by Kevin Craig
“Okay, okay,” he says. “Whatever. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I’ll go along with it. Just, don’t make me a poster boy. Okay? I’m not into that.”
We both laugh. Because we both know Alex is all about the spotlight. Anyone who chooses to pirouette across a room when he could just as easily walk enjoys a spotlight or two.
“Want to sleep over?”
“I guess. But it’s still pretty early.”
“Queer as Folk?”
“Alex, seriously? Does everything have to be thematic in your life? I’d rather watch Walking Dead or something. PS. What’s your father doing home?”
“Right?! I can’t figure out his grazing habits. I won’t tell you I think he might be dating.”
“No way. Really? Excuse me, but ew.”
Alex’s father is one of those overweight people. He has got to be at least three hundred pounds. Alex most definitely does not take after him. I always imagine this insanely tall glamorous woman out there in the wilds with Alex’s smile, cheekbones, and eyes. And then I wonder what she ever saw in Alex’s unattractive slovenly father. Ew. And then I feel like a terrible person, and I call myself Judgey McJudgerson. Mr. Mills could be a nice person, for all I know.
“There’s someone for everyone, buddy. Look at us, for instance.”
“Oh, god. Stop.”
“What? It could work,” he says. “You know I like short guys. And brunettes. And dimples. I’m a sucker for cute, too.”
“I’d actually pay you to give it a rest.” I reach for the arm of his record player to drag the needle back to the beginning of Rise Up.
“And I’d actually pay you to stop replaying that song one more time.”
“You know you love it, Alex. I’m sorry, but it speaks to me. And I think it’s exactly what we should do at school. It could be our rallying cry. We will rise up against the Wills of this world. I mean, Jesus. Why should it matter to him who we sleep with?”
“Ha. That’s a good one. You’re like Super Virgin. You sleep with no one. Oh my god, what a sad superhero that would be.”
He’s always a smartass. I drop the needle and the song restarts. And he sings along just like I do. He can’t hide his love for it, even if I do overplay it. The eighties gave us so many great and amazing things. We should honour them.
This conversation reminds me of the earlier grossness on his phone.
“Do you want to talk about Rub?”
“You can’t have it both ways, Ezra.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re friends. Okay, probably best friends. Which means not lovers. Which means I don’t have to explain my relationship habits with you. I owe you nothing.”
Typical Alex.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re being safe. These aren’t boys on that app.”
“No. They’re not. All man. But everyone on the app is looking for the same thing. Me. You may not be looking, yet. But I am.”
“And you shouldn’t be looking there. They’re probably old enough to be your fathers. And men are pigs. They will—”
“La, la, la, la. I can’t hear you. Next topic.” He pulls the needle off the record, slips the record off the turntable and returns it to its sleeve.
“I’m asking because I care. Someone has to look out for you. You’re like this lame Bambi thing stepping out onto the meadow with nobody there to tell you how stupid it is to step out into the meadow.” I grab him by the shoulders and stare him down. “It’s stupid to step out into the meadow, Alex. What’s your hurry? Don’t you want to find Mr. Right and get all domesticated with him? After you graduate? After you finish university? We’re having families now, you know.”
“Oh please, Ez.” He kisses my cheek. “Thank you for caring, but. Excuse me if I laugh. University? Families? Mr. Right? You’re just all kinds of crazy, aren’t you?”
“You can have all those things, and you know you can.”
“Those are your dreams. Not mine. I can also choose to have none of those things.” He kisses my other cheek because he likes to be dramatic that way. “I just want to play around. Get lost somewhere. Leave this small town and all the small little people in it. That’s the end of my dream. Just to leave. And keep on leaving. Ad nauseam.”
“Well, if you’re not going to listen at least wear a condom during your escapades. Please.”
“One Oh One, Ezra. Please.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides, Daddy Dearest done gave me a lifetime supply. I am required to tear through the stash. Now. Queer as Folk?”
I seriously do not know how many times we have seen every single season of this series. But still. I keep thinking it must have something to do with our future. Research. “I guess.”
CHAPTER 4
“We need at least one teacher to support this or we’ll never get it off the ground.”
Nettie thinks of everything. Always. She’s gonna make a great whatever it is she’s going to be when she grows up. Politician? CEO? She’s all details.
“Mr. Reason.” We both say it at the same time. I feel my cheeks flush. Of course we both suspect he may or may not be that way inclined. Who better to have as an ally for the gays but a gay? “Ha.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him.” She actually puts a checkmark somewhere on the piece of paper on her clipboard. Yes, she brought a clipboard to the meeting. “You have your list. Get Alex to help you with it, though. You will never get everything done by next Monday. Not on your own.”
“I got him to agree to it, Net. I’m sure that’s all we’re getting. Have you ever, in the history of our friendship, seen Alex lift a finger?”
“You have a point. But you will never be able to do everything on that list by next Monday.”
I run an inventory through my head, trying to come up with someone I could recruit to the cause. There’s like nobody who is officially out out in this whole school. It doesn’t matter who you think is out. If they don’t announce it, it isn’t a thing. What about gay-friendly?
Then, just as I’m about to give up, this name goes through my mind like a whisper. And I see its owner standing in a coffee shop giving Alex a proper grilling for being such a schmuck to his friends.
Marc Tremblay.
Would it be possible?
He might be into it. I mean, he doesn’t need to be gay to help with the club. He must be gay-friendly. It would be impossible for him not to be. Right? And he would give us star power. How many kids in our school have a crush on him? Probably all of them. Unless they’re completely crazy.
But I don’t think I ever said more than two words to the guy. I never am able to even work up the courage to ask him. Every time I’m around him my saliva dries up, I blush a thousand shades of red and I’m unable to speak.
So, yeah. No.
Unless, a miracle. They do happen. Why am I almost certain he would say yes?
“I’ll think of someone. No worries.”
“Recruit, recruit, recruit,” she says. “You find someone to help you on that list and I’ll talk to Mr. Reason.”
“Deal.”
Marc, Marc, Marc.
I have to stop reading so much into things. Is that a gay thing, or is it just me? Just because someone is nice to me, it doesn’t mean they have a thing for me. He’s just being friendly because of his fathers, which I’m still in shock about. Get real, Ezra. You’re not all that and he’s not that into you.
He’s straight.
* * * *
Five minutes later, I’m sitting in science class staring at the back of Marc’s head. I think, ‘I could do this. How hard could it be? Just ask. He’s only human.’
The pre-teacher din is deafening. But Marc isn’t participating in any of it. I tap him on the shoulder before I have a chance to chicken out. And I immediately regret it.
His eyes are just too intense.
“Hey, Caine. What’s up?” God, see. Such a guy’s guy. He’s one of those l
ast name guys. Like I’m some kind of football player with my last name blazoned across the back of my jersey.
“Hey, Marc,” I say. “What’s up?” Oh, man. Answer a question with the same question. And I just used up all of my saliva doing it. It’s gone. The fire in my cheeks probably evaporated it. I’m such a freak.
“I asked you first.” He was just slightly turned in his chair, but now he swings himself fully around to face me. “Hey.” His smile. It’s not often directed at me. In fact, I think this might be the first time. Other than that quick one back at Elixir.
The two crooked teeth on the bottom remove the potential ridiculousness of a perfect smile, making it truly perfect. The dimples finish me off.
“Hey.” That’s it. Just keep repeating him. If he’s not gay already, he’ll fall for your suave ways and come to the dark side.
I’m a loser.
He flips his head a bit to gesture toward his shoulder. “You tapped me. Did you want something, Ezra?”
At least he knows my first name.
“Um…yeah. Ah…”
“I don’t bite.” No, but you smile like Adonis. He just keeps smiling, like he knows it’s killing me. His expression is filled with anticipation as he waits for me to come out of my comatose state. Why can’t he be gay? Why?
“Oh. Huh. It’s just, I got this thing. You know. A club thing. I’m putting it together with Net. Um, Nettie. My friend. I don’t know if you know who she—”
“Yeah. I know Nettie, Ezra. She’s been going to school with us for like a hundred years.”
“Sorry. Right.”
“So what’s this club about?” He reaches a hand up to the side of his head and rubs his fingers against his temple. Then he runs the same hand through his perfect black hair and it perfectly re-messes itself into a perfect state of perfection, the way his hair always does. Perfect.
“Um. That’s the thing,” I say. Just then, Mrs. Connick comes into the room. But I still have a few minutes. She’s a bit of a space cowboy. She won’t realize she’s here for a few minutes yet. She’ll have to go through her bag, rearrange her desk, do teacherly things before she’s ready to begin. We all know this. None of us stop talking. “It’s for…well, it’s about the support of…well—”
“Is it a gay club, Ez?”
I die. My bones dissolve into liquid and my slithering corpse slowly slips from my chair and my body lies in a blob on the floor at Marc’s feet. He looks down at my blob and smiles that smile. And I die again.
“Um. Yeah.” The fire in my cheeks now is turned up to eleven. If I wasn’t dead already, I would die now from the burn.
“Okay. I’m in. Just let me know what you need. I’d be more than happy to do whatever I can for the cause, bud.”
“I knew it was a bad idea. I’m sorry I—”
“Whoa. I said yes.”
“You did? Oh. Crap. I mean, wow. That’s great.” He did. I heard what he said the first time but the shock, and the fact that I had already rehearsed my rejection speech, caused me to just spew the beginnings of a clumsy apology.
“This school could use a bit of pride. Don’t you think?”
Okay, this is just weird. Now he’s even speaking my language.
“Yeah. Of course. So you’ll help? Really?”
“Yes, really. I said I would.” He laughs and it makes me un-die. I want to look around for the camera. I must be getting Punk’d somehow.
“Okay. So…when’s a good time? Nettie gave me this really huge list of things to do. She’s a great organizer but a bit of a dictator. I could really use some help checking things off the list.”
Suddenly, it’s easier to talk to him. In the two minutes that have passed since we began the conversation, I have realized that we have our first real ally.
He tries to surreptitiously look at his phone, scrolls through a few things and looks back at me. I think he might be brighter than the sun. “First of all, Ez, what are your digits? I’ll put them into my phone and send you a text so we can connect.”
Connect. Oh my god. I died again. Connect with Marc Tremblay? Yes, please. I can’t quite remember what he said, though.
“Digits?”
“Oh right.” I spew my numbers and watch as his fingers input them into his contact list and I forget to breathe.
“Gotcha.”
Yes, you do.
“Okay. Well, I’m free after school tonight, actually. All night. If that works for you?”
“Um.” I die one more time for good measure. “Sure. That works.”
“Okay, class. Up here. Let’s go. We’re running late. All eyes, front and center please.”
How dare she interrupt our first date. What? A guy can dream, right?
Marc smiles, kind of salutes me in this somewhat awkward but totally cute way, and then turns to face the front.
And I die. One last time. Again.
Minutes into the class my phone vibrates.
Unknown:I have two dads. (-:9:15am
You:Huh?9:15am
But as I hit send, an explosive aha moment hits me. And it excites me as much as it crushes me.
Unknown: lol. It’s me. Marc.9:16am
You:Oh. Yeah. Of course.9:17am
Unknown:I’m not gay. But my dads are. (-:9:17am
And just like that, he breaks my heart. It’s true. Alex was right. He’s not gay. He’s just okay with me being gay. He’s being raised by gays. He’s a friendly. He’s helping me for his dads. Not for me. He isn’t in love with me.
He turns and smiles. But this time, as bright as it is—as perfect as it is—it feels like a consolation smile. And I want to cry. But I also want to smack myself for living in the kind of fantasy world it would take to support a reality where I would be in a relationship with Marc Tremblay.
“Okay, so let’s turn to page 181 of our textbooks. This is going to be a fun one.” And if I wasn’t dead from heartache I think I would kill Mrs. Connick right now.
CHAPTER 5
Alex seriously needs to learn how to bend. He’s the most rigid person I know. I don’t even want to tell him about Marc. He’s too busy telling me he’s not going to have anything to do with putting the club together to listen to me, anyway.
We’re standing at my locker after school and he’s accidentally seen my checklist. And since his first glance at it, he’s been non-stop ranting at me.
“And if she thinks, for one minute, that I’m going to actually make some stupid treats to bribe people to come to her stupid club, she has another thing coming. She has some nerve. We invite her to help, and suddenly she thinks she can take over. Rice Krispies squares won’t save the world, Ezra.”
“Invite her to help? This has always been her idea, Alex. Get real. You were against it from the beginning.”
He’s not listening to a word I say.
“She thinks she can swoop in just in time to take all the glory. Such a breeder. They need to claim everything for their own. It won’t be a gay club, Ez. It’ll be a straight club where they sort of tolerate gays. I can see it now. With Nettie at the—”
“Please shut up.” The look of shock on his face is almost comical. He’s holding back the barrage of words building up. But I know he won’t be able to stay quiet forever. So I squeeze in a tidbit about Marc in the hopes of changing the subject. He sees a squirrel and it’s over. “Marc is on the planning committee. I don’t need your help, so don’t worry. I won’t be asking you to help me with this despicable checklist.”
He stops everything he’s doing. I mean, he even stops breathing.
I tap his chin to close his mouth, then walk away and he follows me.
“Yep. That’s right. I’ll be working with Marc Tremblay on this one. You’re off the hook.”
His face lights up and he smiles like a maniac. But then he clues in to the full meaning of what I just said. “Wait. Of course I want to help, Ez. We’re a team. When are we meeting with Marc?”
So typically Alex.
�
�Are you serious? You don’t want to do this. A minute ago you were ready to kill Nettie just for writing the list.”
“It’s Marc Tremblay.” I’ll kill him.
“There’s more to it than that. Don’t go jumping to conclusions. He’s as straight as I always imagined him to be.”
“Are you sure? Why would he bother putting himself out there and risking his reputation if he weren’t using the club as a way to finally come out? Hey, where are we going, anyway?”
Did I mention, typical Alex? Everyone is gay. Everyone loves him. And he never wants to do anything unless he can somehow benefit from the doing-of-the-thing.
I ignore his question about where we’re going. Instead of explaining why Marc would give a shit, I take my phone out and open the text thread I had with Marc in science class.
Marc Tremblay:I have two dads. (-:9:15am
“Holy shitty little kitties! I told you. Didn’t I tell you he had two dads?”
“Right?! Yes, you did. But him saying it makes it more legit.”
We burst out the double doors at the end of the hall and we’re free for another day.
“So he’s not…I mean, he’s straight? Did he say, even?”
“He did. He said he’s straight but his two dads are gay.”
“Pshaw. Let’s not take his word for it. Maybe the boy pines for you like you pine for him.”
“You’re insane.”
“Even still,” he says. “I really should be there. Just in case. You wouldn’t recognize a pass if it hit you in the ass.”
“Ha. Yeah, okay. At least I don’t get my passes off of dirty dating apps. Rub? Really.”
“You don’t have to get nasty.” He’s right, of course. He just drives me nuts. All of a sudden he’s interested. Now he can dish. He’s like a teenage Perez. Only, not as interesting or funny. More manipulative and self-obsessed. Sometimes, nasty seems almost called for.
“Fair enough. But back off. Please. You either want to help or you don’t. You can’t change your mind because it suddenly gets more interesting.”
