by Kevin Craig
I give Marc a look of disgust. “Table manners. Gross.”
“Oops,” he says, with his mouth still full. “Sorry.”
“Apologize when your mouth isn’t full of meat.”
“That’s what he said,” Alex says. We all laugh despite of ourselves. Leave it to Alex to be a pig.
“Look,” Marc says, after swallowing the last of his mouthful and putting his sandwich down. I just know Gary made him that sandwich. He’s probably at home right now wondering if his boy is enjoying his sandwich and he’s fretting and worrying about how he could have made it better. God, I like Marc’s dad. “Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it. It’ll be whatever it’ll be.”
“Que Sera Sera,” Alex says, in a sing-song tone, in agreement with Marc. So nice that they’re getting along.
“Exactly,” Marc says.
“I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“You people need to eat your food,” Marc says, before taking another big bite of his ridiculously huge and perfect sandwich. “Strike that,” he says, with his mouth filled with food. Again. Ew. “All of you need to eat your food, except Alex. That’s just disgusting.”
I look down at Alex’s plate and at his cold cardboard cafeteria pizza and nod in agreement.
“I’m just afraid nobody shows up,” I say, swirling my salad around on my plate a bit with my plastic fork. “We worked hard on this. I’m not expecting a full classroom, or anything. I just don’t want to be sitting in a room of empty chairs staring at your three ugly faces and Mr. Reason. That would kill me. And I know that would kill Alex.”
“Yep,” he says. “This pizza looks so good. I just can’t bring myself to eat it. I have a billion butterflies in my belly and they ain’t leaving any room for pepperoni, if you know what I mean.”
We all kind of look to him and groan. Only Alex would look down at that cholesterol-packed mess and think it looks good. One day his metabolism is going to catch up with him and he’s gonna blow up. Like father, like son. He’ll be that guy, the one who’ll need a crane just to get him out of bed. They’ll come in with a backhoe or something and rip off the side of his house to remove him. Oh my God. That’s it…he’ll be his father.
“I’m kind of with Marc on this one,” Nettie says. But, like Alex and me, she’s also too nervous to eat. “Why don’t we just wait and see? We might be pleasantly surprised.”
To prove to us that she actually believes what she’s saying, she starts to eat her fruit cocktail. Tiny bites, but still.
“So, Ezra,” Marc says. He’s all smiles now. The carcass of a sandwich is nowhere in sight and he has zero food in his mouth. “Nettie was telling me about Saturday.”
I immediately turn fifty shades of gah. Totally humiliated. Totally embarrassed, like I’m two-timing him or something. Which is completely idiotic.
“Yeah, Ez,” Alex says. But Marc sounds excited. Alex sounds angry, hurt, and, scathing. So, basically, typical Alex. “What gives? How come I had to hear it from Nettie? Did you forget my phone number, or something? My email? I’m hurt, I tell ya. Hurt to the bone.”
“I don’t think that’s a saying, Alex,” I say. “You’re probably forgetting that I’m still pissed at you.” He goes to say something, to defend himself no doubt. But I put up my hand. “Don’t bother. We’re never going to agree about that. If you so much as mention Will’s name right now I will end you.”
“Whoa, what?” Marc says. “Will? I was talking about the kid you met at the movies. Isn’t his name Simon?”
“Oh,” Alex says, all smarmy and Alexy, like Perez with the scoop. “You don’t know.”
Before Alex has a chance to dish the gossip out to Marc, I put my hand in his face again. “Stop.”
Alex pinches his face up into an expression of hurtful indignation. Marc shrugs in confusion. He doesn’t know anything about Will’s dad. I’m kind of surprised none of us said anything about it to him. I’m guessing we all know he’s too honorable for gossip and…and what? It feels like that picture is carrying a whole buttload of potential with it. Blackmail, devastation, whatever.
“Weren’t you there when we found out Alex was playing with the big kids?” I ask. Marc continues with his look of confusion. “Alex is on Rub. The gay dating app. The slut app. For men. Not boys.”
“Jesus, Alex,” Marc says. “That is so wrong. What’s wrong with you?”
“Hey,” Alex says, “You’re still on probation, buddy. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“First,” Marc says. “That’s bullshit. Second, I’m concerned for you. That is crazy dangerous. You’re seventeen. You have no idea who’s using that app.”
“Yes I do,” Alex says. Before I can interject, he blurts it out. “Will Severe’s dad. That’s who.”
“Thanks, asshole.” I give him the dirtiest look I can muster, which is pretty dirty. “Look, Marc, I asked Alex not to do anything with the picture.”
Marc is just sitting there with his jaw on the table. Shock can contort even a gorgeous face into a mask of ugly. I think the new might be wearing off on my feelings for Marc. I wonder if it’s because of Simon?
“And I told Ezra,” Alex says. He sort of comically waves his hands in front of Marc’s face. “Do I have your attention? I told Ezra the next time that loser so much as looks at me the wrong way I’m gonna whip out that picture and crush him like a tulip.”
Even Marc laughs at that one.
“Alex, Alex, Alex,” Nettie says. “I think you mean bug. Or grape, even. Not a tulip. Wow.”
“Who the hell cares what I crush him like? You people are too rigid. You’re like the Saying Police, or something. The point is, he crosses the line with me one more time and I’m going to crush him.”
“I think you all have to back up,” Marc says. “What picture? Will’s dad? What’s going on?”
“Quick recap,” I say. “Shut up, Alex. Alex hooked up with Will Severe’s dad on Rub, only he didn’t know it was Will’s dad until after they had sex and the douche was in the bathroom having a shower. Alex snooped through his pants, found his wallet, and, took a picture of his driver’s license for evidence.”
“Holy crap,” Marc says. He turns to Alex. “Dude, you cannot do that to a person. Will might be a lot of things. Asshole is right at the top of the list. But, still. You can’t do that. That would kill him. I mean, like, seriously kill him. Alex. Please. Have some compassion.”
“Like the kind of compassion he had for me the thousand billion times he smashed my face in?”
“No,” Nettie says. “The kind of compassion that doesn’t completely destroy a person for ever and ever. That kind. Put yourself in his shoes.”
“I’m gay, Nettie. Why should I care if my father’s gay or not. I’d be happy.”
“Not if he was married to your mom and your family was together one day and completely destroyed and torn apart the next.”
“Listen to Marc, Alex,” I say.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Lunch is over,” Alex says. As if he planned it, the first warning bell goes off. Saved by the bell, literally. “I’ll see you guys after school at the inaugural first official meeting of the Rainbow Alliance Club!”
His bubbly delivery does nothing to lift us from the overall feeling of doom we’ve all just sunk into. Not even Marc can talk him out of using that pic. It still looms over us like a ticking time-bomb. I don’t want to be around when it finally goes off.
Alex is up from his chair and gone before anyone speaks. He’s the master of exits. I look at his spot at the table and all that remains is his paper plate with a sad and lonely smile of pizza crust sitting in the middle of it.
We didn’t even get to talk about Simon.
“Well, at least we have the club to look forward to,” Marc says. “Anyone else feel like the world is about to come to an end?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Will Severe’s world, that is.”
“Shit,” Nettie says.
We get up and our chairs scrape across the floor in tandem. As I dump the rest of my salad into the trashcan, I feel even worse than I did when I only had the club meeting on my mind. Now, I’m stuck feeling bad for Will again. Sometimes I absolutely hate Alex Mills.
CHAPTER 21
I’ve counted four people who have walked into the classroom so far. Well, four not including Alex, myself, Marc, Nettie, and Mr. Reason. I’m trying not to break into a smile. Should I even be happy about four people? I mean, it’s significant to me at least. We got through to at least four people with Gary’s message and our own campaigning. This is good.
Five.
“Hey, guys,” Hank says as he enters the classroom. He’s all smiles. He comes and sits down beside me. “Hi, Ezra. How’s it going?”
“Hi, Hank,” I say. He’s so cute. I’m betting everyone in his life treats him like a little brother. Poor kid, not always what people want. I know how it feels to be shorter than mostly everyone else in the world. There’s nothing worse than kids your own age treating you like a little kid just because you’re shorter than them. “How’s it going? Congratulations again on winning the naming contest. I love the club’s new name. Thank you.”
“No,” Hank says. “Thank you. It was a pretty obvious name. Wasn’t expecting to win the bike. I mean, that’s a pretty amazing prize for any contest.”
“That’s Mr. Tremblay. If it was up to us, the winner would have won a lollipop or a chocolate bar or something. Ha. Mr. Tremblay threw a bucket-load of money into the club.”
“Yeah,” Hank says. “He’s like that. I always get all my best birthday presents from the Tremblays. Well, from Marc.”
“Oh yeah, you’re neighbours.”
“Well, not next-door or anything. But, yeah.”
“That’s cool. His dads are awesome,” I say. I look around and three more people have walked in since we began talking. Hank smiles, gets up and goes to the table at the back of the room where we set up drinks and snacks. Mr. Reason’s idea.
Two more people.
Alex slides onto the chair beside me. He’s been sitting silently by himself since we arrived. I can tell how nervous he is. He’s jittery like crazy. I mean, even more so than usual.
“They’re coming,” he whispers to me. “Ezra, they’re coming.”
I get a rash of goosebumps as I listen to the excitement and fear in his voice. All I can do is smile and nod.
“I can’t believe they’re actually coming.”
“I know, bud,” I finally say. He starts crying. Right then and there tears start to run down his face and I can see the stress and worry draining from his body. “I know. It’s okay. We did good. It’s okay, Alex.”
“I know, I know,” he says. “Oh my God, I’m just so relieved.”
“What’s going on over here?” Mr. Reason says as he comes up behind us and puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “You okay, Alex?”
“I’m good, Mr. Reason,” Alex says as he wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “Just relieved.”
“Of course. I get it,” Mr. Reason says. “Well, including us we now have…” he looks around the room, pointing and counting. “Nineteen. Nineteen people. That’s success in my book.”
“Mine too,” I say. As I say this two girls walk in together, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
“We just broke my goal,” Alex whispers into my ear. “The goal in my head was twenty, Ezra. We did it.”
“Yeah, we did,” Mr. Reason says as he walks around the circle of chairs and heads to the door. “Hello everyone,” he says to the group. “If you could all just pull up a chair, that would be great. If there are not enough chairs, we can make some room and you could scooch in somewhere. There’s lots of space to make the circle bigger.”
He closes the door and makes his way back to us. There’s a din as everyone moves towards the circle and takes their seats. Every single person looks a bit nervous. I can’t place the look on their faces, but it’s there. Like, fear or something…but more.
“Okay,” Mr. Reason says. “Shall we begin?” He looks to Marc and Alex. “Gentlemen?”
I wonder if it was pre-planned that they would open the club together.
“Absolutely,” Marc says. As everyone else is finally seated, Marc stands up and moves to the middle of the circle. “Welcome to the first official open meeting of the club.”
“The Rainbow Alliance Club,” Alex says as he rises to his feet and joins Marc in the spotlight. They are both beaming with pride and excitement. I watch them as Marc casually puts his arm on Alex’s shoulder and everybody looks on.
The thought that comes to me doesn’t really make sense, but as I see the two of them standing up in front of everyone like this, I think to myself, ‘Pride must be a place.’ Because this right here, this moment in time, this room…this is the place. This is pride. It feels like my face is cracking, I’m smiling so hard. In my head, I sing a couple lines of my favourite song, ‘it’s time for celebration…spirits time has come.’ And I also think, ‘we did it.’
“Yes,” Marc says. “The Rainbow Alliance Club. Thanks so much for coming. As I look around the room I have no idea who among you is gay, straight, or otherwise. And you know what? I don’t care. Which is totally the point of the club.
“If you’re here as an LGBTTIQQ2SA person looking for support, welcome. If you’re here as a supporter of LGBTTIQQ2SA people, amazing. Thank you for coming and showing your support.” He looks down at a little piece of paper in his hand with the spectrum letters on it. He waves it in the air and smirks, embarrassed. “Sorry. Dad said I better get these letters right. Anyway, as you probably already know, I come from an LGBTTIQQ2SA household. So any time I see other straights—like myself—accepting the LGBTTIQQ2SA members of the community it makes me incredibly happy. Thank you.”
“Damn,” Alex says. He’s still standing beside Marc, luxuriating in the fact that Marc still has his arm on him. Okay, that might just be my interpretation of things. Maybe Alex doesn’t even realize there’s an arm on his shoulder. Yeah right. Who wouldn’t appreciate wearing Marc as an accoutrement? “I had this great speech planned, but seriously, Marc said it all. I don’t know how to follow that.
“I just want to say,” Alex says. Typical Alex. I have nothing to say followed by the novel that he has to say. Cute. “You all know I’m gay. Quelle surprise. Marc and I talked about opening up the first club meeting together to demonstrate that gays and straights can in fact be friends. But I think, just by coming here today, you all are demonstrating this fact.
“I don’t want to single anyone out and say,” he starts pointing at kids one after the other, “you’re gay, you’re gay, you’re straight. Because it doesn’t matter.”
“Where are you going with this, Mr. Mills?” Mr. Reason says, with a mild degree of concern. I have the same concern. I’m giving Alex about thirty more seconds before he totally kills the vibe in the room.
I look around and there’s a mixture of confusion and disinterest. I try to send Marc a mind-message to take the stage from Alex, but he’s not listening.
“No worries, Mr. Reason. It’s all good. Sorry all. What I’m trying to say is that you’re all welcome. We gays need the support of straights with enough courage to give it. I’m just guessing that some of you here today are straight. Like Marc, I just wanted to say thank you for joining us. This club wouldn’t work without you. So thank you. I’ll let Mr. Reason take it from here. I always blow these things as soon as I open my mouth.”
I don’t know how he does it, but nobody in the room uses this amazing opportunity to make a joke at Alex’s last outrageously stupid line.
Marc pats him on the shoulder and takes his seat. Alex stays up there to receive the applause of his people.
God. What a dork.
“Actually,” Mr. Reason says. “Ezra Caine is going to take it from here, Alex.”
“Oh really,” Alex mouths to me as he takes his seat.
“Yes, really,
” I mouth back.
I stand up and I swear it feels like my legs just turned to jelly.
As I’m about to talk, though, there’s a loud thonk somewhere behind me, followed by another. I turn and see a large smear of egg yoke dripping down the window in the classroom door. There’s a shriek from the hallway outside and the sound of running shoes thwapping against the floor tiles. And laughter. Then an almost inaudible, “Faggots!”
“Not a single person moves a muscle,” Mr. Reason says. I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, but it comes out almost as a yell and a threat. I step back not from what’s happened at the door, but from Mr. Reason’s obvious fury. “That did not happen. Do you all understand me? I said, do you all understand me?”
In unison, the room responds, “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you,” he says. He is just holding it together. If this were a cartoon there would be smoke coming from his ears right now. “Mr. Caine? Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reason.” I try not to look at the window. It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. “Okay. So, now for the official reason behind our first meeting. We want to have a presence at this year’s Homecoming, but we don’t know what that presence should be. And, since it’s almost time for Homecoming we’re going to need everyone here to help us out. This is a brainstorming session.
“Any ideas?” I say, looking around the room at a whole bunch of blank faces. As I continue to scan the room, though, I come upon a face that’s a ray of sunshine amidst the fog.
“I’m guessing you have an idea,” I say. I can’t place the guy. He looks nerdish, but cute enough. The sprinkle of freckles across the alabaster skin of his nose is adorable. He could be a Weasley. His orange hair is cut short, but not in a cool way. He’s wearing what my mother would call slacks. My first guess is that he’s ally, not gay, but what do I know? I’m the guy who fantasized for three years that Marc was gay, even though every sign pointed to straight. I give up guessing.
“I do,” he says. “My name’s Brad.” He stands up. “Brad Simpson. Before I tell you my idea, I kinda need to know…are we confidential here?”
