“Hey, you can do it. It’s easy!”
Lucas gave a little jump, turned around, and sighed as he looked into the narrow dark eyes of the most beautiful human being he had ever seen.
“Want me to help?” the boy asked, flipping his mop of dark brown hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. “I taught a bunch of kids last year when I was in kindergarten.”
A bunch of kids hadn’t known how to tie their shoes? That perked up his ears. Lucas looked up at his mother.
She smiled. “Do you want him to help?”
Then he realized something. He did want the boy to help him. He thought he would do anything the boy wanted him to do, even ask his mom to take the training wheels off his bike (which was a big scary because he was afraid of falling and getting hurt!).
“Sit down,” said the boy, pointing to the landscaping wall along the sidewalk.
Lucas sat.
“What’s your name?” asked Lucas’s mother.
“Dalton Churchill. Like Winston Churchill. Only it’s Dalton.”
He smiled, and Lucas knew Dalton was the most beautiful boy on the planet.
“Who’s Winston Churchill?” Lucas asked.
Dalton shrugged and got down on one knee before Lucas. “I don’t know. I think he’s a minister. Okay, now, first you pull your laces up and then cross them over, like this.” Dalton demonstrated.
“I can tie a knot,” Lucas said, wanting very much not to look like a complete dope in front of Dalton. Then he frowned. “It’s the other part I get mixed up on.”
“That’s cool,” Dalton said, tying the knot. “Okay…. So here’s the tricky part. First you make a loop and stick it up so it looks like a tree—see?”
Lucas nodded. He wasn’t sure the upward turned loop looked much like a tree, but he wasn’t going to tell Dalton that.
“Then you take the other lace and wrap it around the bottom like this—like a dog running around the tree.”
Lucas smiled. “My neighbor has a dog. His name is Super Mario.”
“That’s a great name,” Dalton said, laughing.
Then he finished showing Lucas how to tie his shoe.
“Wow,” Lucas said.
But then Dalton untied the shoe.
“Hey!” cried Lucas.
“Now you do it,” Dalton said. He nodded. “You can. I know you can. Easy.”
Lucas wanted to yell, “No, I can’t!” but he quite suddenly knew he could not disappoint the pretty boy with the beautiful eyes. He sighed. What had Dalton said about a tree? He made a loop with one of the laces.
“Just like that, but the other one. Unless you’re a southpaw.”
Lucas looked up through his own dark bangs. “Huh?”
“Southpaw means left-handed.”
“Oh!” Lucas giggled. “I’m not.”
“Tree!” Dalton ordered, brows knitted together.
So Lucas made a loop with his shoelace.
“Yes!” Dalton said with such enthusiasm Lucas would have thought he’d ridden down to the corner and back on his bike without training wheels. He laughed and then thought about dogs running around the base of trees. A moment later, Lucas had tied his shoe. His mother clapped.
“Yes,” shouted Dalton. “I knew you could do it, Lucas.”
Dalton walked the rest of the way to school with them. But even better, he also promised to walk Lucas to school the next day.
2
“I STILL think he’s a little young to be walking to school by himself,” Lucas’s mother said that night over dinner. “His mother should be walking with him.”
“But he’s a Big Kid,” Lucas said. “He’s in the first grade. Besides, he won’t be walking alone anymore. He’ll have me with him.”
His mother raised her eyebrows.
“I’m going to marry him someday,” Lucas said and dipped his fish stick in the puddle of ketchup on his plate, then took a big bite.
His mother laughed. “You can’t marry Dalton,” she told him.
“Why not?” Lucas asked. Why couldn’t he?
“Because boys can’t marry boys,” she explained.
Lucas gave her a curious look. Took another bite of his fish stick. “Why not?” he asked. That didn’t make any sense.
“Boys marry girls,” she said, and she wasn’t smiling now, and that made Lucas feel funny. “Two boys can’t have babies. You get married so you can have children.”
“We could adopt,” he said, wondering why that wasn’t obvious. “Like your friend Angie. Didn’t you say Angie got a baby because it didn’t have a mommy to love it?”
Lucas’s mother sighed in that way that told him he should stop. But it was frustrating. He wanted to talk about it. Today he had met the boy he was going to marry one day. He knew it.
“It’s not legal. A marriage is between one man and one woman.”
“But what if two boys fall in love?”
She bit her lower lip. “Lucas….”
“Can we take the training wheels off my bike?” he asked, changing the subject.
It worked. She laughed again. “What brought that on, honey? There’s no reason to rush.”
He nodded and stuffed the half fish stick that was left into his mouth.
“Lucas! You’re going to choke!”
“Sowwy, Mhum,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fish.
Why did he want to take the training wheels off his bike? Because he didn’t want to look like a little kid in front of Dalton. That’s why. It turned out that Dalton was a Big Kid. He was in first grade.
Lucas smiled.
Because he knew what he knew.
Today he had met the boy he was going to marry.
1998
1
IT WAS the summer between sixth grade and junior high, and Lucas was in the basement of Diego Hernandez’s house—Diego was a friend of Dalton’s. Diego and Dalton were going into the eighth grade, and it was a big deal that he’d let Lucas even come.
Diego’d had a pool party with like fifteen kids swimming all afternoon. Diego’s father had cooked hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill, and there had been a ton of food. Lucas thought Diego’s family must be rich.
And now, somehow, Lucas was left with the handful of hangers-on—Dalton and two giggly girls and Diego of course—after the party wound down.
He’d been feeling wonderful.
But that came to an end the minute Diego announced it was time to play spin the bottle.
Spin the bottle? Wasn’t that the game where you had to kiss girls? Girls in bathing suits?
He looked at Dalton (who looked so nice in his trunks and his sexy bare chest).
And what did Dalton do? Shrug. Shrug? Was Dalton wanting to do this? Did he want to kiss girls?
Lucas looked at the two giggling girls, who were eyeing Dalton and Diego. Of course they were. Who wouldn’t look at Dalton?
He glanced at Diego, who was okay, but God—he was no Dalton.
“I’ll be right back,” Diego said and scrambled up the stairs.
Now the girls were looking at Lucas. They were giggling again. It didn’t seem like the same nervous laughter inspired by their glances at the other boys.
This was not good. His stomach was clenching. He felt like puking.
Diego came back down the stairs, and to Lucas’s total surprise, he had a bottle of alcohol.
Please God, thought Lucas. Please make that the bottle we’re supposed to spin and not anything else.
“Okay!” said Diego. “Here’s the rules. First you take a drink—”
Oh no.
“—and then you spin, and you have to kiss whoever it lands on. No exceptions.”
Oh no!
Lucas looked pointedly at Dalton. Really? he tried to beam. Alcohol? They were twelve. Well, Dalton was thirteen but…. Booze? He bobbed his head to the side, trying to tell Dalton that he wanted to talk to him alone about this!
Dalton shook his head. He dragged his fingers through his hair, p
ulling his mop of bangs out of his face. They immediately fell back where they were before. Where they always were.
“Okay, everybody.” Diego pointed at the floor. “Sit!”
The girls were there in two seconds, Diego was already sitting, and Dalton was making his way over. He nodded at Lucas. Nodded again. Come on, he mouthed.
Lucas felt like crying. He felt like running. He looked at the stairs. Considered bolting.
“Come on, Lucas,” Diego said. “Dalton said you’re cool.”
He felt like he’d been slapped.
Lucas watched as Dalton sat down. Dalton was looking at him with those pretty brown eyes of his, but right then it didn’t seem to matter how pretty those eyes were. He felt like he was being betrayed.
Please, Dalton said soundlessly.
Lucas sighed, walked to the circle, and took his place.
Diego waggled his eyebrows. “It’s my house, so I’ll go first.” He opened the bottle and took a swig, squinted his eyes as he swallowed, screwed the lid back on, put it on the floor, and spun.
It made this weird glassy sound, almost musical and almost creepy at the same time, against the wooden floor. It seemed to go on forever.
Finally it stopped, pointing at the ginger girl with tons of curls. Julie, he thought her name was.
Once more the girls giggled—what was it about girls and giggling?—and Julie leaned over the bottle, holding her long curls out of her face, and kissed Diego. Then she sat back, blushing and covering her mouth.
“Okay, Julie. Your turn.”
“Okay. But do I have to drink?”
Diego nodded enthusiastically. “You bet.”
So Julie drank, and she winced like she’d sucked on a lemon—“That’s not too bad,” she said—and spun the bottle. Woop woop woop it went on the floor, and who should it land on?
Dalton.
Of course.
Lucas bit his lower lip. No. Please, no.
They kissed.
God.
Lucas wanted to cry.
Somebody was kissing Dalton. And it wasn’t him.
Dalton drank. He didn’t flinch at all. He twirled the bottle.
It landed on the girl with the hair bleached so white she could have been an albino.
And once more, Dalton was kissing a girl.
This was twice Dalton was kissing girls!
Bleached Hair took a swallow of the alcohol—her expression changed less than Dalton’s!—and then sent the bottle spinning.
The bottle stopped. It was pointing… Directly. At. Him.
Lucas shivered.
He looked at the girl.
She didn’t look very happy about it either. B.H. shrugged, started to lean over, and….
“What’s your name?” he blurted. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t know….”
She cocked her head. “Samantha.”
Lucas looked over at Dalton—who was nodding. And now it really was all he could do not to cry. He looked back at Samantha. Saw the expression on her face. What was it? Was it hurt? Did he do that to her? Had he hurt her feelings?
So Lucas smiled—or hoped he was smiling—and closed his eyes and bent in… and…. They kissed. It was light. It was fast. And it was his first ever in the world kiss.
He took a deep breath and hoped-hoped-hoped that no one noticed how much he was trembling.
It wasn’t too bad.
Why are you doing this?
But then why did anyone do this? What was the big deal? It wasn’t gross, exactly, but why on Earth did two people stick their mouths against each other’s? Who was the first person to even think of such a thing?
Why was he doing it?
Lucas turned and saw Dalton’s eyes on him. They were weird. Shiny.
“Your turn to spin,” Diego cried.
God. I have to do this again.
He reached down and prepared to spin that bottle.
“Hey,” Samantha said. “You gotta drink first!”
Lucas sat back, looked around at all the faces watching him. “Do I have to?” His mother would be very upset if he drank alcohol. She hadn’t wanted him to come to the party in the first place. Thought Diego was too old, and Lucas had insisted that was silly. Diego was only one year older. And she liked Dalton. Finally she had said okay, but only if he was very good and didn’t get into trouble.
Wasn’t drinking trouble?
They all nodded or said, “Hell yeah,” or “If I had to, you have to,” or worse, “You chicken?” The last was from Diego.
But worst of all was Dalton. Dalton knew Lucas’s mom would be mad. That this could get him into all kinds of trouble. But he still said….
“Drink, Lucas.”
I should go. I should run. I should get the heck out of here!
But what would Dalton think? What would Dalton’s friends think? He so wanted to look cool in front of them. If he didn’t take a drink, they would think he was a scared little kid.
He felt like a scared little kid.
Then, before anyone could say anything more (or call him chicken again), Lucas grabbed the bottle, looked at it—vanilla-flavored vodka; at least it was flavored—screwed open the lid, and taking a deep breath first, drank. It went down sweet and hot and—ka-pow!—it hit his stomach hard. Whoa. He actually felt dizzy for a minute. People drank this crap?
Julie laughed. Samantha said, “Yes!” Diego said, “Good!” Dalton said, “You okay there, tiger?”
Tiger?
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m great.” Then before he could change his mind, he spun the bottle. It landed on Samantha again. Thank God. At least it was the same girl.
The kiss was almost as fast, and he was so thankful she didn’t try and make it last. Somehow he didn’t wipe his mouth, although he found he wanted to.
Samantha drank and twirled the bottle.
It landed on Julie.
The two of them looked at each other in surprise. Samantha looked at Diego, her face a question.
“Go on!” growled Diego. “No exceptions. None.”
Samantha looked at Julie, who shrugged, and then they did it. They kissed.
Wow. Girls kissing. Who’d have thought such a thing?
He bit his lips—thought about it.
Well, why not?
And then Julie was kissing Diego again. And then Diego and Samantha. And then Samantha and Dalton. (Aaaarrrgh!) And then….
Dalton sent the bottle spinning—
(woop woop woop)
—and it landed on Lucas.
Lucas’s eyes flew wide. His mouth fell open. He looked up into Dalton’s equally surprised face. Lucas closed his mouth with an audible click.
Dalton sat back on his heels. “I’m not kissing my best friend!” he objected.
“Oh yes you are!” shouted Samantha. “Julie and I kissed, and I am not missing two boys kissing!”
Lucas’s heart was trip-hammering.
He locked eyes with Dalton.
Dalton locked eyes with him.
“God damn do it, Dalton,” snapped Diego.
“Fuck,” muttered Dalton. Lucas had never heard him say “fuck.”
“Do it!” said Julie.
“Fucking do it!” said Samantha.
Would he?
And then Dalton’s eyes closed and he leaned toward him and—
This is it.
—they kissed.
It lasted only a second. A brief moment. Dalton’s lips against his.
Lucas thought his heart would explode.
And he quite suddenly understood why people kissed.
2
THEY DIDN’T stay much longer. Diego’s parents caught them.
And they made it clear they were calling everyone’s parents. “Drinking, Diego! I can’t believe you all are drinking!” Apparently Diego’s dad hadn’t cared about the kissing.
“Do you think they’ll really call?” Lucas asked. “Mom will kill me if they call. She didn’t want me to go in the first place. S
he’ll say, ‘This is just what I knew would happen!’”
He glanced down at Dalton’s hand. He shivered. He wanted to take that hand in his. After all, they’d kissed. Shouldn’t they hold hands? He wouldn’t be so afraid of what might happen if Dalton held his hand.
Why didn’t Dalton say anything? Didn’t Dalton care that he could get into a whole lot of trouble?
“I don’t want you to tell anyone,” Dalton said.
Lucas stopped. “Huh?”
Dalton turned. “Nobody can know.”
“Huh?”
“Nobody can know we kissed.” Dalton made a slashing motion through the air. “Nobody.”
“B-but why?” Lucas asked. He felt like Dalton had just reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.
“Oh, come on,” Dalton cried. “How can you ask that? You want everybody calling us fags?”
Lucas opened his mouth to answer and found he didn’t know what to say. Fags.
It hit him.
I’m a fag.
I’m gay!
Wow….
He smiled. The squeezing in his chest stopped. He quite suddenly felt like he could fly.
“What the hell are you smiling about?” Dalton snapped.
Lucas shook his head. “Dalton, does it matter what people think?”
“Lucas! If people think we’re fags, our whole high-school lives are over!”
“But Dalton…. What if it’s true?”
“What?”
Lucas shrugged and tried not to laugh. “If they call me a fag, then they’ll be right. I am a fag.”
Dalton’s mouth fell open.
Then Lucas saw the sudden dawning knowledge on Dalton’s face: “Oh God,” Dalton said. “That marriage thing! When you proposed to me when you were in kindergarten! I thought you were just being a silly kid.”
Lucas shrugged. “Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. I don’t know.”
“Lucas.”
Interesting. Now Dalton looked like he was going to cry.
Dalton took a step closer. “Lucas. You can’t know you’re gay.”
“Why not?” He spread his hands. “I asked you to marry me when I was… what… five? Today I kissed a girl for the first time. I didn’t like it, Dalton. Not one bit. But—wow!—I sure liked kissing you.”
Dalton looked at him in complete shock. “Lucas….”
A More Perfect Union Page 24