Wrong Boy RightGENRE Gay • Young Adult Romance • Print Anthology
PUBLISHER JMS Books LLC
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BLURBSometimes it feels right, even when it’s wrong.
In this collection of stories about young gay love, authors Drew Hunt and Terry O’Reilly explore different aspects of what it’s like to develop strong feelings for the wrong guy.
Four stories, four different outcomes.
Contains the stories:
* Milton's Hero by Drew Hunt
* Milton's Ultimate Hero by Drew Hunt
* Ricky by Terry O’Reilly
* The Batboy by Terry O’Reilly.
- From The Batboy--Thad loved baseball. He couldn’t remember not loving it. He’d seen pictures of himself swinging a wiffle bat and hitting a ball over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. His dad still proudly showed off the pics saying, “Baseball’s in his blood.” Thad had been two when those pictures were taken. He’d gone on to play T-Ball, little league, pony league, and for his high school baseball team. When he went to college he planned on playing there, too. He hoped for a career as a ball player after that.
This would be the last year he would be eligible to be a batboy. Fourteen to seventeen was the age range the Buzzards’ organization had set for their batboy squad. He was seventeen. He’d applied for the last three years and every year he’d gotten a letter thanking him for his interest, reminding him that over a hundred kids applied so not to be discouraged, and to think about trying again next year. This time there would be no next year, however. It was now or never.
Damn! Maybe I shoulda put in more time on that “Why I want to be a batboy” essay they wanted. Just seemed like a dumb idea to me. I write the same thing every year. Bet everyone says the same stupid stuff. “I want to be a batboy cause I love baseball and think the Buzzards are a wonderful team and I’d really like to be part of it,” and crap like that. He sighed.
Just then the door opened and his mother came in. She set her basket of laundry on top of his dresser, opened the drawers, and proceeded to put away his clean socks and underwear. When she was done she turned, leaned on the bureau and smiled at her son.
“Don’t give up just yet,” she told him. “It hasn’t been that long since you applied. I’m sure it will all turn out okay for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. Yeah, well, I hope you’re right,” Thad said, trying to sound grateful for the encouragement but feeling down inside that it was a lost cause.
Mrs. Stevens smiled again, went to his closet, hung up a couple of shirts, then went to the door.
“Remember, a dream is a wish your heart makes. And wishes can come true,” she said with a cheeriness that rankled Thad. He tried not to roll his eyes at her sappy attempt to make him feel better.
After she left Thad looked around his room. The decorations were a testimony to the dream his heart had been wishing for as long as he could remember. It was adorned with posters of pro-ball players, pennants of teams he liked, and some autographed pictures of the guys who played for the Buzzards. One in particular always caught his eye, Ignacio Hernandez; Iggy the fans called him.
Iggy was Thad’s idol. He played shortstop. The same position Thad played on his high school team. Iggy was a great batter: had an over three hundred average. But it wasn’t only his baseball prowess that intrigued the young man.