Brian and Carey
By Colin Sherman
Copyright © 2020 Colin Sherman
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 1
Carey Reid packed up his clarinet at the end of band practice and headed to his locker. Sharon, another clarinet player, walked with him.
“I thought I was never going to get that piece right,” she said.
“It is one of the most difficult pieces we’ve done.”
“I can’t imagine how hard the first clarinet part is. I don’t think I’ll ever make it past second.”
“If you practice a little more, you could move up next year,” Carey suggested.
She shrugged. “Maybe. I like being in band, but I don’t want to be a musician or anything. I’m okay where I am, I guess.”
“I want to major in music,” he told her. “Maybe I’ll be a band director like Mr. Daniels.”
“Well, you’re really good.”
“Thanks.” Carey smiled.
Sharon smiled back, then walked to her own locker down the hall.
Glancing past her, Carey saw his best friend, Brian, practically skipping toward him on his way from chorus practice. He quickly grabbed his backpack and jacket, ready to walk home with Brian.
“I saw you talking to Sharon.” Brian nudged him in the ribs. “What about?”
Carey shrugged. “Just band stuff.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you asked her out by the way she was grinning.”
“She’s nice. We’re just friends, though. So, what’s got you grinning and skipping around?”
“I got the solo. Well, I got a solo, not the solo. A senior usually gets the biggest one.”
“Let me guess, Robbie Crenshaw?”
“Of course,” Brian said. “He’ll probably get the spring concert men’s solo too. Next year, I’ll be the senior and get the good solo. I wonder what the music will be then.”
Carey laughed. “Why don’t you worry about getting through this year first.”
They left the school and began the half-mile walk home. Most days, Brian would stop at Carey’s house for a while before continuing on the extra block and a half to his own house.
Before they got far down the long sidewalk leading from the building, Carey spotted a group of boys on the corner. The boys nudged each other and laughed as Brian and Carey approached.
Brian had been going on excitedly about the winter concert and didn’t seem to notice David Messner and his buddies. Carey, though, could see that this day they wouldn’t avoid confrontation. He tried to steer Brian around them back toward the school.
“What are you doing?” Brian asked. “Oh.”
David and the other boys moved quickly toward Brian and Carey from the side. Carey braced for impact–because it always came, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the other boys, or how much space he attempted to put between them. David always managed to hit at least one of them.
“Watch out,” Carey warned.
This time it was Brian. David’s broad shoulder crashed hard into Brian’s considerably smaller one, sending his binders flying out of his arms. Just for good measure, David stuck his foot out in time to trip Brian, leaving him sprawled out on the grass.
Carey dropped his own books and backpack in a huff to help Brian. He dared not say anything to David and his two friends for fear of retaliation.
“Aw, did widdle Bwian get hurt?” David mocked.
“Jerk,” Brian muttered. Luckily the only thing hurt was his pride.
“Are you all right?” Carey asked quietly. He held his hand out and pulled Brian up, then the pair began to retrieve the binders and papers that had been strewn about.
The other three boys laughed as they walked away.
“Faggots!” one of them yelled.
Carey looked back at the boys and glared. He wished he had the nerve to stand up to them.
David, Austin and James were taller and more muscular than he and Brian. They all played football in autumn and baseball in the spring. Carey didn’t like to stereotype, but the boys seemed hell-bent on portraying themselves as typical jock bullies, picking on kids who were smaller.
But Brian wasn’t just smaller, he was a wisp of a thing. He had the lithe body of a dancer–an easy target for them. Sometimes, Carey wondered why he didn’t try to make himself less of a target.
One of the few openly gay boys at their school, Brian often dressed differently than most of the other boys. Carey could have sworn a few times he came to school in his sister’s clothing and jewelry.
On the outside, the pair of them seemed to be polar opposites. Carey dressed conservatively, usually jeans and a t-shirt, with sneakers. His sandy blond hair was kept neat and somewhat short. He had no earrings. And he most definitely never wore make-up.
“You know, maybe you shouldn’t wear that eyeliner stuff,” Carey said, picking up the last two sheets of notebook paper.
“What?”
“They pick on you because you wear make-up and girlish clothes sometimes,” Carey explained.
“You know why they pick on me,” Brian snatched the papers out of Carey’s hand.
“Yeah, I do. But you don’t need to go around giving them another excuse to do it. There are other kids in school who are gay that don’t get picked on as much as you.”
“So, I should let them decide how I should dress and whether or not I want to wear earrings? Or eyeliner. Why should I let them dictate how I look?”
“Why do you dress like that?”
Brian shrugged. “I’m an artist. This is how I express myself,” he said dramatically, flourishing his hands.
“I thought dancing was how you expressed yourself.”
“That, too. It’s all part of the theater. I thought you were cool with it,” Brian frowned.
“I am,” Carey hesitated. “But can’t you just blend in sometimes? Why do you always have to be so . . .”
“So, what?” Brian questioned.
“So . . . obvious.”
Brian’s shoulders slumped slightly at Carey’s hurtful words.
“You mean you want me to be less me?” He turned his back on his closest friend and began to walk away.
“Wait. Brian, that’s not what I meant.”
Brian continued to walk home, ignoring Carey’s pleas.
“Brian, wait up.” Carey picked up his books and began to follow, but Brian picked up his pace, clearly intending to walk without Carey.
Taking the hint, Carey slowed down and walked the rest of the way home alone.
◆◆◆
“I’m home, Mom,” Carey called as he tossed his book bag on the floor, and his textbook on the kitchen table.
“Not at the table.” His mom peeked around the corner from the living room. “Take your stuff to your room. I’m trying to keep this place neat for a change.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his stuff and trudged upstairs. He flung himself on his bed and thought about the argument with Brian.
It wasn’t so much an argument as it was him insulting Brian.
They’d been friends since Kindergarten. Brian had always been different from the other boys, even back then. Carey thought it was funny that he always picked pink or purple crayons, and he chose to play with the girls more often than not at recess. But Carey liked him because he wasn’t rough, like a lot of the other kids. They were ruthless at dodge ball and overly competitive at sports. Carey wasn’t much of an athlete, so he gravitated toward Brian, who wasn’t either.
Over the past eleven years, they had become best friends, finding much in common. Though in different ways, they both enjoyed music. Carey played several instruments and longed to be in a band when he left school. Brian loved to sing and dance. He joined as many choirs as he could and usually won a part in the school musical. As they grew older, their lives had begun to grow in different directions, however. Carey was content to be in the background, playing in the pit, while Brian was on stage lapping up the audience’s attention. Unfortunately, it also earned him the attention of the school bullies.
That was why Carey said what he said. He liked Brian just fine the way he was. But the more flamboyant Brian became, the more the bullies picked on him. They’d even bloodied him up a bit on occasion. Carey was only concerned for his friend’s safety. That was all he meant by it. But it sounded like he was just as bad as David Messner.
A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie.
“Carey?”
“Come in, Mom.”
“Everything okay? I thought Brian was coming over so you could work on that paper.”
Carey sat up. He had forgotten about the paper. “Oh, uh, something came up and he can’t come over. I guess I’ll work on it alone for a while,” he lied.
“You sure that’s all?” his mom prodded. “You looked a little upset when you came home. Did something happen?”
Carey looked at his mom. She always seemed to know stuff. She was usually pretty cool about anything he talked to her about. And she knew about Brian, but it didn’t seem to bother her.
“Mom, what makes someone gay?”
His mom laughed. “Oh, a little light conversation,” she joked. She sat down next to him. “What do you mean? How do they behave or what makes them that way in the first place?”
“I guess both. But mainly what makes them that way.”
His mom thought for a moment. “I suppose it’s just the way people are born. The way some people are born good at music. Or science. Like the way some people have patience and other people are rude and self-centered. I think there are so many things that go into who we are that nobody really knows why.”
His brow furrowed as he considered her words.
She smiled at him. “That didn’t help, did it? Are you having a problem with Brian?”
“No. I’m not. But some kids at school have been bullying him. They’ve even given him some cuts and scrapes. And he doesn’t do anything about it.”
“And what do you think he should do about it?”
“I told him he should stop acting so obvious. But he knew I meant acting so gay.” Carey lowered his head. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to say.
“I see.”
“Don’t say, ‘I see’ like I’m some sort of jerk. I only meant that if he didn’t bring so much attention to himself, David and those other kids would leave us alone.”
“Us? Are they picking on you too?” Her mother bear instincts were pricked up.
“No, not me specifically. Just when I’m with Brian. But they’ve started to call me names too.”
“Have you gone to the Principal or a teacher?”
“Brian doesn’t want to say anything. He thinks it’ll get worse. I don’t know what to do, Mom.” He looked up at her. “Brian is my best friend, but I don’t want to get beaten up for it.”
It was a delicate position to be in.
Without giving her time to make a suggestion, he continued. “Why do people care? What difference does it make to them if Brian likes boys?”
She put her arm around Carey. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I haven’t been very helpful, have I?”
Carey shrugged. She hadn’t, but he didn’t want to say that. “Maybe I should call him and apologize.”
“That would probably be a good start.” Carey’s mother got off the bed to leave him some privacy to make his phone call. “He’s really lucky to have a friend like you.” She smiled and closed the door as she left the room.
Yeah, some friend, he thought. I only asked him to change who he was to suit some bullies.
Brian was his usual forgiving self on the phone, accepting Carey’s apology immediately. The boys made plans to get together to work on their biology paper after dinner. It was already Thursday and neither of them wanted it lingering over their heads all weekend.
“Where are you going?” Carey’s dad asked.
“Up to my room to work on an English paper,” Carey answered.
“Hi Mr. Reid,” Brian called and waved. The pair ran up the steps to Carey’s room and closed the door.
Mr. Reid glanced at his wife on the chair across from him. “Jeannie, should they be in there alone, with the door closed?”
“Malcolm, what do you think is going to happen?”
His face reddened. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Then it shouldn’t matter. Michelle has her girlfriends over all the time with the door closed.”
“That’s different. None of her friends are–” he cut himself off.
“I trust Carey. Don’t you?”
“Of course.” Malcolm nodded and went back to reading his book.
◆◆◆
After an hour and a half of looking up information on the internet and citing resources, Brian and Carey were ready for a break.
“I think we’ve got enough to work on in class on tomorrow,” Brian said.
“Yeah, I just want to print this one article.” Carey clicked the mouse and closed the browser. “My mom made cookies. Want some?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Brian answered. “Can we eat them up here though?”
Carey shrugged, “I guess. Why?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to hang out downstairs.”
“Sure. I’ll go grab a plate. You get those papers out of the printer and staple them with the rest of the stuff.” Carey wondered if Brian was uncomfortable around his father, who seemed a little curt with him lately. Carey didn’t think it was his imagination that his father disapproved of Brian’s more recent habit of wearing earrings and make-up.
“Okay.”
Carey was loading up a plate with chocolate chip cookies when his mother came into the kitchen.
“Whoa, is all that just for you and Brian?”
“Too much?” he asked sheepishly. He put four cookies back on the platter. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she said, approving. “How is the paper coming along?”
“Great. We have all the research finished and we can work on it in class tomorrow.”
“And you two are okay about what happened earlier?”
“Yeah. It was stupid of me. He’s cool about it.”
Jeannie Reid smiled. “No milk?”
“Oh, how could I forget that?” He took out two glasses and poured one for each of them.
“Can I have a cookie?” Carey’s sister asked as she walked into the kitchen. At fourteen, Michelle was two years younger than him. They were both in high school, but in different buildings.
“Nope, they’re all mine,” Carey joked and covered the platter with his arm. Of course, Michelle didn’t take it that way.
“Mom,” she whined.
“Really? You’re really going to tell on me for that? Jeez.” He rolled his eyes and moved his arm. Carey picked up the plate and started to take it to his room. “Don’t drink that milk. I’m coming back down for it.”
Michelle mimicked him in a whiny voice.
“Jerk. I should drink
it anyway.”
Mrs. Reid sighed heavily. “Must you two always fight?”
◆◆◆
Carey and Brian sat side by side on the floor together playing video games and eating cookies. Mostly, it was Carey eating the cookies, though Brian did have two of the smaller ones.
It was funny to Carey that Brian enjoyed the bloody war games as much as the classics, like Super Smash. Brian enjoyed the drama and artistry of the theater, but when it came to video games, he took delight in shooting or impaling enemy soldiers. He added his own sound effects and occasionally ad-libbed lines for the dying. When he spoke in a British accent and made innuendos about the players having intimate relationships, Carey always laughed.
“Have you seen the ads for the new superhero movie coming out?” Brian asked. “The guy that plays the main character is hot.”
Carey shrugged. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before. But I watched a trailer.” Brian let go of his controller with one hand and fanned himself. “Hoo boy.”
“Hey, watch out,” Carey yelled. “You almost got killed.”
“Oops,” Brian chuckled. “You’ve got my back,” he said when Carey’s soldier prevented him from getting run through with a bayonet.
Carey glanced at him and smiled. “You bet.”
But it didn’t help when Brian held his hand up for a high-five. He hadn’t been able to get his hand back on the controller in time to move his player out of the way of an onslaught of bullets.
“Aw crap.” Brian set down his controller and looked around the room while Carey finished out his turn.
He smiled as he picked up a picture of the two of them from Halloween in fifth grade. They both dressed as zombies, with tattered clothing and their hair spiked up with green hair spray. Next to that was a photo of the two of them after the musical in ninth grade. Carey was in the pit and Brian was in the ensemble. There was another picture of them on the desk that Brian had never seen before. They appeared to be among some trees. He couldn’t even recall getting it taken. Neither one of them was looking at the camera, so he figured they must not have known anyone was taking their picture.
“Where did this come from? I don’t remember it.”
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