by Mark Roeder
The word ironic is way overused, but it was ironic that Shawn, the very boy who I’d almost blackmailed into sex, rescued me. He stopped Boothe when Boothe was…well I’m only going to say this once because it’s humiliating. I guess it shouldn’t be, because there wasn’t anything I could do about it, but…Shawn stopped Boothe when he was raping me. He’d just got started, but it hurt worse than anything ever in my entire life. I’m sure he would have killed me when he was done with me, too. We’d just robbed a grave, and it was still open right there beside us. He could have tossed my body in, covered it up, and no one would probably ever have known. Shawn saved me, though. He saved me, and then all the boys I’d been trying to prey upon—Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, and Casper—took me in and helped me. I’d been such a total ass, but they helped me when I’d needed it the most. Talk about a humbling experience. They were nothing but kind to me, but their kindness, coming after my horrible behavior, made me feel about two inches tall.
I’m not sorry I was humiliated and humbled. I needed it. I am a much better person now than I was back then. It didn’t happen overnight. I slipped up now and then, especially at first. I still slip sometimes, but I’m not the same little bastard who thought only of himself and was out to get laid no matter the cost to anyone else. I wasn’t proud of what I had been, but I was proud of who I’d become. Who knows? Maybe what happened with Boothe was a good thing in that it changed me. If it hadn’t happened, Shawn wouldn’t have rescued me, and I might still be the same little creep I was when I first came to Verona. I wasn’t thankful for what Boothe did to me, but I was thankful for how I’d changed.
I was too busy thinking to pay attention to where I was walking. Soon, I found myself back near the soccer fields. They didn’t seem quite so eerie now. Perhaps it was because the love I felt for Tim gave me a hint of the love Taylor and Mark had shared. Their lives had ended in tragedy, but they’d had each other. We all die sooner or later. What is important is how we live our lives. I intended to get all I could out of mine.
As I left the soccer fields and crossed the parking lot, I caught sight of a blond boy. Moments later, I recognized him: Devon. It was too late to veer off, and I didn’t want him to think I was afraid of him. To be honest, I was kind of afraid of him. He was a year older and somewhat bigger than I was. I was tough, however, and I knew how to put up a good fight. Still, I didn’t want to fight him. Chances were I’d get hurt.
Devon sneered at me as he neared.
“Faggot.”
I thought he was going to pass by and leave it at that, but at the last moment he grabbed my shoulder and jerked me around so that I was facing him.
“How do you live with yourself, faggot? How do you walk down the halls with everyone knowing what you are?”
“There’s nothing wrong with what I am.”
“You’re fucked in the head. You’re a sick pervert. You disgust me.”
“Just leave me alone, Devon.”
“Why? What are you going to do about it if I don’t?”
Devon shoved me.
“Huh? What are you going to do?”
He shoved me again, harder. I was forced to take a step back.
“You fucking faggot. I should fuck you up right now.”
I tensed, ready to fight.
“I should fuck you up.”
Devon and I both turned at the sound of the voice. Brandon Hanson stood not ten feet away.
Brandon closed on Devon and circled around him, eyeing him as if he’d love nothing better than to tear him to pieces. I had no doubt Brandon could do it, too. Brandon was about six foot, one sixty-five, with broad shoulders and lot of muscles. Devon trembled.
“Come on, Devon. Say something else. Talk some more shit to Dane. Give me an excuse to kick your ass.”
“We were just talking,” Devon said, holding up his hands.
“Bullshit.”
“Hey, I don’t want to fight you, Brandon.”
Brandon stepped up to Devon and poked him in the chest.
“That’s because you know I’ll kick your ass, or maybe you’re afraid I’ll finish what I started on the soccer field.”
Devon’s eyes widened in what I can only describe as abject terror.
“Please. I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong, Devon? Are you gonna cry? You’re not such a bad ass now, are you?”
Devon did look as if he was about to cry. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.
“Just let me go, man. We might get in trouble if we fight on school property. I don’t want to get suspended.”
“Yeah, you’re real worried about that, aren’t you, Devon?”
“Please. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then…Stop…Making…Trouble,” Brandon said, poking Devon hard in the chest with each word. “If you minded your own fucking business, you wouldn’t have any trouble.”
“Please…” Devon said in a pleading tone.
“Get out of here before I change my mind. If I start beating on you, I don’t think I can stop myself.”
Devon was out of there so fast he was little more than a blur. Brandon turned to me.
“I HATE that fucker.”
“I’m not too fond of him myself. Thanks for stepping in. I wasn’t looking forward to fighting him.”
“I’m sure you could do okay against Devon, but I put an end to his shit any time I get the chance. Hey, want a ride home?”
“Sure. I’m running a little late. I kind of lost track of the time, and then there was Devon…”
“Come on.”
I followed Brandon to his car and hopped in.
“If it’s none of my business, just say so, but what did you mean by finishing what you started on the soccer field?” I asked. “I thought Devon was going to crap his pants when you said that.”
“To make a long story short, I came this close to cutting his throat,” Brandon said, holding his index finger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart.
“You really…”
“Yes. I had a knife at his throat. I wanted to kill that fucker more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.”
“Why?”
“Because of what he almost did to Ethan and Nathan. Because of what he did to Taylor and Mark.”
“What did he almost do to Ethan and Nathan?”
“Devon and his buddies were going to kill them. They were going to hang them right out there on the soccer fields.”
I jerked my head toward Brandon. My eyes widened.
“You didn’t know that, did you?”
“No.”
“Almost no one does.”
“Why isn’t Devon in jail?”
“He should be, but Ethan and Nathan wanted us to let him and his buddies go.”
“Let them go? After that?”
Ethan and Nathan had been forgiving when it came to me, but I didn’t try to kill them!
“I know. Crazy, right? I went along with it, though. I was out of my head that night. After almost cutting Devon’s throat, I thought it best to let Ethan do the thinking. Believe me, I did NOT want to let Devon go.”
“Damn. Um…what did Devon do to Mark and Taylor?”
“He killed them.”
“Killed them? I thought they committed suicide!”
“They did, but he just the same as killed them. That fucking bastard and the others just like him—they drove Mark and Taylor to their deaths. They’re just as guilty as if they’d shot them dead.”
“Shit. I knew Devon was bad news, but I had no idea.”
“Most people around here don’t know the full extent of things. Verona harbors a lot of dark secrets.”
“You aren’t kidding. You were close with Taylor and Mark, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. Real close. Mark was my best friend. I knew him…forever. I didn’t know Taylor nearly as long, but we became close, even more so after I found out about him and Mark.”
“Did you suspect Mark was gay?”
�
�No. Not really. I guess I just didn’t think about it. It didn’t matter. I was surprised, but I guess it made sense. After I found out, some things kind of fell into place. You know? Things I didn’t pay attention to at the time. I was a little hurt that Mark didn’t tell me the truth when he first realized he was gay, but I also understood how difficult that would have been for him. I loved Mark. Losing him was so hard. Losing Taylor wasn’t much easier. I…I found Taylor’s body…Ethan, Jon, and I found him. He was there on the soccer field, right by one of the goals—dead. The rain was falling down on him. He…”
Brandon’s voice trembled, and a tear slid down his cheek.
“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s okay. It’s something that is always with me. I’m sure it always will be. I’m glad I didn’t find Mark. I’m glad I didn’t see him…like that.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“I feel responsible for Mark’s death. I knew in my heart he was going to kill himself, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. When I saw him, that last time, it was just after Mark found out about Taylor. I told him about finding Taylor. Mark was torn up. When I dropped him off at his house, I told him that everything was going to be okay. We both knew it was a lie, but what else was I going to say? I begged him to promise me he wouldn’t do anything stupid, and he said, ‘Whatever I do, it won’t be stupid. I promise.’ That’s exactly what he said. That was the last time I saw him alive. I thought about telling his parents that I was afraid he’d hurt himself, but they didn’t care about him. I even thought about calling the cops, but how could I do that? I kept telling myself that Mark wouldn’t kill himself. I guess the possibility was just so horrible I couldn’t let myself believe he’d really do it. You don’t think something like that is really going to happen. You know? God, I wish I could go back and stop it from happening, but I can’t, and I have to live with what I didn’t do.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Brandon.”
“That’s what everyone tells me, but I do. I was Mark’s best friend. I was my job to be on top of things like that. I failed, and he’s dead.”
“Brandon, I don’t claim to understand everything, but don’t you think Mark would have found a way, no matter what you did? If he wanted to kill himself, as he obviously did, no one could have stopped him.”
“You’re probably right, but that’s not going to bring Mark back.”
Brandon pulled up in front of the old schoolhouse that was my home.
“Thanks for the ride, Brandon, and thanks for saving me from Devon. If you ever want to talk about…anything, I’m here, okay?”
“Thank you.”
I climbed out of the car and headed for the house as Brandon drove away. I was right on time. What an interesting afternoon it had been!
As I entered the “house,” I had the feeling I was stepping into school. You’d think I’d grow accustomed to living in an old school building, but it still felt weird entering the wide hallway and climbing the big stairs up to what had once been a classroom. I guess it would have been much weirder if I’d actually attended school in the building, but no one had gone to school there for some fifty years.
I closed the door to my room. My few pieces of furniture were swallowed up by all the space, but I loved my room! My bedroom was bigger than the entire rental house I’d been stuck in when we first moved to Verona. It was quite a change.
I pulled my books out of my backpack to get a start on my homework, but then I realized I was hungry. Studying would just have to wait. I headed back downstairs toward the cafeteria. It didn’t seem quite right to call it the kitchen, although I did sometimes. Like everything else in my new home, it was just too big. The journey to the cafeteria was a long one, at least it was a lot longer than it had been in the Marmont house. The trip from my bedroom to the showers was even longer. I actually had to get up early every morning just because it took so long to get around the old school!
Don’t get me wrong. I loved the new place! It had lots of character. I still wasn’t used to having my own gymnasium. There was even some weight-lifting equipment, but it was so old it was kind of weird, and I wasn’t sure how to use it. There was lots to explore, like the spaces under the bleachers in the gym. The bleachers were enclosed, and there was a little door on each of the three sets of them that led underneath them. There was lots of cool old stuff in there, like old basketball uniforms, basketballs, props from plays, and all kinds of other stuff. I hadn’t looked at it all yet. I’d been much too busy!
Mom was in the kitchen of the cafeteria fixing supper. I grabbed a cookie, and I munched on it while Mom grilled me about my day. I told her about walking on the paths behind the soccer fields, but I left out the part involving Devon. Things had been rough for me back in Marmont, but I think Mom suffered more than I did. She’d cried when I got beat up, and her tears hurt worse than Billy’s fists. I didn’t want her to worry about me. Devon was dangerous, but I wasn’t in nearly as much danger in Verona as I had been back in my old hometown. I had friends here to protect me, guys like Brandon, who wouldn’t just stand back and let a jerk like Devon beat on me. I didn’t intend for Mom to get the least hint that everything wasn’t perfect. My task wasn’t that difficult. My life was so near perfect now I almost couldn’t believe it!
“What are you smiling about, Dane?”
“Tim,” I said.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“I love him, Mom.”
I blushed slightly. I still wasn’t quite accustomed to talking to my mom about how I felt about another boy. Mom and Dad had been accepting and supportive, but it was still a difficult topic to discuss with my parents.
“I’m glad he makes you happy.”
“He does. I like being with him. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing; it’s fun because I’m with him.”
“I remember when I felt that way about a boy.”
“Dad?”
“Before your father, although your father made me feel that way, too.”
“What happened? How did you end up with Dad if you loved someone else?”
“Things don’t always work out, Dane.”
“Did you have a fight or something?”
“No. We just grew apart. He went off for football camp one summer, and he wasn’t the same when he returned. I think he met someone there. I don’t know what happened, really, but he wasn’t the same boy he had been when he left. I wasn’t the same girl, either.”
“Did you meet someone, too?”
“No, but change can come quickly when you’re young. I think, perhaps, that both of us just needed something new. We did remain friends. We dated a little after that summer, but it wasn’t the same. Within a couple of months, we were both dating other people.”
“Tim and I are going to stick together. We’re not going to change.”
“Both of you will change, Dane. That doesn’t have to mean you’ll grow apart, but you will change. You may feel differently about Tim in a few months.”
“I don’t want to feel differently about him.”
“I know, but it’s likely.”
“Are you trying to depress me?”
“No. If your feelings for Tim change, it will be okay because you won’t be the same person.”
“Well, I may be a different person in the future, but I’m going to feel the same about Tim as I do now.”
“Perhaps you will. Perhaps you’ll be one of those who meet someone in high school and stay with them your whole life.”
“Do you know anyone like that?”
“Yes, I do.”
I smiled. “That’s going to be Tim and me, then; just you wait and see.”
Shawn
I sat across from Tristan at lunch, alternating between guilt and anger: guilt for hooking up with Blake, anger because Tristan refused to date me. I was also jealous. Tristan had been way too friendly with Nate London lately. I didn’t fail to notice the way Tristan looked at Nate. H
e wanted him. I’d had a crush on Nate before I met Tristan. Nate was on my football team. He had curly blond hair, green eyes, and a killer body. Checking him out in the showers made me breathe harder. I didn’t like the way Tristan and Nate gazed and smiled at each other. I’d never been able to figure out Nate’s sexual orientation, but I was beginning to suspect he was, at the very least, bi and possibly gay. If Tristan started dating Nate when he wouldn’t go out with me, I was going to be pissed!
The more I thought about Tristan and Nate, the angrier I became. Why should I feel guilty about getting it on with Blake when Tristan was flirting with another boy? What happened to not wanting to date? What happened to the whole friends-first idea? If he didn’t want to date me, why didn’t he just say so and be done with it? Did he find me that freaking hideous?
“Are you okay, Shawn?” Casey asked.
“I’m going to be,” I said testily, glaring at Tristan.
A quizzical expression crossed Tristan’s face, but I didn’t give him time to react. I got up and left the lunch table. My lower lip trembled slightly as I walked away, making me angrier still. I hated to cry, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to cry over Tristan! He wasn’t like Taylor at all. He was his evil twin! I was willing to bet Taylor didn’t put Mark through such hell. Taylor wouldn’t have played games with me. If only I’d… I stopped myself. I could not change the past, but I could change the present. It was time to forget about Tristan. Let him date Nate if he wanted. Let him date the whole fucking football team! I was through with pining over him. Why should I obsess over Tristan when boys like Blake York wanted me?