Rusty Knob

by Erica Chilson

But someday… I will be old enough. Someday, I’ll give more than I received. Someday, I’ll grow up to be somebody’s Royce Kennedy.

  With great patience, because today isn’t someday, I open my laptop. Royce bought it, and he’s never going to make me pay for it. He did so to get that warm feeling– his only defense against the bitter cold of loneliness. I now understand this, and I don’t want to take that sensation away from him by putting up a fuss. I appreciate the gift, and I’ll never take advantage, which is exactly why Royce chose me as someone he’d be proud to call family.

  With the back of my wrist, I scrub at my eyes, and then I decide to be a kid for the rest of the night. I have food in my belly, a pillow under my head, and everyone I love is snug in their beds. I allow myself to not feel guilt over taking care of me for a change.

  I log into Facebook, quickly scrolling through my feed. I don’t have many friends on this account since I don’t want anyone to know me. But all fifteen members of Kentwood Area School District: LGBTQ Community Group befriended me. Bren and Francis are the only ones from Rusty Knob who use their actual names. The rest are smart enough to use aliases.

  Most of the posts on my feed are from chatter in the group, with Bren and Francis commenting, liking, and sharing everything from everywhere like it’s their job.

  Francis Parker: Is corn really blue? Where do blue corn tortilla chips come from? Is there a slutty ear of corn out there somewhere? Does it tease the male ears of corn but doesn’t put out so they turn blue? I shall call this blue corn slut… Jessica.

  Bren Kennedy shared a video: Children of the Corn Trailer.

  Bren Kennedy shared a link: Blue Corn– Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

  Bren Kennedy shared a link: Jessica: Urban Dictionary.

  I keep scrolling and scrolling through mountains and mountains of inane bullshit from those two idiots before I can find anything from the other thirteen members.

  Virginia Duncan: I quit my job today. It just wasn’t as fun without my ex-coworker. My boss was a total dickwad anyway. I think he robs from the poor and gives to the drunkards. So, who wants to spot me a twenty?

  Bren Kennedy commented on Virginia Duncan’s post: Free weights or crunches? I’m an excellent spotter. Go steal a case of beer from the Circle K, and we can split it while we workout. Your ex-boss won’t mind. He’ll just go hire one of your relatives to pay for it. JK. No, I’m not. Sorry. Not sorry.

  Francis Parker posted an image on Virginia Duncan’s Timeline: Hans and Franz with a photoshopped Bren in the foreground flashing a twenty dollar bill.

  Kentwood Cutie: I sucked another dick today. Nope, still a lesbian. Just thought I’d make sure.

  Bren Kennedy commented on Kentwood Cutie’s post: Did they pass or fail step #2 in the fag test, sugar? I’ma start a new test for you, where I make cuties suck my schlong, and those who fail I’ll send your way. We’ll call it the dyke test.

  Kentwood Cutie commented on her own post: I’ll ignore the slur since I’m sure you meant it affectionately. It’s about fucking time you paid it forward, ya selfish prick.

  Kent Wood: Seriously, why do we bother with these stupid names? It’s three small schools? I see you bastards all the time. It’s an easy process of elimination when Bren & Franny only interact with Duncan, Cutie, and Rusty– all from Rusty Knob. It doesn’t take a genius when Bren is the Ram’s Power Forward, Franny is their score keeper, & ‘Cutie’ is their cheerleader cocksucktress. Which begs the question, is the Q in our group their Point Guard who’s never looked twice at anyone? Is Virginia really a dude? I mean, Duncan is on the Center’s jersey. What the fuck is in the water over in Rusty Knob’s locker room? Hormones? Then you have dipshit Kathy Emerson from my school sticking like glue to me and Wood Kent. That leaves seven of you lying bastards in Hillock Corners. Why can’t we just be real? It’s a closed group, and we all have something to lose. –Josh Truman, Hornet Point Guard. Furrow Creek High of Furrow Creek. GAY!

  Kentwood Area School District: LGBTQ community Group: How are the kids in my neck of the woods this evening? Hit the group P.M. for a chat since Josh decided to out himself and a bunch of others on FB. This is NOT a suggestion–Mentor KM.

  Jesus fuck. Josh’s status update blasted out to his entire friends’ list. Kent Wood or not, it was set to public. Numb, not sure how I’m feeling, I click the group message.

  Mentor KM: Josh, if you were in arm’s reach, I’d wrap my hands around your skinny neck and twist until your pea-brained head popped off.

  Bren Kennedy: Shit! Mentor is piiiiisssssssseeeeeedddddd.

  Mentor KM: Yes, I’m pissed, Bren. This is life or death. Coming out is a personal choice that should never be taken lightly, especially in our area.

  Kathy Emerson: Assfuck! I’ve got three years left in the pustule on the horse’s ass called Furrow Creek, West Virginia. I bet you feel real liberated tonight when you only have to suffer this shit for a few more weeks before you graduate and move to Rhode Island. The rest of us are left behind to clean up your fucking mess.

  Virginia Duncan: I use this name, not because my family could give two shits about whether or not I want to get head from a girl or a guy, but because we live in the most intolerant state in the country. Remember that gay guy in Hillock Corners who was dragged behind a car? He was in his thirties. We have no way to protect ourselves! My parents know I’m gay, and they want me to stay alive.

  Bren Kennedy: Reason I’m so ‘out’ there with the fag test and fucking girls left and right is because half the people will actually believe I’m bi, and the other half will doubt it. It was the best defense. I don’t care if word spreads about me because I’ve already confused the fuck out of them. But my friends… if anything happens to them, I’m chartering a bus to Rhode Island, motherfucker. Don’t doubt me. I’ve got 74,000,000 from the Ford Motor Company, a sawed-off, hillbilly blood, and I won’t go to jail. Fuck you very much, Josh!

  Francis Parker: I’m not as gay as I look and act because Bren and I devised a plan to keep us both safe. He confuses them, and I become so queer they avoid me like the plague. I’d love to live in a world where that wasn’t the case, but we aren’t there yet. In less isolated areas, sure. But we don’t live there, do we? I’d like to live long enough to actually go to Berkeley. I’m not a flamboyant silly boy. I am a human being, and I’d appreciate some goddamned respect!

  Kentwood Cutie: Is the irony lost on anyone else? We came to this group because we felt so alone in our schools surrounded by hate-filled slurs and ignorance. We developed a sense of community that I looked forward to every single night. It got me through the rough times when all I see ahead of me is two more years of high school, and then a life in Rusty Knob. I am the only lesbian in Rusty Knob, at least the only one we’ve been able to find. Maybe I ought to visit Furrow Creek more often. The irony is that one of our own betrayed us in the name of feeling free, but all that accomplished was to take our freedom of privacy away.

  Mentor KM: I vetted each and every single one of you before I allowed you in this group. Phony names or not, I know who you are. I grew up in one of your towns, went to the same school, dealt with the same pressures, and it wasn’t that long ago. At one point, I contemplated suicide. I didn’t see my life changing. When I got accepted to college, moved away from town, I found a WHOLE WIDE WORLD OF DIFFERENT. Every shape and shade of different, and I finally fit in. I came back home to give you kids, and the kids that follow you, HOPE! Don’t shit on my dreams by throwing spiteful temper tantrums.

  Bren Kennedy: I knew I liked you, Mentor KM. Well, you know I love you like a brother, but that’s beside the point. I think you’re a great guy, too.

  Mentor KM: Thank you, Bren. I appreciate that.

  Bren Kennedy: You’re not going to say it back? … …. …

  Mentor KM: Clearly I put up with you, so there is that. I love you, too. Now knock it the fuck off and shut up.

  Virginia Duncan: Kennedy? You’re holding out on us! You KNOW Mentor KM!
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  Mentor KM: No comment on that… So, let’s talk about some positives. 1: the post was removed. 2: It was up for 12 minutes. 3: It was a dummy account, so not that many saw it. 4: the ones who would retaliate most likely weren’t on FB at the time, or they don’t have access to internet outside of school hours. 5: Josh is in FB timeout for being a prick. 6: Anything good happen today? Seriously, hit me with something inspiring.

  Wood Kent: I’m sorry my brother is an asshole. I’m Libby Truman, btw. I’m another Q. Jessica– I mean Kentwood Cutie –Hillock Corners is a bunch of cowards ghosting in here but never putting in their two cents. But 3 of the 7 are lesbians… so it’s your lucky day. YAY!

  Francis Parker: Now that is awe inspiring, & my odds of getting laid just diminished.

  Bren Kennedy: Rusty West got aroused today… so he might not be questioning anymore. Don’t know by who, but he was rocking the blush.

  Rusty West: WAS NOT!

  Bren Kennedy: Fucking creeper. I thought you were sleeping. Dad said you were exhausted. & you SO did. You were still sporting wood with that flush in Field Bio.

  Rusty West: Shit, was I?

  Francis Parker: Uh, yeah! It looked good on you, too. So, who’s the lucky fuck?

  Kathy Emerson: Maybe Rusty doesn’t belong here anymore.

  Kentwood Cutie: Only if it was a girl. Who are we to judge? Even if Rusty is straight, he earned his right to stay in the group.

  Virginia Duncan: I know who. He’s been popping chub around this person since September. He doesn’t even realize it.

  Rusty West: Have NOT! NOT! NOT!

  Virginia Duncan: Shout caps? Really? Dude, I’m your best friend. When this person came into the Circle K, you popped chub, without fail. Completely oblivious. You’ve been blessed, and I felt sick for enjoying the view.

  Bren Kennedy: Who?

  Francis Parker: For the love of all that is… evil. Answer the question!

  Mentor KM: Who?

  Wood Kent: Shit, even Mentor wants to know. Shit just got real!

  Mentor KM: WHO?!?

  Rusty West: How do you know if you want someone? If what Duncan says is true, I don’t feel it. It’s not the same urgency as getting antsy so you jerk off in the shower. I don’t get it.

  Virginia Duncan: He really has no clue. It’s like it doesn’t register or something.

  Bren Kennedy: I’ve been keeping an eye on this, and I think it’s because he has to feel more for the person. He’s too nice. He’d probably feel guilty for wanting someone. This person he doesn’t realize he’s getting off on, probably should give ‘Rusty’ permission to want him/her. WHO THE FUCK IS IT, DUNCAN???

  Virginia Duncan: What are you gonna give me for the answer?

  Bren Kennedy: Whatever you want, sugar.

  Mentor KM: The mind is very complex. I took a lot of courses on human sexuality. I think Bren is onto something here. There is chemistry. There is friendship. Lastly, there is love. Sometimes chemistry blooms to friendship, which translates to love. Sometimes friendship can turn to chemistry, and translate to love. Often times, chemistry fades and friends gravitate apart. I’ve felt chemistry. I have friends. But I will only have sex with someone I love. There are people who need trust and intimacy to let go enough to feel pleasure. I’m one of them. Maybe Rusty is like me, too. Maybe he’s so skittish, he can’t feel chemistry. I know he has many friends.

  Francis Parker: deep… I have friends. I’ve never felt anything else. Maybe that’s what has you confused– fuck it– Wynn, I’ve never wanted anyone at Rusty Knob. I’ve never looked at them and just wanted them. I like looking at you and teasing you because you’re so pretty and big, and you don’t get pissed at me. I know when I get to Berkeley my world will open up, so I’ve never felt sad about it. I get that you’re different because you don’t recognize when someone arouses you, so you can’t put a label on it. Wynn, you aren’t a label.

  Mentor KM: Labels make us feel safe. Labels group us together so we don’t feel lonely. But you’re right. Labels create a divide, like it’s them vs us. It’s why the minority groups feel so isolated, because they don’t hold the seat of power. We need to remove labels unless it’s used as a descriptor, and with that goes the fear and power.

  Virginia Duncan: Forget labels. Don’t stress over whether or not someone makes you hard. This person (and we both know who I’m talking about) do you want to hang out with them? I don’t mean how you want to sit around and do nothing with me or Bren. Do you want to keep talking to them? Do you think about them all the time? Do you blush like a fucking lunatic just because you heard their voice? Because, Wynn, if you do, that’s your answer.

  Bren Kennedy: Wynn, you need to stop stressing. You made me cry, bro. Like seriously fucking cry– blowing snot and everything. What you did Friday night, it made me hate you a little bit. I idolize you, and you go and do something so fucking stupid… My mom died. We didn’t want her to die. But her death saved countless lives. Yours would have been for nothing. It made me sick. You made Dad sob. You made him break a door when he punched it. You need to get your shit straight, bro. I’m your friend, your family, and I love you. Your loss would have killed this town. I would have blown you myself if it meant you’d figure your shit out. Jesse has tried many times.

  Mentor KM: BREN! Stop ignoring me. ANSWER OUR P.M. NOW!

  Rusty West: I feel sick with myself. I didn’t mean it.

  Virginia Duncan: What if you didn’t have Warren? It wouldn’t have mattered that you didn’t mean it. You’d still be dead, and we’d be planning a funeral right now. Your family would have been broken more than it already is. It would have solved nothing.

  Rusty West: I’ve come to terms with why I did it.

  Bren Kennedy: Sorry, bro… don’t hate me.

  Rusty West: What? Why? What the hell? Someone’s knocking on my front door.

  Bren Kennedy: News flash! HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS OF FIRE! Mentor KM lives in Rusty Knob!

  Blow My Head Clean Off

  Running through my living room, I weave around the furniture. My front door is reverberating with forceful pounds, causing me to hurry and nearly upend over the coffee table. Whoever it is, is hitting the door with the side of their fist, and they’re going to wake Penny and the kids.

  “What the hell?” I quickly unlock the door, and then twist the knob, realizing too late I probably should have checked to see who was pounding. “What’s so urgent? It’s after midnight.”

  “What did you try to do?” Low and cold, I recognize the voice before I take note of the fist gripping my throat. Kaden does to me what Mentor KM promised Josh– wrapping his meaty fist around my throat and squeezing. “You are so fucking stupid. Goddamn you!”

  “Shit!” A grunt is forced from my chest when I’m slammed against the outside wall of my house. The back of my head hits siding, and then my feet are being dragged off the ground until Kaden and I are eye to eye. I freeze, scared yet exhilarated, while Kaden glares at me with his nostrils flaring.

  I jerk around, arms pushing off his shoulder, while trying to place my feet on the ground. Kaden releases his grip on my throat, only to capture both of my hands. Fingers braceleting my wrists, he presses our hands above my head.

  “Why?” flutters across my lips. “Why?”

  “Why did you try to kill yourself? I know you’re Mentor KM, because nothing is that coincidental.”

  My question throws Kade off, so he starts babbling. “I’m a teacher– mentor –and it’s my initials. It’s not that big of a stretch. It’s more obvious than all of your classmates’ aliases. I have to hold myself apart from the students. If some bigoted father found out his kid was in my group, he’d say I turned his kid into a fag, or that I was trolling for my next fuck. That’s how this sick shit always plays out. So I use Mentor KM. But I figure bigots are fucking idiots in the first place.”

  “Why did you try to kill yourself?” I repeat, hating how disappointed in myself Kade makes me feel. Like I haven’t murdered m
yself in my head repeatedly over the past few days for the stupid bullshit I pulled. Like it didn’t cure me from ever doing it again. Like I’d never wish the destructive thoughts that were going through my mind at the time I tried to kill myself on anyone, even my worst enemy.

  “You first,” Kade snarls, all vestiges of the friendly elementary school teacher vanish.

  “You know that movie Sliding Doors? Where if you take one path, this happens? But if you take the other, something else happens?” I’m calm in the face of Kade’s rage, finally able to put words to my emotions. “Well, I was unable to see another path before me. I saw an empty expanse of misery, and I wanted to end it once and for all. Somehow, I ended up ending one path and starting one I didn’t even know existed. For that, I am eternally grateful.”

  Kaden’s facial expression softens. Instead of smashing me to the wall, he leans into me, using his weight to hold me in place. “We have that in common. I don’t need to explain the details to you, but it was the same shit with me. My life was similar. My grandfather was an abusive drunk, but my father was like you. Calm and passive. Good. My life took a horrific turn when my father died and my grandfather took custody of me.”

  I murmur, “I’m sorry.” I want to reach out and comfort Kade, but he’s holding my hands above my head, using his body as a fulcrum point. I’m rendered immobile, but a twisted part of me likes it– is comforted by it.

  “Bren didn’t know the details. He just said you tried to kill yourself. I’m asking for details now. But before you hem and haw, saying you want mine in return, know I tried to kill myself when I was sixteen. I’m no longer a danger to myself. But you pulled this shit four days ago. It might feel like a lifetime to you with all the changes, but it was only a heartbeat for me. Spill.”

  “I…” My eyes slip shut.

  Raw.

  Exposed.

  Ashamed.

  Kade presses deeper into me: Forehead resting on mine. Nose pressing against mine. Mouth a hairsbreadth from connecting with mine. He breathes, “How?” directly into my mouth– hot and moist.