The Battle for Jericho

by Gene Gant

“He always looks like that,” Dad added helpfully.

  My dad, professor of bad jokes.

  “Maybe you should lie down,” Mom suggested.

  “Maybe you’re right.” I got up from the table.

  “I’ll get the dishes tonight, Mrs. J,” Hutch said, casual as ever. He wasn’t as formal with my parents now. He called them “Mrs. J” and “Doc J,” and you could hear the appreciation in his voice every time he called them that. There was maybe even a little affection in his voice, as well. He didn’t look at me or show the slightest concern as I left the dining room. I knew he was doing that to maintain his cool around Mom and Dad.

  It still hurt.

  IT WAS hard (sometimes even below the belt) seeing Hutch in school the next day, hanging out with some of his other friends. They made him laugh. His parents had broken him and tossed him out, so his laughter was a wonderful thing to me. I wished I was the one who made him laugh. There was a lot of stuff I wished I could do with him. I wanted to lean back against my locker and let him press up against me. I wanted to stick my hands in his back pockets, the way I used to do with Lissandra, and hold on while I told him how pretty his eyes were. Aside from an occasional “Get a room,” or “Y’all are so nasty,” nobody batted an eye when I did things like that in the hall with my sort-of-ex girlfriend. If I did that with Hutch, we wouldn’t make it to our next class alive. I couldn’t even look at him in school for too long because when I did, the desire came into my eyes and people noticed.

  “Hey, Jiles, whatcha looking at him like that for?” Ham Goldberg said, easing up to me at my locker and following my gaze down the hall to Hutch. He was on the football team, about as solid as a tank. Everyone thought it was funny that Jewish parents would name their kid Ham. When I was around him, I always thought of rye bread. “The guy do something to you? You gonna kick his ass?” Ham was usually pretty sharp, but it seemed his brain just couldn’t accept that one guy was looking at another guy with longing in his eyes.

  Thank God for that. I turned away from Hutch, faking a smile. “You know, Hammy, suddenly I gotta have a hot Cuban sandwich. You think they got anything like that in the cafeteria today?”

  I was a degenerate for what I’d done with Hutch in my bed. I was a pervert for wanting to do it again. I was a sinner because I had an ache in my heart for him. Hell was going to swallow me up any day now.

  As if that weren’t bad enough, there was also the hell of running across Lissandra. She passed me in the halls with her girlfriends, pointedly looking anywhere but at me. I knew she was waiting for me to come to her and set things right between us. And I wanted to do that, very badly. I missed her. I wanted her. But I also wanted this other thing that no decent, Christian guy should ever want. I thought I knew myself, but I didn’t. Not anymore.

  “LAW offices of Stabler and Benson.”

  “Hello. Uh. I need to speak to Dylan Cussler.”

  “I can’t hear you. Can you speak up?”

  I was at the pay phone outside the principal’s office, and no, I couldn’t speak up. “Dylan Cussler, Dylan Cussler. I need to speak to him.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s with a client. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “Yes. Please tell him to call Jericho Jiles. The best time to reach me is after three thirty this afternoon. Please tell him it’s an emergency.”

  “I’ll make sure he gets the message, sir. What’s your number?”

  Chapter 19

  I DECIDED I was going to stop all the sexy thoughts and feelings about Hutch. Just stop. Cold turkey. Click. Switch off.

  It was the only thing I could think of, the only way to get back to normal and get right in God’s eyes. There was no one I could talk to. Dylan was the only person around who could possibly help me make sense of things, but he was always too busy to talk when I called him. I didn’t want to go by his house again. Too much danger in that. Not only might somebody I know see me going in or out of his house, there was also the fact that Dylan was a hot man. He was what Hutch would look like in about ten years, if Hutch built bigger muscles, dyed his hair blond, and went with a buzz cut. I didn’t need any more visual treats of guy candy.

  That Friday afternoon, walking home from school with Mac and Hutch, I decided our topic of conversation would be all girls, all the time. “Hey, Mac, was that Nora Beech you were squeezing on after lunch?”

  Mac grinned blissfully. “Yeah, Jer.”

  “She’s hot,” I said, and I meant it. “When did you hook up with her?”

  “Yesterday, man. She’s been eyeballing me for weeks. I finally made a move.”

  “I thought you liked Gina Marie,” said Hutch.

  The grin on Mac’s face gave way to bitterness. “Yeah, I did. Thing is, I’m looking for a girl, not a dyke. Gina Marie chases more cat than I do. And then she wants me to sit and watch her play with other girls. I got tired of all her freaky bull.”

  Hutch laughed. “What’s wrong with you? Most guys would pay money to see two girls make out.”

  “Well, I’m not most guys.”

  Mac was lying, of course. He’d been turned on watching Gina Marie and her friend Donna go at each other, all right. It was only the price of admission Gina Marie wanted to charge that turned him off. I wondered what that would be like, seeing Mac and big, buff Lester bump lips…. Girls, Jericho. Remember, all girls, all the time. “Gina Marie’s really hot,” I said, mostly to myself. “Nora’s hot too, but Gina Marie’s got it all over. Beautiful face. Big pillow tits you can bury your face in. Big bouncy butt—”

  “You know what,” said Mac, grabbing me by the back of the neck and giving me a shake. “You need to stop thinking about Gina Marie and Nora and start working things out with Lissandra. She’s been good for you, man. That girl is smart, she’s hot, and she’s the only female around here who actually likes your skinny butt. You’d be stupid to let that get away.”

  Hutch made a little choking sound, which I ignored.

  “You calling me stupid? Huh? You calling me stupid?” I made it sound as if I was about to take off one of Mac’s arms and beat him over the head with it.

  “Yeah, I’m calling you stupid!” Mac shook me like a can of soda.

  “Okay, got it, just checking,” I rattled off, laughing along with Mac.

  Hutch said something to me, but I didn’t hear it over the laughter. I didn’t ask him what he’d said. I didn’t look at him. I kept Mac between us as we walked. That was part of the plan. I couldn’t be attracted to Hutch if I didn’t see him. It was working great so far, and it would go on working great for about another fifteen minutes, which was how long it would take the three of us to reach home. I’d have to come up with something else once Hutch and I were alone at home. Maybe I’d just lock myself in the bathroom until it was time to go to bed.

  I caught a break when we reached Mac’s house. Hutch and Mac got caught up talking about some new game Mac had downloaded on his phone. I took the opportunity to sneak away, telling Hutch that I’d leave the front door unlocked for him. After letting myself into the house, I went straight to the kitchen to grab some food. That way, I could shut myself up in my room, skip dinner, and not have to face anyone tonight. I snatched a bottle of apple juice (I really missed Gatorade) from the fridge and a pack of crackers and a jar of peanut butter from the pantry, and I was practically running to my room when the front door opened.

  Damn it.

  “Hey, Jerry.”

  “See ya later, Hutch. Got homework.”

  “Jerry, you got a second?”

  “What I got is a lot of homework, man. I want to get it out of the way now so I don’t have to worry about it all weekend.”

  “This won’t take long.” Hutch closed the door and put down his backpack. “I really need to talk to you.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to turn him down. “Okay. Sit.” I dropped my backpack and jacket, put the snacks on the coffee table, and sat down on the sofa.

  After a moment of hesitation, Hut
ch sat down in the chair across from me. He seemed to get the message that I didn’t want him too close to me just now.

  I stared at the bottle of apple juice as if it held the meaning of all existence. “What’s up?” I prompted impatiently.

  “First, I want to say thank you. You and your parents really came through for me when I needed it most. I never told you how much that means to me. So… thank you.”

  That made me feel soft in the chest, and I wanted to stop him before he went on and said something else that would melt me down even more. “You need a haircut.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Hutch smile, just a bit embarrassed, as he reached up, tugging at his hair with his fingers. “I know. I was gonna take some scissors and hack off the ends.”

  “I get my allowance tomorrow. I’ll spot you some cash for the barbershop.”

  Hutch got quiet when I said that. I refused to look at him, but I could hear the soft little sigh he made. “Jerry, that’s… you’re the best, you know that? I made something for you in craft and design. You know, just to say thank you.” He dug into his pocket and tossed something across the room to me.

  I snagged it from the air. It was a bracelet, woven from strips of black and tan leather. It was a finely done piece of work, one that must have taken him some time to finish. “Hutch. This is great. Thanks.”

  “I got an A on it,” Hutch said. “And you don’t have to feel funny about wearing it. Lissandra didn’t see me make it.”

  “Oh.” Dread went through me like a chill. I’d forgotten that he and Lissandra were in the same craft and design class. “So you and Lissandra like… talk?”

  “Sometimes. We’ve been talking a lot more than usual lately. She keeps asking me if I know what’s up with you.”

  “So you lie to her. Right?”

  “Not really. She wants to know if you’re seeing another girl. I told her that you aren’t. That’s the truth, as far as I know. Anyhow, the bracelet’s not much, but I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  “Yeah, okay. Well, if that’s all….” I stood up, reaching for my snacks.

  “Wait. Sit down,” Hutch begged. “Please, just for a little longer.”

  I wished he’d stop talking. I wished he’d go upstairs and watch television or work out or something. Anything that got him away from me. “Okay, but I do have homework.” Reluctantly, I sat down again. This time I stared down at my lap to keep from seeing the emotion in his face.

  “The other thing I wanted to say is that I like you. I mean, I’ve always liked you, but now I’m starting to really like you. I know you’re not comfortable with that because of your religion. You’re attracted to girls, and you’re still not over Lissandra. You want to get back together with her, and you probably will. I know all that.” Hutch made a motion as if he was about to get up, as if he was about to come over to me, and then he stopped himself. “But, Jerry, you are such an amazing guy, and I like you so much, and I just… I want to be with you. I know you don’t want anything like a boyfriend, I know you would probably never be that to me. I think that’s why you stopped yesterday when we were so close. You didn’t want to start me looking for something that would never be. I don’t want you to do anything that you think goes against your religion or keeps you from being with Lissandra, if that’s who you want to be with. But you don’t have to hold back because you’re worried about my feelings. I already know what you can’t give me, but I want anything that you can give me.”

  The silence that followed felt as if it would crush me. My thoughts and feelings swirled like debris in a whirlwind, threatening to spin out of control. I was afraid of what I might do if I got up or looked at Hutch now. I closed my eyes and didn’t move.

  “Anyway,” Hutch said, breaking that long pause, “that’s what I wanted to say. I’m gonna get a shower before dinner.”

  I heard him get up and go upstairs. At lunch today, Hutch had wolfed down the sandwich he brought from home and went out onto the athletic field with a bunch of other guys for a quick game of soccer. I’d watched them play while I sat pretending to listen to Mac as he babbled on about the football team’s prospects in the upcoming game next week. Hutch worked up a good sweat despite the autumn cold. He had real skills out there.

  Several minutes passed before I heard the shower come on upstairs. I was still sitting motionless on the sofa with my eyes shut. Hutch was naked up there. The idea began to burn a hole in my head. It was all I could think about, and it made me anxious. Then there was singing. At first, I didn’t associate it with what was happening in the house at all. It seemed to come from nowhere, rising over the hiss of the shower, teasing along the ceiling and down the walls, a twangy song about a man in love with a married woman.

  And then it hit me. That was Hutch. That marvelous, incredible, moody tenor was coming from Hutch. I knew he liked country music—it was the only kind of music I’d ever heard him listen to—but who knew he could actually sing the stuff? There seemed to be no end of wonder about him. His voice was smooth and strong, like his body. That, and the sadness of the song, tugged at me.

  I left everything where it was—the peanut butter, the crackers, the apple juice, the leather bracelet, my backpack, my jacket—and I went upstairs. I opened the door and walked into Hutch’s room. The bathroom door was open. I could see him, a vague gray shadow moving under the jet of water behind the wet shower curtain. His voice was rich with music, rich with pain.

  I took off my clothes and went into the bathroom. I pulled back the curtain, which startled Hutch. He was just as surprised as I was when I stepped into the tub with him and pulled the curtain again.

  SOMETHING about Hutch simply broke my heart. That was what kept drawing me to him, what kept me from letting go.

  We mostly just held onto each other beneath the shower’s spray, letting the warm water run over our bodies. Hatred, condemnation, hurt—none of that could bother us there behind the curtain. There was such happiness in the way Hutch clung to me, and I was so glad I could give that to him.

  “I didn’t know you could sing,” I whispered in his ear.

  “I didn’t know you were into figure skating,” he whispered back.

  That was a surprise. Where had he dug that up? Lissandra. Of course. They talked in craft and design. And just as she pumped Hutch for information about me, Hutch probably did the same with her. She was the one who’d gotten me into figure skating. She loved it, something she’d been doing every winter at the ice skating rink inside the civic center since she took her first lesson when she was seven. I resisted at first—all that swirling and twirling seemed too “gay” to me—but finally gave in and went out on the ice with her last winter. Turns out I had a knack for the sport, and I actually enjoyed it. But I was embarrassed for anyone else to know that.

  Hutch and Lissandra being friends was definitely not a good thing.

  I didn’t stay long in the shower. Dad wouldn’t be home for at another half hour at least, but I didn’t want to take any chances. With a brush of my lips across Hutch’s forehead, I let him go and stepped out of the tub. We didn’t say anything. He gave me a smile that was pure affection, and then he withdrew behind the curtain to finish his shower. He started singing again, picking up with the same song he’d been singing before. I dried off and then slipped on my boxers and jeans. I pulled on my shirt but didn’t spare time to fasten the buttons. After scooping up my socks and shoes, I draped the towel over my shoulder and hurried through the room and into the hall.

  Dad was coming down the hall, heading for his room. We stopped when we saw each other. I think my heart stopped too.

  He still had on his overcoat and was carrying his briefcase in one hand and a stack of student answer sheets in the other. His face went from surprise to confusion in about two seconds. Then the sound of Hutch’s singing and the hiss of the shower drew his eyes from me to the door of Hutch’s room, which he’d just seen me exit, and something darker clouded his face.

 
The emotion was gone an instant later. “Traffic wasn’t so bad today,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll be down in a bit to get dinner started. Your mom’s going to be late getting in as usual.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I said, “Okay,” and I slid past him and went running down the stairs.

  Chapter 20

  I TRIED to be quiet about it. I don’t think there was the slightest sound when I opened the door.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  I didn’t have to turn. I could feel Dad behind me, standing in the dining room just outside the door to the kitchen. The house was filled with the aroma of baked fish. “I have to get a book from the library.”

  “Get a book from the library?” The way he voiced the question made it sound as if I’d said I was going to get a warhead from the defense depot outside town.

  “Uh, this is for my history class, a book on the Civil War. I have to read it for class Monday. It’s a big book. I want to get started on it tonight.”

  “Dinner will be on the table in half an hour.”

  “I’m not hungry, Dad. I ate already.”

  “You ate already? What the—”

  “Dad, I don’t want any dinner, okay? I really need to get this book.”

  Dad paused. “Your curfew’s at eight tonight, boy.”

  “I know.” I zipped up my jacket and made my escape.

  DYLAN stopped at the bottom step and sighed. “You know, if you keep parking yourself on my porch like this, I’m going to turn you into a planter and stick ferns in your ears.”

  “Hey, Dylan. I need to talk to you.”

  “So what else is new? By the way, I got your message, and just for the record, I did call you back. The call went to your voice mail, but I didn’t feel like a game of tag, so I didn’t leave you a return message.”

  I rolled my eyes at myself. “Oh yeah. That was dumb of me, leaving you my number, but I was sort of on autopilot. My dad’s been holding my cell phone hostage.”