Page 2 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

At six o'clock in the morning, Los Angeles remained shrouded in a cool, foggy gloom. My best and only friend Bobby drove his rusted white Volkswagen Beetle down the pothole-laden streets.

His skin was darker than mine, and his black Afro puffed up higher than my slightly messy dark-brown hair.

I kept my dress code like everyone else.

A tie-dye shirt would be righteous, but it'd get me beaten up again.

California was laid-back, but these are dangerous times. That's what my paperbacks say.

Bobby's emerald-green eyes fixed on the asphalt ahead, waiting.

"I wasn't really thrown out." He nodded with a noncommittal grunt. More like leaving before someone makes me.

He'd listen and that's the irony, because I couldn't tell him everything. Maybe there was no need. He never asked me about girlfriends or if I thought a girl was pretty.

Although I've never seen him with one, so what's the reason?

Years back, Bobby told me being half-Black meant both sides harassed him.

He played football and joined the art club for popularity and eventually dropped out.

I never bothered him or needed him to be anything more.

He was Bobby, my pal, and that's enough.

"My uncle," I said. "He told me it would be best for my mother since 'I'm a Vietnam coward and shaming her.' I'm eighteen and it's time to go out." I paused. "It's for the best, you know? I don't want my mom to deal… with the finances."

He nodded, not agreeing but showing he heard.

I took a deep breath. "And no more stories."

His jaw tightened. "Did your uncle do anything?"

"Not this time," I said softly. "Just yelled I should go to Vietnam because it would make a man out of me."

His eyebrows rose. "Would you?"

"Hell no, I won't go!" I chanted, then flashed a two-finger peace sign.

His full lips curled into a slight smile. "You know, you don't seem like a hippie. You give gestures and repeat the sayings, but where's the long hair, beads, or those tie-dye shirts?"

"Peace comes from within," I quoted.

He drove in silence for another city street before speaking. "I heard Nixon might draft people. They say if you're in college, they won't get you, but I can't afford it and some schools won't want me…"

"Then don't go."

"TV says they're our enemy."

"They're over there, and we're here. What are they going to do?"

"My dad said the Soviets want to nuke us, so we have to go there to stop them. It's a show of strength."

"It's better not to fight," I said. "If they had a war and nobody showed up, there'd be nothing."

"Yeah, but if one side does, and the other doesn't, they win."

"Nobody wins in a war," I replied firmly.

"Sometimes you have to fight."

"There's other ways." I pulled a weathered, green book with an abstract marble statue on the cover from my backpack. " Stranger in a Strange Land. People like Heinlein and those they inspire are going to make a brave new world. They're fighting, but it's like, you know, elevated."

"And what happens? They die. John and Robert Kennedy? Gone. Malcolm? Doctor King? All dead."

"Others will step up."

"You?"

"Sure. There's a revolution just over the horizon, and it'll be like in those novels with everyone coming together. Then, no limit. We'll go into space and have colonies on Mars by the eighties. It'll be a paradise."

He gave another noncommittal nod. "I might as well sign up, 'cause there's nothing for me here. I can't wait for Mars." His Adam's apple bobbed out. "I can go before the fighting gets bad, and they say Vietnam won't last long." He paused. "We could both go and look out for each other."

Like high school.

"Not calling you a sissy, you know. I'm scared, too."

"I'd go if I believed in it, I think. I can't fight otherwise."

"I don't think they care what you think, as long as you can hold a rifle and point. They might draft you anyway unless you give them a reason."

My heart pounded. He never said 'that word,' but I heard the military wouldn't take gays.

Would I have to prove I'm not like other guys?

"I'm not , you know?" said Bobby. "I want to have a girl someday."

Despite his words, it felt like he needed a nudge or a question, but I said nothing. He deserved the same respect he gave me.

I nodded at his talk of a wife, and he continued. "My father's right. It would be good to go." His shoulders rose. "I'm not a kid anymore, so it's time to man up and go to war."

***

"Wait a minute!" shouted Kim with a half-finished roast beef sandwich on his plate. "Man up? Make a man out of you? Sissy?" A smooth forehead under a bright red mohawk wrinkled. "What were you? Cavemen?"

Todd's voice deepened. "It was a different time."

"We barely knew what we were," I said softly. "We didn't have decades of looking back on things like Vietnam or gay rights. Stonewall was still a few months away."

"Oh, I read about the riot in history class." His eyes widened. "Were you there? Tell me you threw the brick."

"Sorry, we weren't the heroes from that night, and stuff that's embarrassing now were just a part of life back then. We accepted it, even when it happened to us." My right wrist throbbed, mentally sending me back into memories with a short uncle who wanted men in his family.

Kim and Todd turned to me.

"Smells like dirt and blood here," said Kim.

"It's fear," explained Todd as he gestured for me to come closer. I buried myself in his strong arms and muggy heat. My eyes closed tight in gratitude.

With a deep breath, I opened my eyes and mouthed, 'I love you.' Now wasn't the time for a temporary breakdown because we had a pup to help. After what happened in the seventies, I'll never leave another child behind.

Todd's fingers moved over my head, pressing on key points to prevent a headache later.

Kim was young but smart enough to know I needed a moment. His attention went to my mate. "So, sir? What were you doing?"

"Call me Todd. 'Sir' makes me sound like an old, grey wolf, which I am." He chuckled and shook his head thinking about a younger Alpha equally stupid as his Omega. "Oh, I was defending America from people like Mike."

***