He knew that it was wrong to take things that didn’t belong to him, but he couldn’t resist. It was true that he couldn’t get candy or toys any other way, having no money. He thought that he should be able to have the same treats and trinkets that other kids had. So where they paid, he took.

For shoplifting there were only the drug store and the five and dime. That made it doubly hard to get away with it, specially after he had been caught several times at each place. He was watched as carefully as could be, so he had to wait for a distraction. Since it was necessary to take at the right time, sometimes he took things he couldn’t really use. They simply were within reach at the auspicious moment. Stealing had become a habit, like some people twist their hair, or lie about everything even when there’s no reason to. But he did that, too. That was a further bad habit he had, along with truancy and assorted other faults.

Gabriel’s dad had left for parts unknown when he was two. He couldn’t tell you what the fellow looked like, except for his mother saying that he was a lot like his father. She said this when she was angry with him, pretty often in other words. So he imagined that his old man had thick brown hair, and brown eyes, was average sized, very good looking, didn’t show emotion on his face, and frequently got into trouble. His father was probably “incourageble” like he was.

Gabriel had been to court for being “incourageble.” His mother used to spank him, but to little effect. At thirteen, he was too big for that. She was always promising the hometown police that she would do a better job of keeping him in line. It wasn’t that she didn’t try. Only spending every waking moment with him would have worked. Instead, his mother worked at a paying job so that they might have a place to live and food to eat.

The last time Gabriel had been to court, the judge had said that this was the last time he would send him home. So when he was caught trying to set fire to the police station, he was sent to reform school instead.

*****

A guard showed Gabriel to an upper bunk near the far end of one of the dormitories. Behind it was a metal locker where he was to store his newly issued, well worn, clothing of coarse material. A few minutes after the guard left and the teenager was stowing this garb, an older boy entered the drab room, approached and watched him for a while.

To Gabriel, this youth appeared to be a young tough and unfriendly. Being observed made him feel uncomfortable, but he did his best to ignore it and finish putting his things away. When he had done so, the lad with the dark complexion and rolled up shirt sleeves showing bulging biceps came up to him and spoke, not gruffly, but sternly.

“When you get in that bed tonight, be naked. I’m going to check and if I find anything on you, you’ll be sorry.”

*****

Those words plagued Gabriel’s mind for the rest of that day. The older youth had left. Another guard had collected him for interviews with one of the teachers and one of the institution’s supervisors. It was the 1920’s version of orientation. The day passed in a whirl of rule giving, admonishment, and veiled threats.

It was at the evening meal that Gabriel joined the general population for the first time. He sat with the boys from his section of the dormitory. They watched him closely, but did not include him in their chatter. They were taking his measure, and he, theirs. The new kid would have to meet the others one by one. If he was considered reliable; that is, neither a weakling nor a snitch, then he would become a member of the group.

When it was time for lights out, the youngster watched the other boys get ready to hit the sack. They wore their underwear, as he had supposed they would. Gabriel got into bed the same way. He didn’t want to call attention to himself by doing something they would consider weird.

Neither did he want to incur the wrath of the young thug who had accosted him earlier in the day. So once in bed and the lights went out, Gabriel slowly pulled his T-shirt up to his arm pits. Then he shifted from his back to his front as though turning over for greater comfort. He reached behind himself and pulled the shirt over his head from the back. It was then an easy matter to take it off completely, bunch it up and stuff it under his pillow.

His briefs took more time and planning. First he shifted into a fetal position and pushed them down and below his knees. Straightening back out he brought one foot up and snagged the cotton fabric with his big toe. This enabled the kid to pull his briefs down to his feet and to free them one at a time. Then hooking the material again he brought his underpants back up as far as he could, before reaching down and retrieving them by hand. They joined his T-shirt under his pillow. All this was done very slowly, so that no one would notice anything unusual going on. In the morning Gabriel could reverse the process and get up looking like everyone else.

Finally the youngster stretched out on his stomach. That way the older boy wouldn’t be able to touch his privates when he came to check, if he came to check. At the time Gabriel thought that this made sense.

Resigning himself to the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep, the youth made no effort to stop the flow of thoughts that streamed through his mind. So much had happened to him that day. Having only a vague idea of what would occur during the next week made him uneasy. Then too, he was listening for any sound that would indicate the approach of the young hood. There weren’t any. Gabriel waited and listened.

Even though there wasn’t any sound, suddenly Gabriel knew that the older boy had arrived and was standing near him. He listened more intently, but heard nothing. He concentrated on feigning sleep and this enabled him not to flinch when a hand touched his shoulder, then slid down the length of his back and over his buttocks.

The hand was removed just prior to the rough, brown blanket and faded green sheet being stripped back. The metal bunk creaked with the weight of the older boy as he climbed up. Gabriel’s legs were pushed apart and he felt the thin mattress and springs sag as the bully knelt between them. Then he heard sounds that made no sense to him, it was as though someone was working up spit and drooling.

This mystery was resolved and a new one presented, when Gabriel felt a wet hand applied to his bottom. He was much too frightened to resist the older boy’s entry into his body. The whole procedure was done slowly in order to minimize the noise produced by the creaky, metal bunk bed. The youngster kept silent, knowing that a beating would surely follow any outcry.

Hot breath came in waves against his cheek and ear as he bore this assault upon his person. It seemed to go on and on. But at last there was a sharp intake of air by his assailant, a stifled gasp, and the action ceased. He imagined that he could feel the pounding of the bigger boy’s heart pressed against his back, but it might have only been labored breathing.

Then words were whispered into his ear. “All right, you did OK,” followed by a sharp rap of knuckles against the side of his cranium.

*****

Gabriel didn’t bother trying to be quiet while he got back into his underwear. As quiet as the thug had been, some of the other boys must have heard and understood what was happening. The teenager knew better than to think that anything special occurred in his life. Then he slept, not long, but deeply.

In the morning, shamefaced, Gabriel got up with the rest, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The latrine was located at the other end of the barracks style dormitory. A row of sinks faced a row of toilets in stalls with no doors. Looking up to search for an open place at one of the sinks he found himself under the gaze of his assailant of the night before.

The older boy signaled Gabriel to come to him. The youngster noticed that none of the other boys were looking at him either. They were scrupulous in minding their own business and quiet communication with one or two friends. He was relieved not to be the subject of ridicule as he had expected.

Reluctantly and slowly he covered the distance to his foe, not daring to attempt opposition. “Get in here and brush your teeth,” the young delinquent told him, making room for Gabriel to share his sink. While the youngster bushed, the older youth continued giving his orders.

“You’re to stay close to me, except when you’re in class. If anyone else touches you, tell me at once. I’ll take care of them. If you don’t tell me, I’ll take care of you.”

*****

Gabriel soon learned that Joe was the top delinquent at this reformatory. No one among the inmates challenged his authority. His superiority in strength and fighting skill had been demonstrated to everyone’s satisfaction. This was due, in part, to Joe spending free time every day lifting weights. As his assistant, Gabriel attended these workouts.

The youngster was required to help change the weights. Joe made him lift as well, pushing him to try harder, do better. Life slipped into a routine of meals, classes, workouts, bedtime. For a long while, nothing was altered from one day to the next.

Now and then a boy was discharged from reform school, usually because he had turned eighteen. Now and then a boy arrived and found his place in the pecking order, sometimes with a struggle. It was one of these that changed things for Gabriel.

He and his tormentor were in the weight room when a new kid, who thought he was tough and clever tried to attack Joe from behind. Without thinking, Gabriel hollered, “Look out!” Using the information contained in the younger boy’s expression and the direction he was looking, Joe couched, wheeled, and charged. He caught his oncoming antagonist in the midriff, butting him with his own head. The iron rod of a dumbbell his assailant had planned to use as a weapon clanged harmlessly to the floor. Joe threw the scoundrel against the nearest wall. Straightening up, he landed a quick left and right to the face. Gabriel saw a tooth fly out of the other boy’s mouth and land six feet away on the floor.

*****

That night, after getting screwed, Gabriel was rolled onto his side and the older boy masturbated him. “If you tell anyone I touched your dick, I’ll beat the crap out of you,” Joe whispered into his ear. He received the usual rap on the noggin, and then was left alone.

Gabriel asked himself why he had warned Joe of the imminent attack. He knew that he wouldn’t have, if he had had time to think about it. The young thug had intimidated him, bullied him. On the other hand, Joe had protected him from what he saw going on around him. Younger boys were always having to defend themselves, and being beaten up more often than not. Most didn’t have a permanent defender, but were passed around instead.

The change in their relationship was subtle, except in bed. Probably no one else noticed it. They became a team. Joe would ask rather than tell Gabriel to do things for him, though not in so many words. The difference was more in tone of voice, a look rather than a tongue that said please.

*****

“I’ll be leaving here soon,” Joe said to him one day. Gabriel knew this already. Joe would be eighteen in a month.

“There’ll be a struggle to take my place.” The younger boy hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. The order of supremacy below Joe was less well defined. Three or four boys might have aspirations to succeed to the top position, and it couldn’t be shared peacefully.

“One of them will try to take you over. Maybe more than one.”

“Shit,” Gabriel said. He recognized at once that Joe was right. He had become a symbol of office. The boy who had control of him would be seen by the others as a leader.

“You shouldn’t go along with it until they finish brawling among themselves. If you get involved with one of the losers, you’ll be a looser too.” Unstated, but understood, was the idea that Gabriel wouldn’t have any choice but to be the boy of the winner.

“You’ll probably have to fight,” Joe said.

“Damn,” Gabriel said.

“I’ll teach you what to do. You’re plenty strong enough.”

That was true. Over the last three years, Gabriel had grown taller and heavier. He had caught up with Joe in the amount he could lift. Now they used the nearly the same weights in their workouts. On some exercises, the younger boy used more. But he didn’t know much about fighting.

*****

It was Eddie who made the first move on Gabriel. He tried to pin Gabriel against the wall of an unmonitored corridor and got a knee in the groin for his trouble. This made Eddie angry and the next day he sucker punched Gabriel outside the mess hall.

This was how Gabriel discovered his special advantage. He could take a punch better than anyone else. He sprang to his feet in time to avoid a kick aimed at his head. Grabbing Eddie’s foot and using his exceptional strength, Gabriel gave it a twist, throwing his assailant to the left. Then he quickly jerked the foot back in the other direction and heard a sickening crack as the boy’s knee snapped.

Knowing that an attacker couldn’t easily disable him, gave Gabriel an important advantage. He could afford to take a blow if it gave him an opening to strike back effectively. The next boy got his jaw broken in two places. Gabriel had taken out two of the four candidates for leadership.

A kid called Frankie came up to him during a break in classes. “You’re going to have to whip the other two you know.” Frankie was the same age Gabriel had been when he first came to reform school. But this kid was smaller, too cute and too much of a smart ass for his own good. He’d had a rough time of it so far.

“Nah, they can settle it between themselves,” Gabriel maintained.

“No they can’t. Maybe one to them will beat up the other, but the winner will have to take you on. Otherwise everyone will think he’s chicken, that maybe you’re the boss. And now, most of the kids want you to come out on top.”

“Why me?”

“’cause you’re not mean.” After a pause, “I could help.”

“How’s that?”

“I could be your boy, watch your back like you did for Joe. And I’ll suck your dick or you can fuck me, whichever.”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. He was still thinking of himself as Joe’s boy, not having one.

“Until you have a boy of your own, someone will always be trying to take you over. Which of those two do you prefer?”

Put that way, Gabriel understood. He didn’t ‘prefer’ either of them. He wasn’t sure that he even ‘preferred’ Joe. It hadn’t really been a choice, not in the ordinary sense of that word.

*****

Gabriel was top boy until it was his turn to leave reform school. During that time, he became very fond of Frankie. But when he tried to kiss his mouth, the boy twisted away.

“I really like you, Gabe. You know that. But I’m not queer like you are,” he explained. Until that moment, Gabriel had thought that he had simply been adjusting to the situation in which he found himself. But Frankie’s refusal of affection pained him. It was the hurt that told him who he was.

When he left the institution he looked up Joe. He found the young man pumping gas, patching tires and doing oil changes at a particularly dirty garage. Joe seemed smaller than Gabriel remembered, diminished somehow, and not particularly glad to see him. They had lunch together and then Gabriel left without their forming any plan to see each other again.

Frankie never made it out of reform school. An injury led to an infection that couldn’t be controlled. Pneumonia finished him off.

Gabriel hit the street right at the beginning of the great depression. No honest work being available, he went on the road. There were lots of folks doing the same thing, among them lots of boys. Some of them liked to be kissed, so he’d team up with one for as long as the lad wanted to stay with him.

His ability at shoplifting, and other survival skills provided a sustainable life for two. Lots of stories were told around campfires in the woods and Gabriel heard of a place in New York City called “The Village” or “Greenwich Village” where people like himself made a sort of home. That next spring, he and his companion of the moment wound their way northeast.

Once there, Gabriel would do almost anything that would bring in a little money. This enabled him to provide food and shelter for a succession of boy artists, poets and writers. Long gone now, he appears only as a character in their works.