by Kevin Craig
The entire table goes quiet now. Even the tables around the jock table go silent. It’s a cone of silence that spreads in concentric circles away from us.
As we make our way to the door, I look to my own table and see the surprise on Nettie and Marc’s faces. They did not see this coming.
Neither did I.
“I just wanted to talk to you about football,” I say to Will as the caf doors close behind us. I look past him and see that half the cafeteria is looking back at me. Everyone knows what happened off school grounds that day. No doubt, they’re hoping for another fight. Lunchtime entertainment at its best.
“How is he?” Will says. But he doesn’t merely ask the question. It comes out almost like this primal plea. He’s totally destroyed. The words come out shaky and his eyes are begging me to let him know that everything’s going to be alright. “Is he okay?”
“Who, Alex?” I say. I take the Captain Obvious Award for the day. “Seriously? He’s okay, Will. I’m sure he’s milking this for as long as he can just to get more time off sch—”
“Really? So you think he’s good?”
Clearly, he has no idea.
“Dude. I’ve seen him a couple times. I won’t lie. You destroyed his face. But in a totally non-lethal way. Trust me. He’s fine.”
“Oh my God. I can’t believe it.” The relief that pours off him is palpable. Whatever scenario he built in his head about Alex’s condition must have been a thousand times worse than what it really is. This whole time, and he’s had no idea. I watch as his body sort of deflates in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. “I thought I killed him, Ezra. I just wanted him dead. I never lost my shit like that in my life.”
I give him a moment to catch his breath and collect himself. I notice that pretty much everyone has gone back to their business in the cafeteria. I guess they must have realized we aren’t going to be taking out our swords, or something.
“Thanks, man,” Will eventually says when it sinks in that he didn’t kill Alex.
“Think nothing of it, dude,” I say. “I have no idea why he’s not back at school. I’ve seen him a couple times. I mean, he’s pretty beat up…but nothing really that should keep him from going to school. Not anymore.”
“Cool. Wait. What did you want, anyway, Caine.” The veil starts to creep back over reality and I have a feeling that whatever the wordless truce we have between us is, it’s evaporating fast.
“Football,” I say.
“Yeah? What of it?”
“Well, there’s a rumor going around that you might be thinking about quitting the team.”
“So. Why the hell should you care?”
His tough-guy bravado has almost completely taken over now, and I feel the window of opportunity between us closing. In a few minutes it might be shut solid forever.
“I just…Will, I don’t want you to do that. That’s all.”
He looks at me and his whole face scrunches up in an expression of perplexity. “Huh?”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. I mean, with your dad and all, but—”
“I don’t want to talk about my dad. I think you better stop talking before you say something you can’t take back and I do something I’ll regret. I’m already in enough trouble as it is. And why should you care, anyway.”
“I tried to stop him from doing it.”
“Tried to stop who?”
“Alex,” I say. He scrunches his face up in confusion. “He kept threatening to show you that picture. I begged him not to.”
“So how long did everyone know about this? Were you all just waiting for the right moment to destroy me, then?”
“No, no,” I say. He’s totally getting the wrong idea, now. “I didn’t want you to ever see that picture, Will. I wanted Alex to destroy it. I wanted him to just bury it and—”
“…and let me go on believing forever and ever that my father was a decent guy while he was out there balling boys behind my back? Behind my mom’s back?”
Shit. This is going downhill fast. How could it be possible that I’m just seeing this now? That it doesn’t really matter how he found out, or that Alex had that picture. The worst part was that his father was actually leading a double life…not that Alex stumbled into it.
“Shit, Will.”
His mounting anger seems to take a turn. He struggles to regain his composure. I obviously hit a button. He’s back to thinking about his father’s deceit and how much it’s killing him.
I wonder if there’s any other healing souls I can destroy today. Looks like I’m done ripping the scab off Will’s wounds. I’m such a complete moron.
“Will,” I say. He’s staring through me, now. I’m not even sure he sees me, but I’m not gonna wave my hands in his face. I try to look sincere as I continue. “All I wanted to say was, I heard you were considering leaving the football team. I just wish you would think about it first. I know we’re not friends. Hell, I know you probably hate me right about now. I’m probably just another faggot to you. But…you need to know, Will. We’re not all like Alex.
“Please. You’re amazing on that field. You deserve that scholarship. I don’t even like football, and I can tell how good you are. You breathe for that shit. Just…you know, don’t let your father crush that dream. Things will settle down eventu—”
“No, Ezra,” he says. More like he spits the words out. But there’s no fury behind them. Just defeat. Despair. Capitulation. And worst of all, a growing resolve. He’s on the brink of being resolved to accept a fate where he doesn’t stay on his fast track out of here. I don’t know how I know it, I just do. “Things will never settle down. He ruined everything.”
“But not your future. Not your scholarship. You still have that, Will.” I can’t help it, now. I can feel the tears coming and I get furious with myself. This is supposed to be a pep talk. I’m actually the worst cheerleader in the history of the world.
And how did it come to this, anyway? I’m rooting for the bully, the very guy who flicked the switch that made us decide to start the club.
Kids have already begun leaving the cafeteria. We’re now in the way of the growing swarm as they make their exodus. They move around us like we’re the part in the red sea. I’m losing him.
“I gotta go, Ezra. Lunch is almost over,” he says. I can tell he’s at the brink of tears and he doesn’t want me to see him lose it. That would destroy his tough-guy image once and for all. “Thanks for the talk. It was fun.”
He turns away and brushes at his eyes. As he begins to walk away, though, I say it one more time.
“Will. Please don’t quit. Please.”
He turns back and gives me a ridiculous salute, before leaving and heading to the boys’ washroom.
He can’t give up that scholarship. It’s the only thing he has going for him right now. His escape from this small nowhere nothing town. I don’t care what he did to Alex. Alex had it coming. Will, though…he didn’t have this coming. Nobody deserves what happened to him. But he just can’t give up because of it.
CHAPTER 29
I move the elevated arm, pinched between my thumb and forefinger, across the spinning vinyl and concentrate on the grooves practically to the point of hypnosis. It’s an art-form, you know, to drop the needle at that exact precise point between two songs. You need to hit that one groove that’s slightly thicker than the ones on either side of it, the one that signifies the white noise of scratchy silence between songs.
I hit my mark, setting the needle down as gently as possible. Perfect.
I’m making my way over to Alex’s bed when the first roiling notes of Rise Up come up out of the speakers and wrap around me like a soft protective cushion. I lie down with my arms folded behind my head and I look up at Alex’s ceiling. As Lorraine Segato sings the opening lines, I fall in love with her all over again.
“Make yourself comfortable, Ezra,” Alex says, disturbing my reverie. He wants me to be anything but comfortable, though. As u
sual, he’s dripping with sarcasm. He’s sitting at his desk, which is right beside his bed. I ignore him, close my eyes and I allow the music to swallow me whole.
I hear a slight squeak that signals his lost interest in me as he swivels his chair back to face the desk and continues to do his homework.
My favourite part comes on and I wish I was anywhere but here. Even with my eyes closed, I wonder why I’m allowing myself to be in the same house as him, let alone the same room. He’s just not a nice person. Here it is, all the talkin’ bout lines…nothing makes me want to do something more than this song does.
Lorraine’s singing about it being the right time for peace and how she wants to end the world’s tension. Have I mentioned this song is my anthem?
I want nothing to burst this bubble of perfection. But I know, as soon as I open my eyes, that the illusion will be shattered. I’ll still be in Alex’s house, in Alex’s room, lying on Alex’s bed, with Alex sitting beside me.
The perfection of the music—of Lorraine’s voice and the lyrics—is a sharp contrast to the feeling of nausea growing inside me.
When is the right moment to end a friendship? Am I overreacting? Should I give him another chance? And another and another? How many times should I be sickened by his actions and still stand by him before I give in and give up?
It’s time, it’s time, it’s time…
The song tells me what I want to hear, what I need to hear. But I’m frozen on his bed, unable to find a way to say the words. What does one say?
More than ever, I feel like we’ve been lumped together because of our sexuality. It’s the only explanation. I mean, Nettie and I…we at least have more in common than the fact that we’re next-door neighbours. Our friendship makes sense. But Alex? He’s deplorable. I race through my mind, searching desperately to pick out a redeeming quality to give him. Nothing. Alex’s head is in the guillotine and the executioner is at the ready, his sword raised in the air above him.
“Jesus, Ezra,” Alex says, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you in there? It’s skipping. Don’t you hear that? You finally wore it out. Thanks a ton. Can’t you at least get up and move the needle?”
I open my eyes and raise myself up on my elbows. He’s looking at me like I’m the most despicable thing in the room and it’s not the other way around. He can completely destroy a person’s life, but because the record is skipping he’s inconvenienced and it’s the end of the world and he’s pissed at me. Typical Alex.
“I gotta go,” I say. I get up off his bed and walk to the door.
“Aren’t you going to stop the skipping? Ezra! You put the record on. Jesus.”
But I keep on going. As I walk down the stairs and make my way to the front door, I can still hear the same repeated blip of music over and over again. I feel a pang of sadness, because I think it will probably be the very last time I hear the vinyl version of my favourite song.
I open the door, step outside, and then close the door behind me.
I’m such a coward. I can’t even end things properly.
CHAPTER 30
On my way home I’m about to detour to Nettie’s place when I see a familiar head of perfect tight curls out of the corner of my eye.
Simon.
He’s sitting on my front porch waiting for me. He hasn’t seen me yet. I stop in my tracks and watch him look off into space. His elbows are on his knees and his fists are under his chin, propping his head up. Even though there’s a chill in the air and the leaves have begun to change, he’s in a signature pair of Hawaiian print shorts and a tank top.
He might just be the most beautiful thing. Not for the first time, I think to myself, Ezra Hinkley. I smile at the melodic way it sounds in my head. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve tried it out loud a few times too, while standing in front of the mirror so I can see the way I look as I say it.
I would take his last name, right?
“Hey,” he says, finally glimpsing me. He jumps off the porch and approaches. His immediate happiness is for me. Amazing. He’s beaming for me.
“Hi,” I say. I want to follow the hi with a term of endearment. I want to say, Hi baby, or Hi Sweetie, or Hi gorgeous. But we’re not there yet. I blush just imagining one of them coming out of my mouth. “Come on.”
“What’s up?” he asks. “Where are we going?” He follows me and we walk the pathway to Nettie’s door together. He looks around to make sure nobody’s watching, and then gives my cheek the slightest peck imaginable before retreating.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just calling on Net.”
We climb the stairs to her porch and I ring the bell and open the door. “Hello?”
Nettie’s mom comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel. Her face, as usual, is an explosion of happiness. “Ezra! Hi, come in.”
“Hi, Claire,” I say, stepping inside. I usher Simon inside. He closes the door and then runs a hand over the top of his head. I recognize this as something he does when he’s nervous. “Just calling on Nettie. Is she here?”
“Absolutely, she is. She’s upstairs hiding out in her room.” Her smile, usually the brightest thing in the room, is threatening to crack her in half as she looks Simon up and down. My cheeks burn as she does so, as though I’m somehow being judged in the sizing up.
Claire flings the tea towel into the kitchen with no regard to where it might land. She comes over to Simon and says, “Hello.”
“Hi,” he says.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Simon, this is Nettie’s mom. Claire…um, no…Mrs. Engli—”
“Don’t be silly, Ezra,” she says. “Claire is fine.”
“Claire, this is Simon.” With as much courage as I can muster, I’m able to follow this with, “My boyfriend.” It makes my heart flutter with a mix of fear and excitement.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Simon.” And she is. I can tell. “We just love Ezra over here. So nice to see the two of you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Claire. Thank you.”
By now, Nettie has heard her mother’s excited voice. She comes to the top of the stairs and begins to make her way down. She stops halfway down.
“Hey guys,” Nettie says. She seems a bit nervous, which is unlike her. “What’s up?”
“Annette, you didn’t tell me Ezra had a boyfriend. This is news,” Claire says. She turns and smiles at Simon. “And he’s such a handsome boy, too.”
“Ew. Mom. You’re going to embarrass him,” Nettie says. A look of absolute horror and disgust washes over her. “I’m sorry, Simon. She’s not fully housetrained yet.”
“Ha,” Claire says. “Nonsense. I’m sure he’s used to the attention.”
“Thank you,” Simon says. “Not really. But it’s kinda nice. I’m not complaining.”
He’s so smooth. If I were in his shoes, with a strange woman telling me how handsome I was, I’m sure I’d be on the floor. Dead. And beat red with embarrassment. I’ve noticed that Simon is one of those kids who can hold his own with adults. It’s miraculous to see him talk with my dad. It makes me feel like a child or something. I’m so awkward whenever I try to talk to adults I don’t know.
“Still,” Nettie says, looking at her mother. “Just. No.” She turns her gaze to me. “You guys wanna go for a walk?”
She takes another couple steps down the stairs toward us.
“Um. I thought we’d just stay here. Go up to your room, maybe?” I say. “Thanks, Claire.”
“Nice to meet you,” Simon says as he and I head for the stairs.
But Nettie blocks me.
“Sorry guys, but my room’s a write-off. I have this project for school. It’s strewn all over the place.”
She’s acting peculiar. She is a wall. I’m aware suddenly that there is no way in hell we’re getting past her. I give her a perplexed look.
“Maybe we should just go for that walk,” she says. She keeps descending the stairs, forcing us back down.
Before she retreats to the kitchen, Claire says, “S
he’s right, boys. I walked by a few minutes ago. It was utter chaos. Listen to her. We’d have to send a search party to find you if you ever cross its threshold.”
The two of them exchange a look that I read to mean, ‘phew…that was a close one.’
Now I know something is up. Nettie’s room is the most immaculate place in existence in the world today. I’ve known her since I started breathing. Her room has never been untidy. I’ve never seen so much as an errant sock on the floor. They’re both lying to us.
“Um, sure,” I say, feeling somewhat wounded by the deceit. “Whatever you say.”
She gets her way and the three of us head out the door together. I can’t shake the feeling that Nettie is actually sweeping us outside.
* * * *
“What the hell was that all about?” I say once we’re away from the house and on the sidewalk.
“What do you mean?” Nettie says. She’s the worst liar in the history of liars. She’s the one person in the universe I can read like an open book. And she knows it, which is why she’s not really trying too hard. She knows I made her and I know she knows I made her.
“Nettie, your room messy? That’s like the most feeble charade you’ve ever tried to pull on me.”
“I have no idea what this is,” Simon says, pointing to both of us before he turns and sets out ahead of us on the sidewalk. “But it’s a nice day. We don’t have many of them left. Let’s walk.”
“You heard the nature boy,” Nettie says, smiling like she just won a staring contest with me or something. Like she’s off the hook, more like. “Let’s walk. What’s up?”
I give in. Clearly there’s something going on in her life that she doesn’t want me to know about. And the identifying evidence of it must be in her room at the moment.
“Since I have other things on my mind right now,” I begin as we fall in behind Simon and start walking, “I’m going to let that bizarreness go for now. Just know that I caught you in a lie.”
“Whatever do you mean, Ezra Caine?” she says, now playing with me. She’s clearly relieved, though. I can see it in her face. “Sometimes you say the most unusual things.”
