Trouble Comes in Twos (Finding Jet Book 1)

by Alice Mura

  After sketching in pencil, he grabbed a nib-tipped pen from the teacher’s pencil holder and quickly inked it. Jet never went for realism. He preferred the eye-pleasing style of Disney and Pixar with his own, slightly erotic twist on the anatomy and pose. The teacher studied the drawing a moment then looked up at him.

  “This is really good. Like, really, really good. And so fast. I’m guessing you’ve been drawing for over ten years now?” The teacher continued to study the drawing.

  “Five, but I sketch like every single day. It’s like my only hobby…” Jet trailed off. He hadn’t meant to sound so boring.

  “I can tell. You’re only a senior in high school and you already have a strong grasp of your own style. You don’t belong in this class, I can tell you that. Look, I don’t have the authority to put you in Mr. Werther’s fourth-year art class. He only teaches one class each day at each of the schools in the area. You’re probably going to have to completely restructure your schedule to fit in. I’m writing a note you can give to Mr. Nordstrom recommending you for fourth-year art.” The teacher scribbled a note and signed it before handing it off to Jet. The penmanship was nearly illegible.

  “Thanks...” said Jet.

  “Can I keep this?” The teacher held up the drawing away from her face.

  “You want to keep that?”

  “Yeah, it’s great. Gonna hang it up for everyone to see.”

  Jet felt a warm swirl of satisfaction in his chest, knowing someone wanted to display his art. Paula had always been supportive of his artistic ambitions, but it was hard to tell how good he was when his foster mother was the only person who ever saw or praised his work. Having this relative stranger gush over his work made his toes wriggle in delight. Jet studied the floor.

  “Sure. I’m flattered.”

  “Could you sign it for me? This could be worth a lot of money someday.” The teacher smiled knowingly, making Jet flush. “Does she have a name?”

  “Jenny,” said Jet as he signed his name stylistically before drawing the name “Jenny” in bubble letters. Once it was finished, the teacher stood up and pinned it to a strip of corkboard that ran around the entire classroom. None of the students noticed her put it up, but she stood there for over a minute just looking at it. Jet returned to the desk and occupied himself drawing the still life.

  The next period was lunch. Instead of sitting by himself like a loser, Jet took his lunch in the boy’s bathroom. He would still be eating alone, but at least no one could see him. Maybe in a few days, when people got used to seeing his face in class, and a few natural conversations had taken place, he could show himself in the cafeteria. In one of the toilet stalls he pulled his feet up and dug into his lunch bag. His dad had packed him a juice bottle, a Tupperware bowl filled with leftover veggie pasta from the night before, an orange, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers.

  Jet nibbled his crackers as he heard a group of boys crowd into the bathroom. The door slammed shut as they laughed about some inside joke. Jet stopped eating so he wouldn’t be discovered. For some reason, it sounded like the entire group piled into the extra-width accessible stall next to him.

  “Did you bring any?”

  “What are you a narc?”

  “Just pack the bowl, bitch.”

  “Fuck you, fag. I have to make one. We don’t all have rich daddies who are cops.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck your mom.”

  “Would you just pack the fucking bowl before someone catches us?”

  “Don’t be a bitch.”

  “Blow it into the vent. Crush the can and flush it if someone comes in.”

  “I locked the door. No one’s coming in.”

  Jet’s heart shuddered in his chest as sweat dripped down his back. He remained perfectly still as he heard one of the boys slurp a can of pop empty. Several squeaks followed.

  “Make sure to cut a rush hole.”

  “That doesn’t work on a can.”

  “Yes it does, retard.”

  “Fuck you. It doesn’t work. I’ll show you.”

  There were at least three boys in the stall next to him judging by their voices. Jet didn’t want to think of what they’d do to him if they discovered him. Someone flicked a lighter. Something crackled and burned before the bathroom flooded with a rank order. Jet knew that smell anywhere—it was regs, the cheapest weed you could buy. It smelled like urine and skunk. The boys took turns hitting what must have been a pop can cut into a makeshift pipe. In the past, Jet and his friends had used a pop can or a beer can as a last resort. It was something they could smoke weed out of and throw away without any cops or parents finding out. Jet was cool with smoking weed, but these guys didn’t sound like the kind of kids he wanted to hang out with, even if the weed was free.

  “This shit tastes like shit.”

  “I don’t see you throwing down.”

  “Is your guys’ phone vibrating?”

  Jet stifled a yelp as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He whipped it out as fast as he could to find his dad had sent him a text. He read the words Social Services.

  “Are you fucking spying on us?”

  Jet twitched. He put his phone away and found his hands were shaking.

  Scraping noises sounded from the stall next door. “Hey faggot! I’m talking to you.”

  The voice came from above him. Jet’s heart hammered double-time. He felt fit to explode. Sweat broke out on his face. He looked up into an angry face with white teeth bared in pale, freckled skin. Red dreadlocks draped on the stall wall. Jet’s stomach dropped into his shoes. This was the boy Liam had warned him about.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What?” gasped Jet, his throat as dry as a new syllabus.

  “Are you going to fucking narc on us?” Jackson Spears snarled. Fine drops of spit misted from his mouth.

  “Is someone over there?”

  “Are you watching a guy take a shit?”

  “No, you fucking retards.” Jackson turned to address his friends. “This fucking faggot was eavesdropping on us. It’s probably gonna’ go tell a teacher now.”

  “I’m—I’m not a snitch!” Jet managed to choke out. Jackson disappeared, and the bodies next door shifted. Then a tall silhouette appeared in the crease of the door. Jet flinched as Jackson punched the door to his stall.

  “Open this door up and come out!” Jackson demanded.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “You’re going to get us in trouble, dumbass.”

  “I said, open up!” Jackson screamed, kicking the door now and shaking all walls of all the stalls.

  “I’m out of here. Your dumbass is going to get us in trouble.”

  “He always does this when he hits a bowl. I never saw someone get angry after they smoke weed.”

  Jet could hear the footsteps of the other boys move towards the exit of the bathroom.

  “Why do we even smoke with him?”

  “Because he always throws down?”

  “Right...” The door clunked.

  Jet was now alone in the boy’s bathroom with Jackson. If this guy’s friends didn’t even want to be around him, the news was bad. The trembling in his hands broke out across his whole body.

  “I said, open up!” Jackson kicked the door repeatedly, trying to break it in. Jet thought he might cry or wet himself.

  “I didn’t do anything to you! Leave me alone!” Jet wailed as he curled into a ball on the toilet.

  “I’m sick of fruits like you shoving your justice bullshit down everyone’s throats. You freaks got my friends expelled and my dad lost his job because of some ‘me too’ bullshit!” Jackson continued to pound on the door as he shouted. The latch squealed, bent, then snapped off, causing the stall door to ricochet off the wall. Jackson lunged at Jet, and the two tussled in the tight space. They thrashed in the stall as Jackson clumsily tried to rain down punches on Jet who had two fistfuls of Jackson’s hemp hoodie.

  “Fucking freaks! You’re ruining this cou
ntry,” howled Jackson as he grabbed the back of Jet’s neck and flipped open the toilet lid with his shoe. He forced Jet’s face towards the toilet bowl. Jackson was much bigger and stronger than him, and the strength in his arm was unbearable. Jet’s face moved closer and closer towards the surface of the water. In a moment of thinking, Jet flushed the toilet to save himself, but the bowl rapidly filled again.

  “Drink it, you shit!” screamed Jackson, his nails digging into the back of Jet’s neck. Jet could see his face approaching the water. His arms shook as he held the rim, trying to keep clear. Jackson kicked his wrist. Jet closed his eyes and held his breath as his head plunged into the bowl. The cold toilet water stung his face. Jet could still hear Jackson screaming but couldn’t make out what he was saying. His lungs burned. Maybe Jackson would drown him then and there. His head banged against the ceramic. He twisted, trying to kick in the cramped space. The hand on his neck faltered. Jet reared back and gasped for air as kicks collided with his back. He curled up to defend himself as Jackson kicked and stomped him. Anything was better than drowning. Each strike was excruciating, burning all the more because the boy hated him for just being who he was. Finally, Jackson backed up, gasping for breath.

  “You stay the fuck out of my school!” Jackson spit on him and stalked out. Jet drew his knees up and found that he was sobbing. His whole body hurt, and he was covered in toilet water. Who knew what filth was in his hair? He ran a hand across his head and discovered that his brand-new hoodie was ripped around the neck. He couldn’t stop shaking, icy and fear sank hooks deep into his bones. Who should he go to? He didn’t know anyone. The teachers had been friendly, but in his experience, they hated problems that involved students and paperwork. Plus, just walking out of the bathroom would be too humiliating right now. His hair dripped water down his back.

  This school was a nightmare, just like every other one out there. A hateful bigot was already gunning for him. All he did was try to hide in the bathroom, and it had blown up in his face. If he had never asked his dad about getting his GED, then this never would have happened. If he’d didn’t have a phone, if his dad wasn’t so fucking thoughtful all the time, Jackson would have never known he was there. What was Jackson’s problem? Plenty of people had taken a disliking to Jet, but never on the first meeting. Usually they built themselves up to using their fists. Most stuck to taunting him for being girly – at least for a while. Jackson had lost his crackers at first sight.

  Jet looked down and saw his lunch smashed and ruined, covered in the toilet water that flooded the stall. He couldn’t be sure that it was just water. A whimper broke loose. The food was inedible and his stomach empty. Today was going to be a long day. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the screen wasn’t broken. He wasn’t about to ring the random girl from Algebra who liked his makeup. He hadn’t typed in her number but could probably remember it if he tried. The only person he knew at the entire school was Liam, and he hadn’t even thought to get his number. Maybe Liam didn’t even want his number. Maybe Liam was just nice to everyone and had shown Jet around because it was his responsibility as a page.

  Jet couldn’t even muster the will to close the stall door as someone walked in. He rested his head and arms on his knees and waited.

  He heard the splash in the urinal, then watched as feet moved to the sink. Jet’s stomach lurched again as he saw none other than Liam washing his hands. Shame burning its way through his ears, Jet only watched as he washed then dried his hands. Liam turned to throw out his paper towel, then took a step back as Jet caught his eye.

  “Holy shit! What the fuck happened?” Liam rushed over and squatted down. The sobs that had quietened broke out of Jet’s throat again. The one person he had thought of was there, smelling of clean clothes and ham sandwich. He threw his arms around Liam and let the tears fall. Liam let him cry, holding him gently. He felt like a sturdy lighthouse in Jet’s tight grip.

  Jet sobbed as the adrenaline ran through him. Hate, hate, hate. Hate and shame. Not just today, but many thousands before it. Since the day mom died, catapulting him into a nightmare that refused to end. Why couldn’t anyone accept him? Why was it always the stares, the insults, the bruises? His sobs built into screams, muffled against Liam’s shoulder, and his lithe body spasmed with pain. Liam adjusted his position to brace against the wall, but made no move to leave, only holding on and not saying a word. His hand stroked Jet’s back, bringing a whole new flood of emotions to Jet’s battered soul.

  “Who hurt you?” Liam whispered in his ear, making Jet ache with need. No one had ever been this gentle with him.

  Jet’s cried faded to hiccups. He brushed his soaked face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “It was Jackson...” Jet’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Liam tensed up, turned, and slammed his fist against the stall wall.

  “Fuck!” Liam yelped, shaking feeling back into his hand. “I’m so sick of that motherfucker! All he does is make people miserable. We have to go tell Nordstrom and get him expelled. This is our chance.”

  Liam grabbed Jet’s arm to help him up, but Jet refused to stand. He shook his head.

  “Come on. We have to go tell the principal,” said Liam, tugging on his arm.

  “Please don’t make me do this,” Jet whined.

  “I’ll go with you. We can finally get that dickhead kicked out of the school.”

  “I don’t want to tell them what happened. It’s too…” Warm tears slid down Jet’s cold cheeks.

  “I’ll go with you.” Liam’s kind voice threatened to undo Jet’s composure. But no amount of kindness could soothe away the humiliation.

  “Please don’t make me.” Jet cried into his hands, unable to look at Liam. He was acting so shameful and pathetic. If he could just tell someone what happened, would it all go away? Or...or they wouldn’t believe him. Jackson had friends who could lie for him. What if they only suspended Jackson, and then he came back madder? Next time he really would drown him. Jet’s throat clamped with the memory.

  Liam’s face tightened with anger. “You can’t let him get away with this shit! If you don’t do anything, he’s just going to keep picking on you. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “How the fuck do you know? Look how big you are! Like anyone’s ever stuck your head in a…!” Jet’s voice rose. He couldn’t even say the word.

  Liam studied Jet for a moment. Jet dropped his gaze. It was like bags of rotten garbage were being torn up and dumped out inside him. He wanted to die. He wanted to cut himself again. Liam shouldn’t be here to see this. Instead of abandoning him, Liam sat on the floor next to him.

  “Don’t!” Jet indicated the water, but Liam shook his head to silence him.

  “When I was a freshman, I was about your size, maybe only a little bigger. The seniors at the time were real tools. Before Mr. Nordstrom was principal here and the lawsuit and all, this school was nasty. Between classes they used to chase me around the halls, and if they could corner me, they’d punch me in the kidneys. They thought it was a game. I was a game to them. I wanted to kill myself. Every day I dreaded coming to school. They finally graduated but there were still new seniors who picked on me. They fucked with my stuff, figured out how to get in my locker and dumped a bunch of garbage in there. Stole my things.” Liam sighed

  “Then, that summer, I had a huge growth spurt. I grew five inches in four months. I asked my older brother to show me how to work out. I started doing bench presses and chin-ups and stuff. When I came back to school, I was a junior. Anyone that thought about pushing me around thought twice.” He gave an apologetic shrug as if growing taller and stronger was something to be sorry about. “Then that whole thing with Bethany Mills happened – that trans kid I told you about. All the scum have been forced out one by one. The school’s finally been sane. Jackson is the last of that crew. He’s been quiet for ages…I thought.”

  Jet stared at Liam. Sitting on the damp floor next to him, the other boy suddenly didn’t seem as tall. Jet ached to l
ean in and kiss away the sad look on Liam’s handsome face. But now was not the time. Jet didn’t feel very beautiful at the moment. Toilet water still dripped off him.

  Jet rubbed his forehead. “I get that…but…I’m sorry, I can’t. I don’t want to tell anyone what happened. It’s too humiliating. It’s not just today…there’s been other stuff…If he comes back, it’ll be so much worse.”

  Liam shot him a look. “Here?”

  Jet shook his head. “Nah, ages…a while ago.”

  The bell rang and Liam stood. Jet expected him to walk away. After all, Jet had refused to help with his crusade.

  “Come on. That was the bell.”

  Jet looked up to see Liam holding his hand out. Jet took it, and Liam pulled him to his feet. Then Liam helped gather his things. Jet rinsed his hair and washed his mouth in the basin while Liam kicked his destroyed lunch into a corner. Dragging off his hoodie, Jet used the inside to pat his hair and then his pants dry. He whispered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity might be listening that he had worn black pants. About to open the door, Liam grabbed Jet’s arm and turned him around. Their faces were just one foot apart. Jet’s heart leaped, expecting a kiss.

  “Your mascara is smeared everywhere.” Liam lifted his chin to indicate Jet’s face. Jet turned. There were no mirrors in the boys’ bathroom, but the chrome paper towel dispensers reflected the black streaks on his cheeks.

  “That’s my eyeliner. I need to wash it off.”

  “You’re going to be late. Let me help.”

  Liam took a wad of paper towels then added soap and water to them. Jet quivered as Liam held his face with one hand and cleaned it with the other. It was the single most romantic moment of his life. They held each others’ stare as Liam cleaned the shame from his face.