by Steve Berman
Will swallowed again. “That looks pretty high.”
“It’s terrifying,” Angie said. “But it’s totally fun.”
“I’m not good with heights,” Will said. He was still looking. In profile, you really noticed his eyelashes. I looked up. He was right, the outcropping was a good forty feet high, and the face was nothing but rock. You had to really hoof yourself over the edge when you jumped. One year Angie had ended up with stitches in her foot from not quite clearing the rocks at the bottom. From up at the top, looking down it felt more like eighty feet. I think it was the way the sky reflected in the water.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s an epic jump. It took us years to get up the nerve.” I was racing through my cereal, and done a few moments later. When I put my bowl down, Angie rose.
Barb looked at Will. “You sure you don’t want to give it a try?”
He nodded. “Very.”
She got up, and I followed suit, tugging my shirt off and avoiding looking at Will. No matter how hard I tried, I was always a little embarrassed when a guy was looking at me without my shirt on. I hoped the breeze was covering my reek.
“We’ll be up there in a little bit.” Barb smiled at him. “And then we’ll swim back here right after.”
“Maybe I’ll take the bowls back and then come back down here to watch.” He shivered, obviously uncomfortable. “Enjoy.”
*
“I wouldn’t have pegged him for a wuss,” Angie said.
I rolled my eyes, following the girls as they climbed the steep path. “He’s not a wuss. He just doesn’t like heights. May I remind you that we basically had to throw you off the top the first time you did it?”
Angie laughed. “Legit.”
Barb said, “He seems nice.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He does.”
The two girls looked at each other, and I felt my face turning red. They laughed, and I sighed.
“So you should ask him out,” Angie said.
“Right,” I said, nodding. “Because straight guys love that, and it won’t make the next three weeks awkward at all.”
“You think he’s straight?” Angie said.
“You don’t?” I said. I hoped my voice had come out more even than it had sounded to me.
“Wager on it?” she asked.
“First bottle?” I said.
“Deal.” We shook. For the past few years, we’d made a game out of sneaking a bottle of beer here and there from our parents. So far, they hadn’t noticed.
When we were at the top of the path. Angie paused, looking at me. Barb pointed towards the edge.
“On three?” she asked.
Angie nodded. I smiled.
“One,” she said.
“Two,” I said.
“Three!” Barb said, and the three of us ran off down the path, towards the edge. I jumped our as far as I could, and for just a second it felt like I was surrounded by nothing but sunlight. There’s a moment when you’re in the air, and you look down and see the water and you’re just hanging. Then gravity reminds you who’s boss and you go down, laughing and screaming, toward the lake.
I gripped my legs, cannonballing, and hit the water with a huge splash. It felt awesome—the water was just cool enough, and I let myself float under the surface for a couple of seconds before kicking off. Everything was blue, and I swam back up into the light.
I broke the water and yelled in triumph. The girls were already at the surface, and laughing. I was grinning like an idiot as we swam back to the dock, showing off a little on the way with some butterfly strokes.
It didn’t hurt that I saw Will was watching from the dock.
*
“You’re all crazy,” Will said as we swam up. He was standing and had his arms crossed. He stepped back as we started to climb up onto the dock, splashing water everywhere. We grabbed our towels and wiped ourselves down.
“The best thing about short hair is drying it,” Angie said, rubbing her head vigorously and grinning at Barb, who was squeezing her long hair out and rubbing it with her towel.
“The water was so nice,” I said, grinning. It’s amazing how much more confident you feel when you don’t smell like ripe gym socks.
“I’ll change into trunks later,” Will said. “And walk out from the shore like a normal person. You guys are crazy,” he repeated. Somehow, I liked the way he was saying it. He crouched back down again and sat down on the edge of the dock, letting his feet dangle in the water.
I shrugged back into my shirt and sat on my towel, letting the sun hit my face. I glanced at Will, who was looking out at the water. His eyelashes were so long. I glanced away, and Angie winked at me. I tried to ignore her grin as my face turned red.
“So what’s up for tonight?” Barb said.
I looked at the sky. “Not many clouds so far—we might have a good night for stars.”
“Toasting marshmallows?” Angie suggested.
“Do people really do that?” Will asked.
Angie leaned back. “Holy crap. You are from Toronto, aren’t you?”
Will raised one eyebrow again. God, that was cute. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Angie laughed. “I like you. You can stay.” He shook his head, but smiled. “Seriously, though,” she said. “We do roast marshmallows. And we tell stories around the campfire, too. Or, well, Barb does, because she’s good at it. She’s our resident writer.”
“You write?” Will asked.
“I’d like to,” Barb admitted.
“She won a fiction contest in the newspaper,” I added.
Will seemed impressed. “That’s cool. What was it about?”
It occurred to me I didn’t know. “You know, you never did send it to me,” I said.
“She didn’t?” Angie said. She smacked Barb’s shoulder. “Naughty girl.”
I frowned. Barb looked at me, blushing. “I used your name for one of the characters.”
“That’s really cool,” I said. “What was it about?”
“It was a love story,” Angie said. “Except you died at the end.”
“Harsh. Wait.” I looked at her. “You read it?”
Barb put her hands over her face. “They read it over the school P.A.”
Angie was giggling. “You’re quite the kisser,” she said to me.
“Really?” I looked at Barb. “That’s good to know. Did I use tongue?”
“Ryan’s kiss took her by surprise,” Barb was quoting, I gathered. “Cassie hadn’t expected it, but the moment she felt his hands on her shoulders, she knew she wanted it.” Will and Angie were both laughing, and Barb was shaking her head at my expression. “I just sort of put your name in as a place-holder, but then I got used to it…”
“And then killed me off.” I crossed my arms and frowned. “So you don’t think I’m a good kisser?”
“We’ve never kissed!” Barb laughed. “And we’re not really likely to, are we?”
I saw Will blink and saw Barb jolt when she realized what she’d said. I felt myself tense up, and my face was burning.
Angie leapt in for the rescue.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Did I tell you guys Chris got his braces stuck in my earring?”
As Angie told her story, I watched Will out of the corner of my eye. He was an attentive listener, and laughed as Angie mimicked her boyfriend trying to explain things to his orthodontist. He’d pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them—they were great arms. Will absolutely made time for the gym. He glanced at me and caught me looking, and I looked away, feeling my face burn. Well, this was what I wanted, right? This was being out?
I looked at Will again, and wondered what his favourite Arcade Fire song was.
*
I built the fire on the beach, making a kind of tepee out of the logs and filling the underneath with kindling. It caught on my second attempt, and I poked it into a decent blaze. On the shore of the lake, the wind was just enough to work with the smoke to keep most of
the bugs at bay. I’d still worn a hoodie and sweatpants, just in case. Our “sitting log” from last summer was still there, and I dragged it closer to the fire.
“I am so sorry,” Barb said, coming down the path. She had a red sweater on, and jeans.
I smiled at her. “It’s okay. I’m out—that’s sort of the point.” I looked behind her. “Angie not with you?”
“She was playing Scrabble with her folks—she said she’d be down once she won.” She looked up. “You were right about the stars.”
I looked up. It was a gorgeous night. The moon wasn’t up yet, and the stars were incredible. I moved over a bit on the log and Barb sat beside me. She leaned her head on my shoulder.
“So that was the first time I ever outed anyone,” she said.
“As a journalist, I expect you to hone your skills on closeted conservatives.”
She laughed. “I really am sorry.”
I put my arm around her. “Honestly, it’s fine. And hey—it’s not like he bugged out or anything. He was cool.”
“Do you think he’ll come?” she asked.
I looked at the marshmallows. “I hope so. Because otherwise, I’m going to eat that whole bag.”
“If I have to, I will eat half. It will be a tough punishment, but I will endure it,” Barb said solemnly.
We grinned.
“Did you bring sticks for them?” she asked.
“I found the unfolded coat-hangers from last year.” I pointed.
“Excellent.” Barb took one, and I opened the bag.
“Triple ‘queen’ for the win!”
We both turned. Angie strode out onto the beach, one fist in the air.
“There’s only two of us queens here,” I said.
“Ha and ha again,” Angie said, coming to the log and sitting. “I tripled ‘queen’ at Scrabble.”
“And I’m sure you did so with reserved grace,” I said.
“Pft.” She smirked. “I danced the ‘take that’ dance.” Angie rose and did a kind of taunting touchdown dance that had Barb and I laughing and holding our stomachs.
“You look like a drunk belly dancer,” I gasped out.
She stuck her tongue out at me and joined us on the log. “Mallow me.”
Barb passed her the marshmallow she’d already speared on the wire.
“If you have to do the dance before you get a marshmallow, I think I’ll skip out on this.”
We all turned. Will was just at the edge of the trees, and though it was hard to see by the light of the campfire, I was pretty sure he was smiling. I felt myself relax a notch.
“No dancing required,” Barb said.
The only space left on the log was beside me, and I tried not to react when Will sat down. I speared a mallow on one of the wires and handed it to him. He watched as Angie and Barb put theirs over the flame, then followed suit. He was still wearing his T-shirt, but he’d put on a pair of faded gray sweatpants—they looked well worn. I wondered if he played any sports. Maybe we could go for a run. I got another mallow ready and put it over the fire.
“You want to wait until it’s just a little brown all around the outside,” I said, turning my marshmallow around slowly. “And then you can peel off the skin and get a second go at it.”
He looked at me, but nodded, and tried to mimic what I was doing.
When we pulled our marshmallows out of the fire, he watched me skin mine—the browned portion came off in a caramelized layer—and then he skinned his own. I ate mine.
“Now it feels like summer,” Barb said, licking her fingers.
“Okay,” Will said, chewing. “That is good.”
“Tomorrow night, spider dogs,” Angie declared.
Will leaned forward slightly, and said. “What’s a spider dog?”
“Oh my God, Toronto is like…so out of touch.” Angie shook her head.
“It’s a hot dog,” I said. “But you sort of slice it, and it curls up and looks like a spider.”
“So you jump off cliffs and eat spiders.” Will shook his head. “You guys are brave.”
“Doing the leap was nothing after Chad Donovan,” I said, and then caught myself.
“Who?” he asked.
“Just a jerk at school,” I said.
“He was a complete asshole,” Barb said, surprising me. “He treated Ryan like crap, said stuff, posted on his wall—it got pretty ugly for a while. Generally just a miserable human being.”
Will was quiet for a while. “He still around?”
“He graduated,” I said. “I think he’s recruiting for the conservatives now. Or a clown. One of those.”
Will laughed, and again it struck me how deep his laugh was. I smiled at him.
“You’re flaming,” Angie said. I flushed, looking at her—just because I’m smiling at Will, it doesn’t mean I’m—oh. My marshmallow was on fire. I tugged it out and blew on it until it went out, then ate the gooey mess, blackened parts and all. Will managed to skin his again, then ate the lump that was left on his third run through.
“So tell us about you,” Barb said. Will looked at her, surprised.
“Barb’s going to be a journalist,” I said.
Will smiled. “What do you want to know?”
I bit my tongue.
“What are you into?” Barb asked.
“Music,” Will said, without even taking a second to think about it.
“Epic band,” I said, pointing at his shirt.
“The best.” He nodded.
“And?” Barb leaned forward.
Will laughed. “I don’t know. I went to an arts school, so I got to do a lot more music stuff than I could do in a regular high school. And art. I like sculpting, but I suck at painting.” He sighed. “I’m going to miss my crew. We had this great little group.” He grew more animated as he talked, and started moving his hands. “We had a band, and played for the assemblies and stuff. There were art shows, and writing groups.” He nodded at Barb. “It was a cool school.”
“You are not trading up,” I said. He flashed that crooked grin again.
“Mallow,” Angie said, and I handed her another marshmallow.
We roasted half the bag, mostly quiet, though every now and then Angie would break the silence with “Oh my God, I forgot to tell you guys…” and go off on another story about Chris. It was obvious from how much he embarrassed her in public that she adored him. Or at least that was the way it seemed to me.
Will didn’t add much often, but when he did, we were all rapt. He had a way of talking that was somehow confident—like, when he said something was cool, you knew that it was absolutely cool. When it got a little cooler, he worked on the fire, asking us what to do and listening to our advice. He wasn’t all macho and didn’t assume he knew anything.
He was awesome.
Barb turned in first, and Angie went next, doing her “take that” dance all the way back up to the path. Will chuckled beside me, and I watched the flames of the fire, now growing low. It wasn’t an awkward quiet, just the two of us, and I was glad. Will was cool with the whole gay thing—which made sense if he’d been at an art school.
“Are there many gay guys at your school?”
It was like he was reading my mind. “No. Or, well, probably. But I’m the only out guy. I’m going to start a GSA next year, though. My track coach, Ms. Fletch, is going to sponsor one.”
“You run track?” It came out a little surprised.
“In between redecorating rooms and designing ball gowns, yeah.”
He laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m just kidding,” I said. “I like to joke about it. People seem to handle it better that way.”
“Except for Chad Donovan?”
I was surprised he remembered the name. “Yeah, well. Except for him. Hence the GSA.”
“There are some plusses to being at an art school,” he said, and reached over and took my hand.
“I bet,” I said, distracted by the feel of his fingers
squeezing mine. His fingers were rougher than mine, which surprised me, and made my stomach do little flips. I looked down, convinced I was turning red and glad for the fire. Will was being really cool. There aren’t many straight guys confident enough to give a supportive hand squeeze to a gay guy spilling his guts. Except it wasn’t a hand squeeze. Seconds were passing. It was moving past hand-squeezing and into hand-holding. I looked up at him, and he raised one eyebrow.
I clued in. “Oh!”
He laughed. “Yeah.”
My stomach was in free fall. His hand was very warm. I realized I was sitting perfectly still—I felt like if I moved, something would break. He might shift. He might let go. I didn’t have the slightest idea if I should be saying something. I hoped I shouldn’t, because right now all I wanted to do was tell him his hand felt awesome, and that would probably ruin the moment.
“Ryan?” Will said.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the marshmallows.”
He let go of my hand—I tried not to make any whimpering noises—but then he wrapped his arm around me. I leaned against him. Will started telling me about his old school, his group of friends, the bands and music they’d play and what it was like to tell his folks their only kid was gay. I listened, then told him my own stories and about Brady’s blog and James, feeling the heat from Will’s arm around my shoulder and trying to memorize everything. Will liked the Scissor Sisters, too. My stomach refused to stop flipping, but my hands slowly stopped shaking. We talked, mostly about nothing important, and I felt normal for the first time in a very long while.
We watched the fire until it died.
*
Running the loop the next morning, I replayed the evening. Was I supposed to have offered him a turn leaning on me? I hadn’t, and now I was pretty sure that made me look needy or clingy or something. Or maybe just neurotic. I was muttering to myself as I was running, and I wasn’t really focusing on the run. It took a lot longer than it should have, and I was barely out of breath when I got back to the cabins.
Had I really told him about chatting online with James? And that coffee thing with Brady? Why had I told him I’d gone on a date with a fifteen-year-old? I had to be mental. It was the only explanation.
