by Anna Martin
“What is it for you?”
Scott huffed a laugh. “Me discovering what would have happened if I’d grown a pair ten years ago, I suppose.”
“Shit. Was it really that long?”
“It really was.”
“I wonder if the rest of our lives will fly by that fast.”
Scott hummed in agreement. “I know. I guess you do a lot of growing up between eighteen and twenty-eight.”
Evan was quiet for a while, eating his pancakes methodically. So much had changed in the past ten years. And yet, maybe some things were just the same.
After breakfast Scott helped to finish stacking the dishwasher and went back into the bedroom to find the rest of his clothes while Evan turned it on and filled the sink to scrub the pans. It seemed like Scott wasn’t planning on hanging around this morning, and Evan wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
“I took the liberty of putting my number in your phone.”
Evan turned his back to the sink and laughed, taking it from Scott’s outstretched hand. “That’s passcode locked, you asshole.”
“To your birthdate.”
Scott looked gorgeously disheveled in yesterday’s outfit, his hair still wet from the shower and a day’s growth of stubble on his jaw. It suited him. Scott had a way of looking good in his own skin that Evan had always been jealous of.
“You’re going back to Chicago.”
It wasn’t a question, but Scott nodded anyway.
“I have to. My flight is later this afternoon, and I need to get the car back to my mom.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Evan shook his head, choosing to look at the floor rather than the beautiful man in front of him.
Scott stepped in close, gripped Evan’s chin, and tilted it up so he could press their lips together. The kiss was slow and sweet, careful and knowing now. They knew each other a little better than they ever had before.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Scott said, resting his forehead against Evan’s. “I don’t have any answers right now. But this isn’t the end.”
“Okay.”
The next kiss felt like Scott was sealing some unspoken deal, and Evan shuddered, his fingers twitching to pull Scott in close again, to take his mouth and kiss and kiss until Scott promised to come back. Evan needed that promise.
Scott pulled away with a tiny pained noise and silently let himself out of the house.
Evan took one deep, calming breath, ignoring the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. He tried not to listen to the car pulling away from the front of his house. And failed.
The First Time
Spring 1992
“Mom!” Evan yelled as he ran into the house. “Mom, Mom, Moooooomm!”
“Yes, darling,” she said, appearing from the kitchen with an apron around her waist, floury hands, and an exasperated expression.
Evan skidded to a stop and frowned. “What are you making?”
“You had a question for me?”
“Oh. Yeah. Can I go to Scott’s?”
Evan’s mom turned around and walked back into the kitchen. He followed her, hoping the floury hands meant she’d been making cookies. On the counter, a pie was cooling. Even better.
“Who’s Scott?”
“Is that peach pie?” he asked hopefully.
“Evan King,” she admonished. “One thing at a time. Who is Scott?”
“He’s my best friend,” Evan said.
“Uh-huh. Andy was your best friend last week.”
“He’s my second best friend now.”
“Is that so,” she said in a way that wasn’t a question.
Without waiting to be asked, Evan went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. He’d been playing outside and knew his mom wouldn’t let him have pie unless he washed up.
“Scott has a whole bunch of action figures,” Evan said, drying his hands on his shorts. There wasn’t a towel anywhere he could see. “And he let me play Hulk even though Hulk is his favorite too. He’s got loads of them. Wolverine and Punisher and Iron Man and Spider-Man and Captain America and—”
“Would you like some pie, Evan?”
“Yes, please. Then can I go to Scott’s? His mom said it was okay.”
“Where does Scott live?” she asked as she cut a nice-sized piece of pie—it was peach—and put it in his favorite dish.
“Dunno.”
“Okay. Where did you meet him? At the playground?”
“Yep.” Evan hopped up onto one of the tall stools in the kitchen so he could eat. “The one I’m allowed to go to. He said I could go home with him and his mom then, but I said I had to ask you first.”
“Good boy,” she said and ruffled his hair. “Tell you what, when you go over to the playground tomorrow, I’ll walk with you and see if Scott’s mom is there. Then we can arrange for you to go over some time.”
Evan nodded, his mouth full of pie. “Okay.”
“I have to go to work tonight, sweetie, so Mrs. Lipinski will be watching you for a few hours.”
Evan groaned loudly. “Mrs. Lip-ski smells like beets.”
“She does not smell like beets,” his mom said. “And it’s Lipinski. Lip-in-ski.”
“Uh-huh. Can I have some more pie, please?”
“After your dinner. I’ll put some in a bowl for you in the fridge, okay? You can get it yourself once you’ve eaten.”
“Okay, Momma. I wish you didn’t have to go to work tonight.”
“I know, kiddo,” she said with a sigh and kissed the top of Evan’s head. “Me too. Go on and play while I get this place cleaned up.”
He hummed in agreement and slid down from the stool to land in a crouch, then took off for the family room at a run. This was where his mom kept all the best drawing supplies. He was allowed to keep some in his room for when he played quietly upstairs, but mostly they were here so they could work on things together.
Evan liked drawing most of all. He liked drawing the Avengers and the Fantastic Four and Batman and Joker. Batman was the best because you could draw the Bat Signal in the sky and the whole of Gotham City and the Batmobile.
When Evan’s mom came to kiss him good-bye before she went to work, he was stretched out on his stomach, coloring the city sky, and he remembered to tell her he loved her before she left the house.
His mom worked at night, sometimes at a bar and sometimes at a convenience store. During the days, when he was at school, she worked at the convenience store again and sometimes at a restaurant, but not always. She was always there when he finished school, waiting to walk him home, even though Evan said he was old enough to walk home on his own now. His mom didn’t listen. She was always there.
“Evan. Evan.”
“What?”
“Time to get up for school, buddy.”
Evan groaned and rolled over. “Sun’s not even up yet,” he grumbled.
He heard his mom go over to the window and pull back the curtains, letting the sun in.
“Well, look at that. Mr. Sunshine has his hat on. It’s gonna be a beautiful day. Come on, up you get!”
Evan rolled onto his back and cracked an eye open, pouting at his mom. “I don’t think I feel too good, Momma.”
“Really? Did you forget what today is?”
Evan struggled through the morning fog in his head. “Monday?”
“Scott starts at your school today. He’s transferring for second grade. Remember?”
“Oh!” Evan said brightly, sitting up in bed.
“Feeling better?” his mom asked slyly.
“I think I was just sleepy still,” Evan said and gave her a big smile. “Can I wear my Hulk T-shirt to school today?”
His mom had bought him the Hulk T-shirt when they went shopping in Target for his back-to-school clothes. Evan hated shopping for back-to-school clothes. He hated shopping for anything, but his mom always took him to the shops to make sure his clothes fit. She said he was growing like a weed, and she didn’t know what siz
e he was in anything anymore. They’d bought jeans and smart pants and T-shirts and sweaters, enough to last him until Christmas at least. Evan had seen the Hulk T-shirt last of all and reminded his mom how good he’d been while she was holding things up against him to see if they’d fit.
“You want to wear it for your first day at school?”
Evan nodded. “Please.”
She gave him a resigned sort of laugh, one that said she wasn’t going to argue. “Okay. I’ll put it out with your jeans. Get dressed, please, and come downstairs for breakfast.”
Normally Evan did not like mornings, and he did not like Mondays, and he especially didn’t like having to go back to school after a whole summer at the playground and at Scott’s house. He was going to see Scott at school for the first time, though, and wanted to be there in time to show Scott where things were.
All summer Evan’s mom had let him choose whatever he wanted to wear. Normally, for school, his clothes were set out on his blow-up chair for him to get dressed. Maybe this year, now that he was in second grade, he’d be allowed to pick his own things for school.
There was a dark red T-shirt on the chair as well as the Hulk T-shirt. Evan put the red one away, not wanting his mom to change her mind, and quickly got dressed in the new jeans, which were still too stiff, and his favorite sneakers, which were green and had lights in the heel that flashed when you jumped real hard.
When he got downstairs there was a stack of pancakes and a cup of fruit waiting on the counter. Evan scrambled up and took a big bite of the pancakes, wondering if he could not eat the fruit cup.
“Don’t forget your fruit cup,” Evan’s mom said, and Evan wondered again if she could read his mind. “Would you like tuna in your sandwich today or bologna?”
“Tuna please,” Evan said around his giant mouthful of pancake.
His mom nodded and started fixing his lunch: sandwich, juice, an apple for recess, some goldfish crackers, and a cookie. It was a good lunch. Evan thought he would maybe share it with Scott.
“Almost ready? You were a slowpoke this morning. We need to leave soon.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
“Okay.”
They walked to Evan’s school, Ocean View Elementary, which was a few blocks over from where Evan lived. The building was made of red bricks, which made for good games of firefighter, pretending that the school was the firehouse. There was a playground with monkey bars, which Evan was good at now, and a field where they could run around and play kickball.
Evan didn’t hold his mom’s hand as they walked anymore. He was in second grade now. The whole summer he’d walked past the school on his way to Scott’s house and back; now it was suddenly alive again. By the time they arrived, kids were already running around the playground and screaming, and Evan quickly spotted Andy and Benji and Dean Simpson, who had a cast on his arm. No Scott. Not yet.
“I’m going to go in and meet your teacher,” Evan’s mom said. “Can you show me where your new classroom is, please?”
Evan was pretty sure she knew her way around. The school wasn’t all that big, and they had all had a day with their new teacher at the end of last semester. Maybe she’d forgotten, though, and she’d asked Evan for his help, so Evan nodded and slipped his hand into hers.
“This way, Mom.”
Evan’s second grade teacher was Ms. Hopkinson. She had blonde hair that came down to her shoulders, and she smiled a lot and smelled like candy. Today she was wearing navy blue slacks and a white shirt and had a red bow in her hair. Evan liked Ms. Hopkinson. She had a kind face.
“Hey, Evan,” Ms. Hopkinson said as he showed his mom into the classroom. There were a few other parents here with his classmates, so it wasn’t so bad.
“Hey, Ms. Hopkinson. This is my mom.”
“Stacey King,” his mom said, offering her hand to Ms. Hopkinson, who shook it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Did you have a good summer, Evan?”
“Yep. I got a new best friend. His name is Scott, and he starts here today.”
“Is that Scott Sparrow, by any chance?”
Evan nodded eagerly. “Is he in your class too?”
“Sure is.”
Evan wanted to do a happy dance but held it in.
“Should I keep them together or split them up?” Ms. Hopkinson asked Evan’s mom with a laugh.
“Scott is a great kid. I’m happy for them to sit together, as long as they’re not causing trouble.”
“They’re seven-year-old boys,” Ms. Hopkinson said. “They’re trouble most of the time.”
“Stacey,” someone called from the doorway, and Evan turned at the same time as his mom to see Mrs. Sparrow standing with Scott stuck to her side.
“Is this Scott?” Ms. Hopkinson asked, and Evan nodded. “You wanna show him around?”
“Sure,” Evan said enthusiastically.
“One second,” his mom said, grabbing hold of his T-shirt as Evan made to run over. She planted a kiss on his head and whispered to him, “Have a great first day of school. I’ll be here to pick you up later.”
“’Kay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom,” he mumbled.
“Go on,” she said.
Scott’s mom kissed him before she left too, on the cheek this time, and Evan didn’t make fun of him for it.
“This school is good,” Evan said, leading Scott to the hallway where they could hang up their outdoor jackets and schoolbags. “You get your own peg.”
They were in alphabetical order, so Scott’s peg wasn’t next to Evan’s. That was okay. After Scott had put his schoolbag away, Evan showed him the stack of brightly colored drawers where they could keep their pencil cases and lunch bags.
“Are you okay?” Evan asked. Scott was frowning, and he hadn’t spoken much since he arrived. This wasn’t the Scott Evan had known from the summer.
“Don’t want to go to this school,” Scott sniffed. “I wanna go to my school.”
“How come you’re not allowed anymore?”
“It was a school just for boys. Now stupid Lacey is in grade school, we all gotta go to the same place. And Tom was bein’ bullied at my school by some stupid jerks in his grade. He switched too.”
“Oh.”
“All my friends go to my school.”
Something twisted uncomfortably in Evan’s belly. “But I go to this school. And a lot of other nice people. There won’t be stupid jerks here who are mean to your brother. I promise it.”
He drew a cross over his chest. Scott nodded and seemed to brighten up.
“There’s tons of good stuff to do at recess. We’ve got monkey bars.”
“I’m good at monkey bars,” Scott said slowly.
“Me too. Should we do that at recess today?”
Scott nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
The bell rang, startling them both, and Scott looked over at Evan and grinned widely. Evan thought second grade might be the best one yet.
Evan winced and shuddered as his mouth filled with dirt, and he blinked back tears. Someone kicked him in the shin, and he let out a sharp cry, which meant the kid with his hand in Evan’s curly hair could shove his face back into the dirt again.
“Hey. Hey!”
The bigger boys scattered, and Evan heard a number of feet running toward him.
“Evan?”
His scalp hurt from where the older boy had been tugging on his hair, so when another person touched his head, ever so gently, Evan winced.
“Go get Ms. Hopkinson,” Scott said. Someone else ran away, and Evan finally rolled over onto his back with his eyes closed.
“You okay, buddy?” Scott said gently.
With his hand on Evan’s shoulder, Scott helped him to sit up. Evan knew his face was streaked with tears, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment and shame. No one knew he got beat up. Not his momma or his teacher or Andy or anyone.
>
Evan spat into the grass, trying to clear the dirt from his mouth.
“Here,” Scott said, pressing a juice box into his hand. “Swirl some of this around your mouth and spit.”
It felt like there was mud between his teeth, and Evan wanted to cry again. He did as he was told, punching the straw into the little silver circle and pulling the apple juice into his mouth, flushing the taste away.
“Who were those jerks?” Scott asked.
“Just some kids in the third grade,” Evan mumbled.
“They mean to you?”
Evan hesitated, then nodded.
“A lot?”
“Some.”
Scott scrambled to his feet and looked down at Evan, face flashing with anger. “You said kids at this school were nice!” he yelled. “You said!”
Evan sniffed, and without his permission, another tear rolled down his cheek. “I didn’t want you to go back to your old school,” he said. He coughed, then took another mouthful of juice. He could still taste mud on his tongue.
“Not like my mom would let me anyway,” Scott said. He still sounded angry. “Why were they beating you up, Evan?”
“’Cos I don’t have a dad,” Evan whispered. “That makes me a pansy.”
“That’s not true.” Scott dropped to his knees again, pressing his balled fists against his thighs. “That’s not true. I know a lot of kids who don’t have a dad. They’re not pansies, and neither are you.”
Evan used his shirtsleeve to wipe his eyes. His face felt sore, and he was pretty sure his knees were bleeding. He looked up and saw Ms. Hopkinson walking quickly across the playground, Andy at her side. She was wearing a red skirt today with a pink shirt and shoes that made clicky noises when she walked. He didn’t want to be seen crying in front of a girl, even a grown-up girl, so he scrambled to his feet, wincing when his knee and his side sparked with pain.
“Evan,” Ms. Hopkinson said. “What on earth happened?”
“Some big kids were kicking at him, Ms. Hopkinson,” Scott said, standing just in front of Evan, like a shield.
“So Andrew told me. Do you know who they were?”