A Better Place Page 4
“Just drop it,” I said. “I can take care of myself. It’s not my dad. It was just some boys at school. It’s over with and I don’t want to talk about it.”
Stacey looked like she didn’t quite believe me, in any respect, but she accepted my story, at least for the moment. I felt bad lying to her, although it wasn’t completely a lie. Some of those bruises had come from the terrible trio, although most of them had come from my brother. Stacey quit bugging me about it and talked about the dance instead. I was relieved. Stacey put her brother’s clothes in a bag for me. A few minutes later I walked home.
No one was there when I arrived, luckily. I hid the bag of clothes where Jason wasn’t likely to find them and looked for something to eat. There was nothing. Well, that’s not quite true, but the mustard and mayonnaise I found in the refrigerator weren’t exactly what I wanted for supper, especially considering that the mayonnaise had green fuzz on it. There would be food at the dance. I’d wait.
I was really excited about going to the dance. I never got to do anything like that. I showered and made myself presentable long before it was time to go. I changed into the clothes I was borrowing from Stacey’s brother and left the house. I still had an hour or so to kill, but I was too excited to sit around the house. I also wanted to wear those clothes while I had a chance. They made me feel good. I felt like I wasn’t so poor when I wore them.
I walked to the town park and sat under the trees, dreaming about what it must be like to wear nice clothes all the time. Someday I would know. I was good in school. After I graduated, I’d get a job, and then maybe some day I could even go to college. Maybe I’d even have my own house. It would be a nice one, and I’d keep the yard mowed and trimmed and all the neighbors would be jealous because it looked so good.
The smile that had formed on my lips faded. I was dreaming. None of that would come true. I was pretty good at school work, but I’d never be able to afford college. Any job I could get would be minimum wage. It would take me forever to save up enough for college. Some kids parents actually paid for their tuition. They were lucky. I think if my mom had lived, then maybe she and dad might have sent me to college, but she was gone, and there was no way my dad would pay for anything.
I pushed the thoughts from my mind. Tonight, I would have fun. I wasn’t going to let myself think of depressing things. All that mattered was tonight. The future was yet to come. If I could be happy in the present, then that’s all that mattered. That was all life was after all, one present after another. The future never really came. By the time it got here, it was the present too. If I could manage to enjoy the present, I’d have it made.
I walked to Stacey’s house. She met me at the door. She was looking very pretty all dressed up. She took my arm and we walked side by side. I almost felt like she was my girlfriend. I nearly laughed at that. Stacey and I were close friends, and the thought of her as my girl was just plain funny.
We walked through the doors to the cafeteria. The whole room was filled with loud music and dancing lights. It was beautiful and wonderful. All the tables had been pushed back to create a large space for dancing. The dance was just getting started and no one was dancing yet.
“Let’s get something to eat,” said Stacey. I was starving. I was so hungry I was getting kind of shaky. There were soft drinks and potato chips and candy, and all of it was free. Stacey and I talked as we ate. I tried not to scarf down chips and candy like I was starving, but it was hard. I never got anything like that. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had candy. I’d never tasted anything so good in all my life. The soft drinks were good too. All we got with lunch at school was milk, and at home there was only water. I loved the way the soft drink bubbled on my tongue.
Some kids started dancing, but Stacey and I stayed by the food and ate and talked. I was already having a blast. For the first time in a long time I got to eat as much as I wanted. I sipped on my drink and watched the lights play across the ceiling and floor. I listened to the beat of the music and moved in time with it.
“It looks like you’re ready for a dance,” said Stacey. We walked out onto the floor and began dancing together. Stacey acted real crazy and made me laugh. I acted crazy too. Everyone danced around us and everyone was having such a good time. It sure beat sitting home doing nothing.
The next dance was a slow one. Stacey and I drew close together. I wrapped my arms around her. It was a little difficult because I was quite a bit shorter than her, but we managed. I saw some people looking at us, but Stacey ignored them. She didn’t care what anybody thought. She was having fun. So was I.
My eyes fell on Brendan Brewer. I didn’t even know he was there, but I felt someone looking at me. When I turned, he was watching me. He looked quickly away. I watched him as he danced with a beautiful girl. I didn’t know her name, but she was a cheerleader. Brendan could have any girl he wanted I’m sure. Brendan was handsome and strong. He was a stud.
As Stacey and I danced, I kept looking at him. He was everything I wanted to be. He had it all; looks, height, money, popularity. His life must have been a dream.
I had to keep looking away because Brendan kept looking at me. He probably thought I was some kind of freak or something for looking at him. He didn’t act like he thought that, however. He had a slight smile on his face. He seemed friendly. I started having some warm and fuzzy thoughts about Brendan. Before I knew what I was doing, I was dreaming that I was dancing with him, my head on his shoulder.
I frowned. I felt a little sick to my stomach. Maybe it was all the junk I’d been eating. Maybe it was the images that were entering my mind unbidden. My old sickness was back, trying to ruin my evening. Why couldn’t I just be normal? Why couldn’t I get those unnatural, disgusting thoughts out of my head? I had enough problems to deal with, without thinking perverted and disgusting things about other boys. I was sick, sick in the head.
Brendan
I was slow dancing with Sara Davidson when my eyes fell on Casper. I hadn’t been able to get him out of my mind for a moment. There was something about that boy that just drew me to him. He was so beautiful he made my heart flutter in my chest. I was surrounded by guys that were a lot better built than Casper, but, to me, he had them all beat. I think his shyness and modesty added a lot to his physical appeal. When I looked at him, I could somehow feel what was inside him, at least partially.
Casper was dancing with his friend Stacey. He was holding her real close. I wondered if maybe they were more than just friends. That possibility disturbed me. What if he wasn’t even interested in guys? I knew that most guys weren’t, but something told me that Casper was a gay boy just like me. What if I was wrong? The possibility that he might be straight made me more fearful than ever about approaching him.
Straight, I hated that word. If heterosexuals were straight, then what did that make me? Bent? Crooked? It made it sound like being gay was some kind of deviation. I didn’t like that. I wasn’t a deviant. I just liked boys.
I tried not to be too obvious, but it was hard keeping my eyes off Casper. I wanted him. I needed him. I’d been alone with my “gayness” for too long. I needed someone flesh and blood to share it with. I longed to take Casper in my arms and kiss him. I’d just stand there holding him, kissing him forever.
“What? Oh, sorry Sara, what did you say?”
“I said you seemed distracted. I guess I was right.”
“Oh yeah, I guess I am a little. I was just thinking about our game against
the Buccaneers next week.” I lied. “They are a tough team.”
“Don’t you think about anything besides football?” asked Sara.
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“Oh yeah, I think about a lot of things,” I said, stealing yet another glance of the boy of my dreams.
* * * Sara and I sat in the back of my parked convertible necking. I made out with a lot of girls. At first, I thought that was kind of odd. I was gay after all, but making out with a girl could still be hot. The first few times
I did it, I even began to wonder if maybe I wasn’t bisexual. That would have certainly had its advantages. It would’ve doubled my chances of getting some action. I knew I wasn’t bi, however. I enjoyed the kissing, the entwining tongues, but that was as far as it went. When I thought about taking things further, I got a kind of sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was something definitely un-sexy about girls. The thought of pulling a girl’s top off filled me with revulsion.
Sara’s hands started wandering. It made me nervous. If she touched me in the wrong place she’d find out something I didn’t want her to know. It was sexy kissing her, but I wasn’t excited. There was nothing happening in my jeans. There would have been something happening down there if I was a straight boy. If Sara groped me, she’d know something was wrong. I tried to think up something I could tell her to explain it if she did. Maybe I could tell her I was on some kind of medication or something? Or maybe I’d just say I was all stressed out about something. I’d heard that could cause impotence.
I got off lucky, however, Sara didn’t touch me there. Instead, her hands wandered over my shoulders, chest, and arms. It felt kind of good, really. She worked her hands up under my shirt and felt my naked skin. Her touch felt good. I closed my eyes and imagined she was a boy. For a few moments the fantasy held, and I felt myself getting excited. Her breasts brushed against me and that was the end of that. We made out for a few minutes more, then I make up an excuse about having to be home soon. I didn’t want to take any chances. I was afraid that Sara wouldn’t be happy with a little necking. I was afraid she’d want more.
It was kind of funny, really. I feared the very thing most boys dreamed about. I couldn’t think of a single straight boy that wouldn’t have drooled over the prospect of getting some action with Sara Davidson, and there I was making up excuses to make sure nothing happened between us. It seemed kind of crazy. Then again, if I was in the back seat with a boy instead of a girl, I’d have stayed right where I was as long as I could manage. Yeah, that would be it. That was my dream, making out with a cute boy in the back of my convertible. If I got the chance to do that, there would sure be no excuses about why I had to go home. I’d have defied any curfew for some action with a cute guy.
Casper
I held Stacey close as we danced the last of the slow dances. It had been a wonderful night. I felt like I was somebody. I felt like people weren’t looking down on me for the first time in my life. I loved feeling like I belonged, instead of like some outsider who wasn’t good enough to be there. The dance was near its end, however, and soon I’d turn back into a pumpkin.
Brendan Brewer kept looking at me. I could tell he was trying hard not to look like he was looking, but he was definitely looking. I thought that maybe he was just surprised to see me not looking like a beggar for once, but somehow I knew that wasn’t it. He seemed pleasant enough, but I wondered if maybe he guessed the things that were running through my mind. I shivered to think that anyone else might even suspect I had such thoughts. They were disgusting and perverted. I pushed it out of my mind. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Why would he be smiling at me if he thought I was some kind of pervert?
I was still a little frightened. I hoped that Brendan wouldn’t come looking for me after the dance to beat me up. I planned on sticking close to Stacey just in case. It’s not that I expected her to protect me, that would have been embarrassing, it’s just that I thought it less likely that I’d get attacked if she was there.
The dance ended and Stacey and I each grabbed one last soda and a bit more candy. I was so stuffed that I couldn’t even eat it. That was a new feeling for me. I stuffed it in my pocket for later. I’d have to find a good hiding place when I got home or Jason would take it from me. I could just hear him gloating “Like taking candy from a baby.”
Stacey and I walked back to her house. I breathed a sigh of relief. Brendan Brewer didn’t try to slug me. Maybe being with Stacey kept him off, or maybe he’d just never intended to come after me. He probably didn’t. I was being stu
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pid. Like he could really tell what I was thinking by looking at me. Where did I get a dumb ass idea like that? Stacey left me alone for a few minutes to change clothes. I was glad. I was really uncomfortable with her standing there while I was changing at the beginning of the evening. I didn’t like anyone to see me without clothes. I was too short, too scrawny. I didn’t want any more questions about my bruises either.
I talked with Stacey for a little bit and then left for home. When I got there, the lights were on in my bedroom. I crept up and peeked through the window. Jason was already home. He had his shirt off and was standing in front of the mirror flexing his muscles. I watched him for a little bit. He looked pretty silly standing there admiring himself, although he did have a pretty nice build. I wished he didn’t. He used those muscles to hurt me.
Jason pulled down his shorts and boxers. He stood in front of the mirror naked, still flexing, still admiring himself. He reached down and groped himself, making himself hard. I backed away from the window. I had to go somewhere. It wasn’t a good time to be at home. I was afraid of what might happen. I stashed my candy under the porch and walked down the sidewalk.
The moon was full and bright, making it seem almost like daylight. The stars looked so close I felt like I could reach up and grab one. I walked a lot at night. I loved to walk under the stars. Most of my walks weren’t for enjoyment, however, even though I did enjoy them. Mostly I walked when it wasn’t safe to be home with my dad or brother. Sometimes when Dad was drunk he could get real mean and it was best not to be around him. Sometimes Jason was about the same. And then there were those times when Jason got that look in his eyes, the look that made me draw back in revulsion. I’d seen that look as he gazed at himself in the mirror. I was afraid of what would’ve happened had I gone inside. I always checked out the situation before entering the house. I’d learned long ago not to take any chances. If things didn’t look good, I just didn’t go in.
My mind drifted back to the thoughts I had about Brendan at the dance. I didn’t really want to think about it, but if I didn’t, it would just keep coming back at me. I liked to get unpleasant things out of the way as soon as possible, just like I liked to save good stuff for later. Anticipation could be either a good or bad thing, depending on what was being anticipated. This time the anticipation was unpleasant, so I wanted to get to it and get it over with.
Ever since grade school, the other boys had made fun of me and called me names. I was one of those boys that always got picked on and was always picked last for teams. Even back in grade school the other boys called me sissy and queer. I knew I wasn’t a sissy. Sissies were afraid and weak. I was afraid a lot of the time, but I wasn’t afraid to do stuff, like learn how to roller skate or play football in gym. Then again, maybe I was a sissy, because I was afraid a lot of the time. I was afraid every day. I was afraid someone would call me names, which they always did. I was afraid I’d get picked on and hit, which happened almost every day. I was afraid of my dad when he got mean, and my brother. Maybe I was a sissy for that, but was it really my fault?
The other name bothered me more—queer. For a long time I didn’t even know what that meant. I’d figured it out, however. The dictionary said it meant “a strange person, someone different from normal.” I knew that queer meant a lot more than that, however. It meant pervert. It meant boys that did stuff with other boys, or at least wanted to do stuff with them.
For a long time, I didn’t think that name applied to me, but then things began to change. I’m not sure when they began to change, but now that I looked back; I could see that the change had taken place. I felt it when I was in the locker room or showers with the other boys—sometimes looking at them made me breathe funny. Sometimes it made me feel funny. Sometimes it made me get hard, like my brother when he had that look in his eyes. Sometimes I just couldn’t keep from looking at the other boys, even though I knew it was wrong, even though I knew it
was queer.
A tear rolled down my cheek, followed quickly by another. It was painful to think the thoughts I was thinking. It hurt. I didn’t want to think about it, but I wanted to get it over. I cried more as I openly admitted to myself that I was queer. I’d been trying to hide it from myself, but no one could really do that, not for long anyway.
I think I know what made me queer. I think I know what did it, or rather who did it—my brother. I hated him. He’s the one that did it to me. He’s the one that made me queer. I shivered. My train of thought had become far too painful. I shifted it.
“Okay, so I’m queer,” I thought to myself. “Now how do I get rid of it? How do I cure myself, make myself unqueer?”
I decided that the first thing I needed to do was not look around in the showers and locker room. I mean, why was I doing that anyway? It was disgusting. It wasn’t like I really wanted to do anything with any of those other boys. I’d never do that stuff. It was too gross, thinking about it just about made me sick. So there was no reason to be looking. So I wouldn’t look.
There were times when images came into my mind, images that disturbed me. That was something else I had to work on. When those thoughts entered my head, I just had to force them out and think of other things. I didn’t want those thoughts, they were bad, and so I’d just keep myself from thinking them.
And then there was the thing I did when I was alone. The thing I’d caught my brother doing. The thing he was starting to do as I looked through the window. The unwanted thoughts and images that invaded my head were the worst when I was doing that. I was disgusted with myself for touching myself there. It was gross. It was something my brother would do. It was a bad habit that I had to quit. I was sure it was a big part of what was making me queer. It had to go.
I was feeling a little better about myself. Yeah, I could handle this. I could get rid of my queerness. I thought about Brendan, and the way he made me feel. Most of what I felt when I looked at him didn’t seem so bad, but then again other things that I thought were worse than bad. Maybe it would be best if I didn’t look at Brendan either, at least not until I got the whole queer thing under control. There was no real reason to be looking at him anyway. I mean, it’s not like we’d ever be friends. He was a jock, he was popular, and he was captain of the football team. I was nothing. He’d spoken to me, but all he’d done was ask me to pass the salt. That was nothing. I was nothing.