Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1)

by Jamie Mayfield

  “We’re going with you,” Richard said as he finished up the last of the stitches on my face. “I want the school administration, the ones you don’t think will protect him, to see his face.” Mr. Barnes agreed, and after a few more minutes, we were in the car following him back to the school.

  “Brian,” Richard said as he looked over from the driver’s seat. “I’ll support whatever decision you make about school. If you want to stay, I’ll be here for you. If you want to try another school, I’ll support that too. Do you understand?”

  “Thank you,” I told him earnestly. “I’m not going to let them run me out or force me to say that what Jamie and I have is wrong, because it isn’t. If I went somewhere else, the rumor would just follow me anyway. We don’t need to make things any harder on us.”

  “So, you aren’t giving up on Jamie, even if he’s in California?”

  “I’ll never give up on Jamie,” I said, staring out the window, unable to tell him that right after graduation, I was leaving for California too. I had to find Jamie so we could be together, but I didn’t think my foster father would understand. Richard remained silent for the rest of the drive to the school, appearing to be deep in thought.

  When we got to school, classes were back in session. I couldn’t believe the whole thing had only taken just over an hour. We followed Mr. Barnes to the principal’s office, slower than normal because of my injuries, and none of us spoke. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Brad Mosely again, but I did feel more comfortable with Richard there. The office was deserted when we entered, but at the sound of the door opening, a secretary scrambled into the outer room.

  “Betty, where is Brad Mosely?” Mr. Barnes asked, looking around. “I sent him down here earlier.”

  “Mr. Payne sent him back to class,” Betty replied, looking anywhere but at Mr. Barnes. “He’d like to see you as well.” I wondered if she ever looked him in the eye or if there was something else going on, something that didn’t bode well for me.

  “Fine, tell him I’m here with Brian McAllister and his father.” She nodded quickly and picked up the phone on her desk. Turning away from us, she spoke into it, so low and so quiet that we couldn’t hear what she said. Whatever they were discussing, it would definitely be bad for me.

  “He’ll see all of you now,” she said, and Mr. Barnes led us back to a large room in the back of the office with Judson Payne, Principal stenciled on it. With two loud raps on the door, he opened it and ushered us through.

  I’d never been in the principal’s office before; I’d never once been in trouble at school. As we entered the room, I felt like a condemned man, and my heart was pounding against my ribs. Under Mr. Payne’s stern look, Richard and I took seats across from the large maple desk. Mr. Payne didn’t rise to greet us; he simply sat behind the desk and went back to rifling through a stack of papers. The fact that he continued to read the same short paper, and that his eyes weren’t moving, gave away his feigning a lack of attention to our presence. Mr. Barnes leaned against a bookcase off to the side, and we waited for Mr. Payne to address us.

  “Mr. Barnes,” he finally said, looking up from his desk. “You are suspended for two weeks without pay for removing a student from school grounds without the permission of the school administration.”

  Mr. Barnes didn’t speak; he just nodded.

  “He had my permission,” Richard said, his voice carrying with the ringing weight of its authority. “He called me when Brian was attacked, and I asked him to bring my son to me so I could treat him.” I could see Richard was trying to keep his temper in check behind his flushed cheeks and flashing eyes because losing control would not be helpful in any way.

  “That’s all well and good, but he didn’t follow established protocols in case of an injury to a student, and therefore must atone for his misdeed. With the sub shortage going on right now, we’ll defer your suspension for summer. Do you agree?” Mr. Payne asked Mr. Barnes, who simply nodded.

  I couldn’t understand; Mr. Barnes had just talked about fighting to get this position, and now he was just rolling over. On the other hand, if he really had broken the rules, maybe it was a battle he couldn’t win. Instantly, I felt guilty for causing him trouble when he was only trying to help me.

  “Fine, now what about this Mosely kid?” Richard asked. “What kind of atonement will he be making for his misdeeds?” His tone slightly mocked that of the principal, and childish as it was, I tried not to smile.

  “Mr. Mosely was acting in self-defense and therefore will not be punished. He has confided in me that Mr. McAllister tried to kiss him,” he said with a note of distaste in his voice. “Mr. Mosely pushed Mr. McAllister in an attempt to stop his sexual advance, and Mr. McAllister lost his footing. He is sorry that your son was injured but was defending himself. Three other students that were present on the stairs corroborate his version of events.”

  Richard turned to me, and I could see the rage barely contained in his eyes. “Son, is that what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Would you tell Mr. Payne what happened on the stairs?” Richard asked, putting a hand on the arm of my chair. I wanted to stand up for myself, to shout them down, but I couldn’t repeat the disgusting things he’d said to me.

  “It doesn’t matter; he’s not interested in my version of the events.” I looked up at Mr. Payne and saw the faint, smug smile on his face. It wouldn’t matter if the whole thing had been videotaped; he would still take Mosely’s side because he was a homophobic bigot.

  “Do you have anyone to corroborate your version of events?” Mr. Payne asked.

  “No,” I said, remembering all the students on the stairs and how none of them had defended me or even tried to help. None of them had cared as he shoved me. I’d lost my right to friends, to allies, when I had fallen in love with Jamie.

  “Then you are suspended for the next two days. We will see you back at school on Monday,” Mr. Payne said, handing me a suspension form. I nodded, and Richard stood up.

  “The only reason I’m not going to fight this is because, as his physician, I think it’s better for Brian to be home to rest until Monday. I would’ve kept him out of school anyway. But if you think I’m going to let this pattern of abuse against him continue, you are sorely mistaken.” Richard turned to me, holding his arm out to put around my shoulders. I’m not sure I even understood the depth and complexity of the feelings that went through me then.

  Gratitude.

  Admiration.

  Love.

  I stood quickly, and Richard put his arm around my shoulder, leading me out of the office. As we closed the door, I heard Mr. Payne start to lecture Mr. Barnes once again about what had happened. Apparently, I should have been sent, alone, to the nurse, and he should have been doing what Mr. Payne pays him for. It sickened me how that bastard talked to him. Mr. Barnes had only been trying to help me, trying to stop Mosely from putting me in the hospital. If a straight teacher had come to help me, he wouldn’t have been giving them such a hard time, especially someone like Mr. Butler with his minivan full of perfectly straight soccer-playing kids.

  “Let’s get you home,” Richard said as we walked down the front steps of the school toward his car. “Carolyn’s going to be a mess when she sees you.” All I wanted to do was go home, try to eat something, and go to bed. When I was safely buckled, he turned to me, his face full of concern. “Are you in pain? I can write you a script for something to help. I can drop you off at home and then stop at the pharmacy.”

  “Yes, I’m in pain. If you could pick something up for me, I’d appreciate it.” I accepted his offer, leaning back against the seat and closing my eyes, not even making the attempt to be brave because everything hurt. I felt him hesitate, and for a minute I thought he was going to say something else. Instead, he started the car and pulled away from the curb. It didn’t take any time at all, it seemed, for us to get home, or I dozed for a minute or two during the ride. Hopefully the medication Richard was going to g
et at the pharmacy would knock me out for the night. I was sick of feeling. I was sick of hurting. I just wanted it to stop. Unfortunately, I knew that until I had Jamie back in my arms, the hurting and the pain would never really go away.

  Richard walked up to the house with me and held the door while I went inside. I could hear Carolyn in the kitchen, most likely making dinner by the smell of frying chicken that permeated the room. A couple of pans banged against the counter as she called to see if it was Richard who’d come in. Then the oven door slammed, and she came into the front room.

  Her gasp caused me to look up.

  “Brian, what happened?” Swiftly she walked over and put her hand on the uninjured side of my face, gaping in horror at the stitches and the bruising. I met her eyes, and I could tell by her expression that my pain clearly showed on my face.

  “They know,” I said softly, and she nodded, picking up on my meaning faster than Richard had. After she’d taken inventory of my injuries, she kept looking over at Richard in a way that made me think she was desperate to talk to him. I’m sure she wanted to know how they could help me. I also knew they couldn’t.

  “I’m going to go lie down,” I said, heading for the stairs.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can with some pain meds for you. You don’t appear to have a concussion, so you can sleep if you want,” Richard told me over Carolyn’s shoulder as she hugged me gently.

  “I’ll bring you up some soup when Richard gets back with your pills, okay?” Carolyn asked, and I shrugged, turning for the stairs.

  I took them slowly, the pain in my back and leg making the climb almost physical torture. Finally, I got to my room and took off my sneakers and jeans. It was the first chance I’d had to assess my injuries alone, and I was surprised by the amount of damage Mosely had caused. There was a large, angry bruise on my leg from where he’d kicked me. In the full-length mirror on the back of my door, I saw that almost the entire lower half of my back was black-and-blue from where I’d landed on the stairs. My face was banged-up and stitched. It looked like I’d been in a car accident, not a schoolyard fight, if you could even call it a fight.

  Leaving my T-shirt and briefs on, I crawled very carefully onto the bed and arranged myself on my stomach. Normally I didn’t sleep on my stomach, but I didn’t want to put any pressure on my back. As I turned my head so the left, undamaged side of my face pressed against the pillow, I found myself looking at my only picture of Jamie. It had been taken at the youth retreat we’d gone to earlier in the summer. We were standing in front of our tent with an arm around each other’s shoulders, and our smiles couldn’t have been bigger. In the picture, we were flanked by two guys we’d thought were our friends, until they showed their true bigoted colors. Their presence was like a shadow over us, but I didn’t have the heart to take a pair of scissors to it. I’d framed it after he left because it had hurt so badly not to see him every day. Looking into his beautiful face, I was almost thankful he wasn’t here with me, because I couldn’t stand the thought of Mosely and his friends hurting Jamie too. So I would shoulder the pain for us both, and hope that wherever he was, he was safe.

  14

  MY ROOM was dark when I awoke stiff and sore after a fitful sleep. Glancing at the bedside table, I saw it was a little past eight, which meant I’d only slept for a few hours. It just made me more tired. I struggled out of the bed and walked slowly across the hall. Even going to the bathroom hurt, and I wondered briefly if the fall had bruised a kidney or something. My steps were heavy and uneven as I made my way back to my room and sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. I’d just made myself comfortable again when Carolyn came in with the medication from Richard and a glass of ice-cold lemonade.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, as she checked my stitches and then stroked my hair. It was such a sweet, comforting gesture that I felt myself moving into her touch.

  “Like I got hit by a truck,” I admitted after swallowing the pills and taking a swig of lemonade to wash them down.

  “Richard told me about your meeting with the principal.”

  I nodded; there wasn’t anything more to be said. Senior year was going to be pure hell, but there was nothing that could be done for it, so I might as well settle in for the long haul. I had a promise to keep to Jamie, and no one was going to keep me from it—not those bigots at school, not even Richard and Carolyn.

  I would find him.

  CARRYING my brown paper bag into the cafeteria, I kept my eyes open and my head down. It hadn’t taken long to learn not to buy my lunch at school as my tray would invariably end up on the floor, my lunch splattered next to it, and I’d get detention for the disruption. At least with the brown-bag lunch, the jerks who gave me the worst time had to fight harder to get it from me before they took my “fagwich” or chided me about how good I was at sucking the crème filling out of my snack cake. It was all so childish. Why did they think I was so different from them?

  Taking my customary seat at the empty table closest to the emergency exit, I sat with my back pressed against the wall. It was always like that no matter where I was—my back was against the wall. Whether I was in the hallway, in the bathroom, even there in the cafeteria, I couldn’t leave myself unprotected. I opened the bag, took out the contents, and ate quickly, knowing my stomach would be unsettled through my next class but also not wanting to give the people who sought to hurt me any time to get at my food. Finishing up the can of pop, I looked around the cafeteria, and my attention was drawn to a group of girls on the other side of the room. Karen, Emma, and a few others were staring at me. Of course, I was used to the looks by now; I just wondered what it was they were pissed off about today.

  By keeping my head down and paying attention, I’d finally pieced together the story over the last three weeks since the school year began. Emma had seen Jamie kiss me on the lawn in front of his house, and she’d been shocked because she’d truly believed they had a future together. She’d also been disgusted that she’d been even remotely intimate with a queer, and she’d poured her heart out to her brother, Brad. From that moment on, Brad Mosely had been on a quest to restore his sister’s honor and destroy my life in the process. It seemed Emma had played the poor me card almost to a fault, and the worst part about it was that I actually felt sorry for her, even if her brother was ruining my life.

  I really felt bad for Brenda as I glanced up and saw her sitting alone at a table not far from Emma and Karen. It seemed with Emma’s newfound infamous popularity, she’d forgotten that she and Brenda were supposed to have been friends, that they were both supposed to have been wronged. Instead, because Brenda and I had only gone out once during the summer, her compassion was denied. She looked up suddenly, and our eyes met. Where I thought I would see anger or resentment, I saw only sadness.

  The one thing I couldn’t figure out, though, was how Brad Mosely had known about the tree house and that Jamie and I had made love. The only people who knew about that were gone—well, except old Preacher Moore. The man’s sermons on homosexuality were still full of fire and brimstone, and he was not too fond of me, so I guess it was possible he was the source.

  The old preacher had probably been the one to expose that most intimate detail of my life—so much for preaching about love and turning the other cheek.

  Without Jamie around, Mosely and his friends had come after me because I was the reason for the betrayal, so of course I was the bad guy. The fact that I was gay increased their hatred to almost intolerable levels.

  I just had to survive until graduation.

  Richard and Carolyn had been beside themselves worrying about me since the incident on the stairs, and I had mixed feelings about that. I was thrilled that they’d become the parents I’d needed all of my life. They loved me and wanted to protect me, treating me like they would if I were their own son. I’d never really felt that from them before; mostly I’d felt like a burden to them, a kind of substitute for what they had lost. I could have felt that way bec
ause I was scared of opening up to them just to be disappointed, or maybe I’d only truly started to appreciate them when the going got to be so hard. On the other hand, I felt guilty for worrying them.

  I tossed the lunch bag into a nearby garbage can and, being careful not to get too close to any occupied tables, left the cafeteria, and headed for the art room. True to his word, Mr. Barnes had kept his eye on me while I was at school. He’d stopped several verbal attacks since the start of the term, guys who asked if I wanted to suck them off or girls asking if I had AIDS. I had ignored them all, staying focused on my work so I could graduate and get the hell out. Deep down, I knew I could just quit and get my GED from the state, but if I was going to be on my own soon, I had to lay the best foundation I could so I’d be employable. College was out of the question, not only financially but emotionally. It just felt like I couldn’t get my life started until Jamie was back in it.

  There were still twenty minutes until the start of the next class, but I wasn’t surprised to see the art room door open. Mr. Barnes always left the door open for his students. Even without our shared nature, he was still the best teacher I had, and I’d found myself coming to art class earlier and earlier each week in order to talk to him. He was the only other gay person I knew; he was the only one who understood. At first, I thought that talking to him, being seen with him, would make things worse.

  Until I realized things couldn’t get any worse.

  “Hi, Mr. Barnes,” I said as I took my customary seat in front of his desk. He looked up, and the circles under his eyes were unmistakable, and his short brown hair, which was usually neat and stylish, looked a bit disheveled. I couldn’t help but notice that he appeared tired and maybe even upset.

  He put his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

  “Hello, Brian,” he said with an attempted smile. It was a failed attempt, but it got me to my feet and to the front of his desk. He’d done so much to protect me. I wanted to help him, but I wasn’t sure if he would let me because he was worried about how it would look to other people since he was my teacher.