Queeroes

by Steven Bereznai

  Troy sat as straight-backed as ever, but from the corner of his eye, he too seemed to be looking at Chad. And then there was Liza.

  Out of habit, Markham rolled up a piece of paper, putting it in his mouth, gobbing it with spit, and then shoving it into the hollow outer shell of his disposable pen. He raised it to his mouth. There was barely need to aim with Liza’s mass of tangled black hair. Mandy put a restraining hand over his.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said.

  “Whatever,” the pretty-boy jock scoffed, firing the spitball.

  It hit Liza’s cheek. Mandy waited for the tall girl’s scream to level the

  classroom, but all she did was briskly write something in her notebook.

  Hit List. Homeroom.

  “I can’t take this anymore,” Mandy muttered to herself, and she grabbed Chad’s hand. He blinked, finally noticing her.

  “We need to talk,” she whispered to him.

  Five minutes later they met in the girls’ washroom.

  “Mandy,” Chad said, casting nervous glances in the mirror, making sure his eyes and ears looked normal, “I really can’t talk about your crush du jour, ’cause things are really messed up right now.”

  “You think?” she demanded.

  She opened her purse and pulled out her lipstick. As soon as she brought the red tip close to her mouth, her lips began to grow fuzzy. She pulled the lipstick away, and her face returned to normal. Chad blinked repeatedly.

  “Did you just…?”

  “It gets better,” she said.

  She repeated the process, except with mascara. Her eyes disappeared, and he stared into an empty cavity in her skull. She pulled the applicator away, and her missing eye fizzled back into view. She handed him the mascara bottle.

  “Throw it at me.”

  He hesitated.

  “Come on, faggot, throw it at me.”

  He tossed it and the bottle bounced off a crackling shield in front of her. The field faded away and she began to cry.

  “Chad, I don’t know what to do.”

  He walked over and picked up the fallen bottle. He wiped the tears from her eyes and hugged her tight.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How can you say that?” she said, “I’m a freak.”

  “Yes, you are. And so am I.”

  He unscrewed the cap on her mascara and pulled out the curled tip.

  Gently, he began applying it to her lashes. They remained visible when he did it.

  “Chad, no offense, but your whole gay thing, it’s not the same,” she argued. “We don’t exactly have an invisible freak girls’ pride parade, okay?”

  “Mandy, for the first time since I can remember, I’m not even thinking about being gay,” he responded.

  He told her everything that had happened the night before. About his eyes, the claws, the pills. Somehow he failed to mention how her ex-boyfriend crawled into bed and made out with him.

  It was nothing, he assured himself.

  “It’s so Valley of the Dolls,” she said, referring to his overdose, “If you’re lying…”

  “I’m not.”

  “Show me,” she said, arms folded over her small breasts.

  “I…” he hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “You’re not sure if you can turn it off,” Mandy concluded.

  He nodded.

  “I get it,” Mandy sighed, staring in the mirror. “We’re freaks. Now what?”

  Before Chad could answer, the door flew open. Mrs. Cordial stood there.

  “I just got a call from the principal’s office,” she glared. “Chad, the school counselor would like to see you.”

  “Crap,” Chad whispered softly, looking to Mandy for rescue.

  “I think you’re on your own for this one,” she said.

  “Now,” the teacher emphasized. “And you might want to grab your bag from class. I think this will take a while.”

  Chapter 8

  Chad sat with his knapsack on his lap in the school counselor’s office. The counselor slammed a pair of jeans down onto his desk. The denim was shredded in places. The gouges were long and wide.

  “The police found these next to the highway. Your wallet and cellphone were nearby.”

  Chad reached for his pants but the counselor, a mountain of a man with a receding hairline, pulled them back.

  “I can explain,” the teen said.

  The man’s stern face stared at him.

  “Dad…,” Chad began.

  “I am not your father in this office.”

  “Okay, coach,” Chad mocked.

  “Right now I’m not the football coach either. I’m the school counselor. Got it?”

  “Aren’t counselors supposed to be impartial?” Chad countered.

  “Don’t you impartial me, mister. When I got home the front door was smashed in, you were nowhere to be found, there were pills everywhere, the police discovered your clothes near a…”

  “Cruising park?” Chad offered.

  “I was worried sick!” his dad yelled.

  Despite himself, Chad was touched.

  “I’ve watched you run loose ever since your mother died. I figured it was just a phase. That you’d grow out of…” he twirled his wrist in a mincing manner.

  “Out of what?” Chad asked. “Being a queen?”

  His dad ignored the question.

  “I thought I could keep my mouth shut until you graduated high school, but this is too much.” He picked up the pants and waved them in Chad’s face. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this would be for me if anyone found out?”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be discussing my feelings?”

  “You shut your mouth before I smack it!”

  Chad silently looked about the cramped office, at the polished trophies atop the filing cabinet, at his father’s teaching certificate in a dusty frame, anywhere but at his father’s cleft jaw and thick neck.

  “This is going to stop, right here, right now,” he declared. “You’re grounded.”

  “You can’t ground me,” Chad replied. “You’re not my dad in this room, you’re my school counselor.”

  His father kicked a beaten-up steel garbage can against the wall. Cans of Energy Xtreme went flying out of it.

  “Do you even know what your life would be like here without me?” he demanded. “Huh? Do you?”

  “Because it’s so great right now?” Chad replied.

  His dad snorted.

  “I’d like to see how cocky you’d be if your dad wasn’t the coach of the football team. You’d have the daylights kicked out of you every other day.”

  “Gee, thanks, Counselor Lenwick.”

  His father skirted around the desk and grabbed Chad by the front of his shirt, yanking him out of his chair.

  “My guys look up to me, so they keep their hands off of you.”

  “Not all of them.”

  His dad flinched.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means your all-star from last year didn’t just play for your team, and you weren’t his only coach.”

  His dad pushed him back into his chair. Chad grabbed his pants, stuffed them into his bag, and sprang towards the door.

  “You sit your ass down!” his dad ordered.

  Chad gave him the finger and slammed the door behind him.

  In the school hallway, Chad walked up to the nearest locker and punched it as hard as he could. He was surprised by the impressive dent he’d made. He unclenched his fist and looked at the sharp talons growing from his fingertips.

  Calm down, he told himself, find your center.

  His breathing slowed and his claws retracted.

  “Chad!”

  His nostrils flared and he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

  “Hey, Gibbie,” he replied.

  “I’m glad I caught you. Open your backpack.”

  “Open
my…?”

  Already Gibbie was pulling it from over Chad’s shoulder.

  “Listen,” Chad said, “I really appreciate you and your brother helping me out last night, and your parents giving me a ride in to school with you, but…”

  Gibbie unzipped the backpack, pushed aside the shredded jeans without even blinking, and declared triumphantly, “I knew it!”

  Gibbie pulled out an empty bottle of Etienne water.

  “This has to be it.”

  “Has to be what?” Chad asked.

  “I’ll explain everything at lunch. Meet me and Troy in the audiovisual room.”

  “Uh…I’m not really the audiovisual club type, if you know what I mean.”

  Chad made the shape of an L with his right thumb and pointing finger and placed it over his forehead.

  Gibbie knew exactly what he meant, but he had no time for it.

  “You’re changed, Chad. The eyes, the ears, the claws.”

  “Shhht,” Chad hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard.

  “I’m changed too,” Gibbie said excitedly, “and so is Troy.”

  “You guys…are like me?”

  “Yes! Well, no. Not exactly like you. But we’re different now. I’m super strong. Some of the time. I carried you all the way back to our place!”

  “You carried me?” Chad scoffed.

  Gibbie grabbed Chad by his muscular arms and lifted him to prove his point. Well, Gibbie tried to lift him. His on-again, off-again super strength was most definitely off.

  “Listen, you seem like a nice kid,” Chad said. “But I’m a little busy hating my father right now, drowning in a crisis, and I have to get to my next class.”

  Gibbie trailed after him.

  “Don’t you remember anything from last night?

  Chad recalled plenty—the forest, the pills, Gibbie’s dreamy older brother holding him tight.

  “Wait…,” Gibbie begged.

  He jumped ahead of Chad and held the hall door shut. Chad grabbed the handle and tried to force it open. It remained firm under Gibbie’s palm. Gibbie didn’t notice. His shoulders sagged.

  “Fine,” he sighed. He gripped the handle to open the door for Chad and with a frustrated yank he ripped the door right off its hinges. It hung in the air, easily held up by Gibbie’s twiggy little arm. Chad stared.

  The front door was smashed in, Chad’s father had said.

  Chad gave Gibbie a wide berth while walking through the portal.

  “I’ll see you in the audiovisual room at lunch.”

  Chapter 9

  Gibbie sat alone amidst transparency projectors, slide machines, VCRs, and DVD players. He stared at the clock above the door. His eyes then wandered down to the cue cards on the desk in front of him.

  “Dear friends,” he began to read, “since before the dawn of Marvel Comics, man has dreamed of…”

  The doorknob turned and Gibbie stood excitedly when he saw Chad. Then Mandy came in after him.

  “What’s she doing here?” Gibbie demanded.

  “She’s changed too,” Chad replied.

  “Yeah,” she echoed, her voice all Valley-girl ferocious, fist planted on her cocked hip. “I’m totally changed too.”

  “You seem the same to me,” Gibbie said sourly.

  “Where’s Troy?” Chad asked, his voice cracking.

  “Here,” the wrestler said, careful not to brush against Chad while entering the room. They eyed each other like a pair of stray dogs. “Let’s get on with this. I have to get to the weight room.”

  Gibbie stared at them all in disbelief.

  “Guys, we can do stuff, and you’re all acting like pumping iron and being catty are still the most important things in the world.”

  That was Gibbie’s interpretation, and based on surfaces, he was right.

  But Troy knew better. He could feel the roiling panic beneath Chad and Mandy’s thin veneer of bitchiness. They were both ready to crack, and were distracting themselves the only way they knew how—by making light of the situation. As for Troy, he just dissociated.

  “Well not the most important,” Mandy said defensively, her voice on edge. She was gazing into her compact and trying to reapply her lipstick. “This is hopeless,” she muttered, shoving the mirror back in her purse.

  “I didn’t see you skipping your morning episode of Star Trek today,” Troy said to his little brother.

  “That was research!” Gibbie shrilled.

  “Hey,” Chad piped up, “our physics teacher said that faster-than-light technology could never actually happen.”

  Gibbie sputtered, “That is highly contentious!”

  “All right, boys,” Mandy said, clapping her hands. “We’re sorry, Gibbie. Social retards are people too. Please continue.”

  “What exactly is your ability, Mandy?” Troy asked. “Super bitch?”

  Chad chortled and quickly covered his mouth under Mandy’s glare.

  “I can turn invisible,” she said to her ex, “And I can make a force field.”

  “Really?” Gibbie asked, but to Mandy’s surprise, he wasn’t looking at her. His thick glasses were focused on Troy. After a few seconds the jock nodded.

  “She’s telling the truth.”

  “Am I to assume you’re Lie Detector Man?” Mandy sneered. “Great power, very scary.”

  “Actually, I’m an empath,” Troy replied. “So suck it.”

  “Never heard of it,” she shrugged.

  “Just give me a second!” Gibbie interrupted, waving for them all to pipe down. With his other hand he clicked on his laptop, which was hooked up to a projector. So began Gibbie’s PowerPoint presentation.

  “Dear friends,” he began to read. “Since before the dawn of Marvel Comics, man has dreamed of having superpowers.”

  A cover image of The Avengers, issue No.1, looked back at them, with classic comic book characters like The Hulk and Ant-Man.

  “Be it from mutation, genetic engineering, or freak accident,” Gibbie continued, “Many are the ways superpowers can be gained.”

  Chad kept staring at the cleft of Troy’s chest, revealed in his workout tank top. Troy felt the gaze, bringing a flush to his own cheeks. He pulled his jacket shut. Chad’s head snapped back to the presentation, allowing Troy to gaze at the smooth skin of Chad’s neck without the blond noticing. The cheerleader hid behind a campy persona; Troy found strength in his own robotic control. Both facades now seemed brittle around the other.

  This is trouble, Troy thought, remembering how good it felt to hold his classmate. Troy knew he wanted to do it again, a desire he must not give in to. If he did, who knew what emotions might come pouring out. He needed containment to neutralize this threat. He then noticed Mandy, and he hated the idea he got, but he hated his desire for Chad even more. Troy looked down at his notepad, and wrote, “Get back together with Mandy.”

  Gibbie clicked his computer and an image of a bottle of Etienne water materialized on the screen. Next to it was an article with the headline: “Etienne Bottled Water Recalled.”

  “This article appeared yesterday,” Gibbie said, “after some sort of non-toxic contamination got into the Etienne bottled water plant in Calebraton. But not every bottle was successfully recalled. Troy and Chad both drank Etienne water yesterday. I had it force-fed to me.”

  He looked to Mandy. “Crap,” was all she said.

  “So what was the contamination?” Troy asked.

  “Officially,” Gibbie said, changing the image to a blown-up portion of the article, “they’re saying fluoride.”

  “Doesn’t fluoride just make your teeth stronger?” Troy pressed.

  “It does,” Gibbie agreed, “and many municipalities add it to their water supply for that reason. But some research indicates it can have unexpected effects on the brains of kids. And, I don’t believe this was just any kind of fluoride.”

  The image changed, and a drawing of a chemical structure was before them.

  “I found this in The Journ
al of Radiological Research. Its fluoride, but it’s attached to a mild radioactive isotope, the kind injected into people during certain medical procedures.”

  “So?” Mandy asked.

  “So…” Gibbie pressed the mouse again and a graph appeared. “Etienne’s stocks went up five years ago after it was announced that their research team had a breakthrough in fluorination that would specifically target teeth.”

  “You think some of this experimental fluoride got into their regular supply accidentally?” Chad asked.

  “And I don’t think it targets enamel,” Gibbie replied. “It concentrates in the brain. That’s why it never got past the lab stage.”

  “So because somebody wanted to make stronger molars, now I can turn invisible?” Mandy asked skeptically.

  “Well,” Gibbie responded, “I’m sure there are other factors. I mean, maybe it’s only teens that are affected. Our brains are at a specific developmental stage. Maybe that’s what makes us candidates.”

  “So then there could be a cure,” Chad said.

  “Sign me up,” Mandy said.

  “Amen,” Troy agreed.

  “You guys are kidding, right?” Gibbie said.

  “No,” they said in unison.

  “Look,” Gibbie said, clicking on the computer’s mouse. “This is Deanna Troi, from Star Trek. She’s an empath, like our Troy.”

  “Wait a second,” Mandy said. “All she can do is say, ‘Captain,

  I sense I have big boobs.’ That’s your power?”

  They all looked at her in surprise.

  “It’s not geeky to watch The Next Generation,” she said defensively.

  “He may also be able to control other people’s emotions,” Gibbie said.

  “I can?” Troy asked. “I mean, yeah.”

  “I said maybe,” Gibbie clarified, “but that’s just it—there’s so much we don’t know about this. Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, try out what we can do first before looking for a cure? I mean, think about the possibilities…”

  “Listen in on other people’s gossip,” Mandy mused.