The time he tried to kiss back, all he could feel was this huge alarm verging on terror. She was so fragrant and warm and soft and smooth. Her hair fell forward, glossy and twining around them, just like it was supposed to. As he kissed her, desperately, he scrunched his face up like he was taking medicine, as Jewels sat on his lap and smooched him. Because that’s what you do. She had seen Breaking Dawn about eleven billion times, and read all the books, and even though Beau wasn’t a vampire, she knew she had this. She kissed him correctly, like in the movies . . . then took his hand and planted it over her heart, right on her boob—
Beau’s eyes FLEW open and he JOLTED upright like he’d been cattle-prodded. His hand contracted involuntarily like a frog leg in biology class, and he accidently squashed her perfect, perky booby.
“Yow!” Jewels’s eyes flew open, too, as she nearly landed on the floor. That wasn’t in the script.
Beau became immediately even more horrified, if that were humanly possible. He held both hands up like a criminal. “Omg! I’m sorry!! Is your boob gonna be okay?!” It sounded so hilarious that she laughed, even though that wasn’t anywhere in the script either.
Okay, do-over.
So they kissed again. Just like in the movies. They kissed each other on the mouth, and on their throats and necks, and all over the damn place. They kissed and kissed and kissed....
And all Beau could think was, Omg, Jewels, I’m so sorry . . . She doesn’t know I’m a fraud. . . . She doesn’t know I’m a frog. Not a Prince, Jewels, which you deserve; I’m just a stupid frog.... So-so-sorry-so sorry-so sorry. The words became the rhythm of his heartbeat. They became loud, became all he could hear. He kissed her back frantically, thinking if he could just do it, everything would be okay . . . just make it happen . . .
Eventually, dejectedly, Jewels got up and left the room.
Nothing ever happened.
Beau stops talking. He doesn’t say anything for a little while, just sits there with his head kind of bowed. I don’t feel like I can say anything worth hearing, so we just sit.
“Told you,” he says after a while.
“Dude . . .” It’s all I got.
“I know. Sucks to be me. Till it got worse.”
It was springtime and school was cruising along—last semester, etc., when a new and crappy wrinkle developed. Beau’s mom, Gina, finally decided to go for it and started talking about moving to Seattle. Beau was not interested. Let her go have her stupid boyfriend somewhere else. He didn’t care.
But he was furious about it. He had gotten used to how they lived together, just the two of them; she was easygoing and had other interests, which rocked because she didn’t do that helicopter-mom thing he’d heard mentioned, which just sounded oppressive. But so did living with his dad.
This resulted in a lot of fights, Beau sullenly refusing to talk, refusing to go to a mediator, or even admitting that he didn’t want to go to Seattle, which confused them both. It also resulted in him yelling at her whenever she’d put her finger on what his problem was.
“Because you think it’d be somehow disloyal to your dad?” She stared at him with narrowed eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it?!”
“No, Mom!” he’d shout in a peeved way. “Jeez!”
“Why, then?” she’d wail back in massive exasperation, “Why-Why-Why?! Talk to me!”
“Just NEVER MIND!” he’d bellow. It was their pattern, and they practiced it. Because according to her, Seattle was going to happen.
Also during this time, this jerk named Stephan moved to town, and it was like the B-movie plot when a new guy comes to the prison and attacks someone so he won’t be the victim. Of course he fastened his sights on Beau. And this new guy soon got a crew at school of guys who were also jerks. So there was a new gang of fools to bother Beau, and he had kind of forgotten how bad that could be.
On more than one occasion when he was walking by himself, a multitude of guys would drive by—screeching as they roared past, the wind drawing it out, FAAAAAAAAGGGGG!!! This never failed to unnerve Beau, and that they enjoyed disproportionately. Life grew more complicated.
His relationship with Jewels also grew more complicated. She had been feeling a little down since her attempted seduction fail. She had not tried it again. They still hung out though. Doing things like reading magazines.
“Look at that girl. That’s what I want to look like.”
“No, Jewels . . . no, it’s not. That’s just crazy. You’re beautiful!”
“Nope. Not to people our age. I looked at this month’s Teen-y Cosmo, and I don’t have the right look, or the right body . . . not this summer, not next—not never—not for me, ever . . . noooo waaaaaayyy.”
“Those magazines are for dummies! With no sense of their own style! Screw Teen-y Cosmo!”
“Yeah, easy for you to say—Boy! Nobody is measuring your boob size!”
“Who cares?! Who cares about that crap?! Don’t listen to those . . . copycats! They’re idiots!”
“Hah! Right?! Who cares! Yeeeeeeee!”
“Exactly! It’s the truth, though, Jewels! Don’t listen to them.”
But she was listening to the copycats. And Beau felt guilty. But he didn’t want to tell her why.
Beau looks over at me. “I am going to cut to the chase. I promise I’ll tell you this some time in total detail, but right now I’m just wearing out.”
“Okay, dude, like I said, whatever you want to say is fine,” I tell him. “I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s cool. What happened is Jewels got so sad she started talking about wishing she was dead, and they got scared so they took her to a shrink. This happened over a bunch of months and so finally they asked me, as her boyfriend, if there was anything I knew that would have made her feel so bad . . . omg, Rusty . . . I totally said no. I was such a coward.”
“What happened?”
He answers me savagely, like he hates himself for it. “I let it go on, till one day when Pete busted out crying because he was so worried about her. He said she had gotten too sad to even get out of bed. Then I got depressed too.”
“Jeez. What a mess.” I grimace sympathetically.
“Right? I knew I had to tell everyone that I was gay soon, but I so didn’t want to.”
“So what did you do?”
Beau and Jewels were sitting in her room. They were supposed to see a counselor in a half hour, along with her parents, to help figure out why Jewels was so blue. Beau knew that was a waste of time. He had been sitting trying to tell her something for a little while as Jewels watched him. Barb called down they would be leaving in fifteen minutes.
And Beau knew in that instant that his life was about to change forever. He started to speak and stopped. A couple of times. Suddenly, he was blinded by silent tears.
He tried to get it out over the cacophony his heart was making—
“Gay,” he gasped.
It was all.
But it was enough.
He’d gotten it out.
And from Jewels . . . Silence. No response at all.
Eventually she spoke. “No way . . .”
He just shrugged, waiting for her. Watching her face.
She pondered.
“Since when?”
“Since forever.”
He could see her reflecting on their adventures together . . . adding it up.
She looked at him, her eyes round like an astonished goldfish. “Omg . . . you’re right.”
Then all the air he couldn’t find before came rushing into his lungs like bellows pumping, and he couldn’t stop explaining or shut up. Words poured out so fast it was hard to comprehend what he was saying.
“Omg, Jewels! I should have told you before; I was just so scared you wouldn’t like me anymore, and then I’d be SOL, again, and I just couldn’t face it! I’m so sorry! I was too afraid to lose you—Oh, Jewels! I am so sorry! It’s so not your fault! You’re not ugly, you’re gorgeous! You’re perfect—I’m gay! I haven’t told any
one! I haven’t told my mom!”
Then he abruptly ran out of air again and just sat there, slouched, yet on the edge of his seat.
Jewels had her meditating face on again. Finally she spoke.
“Yeah. That totally makes sense.” She was still sorting. “So, dude, so all those douche bags were right?” she asked.
Beau flinched. “Um, the ones who scream ‘FAG’ out their car windows? Erm, no.”
“Yeah, good point . . . good point. Wow. Just wow, Beau. Wow, wow, wow . . . I never thought about it, because they call everyone gay. Everyone calls everyone gay all day, at school. How could I guess that in your case they nailed it?”
“You’re the first person I’ve told,” he repeated. It was all he had.
Jewels nodded, and continued to muse. After a minute, she scowled and looked over at him.
“You could have done it sooner, Beau. You know what I’m like.”
“Jewels, I knew you’d be okay, but then you’d want to get a real boyfriend—which would probably result in me getting my ass kicked. Again: I’m a douche bag.”
Jewels just looked at him measuringly, and then shrugged slightly, and nodded.
“Sort of.”
“Dude!” Beau said, stung, “It’s hard! And scary! You don’t understand! Who else do you even know who’s gay?!”
Again, she just stared deeply into his eyes, considering.
“Good point.”
Beau’s face was extremely earnest. “Believe me, Jewels, if I’d known you were gonna get so down on yourself, I would have tried way harder to tell you a long time ago!”
“But Beau, you don’t understand either. You have no idea what you did. You let me think I was UGLY . . . don’t you get it? No—because you’re a guy. You can’t understand! You have no clue.”
“Which is true.” Beau looked over at me. “I didn’t.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing. After a little while, I left. We didn’t tell the counselor, not then.”
“No, I mean, when the others found out.”
“Yeah, more bad stuff. Pete was pissed.”
“Oh, no!”
“He never really got over it—not the being gay part, the letting Jewels take the charge part.”
They’d bumped into each other at the gas station accidentally, Pete and Beau, when they were both getting gas. It was such a small town it was bound to happen eventually. Beau hadn’t really spoken to Pete in person since his big admission to Jewels. They’d texted and seen each other online, but not IRL. He was just putting the gas cap back on when Pete pulled into the pump beside him.
“Hey, stranger.”
Beau looked up from what he was doing. He jumped. He could feel his ears start up.
“Hey!” He couldn’t believe how glad he was to see Pete.
Pete got out of the car slowly. He didn’t move toward Beau.
“How’s things?” He spoke almost hesitantly and shoved his hands in his pockets.
His tone was unmistakably weird.
Beau felt all the wind go out of his sails. He had been afraid of exactly this. He had never felt uncomfortable around Pete in all the time he’d known him. Till that moment.
“Good,” Beau replied, suddenly tongue-tied and sad. “How’s . . . um, everyone?”
“Jules is good,” Pete said unflinchingly. “She doesn’t need to see that shrink now.”
His tone and face were both reproachful and forbidding. Beau felt devastated.
“Pete, I’m so sorry, I—” Beau stopped. He didn’t have anything to say that would make what he did seem different.
“You don’t have to be, it turned out okay.”
“I was just too scared to mess things up.”
“Yeah, that’s what Jules said. She explained it to me. I dunno . . . I gotta say, Beau, I was hella pissed off. I still am. I don’t care if you’re gay, but it’s unbelievably messed up how you let Jewels take the charge. What if she’d gotten so sad she killed herself? Dude! Beau! You should have seen her. She was, like—unreachable, after a while! It was just so awful!” Pete started to get vehement and then controlled himself. The corners of his mouth jerked down against his will.
Beau hung his head. He wished he could just disappear into the molten core of the earth. He stood, feeling low-down and no-good, slumping and dejected. He could feel tears rising.
Pete looked around and then shrugged. He sighed.
“It’s okay, dude,” Pete said, his voice heavy. “I know you didn’t mean any of this . . . but I really can’t hang out anymore.”
Beau wished Pete had punched him in the gut. It would have hurt less. But he nodded.
Then Pete looked straight into his eyes.
“For now, anyway. It’s not forever, Beau. Who knows? Life is uncertain. Maybe we’ll all be tight again someday,” Pete said, trying to make it sound casual. “But for now I need to take a break.”
“Yeah, sure, of course,” Beau replied, tears making his voice tight. He, too, fought to control himself.
Pete saw his expression. He stopped what he was doing and came around to Beau finally. He put his arms around him in a huge bear hug. Beau returned the hug, choking on his woe as Pete squeezed him. And this time it was a punch to the heart.
Pete spoke into his ear.
“Love you, Buddy.”
“So yeah. That’s was kind of it for us.”
“Oh, no!”
“I know . . .” Beau’s expression is sad and blue. So are his eyes. “I totally miss them.”
“Oh, why?” I mourn, like I actually knew Pete. “How sad is that?!”
“Right? After that he unfriended me. Jewels too.”
“Oh, Beau . . .” I murmur.
I see Beau is hurt, and I feel so bad for him, though I also kind of feel that it’s not fair. “So, you’re the bad guy.”
“Oh, it gets worse. I’ll hurry before it gets too stupid to believe and wrap this up. So, of course it gets out around school, and it’s like a holiday for dickheads! They are so gunning for me. . . .”
And of course they caught him.
No matter how cunning and tricky and well prepared you are, if they are hunting you, well . . . you get caught.
Beau was walking along in broad daylight when four guys pulled up and jumped out of their car, leaving it running. “Hey, Fag! How’s things, Fag?” all faux-friendly. Beau started backing up to run, but of course they outnumbered him, as they will, every time, and everyone started pounding.
Beau included. All of his dad’s self-defense paranoia paid off, and he did okay. He figured he wouldn’t make it easy for them. He was enraged. But he was getting the worst of it, that’s for sure. When a police car pulled up short without warning, spinning sideways to block the getaway car, Beau thought it was a good thing. Two cops jumped out, guns drawn, and started screaming. The douche bags were too stupid to scatter effectively, and three were caught by the cops, while Beau sat up dizzily, gagged briefly, and spat blood.
They slammed them over the back of the cop car, including Beau. After everyone got frisked and questioned, the cops let the other guys go with a warning, and put Beau in the back of the patrol car. He was afraid he was going to juvie or something, but they said they just wanted to go for a ride, to talk and try to maybe straighten him out. They just wanted to talk.
“So what were you and your little friends doing back there?” asked the thickest cop, riding shotgun, as Beau sat slouched against the door in the backseat. He was dizzy, and his head was throbbing. One eye wasn’t seeing too well.
“They aren’t my friends,” he managed to spit out.
“Maybe they are,” said the driver, a buzz-headed cop, “maybe they’re doing you a solid.”
Beau looked at him in the rearview mirror. The cop’s eyes were like black zeroes boring in on him. He was more than your average cop, sworn to protect and serve—he was judge and jury too!
“Ya think?” asked the other cop, his straight man (so
to speak). He was wearing reflector sunglasses, like the Terminator. Except he was just a sidekick.
“Yeah, I think they were trying to save him from a life of being a little sissy.” Buzz-Head barked out that fraught word from Beau’s childhood. Beau’s nausea increased exponentially. He gagged and coughed. The cops exchanged meaningful glances. “See? Kinda makes everyone sick to think about—you acting that way—even you.”
“Yep. A lot of guys want other guys to man up when they see them acting all gay and eeewww.” Terminator flapped his wrists in the air, in a manner beloved by homophobes everywhere. “Eeewww!”he lisped viciously, pouncing up and down on his seat and thrashing like an ill-tempered emu.
Beau, already nauseated, looked at him without expression, but with inward confusion, as his thoughts raced and his aching gut throbbed. This sucks . . . this is what happens when bullies get older but never grow up. I thought cops were supposed to be fair. He always just supposed they were, anyway, in spite of the horrible stuff on TV and the news. He’d never actually dealt with cops before. But he had far more immediate worries.
“I feel really bad, you guys,” he gasped. “I think I’m gonna get sick!”
“Oh, for chrissake—don’t you dare! Dick—grab him before he pukes all over the back!” Buzz yelled. He tried to push Beau out, himself, while driving and remotely rolling down the back window, at the same time.
Dick, aka the Terminator aka Ol’ Spazzy Jazz Hands, turned and stuffed Beau halfway out the side window of the backseat—just as Beau hurled—and barf spewed everywhere—inside and out, spraying the back like a fire hose, also out the car door window, across “serve” and down the road, leaving a wake.
“EEEWWWWW!” screamed Terminator, this time in earnest, “GRROOOOOOSSS!” He let go of Beau and wiped his hands as Beau, half-conscious, hung out the car door window.
The Hurt Patrol Page 10