Swimmer Boy

by Jay Argent

  Chapter 4

  It was raining, as it often did in Fairmont at the end of October. The hot days of late summer were over, and nature was preparing for winter. Many trees had already lost their leaves, and the ones that were still hanging on were colored yellow and red. Liam held his umbrella with both hands, fighting against the wind. Just as he arrived in the schoolyard, the first bell rang, calling the students to start a new week of school.

  Liam walked to the school alone, as he had done throughout his nine weeks in Fairmont. Part of him liked the solitude because it gave him time to think, and his young mind, indeed, was full of thoughts. Still, he missed Matthew and those mornings when they had met in front of Matthew’s home and walked to school together. Matthew had always been full of energy, unlike Liam, who hated early mornings.

  The door to the history classroom was locked, and Liam waited in the corridor with the other students. Sam was unexpectedly early. Liam didn’t like Sam, but he had to admit that the jock had a pretty decent body. To tell the truth, “decent” was an understatement.

  “Hot” would be more accurate, Liam thought, and he found himself smiling. Their eyes met; Sam’s were full of anger and hatred. Liam turned his head away quickly so as not to provoke him.

  Before Sam could do or say anything else, Mr. Timothy, their history teacher, arrived and opened the door. The students meandered into the room as Mr. Timothy switched on the video projector and began to speak. Liam listened carefully while the teacher lectured them on the most significant events of the First World War. It was clear that questions about the subject would appear on the final exam.

  As Mr. Timothy wrapped up the topic, Liam felt something hit the back of his neck. He assumed that it was a piece of Sam’s eraser. Since the jock was too dumb to take any notes during classes, the best way he could think of to use his eraser was to toss it, piece by piece, at Liam. Liam didn’t mind Sam doing it, but he was devastated when he glanced back and saw that his dream boy, the blond swimmer, had joined the club. His cute and friendly face was clearly false, Liam decided.

  Time was creeping past, and Mr. Timothy went on and on. Finally, the bell rang. Liam collected his pencils and notes and put them into his bag. He was close to the door when Sam and his friends rushed out of the room. As he passed, Sam pushed Liam into the doorframe.

  “Dude! That must have hurt. You should watch where you’re walking!” Sam yelled.

  He grinned venomously, and his friends were laughing. Liam looked at the blond swimmer; for a moment, he thought he could see compassion in his cute face. Then the swimmer followed Sam into the hallway.

  Luckily, Liam’s next class was chemistry. He had started to like his ice-hockey-maniac lab partner. The boy’s name was Jacob, and he was pretty cool after all. He wasn’t a jock but just enjoyed watching sports on TV, and Liam was more than willing to forgive him that handicap. Nobody was perfect, after all, and Jacob behaved decently and didn’t throw anything at him.

  “What do you like to watch on TV?” Jacob asked after a long story about yesterday’s NHL results.

  “Well … Teen Wolf, for example,” Liam said shyly and read his mistake immediately in Jacob’s face.

  “Oh,” Jacob said. After a long pause, he added, “Isn’t that kind of … kind of gay or something?”

  Liam blushed.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Jacob said and jumped to the next topic, which was ice hockey, of course. Liam decided not to talk to Jacob again about his obsession with TV series featuring half-naked guys.

  Lunchtime finally came, and thanks to a too-light breakfast, Liam’s stomach was growling loudly. He scooped an enormous amount of pasta carbonara onto his plate and looked for an empty seat in the dining room when, suddenly, somebody pushed him from behind. Liam and his lunch crashed to the floor, and the whole dining room exploded with laughter.

  “Don’t you like the pasta? Or do you just prefer eating off the floor?” Sam asked loudly.

  Liam was close to tears and tried in vain to clean his white shirt. To escape the embarrassing situation, he rushed to the restroom. The bacon, eggs, and cream had left marks on his shirt, but he was able to wipe away the solid pieces of food. Fortunately, there was no tomato sauce in the pasta, but one could still read the day’s menu on his shirt.

  As if the whole situation hadn’t been bad enough, the door opened and the blond swimmer entered the restroom. Liam tensed, assuming the jock wanted to push his head into the sink and wet his hair. Liam took hold of the handles near him, but to his surprise, the jock walked to the urinals and unzipped his pants, hardly paying any attention to Liam. When he realized that the jock wasn’t going to do anything to him, Liam left the restroom quietly.

  Feeling hungry but too afraid to return to the dining room, Liam found a hiding place on the staircase that led to the basement. He waited there for the next class to start. Once the bell rang, he wiped away the tears from his eyes and left. Outside, the storm had gotten worse. The drainage system couldn’t remove all of the water coming from the sky, and the schoolyard was flooding.

  The day continued, and Liam’s next two classes were math and biology. This time, Liam didn’t feel anything hitting his back; apparently, the back-seat terrorists had run out of erasers. When the class ended, learning from his earlier mistake, he waited to leave until Sam and his friends were gone. The strategy worked, and he was able to avoid another collision with the doorframe.

  After his last class, Liam checked the hallway. It was empty, so he assumed it was safe to walk to his locker. When he opened the locker, he heard footsteps behind him and turned immediately, looking scared. A young girl, most likely a freshman, walked by looking at him, puzzled. Liam turned back to his locker, packed his bag, and headed out.

  It had stopped raining, but the sky was still dark. Liam hurried across the schoolyard, fearing that the rain would start again. He hated getting wet. Once, when he and Matthew had been wandering in the forest and a storm surprised them, they had tried to find shelter under a big tree but ended up soaked to their skins. Thinking how hot Matthew had looked in his wet clothes brought a little smile to his face.

  Just as he walked through the gate and turned toward home, he heard someone speaking behind him.

  “Well, well … where are you going, pansy boy?” It was Sam.

  Liam turned. Across the yard, he saw Sam and his friends, the blond swimmer and the other dark-haired jock. Liam started walking again, faster, and heard the boys follow him. He turned left at the next intersection and began to run, but his pursuers ran after him.

  Liam had a good head start, but he knew that he couldn’t outrun the jocks. He had to find a place to hide, and he had to find it before they got too close. He saw an abandoned gas station and ran behind it. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. The building and a tall fence blocked his escape. He looked desperately for a door or a hole in the fence, but there were none.

  He saw a large trashcan in the corner and crouched behind it. Seconds later, the jocks appeared at a run. “Are you sure you saw him come back here?” the black-haired boy asked.

  “No, but where else he could be?” Sam answered.

  The blond swimmer walked toward the trashcan and opened the cover. Liam held his breath. He was sure that they would discover him any second.

  “Shit, what a smell,” said the swimmer boy. He dropped the cover and took a couple of steps back. It started to rain again.

  “Why are we chasing him?” said the swimmer. “Let’s leave before the rain gets heavier.” Sam looked around one more time and agreed.

  After the jocks had left, Liam waited another fifteen minutes before he dared to emerge from his hiding place. What a perfect day, he thought sarcastically when he finally saw his house. He was soaked, tired, and annoyed.

  “Okay, guys, that’s it. Let’s finish up. Tomorrow we start at half-past four!” Coach Hanson shouted, and the jocks hit the showers. Alex took the shower next to Patrick.
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  “Have you decided which colleges you’re going to apply to?” Patrick asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a couple in mind,” Alex answered. He explained his plans to Patrick, who listened carefully.

  Patrick was more or less the only guy on the team that Alex could talk to about his academic aspirations. That bothered him. He knew that graduating from high school would be an achievement in itself for Sam, but he had hoped to go to the same college with Rick, at least. The sad thing was that Rick hadn’t shown much interest in college so far.

  Alex agreed to have pizza with Patrick and his girlfriend that weekend. Then he said goodbye to Rick, who was dressing in a hurry as he had a weekly family dinner with his parents. Alex assumed that Rick’s workaholic father wanted to make amends for his absence by taking his family to dinner once a week.

  “Alex, I need to talk to you,” Sam said in a serious tone.

  Alex, who had just removed his speedo and was looking for a fresh pair of boxers in his sports bag, stopped and turned around. He gave Sam a questioning look, but Sam gestured to him to get dressed before he continued the conversation.

  “Am I decent enough now?” Alex joked once he had put on his boxers, socks, and a t-shirt.

  “Fine,” Sam muttered and continued in a louder voice, “I need some money. Could you loan me some?” He looked embarrassed; apparently, it didn’t suit his badass reputation to ask for help.

  “How much?” Alex said, taking a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet.

  “One-thousand, five-hundred dollars,” Sam replied casually.

  “Wow,” Alex said, putting the bill back into his wallet. “I don’t have that much money. Why do you need it?”

  Sam looked somber. “It’s better that you don’t know.”

  Alex tried to fish for more information, but Sam kept quiet. Let’s hope he’s not involved in anything criminal, Alex thought as they left the swimming hall together.

  After the heavy rain on Monday, Wednesday evening looked much better. It was dry, and the sun had been shining the whole day. It was rather cold, which wasn’t surprising, given the season.

  Sam smirked suddenly. “You should’ve seen the face of that pansy boy when I met him today in the dining room,” he said.

  Alex sighed. “You didn’t push his lunch to the floor again, did you?” he asked.

  “Unfortunately not, the principal was there,” Sam replied, annoyed. “The old man won’t always be standing there, though. I’ll get my chance.”

  And he will get his chance, Alex thought. Probably tomorrow, and on how many more days?

  “Why are we bullying that … pansy boy?” Alex finally asked.

  Sam stopped walking and glared at Alex. “Haven’t you seen how he stares at us? Why are you defending him? Don’t tell me you’re a cocksucker, too,” he said.

  “I’m not defending anybody, and I don’t even know him. I was just asking,” Alex said, feeling irritated. “I need to go. Sofia is probably waiting for me.”

  Alex drove from the parking lot, almost hitting another car at the entrance, and turned toward his home. Sam was always playing his games with the smaller guys.

  It was the second time this week when Alex was disappointed that Rick wasn’t there to play video games with him: first the date with Rosa and now the family dinner. Maybe he could invite Rick and Rosa to do something with him and Sofia that weekend.

  “How was swimming practice?” Alex’s father asked him at the dinner table. Alex gave a short summary of the practice to his father, who looked at him proudly.

  “That’s my son,” he said, and he started to talk about his own achievements as a high school boxer twenty-five years ago. Alex and his mother looked at each other. This was a story they had heard many times before.

  Once dinner was over, Alex thought about visiting Sofia but offered instead to help his mother clean the table and wash the dishes.

  “Have you thought about what I said to you about Sam? I don’t like you spending time with him,” Alex’s mother said after his father had left the kitchen. Alex sighed. He had known that his mother wouldn’t drop the topic easily.

  “Yes, yes,” Alex said, sounding irritated. He didn’t like his mother intervening in his life.

  His mother heard his tone and said calmly, “Alex, I am just worried about you. Even though it sounds cliché, you have your whole life in front of you. I don’t want you to spoil it.” Alex rolled his eyes but couldn’t fully disagree.

  Sam had always been like his missing brother. When his super-health-obsessed mother had equipped him with vegetables and muesli bars for their training camp, Sam had immediately volunteered to share his chips and candy, which they had had to eat on the sly. Like Alex’s mother, Coach Hanson couldn’t understand the importance of sugar, fat, and salt in the boys’ diets.

  Alex started to do his homework, but his thoughts shifted to Sam. He couldn’t understand why Sam needed fifteen-hundred dollars. Even though Alex’s parents were pretty wealthy, Sam knew that Alex himself didn’t have that much money. The more he thought about the episode in the swimming hall locker room, the more convinced he became that Sam was in some sort of trouble.

  He wanted to help his friend, but he knew that he couldn’t ask his mother to give him the money. She would certainly want to know why he needed it, and he couldn’t tell her that it was for Sam. It was frustrating. Sam had also made it very clear that he didn’t want Alex to know the reason for the money. Alex couldn’t find a way to help his friend, so he decided to do nothing, at least for the time being.