Tales From the Midnight Shift Vol. 1

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  “So you expect me to believe you’re Mr. Popularity?”

  “I don’t really care what you believe. I’m sorry if you were hoping to reconcile some childhood trauma through me, but I’m going to have to disappoint you. Now can I go back to class?”

  Mr. Feldman’s entire body tensed and seemed to shake, like a guitar string pulled too tight and about to break. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just go, but remember that I tried to help you.”

  “Duly noted.” With that, Troy left the office, closing the door a bit harder than necessary.

  * * *

  “Dude, you gotta come quick.”

  Troy suddenly found himself being dragged back down the hall by Joel. “What are you doing, dickhead? The bell’s about to ring, I have to get to Spanish class.”

  “Trust me, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

  Giving up, Troy let himself be led down to the boy’s restroom by the cafeteria. Once inside, Joel practically shoved him into the last stall in the row. He briefly thought about Mr. Feldman’s story of having his head dunked in a toilet, but he shook it off as absurd. He and Joel stood there in the foul-smelling stall for a moment.

  “What am I supposed to be seeing?” Troy finally asked.

  “You blind? That!”

  Troy followed Joel’s pointing finger to the wall just above the toilet tank. There was the usual array of obscene graffiti and nasty limericks scrawled on the walls, but Troy zeroed in on what Joel had brought him in here to see right away. It was new, written in thick black magic marker, impossible to miss.

  “4 GUD BJ CALL TROY, WILL EVEN SWALLOW.” And under that was Troy’s home number.

  “Okay, ha ha, very fucking funny, whose idea of a joke was this?”

  “I swear it wasn’t me,” Joel said while making an X on his chest with a finger, actually crossing his heart like he was ten years old. “Deacon Phelps told me about it, so I rushed right in to see if it was true or not.”

  The bell rang, but Troy was no longer concerned about being tardy for class. He rummaged in his backpack until he found a marker, quickly scribbling over the message. “Jesus Christ, I wonder how many people saw this thing.”

  “Well, I took a dump in this stall after school yesterday and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t here then. And it’s only second period now, so hopefully we got to it before too many people saw.”

  “Yeah, but we know Deacon saw it, and he isn’t exactly the soul of discretion.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Joel said, punching Troy lightly on the shoulder. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna believe you wrote that up there yourself. It’s just some jerk-off fucking around with you.”

  Troy didn’t respond, just stared at the spot where the message had been, now covered over by his own scrawling. He finally stormed out of the stall and the bathroom, followed by Joel. As Troy stalked off toward Spanish class, he didn’t notice Mr. Feldman watching him from down the hall.

  * * *

  At the end of the school day, Troy was still fuming about the message in the bathroom stall. Several people had cracked jokes about it throughout the day, but he just didn’t find much humor in the situation. All he wanted to do was grab his books from his locker and go home.

  “Just let it go,” Jessica said, walking down the hall with him.

  “Let it go? Like it’s just that easy, snap my fingers and it goes away.”

  “It was just someone being a smartass, trying to get under your skin, and you’re letting them have the last laugh by getting this bent out of shape.”

  “How can I not, when I’m attacked like this?”

  “Attacked? Now you’re being a bit of a drama queen, don’t you think? I mean, I bet there are a dozen girls’ names and numbers on the boy’s room walls, am I right?”

  “But this is different.”

  “Man, you really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

  Troy stopped in the middle of the hallway, taking a hold of Jessica’s arm, the student traffic having to divert around them. “What do you mean by that?”

  “For someone so enlightened, you can be awfully obtuse. You need to beef up on your gay history. I mean, as a people gays and lesbians have a long legacy of discrimination and violence, even murder. Have you never heard of Matthew Shepard? And here you are complaining about this one little incident, which is pretty harmless compared to what others have had to put up with. Probably wasn’t even anything malicious to it, just someone’s misguided idea of a joke.”

  Troy considered this, and his mind turned again to Mr. Feldman and the stuff he’d said was done to him when he was a teenager at this school. When viewed next to that, the scrawling on the bathroom stall seemed fairly paltry.

  Nodding, allowing himself to relax a bit, he and Jessica continued down the hall. His locker was just around the next corner, and when they made the turn they immediately stopped again, but out of necessity this time. All traffic had stopped, people gathering in the hall, plugging it up. At first Troy thought maybe there was a fight, but everyone was so quiet. If there was a fight, there’d be screaming and cheering, but there was just an eerie silence. High school hallways were never quiet, especially not at the end of the day.

  A few people seemed to notice Troy standing there, and that was when the whispering started, a murmur that rippled through the crowd, and then people started making a path for him. He and Jessica walked forward, moving slowly, and when he got a good look at his locker, he heard Jessica gasp behind him. Oddly, he felt very little, just a sort of cold numbness spreading throughout his body.

  Someone had spray painted a message on his locker, blood red standing out starkly against the gray metal, seven letters going down vertically.

  F

  A

  G

  G

  O

  T

  Turning toward Jessica, he said, “Still think I’m overreacting?”

  * * *

  Troy had never seen his parents this way before. His mother was sitting on the edge of the sofa, knees primly together, a drink cupped in her hand like a votive candle. Her eyes were red from where she had been crying. His father, in contrast, was a manic ball of energy, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands flailing wildly as he spoke.

  “This is unacceptable, just unacceptable. And you’re telling me the administration has no clue who may have done it?”

  Troy just shrugged. “The paint was still wet, so they figure whoever it was did it not long before the last class let out, but there was no one in the hallway at that time and no one reported seeing anything.”

  “Bullshit! Did they check to see who might have been out of class, with a hall pass to the restroom or something?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. All I know is what I’ve told you.” Although that wasn’t exactly true, he neglected to mention the message scrawled on the bathroom wall; no need to upset them more than they already were.

  Troy’s mom reached out and grabbed her husband’s wrist as he walked past her, and she spoke for the first time in almost half an hour. “Hank, we’ll go speak with Principal Wiggins tomorrow morning. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  His dad finally sat down, but he was still jittering and fidgeting. “Just so cowardly. When we find out who did this, the kid better be booted the hell out of school or I’m going to go ballistic.” And then his dad fixed his gaze on Troy. “In the meantime, I think you better tone it down.”

  Troy blinked. “Tone what down?”

  “You know, the way you dress and talk, your whole…” Finding himself at a loss for words, he flailed with his hands then turned to his wife for help.

  “Your whole demeanor,” Troy’s mom supplied.

  “And what exactly is wrong with my demeanor?”

  “We’re not saying there’s anything wrong with you,” his father said, his mouth pulled down in a grimace as if this conversation were causing him physical pain. “Just maybe it might be a good idea if you weren’t so
…well, obvious.”

  “What, am I Adam Lambert over here or something?”

  “You do have a certain…” Here his dad paused, making a see-sawing motion with his hands. “…a certain sway to your hips when you walk. And then there’s that necklace with the rainbow beads you like to wear so much.”

  “And you’re just so vocal about it,” his mom added. “Maybe you need to keep more under your vest.”

  Troy rose from the ottoman on which he’d been sitting. “What is this? I thought you guys were cool with who I am, that you understood.”

  “We do, honey, we do,” his mom said. “It’s just that there’s a whole wide world outside this house where people aren’t so understanding.”

  His dad stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve never been good with the big picture, son. You need to be aware of what other people are capable of, take their prejudices and ignorance into consideration.”

  “So you’re saying you want me to adjust my behavior to appease the ignorant bigots of the world?”

  “It’s not fair, son, but it is the way the world works. A harsh adult reality that maybe we haven’t prepared you for, and that’s our own failing.”

  “Come on, guys,” Troy said, forcing a laugh. “I think we’re all overreacting a bit. I mean, I’ve never had any real problems before. I mean, before this. I’m sure this is just an isolated incident and it’ll all blow over by the end of the week.”

  “You really think so?” his mom asked, gripping her glass so hard he was afraid she’d shatter it.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  But he could tell from their expressions that his parents weren’t convinced. Truth be told, he hadn’t done a very good job of convincing himself.

  * * *

  Troy was hanging with Jessica at her locker when Brent walked by without even speaking, actually turning his head when Troy raised a hand in a wave.

  “See?” Troy said. “I told you I wasn’t crazy; Brent is avoiding me.”

  “Have you tried talking to him?”

  “That’s a little hard to do when he goes in the opposite direction whenever he sees me coming.”

  “Well, you must have said or done something,” Jessica said, reapplying her lipstick while staring into the small mirror affixed to the inside of her locker with magnets.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m not saying it was anything intentional, but Brent just isn’t the type to give someone the cold shoulder for no reason. Maybe you took one of your jokes a little too far and really hurt his feelings.”

  “You think?”

  Jessica shrugged. “Won’t know unless you ask.”

  Troy thought on that for about thirty seconds, said “You’re right,” then headed off down the hall in the direction Brent had gone. He found him down by the library, standing with a bunch of other football players and a few cheerleaders. Troy stood on the outskirts of the group for a moment, unnoticed, then reached out and tapped Brent on the shoulder.

  The football player was smiling when he turned, but the smile instantly withered when he saw Troy standing behind him. “What do you want?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m kind of busy.”

  “It’ll only take a minute.”

  Brent sighed as if he’d just been asked to donate a vital organ to a stranger, but he excused himself from the group and walked with Troy a few feet down the hall. “Make it fast,” he barked.

  “What the hell has got your panties in such a twist? You’ve been treating me like I’ve got the Bubonic Plague all day.”

  “I just don’t have anything to say to you, I was hoping you’d get the hint.”

  “But why? What did I do?”

  Brent laughed, and Troy realized that a lot of the people in the hallway had stopped to listen to their conversation. “Are you kidding me? You’re actually going to play dumb after sending me that disgusting email?”

  “Email?”

  “Yeah, I went by the computer lab before homeroom this morning and checked my messages, got that sick little love letter from you. If it was your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing.”

  “What are you talking about? What email?”

  “Oh, need me to refresh your memory? The email where you told me you’ve been in love with me since 8th grade then went on to describe in graphic detail some of the fantasies you’ve had about me. Then of course you told me that even though I’d never said anything, you knew I felt the same about you and that we could do stuff together and you’d never tell a soul. Newsflash for you, fag, I don’t feel anything for you but revulsion. I’ve been cool with you all these years, and this is how you repay me? Maybe your kind really are always trying to convert straight guys after all.”

  “That’s insane, you know me better than that, man. I never sent you any such email.”

  “Dude, it came from your school account.”

  “My school account? I haven’t been on that thing in weeks. I send all my email from my Gmail.”

  “Then who sent it?” Brent said loudly; they were really drawing a crowd now.

  “Damned if I know, but I can’t believe you’d actually think I’d do something like that. Not after everything we’ve been through together over the years.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to think? First the email, then you come pull me away from my friends like some scorned ex just because I didn’t say hi to you today.”

  Troy recoiled as if slapped, and his skin burned bright red as he felt all the stares on him, people whispering to one another. Turning back to Brent, he said, “I just wanted to know why you seemed to be ignoring me.”

  “Now you know, so back off. I don’t want to be around you for a while.”

  Brent shoved past, driving his shoulder into Troy and knocking him out of the way. Troy watched his friend go then slunk away himself.

  * * *

  Troy and Jessica were sitting at their usual table in the lunchroom, but Brent was sitting across the cafeteria today. Joel came in with his tray, glanced briefly at Troy then looked away before joining his teammate.

  “So I guess he’s got Joel convinced too,” Troy said, shoving his food away from him. He didn’t have much of an appetite.

  Jessica glanced over her shoulder at the two football players. “Forget those assholes. If they actually believe you sent that email, they’re even dumber than I thought.”

  “Why wouldn’t they believe it? I mean, I logged into my school account and there it was, sitting in my Sent box, sure as shit. Some pretty nasty stuff, I can’t say I blame him for being uncomfortable.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t write it, and anyone with half a brain would know that. One, you’re not the kind of guy who would send a message like that to someone, especially a friend. Two, it’s obvious whoever wrote that email has a much more extensive vocabulary than you do.”

  Troy paused with his milk halfway to his mouth. “You talk as if you’ve read it.”

  “Yeah, that’s because I kinda have.”

  “How? I never showed it to you.”

  “Well…”

  “Spill it, Jess.”

  “Brent printed it out and has sort of been passing it around school.”

  “Oh Jesus, so now everybody thinks I’m some kind of predator scoping out guys in the locker room.”

  “No, not anyone with half a brain.”

  “You said that already, but tell me this. How many people do you know at this school with half a brain?”

  Jessica didn’t say anything, just made swirling patterns in her mashed potatoes with her fork. They sat in silence for a moment, the usual hubbub of the cafeteria providing the background noise, and then a crumpled ball of paper sailed over Troy’s shoulder from the far end of the cafeteria and landed on his lunch tray. He didn’t even look behind him, just took the paper and started smoothing it out.

  “Don’t,” Jessica said.

  Ignoring her, Troy flattened the
paper out on the table and stared down at the pencil drawing there. A crude illustration, but clearly it was supposed to be Troy performing fellatio on a large hairy man wearing only a studded collar. Underneath it was written, “Nasty Cocksuckers Get AIDS.”

  Troy ripped the paper into tiny shreds and sprinkled them over his tray like confetti. When he pushed away from the table, Jessica said, “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to spend the rest of the lunch period in the library, try to get away from all the eyes I feel boring into the back of my head.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, please, I just want some time alone. Okay?”

  Jessica stared up at him, and the pity he saw in her eyes was crushing. “Well, you know where to find me if you need a shoulder.”

  “Thanks,” he said, taking his tray and walking across the cafeteria. Snickers and whispers followed him, and a few spitballs hit him in the back of the head, but he just pretended he didn’t notice. He dumped his garbage then hurried quickly out into the hall.

  Where he collided with Mr. Feldman.

  “Whoa, slow down there,” the counselor said. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Sorry, I’m just in a hurry.”

  Mr. Feldman tilted his head and stared intently at Troy. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Well, my office door is always open if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks but no thanks,” Troy mumbled and started past, but the counselor’s next words made him stop.

  “I know about the email.”

  “What?” Troy said, turning back to Mr. Feldman.

  “Look Troy, I know it seems like the end of the world, but believe me, you’re not the first young gay man to have an unrequited crush on a straight guy.”

  “There is no crush,” Troy said emphatically. “Unrequited or otherwise. I didn’t write that email, I don’t know who—”

  Here Troy paused, staring up at Mr. Feldman with a slack jaw. This seemed to make the counselor uncomfortable. He shifted from one foot to the other then said, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”