Will

by Maria Boyd

  How long have you been in Sydney?

  We moved up at the end of last year.

  Big difference?

  Yeah, I suppose it is. I don’t know, I haven’t really seen a lot of it. It’s been school and around here mainly with the footy boys. St. Andrew’s is different to the last school I was at. Girls make a real difference.

  I bet they do.

  Mark grinned at me. No, I mean everybody just acts more normal, more natural.

  Could you imagine Jock and Tim in a coed school? They couldn’t cope.

  But that’s just it. They wouldn’t stand a chance. The girls would pull them into line straightaway. Most of the blokes don’t carry on with all that tough-man stuff because if they do there’s always someone to tell them to pull their head in.

  St. Andrew’s could do with a little more of that, just ask the Freak.

  So how come you had to leave in your final year—that would be pretty hard, wouldn’t it?

  Yep … but there was no way around it. Dad was retrenched and got this great payout but he … couldn’t get another job. He’s pretty old and I’m the youngest. He started stressing about everything: Mum, retirement, me, uni.

  He reached over to the glove box, opened it and rummaged around until he found a cigarette.

  Don’t tell the boys, they’d give me shit on the field. I just started again, but not for good. He took a drag. I watched Dad turn from a hotshot businessman to this major stress-head. That went on for six months and then the job in Sydney came up. It was Mum and me who convinced him to take it. I could put up with leaving more than I could see Dad crack up. He didn’t say anything but I reckon he bought the car to say thanks.

  That would suck. I changed the subject. So you know what you want to do next year?

  As soon as I asked I knew that he would. He was just one of those guys.

  Law at ANU.

  That’d be right.

  He stumped out the cigarette after three drags. What about you?

  I figure I’ve got at least another year and a half before I have to decide. Right now, I’m pretty happy just cruising.

  Let him know I don’t need to overachieve to be a success.

  Right. So is the musical going on the CV?

  Well, at least I didn’t volunteer to be involved! Sarcastic wanker!

  I hear your audition was pretty special.

  I grinned in spite of myself. Jock and Tim can never keep their mouths closed.

  Actually, it wasn’t them who told me.

  That shut me up.

  What do you mean?

  He looked over at me and grinned.

  Come on, mate, not funny! Just tell me.

  Who do you reckon?

  I wouldn’t have asked if I knew, would I?

  He paused for two more seconds. I was over the game.

  Elizabeth.

  He turned his head slightly to watch my reaction. My whole body snapped frozen vegetable shut.

  Elizabeth?

  He looked at me as if I was stupid.

  Yeah, you know, the one I play opposite, the one I have to kiss.

  How did she know?

  She said something about being on the bus you mooned.

  That would be right. Of course she was.

  Yeah. She says you looked straight at her.

  My whole body turned an instant microwave red.

  In fact, I think she said she was the one who tried to save your arse.

  That’s where I knew her from! The girl with the ponytail and the killer death stare. Great, so she’d really be interested.

  No way, she was majorly pissed off, I remember.

  Yeah, she told me she cut you a look but that was because the Year Twelves were giving her a hard time about telling everyone to shut up. It was her who first saw Danielli and Waddlehead. She told one of her friends to let you know but she reckons you just stood there with a big grin on your face. In fact she said you’ve done that twice now. She thinks it’s pretty funny.

  The rays of embarrassment were now replacing the clapped-out heating system in the car. Right, well, that’s it then. I’d be expelled for pulling out of the musical and be the laughingstock of Lakeside for my entire life.

  Mark now had a huge grin on his face, the bastard. And there I was feeling sorry for him. What was I thinking, feeling sorry for the bloke? He operated just like the boys, right down to the delivery of the St. Andrew’s piss-take.

  What? I challenged. So what if she was the girl who saw me? It doesn’t bother me.

  No. No, I can see that.

  I looked out the window, trying really hard to look fascinated with the scenery.

  OK, I admit it, I said finally. I think she’s pretty hot. Don’t you?

  I threw it out there as casually as I could.

  Yeah, I suppose she is.

  You suppose!

  So you are interested.

  It was a statement, not a question.

  Maybe I’m a little interested.

  He was nodding and laughing. I knew it!

  What do you mean you knew it?

  It was just obvious, wasn’t it? All of a sudden Chris is on at me about meeting you, and he starts to ask questions about the lead girl. Then the other day I watched you stand dead in front of Elizabeth with your mouth wide open …

  Bastard!

  Hey, don’t blame me, I saw you pretending to read that stupid newsletter and tried to bail you out of what looked like a really embarrassing situation.

  OK, OK! So shut up laughing for a minute and tell me the truth. You can’t tell me you’re not interested. You’re always laughing and hugging and carrying on with her. It’s like you’re already boyfriend-girlfriend.

  Mark took his eyes from the road for a second and looked at me.

  Man, you have got it bad. Look, we’ve become good friends. I’m used to having a lot of girl friends from my old school. We always carried on like that.

  Yeah, right. Good comeback, Will! Good comeback!

  Look, there’s no doubt she’s a stunner …

  So you do—

  He cut me off. And funny, smart and feisty and every now and then, not often, she gets really, really fiery. One time in rehearsals Elizabeth and Andrews nearly lost it with one another and he’s a hard man to get started.

  I knew there was a reason why I liked the girl!

  But the thing I like about her the most is that she doesn’t spend any time thinking about what other people think about her. She is who she is without any crap.

  It was around this time I figured I had no hope. So are you going to ask her out?

  He looked at me, smiled and said nothing.

  Come on, mate, I persisted. Are you going to ask her out?

  Why, are you?

  Look, the way I see it, there is no way a girl like Elizabeth is going to give me a second look with someone like you sniffing around.

  No, mate, you’ve got it all wrong.

  Give me a break. All I’m asking is that you save me from making a complete idiot of myself in front of her yet again. Just tell me if you’re interested. If you’re not then I’ll eventually, someday, maybe get enough courage to go and talk to her. But if you’re keen I’ll just back off right now.

  He said nothing. It began to dawn on me that maybe there might be the slightest possibility he wasn’t interested.

  Mark, are you really not interested?

  The car went quiet; the only noise was from the dodgy AM radio station, the only one that worked. It was after a whole chorus of some really bad love song that he finally answered.

  No.

  She’s seeing someone?

  No.

  Then why wasn’t he interested?

  You must have someone back in Melbourne then.

  Not exactly, no …

  Got your eye on one of the younger chorus members?

  He looked at me like I was perverted.

  My brain was still percolating. You could nearly hear the slurps and s
wishes. He was a good-looking guy who was smart, could sing and dance and play football.

  Well, what other reason could there possibly be, unless you’ve found out something really strange about Elizabeth that you can’t tell me.

  He was silent again and then let out his breath like an overfilled bike tire.

  No, Will, I’m not seeing anyone, I’m not having a secret love affair with an older woman, and Elizabeth is perfectly sane. It’s just that I’m …

  Pause.

  It’s just that I’m … gay.

  I was so busy trying to figure out why he wouldn’t be interested I completely missed what he’d said.

  Will, did you hear me?

  No, sorry, I was just thinking …

  Forget it.

  No, what did you say?

  I’m not saying it again.

  Come on.

  Will, when someone outs themselves to a near stranger it’s a pretty big thing to do. I’d kind of appreciate it if you were actually listening.

  Right, sorry, Mark.

  Outs himself, what does he mean outs himself?

  Will, I’m not interested in Elizabeth because I’m gay.

  I sat dead still and didn’t look at him.

  Gay.

  He’s gay.

  He’s GAY!

  The bad love song had turned into another really bad love song. It was time to get out.

  Right. Look, I’m nearly home. You can just drop me here.

  Will, it’s all right, I can take you home, just tell me where …

  No, really, Mark, I’m nearly home and I’ve taken you out of your way. I’d prefer to walk.

  He’d pulled over to the curb and was slowing down, trying to talk to me.

  Will …

  I clutched the door handle and waited until he came to a complete stop.

  No, no, I’m fine. Here’s good.

  Will …

  I opened the door and got out.

  OK, thanks heaps. See you later.

  And with that I bolted around the corner.

  Gay!

  Gay! He’s bloody gay! It was midnight and for the past two hours that was all that had been going through my head. That and You dickhead! It’s not like I was homophobic. I’d sussed that out in Pastoral Care last year. I was cool with it. I didn’t care what anyone did. As long as they didn’t try to come on to me.

  But Mark played footy. Maybe if he didn’t and he was just in the musical, it would have made more sense. Because they were meant to sing and dance and stuff, weren’t they? I knew there were a couple of famous footy blokes who were gay, but Mark played football with Jock and Tim! Wait till they found out!

  It wasn’t as if I didn’t have a right to be a little freaked out. I mean there I am and I don’t even know the guy, he’s giving me a lift home and he tells me he’s gay. Any normal bloke would feel just a little uncomfortable, wouldn’t they?

  Just because he gave me a lift doesn’t mean anything. We were talking about Elizabeth. And he guessed I was interested, so it wasn’t as if he would have thought I was gay. No, no one would think that I was gay … would they? I mean, I didn’t look gay. Did I? I was in the musical, but I wasn’t performing. It was different when you were in the band. You were a muso and musos aren’t usually gay, the singers and the dancers are the gay ones. Not the girls, though; they’re always the hot ones.

  What was I going to say to the bloke the next time I saw him? Hi, I’m Will Armstrong and I’m not gay? But then maybe that was why he cornered me in the first place. Then he had the perfect excuse to offer me a lift home. And then by bringing up Elizabeth he had the perfect way of figuring out if I was interested in him. Maybe he set up the whole thing to find out my sexual orientation. Maybe I was giving off mixed messages. Maybe, maybe, maybe … Shit, maybe he was right. Maybe I was gay!

  Monday morning

  For God’s sake, Will, you’re not gay!

  Chris had come round to pick me up for school. He’d just got his Provisional license and had managed to scam the car for the day. I’d barely slept all night and looked pretty bad. The recurring theme for the night was my own sexuality. Could you be seventeen and not know you were gay? Could it be possible that I was gay and I had missed it? Maybe I was in, what do they call it on TV, denial? Then I’d get these pictures in my head of me in a pair of tights singing onstage but it wasn’t with Elizabeth, it was with Mark! We’d get to the kissing scene and then I’d run screaming from the hall, because of my state of denial.

  I knew I couldn’t tell a soul. I had to sort this one out for myself.

  But then Chris said those magic words.

  Will, you look like shit.

  Chris, I think I’m gay. I’ve been thinking about it all night. It makes perfect sense. I play the guitar. I’m good at English. I’m in the musical. And there was that time in Year Seven when I accidentally looked at another guy at the urinal. I didn’t mean to, but it’s something I’ve never forgotten and if I wasn’t gay I would have forgotten it by now. Sure, he got me by the throat and accused me of being a pervert. But you know, I suppose he had every right, right?

  Calm down, mate.

  No, really, Chris, I’m wired! I’ve been thinking it through all night—

  Will, you’re not gay.

  Chris, you don’t know. Even you were giving me crap about asking about Mark.

  Man, you really have lost it. You’re carrying on like some kind of nutter! Wasn’t the whole conversation about Elizabeth?

  He was looking at me like I was a nutter. A girl, you idiot!

  I told Chris about The Conversation with Mark.

  So he’s not interested in Elizabeth, then.

  That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Your best friend just outs himself to you and you say, He’s not interested in Elizabeth!

  Then finally it hit me.

  He’s not interested in Elizabeth.

  So he wasn’t a threat to me. I could be interested in Elizabeth. Maybe I actually had a chance with Elizabeth!

  I’m not gay.

  Chris was looking at me very strangely. OK, you have definitely lost it. Meet me in the music room during homeroom. I’m worried about you.

  I just felt relieved.

  The music room

  I can’t believe this morning was for real, Will. I mean, it was pretty funny but you looked like you were dead serious. You’ve been all over the place lately. Are you sure there’s nothing else going on? You didn’t even go on like this when your dad …

  Chris stopped himself. But we both knew what he had been going to say. It jolted my gut like a mini explosion. We hadn’t talked about Dad since the day it happened. That was the way I played it and Chris respected that. In the beginning he asked if I was OK but he stopped eventually. They nearly always do if you say you’re fine often enough.

  Will? Will, mate, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even spoken about it.

  I could feel myself walking out the door, escaping into the quad and wiping it from my memory. But I knew if I did Chris would feel even worse.

  I spoke as normally as I could but my mouth had lost all its spit.

  Things are really weird at the moment. I can’t explain it. I just want stuff to get back to normal.

  Chris was looking at me. We both knew that the kind of normal I was talking about was never going to happen.

  The bell rang for the end of homeroom. I walked out before Chris could ask me if I was all right again.

  I was seriously thinking about checking out for the rest of the day, but I knew Danielli would be onto me in a millisecond. I was antsy, though, ready for something. It was when I was walking up to the quad from the music room that it came to me. For the past three years Jock and Tim and me had had the plan of Glad wrapping the teachers’ toilets. Jock still had the Glad wrap in his locker. But each year we came up with a different reason why we couldn’t: Year 8 we didn’t have the balls, Year 9 we thought it was too disgusting, Year 10 too juvenile, and by Year 11
we just thought it was really, really funny.

  We spent recess scheming. Jock was always good at making sure we’d covered all areas so as not to get busted. It was risky, especially for me, but I’d been Mr. Brownnosed Musical Boy for way too long.

  Maths was just before lunch and since we were all in different classes, it worked perfectly. Ten minutes before the end of the lesson, we met outside the canteen. Tim was the lookout. The toilets were outside the main building and were easy access, as long as no one was watching from any of the windows, but the risk only quadrupled the fun. After a minute’s debate, we decided just to get the male toilets. There was the potential for way too much explanation if we were busted in the ladies’.

  The job was done in minutes, or so we thought, but then the Glad wrap wouldn’t stick because the bowl was wet. I didn’t have time to think how gross it was as I got a paper towel and wiped the whole toilet seat and bowl down. Once it was completely dry it clung on beautifully. Jock kept flicking it to make sure it wasn’t going to come off. I told him he’d have to wipe down the next toilet bowl if he stuffed it up so he stopped. Jock shoved the Glad wrap down his pants and kept it as a souvenir. I went to our own toilets and scrubbed my fingers, hands and arms, wishing I had some of Nana’s disinfectant, then went back to maths and waited five minutes for the bell.

  There was nothing unusual in us bolting over to the canteen at the beginning of lunch, but this time we weren’t thinking about food. The three of us stood in different positions and watched the traffic outside the toilets. Nothing happened, but then two of the PE teachers came bolting out of the toilets—one was cracking up, the other one not so impressed. They went back to the gym and the other teachers came out and went in to have a look. Ten minutes into lunch I reckon at least half the staff were at the toilets. It was only when Waddlehead came over that everyone, including the staff, bolted. No one had a clue who did it. I hadn’t laughed so loud and so hard forever. Perfect! Things were getting back to normal—including me.

  Retarded homophobe Neanderthal

  But normal didn’t mean having to face a guy you hardly knew to apologize for acting like an idiot. I was really tempted to forget it ever happened but I couldn’t. It must have taken a lot of guts for Mark to tell me he was gay and I’d turned around and treated him like he had some sort of contagious disease. He’d probably told Elizabeth I was a retarded homophobe Neanderthal and she shouldn’t have anything to do with me. And I couldn’t blame him. I had reacted like a retard.