The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Home: A Gay Teen Coming of Age Paranormal Adventure about Witches, Murder, and Gay Teen Love (The Broom Closet Stories Book 2)

by Jeff Jacobson

  Later, Charlie sat in the kitchen with his aunt and uncle, eating leftovers. Amos slept by the blazing hearth.

  “Where is Malcolm anyway?” Randall asked.

  “I told you. He’s out popping kids.”

  “Come on, Bev. You didn’t look like you believed it when you said it to the group downstairs, and you don’t look like you believe it now. What’s up?”

  Charlie watched his aunt’s face, eager to hear her honest answer.

  Beverly picked up her fork, and then set it down on her plate. She twisted her wedding ring back and forth, then scratched her palm lightly before speaking.

  “I don’t know. This is unlike him. I can usually reach him. But he hasn’t been himself this week. He seems preoccupied. When Daniel told me about the other kidnappings, I called him to let him know. He basically brushed me off and said it probably wasn’t anything related to our community. This, from the man who is so protective of our kids that he’s basically gone ninety percent of the time, from one city or town or hamlet to the next, popping and educating and overseeing everything kid-related?

  “‘Why would I want a kid of my own?’” Beverly said, doing a very good imitation of Malcolm’s gruff voice. “‘I already have so many all over the world to parent.’”

  “What do you think is up?” asked Randall, his forehead crinkling.

  “I haven’t the slightest. I asked him about it but he just told me he’s extremely busy, even more so than usual.

  “Another thing,” she said after a moment, “I wish he were here to talk to the community. They trust him. They rely on him. He has more of a global vision, and I know how much they relax when he’s back home among us.”

  “Bev, you’re the heart of leadership for these people. Don’t think they don’t trust you. They’re wild about you, and you know it.”

  “I know they appreciate me, Randall. And many of them respect me. But I wouldn’t say they trust me. They trusted Dad, and look where that got them. I think it’s hard for them when they know that I’m his daughter.”

  “Don’t you think they’re passed all that now? That they can separate you from him?”

  “In good times, sure. But when the shit hits the fan, like it is now, I don’t know,” she said, looking at the window at the dark night, scratching her palm again, this time with an absent-mindedness that Charlie found to be a little spooky. “I just don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Creek Talk

  THE TWO BOYS WALKED along the trails at Carson Park. There was no dog yanking them along. No late summer sun to warm their backs. Just the two of them wearing boots and waterproof jackets as the rain drizzled down on them. Beverly had agreed to let Charlie go to the park with Diego on the condition that he wear his new talismans (two bracelets, a necklace, and a ring), all of which had been newly charged for protection and identification, should something happen. That, and the fact that the whole park had been newly fortified with wards of a much higher caliber than the community had ever used before, seemed to satisfy his aunt.

  Diego was upset. He had been mostly silent when he had picked up Charlie, other than a few questions about his new jewelry, which he had asked without really listening to the answers. But as soon as they entered the park, the boy looked around to make sure no one was listening, then turned to face Charlie.

  “What are you hiding?” Diego asked.

  Charlie looked at him in disbelief, which was genuine. Of course he was hiding things from him, but he couldn’t believe that the boy knew Charlie was lying. Diego talked about how strange Charlie seemed the last few days: quieter than normal, looking over his shoulder, not replying to voicemail or texts right away like he usually did.

  Finally Charlie responded. “Look, Diego, I don’t know how to tell you about it. Can we just walk for a while and then I’ll say something?”

  The boy had agreed, but the look on his face changed from suspicion to worry.

  Back in California, Charlie loved going on quiet hikes in the hills behind his house with Mike or another friend from school. They didn’t talk much. He enjoyed the quiet, enjoyed hearing the sounds of nature around them. But today, the silence between Diego and him was nearly unbearable.

  Charlie looked around him. More of the trees were changing color. Even though the wet weather dampened the fiery display of autumn leaves, the change was still noticeable. The ferns and the conifers retained their bright green hues, of course, but the deciduous trees seemed to be changing into their October coloring before September even finished.

  He felt a sense of foreboding. He had no idea what was going to happen with Grace or the others. He only knew it would probably happen soon. Of course he couldn’t tell Diego any of this. But there were some things he could confide.

  Charlie’s jeans were wet at the knees and the sides of his legs by the time the boys stepped out from the narrow wooded path and saw the clearing in front of them. He smelled the saltier, cooler air and saw the familiar expanse of the bridge above their heads.

  Without talking, they walked over to the bench and sat down. The light rainfall mottled the surface of the creek.

  Finally, Diego spoke. “Look, if you want to stop hanging out with me, just tell me, okay? I mean, this whole keeping-your-distance thing is really pretty awful. I’d rather know, instead of …”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “… have you sort of fade away, like a ghost or something.”

  “Diego, I don’t want to stop hanging out with you. Why do you always assume that’s the case whenever I’m upset or something?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that you seem so, not into it that much, is all.”

  “Believe me, what I’m going to tell you doesn’t have anything to do with not wanting to hang out with you.”

  “Is it about the, uh, the kissing?” he asked, whispering the last word and looking around to see if anyone could hear them. “Because if you’re feeling too much pressure …”

  Diego’s face looked so earnest, his eyelashes blinking so rapidly under the hood of his raincoat, that Charlie couldn’t help giggling.

  “What? Don’t tease me. Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m sorry. You just look so cute,” he said, then leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth. He kept his eyes open, watching as Diego’s nose doubled and his eyes blurred together from the close-up vision.

  “That’s the first time you’ve ever called me ‘cute,’” said Diego as their lips parted, his voice soft. “I like it.”

  “I’ve told you before that you’re cute.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Charlie felt badly. He knew Diego needed more reassurance than he gave him. But he wasn’t used to giving it. For one thing, Charlie hated the encouragement he had been given his whole life, by his mother, by teachers, by his friends’ parents, to open up more, to not be so shy. He knew it was well-intended, but it always left him feeling like there was something wrong with him. He didn’t want to do the same thing to Diego. And secondly, it was still hard for Charlie to believe that Diego, so self-assured and independent, needed to hear from someone else about his good characteristics.

  Charlie wanted to do better. Even now, by asking Diego to wait for him to disclose what he had been holding back, he was making the boy anxious and worried.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I was going to tell you. But you have to promise not to get mad. Or to do anything about it, okay?”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “Well, I want to tell you two things,” Charlie said. “I don’t think you’ll be mad at the first one. But don’t be mad at the second one, okay? You’ll probably want to go rush off and …”

  “Will you just freakin’ tell me?”

  Charlie explained that he came out to his aunt and uncle. Diego’s smile grew so large that the corners of his mouth expanded beyond the edge of his hood. In spite of himself, Charli
e smiled back.

  “How did it go? What did they say? Why did you decide to tell them?”

  Diego’s enthusiasm was so great that he didn’t seem to notice the holes in Charlie’s story. He told him about overhearing his aunt and uncle talking, about misunderstanding what Beverly meant when she said she didn’t want Charlie to be gay. He then lied, explaining that he stormed off in the middle of the night and that Beverly drove around until she found him. That he and his aunt and uncle had a huge talk about it all, and that they were supportive.

  “Oh, and they really like you, Diego,” Charlie said.

  Diego looked as excited as a little kid with a new toy.

  “This is totally cool. Hey, they can go to PFLAG meetings with my mom if they want to.”

  “What’s a pea flag?”

  “PFLAG. Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It’s a nationwide support group for people who love queer people. They have a local chapter, and I bet they’d …”

  “Uh, I don’t think that my aunt and uncle are support-group kind of people.”

  “Oh. Well, if they change their minds, maybe they could go with my mom. She likes to go sometimes when she doesn’t have to work late. I think it gives her some peace of mind and helps her overcome her own homophobia.”

  Diego went on to explain about how everyone was homophobic, that you couldn’t not be in this culture, that gay people’s homophobia was called internalized, that …

  Charlie stopped paying attention. He knew at times that Diego, who was very smart and had many thoughts running in his head at the same time, needed to talk things out to calm himself down. Usually Charlie just listened, knowing that it helped the boy to say things out loud. But today he had too many other things on his mind to be able to concentrate on the chatter.

  Eventually Diego stopped talking. Together they watched leaves and twigs float down the creek toward Puget Sound. The drizzle had stopped. The clear water eddied and swirled in places. At a slight bend in the creek, several small leaf-covered branches had bunched together. A yellowish foam gathered around the branches, adding froth to the leaves’ surfaces.

  “What’s the other thing you wanted to tell me?” Diego asked. “Is this the part where I’m not supposed to get mad or go do anything drastic?”

  “Yes. Although I didn’t just say drastic. I don’t want you to go do anything at all. Except listen.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Well, promise me again.”

  “I promise. I won’t do anything except listen. Just tell me.”

  Diego’s lips were parted, and his breathing increased slightly as he waited for Charlie to speak. In that moment Charlie wished he hadn’t decided to disclose anything. He knew Diego would get upset. Charlie was enjoying his friend’s companionship on the bench after their hike in the damp woods, away from school, and witchcraft, and worry. He didn’t want to ruin it. But it was too late. Diego was expecting something and wouldn’t leave Charlie alone until he knew. So he began to speak, marring the calm the way the rain had disturbed the surface of the creek only moments ago.

  Charlie told Diego what happened under the bleachers with Julio, Dave Giraldi, Randy, and the boy he didn’t recognize. He watched as Diego’s mouth went slack, how the caramel color of his skin paled to light beige, how the light in his dark brown eyes dimmed.

  He told Diego what they had said to him, how Julio had hit him in the head and the stomach, how they had threatened him with a knife.

  He expected Diego to become angry. He thought he would yell at Charlie for not telling him. He figured Diego would run off and call Principal Wang and Ms. Barry immediately, to hold meetings, to put together something he called a task force.

  What he didn’t expect was to see Diego’s troubled eyes start to glisten, to fill up with water until the tears spilled over the rims and ran down his cheeks in twin tracks, leaving droplets of moisture on his eyelashes.

  He didn’t expect Diego to put his head in his hands and whisper, more to himself than to Charlie, “Damn it. Damn it. I knew this would happen. Damn it …”

  He wasn’t crying so much as mumbling to himself as the tears flowed from his eyes.

  “Charlie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.”

  Charlie was dumbfounded. What was he sorry for? He hadn’t done anything. It was Julio and his gang who’d threatened him.

  “What do you mean, ‘sorry’?”

  “I got you into this. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t asked you about being gay, then maybe …”

  “Diego, that’s ridiculous. You didn’t make me gay or turn me into a homosexual!” Charlie said, hoping it would sound funny, hoping it would make Diego smile.

  “I know, I know! But I did rush you into coming out.”

  “No, you didn’t, you …”

  “Yes, I did! I came after you at the farmers market, I invited you to the party, told you I thought you were gay, all because I thought you were cute, and I was lonely and tired of not having a boyfriend, and you just showed up, so nice and handsome, and I wanted you. I wanted you to be my friend, my boyfriend, my, I don’t know what. I’ve been selfish and stupid, thinking that we could just parade around school, showing off in front of everybody.”

  He stood up. Protruding from the sleeves of his rain jacket, his fists were bunched so tightly that he squeezed all the blood from his hands, turning them nearly as white as Charlie’s.

  “Diego, no you haven’t been! Come on, I wanted to be your friend, I …”

  “That’s just it. You wanted to be my friend. I pushed for more, I flirted with you, I manipulated you, I …”

  “You did not!”

  “I did too! I knew what I was doing when you came over to my house that first time. I wasn’t being nice or friendly. I wanted you to come over to the bed, to take, to take off your clothes, and …”

  A choke stopped his words short. He shook his head and wiped his nose with the back of his hand as he looked out over the creek bed, all the while avoiding Charlie’s eyes.

  “I wanted you so badly, Charlie,” he whispered. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about kissing you, touching you. I thought this time it could work out, that maybe it wouldn’t be just another stupid crush that wouldn’t turn into anything, where I’d have to smile and pretend that I wasn’t totally in love with somebody yet again.”

  “Diego, it is working out. I mean, I know it’s maybe slower than you want, but …”

  Diego spun on him, the hood of his jacket slipping from his head, exposing his dark hair, the wild look on his face lit by the faint afternoon sun.

  “Working out?! Are you crazy, Charlie? You call this working out? You basically have to fend me off, and yet I still keep throwing myself at you. And now this? This crap Julio and Dave did to you …”

  His voice caught. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “If I hadn’t started this with you, you’d just be a quiet kid at school who everyone left alone. But no, loudmouth Diego had to pull you into all of his drama, and now …”

  Charlie hadn’t seen Diego like this before. He knew that beneath his friend’s confident demeanor was worry and fear, but he hadn’t seen the boy spin out like this, as if he were on an icy slope and, having lost his footing, was slipping and sliding toward a huge crash. Diego wasn’t listening to Charlie, didn’t hear how stupid he sounded. Charlie couldn’t stand how lost and off-base his friend was.

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” he yelled, standing up and facing the boy.

  Charlie hadn’t been sure why he had wanted to tell Diego about the incident beneath the bleachers. He knew it would upset him and hadn’t been sure it would be a good idea. Now, with a sudden burst of clarity, he knew why.

  “You know what? You are so wrong right now I can’t believe it. You not only didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do, you gave me a nice slap in the face and told me to stop hiding, to stop being afraid of everything all of the time. My mom is like th
at. Worried all the time, scared to do anything, afraid of people and what they might do to her. Afraid of her own shadow. I don’t want to be like that anymore, the scared shy kid. I’ll never be like you, so talkative and friendly with everybody all the time, but still. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t have to be.”

  He took a deep breath. Diego watched him, lips closed, eyes bright, a look of surprise on his face.

  “So quit telling me that you made me do anything. I did it, okay? It’s what I wanted. I wanted you. You just helped me see it.”

  Diego lunged for him, throwing his arms around Charlie and taking them both to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie grunted, barely able to talk as most of the wind was knocked out of him.

  Diego’s mouth found his. And he tried to talk, tried to laugh, even tried to cry as his lips pressed over Charlie’s.

  Charlie pulled his head back and looked up at the boy, whose face was cast in shadow from the bright gray sky above them, which had started to rain again.

  “I can’t understand what you’re saying. You’re …”

  Diego lifted his upper body away from Charlie.

  “I said …”

  “Ow! You’re crushing me!” Charlie yelled, as the boy’s full weight rested on his ribs.

  “Oh God, oh God, Charlie, sorry!” Diego said, putting his hands on either side of Charlie to distribute the weight.

  “I said …” the boy continued, looking into Charlie’s eyes.

  “I said this,” he whispered, then bent down and placed his full sweet lips over Charlie’s mouth.

  It was all Diego needed to say. Charlie could tell that the boy had calmed down, and he was so glad that he forgot for a moment about all the dangerous things happening around him and simply let himself be kissed, let himself want Diego without holding back.

  All the while the rain fell lightly on them, and the sun stayed hidden behind the clouds.

  CHAPTER 20

  Myths and Legends

  CHARLIE STEPPED INTO THE FOYER and closed the door behind him. He hung his wet jacket on the coatrack mounted on the wall, then took his boots off and placed them in the corner near the others.