Go Forward Slowly

by Whitney Cannon

  The story slash memory brought a smile to Wes’s face, as it usually did, and he still liked to play it up once in a while for dramatic effect.

  His feet left the level and even concrete of the sidewalk in the parking area, and never breaking stride, he pounded on down the packed dirt of Sleepy Hollow trail, intent on evening out his breathing and using the early morning air as free therapy for his poor high school addled soul.

  Only one week into the new school year, and he was already getting looks and taunts in the locker room for being the token gay kid. Wesley had chosen long ago never to hide who he was, and he most certainly wasn’t going to start doing that now just to appease some new freshman who thought he could get away with it.

  Even though Wes was part of a much more accepting generation and wouldn’t have allowed any comments to go on, he’d still been shocked when three different guys from varying levels of the school’s social hierarchy had jumped into the mix and immediately shut the dude down, allowing no room for misunderstandings. Brandon, the junior class president, had come over and slapped Wesley on the back, telling him to let him know if Wes had any issues with anyone on campus and he would see it handled and brought to the principal’s attention. Wes had thanked him and Brandon nodded, saying that he knew Wes could take care of himself, but that he didn’t need to fight the fight alone and that they would have his back.

  Wes had left school on Friday feeling like his year was already looking up. It had been a pretty good feeling.

  He’d certainly been no stranger to the looks and mumbled laughs from his peers over the years, but he only knew how to be himself and if being himself was a problem for others then that was exactly what that was, their problem, not his.

  Focusing back on the trail and the roots and rocks that jutted out occasionally, Wes concentrated on his foot placement and the feeling of contentment that the early morning brought. At six foot one and barely one hundred and thirty-five pounds, Wes was more of a beanpole than he cared to be, but he loved running and used the exercise to clear his head.

  As he came around the final end of the trail loop, he noticed a car parked near his that looked vaguely familiar as one he’d seen around school once or twice.

  Lakeland High School didn’t boast a huge population, but it was decent-sized due to the fact that their school was the only one that all the surrounding middle schools fed into. That being said, as a junior himself, Wes was only just able to drive himself and his brother to and from school every day, even though he’d had his license since his birthday in March. Only juniors and seniors were allowed to drive their cars to school.

  Calvin, Wes’s younger brother, who was a freshman, had the bonus of having an older brother who could drive and would never have to walk or take the bus to school.

  Slowing down as he approached the main trailhead, Wes brought up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead and temples. He kept up a slow jog, and as he neared the intersection where several different paths led off, he caught the sound of a faint buzzing that seemed wholly out of place.

  Following the sound as he slowed to a walk, Wes listened to the crunch of the dirt and gravel under his shoes and the sounds of birds and critters that tangled with the high-pitched buzz that seemed to be growing louder then fading away and growing louder again.

  Glancing down the trail, Wes didn’t notice anyone out and about, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement out on the surface of the lake and looked that way.

  He smiled wide.

  Someone had brought out a remote-controlled boat and it was zipping all around, back and forth, far and near, across the otherwise still and glassy water. Wes realized it was probably the perfect time of day to race the boat, since there were fewer people out fishing or boating, and the water was so calm it wouldn’t affect the little boat possibly getting tossed around.

  Without disturbing the scene or the boat’s operator, Wesley quietly strode to the water’s edge and perched upon a large boulder to watch the little boat zig and zag with purpose. It was such a simple act to sit and observe the boat humming along, that Wes just pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, content with his view as a spectator.

  But, only a few minutes later, the boat headed toward shore and didn’t make a reappearance.

  Wes sat unmoving, just watching the calm water and not long after a few muffled words met his ears. He turned his head so as not to draw attention to his position and watched a boy he vaguely recognized carry the dripping boat and controller down the path.

  Wes wondered if something had happened to the boat. It had seemed to be running just fine while he’d watched it, but what did he know? He’d never used one of those things before.

  Hanging back for a minute to give the boy some space, Wes finally headed back the way he’d come and decided to walk home instead of continuing his run, having cooled down enough that he didn’t feel like getting all sweaty again.

  But as he crossed the sidewalk stepping into the parking lot, he noticed the boy standing at the back of his car fiddling with something on the boat. Wesley didn’t want to draw any attention to himself and wouldn’t have had anything to offer anyway, so he just headed home, leaving the boy to it.

  Sundays were always a busy day at home once they got the day underway.

  Aside from the fact that his mom was literally the crazy cat lady, and Sunday was the day they cleaned out all the cat litter boxes, Wesley ran his own small business that needed to be attended to as well.

  Janice worked for the local animal rescue shelter and was a foster mom to any cat that needed some extra TLC before being adopted out to their forever homes. What did that mean for Wes and Calvin? Yup... Cat duty. His mom took care of most feedings and any medications that needed to be given and she did the day-to-day litter box clean-up, but Sundays were for deep cleaning and cat laundry. Sad to say, they had a tried and true system of getting all the laundry done and it started right after showers and breakfast.

  Wesley’s own business generally only took an hour to attend to on Sunday afternoons but depending on any orders he was able to fill he may or may not need to put in more time. His business was unusual, to say the least, and would probably gross out most of his school if they knew what he did to earn his walking around money. Worm farming wasn’t quite the same thing as mowing lawns or babysitting.

  He’d started his worm farm when he was ten as more of a pet project for him and his dad to always have a good selection of worms when they went fishing. But once his parents had gotten divorced, he’d used it as a way to stay connected to his dad, giving them something to talk about when he passed through town and wanted to go fishing.

  Stan was a long-haul truck driver and his mom had finally had enough of the strain on their marriage with him being gone all the time. They were, however, still friends who cared for each other, they just no longer had to be pining away.

  His dad seemed to love his freedom and while he loved his family, he just preferred to live life more like a nomad with a tiny apartment to come home to, rather than constantly feeling the resentment of his choices.

  Janice had dated a little bit over the last few years but definitely didn’t make it a priority in her life. She was happy with Wes and Cal and the little life they’d built for themselves. She sometimes said that maybe when the boys were old enough and out of the house, she’d consider dating more if she felt lonely, but for the time being, she seemed happy with her cats and her job.

  Walking down his street, Wes smiled to himself as he passed Mr. Muller’s old place, thinking of the old man who’d moved into a senior living community last year. There was a new family living there now with two young daughters and two huge dogs who, despite their size, were super friendly and hardly ever barked when anyone passed by. Wesley didn’t know any of their names but he’d been glad to see them take such good care of the house and had even seen them around the lake a time or two. The young girls didn’t seem to be too pri
ssy and seemed to enjoy climbing all over the rocks and exploring the trails whenever he encountered the family at the lake.

  Strolling up his driveway, Wes paused for a moment on his stoop and held onto the upright post that supported the porch overhang. He pulled up each shin separately and grabbed his ankles behind his butt, stretching out each of his quads, then bent over at the waist to touch his toes and stretch out his hamstrings. He pulled up each toe, one at a time, to stretch his calves and when that was finished, he did a couple of arm and back stretches to round off his morning then shoved open the door and headed inside.

  Mars and Jupiter were sprawled along the cushions on their sofa, and it looked like it was Sunflower who lazed away her morning on the top platform of the cat tree in the corner of the living room. Wes crossed the space and drew back the curtains to let the morning light into the room and knew that the cats would soon migrate to the sunny patch of carpet as the day warmed up.

  Jupiter perked his head up, and Wes moved over to give the old guy a few strokes down his long, mottled brown fur. He pressed against Wes’s palm in appreciation and then startled when a cupboard door closed a little loudly toward the back of the house. Wes soothed him once more and then headed off to see what the plan was for breakfast.

  His brother stood next to the sink cracking eggs into a blue bowl and a quick glance showed a large stack of thick-sliced bread sitting next to the stove.

  “French toast?” Wes asked, as he went farther into the room and grabbed a glass to pour himself some orange juice.

  Calvin grunted. “Yeah. Mom put the bacon in the oven and hopped in the shower real quick. I said I’d get the eggs ready and take the bacon out if she didn’t beat the timer.”

  “Cool. I can wash up and start on the French toast if you set the table,” Wesley mentioned and set his glass down at his spot at the table then moved to the sink to wash his hands.

  Calvin gathered all the eggshells and tossed them into the little stainless steel compost bin on the counter then hip-checked Wes as he tried to overtake Wes’s place at the sink. Wesley stumbled, having not been prepared for Cal’s lower center of gravity and quickly retaliated by flicking his wet hands at Calvin’s face, causing him to splutter.

  “Oh, it’s on little bro. If you’re going to come at me, you’d better be ready to defend yourself,” Wes taunted, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet.

  “From water?” Calvin asked as he grabbed the dish towel to wipe his face.

  “No. From this,” Wes said and grabbed Calvin up in a headlock, forcing his face into Wes’s sweaty armpit.

  “Gross! Oh my God, you idiot. You’re disgusting,” Calvin hollered while attempting to break free. Calvin was quite a bit smaller than Wes and had inherited more of their mother’s Asian heritage, keeping him well under six feet tall. He was only fifteen though and would probably still grow a little bit more, but Wes didn’t think he’d break five-nine, leaving Wes a good five inches taller than him.

  Something he loved to use to his advantage.

  Calvin wriggled around, thoroughly messing up his almost black hair, and Wes let him go, easily fending off the retribution that Calvin tried to dish out. “You started it, Cal. You always set yourself up to get beat down.”

  Calvin grumbled. “You’re not always nasty and sweaty though. That was disgusting,” he muttered. A triumphant smile lit his face and he laughed. “I did get you good though and you totally weren’t prepared for it.”

  Wes shoved him just as the oven timer beeped and he grabbed an oven mitt to take out the tray of sizzling bacon. The aroma was heavenly, and while Wes set the bacon on a cork round to cool, Calvin pulled out the skillet for the French toast.

  “Thanks,” Wes said and grabbed a fork to beat the egg mixture before adding a splash of milk and vanilla.

  Calvin grunted and straightened his hair and shirt before pulling out forks and knives for everyone. Wes prepped the pan and dunked the first slice of bread into the eggs while Calvin puttered around getting out more juice and plates. They worked well together and had a fairly easy-going relationship. Calvin hadn’t even batted an eye at Wes’s sexual orientation, probably having grown up with him as an older brother and never thinking anything of the way he’d acted or his mannerisms.

  Wes wasn’t flamboyant and didn’t wear dresses to school or anything, but he did paint his nails on occasion and could totally rock a smokey eye moment if the mood hit. And, yes, he did have a Queer Eye calendar hanging up in his room.

  But, he also liked sports, fishing, worms, sweat, and the mother of all things put on Earth just for him, Harry Potter.

  He didn’t challenge himself to fit one mold or another. He just stuck with what he liked and let those things guide him as he learned more about himself and how to navigate his world.

  So far, he thought he’d been doing alright.

  Several fresh slices of French toast later and his mom made her appearance in the kitchen. “Morning, Wes. How was your run?” she asked as she stole a quick sip of juice and grabbed a plate for the bacon.

  “It was good. You know I love my Sundays at the lake.” He set the plate of cooked French toast on the table and quickly dipped a few more into the egg mixture. Between he and Cal, they could easily put away four or five slices apiece. “There was a boy there from my school. I think I might have a class with him, but I don’t know his name or anything. Saw a couple of people fishing, and Mr. Robertson was getting his rowboat launched. Seems like it’ll be a nice day today.”

  “Well, if you don’t have too much to do with the worms and your homework is finished, you should head over this afternoon. Only so many more weeks to fish while the weather is still good,” his mom said.

  “We’ll see. Since it was only the first week of school, I don’t really have much homework, but we’ve already been assigned Huck Finn in English so I might start in and read a couple of chapters of that,” Wes replied.

  “How about you, Cal? Any plans today once the cats are done?” Janice asked as they all took seats around the table. Every fork dove for the plate with the French toast slices on it, and Calvin replied as he buttered his first two pieces.

  “Not really. I think some of the guys wanted to meet up at the park for a soccer game or something, but I’m not sure what time. I don’t really have any homework either so if the soccer thing falls through I may go over to the skate park and hang out. Nothing set though.”

  “Okay. Well just let me know your plans so I know if you’ll be around for dinner,” his mom replied and everyone fell silent as they shoveled in their maple syrup-drenched breakfast.

  Chapter 3

  “Alright, everyone. Listen up.” Mr. Dunlap called the class to quiet down as they stood outside the locker room on the blacktop. For the most part, conversation stopped but there were still those few who continued on murmuring to each other despite Mr. Dunlap’s presence. Patton rolled his eyes and focused back on his nemesis. “Good job last week on all your baseline testing. I know you all hate it and secretly think I just love torturing you, but we need some way to be able to track your progress over the year and something to measure against for progress checks. That being said, I’m going to try something new this semester and see if it makes any difference in each of your overall achievements. If I’m happy with the results and see some real progress, I think it may be something I start to implement in every class.”

  Muttering ran throughout the group about being the lucky “guinea pigs” to try the new plan, and Patton had a feeling he was not going to like whatever it was Mr. Dunlap was about to tell them.

  “I’ve gotten together with the English department, and we’ve created a small project that will count for credit in both classes and is going to last throughout the entire first semester.” No one held back their groans of displeasure at hearing the news of their new project. “Okay, okay, settle down,” Mr. Dunlap placated. “It’s not that bad. Listen up while I explain the details.”

  It s
till took another few seconds for the group to comply and eventually Mr. Dunlap continued. “I’m going to be pairing you off, and over the course of the semester, you and your partner are going to work together, encouraging each other to reach whatever fitness goals you determine will benefit you both. You’re going to hold each other accountable for your food consumption, what you drink, how you progress in the weight room, run times… Basically, you’ve just gained a training partner and are going to be working together to achieve your health and fitness goals.”

  “Every Friday, before you dress, we’re going to meet in the gym for the first ten minutes of class, and you and your partner are going to log any progress you might have made over that week. I want you to start out with your goals, things you’d like to see improvement on. Today, instead of dressing, I’m going to pair you off, and you and your partner will sit together and jot down a few things you’d like to work on over the next few months. Talk about where you are now, what your baseline scores were last week, how you did on your mile run… Stuff like that. Then, when you have an idea of where each of you stands, talk about what you’d like to achieve, where would you like to see yourself in a month, in two months, next year?

  “I’d like you all to realize that even though you’re young and may not care much about fitness and health yet, there will come a time when you get older, that you will start to pay more attention to your health and well-being, and I’d like you to know how to set realistic goals and how to see those goals come to pass.

  “Some of you may decide you’d like to get ripped.” Several snickers ran throughout a good portion of the boys listening in and the typical machismo flexing contest ensued. “Yes, boys, we know. You’re all amazing.” The girls laughed at that and the boys grumbled. “But getting ripped in high school is going to be a hard thing to achieve. Most of you are still growing and filling out and to try to fight your body when it’s not even finished developing yet would prove difficult and probably unhealthy. So, I’d like you to focus more on the numbers.