“Yup,” he called out, burying his head under the covers.
Ugh, he thought. Let’s get this morning thing over with.
He threw the covers off, rotated himself to a sitting position, and put his feet on the carpeted floor. His toes gripped the carpet as he stretched his hands and arms high above his head and then stood up. Then he slapped himself in the face a couple of times to wake up and fell forward to the floor and started cranking out pushups.
One…two…three…
At fifty, he flipped over and worked through one hundred crunches.
Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.
He collapsed to the floor, his breath momentarily sucked out of him as his abs burned good after his early morning workout.
“Quinn, you up?” his other dad, Tim—whom he called Dad—asked through the door.
“Yep!” he answered.
“Okay.”
Quinn pulled himself off the floor and flexed in the mirror over his dresser. His abs were on point and his chest had a nice pump to it. He chuckled when he saw how wild his long, wavy, dirty-blonde bed-head hair looked in the mirror. Then he quickly made his bed and grabbed his towel from behind his door and made his way to the bathroom across the hall.
When he had finished showering, he wrapped the towel around his waist and shaved. Around him, he heard the quiet sounds of his family’s morning routine.
Daddio was downstairs in the kitchen, probably whipping up some eggs and turkey bacon for breakfast. Dad was in the shower and probably already ran five miles. He would have to leave for the law firm first and he’d bring Quinn to school on the way. Daddio didn’t have to be in the office at the small publishing company he owned until eight-thirty, so he had time to get all the morning rituals done, like making breakfast and packing three lunches.
Quinn finished dressing and checked himself in the mirror, approving the cute outfit he had put together. He wore a short-sleeved, blue-and-white gingham button-down shirt paired with grey shorts and navy-blue canvas shoes. It was still hot out and he didn’t want to sweat a lot.
In a few minutes, Quinn and his dads sat around the table and wolfed down some over-peppered scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, a banana, and a glass of orange juice. Dad was wearing one of his usual business suits, and Daddio wore some plaid boxers and tank top.
“Sorry about that,” Daddio said. “The filter-thing on the pepper popped off and I tried to scoop out what I could.”
“Thermodynamics, babe.” Dad responded, smiling. Daddio grinned back at him.
Quinn rolled his eyes. His dads were fitness nuts and they found ways to incorporate vitamin and nutritional hacks into their cooking. Thermodynamics pills, or fat burning pills, were basically shots of different kinds of pepper. Dad believed adding more pepper to your food saved tons of unnecessary spending on potentially bogus supplements—if you could handle the added heat and flavor.
“You excited for this weekend, Quinn?” Daddio asked.
Quinn nodded.
“I know I am,” Dad commented. “Three days without the law firm emailing me will be glorious.”
“Right,” Quinn responded. “Unless you’re going to turn off your cell phone, you’re going to be on it.”
“I won’t, I swear. In fact, challenge accepted, Captain Needa,” Dad said, sitting up and smiling,
“Not quite,” Daddio quipped. Needa was the captain of the Star Destroyer Avenger in Star Wars. Darth Vader Force-choked him for losing and failing to capture the escaping Millennium Falcon. As an avid Star Wars fan, Daddio worked in Star Wars references whenever he could. When Dad did it, Quinn knew the stakes were high.
“I’ll give you my phone. You can turn it off for me,” Dad added.
“Don’t fail me,” Daddio answered in as deep a voice as he could muster. Then he mimicked Darth Vader’s breathing. Quinn laughed.
Dad rolled his eyes and smiled. “My nerds.”
“Oh, you love it, too, babe,” Daddio said.
Quinn chuckled as the three guys laughed and finished their breakfast.
❖
“You have practice after school, right?” Dad asked, pulling into the school parking lot.
“Yup.”
“All right, well, have a great day and may the Force be with you.”
Quinn chuckled and rolled his eyes. “You’re so weird.”
“You love it, Batman.”
“You’re out of control.”
Dad stopped the car and smiled at his son. “Give us a hug.”
Quinn leaned over and hugged his father. “See you tonight.”
“Yep. Don’t forget we have to finish packing for the weekend. Make sure Blake is ready to go in the morning, okay?”
“Will do, Dad,” Quinn said, getting out of the car. He grabbed his backpack from the back seat and shut the door, waving to his dad as he turned and walked toward the high-school’s beige-and-red-brick main building.
“Aww, did ya get dropped off by your daddy, little boy?” Darien James asked. A few of his cronies, including Kyle and Tony, his loyal followers, laughed around him.
Quinn glared at him but continued walking. “They’re my dads, not my daddies.”
“Oh, well, I’m so sorry. Did you hear that guys? They’re his dads, not his daddies,” Darien repeated with a sing-songy, derogatory tone.
“Just keep walking,” Blake said, catching up to him and grabbing Quinn’s arm before the situation escalated. “It’s only the third day of school and they’re not worth it.”
“Maybe not,” Quinn said, “but it would be great to punch his lights out one day.”
“And then you’d get suspended or worse,” Blake said, reminding him of the consequences of such an outburst.
“Yeah, that’s right, take your little boyfriend away, Blakeypoo,” Darien called after them through a fit of laughter.
Blake flipped him the bird, unbeknownst to Quinn.
“You rarely have to take that kind of crap from them,” Quinn said. “Besides, they don’t even know I’m gay.”
“But I do, and it bothers me that they think they can treat you like that. What do you think will happen when you come out? Are they magically going to go away or stop? They shouldn’t pick on you in the first place for any reason, let alone your sexuality.”
“I guess.”
“Besides, if one of us is gonna throw a punch, everyone expects me to do it. You, not so much.”
Quinn looked hard at his friend. “I’m not a wimp.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Blake said, slowing down. He turned to face Quinn. “You’re just, the good guy. I’m the bad guy. I’ve got more demons and skeletons in my closet and everyone knows it. It makes perfect sense for me to punch Darien’s lights out for you.”
“Maybe,” Quinn said. “But if I do it, maybe people will pay attention and think about why I did it. ‘What pushed the good kid to lose it and lash out on Darien?’ they’ll wonder.”
“Sounds like every school shooting, to be honest. No one knows why the kid did it because no one was paying attention.”
“You’re getting deep,” Quinn said, chuckling.
“No, I’m getting real.”
“Uh-huh. So, how was your morning?”
Blake shrugged. “The usual, I guess. My dad was already up and out of the house when I got up, and my mom was still in bed, probably pissed off or passed out from last night or something. They got in some big fight about the grocery bill and I just…I tuned it out.”
“Did they drink a lot again?” Quinn asked.
“Who knows. I didn’t think about it when I picked up the empty beer cans from the living room carpet and the kitchen counter. Beer reeks when it’s been sitting around all night.”
“Oh,” Quinn said. It wasn’t a smell he was familiar with.
“Did you eat some breakfast?”
“Yeah, Pop-Tarts, the breakfast of champions.”
“Better than nothing, I guess.”
“Hey boys,” Ravone Timber called out from a bench. “Come and sit a spell before hell.”
“O.M.G., gurl, love your hair,” Quinn said the minute his eyes set upon the red streak she had added to her normally brown hair. It matched the red leather jacket she wore over a white T-shirt and a well-fitted black skirt.
“Thank you, hot stuff. Love your outfit. And Blake…” Ravone said, eyeing Blake’s standard outfit of blue jeans, faded dark blue converse sneakers, and a T-shirt. “Roguishly handsome as usual.”
“I try not to disappoint,” he said, smiling. “The red streak in your hair is badass.”
“What about me, you guys?” Loren Davis asked. He wore red converse sneakers with black and white horizontal striped leggings that disappeared under a black leather skirt. On top, she wore a gray T-shirt with the words “Rock on, Queer.”
Loren self-identified as genderqueer and used both he and she pronouns, thoroughly confusing the quaint folk of Portsmouth, an accepting east-coast city—but it was no Los Angeles.
“Tramp,” Blake said.
“Slut,” Quinn added.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Loren said, smiling.
“Seriously, your outfit is fierce today,” Quinn said. “I’m not sure I could pull it off.”
“Don’t,” Loren said abruptly.
“Oh, okay,” Quinn said, startled.
“It’s my look and you can’t have it,” Loren added, winking at Quinn, who smiled.
“There goes Professor Xavier,” Ravone said, nodding toward one of the teachers entering the building. Professor Xavier and Mr. Spock were two of the affectionate nicknames the students bestowed upon Mr. St. Germain, the high-school’s nerdiest science teacher. His penchant for all-things science fiction came up often in class, and the students knew he could be easily pulled off-topic with questions about the comic universes, Star Wars, Star Trek, and anything else both nerdy and geeky.
“Here comes your boy, shirtless as usual.” Blake said, gently punching Quinn in the shoulder.
Quinn felt the blood rush to his face as he nervously swatted Blake’s hand away. “Stop it, B.”
“Aw, you’re blushing,” Ravone said.
“Too cute,” Loren added.
“Guys, stop it,” Quinn said, losing focus of everything around him as a shirtless Keegan Miller rolled closer on his longboard. That day, Keegan wore black sunglasses and wireless headphones on his head over his dirty-blond hair, a white and blue-striped button-down shirt tied around his waist over black shorts, and dark gray skateboarding sneakers. He carried his backpack in his right hand. His tight abs flexed with every dip and push he made to propel himself forward.
“Are you gonna say something?” Ravone asked.
“He better,” Blake said.
“Give him space, guys,” Loren said. “But you better say something, just saying.”
Twenty feet…fifteen feet…ten feet…
“Hi Keegan,” Quinn called out, his voice sounding a little higher than he liked. Keegan looked over briefly and nodded, barely raising a few fingers to wave as he whizzed by.
“Ouch,” Blake said softly.
Quinn took a deep breath and sighed. His beautiful crush had once again passed him by. Nothing had changed over the summer, and Keegan, who was proudly out of the closet, hadn’t shown any interest in dating anyone yet. Quinn hoped to change that, but as they started junior year, his time was running out; someone else might snag Keegan’s heart first.
The first bell rang out, alerting the students it was time to come in. Near the school’s entrance, Keegan pulled on his shirt, picked up his longboard, and ran into the building.
“Okay, let’s go,” Loren said. “There are things to accomplish before the 3:20 bell.”
“Like what?” Ravone quipped.
“Learning,” Loren said, drawing out the word. The group of friends began walking to the covered entrance of the school.
“And track practice,” Quinn added.
“Well, for you guys. When school’s out, I’m outta here for three days. Aren’t you two going camping this weekend?” Loren asked.
“Yup,” Quinn and Blake answered simultaneously.
“Well, if I don’t see you later, have fun.”
“We plan to,” Quinn said, eyeing Blake.
His best friend smiled and nodded to him. “Yeah, it will be great to get away for a few days.”
1-3 | Bullies and Distractions
Blake
Blake shifted in his seat during the last period of the day, which for him was English Lit, his best friend’s favorite subject. The teacher had just finished handing out the reading list for the semester, which sucked. All of it sucked, and Blake didn’t care. He desperately needed a change and a break from all of the bullshit in his family life.
“Mister Hargreaves?”
“What?” Blake said, startled.
“Are you with us, young man?” Mrs. White, his English Literature teacher, asked.
“Yeah, sorry.” He hated when teachers caught him daydreaming, but sometimes they droned on and on and his own worries crept out from the shadows of his mind.
“Perhaps you’d like to share with the class what’s so much more inter…”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Blake snapped, making direct eye contact with Mrs. White. It was a bold move that could have been mistaken as threatening, but Blake gambled Mrs. White looked forward to the 3:20 bell as much as he did—although Blake would be able to take out his frustrations on the running track or the Portsmouth Pavement.
“All right then. Let’s continue with the reading assignments, shall we?” Mrs. White said.
❖
Thirty minutes later, Blake had walked into the locker room to change into running shorts and a tank top with most of the team. The guys around him joked about this and that, but most were upset the coaches didn’t cancel any of the practices before the long weekend.
Quinn rushed in and squeezed into the space between Blake and the next guy over. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just glad the day’s over, you know?”
“Ugh, I know what you mean. I can’t believe they gave us homework over the weekend. That's so obnoxious.”
“I only got math and social studies homework.”
“Yeah, but still.”
❖
Blake, Quinn, Darien and the rest of the track team ambled onto the track field where Coach Tomlin was waiting for them.
“There are only two ways off this field, maggots. A pine box, or a school bus,” Coach Tomlin yelled. “The choice is yours.”
Coach Tomlin, a man with a slightly hunched stature and a small gut, wore beige khaki shorts that sat too high on his waist and a maroon, tucked-in Portsmouth High polo shirt. His pale legs disappeared into maroon crew socks and gray sneakers. White curls of hair spilled out from underneath the blue and yellow U. S. Navy ball cap he wore. As white as the Coach’s hair seemed to be, dark gray fuzzy eyebrows hovered over the auto-tinting sunglasses that rested on the bridge of his nose.
“I know it’s almost the weekend, but we can’t stop. I need to make sure you’re all fit as fiddles for next week’s races. So, get stretching, and in about fifteen minutes you’re all going to run the New Castle loop.”
The boys groaned because the New Castle loop meant a nearly ten-mile run around Portsmouth through New Castle Island and then back to the high school. Most of the boys would run it in about seventy minutes while others would take ninety minutes. Quinn started stretching and quickly texted his dad that he would not be free until five-thirty that night.
“What are you doing?” Blake asked, looking at Quinn as he played with his phone.
“Texting my dad,” Quinn said, “I need to let him know when to pick me up. Do you want him to pick you up as well?”
“Sure,” Blake said, “that would be great. Would it be okay to sleep over your house tonight? I don’t really want to be around my family if I don’t have to right now. Even though it’s Friday and I probably won’t see them because they’ll drink themselves into oblivion, I just…”
“Of course,” Quinn said. “Are you packed?”
“Yeah,” Blake said, “I did most of it last night. I just need to grab my bags and my sleeping bag. We’re using your air mattress this time, right?”
“Yep,” Quinn answered.
“Great. It’s more comfortable than mine.”
“Alright you maggots!” The retired navy-officer-turned-coach yelled, “Enough stretching, head on out! See you back in seventy minutes.”
The boys groaned again, but they dutifully started running away from the school, their captain leading them on the run.
“I’m glad we don’t have to get up early tomorrow.” Blake said as he started running alongside Quinn.
“Well, that’s not true. We have to leave the house by six, so…”
“Yeah, but I meant, we don’t have to go to school tomorrow. My legs are going to be so sore in the morning.”
“Gotcha.”
The heat and humidity of the late summer sun bore down on the track team as they ran across the narrow roads and bridges that carried them onto New Castle Island. Most of the boys had pulled off their shirts and tucked them into the waistband of their running shorts. Sweat poured down Blake’s face and torso as they rounded the tight curves of New Castle Island, narrowly dodging cars that slowed down to accommodate the entire Portsmouth High School boy’s track team. At about the halfway point, they passed the girl’s track team, running in the opposite direction. They waved and high-fived each other and continued on toward the school.
When they got back to the athletic fields, most of the guys collapsed onto the soft grass of the football field that was inside the running track. Coach Tomlin had set up Gatorade stations while they were out, and the boys eagerly sucked down as much Gatorade as they could to replenish their dehydrated bodies.
Most of the guys stretched, and Blake was no exception. As he sat on the grass watching the late guys return to the field, he saw Darien, Kyle, and Tony eyeing Quinn. Then, Darien walked over to Quinn and said something that made Quinn turn away in disgust. He watched Darien push Quinn, who spun around, slapping Darien’s hand away from his body. Some of the other guys began to notice the commotion and soon all eyes were watching Darien and Quinn.
The Guardians Omnibus Page 3