Chance nodded in resignation. “I needed you, Mum, you know that.”
“I know.”
“Okay, I accept your apology,” he said, heaving a breath. “Can we start over, then?” Chance needed to tell someone what had happened; with new ground being broken between him and his mum, he decided it would be her.
She quivered a smile. “We can.”
He nodded again.
Mum went and got the pie, returning moments later. “Starting with this pie, of course,” Chance said as he tucked into his slice without hesitation; it was delicious, as always.
“Sure thing.”
After a long, silent moment, this time because they both enjoyed the baked marvel together, scraping their plates and licking their forks clean, she said, “I made this because Mr. Singh has been giving me extra shifts when he didn’t have to.”
“I know we can’t afford much, but the house is ours. We don’t have to pay any mortgage, just the bills and food. I don’t need much, I told you that. You shouldn’t have to do any extra work, Mum.” Chance then wanted to add that he would rather spend the time with her without getting the feeling she was avoiding him, as that was more important than money.
Like how they were spending time together now.
But he didn’t because what his mum said next took the words from his lips. “I accepted those shifts, because I bought you a car.”
“What?”
“I bought you a car, honey. We pick it up next week.”
Chance crashed her into a hug. “Oh, Mum! That’s wonderful! Thank you. Thank you. So…so you weren’t avoiding me by sneaking out of the house early over these past few weeks?”
“Why would I avoid you? I love you.”
Chance loved hearing that. He felt so much better. “I love you, too. And never leave me without telling me again, okay? I need you more than you know.”
“I won’t.” She parted from their embrace. “Now, tell me what happened to you.”
Chance sighed. “I committed the cardinal gay boy sin, Mum. I let a straight boy kiss me. Then, as soon as it was about to get heavier, he bailed. Using the excuse to answer his phone or whatever. Okay, it was ringing, but who the heck answers their phone in the middle of a kiss if they’re serious about someone, Mum? I feel so used. But thankfully, I told him to bring me home before he had the chance to do anything else. That, I so don’t need right now. Not after the last time.”
“With Liam, you mean?”
“Yeah. I don’t want history to repeat, and certainly not with a straight boy, that’s for sure.” Chance wiped his eyes again. Happy tears now flowed because of what his mum did for him. Sad ones, too, for obvious reasons. “I mean, Brody came out of nowhere two days ago. Then, today after school, he made me drive him to Lake Forest and kissed me. You know the rest ‘cause my tears are all over my pillow as evidence of how much of a loser I am.”
“Brody, as in, Brody Simpson, Brody?”
“Yeah. Him.”
Mum coughed into her hand. “I know his grandparents.”
“Then you’ll know he’s just like any other straight boy, but one who wants to experiment on me.”
“He’s gay, honey.”
Those three words could have blown Chance clear across the loungeroom if he wasn’t holding his mum’s hand. “What?”
“He’s gay. And from what I know, he thinks a lot of you.”
Chance blinked. “What?”
“I think he’s genuine. His grandmother told me he’s been all excited after how he’s been lately because of his—” She cut herself off, her face tightening.
“Um…what’s the rest of that sentence, Mum?”
“Nothing. I can’t say. That’s for you and him to sort out, not for me to influence.”
“How can you do that? You can’t say something like that, then not tell me the rest of it.”
“I can and have.” She opened her arms to him. “Now give me another hug.”
“Fine. But you so owe me more pie now.”
“I’m glad you accept the terms of my surrender.”
Chance couldn’t help it; he laughed—the first time he’d done so since that morning when Brody taught him how to kick a football. It was such a relief to him. Again, he became a little overwhelmed, more so as some of the enigma that was Brody was being unravelled.
“Looks like I’m messaging a certain hunky gay boy that might really have feelings for me, then.”
“Looks like you are.”
Chance picked up his phone. He had gone to bed, mainly because he didn’t want his mum knowing what he was going to say to Brody. The reason why was simple: he wasn’t too sure himself.
Hey, Brody. I think I owe you an explanation.
No answer.
Chance typed another message to clarify the first: Anyway, I’m sorry. Can we start over?
Still no answer.
Chance began to worry. I just wanted to also say that I was scared of being rejected by you because I thought you were just another straight boy playing me. It wasn’t your fault, it was mine. You also have to know, I gave Liam my heart and he stomped on it when he wanted things to get serious between us and I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want a repeat of that.
He swallowed; he was pouring out his emotions now, both on screen and through tears that flowed even more than they had this afternoon. Talking like that about Liam to someone other than his mum, even if in messages, was opening old wounds.
Wounds Chance feared getting re-opened.
He continued. Liam then left to go to Estonia without so much as a goodbye. He hasn’t spoken to me since. I hope you can understand how I felt when you suddenly stopped kissing me. I don’t want to be rejected again, like I was with Liam. That’s why I’ve been so careful and distant. Look, I’m really, really sorry. Please, Brody. Talk to me. I can’t take it if you reject me, too.
The three dots popped up, indicating Brody was typing. Hope kindled inside Chance, until he read what Brody had typed. Like you rejected me today, even after I explained myself?
Chance’s stomach knotted painfully. He knew exactly how Brody felt. I’m sorry. Can I meet up with you tomorrow morning before school so we can talk face to face?
No answer again.
Minutes passed. Then an anxious half an hour went by. Still no message.
That was it, then. It was over between them before it really even began.
He couldn’t blame Brody, really. But Chance’s insides sank. He felt absolutely terrible.
Chance was about to put his phone onto charge, looking forward to tucking into bed and hiding in his doona until morning, hoping things could be patched up between them some time in the future, when his phone bleeped.
The message Brody sent stunned Chance, so much so he had to read it a few times, his stomach tightening into more painful knots each time.
I have always had feelings for you, Chance, it began. I have for months, even though I didn’t reveal that to you until a couple of days ago. For that I’m sorry. I suffer from anxiety so bad I sometimes can’t function. Lately, I haven’t been able to cope too well with everything going on, being the new captain of the team, the start of football season on Sunday, and trying to break down your walls so that you’d even notice me.
Chance didn’t like how he behaved earlier, and in hindsight should have given Brody the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t even say goodbye to Brody after he’d dropped him home. That wasn’t good.
Brody’s text continued, When I finally did pluck up the courage to talk to you without needing to throw up, it was you who proved you didn’t want me. Not the other way around. Therefore, I don’t think we have anything more to talk about, face to face or otherwise. Do you?
Chance didn’t know how to answer Brody’s message without it sounding misleading, because the boy’s affection had confused him, if he was being honest with himself.
He didn’t reply.
All the damage he could do was done.
B
rody was right; Chance had built up walls around him because of what had happened with Liam. And yes, perhaps needing to answer the phone during the heat of their kiss was all part of Brody’s anxiety—the football theme tune telling him it was his coach calling.
But at the same time, Chance had every right to his feelings, as well.
He sighed, sinking deeper into his bed. Tomorrow was going to be crap.
The next morning—a warm one already with a brilliant blue sky and a slight breeze—Chance watched as the Preston Tigers left the football oval after their practice, slapping each other’s backs and buttocks as they went.
Brody wasn’t among them.
One boy, Chance couldn’t remember his name—if he ever knew it to begin with—came up to him. He was a good-looking redhead, but his most prominent feature right now was the fact he was covered in sweat, dirt, and grass stains all over his uniform and long, lovely legs. “Heya, Chance. Good to see you here. How’s it hangin’?”
“Um, hi there. It’s okay.” Chance glanced down to his groin. “I think.”
“That wasn’t a literal question about the state of your dick, dude. Just a greeting.” He laughed while rolling his eyes; that was cute, in a strange sort of way. “And my name’s Stewart.”
Chance wasn’t sure what to reply to that. Should he laugh as well? He’d never been so close to another football jock other than Brody, let alone engaged in a conversation with one. This was new territory for him.
He decided to get on with the reason he was here. “Say…Stewart. Where’s Brody?”
“He’s not here today.” Stewart looked around, then leaned in towards Chance, to add quietly, “But if you ask me, he’s probably chucked a sickie and decided to go down to the beach to check out all those hot guys there. That’ll sure relieve some of that anxiety he gets. He was upset about something last night. Really upset. Like punching the walls upset. I’ve never seen him so stressed out.”
Chance felt terrible, his insides tightening as much as his stomach did on a regular basis lately. He was the cause of Brody’s absence at practice and the added anxiety for him.
Again, Chance decided to keep the conversation on track. “He’s really gay, then?”
“Yep, sure is. As gay as a drunken unicorn, that boy. And he’s so into you, Chance, it’s sickening. I mean, that’s why we’ve all been laughing at him in class. It’s hilarious watching him go all puppy-dog-in-love over you.”
“He’s…what? In love with me?”
Chance knew Brody had feelings for him, he’d said so in his text. But love? That was a different ball game right there, for sure.
“So bad. I mean, you should hear him talk about you. Okay, I wouldn’t want another dude sucking my dick or pounding my arsehole, but man, the way Brody talks about it and all the other things he wants to do with you…you’re one lucky so-and-so, if you ask me. He’ll treat you like a prince, one that’ll be satisfied more than anything, there’s no lie.”
Okay, Chance couldn’t feel any worse now. His heart pounded out an irregular rhythm and he got all sweaty again. But not sweaty from being close to Brody; this was remorse sweat. Pure and simple. “Thanks, Stewart.”
“Hey, don’t mention it. Say, you should come watch us play this Sunday. You’ll have the box seat if Brody has his way.”
“I don’t believe I’d be welcome.”
“Sure, you would. And don’t mind jerks like Prescott. He’s probably banging every boy behind the equipment shed willing to take his tiny limp dick. Most homophobes are gayer than anyone else, am I right?”
“I wasn’t referring to Prescott.”
“Right. Well, whatever. Hope to see you around more, dude.” And with that, Stewart trotted off to the changerooms, the rest of his teammates welcoming him when he joined them.
Chance was left alone on the oval.
For the first time since Liam left a year ago, he didn’t like that feeling. He needed someone next to him, preferably holding his hand.
Someone like Brody.
If only he could make things right between them. Unless it was already too late.
For the rest of the school day, Chance felt empty and remorseful. He was lonelier than ever, even if the seats next to him were now filled with the guys from the Preston Tigers, Stewart asking if they could join him.
“Yeah, sure,” Chance stammered, unable to believe they’d want to be associated with him, let alone be near him. “I can’t exactly stop you from sitting wherever you want, can I?”
They all laughed, but Stewart said, “I told you he was funny as hell, didn’t I?”
Chance soon found out that the boys of the senior football team were awesome: laughing and joking around with each other. But the one thing Chance noticed above all else was how they supported one another.
One boy, all curly-hair and handsome in a rough and ready kind of way, said, “I mean, if I sucked and took dick, then Brody’s wouldn’t be the worst to deal with, that’s no lie.”
“You’ve seen Brody’s dick?” Chance asked naïvely.
Stewart chuckled. “You’ve never been in a footy changeroom, have you, Chance?”
“No.”
“Well, put it this way,” Stewart began. “Those boys who are gay get plenty of eye candy to admire, that’s for sure. And for a cock, Brody’s is one of the better looking ones, there’s the truth for you.”
Chance was taken aback. “And the straight boys don’t mind?” He was thinking of Prescott—that boy would have minded, he was certain.
“Those of us who are mates don’t care. We’re a team, and as such we support each other. Including our mate’s partners, whether they’re guys or girls or whatever.”
“Which is why we’ll support you, Chance,” a blond-haired boy interjected.
“Wait…what? You guys…you think I’m Brody’s boyfriend?”
Stewart patted Chance on the shoulder. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m…not sure.”
Just then, Ms. Hamdi entered the classroom. Her dress was of the palest colours, as if the material had been kissed by the moon. She looked beautiful, as always. “How did we all do with yesterday’s homework?” She scanned the room, her gaze settling on Chance. “Tell me about what aspect of Ancient Greek culture you decided to study, Chance.”
Everyone looked at him.
Why had she asked him first? She never did that before. Was it because of the football boys sitting next to him, drawing attention his way? “Um…I…er, I decided to study the Battle of Leuctra. It was between the Spartans and the army of Thebes. I want to…I want to explore how the Sacred Band helped turn the tide of the battle that ended up in defeat for the previously unbeaten Spartans.”
“Who were the Sacred Band?” Stewart asked, curiosity drawn on his face.
“That is an interesting question, Stewart,” Ms. Hamdi said. “I also like where you’re going with your research, Chance. Great work.” She gave Chance a nod. He liked that. “Now, can anyone else answer Stewart?”
A girl with a pretty ponytail and sitting in the front row, put up her hand. “The Sacred Band were a group of homosexual men who swore to defend their lovers to the death. The theory being they would be formidable warriors because they fought with their partners and protected them.”
“That’s correct, Susan. Well done.” She scanned the room again. “Now, what are you researching for your assignment, Rachel?”
It went on like that, everyone getting their turn.
Stewart’s proposed assignment was about the first Olympic Games; being a football jock, that didn’t surprise Chance. “The Olympic Games lasted only a day back then, and the athletes had to be naked while they competed,” he explained.
Everyone nodded their approval, including Chance.
Stewart went on to add, “The athletes also needed to have their foreskins tied closed with a cord known as a kynodesmē, because revealing the head of the penis was considered dishonourable and shameful while in public in thos
e days.”
“It sounds like you’ve got an interesting topic of research there, Stewart. That’s good, and well done, too.”
“Wouldn’t that hurt, havin’ your fore-y tied closed?” a football boy with raven black hair and smouldering good looks, even if he had a few zits, asked.
The blond-haired boy laughed. “You’re uncut, Simon. Try it and find out. Then you can tell the rest of us for real.”
“Better than being a knob head, like you, Jacob,” Simon said, also laughing.
There were then snickers from the rest of the class.
“Settle down, everyone,” Ms. Hamdi interjected, her hand raised. “This isn’t a locker room, but a classroom.”
Everyone settled.
Even though Chance liked history with her, he wanted to see Brody, if only to try and make amends with him. Plus, it would be nice to talk to him about their assignments, break the ice as it were.
His opportunity to do so never came.
6
Brody didn’t attend school the next day. Or even the rest of the week, for that matter. Chance felt awful to the point of being ill, especially during classes when Brody’s presence was missed the most. He hadn’t eaten much, either. Not even when his mum offered him home cooked baked goods.
“He’s not even replying to my messages, Mum,” he said, picking around the plate with his fork of her latest creation—an apple turnover.
“Give him time, honey. If he really does love you, as you have been told by his friends, he’ll come around.”
“What are you basing that on?”
“Hope.”
Chance got up and hugged his mum. “Thank you. I’m glad someone still has that left in them, because I sure don’t.”
“You’ll have it back soon, too. I know it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Let’s call it motherly instincts, shall we?”
Chance hugged her tighter, and she returned it in kind. It felt really, really good to have her back to her normal working hours so he could see her more often, no longer living with the fear that she was avoiding him.
Between the Blue Sky and You Page 4
