The Gay Teen's Guide to Defeating a Siren: Book 1: The Seeker

by Cody Wagner

  When I reached one of the rear rooms, a light flickered on. My legs tensed; this was it. Gripping the window ledge, I slowly pulled myself up (very glad I had practiced pull-ups). Sure enough, Jimmy was standing in the same room I’d seen him in earlier. A few seconds later, two men walked in and shook hands with Jimmy. It was Wolcott and Mr. Adkins.

  Twenty minutes later, two other teachers had joined the group, along with a couple people I didn’t recognize. They all took seats, then Wolcott turned on the TV.

  For the first five minutes, excitement buzzed through me. What were they doing?

  An hour later, I wanted to curl up and die of boredom.

  The whole thing looked to be some kind of routine meeting. They would bring up random things on TV—this politician or that judge or sometimes even Zimmerman’s Zealots—and chat. I couldn’t hear anything through the window, but they weren’t getting angry or throwing things; they were just discussing. Talk about boring.

  The only weird thing was, every so often, they’d point to someone on screen and turn to Jimmy, who would nod or shake his head. The fact they relied on him for . . . something . . . was kind of weird. But not weird enough to keep my interest.

  Ten minutes later, as my head bobbed from sleepiness, I trudged back across campus.

  Any thoughts of going back to sleep vanished when I entered my room. Cassie was up, her eyes on fire. If it were dialog, like in Jimmy’s monologue, I would have said she was “maaaaaaaaad.” Flinching, I glanced at the clock: 6:17. I had been gone forever!

  “Where were you?” she demanded.

  I couldn’t speak. I’d never seen her like this before.

  “Trailing Jimmy,” I whispered.

  She took a huge breath like she was about to unleash, and I braced for impact, practically covering my face. Instead, she suppressed the anger behind a wall of calm. Exhaling slowly, she sat down on her bed.

  “I thought we were going together?” She sounded like a parent, trying to give her child the benefit of the doubt.

  “I know and I’m sorry. But I barely caught him leaving. By the time you were up and dressed, he would have been long gone.”

  She pointed at herself. “I’ve been sleeping in my clothes.”

  Of course she has been, I said to myself. Cassie was always on top of everything.

  I grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t know. Sorry.”

  I think she wanted to continue guilt-tripping me but realized it wouldn’t send her back in time. She groaned in frustration, sat up, and asked, “Did you learn anything?”

  “Yes.”

  She perked up and scooted to the edge of the bed.

  “I learned how to die of boredom.”

  “What?” She wasn’t amused.

  Yawning, I told her about what I’d witnessed.

  Cassie was far more interested than I’d anticipated. She asked me tons of questions about every single thing.

  “So they were discussing prominent political figures?” Her eyes gleamed.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea how prominent they were.”

  She ignored me and said, “And they’d ask Jimmy about them?”

  I nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “And what would he say?”

  “Nothing much. Just ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

  She rubbed her mouth. “I wonder what they need him for.”

  By this point I was so tired, I climbed into bed, saying, “No idea.”

  “We have to find out.”

  Admittedly, the thought had crossed my mind that this was tied to my meeting with Wolcott. But, with all these politicians I didn’t know, the whole thing seemed less relevant to me than ever. I had my hands full enough dealing with school, my parents, and all that. Going on a wild goose chase just didn’t seem very appealing. Especially one that put me to sleep.

  I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m not sure I care.”

  “I care,” Cassie said.

  I nodded, fluffed my pillow, and lay down. “OK. Well, if you learn something, let me know.”

  She stewed in silence until I fell asleep. I was sure she was going to keep spying on him. In hindsight, I should have helped her. I just had no idea what we’d eventually uncover and how gargantuan it would be.

  Ten

  Straight Training

  In early December, the weather got much colder, which meant two things. First, our semester tests were approaching. Jimmy and I started meeting almost every night to run through algebra questions that bordered on impossible. In biology, we had to learn all the parts of a starfish. And don’t get me started on all the Spanish vocabulary words I was supposed to be memorizing.

  Second, and more importantly, we were approaching our first straight training class. All the new students were really excited. I thought back to the strange stuff kids did when I arrived, and couldn't wait to get in on the joke. Roze and I played around with the stunts we wanted to pull when parents came for Christmas. Roze promised me she'd swoon and fall on the ground in a fit of healing. I hoped she’d land in a pile of mud. In return, I told her I'd yell, “I feel it!” and begin shaking every time someone said, “Healing.”

  Cassie thought we were being immature, but smiled along with us as we practiced at dinner the night before our session.

  "What are you going to do?" I asked her.

  "I'll probably nod my head a lot and agree with everyone."

  "You're wild!" Roze teased.

  I looked at Jimmy, hoping he'd involve acting somehow. I hadn't told anyone about his performance on the stage—I think the fact he did it at 4:30 in the morning probably meant he didn't want people knowing. I admit I was dying to tell Roze and Cassie. I forced myself to hold it in, though. Honestly, I probably shouldn't have told Cassie about the teachers’ meeting. But we were in that together, and she would have found out for herself. Besides, she didn't believe me, and I still caught her following him around and asking him weird questions.

  When we asked Jimmy what he usually did during parent visits, he smiled. "This time, I'm going to say, ‘Yes!’ and shake every time someone says, ‘Healing’.”

  I poked his arm. "Original."

  Cassie smiled at me. If Jimmy wasn't around, she'd probably say something about him imitating me. It was awkward, but I ignored her, and forced him to change his answer.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, I practically skipped to algebra with Jimmy. He didn’t have to attend the training, but listened to me practice different sayings. By the time we reached the classroom, I had changed tactics and was trying to crack him up with the most ridiculous things I could think of (“I’m so healed I can flyyyyyyyy,” followed by a ballerina leap).

  When we walked into the room, something was off. First, Luke and Darrin were already in their chairs. They usually didn’t walk in or take their seats until the last second. I think that’s a sign of being popular (“I’m so incredibly popular and busy, I can’t possibly get to class early”). That should have tipped me off.

  Without looking at them, Jimmy and I made our way to our chairs. Only when I got there, my left-handed seat was missing. Confused, I searched around until I heard my name. Flinching, I looked over to see Luke smiling at me. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just nodded. Darrin pointed at the desk next to him. It was my left-handed desk.

  “We thought we’d help you out,” Luke said.

  My insides clenched up. That first week, I would have been thrilled if they had moved my desk. But I didn’t like them any more. Of course, I never showed it, so they had no idea. For all they knew, I was still desperate to join them.

  Then something else hit me: was this a way to pick on Jimmy? It made so much sense. Their group knew Jimmy and I were friends now. Was this another way to hurt him? If so, it was way worse than the comics because I’d be the one inflicting the wound. They assumed I’d ditch my friend to join the jocks.

  Such thoughts helped my resolve.

  The problem was, while the choice was now easy,
my mind swam in the repercussions. What would they do to me when I refused?

  Darrin, noticing my indecision, raised an eyebrow and pointed at me.

  “Final offer,” he said.

  He sounded so self-important I almost laughed. In fact, his attitude stirred something in me. Before he spoke up, I was just going to sit next to Jimmy at a right-handed desk. Now, I was angry, and ignoring them wasn’t enough. Taking a deep breath, I walked to Luke and Darrin, who grinned at Jimmy, thinking they’d won.

  Without a word, I leaned toward my desk as Darrin reached up to give me a high five. I stuck my hand out, but instead of slapping his, I grabbed the other side of the desk. In one motion, I hefted it and carried it back to Jimmy. A few students snickered.

  Reaching my normal spot, I noticed Jimmy had already pushed the right-handed desk out of the way. He was grinning so wide, I thought his face might rip apart. Smiling back, I set the chair down, turned around, and plopped down. Luke and Darrin faced the front of the room, furious, and didn’t move until Ms. Meeks walked in and began the lesson.

  Although I knew it was the right decision, my body burned. I couldn’t stop picturing Luke and Darrin plotting their revenge. My back actually hurt as I imagined pencils being thrown at me again. Consequently, my concentration was completely blown by the conflict. At one point, Ms. Meeks asked me to solve a matrix. Blankly, I answered, “Keanu Reeves”, much to everyone’s amusement.

  Their revenge didn’t take long.

  Just before class ended, Luke and Darrin handed back a note. I assumed it was the latest Orphan Jimmy, and I shoved the paper at Jimmy. I wanted to trash it, but weeks earlier, he stopped me; he always insisted on taking them.

  A few seconds later, I felt a nudge and turned to Jimmy, who held out the note.

  “It’s for you.” he said, worried.

  Confused, I looked down at the paper:

  Blazing Trails to Jimmy’s Heart

  I groaned. Part of me thought, Like I’ve never heard that one before. But part of me was terrified. It had begun. Knee jumping, I opened the paper. Jimmy lay on a cot and I stood over him, feeding him grapes. It was like one of those old Greek pictures.

  Flashbacks of middle school taunting invaded me and I squirmed. A girl on the other side of me tried peeking and, flustered, I tore the paper from her view. This was way too familiar. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to think about the differences. I had friends here. I could be myself here. This was nothing like my old school. And I knew Luke and Darrin were jerks (already, they were laughing and pretending to feed each other).

  But it still hurt. I guess I was one of those people who wanted everyone to like me. But, in this case, I shouldn’t have cared. Who would want to be friends with people like that, anyway? That’s when I heard a whisper to my left.

  “I don’t even like grapes.”

  I turned to Jimmy, who was staring intently at the picture.

  His comment was so serious, I started laughing. Talk about random. The more I thought about it, the funnier it became. It got to the point where I had to lean over and pretend to look for something, I was laughing so hard.

  After what felt like hours, I composed myself, feeling better, until a new worry found its way back into my head. This won’t be the first Blazing Trails comic. The thought sucked and I stared down at the paper still on my desk. Then I thought of Jimmy. If he could take eighty issues of Orphan Jimmy, I could handle Blazing Trails. It was a stupid name, anyway.

  * * * * *

  At 3:50, as Cassie, Roze, and I approached the auditorium and began walking up the rows of seats, the incident with Luke and Darrin had pretty much vanished from my head, replaced by excitement. Squatting and preparing to yell, “Healing,” I looked at Roze, eager to show off my ballerina leap. Before I could do anything, Cassie froze and gestured to the seats.

  "What is it?" Roze asked.

  "The last time we were here was for orientation."

  I looked around, stunned. Other than my fiasco trailing Jimmy, she was right.

  "It feels so different now," Roze said.

  Right again. I remembered being so angry and depressed when we first walked in here. The rows of seats felt like teeth waiting to devour us. Now it was inviting, and we walked to the front and sat as close to the stage as possible. Everyone else must have felt the same because the front rows were full.

  Once everyone was more or less seated, Principal Wolcott made his way to the stage. To quote my mom, he looked “dapper” in his suit and perfectly trimmed beard. Like before, his eyes were kind and excited. The entire auditorium went silent. I swear even squirrels in the surrounding trees shut up.

  “Welcome to this session.”

  Wolcott looked around, smiling, then continued, “I’m sure you’re all very excited to be here and I’m equally excited to teach you. I don’t get the chance often and cherish it when I can.”

  A light applause broke out and I found myself joining in. Roze looked at me like I was a weirdo. Wolcott held up a hand.

  “No applause needed. In fact I’m not sure it’s warranted. A lot of you have some grandiose ideas about what we’re going to talk about. I’m sure you all saw things like people fainting and yelling and crying when you first arrived with your parents. But I have some news: that’s not what this class is about.”

  A few confused stares.

  “I don’t think I have to tell anyone here how to flop around and make fools of yourselves. I do have to tell you that you need to remain respectful. Some of you may think this is a huge inside joke and love the opportunity to take advantage, but that’s not what this class is about. Your families aren’t evil. They’re just confused.”

  He stopped and looked around in his unsettling way.

  “I know this speech doesn’t really matter. I’ve been giving it for years and look how the students still act during public visits.” A hint of a smile appeared. “Kids will be kids. But I encourage you to take a look at your motives and realize, in its own way, it’s a form of bullying.”

  I stopped fidgeting in my seat. In a way, that made sense—we were essentially poking fun at people. On the other hand, though, part of me felt that they deserved it. If our parents could remove us from our homes and lives, they could take a little harmless joking. I was conflicted, especially seeing Cassie nodding along with him.

  Thinking of people flailing around, I remembered the posters and weirdly named food. The school was responsible for that, right? If so, wasn’t it the same as us flopping around claiming to be healed?

  I didn’t know. I mean, where should we draw the line? Either way, I knew my dad loved that stuff. It seemed to take all that craziness to convince him.

  Wolcott began to speak again, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “All right. Let’s get into it, shall we?” He clasped his hands and stepped out from the podium. “Again, I’m sure you’re all fine with professing how you’re healed and fainting and what not. So what we’re going to talk about are the more difficult conversations.”

  With that, he pointed at a student near me. “Mr. Ortiz, will you join me, please?”

  Ricardo Ortiz, a broad-shouldered student in my biology class, stood and made his way up to the stage. He smiled, but fidgeted with his hands.

  “For the next minute, we’re going to pretend I’m your dad,” Wolcott said.

  “Alright,” Ricardo said.

  Wolcott straighted his tie, and said, “Son, it’s good to see you.”

  “Um, thanks . . . Dad.” A few people giggled as Wolcott stuck out a hand. Ricardo hesitantly shook it.

  “How are you doing here at Sanctuary Prep Academy?”

  Ricardo peered around, like he was trying to get the audience’s help in bidding for a toaster on The Price is Right. Shrugging, he grabbed his head and said, “I’m healed!” Seeing us laugh, he stumbled backwards and fell. Everyone laughed harder, except Cassie, who had an expression that said, Wolcott just told us not to do this.

 
Wolcott crossed his arms, wearing an indulging smile. When Ricardo stopped his performance, Wolcott cleared his throat.

  “You’re healed? Great! Then you’re ready to come home.”

  Ricardo froze and began stammering, “Uh . . . no, I mean I’m not healed.”

  “Then what was that about?” Wolcott said, referring to Ricardo’s less-than-stellar performance.

  Ricardo couldn’t answer.

  “Were you playing with me?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re healed?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you just said . . . ”

  Ricardo fumbled again.

  Wolcott stopped him and faced us.

  “Guys and gals. It’s so easy to get caught in a trap. That’s why I urge caution during public visits.”

  Every one of us gaped at Wolcott. In just a few seconds, he already had me questioning my own pre-planned antics. He was right. If I pretended to be HEALED, my parents might try to take me home. Or worse, they might try to set me up on a date.

  Wolcott spent the next hour going through different scenarios and providing suggestions on how to respond. In order to stay at Sanctuary, we were going to have to convince our parents that the school really worked and that we were making improvements. On the flip side, we also had to show them that, without remaining here, we might fall back into our old ways.

  Thinking back, Wolcott’s lessons were really obvious. I guess, in our excitement to preach and moan and act like idiots, most of us weren’t thinking. Don’t get me wrong, being in on the joke still excited me. It just seemed a little riskier than I’d thought. Especially with my knack for freezing up and doing idiotic things.

  Toward the end of the session, when Wolcott’s speeches had worn down our eagerness to flaunt our healing, a guy several seats down raised his hand.

  “Yes, Mr. Grazier?” Wolcott said.

  “What happens when we graduate?”