by Laurent Linn
“I . . . I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
He bites his lip. “You don’t mind I asked her, do you? It’s just an idea.”
Turning away from everyone zooming around us like fish in a stream, I lead us over to the wall. “Would they really pay me?”
He shrugs. “You’re so good and you’d be a great teacher, I bet.”
So many thoughts pop up, like how would I get there and, well, what do I know about little kids?
He watches my face. “Look, tomorrow’s Saturday and the art teacher should be there like she was last week. I could pick you up and we’d go together. You could bring some art to show her. It’d be fun!”
“I don’t know. It’s kinda scary.” I check the wall clock and we start moving.
He nods. “Maybe it’s a stupid idea.”
“No, it’s a good idea. Better than anything I’ve thought of. I really need a phone.”
We come to the corner where we have to go in different directions.
I breathe in deep. “Okay, why the hell not? Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”
He smiles. “And we’ll get to drive around together, alone.”
“I like this idea more and more.”
We tap shoes and go our ways.
Then it hits me. Oh, man. If this actually works, how the hell do I explain to my parents I got a job teaching kids . . . at a gay center?
“WHOA.” TRENT HOLDS HIS HAND in front of his eyes. “That’s some shirt you’re sportin’ there, Señor Sunshine.”
“Felt like a yellow day this morning.” I drop my lunch bag on the table, sit down across from him, and take out the tuna salad sandwich and Pop-Tarts I packed this morning. The sounds of chairs scraping the floor and people chattering bounce all around the cafeteria.
His tray is covered with three huge slices of veggie pizza and an iced tea. He checks me out. “Guess that shirt distracts the eye from those bruises Doug gave you.”
I look up at him. “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me how you got that bloody nose? Seems like you should’ve told me before putting it on your website.”
“I meant to tell you first,” I say, “honestly. Everything’s just happening so fast.”
“I’m not the only one who saw it and gets what it means.” He eyes Audrey as she carries her tray our way.
Oh, man.
She places her slice of pizza and a latte on the table, plops her purse beside them, and slides into the seat. She’s wearing a necklace of deep ruby-red glass beads, which pop against her black dress.
“When did you get that necklace? It’s gorgeous.”
She shoots me the Audrey Eye. “Uh-huh. Go ahead, try and butter me up. You’ve got lots of explaining to do.”
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I meant to.”
She takes a sip of her latte. “Well, tell me now.” She looks hard at my face, at the last of the bruising under my eyes. “What did he do to you?”
I scoot my chair closer to the table. They scoot in as well.
“Oh, boy,” I say. “There’s so much more than just that. And I’m only going to tell you if you promise not to freak.”
Audrey arches an eyebrow. “I ain’t promising nothin’.”
Trent points a slice of pizza at Audrey. “What she said.” He takes a huge bite.
“Then I’m not telling you everything.”
She groans and looks at the ceiling. “Fine, I’ll stay calm. But now you have me worried.”
I glance at Trent.
His mouth full of pizza, he gurgles some noises and points the crust at Audrey.
I take a deep breath, lower my voice, and tell them all about Doug writing the notes, my plan in the balcony, and what happened there.
Audrey keeps interrupting with “Oh, no, he did not write those notes” and “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Trent just keeps saying “Dude” in various tones.
This is so good to let out. Why didn’t I tell them sooner?
Audrey interrupts me as I explain about my trap to get Doug’s confession on video. “What were you thinking? I would never have let you do something so stupid.”
Ah, yes. That would be why I didn’t say anything sooner.
I ignore her and keep going, finally saying why he wrote the notes.
Trent drops his pizza. “Well, even if he does give a crap if Kobe’s okay, it sounds like he really wants—”
“To cover his own damn ass?” Audrey shouts.
“Shhhh!” I scan around. A few people heard her but just give us curious looks, then turn away.
I speak softly. “You said you’d stay calm.”
“How can—” She drops her voice. “How can I stay calm when you lay that on me?”
“Dude.”
I hold up my hand. “As weird as this sounds, I could tell he really meant it when he asked if Kobe is better. There’s some humanity in there. Has to be. Otherwise . . . I don’t know. There’d be no hope.”
Audrey crosses her arms. “I ain’t buyin’ that.”
“Well then, hang on, ’cause it gets weirder.” I get antsy describing how Doug freaked, kicking the seats and flipping out, losing control.
Then how I freaked and fell and got the bloody nose.
I even describe how, in his scary, effed-up way, he tried to help me. Well, kind of help.
They stay quiet.
I keep going and finish bringing them up to date, ending with my last note to Doug, wrapped around his keys.
Trent just shakes his head. “My friend, you are an enigma enclosing a mystery, inside a, well, all that. But like I keep sayin’, you got balls.” He takes a bite of pizza and wipes his black-nail-polished fingers on yet another napkin. “Not so sure that’s a good thing, though. For you.”
Audrey gawks at me. She hasn’t touched her pizza. “You had Doug’s car keys? How the hell did you get Doug’s car keys?”
“Oh, right, you are behind.” I inhale. “Well, after—”
She flaps her hands in the air. “Never mind, don’t tell me now. I’m gonna pass out cold on this very floor if I hear any more.” She fans her face and takes a long drink of latte.
Trent blinks. “Graphite Boy—I can say that in public now, yes?—either you really are a superhero or you’re just a wacko magnet.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m stuck to you guys.”
He nods. “I rest my case.”
“How can so much happen to you in just a few days?” Audrey says.
I beam. “Well, something else happened too. Something awesome.” Memories of me and Lev in my bed come to mind. My insides crackle.
Audrey looks up at the ceiling and drops her arms on the table with a thud. “Oh, Lord, what now?”
Trent eyes me through his bangs.
People talk loud all around us, but I lower my voice and lean even closer. “So—”
“Hold up! I need sustenance.” She takes a huge bite of pizza, chews, and swallows. “All right, lay it on me.”
And I do. Not the details, god no, but just that Lev and I had some fun last night.
Audrey sits back. “Oooooooh! I like this story. Don’t leave me hanging with that. Tell me more.”
“No, don’t.” Trent holds up half a pizza crust. “Still eating.”
In the corner of my eye, I notice Carmen coming our way. I sit up as she stops at our table.
“So,” she says, “this may sound weird, and you can completely say no, okay?”
I shift in my seat. “Okay . . .”
“Those superheroes you drew on your Graphite site? Oh, my god, they’re so crazy awesome.” She looks at Audrey and Trent. “You guys must love your characters. They’re so cool and look just like you.”
Audrey plays with her beaded necklace. “Don’t know about that.”
Trent nods. “They’re cool.”
“Yeah. And . . .” Carmen pinches her lips. “Those scenes with Kobe’s character are so intense. Still can’t believe you did t
hat. A lot of people are talking about it.”
Audrey eyes me. “I bet they are.”
I ignore her.
Carmen adjusts her big neon-orange glasses. “So, I was wondering . . . You can say no, just thought I’d ask. But would you do a drawing of me as a superhero?”
I sit back in my chair. “Really?”
She talks fast. “Not for your comic, just for me to have. I don’t draw or anything, so I can’t do a trade, but maybe I could pay you something? Only if you want!”
“That’s so cool you’re asking,” I say. “Uh, let me think about it?”
She grins. “Sure, that’s awesome. Thanks. No rush!” She giggles and goes back to the drama table.
I turn to Audrey and Trent. “How cool is that?”
“You’re getting a little fan club going there, Graphite.” Trent takes a swig of iced tea.
“Yeah, well, not everyone’s a fan. You should’ve seen most of the comments people wrote on my site since yesterday.”
He blows the hair from his eyes. “I did.”
“First,” Audrey says, “that’s pretty impressive that Carmen wants you to make her a superhero. You should do it—”
Trent cuts in. “And charge her big-time. You don’t come cheap.”
Audrey shoots him the look. “What are you, his agent all of a sudden? Anyway, second, ignore all the haters. You got a lot of positive comments on your site too.”
I smile. “Yes, and thanks for what you wrote, Sultry.” As I down the rest of my lunch, I ask, “So, enough about me, what’s up with you guys?”
Trent laughs. “Man, my life is sooo freakin’ boring compared to yours.”
Audrey puts her hand in the air. “Amen to that and praise the Lord!”
“In fact . . .” Trent’s smile fades. “I wouldn’t mind if my life was more boring, if you know what I mean.”
I do—his mom. We look at each other, and then he turns away.
The bell rings, so we clean up and I move on.
As I pass the geek boy table on my way out, they nod at me and the bleached-blond one says, “Hey, Adrian.” I “Hey” him back.
Cool. Maybe they’re not so bad after all.
On the way to chemistry, I go by my locker and check for a note, but nothing.
The rest of the day I go looking for Doug between classes. I even walk by his locker a couple times, hoping for some sign of what he thought of my note. But we don’t cross paths. This sure is a big switch from me always trying to avoid him.
Since it’s Friday I’ll have to wait all weekend having no clue.
I don’t run into him or Buddy again.
Freakin’ Buddy.
After school, Audrey’s got a family church dinner to go to and Trent’s all excited about a new video game he needs to play “a-sap.” I’m not into either of those options and Lev has some Pep Club meeting, of course, so I just head home. After last night, I wish Lev would just skip Pep Club and be with me.
I take a long route home, walking along the edge of lawns and crunching on leaves.
When I walk through the front door, I find both Mom and Dad in the living room in front of the TV, the volume low. Late-afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, making glowing geometric patterns on the carpet. Dad reclines in his chair and Mom’s dressed in comfy clothes, sitting sideways on the couch with her legs up, her back propped against the armrest.
“Hi, honey,” she says. Her eyes are tired.
I plop my backpack on the floor. “You’re home.”
“Thank heavens.” She drops her arms to her sides. “I’ve been running around all day, and coming up this weekend, I have hotel shifts and three showings. Plus, I have to make a ton of cookies for the church bake sale on Sunday. Since I’m off tonight, I came straight home to relax.”
“Well, you deserve to.” I step into the living room and pet Harley, who’s curled up on the couch next to Mom.
“Adrian, honey?” Mom says. “I could really use your help with those cookies.”
“Why don’t I make them all for you?” I say.
Her eyes go wide. “Really? That’s so much work.”
“I know, but maybe my friends could come over tomorrow and help. Well, maybe not Audrey—can’t see her thrusting her manicured fingers into a bowl of batter.”
“She could just sit back and dictate what to do.” Mom slaps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, did I say that out loud?”
Dad and I crack up. Still curled in a ball, Harley opens one eye to see what’s going on.
“True,” I say. “But Trent might help, and my friend Lev.”
Dad and Mom glance at each other. Dad mutes the TV.
Uh-oh. What’s that about?
Mom shifts on the couch to face me, bringing her feet to the floor. “I haven’t met Lev, have I?”
I swallow. “No, not yet.”
I look at Dad. He guessed. Was it that obvious?
Mom asks how I know Lev and for how long.
No way. Is this the we-know-you’re-gay talk?
Right now?!
My heart speeding up, I cross my arms and just say we’ve gone to school together awhile and are in the same French class.
Mom wants to know his last name and about his family.
Oh, god. This is the we-know-you’re-gay talk!
This is actually happening at this very moment.
I tell them what I know, that his family sounds really nice and all that stuff.
This is so weird!
Mom listens while Dad stares down at the TV remote, turning it over in his hands.
Clearing her throat, Mom says, “So, can I ask?”
No way, really?
She continues. “Is he your special friend?”
I stifle a laugh, comes out like a snort. “Sorry. ‘Special friend’ just sounds funny.”
My cheeks heat up.
Here we go.
“It’s okay, you can say it. He’s my boyfriend.”
Time stops. Mom and Dad look at each other, then at me.
I hold my breath.
From her perch on the couch, Harley stretches, then snuggles back into a ball.
After a moment, Mom stands and takes my hands. Since she’s not wearing shoes, she’s a little shorter than me. “Is that what you want? Are you happy?”
I squeeze her hands. “I am.”
She looks right in my eyes. Her stare is intense, but so completely opposite from the way Trent’s mom glared at me, knowing I’m gay.
I hug my mom.
We let go and she wipes her eyes.
Dad keeps turning the remote over in his hands.
“So, uh, Dad?”
He nods but doesn’t look at me. “Seems like a nice guy.”
“He is.”
He takes a sip of his beer and unmutes the TV.
I go and pick up my backpack from the hall. “I’m gonna study in my room.”
Mom gives me a tight smile and sits back down, her hands in her lap.
Harley jumps off the couch and follows me into my room. I take a look back; Mom’s watching me go down the hall.
I close the door, drop my bag, and exhale a blimp’s worth of air.
Is that it? That’s the yes-I’m-gay conversation I’ve been dreading for so long?
I go sit on the edge of my bed, gaze out the window. Harley leaps up into my lap, settles in, and purrs.
Outside, the street is calm. No cars go by. But the wind is whipping all around, leaves swirling and bare trees dancing in the gusty air.
Like the world finally stopped holding its breath.
LAST SATURDAY I WAS STANDING here in front of my closet mirror figuring out what to wear for my first date. This Saturday I’m here trying on way too many shirts again, but for my first job interview. Or my first I-don’t-even-know-if-you-have-a-job-for-me-but-here-I-am-so-please-like-me interview.
Lev called his friend Maria at the LGBT center again and set up a time for him and me to meet with the art te
acher we saw there.
Mom’s at work, but Dad will be here when Lev picks me up in a couple hours. That’ll be interesting.
Neither Mom nor Dad has said a word about Lev or anything gay-related since our “talk” yesterday. But of course, every conversation since has purposefully not been about it, so we all might as well have been saying gay, gay, gay the whole time.
At least now it’s in the open. I’m not sure what that means, though.
So . . . what shirt says “Hey, gay center art teacher who doesn’t know me at all, I create comics, so I can easily teach little kids how to draw, now pay me money”?
Maybe long sleeves are best, but rolled up at the cuffs to show I’m casual? White says neat and calm, but blue is honest and true.
“Harley, it must be nice never having to care what people think about you or stress about what to wear.” Stretched across my pillow, she’s half asleep in all her kitty nakedness.
“Of course, you have a teeny brain and no opposable thumbs, so I guess it evens out between us.”
The phone rings. I dash to the hall and grab it before Dad can.
It’s Lev’s cute, gravelly voice.
I holler, “It’s for me!” and take it back to my room and shut the door.
I jump right in. “So, what do you think I should wear to this? It’s so hard.”
“Um, listen,” he says. “I’m SO sorry, but I can’t go after all.”
“What? But . . . what happened?”
“There aren’t usually Pep Club meetings on weekends, but we just decided we need one today. You know, the Halloween Hoedown is just a week away. Oh, my god, we have so many decorations to do by then!”
I grip the phone. “But me talking to that art teacher was your idea, and you already set it up with your friend Maria. They’re expecting us at three p.m.”
“I know, but you could still call and talk with the teacher on the phone, right?”
I flip through the sketches and drawings I gathered in a folder to use as my portfolio. “No. It’s not the same. I have all this art to show her. And I thought we were going together so I’d get to see you today. Plus, I’m going to help my mom make some cookies she needs for tomorrow. Since you’re in the Baking Club and all, I thought we could do it together. You could teach me some tricks.”