January 1 What a great way to start the year! A new family has moved in next door. Four kids. The oldest one is Cyril who is ten. I watched them from my bedroom window and when I saw that Cyril had wet his pants my eyes bugged out. I practically fell down the stairs trying to get outside before he disappeared or changed or something but it was OK. I said "hi" and got out my toboggan. Then I asked if he wanted to go to the hill with me and he said he'd ask his. Mom. I had a moment of panic, but he came out looking just the same. I can't tell you how my heart was beating. He was wet about the size of a shoe and I guessed he had a few layers underneath. We became friends even though I'm three years older and he told me about his little sister having polio and his father buying the bottle water business and his mother being from England. He likes bikes and video games and so we aren't so different. Except of course THE THING. January 2 Larry is nine and Doug is eight. Doug wets his pants too. Two in one family! Larry doesn't. We played over across the road by the creek sledding. Every time Cyril got up from taking a run I looked, hoping, but there was nothing. The whole morning! Even I had to take a leak in the woods but he didn't. It was really disappointing until the thought came to me that maybe he was wet after all, if you know what I mean. It couldn't be, I thought. Not at ten. They don't even make plastic pants that size. We went back for lunch and I ate over there. I like his Mom. She's not pushy or busy. She just takes things as they come. We're sitting there eating peanut butter and jelly and she's cleaning up the sink and she says, " Are you wet, Cyril?" I almost choked on my milk. "Nuhuh," he says. "Go to the bathroom before you go back out." she says. He doesn't say anything but later he goes. Nuts! Nothing all day. Only his Mom saying that. God! But if he had you-know- whats on he wouldn't have gone to the bathroom, would he? I mean you're taped into the things if they're the throwaway kind and pinned in if they're the others. But why would she ask unless it was where you couldn't see? I guess I'm just doomed to wonder for awhile. January 3 They all went away today to see grandparents. How did I keep myself busy before Cyril moved in? I looked at my rubber sheet today that I've never let anybody see all my life and decided that I'll bring Cyril into my room before my Mom makes up my bed some day. I don't mind Cyril knowing. In fact the idea gives me a boner. I'm sure he does too. I'd love to see his room. January 4 This journal must be magic. It was sleety today so we played inside the Potters. There is a playroom on the bottom floor and the kids bedrooms are on the top floor. The three boys are in the same room. I asked Cyril right out if I could see his room. He asked why and I said because we were friends and he could see mine too. He said just a minute he had to check. He came back and said OK. What he was checking was if the beds were made. They were. Boy what a smell! I loved it, of course. It made my head swim. The funny thing was that only two beds were made. It was Larry's that wasn't. We didn't hang around long. There wasn't much there except teddy bears and some ace posters on the wall. Doug wet his pants playing trucks and got scolded. Guess she doesn't allow it in the house. Cyril stayed dry. I hope tomorrow it's sunny! January 5 Friday More sleet! We played at my house today. We were playing cars in my room. (By the way, I lost my nerve and made my bed before breakfast. Mom couldn't believe it.) Two wonderful things happened. First I was sitting down and Cyril was standing up and he was close to me and I smelled him so strong I got dizzy. Either his jeans had been peed or-- and I'm pretty sure it's this -- he didn't have a shower and really soaked himself last night. He was rich. I wanted to hug him! The other thing was when he said he had to pee I said my Mom was in the bathroom doing her hair, which was mostly a lie because she was doing it in her bedroom. We played for a little while more and when Cyril got up from being on his belly he was wet. Just then Mom called us for lunch so he knew she was out of the bathroom and he finished up there. Then the sun came out and we went outside. Cyril climbed up the apple tree while I was playing with Larry and when he came down he was absolutely soaked. I mean he had just let go! I just had a glance before he went into their house. When he came out he had changed. I could of cried of frustration. January 6 Saturday We went downtown shopping with Cyril's mother. When he leaned over the back of the front seat to get something next to his mother I saw down the back of his pants. He had at least two pairs of underpants on. One was PINK! Now I'm really confused. No wetting downtown. Back home he did. were tobogganing again. Like the first time. So the pink ones weren't you know whats. I think he did the works but all those underpants and long johns soaked it up. Later we went inside and played cards on my bed. He was wetter when we were done. Not much though. One more day of vacation, then back to the grindstone. And I'll be lucky to see Cyril at all!! I may die of yearning. I'm dying to touch him when he's wet. I just wonder what he'll do. January 7 Sunday I decided lying in bed last night that I'd get him to wrestle or tickle him, just so we'd start touching one another. Why am I so shy? Crazy! When they got back from church we went sledding. On the second run I got up my nerve and turned us over so that we were all in a pile at the bottom of the hill. Then we threw snow at one another and he tried to put some down my neck and so I tried to put some down the back of his pants and he squirmed and giggled and I said "Cyril's ticklish!" and he said he was not and so I tickled him and he just rolled and laughed and then said, "Wait, stop, no more, wait." "Why not?" I said. "You'll make me pee my pants" he said. He sat back on his legs with his legs spread and shook the snow off his coat. There was a spot there and I thought, It's now or never!" and so I said," Too late." and tickled him to the ground again. He loves being tickled. When we were done we stood up and brushed off. "You made me pee my pants." he said. "So what?" I said. "I'd better go change", he said. "Why?" I said. "We're both wet from the snow anyway." He didn't say anything but reached down and made a snowball and threw it at me laughing and ran away. We had a great snowball fight for a minute or two and then I rushed him and we wrestled again. Then we were tired and lying on our backs panting, side by side. "I'm glad you're my friend", I said. "I'm glad too", he said. "Can I ask you something?" He asked. "Sure", I said. "Don't make fun . OK?" he said. "Promise", I said. "Cross your heart," he said. "Cross my fingers and legs too" "No double crossing" he said. "What is it"? I said. "You know how sometimes I have accidents." "Yeah." "My mom says you won't be my friend if I do that, that's why I said stop tickling me." "Why wouldn't I be your friend?" "That's what my Mom says." "She's wrong. I like you even better because of it." "You're kidding." "Really." "How come?" "I just do. I wish I could." "Really?" "I'm not kidding." January 9 Cyril's Dad took the three boys and me to a matinee. Dropped us off actually. It was ET. The movie was great. Cyril and I sat away from Larry and Doug. When I said let's go up and get a coke and some popcorn Cyril said he couldn't. "I'm wet" he said. I said that was ok but he said the usher got mad at him once for making the seat wet and made him show him where he was sitting. The guy made him feel bad. I went hard the minute he told me and had that dizzy feeling. "You aren't that wet!, I said, blindly. "Yes I am, he said." I didn't even ask. I just put my hand between his legs and squeezed. He was really drenched. All he said was,"See what I told you." I was so blown away that I don't even know what I thought then. He didn't mind at all. So I got him some popcorn and a big coke. "If I drink all this you know what'll happen", he said. "So what, I said. It will serve that usher right." Cyril said he didn't work there anymore. It was a really great movie. The coke hit Cyril about the time ET was on the bicycle. I saw him slide down in his chair and straighten his legs. Then he lifted up on his elbows. He told me it was so it would run down his jeans and out at the cuffs instead of dripping off the chair and making a noise. The girl in front knew something was up, though when it was wet under her feet and she turned around. "I spilled my coke", I said. "Sorry". She made some remark to her friend and giggled. Cyril smiled at me. I felt like some kind of protector. In the car Larry who was probably mad because we sat by ourselves, reminded Cyril in a loud voice that he better not sit on the seat because he was so wet. I don't think Cyril had any idea of sitting down. He was leaning over the seat telling his Dad about the movie. Cyril just turned and said, "I'm not sitting, Bossy!" and then went on telling his Dad. I thought it was nice of his Dad not to be mean. January 10 It has gotten colder and all the Potter boys are wearing snow pants. A funny thing has happened. When I had lunch with them Mrs. D. didn't ask Cyril and Doug the big question. (By the way I learned from Cyril that she always asks, even if it's obvious because some doctor told her the boys should admit to it and not pretend it wasn't true - had overheard her telling this to his father) If you know these snow pants you know it's very hard to tell what's going on inside. They can get real wet just from the snow and they can dry out real fast if there's a wind. Also you know that if it's wet inside it stays that way. I think Mrs. D was just on vacation. Out of sight out of mind. So old Doug ups and says he's wet. Go change, then, she says and dishes out the soup. Doug looks at Cyril as if he expects him to fess up as well and then goes on upstairs. After lunch Larry goes for his music lesson and Doug decides to watch TV, so Cyril and I go over to my house. Mom is off at the hospital visiting my Aunt Karen and I know she won't be back till dinner because there are some TV dinners thawing on the counter. I was so wound up thinking about the inside of those snow pants that I forgot what it meant that my mother was away for the day. I forgot until we opened the door to my room and there was the old yellow rubber sheet. I must of looked pretty funny. "I've got one of those." Cyril says. "Really?" "Well, what do you think?" "I guess so." And then he patted me on the back like some big guy and said it was OK. I don't know when the idea came up or who had it. Probably both of us at once, that we could sleep over. Boys who pee their beds can't do that, you know. I suppose they could but who would take the risk of some friend turning into an enemy and spreading the word. I had bunk beds. Both equipped. "This can be mine", Cyril said and lay on the lower one. Well it was a great afternoon. First getting that off my chest, then getting Cyril's snow pants off and both of us agreeing that it would be impossible to get wetter unless you jumped in a lake. There wasn't a dry inch. But then of course he got real cold and started shivering halfway through monopoly. "I guess I gotta go change." he said. Wait, I said and looked in the boxes in the hall closet where Mom keeps old clothes like she's going to have another kid some day. There are even baby things there. Well, I find underpants and jeans that are just Cyril's size -- mine three years before. Hoping Cyril won't get mad I take out three pairs of underpants. Of course he doesn't know that I know, but he will in a minute. "I dunno," he says. Won't your Mom be mad. "Of course not," I say. She'll probably give all this stuff to your Mom anyway. So he stands there thinking about it, shivering, until I reach for his top button and undo it. Then it's like a routine. I can tell that lots of the time his Mom changes him because he doesn't question it at all. I undo the other buttons and he puts his hands on my shoulders, stepping out of the legs. Then the three underpants. Well, I'm not sure where to stop, so I don't. I get a towel and dry him off. He's still shivering so I wrap him in the towel. As I do, he cuddles into me like a little kid. It's cold, he says. "I'll warm you up, I say" We get on the bottom bunk and I pull the wool blanket over us and we just lie there all wound up in one another. We do that for awhile and start talking, about movies, school, when we stopped believing in Santa Claus, having a good friend and pretty soon I'm holding his wiener. I take off my pants and he holds mine too. Both of us are too young to come but we have some good fun. Then he gets dressed in my pants and we finish monopoly while his other pants are in the dryer. January 11 I had a fight with my Dad about having Cyril staying over. One bed-wetter is enough he says, very cruelly, I thought. Cyril is too young, he says. I am immature. I should have friends my own age. I do have, I remind him but Cyril is a friend too. My mother who is very thick with Mrs. Potter nowadays says I am good for Cyril and the Potters are very grateful. That having an older friend may help him get over his problem. They can't bring themselves to name it. They and Mrs. D. only knew my real effect on Cyril's problem! Well, Mom wins and so I win. My father's parting shot is that he doesn't want Cyril wetting on the furniture. Poor Cyril. January 12 My Mom and Dad always wake me up just as I'm getting into real sleeping and check my condition. This means either a trip to the bathroom or a change. So Cyril and I can't snuggle till the wake up routine is over. I pretend to wake up, act sleepy, go to the bathroom and flush the toilet. There's no way I'm going to let Cyril sail into the morning alone. They don't get Cyril up. Probably too embarrassed at the idea of finding him wet. When Dad goes, we get into the lower bunk and cuddle. Cyril is almost asleep when I get out. I climb up and lie awake staring at the ceiling. I can't believe this is happening to me. I don't know how long I stay like that before I decide I have to touch Cyril while he is asleep. I am so hard my sheet is like a tent. Cyril is curled up on his side toward me. I reach in and find the little slit in his pjs. When I reach my hand in he puts his hand on my wrist but he's still asleep. When I tickle the end of his wiener I feel something warm on my hand and I hold my finger in the stream. It is so great to feel it. Then I squeeze him enough to stop it and he unbends like a spring and squeezes my wrist so I let it go again. But I do this three or four more times, a little longer each time till he whimpers and almost wakes up. Then it's over and he's lying in a warm pool, just like I will be before long. Then I got to thinking about all this. Any kid will be wet if you give him half a chance. I can't understand why everyone has such a fit. I've seen kids at a ski place who stand right in line getting a coke and do it. I saw a kid in warmups kneeling with friends -- he must of been 12 or 13 --with little pools at his knees. You can see them; all you have to do is look. Give a kid half a chance. January 14 Doug is a stich. We are standing in the garage waiting for the bus which will be there in a second and Doug, who has his hands on the window sill and sort of leans toward it, pees his pants. Oh,Oh!, he says and makes a beeline for the house. In a minute he is back and the bus comes. Boy his mother must be a real fast-change artist! Cyril didn't shower this morning. He smells so good I want to bury my face in his something or other. I wonder if the kids will notice. If they did, they didn't say anything, or if they did say something, Cyril didn't tell me. I realized today that just because the state of Cyril's legs is of great importance to me, it's not necessarily to him. It's true, I guess. Sometimes he doesn't really think about it one way or the other. It was almost zero today so we played in the Decker's game room. Eagle-eye Mrs. D checked in just as Cyril was starting to pretzel his legs and hold himself so she sent him to the toilet. What a waste! No luck! January 15 Cyril stayed home from school today with a cold. I went over after school to see how he was and Mrs. Decker said he was contagious. I told her I never get colds but she was set in her decision. January 16 Still no Cyril. Bad cold. School is a bore. I have decided to drink three glasses of water before going to bed tonight. Mom and Dad will be out playing bridge. I am going to do it for Cyril. Hope he has as good a swim across the driveway. January 17 Cyril was on the bus with the sniffles. He still has his cold but not bad enough to stay home. "I get them all the time," he said. I get cold at night. My mom tucks me in but I still throw off the covers or I get all wrapped up in them. Then I get cold." "I know what you mean.", I said. I was going to tell about last night which must have been a record of some kind in our house. But he changed the subject. Like I said, just because I get turned on doesn't mean he does. It has been a whole week. I'm beginning to wonder if I dreamed all of it. January 19 When I saw Cyril after school there were tear-stains on his face and his jeans looked as though they might have been wet earlier on. I asked him what was the matter and he said they had to take a test where you couldn't leave the room till it was over and he had an accident and some of the sixth graders teased him. The thing about Cyril is that he's not a smart-ass who could tell those guys off. He's not a sissy, either. But he doesn't know how to take care of himself. He trusts people too much. I hope they don't get it in for him. It's hard being a new kid. Built a snow fort from the new snow using old wooden boxes as forms. Then we threw snowballs at cars. One guy stopped and gave us hell. We were very humble and sweet. I could tell that the guy was interested in the same subject I am, because his heart wasn't really in yelling at us and he stared at Cyril and me in the wrong place. We were both wet from the snow but if you were a real expert you could tell Cyril's was partly an inside job. There are ways of telling. This guy was an expert. But he didn't say anything. Just went back to his car. March 2: I started a new journal on January 20 and I have lost it or it has been stolen. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it. What if my Mom or Dad took it? I am so frightened. But maybe I just misplaced it. I have looked everywhere. This one goes in the secret place which I am not even going to name here. The earlier ones as well. So, what happened that month and a half? Well, we went on vacation for two weeks, that was part of it. And boy did I miss Cyril even though we were in Charlotte Amalie and there was a boy on a boat who wet his pants. But that's another story. Cyril stayed over a couple nights and we did our stuff. I overheard Cyril's Mom talking with my Mom about how you stop bedwetting so I know my secret is out. C's Mom said she had found this stuff on the Internet about diapers. A thing called Goodbyes. Weird name. Maybe I'll get to try them. Or maybe Cyril. Anyway, nothing so far. Let's see. Larry broke his arm falling out of the hay loft and he has a cast on. I guess that's most of it. But I pray every night that my other journal is safe! So here I go on this one: March 6: The Decker's dog, Trisket, had puppies. Cyril showed them to me when we were in the barn. One is all black and the others are both black and white. They are really cute and have their eyes still closed. Two of them were nursing and the other one was trying to. "It's called rooting." Cyril said. Well, I shouldn't even write this down but I will. little while later we were playing in the hay up in the loft and got wrestling. I was trying to make Cyril pee his pants and he knew it but he wasn't doing it. I don't think he had to very much. So there we are and all of a sudden I get this idea and start making a noise like the puppies and poking at Cyril with my head. Cyril asks what I'm doing and I say I'm rooting. He laughs and says "But I don't have any tits" and I just keep rooting. Then he catches on in a flash because I'm rooting right between his legs and instead of pretending to push me away like he was before he undoes his buttons and pulls down his underpants. I sniff around a little and then suck on his wiener. He likes it a lot. Then I make this face like something's wrong and he catches on. In a few seconds he quirts a little bit into my mouth and I make happy noises and suck harder. It is real salty and I accidentally swallow some of it, but so far I haven't gotten sick. Most of it I spit out and then go back for more. When it's over, I sit up and act like Trisket panting and hanging my tongue out. He buttons up and pats me on the head and says, "good doggie" and we go outside and work on his bicycle which has a seat that keeps twisting around. March 7 When Cyril and I are the only ones in the back of he bus, which is almost every day for the last ten minutes because Jeanette and Sally get as far away as they can, I keep my hand between his legs and get hard. He gets pretty stiff sometimes too for a little kid but it's hard to feel because of the underpants. He lets me do this most of the time but sometimes he says, "cut it out.' and pushes me away. Today he got up and moved. I guess it was because of the doggie game. When we got off the bus he just walked away and went into his house. I didn't see him all afternoon. I painted my record shelves like I have been meaning to. March 8 I talked to Larry while we were waiting for the bus. Thought I'd let Cyril decide whether he was going to have anything to do with me today. It was hard. He had a pocket electronic baseball game and played by himself. I got on the bus first and sat at the back. Then he came back and sat with me and I could have cried I was so happy. We played with the game and didn't say anything about yesterday. He is so moody! March 9 A new turn of events. Mr. Decker has moved out. Cyril says it's called a trial separation. They didn't fight, said, but they didn't talk to one another very much either, especially recently. He knew something was wrong. So we went out to the barn and he walked around bawling all afternoon until he dried out. I don't mean his pants. They were dry anyway. I mean his tears. Then I said it would be OK and he would have to be the man of the house and other things I heard in movies and I cuddled him like we do in bed. He said he didn't want to be the father, he wanted just to be a little boy who had a father. It was very sad. My mother says it's for real and that she knew it was coming. She and Mrs. D spent most of the day together. guess she cried alot too. March 10 I think Mrs. D is depressed. Cyril says she just sits and stares at the TV. There are dishes in the sink and the beds aren't made. This is serious. Mrs. D is the kind of person who dusts things while she talks to you. March 11 It's real hard right now. Cyril has got it into his head that his mother is depressed because of him, like it was something that he did that got his father to move out. He says he is not going to pee his pants any more. I tell him that he has got it all wrong, that his father didn't move out because of him and that his Mom's not having her problems because of him but I don't get anywhere. He is embarrassed to have me over to the house because it's gotten so dirty. It was three days ago that I was last there. His bed was really bad. And Doug's too. You could practically walk on the air. I guess they all got used to it. Even for me it was a lot and usually one whiff of Cyril in his popcorn perfume gives me a boner. I heard her yelling at Doug one afternoon about being wet. He didn't come out. I asked Cyril why and he changed the subject. What bugs me so much is that Cyril is turning away from me. It breaks my heart. It has been a whole week with Cyril dry. Not nights I don't think because there's nothing he can do about peeing his bed and he still smells pretty good. But days he's dry as a biscuit. I've asked my Mom what is going to happen to Mrs. Decker and she looks very sad. I know she has been over a couple of times to try and help out. Yesterday she was there all afternoon. I think she was doing house-cleaning. She looked sort of the way she does when she's been following a vacuum cleaner, sort of bleary-eyed and her hair out of place. I could be really mean to Cyril. I feel like something really big has been taken away from me. I am really angry that he has reformed. I think he knows and sort of enjoys it. It is a bad thing with us. We play bandits or guns practically every day after school. We sneak up on imaginary enemies. Today Cyril had on a pair of light blue jeans that were pretty tight. He made me so horny. I brought out Cokes and Cyril had his own and finished mine. When he started crossing his legs and dancing I created this super-serious sneak attack. We had to stay low I said. We had been spotted. We were playing in teams that day and it was Ted, I said, who had seen us. They held the barn and we were trying to storm it - Cyril, Larry, Tommy Fister and me. I made them all stay low. Cyril started to get up and I jumped on him, managing to pull up his shirt so I could count waistbands. There were two or three. That made me so happy! I lay next to him with my hand on his back. "Gotta stay low," I said. Well, I could only make this work for awhile. The other guys were wondering what was going on so I sent them in a scouting party. Cyril stood up and put his hands on his hips. He was big time glistening wet. All his front and I could see it start to make little trails down his legs. He didn't say anything but it was like he was saying, " Is that what you wanted? Have a good look." I didn't say anything. March 12 Cyril is so unhappy! He cries at the littlest thing. On the bus this morning I said he really ought to take a shower or the kids would give him a hard time and he started crying. I said I was sorry and he said it wasn't my fault, but that's all he said. It makes me sad to see him like this. On the ride home he talked non-stop about reptiles.(Someone brought a anaconda to his class) and then stopped just like that, and stared out the window. When it was time to get off, I saw the tears, but he hadn't made any noise. I said let's go to the barn and play but he said he had to take care of Carolyn. So that was that. He didn't come out for the rest of the afternoon. March 13 I decided not to say any more about the smell. But even people on the bus noticed. One little kid came up to the seat sniffing like a dog and then acted like he'd faint when he got by Cyril and rolled his eyes. A couple other little kids laughed. I was a little embarrassed. Maybe it's just as well they did it if Cyril gets the message. We played outside after school on our bikes and two sixth graders showed up. They live ten blocks away and I've never seen them around before. They didn't say anything but they stopped out front and whispered to one another. We were in the driveway. The trouble is of course that Cyril had really peed his pants in a big way. I think that's what they came to see, because they turned around and went the way they had come. I asked Cyril if he knew them and he said they were creeps. How come I asked and he said they liked to be big shots and pick on fifth graders. I asked if they had picked on him and he changed the subject. March 14 Cyril did not get the message about the smell and the two sixth graders were there for the reason I thought. I saw them on the playground. They got Cyril away from the building, near the woods and were talking to him. When he tried to walk away they kept him there. Some other kids went over, too. About eight. I knew I should do something but I didn't. To tell the truth I was getting hard for some reason thinking about their picking on him. That's an awful thing to say, but it's true. Finally they walked away and he was there alone, crying. On the bus he didn't say anything about it. He talked about poisonous snakes and looked out the window like the other day. Something has to happen. Things can't go on like this. March 15 Cyril stayed home. I went over after school and he didn't want to let me in. He said his mother wasn't feeling well. I was really determined and I stayed there and said I wouldn't go away till he let me in. I said he was my friend and that he had to tell me what was going on. He said OK he'd come out in a minute, then he closed the door. I waited a minute and opened it up. You never saw such a mess in the kitchen. Food and dirty plates everywhere. The laundry room stunk of you know what and there was a big pile of dirty clothes on the floor. I didn't have time to look, but I think lots of them were peed. Then I closed the door and waited. When Cyril came out he was pretty dirty and his clothes were too. I think his jeans had been through quite a few floods. There were dark lines outside the wet part. We went to the barn and sat there playing with pieces of hay. He wouldn't tell me anything so I thought why talk anyway and so I sat right next to him and put my arms around him. He was like spaghetti. I played the doggie game without the noises but I didn't lick his wiener right away. First I licked his belly and his legs. He was real salty and I loved it. I don't think he's had a bath for a week. When I finally got to the wiener he was hard as a bullet and he held my head with his hands. That was the only thing he did the whole time except whimper a little. At the end I just held him like a baby. March 16 Cyril stayed home again today. Maybe at least someone from school will check up and find out what's going on there. I asked Mom and she said Mrs. D. just wanted to be alone to think things out. She said she had talked to her the day before on the phone. I said the house was a wreck and she said That was none of my business. Whose is it then? March 17 Finally I saw Mrs. D this morning. She was outside in her bathrobe talking with a man and a woman who were picking up Larry and Doug. Both boys looked clean and OK. Cyril was taking two bags of trash out to the cans in the shed. Then he just stood there and watched like he didn't want to be a part of things. His hair was combed, I noticed that and of course I noticed that he was peed and I knew even from where I was watching what he smelled like and how dirty he was. I think this is what is called child abuse. He was out later watching Carolyn play on the swing and I went over. He said the people were his aunt and uncle and the boys were going to stay with them for awhile until his mom got straightened out. I asked him why we couldn't be friends any more and he acted like nothing was wrong and he had to take care of Carolyn," was all he said. Not all the time, I said. "And I have to help out around the house," he said. Maybe I could help out too, I said. No, he said. Mom said I can't have anyone at all in the house. It upsets her. Cyril, I don't care if you hate me for saying this, I said, because I am the only friend you have who knows what's going on for you and you won't let me help even one little bit. But I know what happened at school and why and I'm telling you that you have to take care of yourself. Even if your Mom won't! You really do Cyril!" And then I started to cry, so I walked away. I'm glad I cried. Maybe Cyril will know that I care. March 18 I asked my Mom again to call Mrs. D and see if she could do anything to help. I wanted to tell her about Cyril and how dirty and smelly he was and how the kids at school were picking on him but I couldn't because I know she'd say something cutting like, "Well that happens to little boys who wet their beds'" or something to bring up that topic which we never discuss. I really would stop if I could. wish she knew that someplace. She thinks I'm lazy because I do it in the morning when I wake up. But that doesn't make any difference. I am already wet. How can she not know that? Anyway I wasn't going to write about me. The thing is I convinced her to call Mrs. D and ask if Cyril could go to the mountains with us for spring vacation which starts next Friday. I guess I didn't say before that we have this cabin near Mount Cloyed. Well, Mrs. D said that would be very nice. I couldn't believe it. The question is, "Will Cyril want to go?" March 24 Cyril took a shower! And he was wearing a pair of dress-up pants - chinos that he wears to church sometimes. guess they were the only clean things he had. He didn't smell exactly like a rose but it was a big improvement. "Isn't it great about the cabin?" I said. "I'm not sure I can go", he said. My mouth dropped I think. What? Why not?" You know", he said. And the sort of pleased smile that he had on because of taking the shower went away. Well, didn't know, not right then, but boy, that he thought I did or wanted me to was a lot so I just nodded like a big brother and said, Yeah I know it's really tough but maybe we can make things work out. I think it mattered that I cried. March 20 The bastard, sons of bitches. I could kill them. don't even know what they did this time but when I saw Cyril playing baseball at recess he peed his pants. I know he wouldn't have done it on his own. Not after this morning. On the bus he was dry. I guess he didn't have on lots of underpants. He probably doesn't have ANY! I didn't say anything. A little shrimp came up to the seat and said , "how come you pee your pants, Cyril?" Some older kids in the front who had put him up to it, giggled. Cyril said, "because I like to. Why don't you mind your own business." Well, at least he didn't cry. So here's the picture as best I can piece it together. Mrs. D says Cyril has to go to school because if he doesn't someone will come from the school and visit the house. Does he want that to happen. Of course not. The house is a worse mess than he is. And he doesn't want to do anything that will upset his mother. She's practically a basket case now and all he's got left. If he goes to school he gets whatever Paul and Martin have dreamed up in their sick little heads. When I asked Cyril why he was peeing his pants at school every day, he said that the other kids made him and that was all. What Clement's brother told me is that Martin has something on him that's just between them and has Cyril wrapped right around his finger. It's something he knows, I guess. Well, even if he didn't, Clement's brother says, they could make him just by keeping him away from the toilet. Here are some of the things this kid told me: They are pretending that they are judges and that they are deciding the things Cyril is guilty of. That's how it all started. First they got him to say that he peed his pants. That was the first time I saw him crying. Then they kept on with things. Then they'd get his crimes settled and pass sentence. One was that he had to drink three milks every day at lunch so that he would have more practice trying to hold it in. They told him that you had to have a full bladder to improve the muscles. Well, it's not hard to figure out the result of that. Then they said they had to check his wiener to see if it was normal. So, Clement's brother --by the way his name is Earl-- says they got him down on his back and depantsed him. Then they measured him and poked and pulled and hurt him as much as they could without really doing anything serious. The next time they depantsed him they took his pants and underpants right off. This time he was dry. Then they made him squirt until they said stop and if he didn't stop right then they hit him with some branches on his backside. But while this was going on, Paul was putting red pepper between two pairs of Cyril's underpants just where his wiener would be. Well, I guess he had a good squirt finally even though they were hitting him the whole time, and so it wasn't till later in the day during Social studies that Cyril peed himself a little and the red pepper did its work. Earl says it was very funny because the more he held himself to stop the pain, the worse it was. And the more he peed the worse it was. Finally he was crying so hard they took him to the school nurse and she found the reason. I guess Paul got into trouble at last. But that won't be the end of it.