This certainly didn’t happen before last night.
“Hola.” I shuffle my feet.
“Did you talk to your sister last night?”
“No,” I answer. “I was too busy yakking all over my mom and getting grounded for the rest of the month. Have you seen Tabby?”
“Not yet,” he replies, shrugging on his uniform jacket. “But I have second period with her, so I’ll corner her then. I haven’t really thought about what I’m going to say to her when I do find her….”
“You’ll come up with something.” I try to sound encouraging despite the fact our lives practically hang in the balance.
Okay, Big Guy. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I could really use Your help at the moment. But here’s a question. Is it wrong of me to ask You to strike Tabby down with some kind of minor plague? I’m not talking leprosy or anything like that, but maybe laryngitis? Or herpes of the mouth? Anything that will keep her from talking would be awesome.
“Mike?”
“Huh?”
Chris has an eyebrow raised. “I lost you for a second.”
“Right.” I shake my head, dispelling thoughts of Tabby’s tongue covered in boils. “What were you saying?”
“I said we should probably get to class before we’re locked out two days in a row.”
“That’s probably for the best.” I turn to escape the smelly brick fortress, but he catches me by the elbow.
“Just one sec.”
Chris plants his lips firmly on mine, and my body goes rigid.
He breaks away from me, cheeks tinted pink and letting out a shuddered breath.
“Sorry,” he says, grinning. “I’ve just been thinking about that all night.”
“R-right,” I stammer, my face feeling white-hot. “We should get going.”
I almost break into a run as we cross the grassy patch and enter the school.
Lunch rolls around and I haven’t participated in a single moment of education today. How could I, when every molecule of my brain has been preoccupied with Chris? It was one thing for us to share a moment of drunken passion, but for him to just kiss me like that, so close to school was a reckless and childish decision.
And I hate myself for how much I enjoyed it.
I should be fretting over when the other shoe is going to fall and when Tabby is going to expose Chris and me.
I’m practically a vibrating pile of nerves by the time I make it to my seat at our usual table.
“Have you seen this?” Tanner holds his phone out to me, a video playing. I laugh along with Katie, who’s beside me, but I can’t even focus enough to comprehend what’s happening.
“That’s crazy!” Katie gushes, leaning into my shoulder to get a better view.
I’ve already stopped pretending to watch, eyes scanning the cafeteria in search of a certain dark-haired boy. But he’s not here. Which I hope means he found Tabby and is currently disposing of her body in the dumpsters along with last week’s milk.
“Are you seriously still watching that?” Jackie berates, plopping down on my right. “Give it a rest already, Tanner.”
“I can’t!” he replies, pulling the phone back.
“Hey!” Katie pouts. “It was still playing.”
“Get over it,” Jackie mutters, stirring her peas around.
She’s in a sour mood.
“Who spit in your grits?” Katie questions.
“Wow.” Jackie scoffs. “That was the most idiotically southern thing I’ve heard all morning.”
Tanner laughs, and Jackie cracks a smile, but Katie shuts down, her gaze dropping to the table.
“Aww, Katie, you know I’m just yanking your chain, right?”
“Whatever.” Katie rises from her seat, sliding her tray down to the other end of the table.
“Someone’s extra fragile this morning,” Jackie says through a mouthful of creamed corn.
“Hey.” Tanner’s opened his laptop, fingers dancing along the keys. “Has anyone seen Tabby? She’s usually humping my leg by this time of day.”
I freeze, ears perking up at the mention of my new nemesis.
“She’s sick,” Larry calls from the other side of the table. “Monica said she got strep.”
“Yeah right.” Taylor laughs beside him. “She’s probably contracted some terrible STD of the throat.”
Holy shit. You work fast, Big Guy.
My hands are shaking as I dig my phone out of my pocket, typing a message to Chris.
Tabby’s out sick today.11:55am
“That blows,” Tanner says, moping, “in more ways than one I suppose. She said she had something super juicy to tell me.”
Oh shit.
“Why doesn’t she just text you?” Jackie asks.
“She said it would be better in person,” he replies.
That bitch. She wants to milk this thing for all it’s worth. I can only hope Chris gets to her before she gets to Tanner. What would he do if he found out? I would like to think he’d have my back and tell Tabby to go fuck herself. Then again, could he really keep her from spreading it?
Would he do that for me?
“There you are, Myers.”
My head shoots up so fast that I definitely have whiplash.
“Sorry I’m late,” Chris says, sinking into the seat beside Tanner, across from me. “Had something I was trying to take care of.”
“That’s not vague at all,” says Tanner, eyeing Chris suspiciously.
“Leave him alone,” Jackie intervenes.
I want to hug her. My nose throbs as if to warn me against such a gesture.
“I’m only joshing you, Myers.” Tanner wraps an arm around Chris neck, jostling him playfully.
“Careful you two,” Jackie warns, “you don’t want someone to report you for ‘inappropriate behavior.’”
Tanner releases Chris with a laugh, his attention falling back to his laptop.
Chris makes eye contact with me and I can’t help the grin spreading my lips.
The table falls back into its usual cliques, leaving me to risk glances across to the boy I really want to kiss again.
“What are you doing tonight?” Chris asks in a hushed tone as I stack my books back into my locker.
“I’m under house arrest, remember?” I shut the door with a clang. Chris hovers so close to me, making it really tough to focus on anything.
“Damn,” he mumbles. “Even if it’s helping a good friend who’s in desperate need of help with his Theology homework?”
“You have an A in theology.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Oh.”
“Come on.” Chris smiles. “It’s worth a shot.”
“My parents would never go for it.”
“Not even if it’s to help the P.K.?” He raises an eyebrow.
I let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll ask.”
“Awesome!” His smile becomes even wider, if that’s possible.
“I’ll let you know what she says,” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Do I dare ask what we’ll actually be doing tonight?”
“It’s a surprise,” Chris responds. “But I’ll pick you up around seven!”
“Okay, that sounds go—”
“Mike!”
I turn to see Rosy tapping her foot at the end of the hall.
“Gotta go,” I tell him. “Might see you tonight?”
“Fingers crossed.” He gives me an awkward, over-the-shoulder-no-we’re-not-gay hug.
I linger for just a second too long.
“Come on, Mike!”
We break apart, and I turn to walk towards my impatient sister. She’s still tapping her foot when I reach her.
“What? You’re speaking with me now?”
She doesn’t respond, just huffs and lugs her violin case towards the door. I wave a final time to Chris, then follow her through the heavy metal doors into the inferno of a parking lot.
For someone who’s five-foot-two, Rosy can
really move. She is already to Mom’s Escalade before I can even clear the sidewalk.
I open the passenger door, relishing the air-conditioned interior. Mom pulls out of her parking spot, a frown dragging her features down.
“Buckle,” she orders.
I gladly comply as she accelerates onto the road, tires screeching. I suppose she’s still upset about her shower of shame last night. Her driving pattern does vary heavily based on her emotional state.
“Mom, are you okay?” I ask, holding onto the sissy bar as if it’s my lifeline.
“I don’t know Michael,” she replies, blinking a few times like she’s trying to keep from crying. “Would you be all right if you had to spend an hour of your night cleaning vomit out of your hair, worrying yourself into a tizzy over your child making an asinine decision that could have gotten him killed, and all the while thinking to yourself, ‘where did I go wrong?’”
I sit in stunned silence.
“You scared the ‘you know what’ out of me last night, Michael.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, a sinking sense of guilt settling in my stomach. “I really am, Mom.”
A tear rolls down her cheek and I want to cry too. “Just promise me you won’t ever do that to me again.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” She wipes the side of her face, checking her mascara in the mirror. After she’s satisfied, she flips the radio on, humming off tune to the painful Christian music.
I figure now is a good a time as ever to ask.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I know I’m rightfully grounded and all.” I try to sound nonchalant. “But Chris Myers asked me if could help him with his Geometry homework tonight.”
“Oh.”
She bites her bottom lip which I know means she’s thinking about it.
“I suppose he could come over to the house.”
“No!” I respond before quickly reigning myself in.
Think fast, Mike. Why can’t he come over?
“I-I mean, he’s, umm…”
“Mom,” Rosy interrupts, “you and Dad are supposed to take me shopping for new strings tonight. Remember? He told you about it on Saturday.”
“Oh darn,” Mom mutters. “I’m sorry, Rosy. I don’t remember that at all.”
“You never remember anything.” Rosy sighs, folding her arms.
Wait a second. Is she lying?
“I know, sweetie, I’m the worst,” Mom apologizes.
“Guess they’ll just have to study at Chris’s place,” Rosy offers.
“Is that all right, Michael?” Mom asks.
“O-oh, yeah it’s totally cool,” I reply. “I’ll just double check with Chris, but I’m sure it’s fine. He can probably even give me a ride home.”
“That’s so considerate,” Mom says. “He’s just such a nice young man.”
“Y-yeah.” I throw a glance over my shoulder to Rosy, but she’s looking at her phone. “He sure is.”
Mom turns the volume back up on the music, joining into a chorus of “Amazing Grace” that has us all wishing for The Rapture.
It’s a quarter to seven, and I’m doodling nervously between glances at my phone. Chris was ecstatic when I told him we were all set, and I’ve been obsessing over figuring out just what he has brewing for tonight.
A sharp rap on my door makes me jump.
“Who is it?” I call, setting aside my sketchbook.
“The freaking pope,” Rosy sasses, sticking her head in.
“Wow, you look great for your age.”
“Thank you.” She steps into my room, shutting the door behind her. “It’s from all the babies I kiss. I’m actually stealing their souls in exchange for eternal youth.” She takes a look around, finally settling into my desk chair.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Just wanted to come see my big brother,” she replies, spinning slowly in the chair. “See what you’re wearing on your date tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Rosy ceases her spinning. “I want to know what you’re wearing on your date with Chris.”
“M-my what?”
“Jesus, you’re slow.” She rolls her eyes. “I saw the two of you last night when I was walking over from Abby’s. You seemed pretty chummy….”
So, she did see us.
“What exactly did you see?”
“Fine. I’ll spell it out for you, lughead. I saw you and Chris playing tonsil hockey in his car. There, are you happy?”
“I-I can explain—”
“Dude, calm down.” Rosy stands up, crossing the room to sit next to me. “I mean, seriously, you look like a Chihuahua. You’re shaking so badly.”
She’s right. My teeth are chattering out of my skull.
“Here.” She takes my hands in hers. “Just breathe, Mike. In and out. In and out. That’s better.”
I exhale a third time and surprisingly, I do feel better.
“T-thanks,” I say, at a loss. “I’m sorry. I just…”
“Look.” Rosy still holds onto me. “So, you like to kiss boys. Well, so do I! Who knew we had so much in common?”
A broken sound come from my chest that I think was supposed to be a laugh.
“And, although I think you could do sooo much better than Myers,” she continues, “I wanted you to know I got your back.”
“You’re not going to tell Mom and Dad?”
“Hell no. It’s not my business to tell.” She shrugs, releasing my hands. “Besides, no way am I taking that bullet for you. If you want them to know you’re going to have to tell them yourself.”
I nod, wiping the moisture that’s been building in the corner of my eyes.
“Gross. Don’t get all weepy on me,” Rosy chides.
I try to give her a smile. “Thank you, Rosy.”
“Eh, don’t mention it.” She shoves me off the bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have parents to distract, and you need to get ready.”
“I am ready.”
“Oh Jesus, Mike.” Rosy scowls. “You poor thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.” She crosses to the door. “Just have fun.”
“Rosy?”
She turns. “Yeah?”
“Is this…?” The words get caught and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. “Am I wrong for wanting this?”
She pauses, looking down at the floor. “Everyone wants to be loved Mike. As far as right or wrong is concerned, I…I can’t answer that. That’s one you’re going to have to figure out for yourself.”
With that, she closes the door.
Traffic is hell as Chris and I ride up Roswell Road. I’ve been quiet this far into our drive, replaying Rosy’s conversation over and over. The relief of her knowing my secret was short-lived, but it has lightened my burden. Marginally.
She told me to figure it out, but do I really have to do it by myself? What I wouldn’t give for someone with a little insight. Someone who might be going through the same thing.
Like a pastor’s son. Who also happens to be gay and sitting right next to me.
Jesus, I’m an idiot.
“Chris?” I raise my voice over the music.
He reaches for the dial. “What’s up?”
“What if we’re wrong?”
He glances over at me. “I’m not following.”
“What if we’re wrong?” I say again. “About everything. I can’t get it out of my head. What if all those things your father said about us is right. That we’re some affront on God’s plan? What if we’re just weak and giving into temptation? Like drug addicts or something.”
Chris remains silent, so I keep going.
“Maybe something is wrong with my brain. Maybe it’s broken or something. Like, maybe, my mother dropped me. ‘Oops! Sorry, son. I guess you like boys now!’”
“Do you honestly believe that?” Chris asks.
On an exhale, I continu
e, “I…I don’t know what I believe right now.”
“Look, Mike, I can’t give you what you’re looking for. So, don’t start thinking I can.” His frown deepens like he’s thinking hard about something. “Listen, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my short time on this Earth, it’s that there are no definitive answers.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
“Fine. Here,” he says as he reaches out his hand, palm side up. “Give me your hand.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
I place mine in his and he wraps his fingers around.
“Now put your other hand here,” he says, tapping the side of his neck.
I do as I’m told, pressing slightly against his skin. I can feel his pulse, throbbing in a quick and steady rhythm.
“Do you feel that?” he asks me. “My heart is racing because I’m holding your hand. It doesn’t do that for anyone else. And that fact tells me what I need to know. My body was made to do this. Every cell within me reacts to your touch.
“I know it’s not much to go on.” He shrugs. “But it’s enough for me.”
I pull my hand away from his neck. My own pulse echoes in my ears. I’ve never thought of it like that.
“The world is so much bigger than you’ve been told, Mike.” Chris gives my hand a squeeze. “It’s only one perspective, one side of the story you’ve heard. And I know it’s difficult, but trust me on this. There’s so much more to experience.”
I nod, turning my gaze to the window.
Chris has been so honest with me. More honesty in one day than I’ve given in a lifetime.
“My sister knows,” I say. “She told me right before you picked me up.”
“And?”
“And that’s it. She thinks I can do better than you.”
Chris laughs, melting some of the tension in my gut. “I’d have to agree with her.”
“Shut up,” I say, a grin spreading across my lips.
“So, does this mean we’re dating?”
“Oh my God!” I pull my hand out of his. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Just drive!”
Chris smirks. “Maybe I could do better….”
“Yeah, right.”
Clark’s Cup teems with life as we step inside, and bodies huddle around tables and drape over furniture.
There Goes Sunday School Page 22