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.