The Battle for Jericho

by Gene Gant

  They went through and stripped my room. The television, Xbox, DVD player, MP3 player, and telephone all came out. Mom even found my stash of nudie lady magazines and took those.

  By the time they were done, the great cosmic scales of justice were definitely sliding into balance.

  MOM had to work Saturday after swapping off her night shift with another nurse. She left before I woke up. The smell of turkey sausage and toast and coffee drew me out of bed at nine. Dad was in sitting at the table in the kitchen, reading the newspaper over an empty plate smeared with the remnants of a fine breakfast.

  “Good morning, Dad.”

  “Good morning, son,” he replied cheerfully.

  I turned to the stove, which was covered with pots and pans, all of which were dirty but empty. “Uh. You didn’t leave me any breakfast?”

  “You weren’t up, so I cooked just enough for myself. You’re welcome to fix whatever you like.” Dad folded the paper, stood up, and took a final gulp of coffee from his mug. “Just make sure you clean up the kitchen when you’re done.”

  He took his paper and went to the den, and I wondered just how long my parents were going to stay mad at me.

  I cleaned up the kitchen and ate a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast. After I showered and got dressed, Dad ordered me out into the backyard to rake leaves. It was a beautiful, cold morning, and I wanted to be out somewhere hanging with my friends. But I didn’t feel I had any grounds to complain about anything.

  As I worked, I heard a familiar scuffling. When I turned, I saw that Mac had climbed over the fence.

  Of course, Dad had called Mr. Travis after he found out what Mac and I had done. To say that Mac was mad about that is the same as saying a nuclear blast is noisy.

  He came across the yard so fast I didn’t have time to even think about protecting myself. He punched me in the gut twice, one swift, solid blow after the other, and I went down, curling in a heap once I was on the ground. Then he scrambled back over the fence, leaving me with a mound of partially digested Cheerios to rake up along with the leaves.

  And that was how I lost my best friend.

  IT’S a small world. And when you live in a small town, the world is even smaller than you think.

  My dad told his brother Vic about my criminal acts against Dylan Cussler. It turns out that the lawyer Hutch kept mentioning was the one and only Dylan, who just happened to be Hutch’s mentor at the MLGBT Teen Society. And Vic naturally passed the word on to Hutch to explain why he couldn’t drop Hutch off at my place on Saturday for a visit.

  To say that Hutch was hurt to learn that the guy he was falling for had gay-bashed his mentor is the same as saying Katrina was a tropical wind.

  He called me on the phone Saturday afternoon. He was so upset that Dad let me talk to him even though I was grounded. “Did you do it? Did you really do it, Jerry?” He was in tears. He was actually in tears.

  And that was how I lost the guy I was on the verge of making my boyfriend.

  Chapter 25

  THANKSGIVING came and went, and the Christmas shopping season began in earnest. Mr. Randall, one of the deacons at our church, is a manager at the Giant Foods Supermarket, and he set me up with a job there as a favor to Dad. I’d work six hours on Saturday, four hours on Sunday, and three hours after school on Tuesday and Thursday, stocking shelves, bagging groceries, and helping customers get their purchases loaded in their cars. In about eight weeks, I would earn enough to pay Dylan off. I wasn’t so stupid as to think I could quit after that. Knowing Dad, I’d be working until I graduated high school and headed off to college.

  Mac got a job too. His dad wasn’t any happier about what happened at Dylan’s house than my dad was. As part of his punishment, Mr. Travis wanted Mac to pay restitution too. Dylan told Mr. Travis that he’d already reluctantly agreed to take restitution from me, and he refused to have Mac pay him as well. Mr. Travis then insisted that Dylan have Mac make a donation to Dylan’s favorite charity. Mac was therefore committed to donate the first $700 of his earnings bussing tables, sweeping floors, and cleaning toilets at the Fisher King Seafood Restaurant to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis.

  Hutch started his job at Burger King the Monday before Thanksgiving. By that Friday, he had rented a room at Dylan’s house and moved out of my Uncle Vic’s apartment. Dylan filed paperwork with the court to start the emancipation process for Hutch. Through the realtor who’d listed the Hutchison home for sale, Dylan learned that Mr. and Mrs. Hutchison were now living in Greensboro, North Carolina. He had them served with notice of Hutch’s application for emancipation and the date for the court hearing. They would have the opportunity to appear and either agree to the emancipation or explain why they were against it. Like Dylan and Hutch, I prayed that they wouldn’t bother to show.

  Hutch was upset with Mac for his part in the attack on Dylan too, but since Hutch was still in the closet for the most part, Mac thought Hutch was angry with him for punching me out. Things were strange at school, naturally, with three formerly good friends not speaking to each other. Thankfully, that lasted only about a week and a half.

  The second Saturday in December, just after breakfast, I was sitting on the floor of my room, moping. I’d finished my homework the night before, I couldn’t go out to hang with my friends (the ones who were still speaking to me, that is), I couldn’t watch television or call anyone on the phone, and I was tired of reading, the one form of entertainment my parents hadn’t taken from me. Don’t quote me on this, but it’s better to do chores than to have nothing at all to do.

  Dad stuck his head in the door. Between him and Mom, I now had a total of one half of a parent who’d talk to me. Dad was at least making an effort to get back to normal in the way he treated me. “Why the hell are you looking so down in the dumps?”

  “I’m bored, Dad,” I whined.

  “What the hell are you doing bored when there’s so much stuff that has to be done around here? Get up!” He clapped his hands and then motioned for me to rise. “Put your jacket on and go dig the Christmas stuff out of the shed. I’m going to make some hot chocolate. You and I are going to put up the tree and decorate this house.”

  I hopped right up. I felt like saluting. “Yes, sir!”

  I put on my jacket, went outside, and started hauling Christmas decorations from the storage shed in the backyard. Dad and I were going to spend time together, and I was looking forward to it. Then I heard that familiar scuffling. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Mac drop into the backyard.

  I think I set some kind of speed record getting myself into the storage shed. I yanked the door shut, holding onto the handle for dear life indeed. It would only take a couple of tugs for Mac to rip the door open and get at me. I hoped to buy myself a few seconds to talk him down.

  He banged on the door. “Jericho, come on out.”

  “Mac, please,” I shouted back, tugging even harder on the door. “If you’re gonna kick my ass, at least do it in school. Don’t do it here and make my dad think I can’t even stand up for myself in my own backyard.” Which, when it came to Mac at least, I couldn’t.

  “I’m not gonna hit you, man. Open the door.”

  “Yeah, right. Why don’t you tell me the sky is purple, and it’s raining gumdrops?”

  He banged on the door again. “Come on, I’m serious. I’m not here to hit you. I came to apologize.”

  You’re trapped in a storage shed, and there’s an alligator standing right outside the door with its mouth wide open and razor-sharp teeth on full display. It might be a fake alligator, and it might be the real thing. If you open the door and it’s fake, you’ll have a good laugh at yourself for being so silly and go on off to enjoy the rest of your life. But if you open the door and it’s real, you’ll get maimed and spend the rest of your life rolling yourself around in a wheelchair. What do you do?

  If you’re me, you don’t take any chances. “Uh-uh, man. I’m not coming out. Go home.”

  �
�Jerry, I said I’m not gonna hit you. Don’t you trust me?”

  “No!”

  “Man, you’re hurting my feelings.”

  “I’m sorry. Go home and you’ll feel better.”

  The door jerked powerfully in my hands.

  “Mac, stop!”

  Another powerful outward jerk.

  “Mac!”

  A third jerk and the door flew open, almost pulling me facedown on the ground. I backed up, head down, arms crossed over my face. Mac grabbed the front of my jacket and hauled me out of the storage shed. I kept my arms in front of my face, my eyes closed. It was perfect for praying.

  …I pray the lord my soul to take.

  “Take down your arms, Jerry.”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “Jerry….”

  “Just hit me in the stomach again and not the face, okay? It’s better to barf than bleed.”

  He grabbed my arms and pulled them away from my face. I sighed and opened my eyes.

  Mac looked annoyed. “Dang, man. Why you gotta make it so hard for a guy to apologize to you?”

  I didn’t trust any of this. I still figured a punch in the mouth was coming to me. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “For hitting you, man.” It was truly stunning. Mac’s regret looked like the real thing. “My dad came down hard on me when he found out about that thing with that Dylan guy. I’m gonna be working a whole year to make contributions to some hospital in Memphis that Dylan supports and something called the MLGBT Society, which Dad figures will teach me not to put people down for being gay. I got pissed at you for that, and I shouldn’t have. The whole thing about going after Dylan was my idea, it was a stupid thing to do, and I shouldn’t have blamed you because I was stupid. I’m really sorry I hit you, Jer.”

  And then Mac did something even more amazing. He reached out and hugged me.

  I don’t know how to make you understand how major that was. Mac never hugged other guys. Like, ever. I’d never even seen him hug his own father. He said guys hugging was a “gay thing” for sure.

  It made me so uneasy my body twitched. I just knew that any second now, Mac was going to come to his senses, realize what he was doing, and punch me in the head to redeem himself. “Uh, Mac,” I said hesitantly. “You’re… hugging me, man.”

  “Jerry,” he replied, “it’s December, Christmas is coming, and I’m feeling the love. We’re having a really good moment here. If you mess this up and embarrass me, I’m gonna want to hit something.”

  Well, hug away! I wrapped my arms around him in one of those big, back-patting hugs.

  Mac wasn’t through astounding me. When he let me go, he stepped back and unzipped his jacket. “Okay, it’s payback time.” He patted his flat, muscular abs. “Come on. Hit me.”

  It’s only natural to feel a certain caution at hitting a guy who’s bigger and stronger than you are, even at his invitation. “Nah, I don’t have to do that, man. I’m just glad you’re not mad at me anymore.”

  “No, man. You need payback.” He patted his abs again. “Hit me.”

  Smiling, I waved him off. “Nah….”

  “Do it!”

  I gut-punched Mac and discovered that he’d eaten sausage and biscuits for breakfast. And that’s how I got my best friend back.

  AT SCHOOL Monday afternoon, Hutch came up to me at my locker. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I returned, happy with just that one syllable from him.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  “Sure. Come on.” It was my study period. I could spend that period either in the study hall or the library. The library had nooks and crannies where you could get a little privacy, so I took Hutch there. He was obviously willing to cut his craft and design class. After I checked in with Mrs. Milton, the librarian who was on duty, I led Hutch to a little cove at the back where the old encyclopedias were stored. No one used encyclopedias anymore, so the area was deserted. Hutch and I sat on the dusty floor there, facing each other.

  “I hated not talking to you,” whispered Hutch.

  “Yeah, I hated it too,” I whispered back. “You’re not, like… breaking up with me or anything, are you?”

  “Well, no. Mostly because I didn’t know we were together.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I guess it just felt that way in my head.”

  “I really wanted to apologize for getting upset with you about hurting Dylan. Aside from you, he’s done more for me than any friend I have.”

  “Yeah, well you don’t have anything to apologize for. It was really dumb for me to do what I did. I like Dylan. He’s a nice guy.”

  “He likes you too. He told me about the talks he had with you, and he thinks you gay-bashed him because you were confused and afraid of your own feelings for other guys. He said he forgave you, and if he can do it, so can I.”

  I was so happy I felt like crying. “Hutch, I’m so glad, man. Thanks. I really hated it that you didn’t want to be around me. I hated it.”

  He reached over and took my right hand, lifting it to expose my wrist. “You’re wearing the bracelet,” he said, surprised, his voice suddenly tender.

  “Yeah.” I had been wearing the black and tan bracelet ever since Hutch moved out of the house, taking it off only to shower. It made me feel close to him.

  Hutch let go of my hand and looked into my eyes. “Let’s go back to what you said earlier. After that night we… you know… in your bed, I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend. But I didn’t think you’d go for that. Is that how you were starting to see us? As boyfriends?”

  I shrugged. “I think so. Yeah.”

  “What about Lissandra?”

  “I told her I had feelings for somebody else. And I told her I didn’t know whether I wanted to be with her or the other person, and that I didn’t think it was fair to have her hang on when I was still trying to figure out what I wanted. So we broke up. I was gonna give you the same speech, but I don’t have to do that now. I know who I want, Hutch, and that’s you.”

  His face lit up like a little kid’s, and it was the most wonderful sight I’d ever seen. “Really? You mean that?”

  “I mean it.” To prove it, I reached over, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him to me for a kiss. When I let him go, I launched into a speech that I now felt obligated to give him. “But you may not want to be with me after I say what I’m about to say. I do like girls, and it’s possible I may come across a girl one day who really turns me on, and I’ll want to take off with her.”

  “And it’s possible that I may come across another guy one day who really turns me on, and I’ll want to take off with him. It could happen to any couple, Jerry. That’s one of the things Dylan taught me. You take a chance and give it your best. But if you and I are really into each other, we could stay together for years.”

  “Another thing is that I’m grounded for life, and right now I can’t take you out or even have you over to the house unless my mom or dad is there. I won’t be able to spend time with you the way you want me to.”

  “That’s okay. You won’t be grounded forever. I’ll wait. We’ll just have to sneak around and find places like this to spend time together until you make parole.” He leaned over and kissed me again. “But something you should know, Jerry, is that I’m gonna come out at school.”

  “Why?” I asked, automatically thinking it was a bad idea.

  “I’m just tired of hiding. I am who I am. Plus, I’m living at Dylan’s house. Kids pass his house every day going to and from school. Sooner or later, they’re going to see me at his place, and my secret will be out. I think it’s better for me to put it out there myself. And I know there are guys who will want to tear me apart for being who I am, but if I can survive my dad, I think I can survive anything.”

  “I’ll have your back, man. But I’m not ready to come out at school yet. I’m still waiting to see how my parents handle this gay side of me. That’s about all I can deal with now.”

  “It’s okay,” H
utch said. “You do whatever works best for you.”

  We kissed again. And that’s how I got Hutch to be my boyfriend.

  CHRISTMAS drifted closer. Hutch’s court hearing came up, his parents didn’t show, and now it’s just a matter of waiting to see how the judge rules on Hutch’s request to be emancipated. Mom stepped up the lectures about sin and redemption and seeking God’s forgiveness. She doesn’t show any sign of giving up her fight for my soul. I don’t understand everything she says, any more than I understand everything in the Bible. But I’m not worried about my soul any longer. I confessed my sins to God, including the one I committed against Dylan, and I believe he has forgiven me. I also believe I am exactly what God made me, and he loves me as I am.

  And I know who I am now. I’m a guy with lots of friends and parents who believe I’m going to hell but love me anyway. I’m a guy who’s attracted to both girls and boys, and who now has a great thing going with a great guy.

  And I think that makes me… blessed.

  About the Author

  GENE GANT grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, and lives with his family in a quiet little rural community just outside the city. You can visit his Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Gene-Gant/350743278345530.

  Also by GENE GANT from Harmony Ink

  http://www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Also available from HARMONY INK PRESS

  http://www.harmonyinkpress.com

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  Table of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8