Carey quickly looked up, trying not to lose concentration on the game.
“Um, Robin gave that to me. She took it when we all went on that hike over the summer.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember that. Man, I had blisters on my feet so bad from that.”
Carey laughed. “That was because you wore those stupid yellow sneakers instead of hiking boots like everyone else. Crap. I died too.” He put the controller down and grabbed the last cookie.
“It’s a nice picture,” Brian commented. “Why’d she only give it to you?”
“I don’t know. She could probably make you a copy.”
Robin lived across the street and down one house from the Reids. Her family only moved in two years prior, but she and Carey hit it off well. And they often went to one another’s house.
Brian grinned. “She’s just sucking up to you.”
“Huh?”
“Come on. You two are always whispering to each other. You gotta know she likes you.”
“No. Really. We’re just friends,” Carey insisted.
“I don’t know man, she’s kind of like a stalker, taking pictures of you when you’re not looking.”
Carey took the picture out of Brian’s hand and placed it back on the desk. “It’s not like that. I told you. We’re just friends.”
“It’s a shame, then. She’s kind of cute. For a girl,” Brian laughed. He glanced at the clock. “My dad told me to be home by eleven. I gotta go.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help on the paper. I hate doing the bibliography.”
“No prob. Besides, it’s my grade on the line too. See ya later!” Brian left Carey in his room and went past the living room on his way out.
“Thank you for the cookies Mrs. Reid,” he smiled. He hesitated then added, “Bye, Mr. Reid.”
“Bye Brian,” Mrs. Reid called.
“Yep,” was all Mr. Reid said.
◆◆◆
Carey picked up the picture of him and Brian. He chuckled to himself when he thought about those bright yellow sneakers again.
It was a nice picture. But Carey wasn’t lying when he said Robin wasn’t stalking him. The truth was, Carey asked her to take the picture. He wanted a more up-to-date picture of the two of them, preferably one in which Brian wasn’t wearing stage make-up, but he felt a little funny getting his picture taken. Brian loved mugging for the camera, though, and always made a big deal about posing. So, Carey asked Robin if she would take one without letting Brian know. He put it back down on the desk and wondered what Brian thought about it. Carey hadn’t really expected him to notice it.
He changed into sleep pants and an undershirt for bed. For some reason, he was particularly tired. He brushed his teeth and got in bed, thankful there was only one more school day before the weekend.
As he lay trying to fall asleep, he thought about the picture. It was his favorite because Brian wasn’t posing or wearing a costume. He was laughing at something Carey could no longer remember, but the image made him smile. Glancing over to his desk, he could just make out several frames in the dim moonlight. Almost all of them were filled with photos of him and Brian together. But having pictures of himself with his best friend was perfectly normal. Even if he did get one of them on the sly.
Chapter 2
Brian sat in the front seat of his mother’s car while she drove him to the dance studio. Every Saturday morning for the past eight years, he’d gone to take various classes in ballet, jazz and most recently, dancing for the theater.
He suddenly remembered something. “Mom, the registration is due today for the next session.”
His mom gave him a sideways glance. “Do you really need to keep taking all these classes?”
“Yeah, if I want to get into any of the good schools.”
“I thought we talked about you going for journalism. You’re such a good writer. And you’d have a better chance at making a career with a degree like that.”
“Mom, you know I want to major in Musical Theater. I have since I was ten.” Brian crossed his arms over his chest.
“It’s not very practical.”
Brian threw his hands up. “I know that. But I still want to try.”
Brian’s mother remained quiet.
“Why did you send me to all these classes if you don’t want me to try and make some kind of career with it?”
“We were thinking it was more of a hobby than a vocation.”
He sat silently, his mouth a thin straight line for the remainder of the ride.
His mom parked the car in the lot of the Roux School of Dance and turned off the engine.
“We just want you to be happy.”
“This makes me happy,” he said. “You know, when I come here, I’m not the gay boy who’s good at dancing. I’m just me, who’s good at dancing.”
“That’s not how your father and I see you,” she frowned.
Brian began to pick at his nails, which had remnants of pale pink nail polish on them. “Do I embarrass you?”
Tears stung his eyes as he waited for an answer. It seemed to take forever for one to come. When he looked up at his mother, he could see that she, too, had tears in her eyes.
“Have your father and I done something to make you think that we’re embarrassed by you?”
“No, but . . .”
“I am so proud of you. Don’t you ever stop believing that. You are an amazing person, an amazing dancer. And I wouldn’t want you to be anything other than who you are.” She put her hand on top of his. “Don’t think me encouraging you to major in journalism is my way of trying to change you. I’m only trying to help you make practical decisions that will affect the rest of your life.”
“I want to be on Broadway. I know it’s a long shot and I’ll probably end up a poor waiter living in a tiny apartment with five other people. But if I don’t even try, I’ll never get there.”
Mrs. Strickland smiled. “Then I guess I’d better register you for the next session.”
“Thanks Mom.” Brian leaned over and hugged his mother, thankful for the most understanding parents a kid could have.
Arriving to class, Brian took off his sweatshirt. Under it, he wore a black fitted tank to go along with his snug dance pants. Through the window, he could see his mother sitting in the waiting room. She sometimes went shopping at a local store during his lessons because it wasn’t worth the time or gas to go all the way home, just to turn around and go back shortly after. Now and then, she would bring a book to read. The room that held ballet classes didn’t have a window, so the parents couldn’t watch. That day, however, she decided to watch the jazz class practice for the recital scheduled for the Christmas show, along with a few of the other parents.
Brian put on his jazz shoes and warmed up by jumping and jogging in place. He stretched and continued to warm up as other students arrived.
The instructor called the dancers for a group warm up. They did their isolation warm ups, then some pirouettes and leaps. Once they were all warmed up, they began their routine. As Brian waited for the music, he glanced out the window to see his mom smiling at him. He held his head high as he prepared to perform.
“You’re Brian’s mother, aren’t you?” one of the women asked her.
“Yes.”
“I’m Tammy.” The woman held out her hand.
“I’m Lori. Nice to meet you.” They shook hands briefly. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know which one is yours.”
“The blonde all the way to the left. Jacqui.”
“Oh, yes, Brian has mentioned her. They’re doing a duet, right?”
Tammy nodded. “Your son is a wonderful dancer.”
“Thank you.” Lori was proud.
“Not all parents would let their boys dance,” Tammy commented.
Lori’s smile faltered. “Why do you say that?”
“You know, a lot of men think boys who dance are going to turn gay. Your husband must be pretty open minded.”
“I suppose so.” L
ori intended to go back to watching the class rather than continue to engage the woman in further conversation. But she couldn’t let it go. “Not that it matters. Brian was gay long before he started taking dance classes.”
“Oh.” Tammy blushed.
“It’s not as though it’s a secret.” Lori smirked, hoping to have made the woman feel stupid. Tammy acted as though she had figured out some big family secret.
Lori hated when people assumed she was trying to keep the fact that Brian was gay under wraps. She chuckled to herself. There was no way they could anyway. She loved her son dearly, but he was not subtle.
On the way home, Mrs. Strickland went on and on about how much he had improved since the last recital.
“Not that you weren’t good before,” she said.
“Okay, Mom, you can stop gushing. You’d think you’ve never seen me dance before.”
“I can’t help it. I could have watched you all day.”
“A lot of it is because of Stas. He’s really helped me.”
Lori Strickland’s brow furrowed. “Is he new?”
“Yeah. He just started here in September. But he hasn’t danced professionally for about 10 years. He used to choreograph for a company somewhere in Florida. But he hated the weather, so he moved back up here. Originally, he’s from the Ukraine or Russia or something like that.”
Lori gave her son a sideways glance. “You seem to know a lot about this Stas.”
“He’s amazing. He helped me improve my posture and arm positioning,” Brian talked excitedly.
“He sounds amazing,” Lori said. There was something in her tone that gave Brian pause.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she tried to sound nonchalant. “You seem to really like this guy, um, instructor.”
“Mom,” Brian whined and rolled his eyes. “He’s like thirty-eight. He’s almost as old as you.”
“Oh, well, he’s ancient,” she joked.
Brian pouted and looked out the window.
“What’s wrong?” Lori asked.
“Nothing,” he said. Then he turned in his seat to face her. “Have you ever assumed Grace has a crush on her violin teacher?”
“That’s what you’re upset about? Because I thought maybe you had a crush on this Stas?”
“And why do you call him this Stas?”
“I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of. And I never assumed Grace had a crush on her violin tutor. She pretty much admitted it herself.”
“What?” Brian grinned. “Grace has a crush on Mr. Warren?” He started laughing.
“Hey, it gets her to practice more,” Lori laughed.
“But you’re okay with that? You didn’t seem to happy when you thought I liked Stas.”
“No, I told her he’s much too old for her. That’s why she has to call him Mr. Warren instead of Jake. He’s only twenty-two, and I’d like to believe he wouldn’t take advantage of a fourteen-year-old, but I have to look out for you guys. It’s my job.”
“Stas isn’t gay. He’s married to another dancer. She injured her knee when she was only twenty-four or twenty-five and her career was done,” Brian told her. “She teaches at a different school part time. I think they both have regular jobs too.”
“You do know an awful lot about him,” Lori commented.
“That’s what I like about him. He always explains why he’s making us do something. Usually, it’s something we don’t want to do. He told us about his wife because she hadn’t warmed up properly the day she got hurt. Then she kept dancing on it because she was afraid to get cut. By the time she went to the doctor, she did so much damage, she needed surgery.”
Lori nodded.
“Plus, the female instructors could tell me what to do, but they couldn’t really show me. They were teaching me like I was a girl. Stas taught me how to hold my arms when I lift. And he changed my leg position.” He chuckled. “I can still only lift the little ones.” He squeezed one of his lithe biceps.
“That’s better than nothing,” Lori smiled. “So, how is your duet going with Jacqui?”
“Good. She’s one of the better dancers. The costumes should be coming in soon. I can’t wait.”
“I can’t wait to see the show. Are you going to invite your friends this time?”
Brian shrugged.
“I bet they would love to see you.”
“Carey’s seen me dance.”
“I’m sure he would still like to go. And Robin has never seen you.”
He looked out the window again. “Maybe.”
◆◆◆
The two weeks before the Christmas concert, Carey and Brian walked home separately. The band practices lasted longer than the choral ones, so Brian walked alone. Thankfully, football season was over, and David and his friends had no reason to stay after school. On his way, he thought about his mother’s suggestion. Maybe he would ask if Carey and Robin wanted to come to his recital.
He knew Carey wasn’t home yet, so he stopped by Robins’ house.
She smiled when she opened the door. “Where’s your other half?” she joked and opened the door wider to let him in.
The warmth from the cold was a relief.
“So, uh, I was wondering,” Brian began. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but my dance recital is next week, and . . .”
“You want me to go?”
He shrugged, seeming uncharacteristically modest. “Only if you want. Not everyone likes that sort of stuff.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, I want to go. Carey says you’re a really good dancer.”
He nodded. “I’m . . . pretty good. But it’s not just me, of course. It’s the whole school. Unfortunately, you’d have to sit through the younger kids’ routines.”
“That’s okay. I’d love to go. Thanks for asking me. Is Carey going? What am I saying, of course Carey is going.”
“I haven’t mentioned it to him yet. But hopefully.”
“When is it?”
“Next Saturday. But you have to get tickets ahead of time. They’re ten dollars,” he said apologetically.
“Where do I get one?” she asked.
“I can order yours when my parents order theirs.”
Robin walked into her kitchen, prompting Brian to follow.
“Let me see if I have a ten.” She rooted through her purse to find her wallet and pulled out two fives. She happily handed them to him.
“Thanks. Sorry it costs money.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just excited to see you dance finally. How come you never asked before?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d be interested. The school musical is one thing. You probably have other friends in it. But this is only me.”
“Well, I can’t wait. What time?”
“It starts at three, but I’d get there by two thirty if I were you. Seats fill up quickly.”
“Okay.”
“I should get going. I’ve got a test tomorrow and I haven’t studied much.” He paused. “Oh, I also wanted to ask you about a picture you gave Carey from hiking last summer.”
“Oh, yeah. What about it?”
“I was wondering if you could print one out for me.”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll try to remember to do that tonight.”
“Thanks. See you in the morning.”
Brian zipped his coat all the way up again and continued walking to his house. He didn’t know why he felt so funny about having his friends at his recital. He would tell anyone he knew about the shows he was in at school. His parents always invited his grandparents, aunts and uncles. Sometimes their friends from before Brian was born would show up, even though they had kids of their own to go see.
He enjoyed performing for others. He wanted to be in musicals on Broadway someday. Though he knew his singing wasn’t the greatest, he had a decent voice. But dancing made him feel alive. When he danced, he danced for himself. And he supposed that made him feel more vulnerable.
At least Robin didn’t laugh at him when he asked her. That was probably his biggest fear, that his friends wouldn’t take it seriously. He didn't want to be just a stereotype because he liked dancing.
Later that evening, he texted Carey about his recital. He should have known Carey would want to go. He never treated him like a stereotype. However, their fight earlier in the school year made him wonder sometimes. He knew Carey was trying to look out for him, in his own way. But it still hurt. He looked at himself in the mirror after getting ready for bed.
Without the eyeliner and jewelry, wearing just a pair of p.j. pants and t-shirt, he looked like everybody else. He wondered if someone who didn’t know him would be able to tell just looking that he was gay. Staring back at his own deep brown eyes, he didn’t think so. Maybe not just by looking.
Carey had asked him why he wore eyeliner and his sister's clothing sometimes.
“To make me cuter. Duh,” he said to himself and laughed.
His phone buzzed, indicating that he received a text. It was from Carey.
Of course I’ll go. Order me a ticket.
Brian turned off his phone and tossed it onto his dresser. He smiled. So, Carey and Robin were both going. He’d have to make sure they got seats next to each other. They both seemed so oblivious as to the super cute couple they could be, if they’d just look beyond the friendship. He’d have to figure out a way to make that happen.
◆◆◆
“Mom, can’t you make it any tighter?” Brian complained.
“That’s as tight as it gets. Did you lose weight?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little. It’s been stressful the past couple of weeks.”
“Maybe I can pin it,” Brian’s mother suggested. She rooted through the junk drawer in the kitchen for a safety pin. “Aha.”
Pulling Brian’s vest of his costume tight, she put the safety pin in and smoothed out the fabric.
“How’s that?”
Brian rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms wide.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said. “Does it look okay or is it all bunchy?”
“There’s a little fold in the back. But it’s black. I don’t think anyone is going to notice,” she said. “Besides, they’ll be too busy looking at you dance.”
Brian and Carey Page 2