Queeroes

by Steven Bereznai

  He stared at her silent response.

  “Do you?” he pressed.

  “Do you love me?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “I said,” she hissed, “do you love me?”

  “Liza, are you crazy? We’ve been on one date.”

  He turned and started walking back towards Troy and the others.

  A flurry of emotions swept through Liza in that instant. Even Troy would’ve been hard-pressed to keep up. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. And most biting, abandonment. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Fuck that,” she muttered, “I am not going to be treated this way.”

  Slowly she began to sing.

  The last any of Evan Mueller’s teammates saw of him—alive— was as he wandered off the field in a trance, following after Liza like she was the Pied Piper of Nuffim High.

  Chapter 23

  “Why aren’t you on the field?” Coach Lenwick asked Troy as his fellow football players took up their positions.

  “Because I can do more good here,” Troy answered. He’d remained on the sidelines the entire game.

  The guys hunched down, and Troy let his awareness expand, as he’d been doing all evening. He could feel his teammates. He sorted through them one by one, and put each of them in their own little cubicle in his head.

  Adam, who was a miracle during practices, began to feel the dreaded pressure that always tripped him during game time. The ball came his way. Troy filled Adam’s room with confidence. Adam caught the ball and ran fast.

  Fatigue plagued Kevin. Troy helped him reach deeper than the lactic acid building in the tackler’s legs and he rammed the linebacker about to nail Adam.

  And then Troy began to feel the other team as well. He filled their rooms with doubt and weighed them down with exhaustion. A cornerback reached for Adam and tripped. A linebacker was about to blindside him, but a sixth sense (Troy) warned the spunky little player and he saw the danger from the corner of his eye just

  in time to sprint left. The linebacker landed on grass.

  And this was Troy’s pièce de résistance: Adam’s surging jump that knocked over a defenseman and carried them both over the line.

  By the final two minutes of the game, the scoreboard said it all. They were one touchdown away from taking the game.

  Chad came up to Troy.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, meaning I totally know what you’re doing, and you look exhausted, but you’ve only got two more minutes to go.”

  Troy shook his head.

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Troy panted, “I can sense them out there, barely, but that’s it. It’s hazy. I’m tapped out, man.”

  Chad nodded.

  “Well, you did good all the same. We can still win this.”

  “I just…,” Troy began, “I wanted this so bad. If we lose…”

  “Well then,” Chad said, “how about you get that hot ass of yours onto the field, and make sure we don’t.”

  The corner of Troy’s lip took on a devilish crook.

  “What?” Chad demanded.

  “I have a better idea.”

  He pushed a helmet into Chad’s stomach.

  “You’re up.”

  Chad held the helmet away from his body, as if he’d go into anaphylactic shock if he touched it much longer.

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “Listen up, everyone,” Troy said, getting the guys to huddle around him. “We’re down to the wire. You’re all exhausted. We need some fresh blood on the field.”

  “Troy! Troy! Troy!” they began shouting.

  “I was wondering why you were hanging back,” Markham said. “Smart thinking, man.”

  There were nods of agreement all around. Troy held up his hand.

  “Not just me,” he said. “Him.”

  Troy pointed at Chad, who looked for a means of escape as the entire football team attempted to see who Troy meant.

  The cheers died down as they noticed the football helmet in Chad’s hand. Normally Troy would have reached out and filled them with feelings of trust, but it was like turning on a tap and getting only a drip. Riley and Markham stepped forward, and Troy knew it was game over. They’d never let Chad play.

  “Troy’s gotten us this far,” Markham said. “I say we follow his lead.”

  “You heard the man,” Riley said to Chad. “Suit up.”

  In moments, something more impossible than superpowered teens went down.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Chad said, his head covered by a helmet, pads springing up from his shoulders, football pants digging into his crotch.

  “Just think of it as a game of fetch,” Troy said.

  “I’m wearing someone else’s cup.”

  The guys looked at Chad doubtfully. And then Markham began the chanting.

  “Chad! Chad!”

  Riley picked it up.

  “Chad! Chad!”

  Soon they were all bellowing his name.

  What a pack of monsters, he thought. “My animals” is what his dad had often called them.

  Chad looked to his father, the team’s coach, hoping in this quarter at least someone would see sanity and pull the plug on this mad venture. The look on his dad’s face was so different from the one Chad had grown up with, the one that would gaze at his nelly offspring and say, You’ll never be my son. Today it contemplated Chad and said something else: Maybe.

  “Okay, girlz,” the cheerleader cried, “let’s kick some ass!”

  It was a victory unlike Nuffim—or any other high school—had ever seen. After all, Chad moved as no other player could. His touchdown propelled the Nuffim Marmots into the regional championships for the first time in ten years.

  Since the beginning of high school, Chad had tossed cheerleaders into the air, his feet forever remaining earthbound except for the occasional backflip, and so he had no idea what it would feel like to have his legs scooped out from under him and be bounced safely upwards by so many strong hands—until he sat on the football team’s shoulders, paraded before the screaming crowd.

  “Chad, Chad, he’s our man!” the cheerleaders—his cheerleaders— had led the crowd in crying. Mandy blew him a kiss.

  He caught it, smacked his chest with it, and then pumped the air with his fist.

  The guys spirited him away to the confines of the men’s change room, where for once he was not gripped with dread. Tonight he was not a flaming outcast in the most male of dominions. Tonight, he was a star. They clasped his thighs, chanting in unison, “Chad! Chad! Chad!” in their deep, tribal way.

  Riley and Markham were among the most enthusiastic.

  So this is what it feels like to be one of the boys, he beamed in wonder.

  He had to lie back in their arms to get through the doorway, and inside they set him feet first on a bench, so that he could stand and tower above them all. He didn’t realize it, but they were also presenting him: to his dad.

  They parted, and his pop stepped onto the bench next to his son. There were tears in the coach’s eyes. To Chad’s amazement, there were tears in his own as well. Not only that, but many of the guys were misty-eyed as they watched.

  They love him, Chad realized, and they’re happy he finally gets to have the son he always wanted.

  The coach crushed Chad tight against him. The bear hug happened so quickly Chad struggled to hug back.

  The coach…

  My dad.

  …gripped him by his shoulder pads.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like that. I mean, you held the ball in your mouth and ran on all fours!”

  He’d had to rip off the mouth guard and keep his teeth from puncturing the ball’s delicate flesh to pull that off.

  “And when you vaulted over those guys, and pushed off their backs…I never thought I’d say it, but maybe the football team could learn a thing or two from the cheerleaders.”

  Th
ere was nervous laughter at that and as wonderful as Chad felt, his insides tightened.

  I’m not one of them, he knew. I’m just visiting.

  He heard a pop and there was a spray of alcohol-free champagne. Plastic cups were filled with bubbly and passed around.

  “To my son, Chad,” the coach said, “for scoring the final touchdown…”

  More cheers.

  “…and to Troy. His amazing leadership brought this home!”

  Now Troy was lifted into the air, fake champagne spraying him from all around. From within the bubbly mist, his eyes met Chad’s. They set Troy down next to their new star player.

  “Speech, speech!” they demanded.

  Troy gestured with one hand for them to settle down. Chad didn’t notice, because from behind, Troy’s free hand was gently caressing the small of the cheerleader’s back. The blond’s spine stiffened, but no one caught on.

  “I did a really stupid thing a while back,” Troy said as Chad began to purr. “I quit the football team.”

  There were mock boos.

  “I’ll take that,” he said, “especially because of why I left. I let my fears get in the way. I chose to play it safe. I went with a sport that was one man against another man. I didn’t have to worry about letting anyone down. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else letting me down. Today I got to be part of a team again. The fastest, strongest team this school has ever seen!”

  The cries and locker-banging set Chad’s ears to ringing, yet still he heard Troy loud and clear when he leaned back and whispered, “Follow me in five.”

  Amidst the hooting and hollering and back-clapping, Troy disappeared in the direction of the showers. Chad managed to wait sixty seconds before going after him. When he got there, all the nozzles were on full blast, filling the boys’ shower room with hot steam and the sound of spattering water.

  A form stepped forward, and there was Troy, dripping wet in his jockstrap. His chest was pumped and the veins stood out on his biceps, like he’d snuck in a few quick push-ups while he waited.

  “Some game, huh?” he said, putting his hands behind his head. The pose made his skin pull tight over lean muscle.

  “Yeah,” the blond teen said, followed by an awkward cough. He was not quite sure where to look. “Shouldn’t we…”

  He gestured back to the guys, whose boisterous banter echoed their way.

  “Definitely,” Troy agreed, stepping forward. He gazed up and down at Chad, still in his football uniform. “I wish I could take a

  picture of you in all this gear.”

  “My dad got a couple of snaps,” he laughed. “There’s no way he’s ever going to forget this day.”

  “For sure,” Troy agreed, starting to lift Chad’s No. 89 shirt over his head. “Let me help you with the straps.” Troy’s fingers lightly touched Chad’s tan skin before undoing the binding holding his shoulder pads in place.

  Chad’s breathing quickened.

  “Please don’t tease me,” he murmured, edging closer to Troy.

  “No teasing,” Troy said. “It’s just, it would look weird for you to come into the shower room and leave dry.”

  “No fear of that,” Chad whispered.

  His shoulder pads dropped to the ground. He pushed down the football pants. His jock and cup clattered onto the floor as well.

  “You wore underwear under your cup?” Troy smirked, gazing down at the tight red ginch Chad sported.

  “Like I was going to put Riley’s spare cup against my skin. No thank you.”

  Troy smiled, playing with the underwear’s elastic band.

  “They’re hot,” Troy said.

  “I got them online,” Chad stammered.

  Troy took Chad’s hand and pulled him into the mist. Troy’s body pulsed with adrenalin. He was primed for taking risks. It took all Chad had not to hug him.

  “Aren’t you afraid?” Chad asked, jerking his chin towards the sound of blasting rock music. Someone had hooked an iPod up to speakers.

  “Terrified,” Troy admitted, a lump forming in his throat, and Chad regretted bringing it up.

  “You did real good out there,” Troy said, gazing at Chad’s body.

  He’s going to chicken out, just like Jake, Chad realized, and the fear in his belly of being led on and then tossed aside was too much. He wrapped his arms around Troy’s neck, and their lips pressed together. Troy held him tight, the jock’s entire body trembling.

  They pulled away by unspoken consent. They stood there, touching each other lightly, kissing, touching more, testing to make sure the other wasn’t going to bolt. And just as they began to relax, to trust, to lower their guards, they both halted. Something was up. It took them several moments to realize what it was.

  “The music’s stopped,” Troy said. They both stared in the direction of the locker room. The beats did not resume.

  Troy stepped away, and the movement scooped out a piece of Chad’s heart.

  “Come on, Coach, we need our tunes,” Markham was saying.

  Troy and Chad appeared in the doorway, towels around their waists.

  “Settle down,” the coach yelled. It was then everyone noticed Principal McGee standing behind him.

  “I have some very upsetting news,” the coach began. “It’s about Jesse.”

  “Jesse?” Troy whispered, his heart pounding harder.

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” the coach continued, “but I want us to be together for this, to be there for each other, as a team.” The coach took a deep breath, and Troy felt the tears build in his eyes.

  “Please, no,” he begged.

  “Jesse’s parents were out for the evening. When they came home they found him, in his room.”

  “This isn’t happening,” Troy insisted.

  “He hanged himself.”

  There was something more after that, something about grief counselors, social workers trying to figure out why it happened, and there would be a memorial.

  Troy heard none of it. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  It was Chad.

  The hand pulled Troy in for a hug but Troy stepped back.

  “I can’t,” he choked.

  Everyone looked to Troy now, the whole team, to the man who’d led them to victory, and who was Jesse’s best friend.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Adam said to him.

  Troy ignored him, threw a zippy over his shoulders, got into a pair of track pants, yanked on his shoes, left all his gear in a heap, and took off.

  “I should go after him,” Chad said.

  “No, son,” his father said, holding him back. “Sometimes a man just needs to be alone with his grief.”

  Chapter 24

  Liza gagged on the smell filling the Dedarling mansion. The bronze statue of Apollo in the foyer shared her revulsion. Devon’s hands had been hard at work on it, shifting its serene face into a grimace. It looked more like a tormented spirit than the Greek god of art.

  Liza took off her shoes to soften her steps as she walked up the staircase.

  Down the hallway she went. It was dark. Some of the bulbs lining the wall in fanciful sconces still glowed—or tried to. They were wilted and misshapen, many of their filaments sputtering—more of Devon’s handiwork.

  She stopped before Mrs. Dedarling’s studio, now the home of the Creation.

  Devon was slouched in an armchair. A single lamp shone next to him.

  The rank air was strongest here. Flies buzzed about excitedly.

  “It died,” Devon said, not looking up.

  Raw-looking wounds clustered with flies wracked the Creation—what was left of it. Stubble raked its cheeks, and the cat litter around it was full of lumps.

  “I’m sorry,” Liza said.

  “I couldn’t do this on my own,” he said. “We were supposed to

  be in this together.”“We are in this together,” Liza insisted. “So you’re back?” he snorted. “Well, maybe I don’t want you anymore.” “Please,” she begged, running t
o his side, getting to her knees and clutching his pant legs. “I made a mistake. I thought…” “That they’d be there for you? They let you down, didn’t they?”“Yes.” It came out barely a whisper. “Just like you let me down.” “I can make things right,” she said enthusiastically, her head bobbing and her face smiling. “Remember how good things were?

  How happy we were before…”“Before you dumped me?” Devon said with a surly tone. “Yes,” she agreed, her grip on his pant leg loosening, and her smile withering. She seemed to shrink, and looked to the exit. The thought of her leaving made Devon rustle uncomfortably. “How can I trust you now?” he asked defensively.“I brought you something.” She took him by the hand—he noted the way she clasped it. He could destroy her right here, right now, twist her beyond recognition. She met his gaze. She knew it too. She gripped tighter, and pulled him up from his chair. He followed her into the hall, down the stairs, and into the front foyer.

  Standing there, in a trance, was Evan, still in his football uniform. The statue of Apollo’s face seemed to howl in futile warning.“For you,” Liza said as Devon circled the jock like a shark. Devon stopped, stroking the stud’s strong jaw. “No,” he said, “not for me.” “Please,” Liza begged, not even trying to hide her desperation now. “I don’t belong in that world. I belong here, with you.” Devon held up a finger for silence.

  “I said, not for me,” he repeated, “but for us.”

  He held his hand out to her and pulled her close. They kissed long and hard. She waited for him to feel her body the way Evan did, but Devon did not.

  It’s okay, she assured herself, I can live without that.

  He kept an arm around her as he turned his attention back to the football player, and slowly sank his fingers into his chest.

  Chapter 25

  Dear Diary,

  I can’t take it. Everything is so messed up. It’s like the world is melting. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO OR HOW TO MAKE SENSE OF IT!

  “Suicide Tragedy Strikes Nuffim High Football Team” was the paper’s front-page headline the next morning. Troy turned it face down as he drank his protein shake in the Allstars’ cheery yellow kitchen. His dad watched him with worry.

  Their doorbell rang. It was the coach.