When I Grow Up (Tales from Foster High)

by John Goode

  “So what do I need to do?” I asked, hoping I could get his stare above my waist.

  “Well, check the gym and locker rooms for anything that needs to be picked up. Straighten up anything that looks out of place and then turn the TVs on MSNBC with the sound off. The queens around here will try to get you to change it to Bravo or some shit; tell them the remote is broken and you can’t.” He handed me the remote. “So can I ask, you Jewish?”

  I looked at him and began to ask why when I saw he was looking at my dick.

  “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  I ignored him and began turning the TVs on.

  Kyle

  WHEN I got to class, Teddy was waiting outside. I prayed he wasn’t waiting for me.

  “Hey,” he said, nodding at me.

  Crap.

  “Hey,” I answered, not sure if it would be rude to just walk right past him into class.

  “So about yesterday…,” he began.

  I waited.

  “That was nothing personal or anything,” he added when he figured I wasn’t going to say anything.

  “I didn’t think it was,” I replied, though we both knew it kind of was.

  “You’re from Foster, Texas. I read about you online.”

  That gave me pause. “You what?”

  “I wanted to know more about the things you said, and I found a couple of newspaper articles about you and the school. A couple of people who went to school with you had written blogs too.” He sounded embarrassed, but I wasn’t paying attention to that. I was trying to get my mind around that people in Foster knew what a blog was.

  “Anyway, where you grew up is clearly the exception, and I apologize.”

  “It isn’t the exception,” I corrected him. “Foster can be just as bad as anywhere else.” I thought about Riley and Robbie and added, “In fact, it was worse than a lot of places.”

  “But they accepted you guys,” he argued. “You have to know that is atypical.”

  “They accepted us after we stood up and refused to go away. You look and you see a place that’s different, and I look and see a place that has changed. There’s a big difference between the two.”

  He looked like he was getting upset again. “And what do you think the difference is?”

  I shifted my backpack and tried not to sigh. “Because your statement that all of Texas is intolerant and fucked up precluded the fact that there might be good parts in Texas. Ever. Your assumption stops you from realizing that every place has its own set of rules and ideas. Responding to stereotypes just makes you ignorant.”

  “I didn’t say it was intolerant and fucked up,” he shot back.

  “No, you said, ‘Your state’s history speaks for itself. You can’t tell me that you’d defend it as an open-minded place.’ Asking me to defend it as an open-minded place is the same as calling it a closed-minded place or intolerant. The fucked up part was implied by the look on your face when you said it. Look, you want to know where you went wrong in there yesterday?”

  He arched an eyebrow, daring me to correct him.

  “You did the same thing that you were accusing people from Texas of doing. You judged a whole group of people based on the actions of a few assholes. Should I judge you on the actions of other black people? I mean, if I was the intolerant Texas redneck you seem to think all of us are, then I should have been scared that you’re going to mug or shoot me. Instead I reacted to you based on your words and actions, not stereotypes.”

  “And the Shakespeare quote?” he asked.

  “I’m a Star Trek fan; when in doubt, quote the Bard.”

  “Classic or TNG?” he asked quickly.

  “Neither, to be honest; I was more a Deep Space Nine guy.”

  He looked at me like I had spit on him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Have you seen all of Deep Space Nine?”

  He shook his head. “No, but what I saw I didn’t like.”

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t judge things based on a small sample size,” I said, sidling past him. “That’s really the only way we learn anything new.”

  I got inside and sat down.

  Professor Madison’s class was weird because it was the only class I had that met on three consecutive days. That was nice because I was done for the week by Wednesday, but less nice because he intended to cover a lot in those three days. I pulled out my laptop and set my stuff up before Teddy sat down next to me.

  “I was trying to apologize,” he said, pulling a MacBook Air out of his bag. “You make that kind of hard.”

  I looked over at him and took a deep breath. “I don’t like it when people make judgments based on false or misleading information, even if I agree with their opinion. I know Texas is generally a closed-minded, conservative state, but I know that firsthand. Which means I also know firsthand that there are some incredible people who live there and defy every single stereotype that’s hurled at the state. And I’m willing to bet the same can be said for California and your belief that everyone here cares about other peoples’ opinion. You want to go outside and take a poll and see how many self-centered assholes we find?”

  He began to laugh and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I give. I was wrong, completely, and you caught me. Can we try again?”

  I smiled. “We can do that.”

  “I’m Teddy,” he said, holding his hand out.

  “Kyle.” I shook it.

  “You free this weekend?”

  I paused. “Free for what?”

  He cocked his head. “Coffee? A movie?”

  “Um, like a date?” I asked, unsure of the terminology.

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I said as nicely as I could.

  “Oh,” he replied curtly. “Not into black guys?”

  My head spun over to look at him. “What? No, I have a boyfriend.” I could see the look of disbelief in his face. “Are you serious? You think I would make a boyfriend up to avoid going out with you?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first white boy who has,” he said, pretending to study his laptop.

  I pulled my phone out and showed him a picture of Brad. “This is my boyfriend; we’ve dated for almost a year. He moved out from Texas with me and we live together.”

  He glanced over at the picture of Brad, looked away for a second, and then looked back quickly once his mind processed the image. “That is your boyfriend?” I nodded. “Show me another picture.” I slid the picture aside and showed him a picture of us at the prom by the lake. Brad’s arm was around me and we both had smiles as wide as our faces. “Does he go here?”

  I locked the phone. “Nope, he just got a job at a gym.”

  “Ah,” he said, going back to his laptop. “That makes sense, then.”

  “What does?” I was starting to get pissed.

  “You like pretty boys; I get it. Most guys are superficial like that.”

  My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to process what he had just said without screaming. “Superficial? So just because Brad is cute, that means I only like him for his looks?”

  Teddy looked back at me, and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes that he had gotten to me. “Well, let’s see. He doesn’t go to college; he works minimum wage at a gym, which means you’re probably paying for most of everything with your scholarship. He can’t be all that bright if he isn’t even trying to go to junior college, and you seem too smart to be true. So tell me, Kyle from Foster, Texas, what exactly do you guys have in common? You guys discuss current events and politics or just have a lot of sex? He read the books you read? Like the movies you like?” I said nothing. “Right. Which means he has a perfect body and a cute face. You tell me why you’re going out with him, then.”

  “I love him,” I said, as pissed as I had ever been with a stranger, and that included Mr. Raymond. “You know, you might think you’re Sherlock Holmes over there, but you don’t know a thing about me and him.”

  “I do
n’t?” he said with that same fake air of concern. “Then tell me where I got it wrong, Kyle.”

  “That boy stood by me when no one else would,” I said, realizing my hands were balled into fists. “He came out to the entire school because he didn’t want me to stand there alone and get bullied. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose: his friends, his spot on the baseball team, everything. I begged him not to do it and he still did. He has never once wavered in his faith that we should be together. Even when I got scared and tried to push him away, he was still there for me. So before you open your fucking mouth about shit you don’t know about, maybe you should learn the rest of the story.”

  “Methinks thou protest too much,” he said with a grin. “I like Next Gen myself.”

  “The quote is ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ so if you want to pull from Shakespeare, get it right, and you can think anything you want if it makes you feel better. But that whole race bullshit? It’s you deflecting from the fact that guys probably didn’t reject you ’cause you’re black; they probably said no ’cause you’re a smug asshole.”

  I grabbed my stuff and moved to another seat before I said more.

  Brad

  SO THE morning was busier than I thought it would be.

  A small group of guys, all my dad’s age, came in and got a workout in before lunch. Most were in okay shape—well, great shape for their age—and all of them flirted hardcore with me. One guy was staring pretty hard at my dick as I stood over him and spotted him on his bench press, so I eased up on how much I was holding. His arms instantly began to shake, and I could see him struggle to get it back up to the bar.

  “Helps to concentrate on the weights,” I advised, pulling it off him. He glared at me, but he could no more accuse me of dropping the bar than I could of him staring at my junk. There was a line of guys waiting for me to help them work out. By noon I had helped four guys train, and when I took my lunch break, Todd handed me a fifty.

  “Gurl, lunch is on me. I have never had so many queens sign up for lessons that they will never use. I was right about you.”

  I was going to say that I could do the same thing with more clothes on, but I had fifty bucks in my hand, so I shut up. I walked out to grab some food as another guy my age walked in the other door. He was shorter than me but had a great build on him. It was a perfect gym body, one of those physiques guys spent hour after hour on in the gym, making sure every cut was deep and perfect. It’s funny because I’m sure the guy was in great shape, but his muscles didn’t serve any real purpose. I mean, my arms were big from throwing a ball a thousand times a day; I lifted to get as much power behind my throw as I could get. This guy had huge biceps because it made guys look at him.

  I nodded at him as I walked out; I heard him hit his head on the door and curse as I looked around to find somewhere to eat.

  “Hey,” he said, moving toward me. “You work out here?”

  He had short-cropped brown hair with spiky bangs that were gelled upward with something that had to be weatherproof, it looked so stiff. He had bright blue eyes that looked fake, they were so vivid. I instantly thought of contacts.

  “Um, I work there, but I’m on break. I’ll be back in an hour,” I said, seeing a Subway down the street.

  “Okay,” he called after me. “I’ll be waiting in there.”

  I didn’t even look behind me and waved over my shoulder as I crossed the street toward the food. I spent the next hour devouring two footlongs and downing a huge Coke Zero before heading back for the rest of my shift. When I walked in, I saw Frank talking to Todd at the front counter.

  “Hey, Brad,” Frank said, waving at me.

  “Frank!” I said, smiling. “You’re back.”

  “He’s back and he’s your next client,” Todd said cheerfully.

  “Awesome,” I said, finishing my Coke. “Lemme wash up and we’ll start. Any idea what you want to work on?”

  “Um, what do you suggest?”

  “Well you did some chest yesterday, so let’s focus on legs and abs,” I said, tossing my cup away.

  Which was when the guy who had talked to me when I was leaving came over. “Hey again,” he said with a smile.

  “’Sup,” I said before heading to the bathroom to wash my hands.

  Eager Guy followed me. “So you’re, like, a trainer?” he asked as I washed my hands.

  I nodded. “Just started.”

  “I’m Colt,” he said, holding his hand out even though mine were still under the water. He saw and pulled his back. “Oh, sorry ’bout that.”

  I dried my hands. “It’s cool. I’m Brad.”

  “I was doing some squats; mind helping me out?”

  I shook my head as I walked past him. “Sorry, man, I have a client.”

  “The old guy? You’re going to help him instead of me?”

  I looked back at Colt. “Well, that guy paid for me to help him and it is, like, my job. So I kinda have to.”

  “So I have to pay to talk to you?” He sounded upset.

  “No, we’re talking right now. But I have a paying client waiting for me, so, I’ll talk to you later,” I said, walking back to the gym floor.

  “You aren’t going to need gloves for legs, Frank,” I said, smiling, trying to ignore the weirdness that was Colt for the moment.

  I started Frank out on an elliptical to get his heart pumping; the whole time Colt worked out over at the squat machine and glared at us. Next I moved Frank over to a leg press and set him up with a little weight.

  “You seemed to have pissed Colt off,” Frank said between sets.

  “Not sure how,” I said, not even looking toward wherever Colt was.

  “You didn’t fall all over yourself trying to get to him,” Frank explained. “It’s why he comes here—for the attention.”

  My brow furrowed in confusion. “Attention? For what?”

  Frank chuckled. “Same attention you got yesterday. Young, hot guy working out gets a lot of looks from guys my age.”

  “He comes here to get that?” I asked, shocked.

  Frank nodded. “Some guys get off on it. They like to be chased.”

  I was never going to understand how being gay worked.

  “Okay, another set. You don’t want your body to cool off too much or you lose the burn,” I said, clearing my thoughts of Colt and his drama.

  “I appreciate you not blowing me off,” Frank said as we moved to another machine.

  “Huh?” I asked, confused.

  “The last trainer Todd hired would give us a list of things to do and then spend most of the session flirting with Colt. I guess Todd knew better, hiring a straight guy this time.”

  “I’m not straight,” my mouth said before I could stop it.

  Frank paused and looked at me like I had grown a third eye. After a few seconds, he said in a low voice, “Do yourself a favor. Tell no one in here that, or you’ll spend all your time fending off guys trying to get with you. They can be relentless.”

  “I have a boyfriend,” I said in the same low voice. “So it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  Frank shook his head. “Must be a hell of a boyfriend for you not to even give Colt a glance.” He gave me a look. “He’s a lucky guy.”

  Smiling, I said, “I’m the lucky one and you’re stalling. Give me four sets of eight.”

  Kyle

  THE CLASS blurred by as I sat there and stewed about Teddy.

  I mean, come on; I was literally in a relationship. Who just assumed someone would be lying when they said no to a date instead of accepting the fact they might be telling the truth? I paused, because before Brad, that would have been my exact thought process if I had asked someone out and gotten turned down. Of course, I would have never asked anyone out, since we all know I was the Hunchback of Foster High most of my life, but if something had fallen on my head and I woke up not knowing who I was and maybe started speaking with a French accent, my first thought at rejection might have been that they w
ere lying to protect my feelings.

  Every particle of my being wanted to glance over at Teddy to see if he was staring at me, but I resisted. Instead I pulled up Facebook on my laptop and decided to repay the stalking. Teddy Bergman grew up in San Rafael, which according to my Google search was a pretty affluent place. He went to a private school and won the Junior National Academic Championship when he was thirteen. According to his profile he had two moms, both white, and was head of the tolerance club at his high school.

  There was a picture of him and some other kids meeting President Obama, another of him with Condoleezza Rice at some kind of award thing. There were a ton of postings about this contest or that event… but none with friends. In fact, out of the 317 friends he had on Facebook, most looked like they were because of various games he played. The only actual posts he had were by his moms.

  That was sad.

  By the end of class, I felt sorry for the guy. I mean, I was a complete shut-in before Brad, but at least I made friends. Maybe I was wrong; maybe his friends didn’t get on Facebook. Maybe he had a ton of friends and they just used different social media.

  When the bell rang, I grabbed my stuff and was not shocked to see him waiting out in the hall.

  “That was uncalled for,” he said without preamble. “I had no right to say any of that, and I apologize.”

  I smiled. “A friend of mine used to say we all get one crazy. Consider that yours.”

  He smiled back. “So how about I try this again? I am Teddy; you are Kyle and in a relationship. I am gay also but would like to pursue a friendship with you if that is okay.”

  Laughter slipped out of my mouth. “Okay, Teddy the gay robot. I am Kyle and would love to be friends.”

  “If I’m a robot, I am Data rocking an emotion chip,” he corrected, shaking my hand.

  “If that’s you with emotion, you need to see if that chip is under warranty, because it seems a little weak.”

  His face got serious until he saw me laugh, and then he smiled back. “So what you got now?”

  “An hour and then history.”