The Body

by RJ Martin

  “Morning Mass,” I said as low as I could and still be heard. The thing I didn’t want to happen, of course, then did. Every kid in my class registered a reaction to my being the oldest acolyte in Lake Henry: the freak future priest was in their midst again.

  “Jon-ah, did you do your reading?” If Father Dom dropped the end of words, Mrs. Ng blared them sometimes if they were vowels. Her ESL skills were super-solid. She taught the bard after all. She just had that one weird hint of an accent that popped out here and there, especially with names.

  “Hamlet, yes, ma’am.” I didn’t want to, but I glanced at Bart in his usual badass back row perch. His eyes were on the window and half shut. Thank JC.

  “Do you know who said this, Jon-ah?” Mrs. Ng pointed at the blackboard.

  “Polonius.” I took my usual seat beside Chad, but he did not greet me. He kept his eyes on the book like he was reading along with Mrs. Ng. I knew he wasn’t.

  “What do you think he means?”

  “Live by sword, die by sword?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. I’d never been rude before. Mrs. Ng just stopped for a moment as if someone hit the pause key inside of her. A couple of kids actually laughed, including Chad. He looked my way, I guess thinking this could be our icebreaker. I could feel Bart’s presence. He seemed totally bored by me, but I couldn’t risk being seen as too friendly with Chad anymore. Not now that Chad was kind of starting to come out. He’d come on to me, maybe. I didn’t want to confirm it because then Chad might think I was interested. I wasn’t. Well, I was, but not in him. No, I meant I wasn’t. Really, I just wanted to be back in church.

  “Jonah.” Her inner rage made Mrs. Ng not overdo my name. Maybe this was a breakthrough but at a price. “You have detention.” Ding, ding on the tote board.

  “You still glad to see me?” I muttered, and Chad laughed again, but for the first time ever I didn’t acknowledge him. I felt like less than crap I guessed, because I didn’t know what that would be.

  “HI.” I sat down at the same table I had the last time I’d been in the cafeteria but now chic, stuck-up Karen and her gal pals were already sitting there.

  They didn’t acknowledge me directly but looked at each other as in is this really happening?

  “Have you seen these yet?” I held out a couple of the retreat flyers. I was ready to risk the scholarship plan again because Bart had plenty of time to out me, and he hadn’t, and Mom had pretty much slammed the door on them paying my way. JC wanted me there. He’d provide a way as long as I proved worthy. No more coveting Angie’s boyfriend, acting out in class, I was officially good again.

  “Are you kidding?” Karen spoke for the group. “Am I being recorded?” She made a joke out of looking around.

  I found her as funny as cancer, but I smiled anyway. “A lot of kids are going,” I said. After what I’d done in Mrs. Ng’s class it was even more important to prove my value and get some sign-ups. “It’s not just about praying but a chance to, you know, get out of the house for a whole weekend, hang with your friends.”

  “Don’t you, like, live in church?” Karen asked. I couldn’t decide whether I was flattered she was aware of my existence or bummed it was for the same reason most kids did. I was a zealot in a school with statues and uniforms but really no more holy or less horny than Lake Henry Regional down the road. “What do you need retreat for?”

  “Fresh air, a chance to chill without a lot of parents or teachers.” Really it was because I wanted the cool kids, the ones that decided who would be considered okay or cast aside, to see me in my element where I fit in.

  “There you are.” Darcy dropped beside me. “Chad’s not here, thanks for asking.”

  “He told you.”

  “He said you were being a jerk for no reason.” True but not both at the same time. His liking me enough to come out to me, sort of, should have been flattering. It should’ve made me want to be there for him, and to talk through his feelings and stuff. I ran away. I sucked. At least Darcy was my friend still. Wait, was she?

  “Is she going?” Karen addressed me rather than Darcy.

  “Going where?” Darcy made a point of looking Karen square in the eye.

  “Retreat.” Karen made it sound like the most loser-ly thing imaginable, like seeing a G-rated movie on a Friday night date.

  “Sure am.” Darcy beamed. She was on her way to being hotter than Karen and beginning to know it. “I hear like half the basketball team is going too.” Whereas Angie had the whole supermodel, laughing starlet thing going, Darcy had a lift in her voice. Like everything was both interesting and not at the same time. I’d heard its development stages and was now impressed with the result.

  I kicked her under the table, but Darcy ignored me. I followed Karen’s gaze to Dwight, the bleach-blond kid who as usual let his pants slide down to just above his crack before pulling them up. “Dwight’s going too,” I lied with greater ease, getting used to it, I guessed. The tote board lit up again. “Maybe.”

  “He’s not even Catholic.” Karen’s doubt weakened, probably because she wanted to believe what she was hearing. Cognitive dissonance it was called, and faith was like that too. It was why you had to be careful not to let someone sell you a lot of nonsense in JC’s name. Father Dom taught me that. Another reason he said Catholicism was better than the rest. We believed things no one would want to: like getting rich was not okay with God or not eating meat on Friday mattered. He also said it was important not to just pick what parts to believe and others not. Of course most Catholics no longer thought sex for fun and not just to have babies was bad, or making money wasn’t all that great in God’s eyes. They still had the hostility to gay people to make them feel on the right side of things. I tried not to let the hypocrisy make me doubt what I wanted, what I’d always wanted: to serve JC. So, I did what Father Dom told me not to do. I chose what to believe and what not. I had a system I didn’t share with anyone. If JC said it, I believed it, but if someone else did, not so much.

  “He asked if you were going,” Darcy said as Karen studied Dwight like he was her homework. The clueless half-a-jock took his tray and sat with some of the other basketball crowd. He didn’t wear a varsity jacket but a stonewashed denim one, and his tie was always skewed to one side. Midday sun fell through the prison-mesh windows above us and made Dwight’s blondness shimmer.

  “Let me see that again.” Karen picked up the flyer I’d never taken back from her. Darcy’s father sold cars, and he said once a customer started asking questions, they were hooked and ready to be reeled into the net. Mr. Kovian fished with my father sometimes. Darcy never went either. She shared my aversion to killing worms to kill fish we didn’t need to eat to survive. “How much does it cost?”

  Mr. Kovian would’ve evaded that part to sell her on it some more, to build up the momentum needed to close the deal. So, I did too. “Dwight asked me if you were coming.”

  Karen’s eyes bugged a little before her posse erupted in giggles. “So, how much, Jonah?”

  “Three hundred dollars.” I tried not to wince as I said it. The price was so outrageous.

  “That’s it?” Karen and her friends shrugged. She handed them my flyers. “I’ll think about it.” Karen was suddenly nicer.

  “Deadline is tomorrow.” I nodded over and over. It was called “yes momentum.” Another part of Mr. Kovian’s wisdom he imparted when he drove Darcy, Chad, and me somewhere, except none of us was particularly interested.

  “Get them thinking yes,” he said and nodded to make the point. Fish like to be led.

  “Okay.” Karen nodded back, but I couldn’t tell if she was hooked or making fun of me for my sudden attack of nodding Tourette’s syndrome. One more angel passed—my school must have been on their divine interstate—and I stood up. Now that my pitch was done, it felt awkward being there. Also, I wanted to try to solicit a few other popular girls before the bell. If I got enough of them, I could start on the guys again and not have to worry ab
out being called gay.

  “Chad’s going too, you know.” Darcy distracted me.

  “That’s good.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying.

  “He wants to help you sign people up.” This was fascinating to her? Dull? Who knew?

  “I don’t want him to get into trouble.” True, but not my main reason. The tote board dinged twice. I thought that was unfair until I figured it out. Lying to Darcy was one sin, and my continued forsaking of my best friend was an even worse number two. Sisters Margo and Matilda walked into the cafeteria. I stuffed the remaining flyers back into my bag.

  “You’re not supposed to be doing this?” Darcy noticed.

  “Technically I’m not sure.”

  “Jonah?”

  “Sister didn’t say no.”

  “Did she say yes?”

  “No.”

  “You could be so wasting your time and risk getting into serious trouble here.”

  “It’s an act of faith.” I grinned, and Darcy fell against me. Her back pressed to my chest. I pushed away before she could land her ass on my junk. It was a Heisman from behind that would have made Sister Margo proud. Darcy gave me almost an identical look of bewilderment as Chad had. “I have to go to class.” I started walking without her.

  “The bell hasn’t rung yet.”

  “I need to check my notes,” I said but kept moving. “I think there’s a quiz.” Darcy had always been into me. I hoped we were old enough now she would accept my calling. After Chad in my room and her today, I began to wonder if there was some weird competition between them to see who could get me. Wait—they were my best friends. I needed to get a grip. I was about to turn and apologize, but Darcy was already heading toward Chad coming in the other door.

  “YOU GOING… on the retreat?” I ran beside Dwight and tried to act like it was my natural pace and not that my calves were ablaze. Gym class, the daily run, only Chad was way back there alone today.

  “I’m not Catholic.” Dwight’s words came without huffs between them. He wasn’t that much taller than me, but he was fit and I wasn’t.

  “You… don’t have… to be.” To him I must’ve sounded like a hunk of lung might launch itself from my air-gulping mouth at any moment. “It’s really… a place to hang with friends… be in nature.”

  “It’s a little cold for hiking.”

  “There… might be sledding.” I felt ridiculous. What teenager wanted to admit it was still fun to slide down on a hill?

  “Snowboarding?”

  “No.” I almost tripped but caught myself. “Movies and games.”

  “What kind of movies?”

  “Pretty cool… ones… action stuff.” Liar! I had no clue if there was even a TV.

  “No sex, right?”

  “In the movies?”

  “Okay.” He grinned and added a playful chuckle.

  “No.” I felt so lame. I should’ve really prepared for this better. I just didn’t want Karen to find out Dwight hadn’t even been asked.

  “Sounds pretty boring, dude.”

  “I think… Karen Whitten… might be going.”

  “So why do you care again if I go on this retreat thing?” He looked at me, eye to eye. “And why do you care if I care what Karen does?”

  I wanted to tell him the truth. I needed to sign up enough people to convince Sister Margo I deserved to be rewarded. To do that, I lied to a girl that was crushing on him bad. She was really hot. I was gay, and even I could see that. He should be psyched to get some alone time with her. I wanted to say some or all of that, but what came out instead….

  “I just think it might be cool for a lot of us to you know, get away.” I impressed myself by getting that much out without gasping. “How often… do kids our age get that chance?” The tote board would’ve dinged, but I’d just unplugged it. I was on a mission.

  “Aaron, pick it up!” Coach Danetto blew his whistle and made me realize Dwight had slowed down to talk to me. Bart jogged by and gave Dwight a shrug and curious look as in, Why are you talking to that loser? At least that was what I hoped he’d meant and not he thought I liked guys.

  “Maybe, all right?” Dwight gave me a quick pat on the back and resumed his run. “Maybe.”

  I staggered, stopped, and grabbed my knees. Not the answer I wanted, but at least he didn’t say no.

  “Are you all right?” Chad ambled up beside me.

  “Maybe,” I said, glad we were talking again. “How about you?”

  “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IT WAS technically morning. It was just the sun’s alarm went off later than mine. I stumbled into the kitchen, my hair still damp and expected to find my father waiting. He usually dropped me off on his way to the motel when I worked a weekday morning Mass.

  “Morning, Jonah.” Rusty leaned against the counter with one of Mémé’s rooster mugs in his hand.

  “Hi.” I wanted to ask what he was doing there, but it seemed rude. “You get up this early?” That sounded better, I figured.

  “I haven’t been to bed yet,” he leaned in and whispered. I could smell the trace of some kind of whiskey on his breath.

  “Does Angie know you’re here?”

  “What do you think?” My sister already had on her coat. “We’re taking you.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “Some guest got a little out of hand and trashed his room last night. He had to go in early.”

  “It wasn’t me.” Rusty raised his hands. He had on plaid wool slacks and a cream-colored, tight pullover sweater that had gray bands on the sleeves and collar. Both looked wrinkled and not on purpose.

  “Jeez, not that one.” Angie took the rooster mug from him and poured the contents into a plain one from the cupboard.

  “I didn’t realize it was art.” With his reddish eyes and hair hanging down under his beanie, Rusty reminded me of a health book stoner. He just needed the mirrored sunglasses.

  “Our grandmother collects them. Anything with a rooster on it.” Angie rinsed the mug and put it back on the shelf alongside the rooster salt shaker, plate, and soup tureen.

  “Interesting.” Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it means she likes cock?”

  “That’s disgusting.” Angie handed me an english muffin smeared with too much peanut butter. I wanted to refuse it, but I didn’t want to tell Rusty about my morning fast either. I didn’t think he’d understand.

  “What about Mom?”

  “She’s got to get the twins ready.” Angie was in her school uniform, leg warmers, and her blouse was open one button too many for Sister Margo.

  “I thought we were friends, Jonah.” Rusty flashed me his devilish, dimpled smile.

  “We were going to stay for Mass.” Angie leaned against me like we were posing for a picture in one of those old-time photo booths.

  “Your uniforms are really amazing,” Rusty said as he looked at us side by side.

  “What is happening in here?” Mémé closed my grandfather’s flannel bathrobe as she shuffled into the kitchen. “You are here, hmph?”

  “No.” Rusty winked, but Mémé didn’t seem affected by his charms. Like she had some kind of clairvoyance when it came to her poultry menagerie, she stopped and took down the mug Angie had just reshelved. Silently my grandmother rubbed a dishtowel over her precious ninety-nine-cent-store ceramic souvenir cup one more time. She shot Rusty another look because it had to be him. Angie and I would never dare. With more care than she ever showed with any of us, Mémé put the mug back on the shelf and headed toward the bathroom. Unfortunately, stopping in the kitchen must’ve cost her valuable time. Before she got the door closed, Mémé’s fart echoed off the tile walls and reverberated back down the hall. Angie and Rusty didn’t move except their lips trembled from trying not to laugh.

  “Let’s go.” I didn’t think it was all that funny. I’d been awake for less than an hour, and already my routine was being shaken.

  “SO, YOU do this a lot?” Rusty asked me bu
t kept his eyes on the road.

  “Just one week a month.” I forced myself to sound bored and stayed back against the seat. I guess I was trying out a new cool.

  “There’s a whole platoon of altar boys,” Angie had to throw in.

  “Acolytes,” I corrected her. I hated relying on other people for rides. It wasn’t a big deal back when I was at Holy R. Now the other kids were driving. I’d written off ever having sex, or partying because that could lead to sex, but the open road was one freedom I wanted to share. I’d be sixteen in less than a month—patience, I told myself. This too shall pass.

  “Jonah’s the oldest by like four years.”

  “You must really like church.” Rusty glanced over his shoulder. I didn’t want to say yes, but it was true.

  “It’s all right,” I mumbled, still working on my cool no matter how ridiculous was the concept of a badass acolyte. Most of Angie’s other boyfriends, I couldn’t care less about. I really wanted Rusty to like me. I glanced out at the road and instantly panicked. “We missed the turn!” I sounded so kid-like I wanted to punch myself. “Turn around.”

  “Where?” Rusty shrugged. The road was narrow anytime and now grimy snow banks that built up all winter took away most of either shoulder.

  “Do a U-turn.”

  “And get broadsided? No way.”

  “Since when are you so safety-minded?” Angie tickled his stubble that was on its way to being a full-blown beard and mustache.

  “My car is still in the garage.” He shifted from my sister to me. “So you’re a few minutes late. It’s not like they can fire you.”