Burning Britely

by Deidre Huesmann

  He swallowed, hard, and peered into his bag.

  The bell rang.

  His blood ran cold.

  My newspaper binder.

  “Shit,” he whispered. He jerked his head toward the cafeteria. It was back there. With Braeden. He must have knocked it out of his bag.

  Jeff slammed his palm against the locker. He ignored the strange looks his peers gave him and wracked his brain. The probability of it still being there wasn’t good, maybe twelve percent, but it was possible everybody had been so wrapped up in their conversations that no one had noticed or cared to pick it up.

  He closed the door, spun the lock, and hoisted his bag back over his shoulders. He pushed against the wave of students. As he emerged into the cafeteria, the last of his peers filtering out, a quick scan dashed his hopes. The only debris on the floor were food bits, plastic silverware, and a couple soda bottles. Two cooks wiped down the tables, but all they held were wet, soapy rags.

  “Jeffy?”

  He rubbed his mouth. “Mm.”

  Maya tugged on his arm until he turned her way. Her fine eyebrows were closed, as though drawn together by tiny magnets. “You’re going to be late. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  He shook his head. But he did feel like throwing up.

  “Jeffy, what happened?”

  “It’s gone,” he whispered.

  She stared at him.

  “The letter.” Jeff pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I left it in a binder. I must’ve dropped it at lunch.”

  Maya sucked on her lower lip. Her fingers tensed on his arm, then relaxed. “Maybe someone turned it in to lost and found.” She tugged him again, gently. “Come on. We can check after school. Nothing you can do about it now.”

  She was right. Even so, the tight feeling in his chest didn’t leave. His nerves felt like overtightened piano strings. If he said anything, he probably would be sick.

  “Come on, Jeffy.”

  He nodded and headed back, each step as heavy as a boulder on the cheap tile.

  It was a good thing he made a habit out of getting ahead on schoolwork, because Jeff couldn’t focus on his classes. His mind went back to the lunchroom. He played the scene in his mind. Replayed it. Each time Carrie arrived, his nails bit into his palms. When he stormed out, his breath hitched, and bile rose in his throat.

  He’d signed his name on the letter. Signed his damned name.

  I’m such an idiot.

  It was hard to act normal. Every time someone so much as glanced his way, Jeff wondered if they knew, if his secret was out.

  The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough. His fingers fumbled with the locker dial. He felt like he’d been up all night cramming for a test while chugging coffee. Wired. Sick.

  And terrified.

  Lowry High was an unusual high school, and not just when it came to sports. Jeff’s father was far from the only man in the Navy. Lots of Navy kids went to school here, and their blood tended to run conservative red. He knew damn well what they thought of gays. In a lot of ways, as a boy, being bi was worse. If bisexual girls were accused of being greedy, bisexual boys were accused of being confused and sick in the head.

  Jeff wasn’t ashamed of his leanings. Not at all. He was scared sick, though. He had already experienced bullying first-hand—and that had been for being short.

  This was a new ballgame.

  Maya caught up with him on the way to the office. “Jeffy, wait!”

  “Can’t,” he said. “Got to hurry so we don’t miss the bus.”

  “I know.” She thumped him on the back of the head with something long and flat. Jeff blinked as she shoved a binder into his hand—a familiar one. “Look, we got lucky. Julie gave this to me last period.”

  Jeff’s hackles rose. “Julie had it?”

  Maya’s face fell. “It’s a good thing,” she said softly. “She’s really not that bad.”

  He wasn’t so sure. “So she just happened to come across it right after she makes friends with you.”

  “Not exactly.” She nodded toward the entrance. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

  Jeff exhaled between his teeth and tightened his grip on the binder. They began a speed-walk for the front door. “Was everything in there?”

  Maya made a small noise in her throat. “I didn’t want to check. Just in case someone got curious.”

  That was the smart response.

  Jeff nodded.

  They emerged into a mockingly sunny afternoon. Jeff hated it. Like the warmth was curdling his intestines.

  She gave him a light punch on the arm. “Call me, okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jeff boarded his bus and found an empty seat next to a sleepy-looking girl. He placed the backpack in his lap and tucked the binder inside. He couldn’t check here. Even if an innocent person caught a glance on accident, there was enough one could gather from a split second.

  Bus rides home were always torturously slow, but this one seemed to take longer than usual. Jeff tried to keep his knees from bouncing, especially when his leg bumped his cranky seatmate awake. It was an exercise in futility.

  When he hopped off the bus and hurried home, Jeff’s heart picked up. Please be there. He fumbled with the key. Please be there, still. Please let Maya be right.

  He opened the door, barely remembering to close it. He ran to his room and dumped the backpack’s contents onto his bed. He snatched up the binder, opened it, and rifled through the pages.

  It’s here.

  He could have collapsed from relief. “Geez,” he said to himself. The bliss of all his anxieties going up in smoke left him with little choice but to laugh. The paper was there, just as he’d left it, completely smooth and untouched.

  The likelihood Maya was home was slim, but he hurried to the kitchen anyway. He grabbed the phone off the wall—they couldn’t afford to put him on a family plan—and dialed Maya’s number. He got her chirpy voicemail and left a message. “Everything was there. You were right. I’m giving Julie the biggest mental apology ever right now.” He leaned against the counter, grinning like an idiot. “Thanks a ton, Maya.”

  He cradled the phone. Now that the scare had jump-started his heart, he knew he needed to burn that letter. The thought of Braeden finding out had scared the crap out of him, and he certainly wasn’t ready to announce his sexual preferences to the world. Not that it was the world’s business, anyway.

  Definitely have to burn it.

  Decided, he went back to his room and grabbed the paper. They didn’t have a fireplace. His mother would kill him for burning anything inside the house, but he figured in the sink wouldn’t be awful. That way he could turn on the faucet if it looked even remotely like it might get out of hand.

  Jeff was digging through the supplies drawer for a candle lighter when the phone rang. He paused in his rifling to answer. Probably Mom. Going to be home late again. “Yeah?”

  “Jeffy…”

  Alarm bells went off. Maya sounded weak, almost frightened. That wasn’t like her. His grip tightened on the phone, and his teeth tried to bite down on his words. “What’s wrong?”

  Silence.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Silence. A sharp intake of breath.

  “Maya?”

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted. Her voice wavered. Like she was crying.

  Jeff’s mind went blank. “For what?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Maya took a few shuddering breaths. “You were right. I shouldn’t have trusted Julie.”

  “Why?”

  But he knew.

  There was no other explanation.

  “Your letter’s all over the Fire Wall. Jeffy … she took a picture. Then sent it to Carrie, and Carrie went nuts. Anyone who doesn’t know now will by tomorrow.”

  Jeff closed his eyes.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Jeffy,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

  But he hardly heard. Hardly heard his own voice murmuring soothing words, hardly noticed he was
the one comforting her. Hardly noticed he’d sunk to the floor and was in the middle of chewing off his thumbnail, a nervous habit he’d long since kicked.

  All he could think was, At least it was nice while it lasted.

  Chapter Ten

  Going to school was suicide. He knew it. Yet no matter how many times Jeff considered backing out, his proverbial heels dug in deep. He was so close to making valedictorian. Only one more year to go.

  And so what if his secret was out? Sure, it was a red-blooded town, but that didn’t mean every last person living here was a bigot. Maya wasn’t. There had to be more.

  He packed his school bag the same as any other day. Cleaned his glasses, the same as any other day. Put on his pants and laced up his hiking boots … the same as any other day.

  It just wasn’t any other day. There was a wild card. The Fire Wall rumor. No—not even rumor. His damned name was on the paper. In his handwriting.

  Stupid, foolish, idiotic, amateur mistake, leaving the letter in the binder. All because he thought he was smarter than everyone else. That everyone else made those dumb mistakes, not him. Because he’d assumed he was immune to emotional reactions.

  He couldn’t even blame Braeden, much as part of him wanted to.

  Jeff stopped dead in his tracks, backpack slung over one shoulder, his gaze unseeing.

  Braeden has to know by now.

  He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

  Going to have to face him sooner or later.

  He closed his bedroom door behind him. It felt strangely final. Even if he returned home in one piece, there was no way he would see the world the same again. It was already shifting around him, wavering, transforming into something new.

  But he couldn’t transfer. Not again. He’d rather get his ass kicked than move schools in his junior year.

  I’m not going to die. It’s a military town, not the sticks. I’ll be fine.

  Maybe.

  When he boarded the bus, it seemed oddly quiet. Or was it? He hadn’t much paid attention to his peers before. There were plenty of empty seats, so he found one. Nobody reacted when he passed them. Yet few spoke, either. A lot of them were whispering.

  They could be tired, he reasoned. There were days like that, where it seemed like a communal gloom hung over everyone.

  Or they could have access to the Fire Wall.

  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the window.

  Don’t overthink it. Just get through it.

  No matter how many times he told himself that, the knot in his stomach tightened and rolled and tightened some more.

  Nobody sat next to him that day. Also not necessarily weird. Some days more people seemed sick than others.

  I told Braeden I loved him. I signed my name.

  At school, he walked in a cloud of dazed paranoia. Was he getting more sideways looks than usual? Were people veering out of the way on purpose?

  “Jeffy.”

  Maya’s voice startled him. He glanced at her. “Morning.”

  Her eyes were rimmed red, like she’d been crying all night. It only worsened the knotted sensations in his gut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “Not your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t made friends with Julie—”

  “Maya, stop.” Jeff turned to her and grasped her wrists. He leaned his head against hers, briefly. “I’m not going to be mad that you tried to be a good person. Okay?”

  “But it’s my fault.” Her eyes darted around, nervous. “You were right.”

  Jeff stepped back and shook his head. “Sometimes, I really wish I wasn’t.”

  She drew a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll walk with you today, okay?”

  That meant more than she could have known. Jeff nodded, once. “Yeah.”

  There was nothing more to be said. Talking about it wasn’t wise. And while Jeff was curious about what comments the Fire Wall post had garnered, he also didn’t want to know. He could guess the gist of them.

  Without a word said between them, they went to Maya’s locker first. Jeff stood a respectable two feet away to give her and the others room.

  Someone jostled his shoulder. Jeff stumbled. A guy laughed as he walked away, and Jeff heard the word: “Queer.”

  He closed his eyes. Ignore him. Just breathe.

  Maya closed her locker and joined him. She observed him closely. “You okay?”

  She hadn’t heard. No reason to freak her out now. He nodded.

  They walked to his locker without further incident. Maya gave him the same respectable two feet. Yet all he heard was the asshole’s comment in his head, whirling in a loop.

  Jeff spun the dial on his lock without seeing it. People knew. There was nothing to be done at this juncture. The school wouldn’t do anything about it—as proven in their history—so he had to figure out how to deal with the new situation. Had to find some way to get by.

  If his mother found out, she’d want to transfer him. And it still wasn’t an option. Not when he was so close to making valedictorian. Just a little more than a year left.

  He traded his books, traded his carefully labeled binders of notes.

  “Jeff!”

  He barely registered Maya’s shout before the locker door slammed into the side of his head.

  With a curse, Jeff jerked away. His hand reflexively went to his temple. He checked for blood and came away with a small smear. Soon to get bigger, he knew.

  A guy laughed. “Sorry, faggot. Didn’t see you there.”

  Before Jeff could react, Maya shoved the guy. “Fuck you, Rob! You did that on purpose.”

  Rob. Braeden’s friend. Jeff’s heart twisted.

  Rob sneered down at her. “Prove it, you dyke bitch.”

  “Asshole,” she spat.

  Jeff shook his head and pulled at Maya’s arm. “C’mon. Don’t let this prick make us late.”

  He closed his locker door—properly—and tried to leave, but Rob sidestepped in front of them. “Didn’t you hear me?” he said. “I called you a faggot.”

  Instinct kicked in. Jeff maneuvered so Maya was behind him, despite her protests. She was almost flat against the lockers. There was no escape, he realized from a quick glance around. A couple other guys blocked one way and Rob was large enough to obstruct their path. Cronies, thought Jeff in disgust. People like Rob couldn’t survive high school without them.

  Rob stopped smiling. “Hey.”

  Jeff said nothing.

  Maya nudged his back and whispered, “I’ll whip his butt.”

  Jeff shook his head. “No,” he said through the side of his mouth. “They’ll kick you out of the dojo if you’re caught fighting here.”

  Maya didn’t have an answer to that. Her hand bunched the back of his shirt into a ball.

  “Hey,” repeated Rob. “How many times do I have to call you a faggot?”

  “Preferably none,” said Jeff.

  Rob shoved him. Jeff did his best to remain upright, rigid. Don’t fall on Maya. Don’t hurt her.

  “Why else did you write that letter, faggot?”

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” said Jeff. His voice came pressed, like a steamroller had flattened his words on the way out.

  “The letter to Britely,” piped up one of Rob’s friends.

  “Your name was on it, dumbass,” said Rob. “Everyone knows it was you. Ain’t no girl that wrote it, and you’ve been caught staring at dudes in gym class. Fucking queer.”

  Jeff said nothing.

  “You got anything to say to that? Prove you’re not a faggot?”

  “Why?” asked Jeff quietly. “No one asks you to prove you’re not a fucking idiot, but it’s just as obvious.”

  Unlike with Brenda, Jeff saw this punch coming. But, also unlike with Brenda, he had no intention of dodging. Maya was still behind him. So when Rob’s sharp-knuckled fist met with his nose, it was all he could do not to pitch forward and leave her vulnerable.

  Maya sho
uted. She jerked behind him, her hand releasing his shirt, and Jeff realized one of Rob’s buddies had grabbed her. He spun, ignoring Rob’s second attempt to hit him, and grabbed Maya back. The momentum threw off Rob’s cronies and they let her go.

  Jeff snarled. “Don’t touch her!”

  “Fuck you,” screamed Rob.

  Trapped. Nowhere to go. Unsafe. People running. Watching. Not going to help.

  Jeff shoved Maya to the floor and wrapped his arms around her torso, hugging her back to his stomach. She was his size, so he couldn’t fully protect her, but no one was going to grab her now.

  “Jeff,” she shrieked. “Let go!”

  No. They’ll just grab you again.

  Someone kicked him with the flat of their shoe against his back. His legs. A punch to the head.

  My turn to help you.

  He distantly thought to himself that he’d have to tell her his thought process later, because once this was all over, she would be furious.

  Maya was screaming.

  Students were yelling.

  Epithets, slurs, curses, and somewhere among them, Jeff recognized something he didn’t remember from elementary school:

  Allies.

  “What the eff, Rob?”

  “Leave them alone, you assholes!”

  “Homophobe!”

  Jeff clung tighter to Maya. The side of his head stung and throbbed where the locker had hit him.

  Then there was a brief moment of swelling silence, like the momentum had lifted, and then there was a loud crash of something heavy into the metal lockers. Jeff didn’t dare move for the three heartbeats it took him to realize no one was hitting him anymore, and the angry shouts turned positive.

  He glanced to the right.

  Track shoes. Clean. Neat. Brand new. Tanned legs.

  He swallowed.

  “Thank God,” breathed Maya.

  Jeff loosened his hold but didn’t let her go, couldn’t afford to. He looked over and up to find Braeden had pinned Rob to the lockers, one hand twisting Rob’s hoodie into a knot just below his throat.