

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

Table of Contents

Chapter 1
A New Beginning

Chapter 2
Pitch Fever

Chapter 3
Preparations

Рок Верхтер

Sander

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

Table of Contents

Chapter 1A New Beginning

Chapter 2Pitch Fever

Chapter 3Preparations

Chapter 1
A New Beginning

Chapter 2
Pitch Fever

Chapter 3
Preparations