The weather warms, the hills
start to thaw, and I can run
the perimeter of the big
fenced compound. My heart pumps
against the scar on my chest,
bare beneath the afternoon sun.
Tony catches up, and I push
harder, dare him to keep up.
Surprise. He can. Not only
that, but he’s a lot more buff
than I would have expected, and
completely at ease with my pace.
Mind if I run with you? It’s
good to be challenged. I used
to run every day in lockup.
I should have kept at it.
“You’re still in decent shape.
Did you lift in lockup too?”
Yeah, and at the gym when I got
out. For a few months, anyway.
At the gym? I had the idea
Tony was a basic street kid.
But after Phillip died, it was
all I could do just to eat.
“Phillip? Who was Phillip?”
Boyfriend? Brother? Uncle?
He was half foster father,
half my best friend in the world.
We run in silence for another
three laps. Hard. Harder. Side
by side in friendly rivalry,
till we’re ready to collapse.
We Hit the Shower
To wash off some well-deserved
sweat. Tony makes a point of
looking the other way, but I
haven’t felt uncomfortable yet,
being naked around him.
Stanley is much creepier.
That boy should not be allowed
to touch himself with soapy hands.
“So, Tony. How was your visit
to your dad’s?” Dr. Boston
talked him into it—it’s a
prerequisite for wilderness camp,
one I have to face myself,
before long. After my gutless
performance on Easter, I wonder
if I can score the balls.
It went okay, I guess. He’s got
a sweet house at Tahoe—not huge,
but more than I’m used to, on a
street with its own private beach.
His wife, Talia, is nice, not real
bright, but what could you expect
from someone who fell in love
with my dad? She was polite,
and a real good cook. No wonder
Pa married her! ’Course, if she
doesn’t quit cooking pasta, he’ll
end up buried before his time.
“Pasta, till death do us part.
A slice of Italian-American
life.” We laugh, but I think
that price isn’t so dear for
a few good years together,
well fed and otherwise
satisfied. Nothing at all
to dread about that scenario.
It’s Better Than What I’ve Got
To face at home. Two cold people,
who can’t remember why they
fell in love in the first place. If
they were ever in love. I chew
on that as we dry off, get dressed.
“Did your dad ever really love
your mom?” I ask. But I’m
betting he’ll go to bat for love.
Well, yeah. At least I think so.
Hell, maybe not. Fuck, Conner.
Maybe there’s no such thing. Lots
of people rot, waiting for it.
Okay, I was wrong. It’s weird,
how Tony and I are on
the same page, with some
regularity. “You don’t
by some remote chance happen
to be a Republican?”
Uh. No. I’m not into politics.
Why? Are you—a Republican?
I stop and think—really think.
“My parents are steadfast
conservatives. So maybe I’m
a Dem after all.” (Probably not.)
Good to know. Because any
“party” that shuts its doors
on the poor, gay, or otherwise
“useless” gets my hearty F. U.
Right on. If I ever actually
grow big enough huevos to chance
a visit home, I’ll consider
letting them know I’ve become
a Democrat.
Tony
I Don’t Tell Conner Everything
About last weekend.
Like how, despite all
Pa did to make me feel
at home, I was a complete
stranger under his roof,
and I doubt that will change.
How the big bed in
the spotless wine red
bedroom made me feel
lonelier than ever. I’ve
never, not even once
in my life, slept in a bed
like that—so much room,
such heavy, warm covers,
deep, fluffy pillows. I felt
like I was drowning in
comfort, choking on the idea
I could ever belong there.
How even though I
had plenty of meds,
supplied by Aspen
Springs, I sneaked into
Talia’s bathroom,
borrowed a Valium or three.
Pop a Valium with a
Prozac, you don’t care
where you are, or who’s
talking in the other
room, not even if you
know they’re talking
about you. At least
the combination put
me in a place where
it was easy to keep
my big mouth shut.
Who needs confrontation?
Apparently, Stanley Does
He’s in a mood at group
this afternoon, and it’s
going to be hella
interesting because
the person he’s set on
taking on is Dr. Starr.
Life is all about choices,
the bulldog says. Let’s
talk about the choices
you’ll make when you
leave Aspen Springs. Where
will you go from here?
Stanley leans his chair
back on two legs, sticks
a finger up his nose. I’m
gonna go find me a cute
little girl and show her
the business end of Stanley.
First, I suggest you sit
that chair back down
on four legs. Now tell
us what you meant.
Usually, “the business
end” refers to a weapon.
Stanley stands, smiling
as his right hand falls
toward his zipper.
That’s right And
this right here is my
weapon of choice.
Damn if he doesn’t
yank his ugly little
thing right out of his
pants. The girls scream,
Dr. Starr’s eyes go huge,
and Stanley starts to laugh.
No One Dares Come Between
Stanley and his target,
except for Vanessa,
sitting smack in his path.
Come on, Stanley, she says.
You don’t really want to
mess with Dr. Starr, do you?
Is she crazy? That fat
fuck will go right
over the top of her.
Stay out of this, bitch,
or I’ll take you out
too, promises Stanley.
Everyone pushes back
into the wall as I start
toward Vanessa. But before
I can get close, Conner
plants himself right in front
of Stanley. Far enough.
Stanley stops, but only
for a second. He raises
his hands, fists tight.
I’m not afraid of you,
preppie. Get the hell
out of my way.
Dr. Starr moves toward
the door, knowing help
lies not far beyond.
But Conner takes control,
warning, Just give me an
excuse to kick your ass.
Believe it or not, Stanley
does, moving straight
into Conner, swinging.
Conner lifts a defensive
arm, knocks Stanley off
balance, takes a swing of
his own.
Vanessa
OMG!
Conner is so incredible.
In one movement, he drops
Stanley to the floor
like a swatted fly.
Paul and Stephanie rush
through the door,
but the whole ugly
confrontation is over.
They drag Stanley,
sobbing and slobbering,
to his feet, shriveled
penis still exposed.
Put him in isolation,
says Dr. Starr. Il’l call
juvenile detention.
The rest of you can go
back to your rooms.
We’re finished for today.
Conner, may I speak
with you for a minute?
I hold back while
the others start toward
the door. I want to take
in Conner, barely breathing
hard after playing hero.
I watch Dr. Starr’s fingertips
rest lightly on his shoulder,
and I fight a jealous shiver.
He’s fine, isn’t he?
“Tony! You scared
the bejesus out of me!”
Sorry. But he is fine,
isn’t he?
“Yes, he is.” Suddenly,
I notice I’m floating
in a cloud of white.
It’s Weird
Because since I’ve been
on the lithium, I haven’t
gone manic at all, although
I have fallen back into the blue
zone several times.
Dr. Starr says
lithium works faster
against the white.
Yet here I am, feeling
fearless (which explains
my earlier lunacy—Stanley
could have knocked me
senseless); feeling stimulated
(by the hysteria and close
call, but more by Conner,
standing up for me, standing
close to me); feeling alive
(straddling the razor wire).
You’re blushing,
whispers Tony.
What have you got
on your mind, Vanessa?
“Like you can’t guess.”
Oh yes, it’s on my mind—
Conner, lying with me
in a bed of tall, cool
grass. Conner, leaning
over me, his long,
lean body exposed.
Conner, kissing me
with his luscious mouth …
Here he comes. You
might want to close
your mouth.
You’re drooling.
A Slight Exaggeration
At least I think so.
I circle my lips with
my tongue, hoping
to catch any stray drool,
as Conner comes very close.
He reaches out, touches
my cheek. You okay?
My heart threatens
implosion, but I manage
to fake cool. “Just fine.
Thank you, Conner.”
He shrugs. No problem.
He had it coming.
What did the bulldog
want? asks Tony. You
in any trouble?
Nah. She thought
he had it coming too.
Hey, who knew Stanley
had the balls?
Balls? You mean you
could see them, too?
We all crack up and Dr. Starr
clears her throat. “I think that’s
a hint. We’d better go.”
Tony leads the way.
Conner falls in, very close behind me.
You have to be more careful,
he whispers. I won’t always
be around to protect you.
His voice is chocolate—
sweet, smooth, rich …
… foreboding.
Conner
Actually, Dr. Starr
Wanted to strongly suggest
I go home this weekend.
You’re ready, Conner. You
are stronger than you know.
“Why do you say that? Because I
took care of Stanley? He’s nothing
but mouth. But home? I’m afraid
of there. Too many judgments.”
You want to get out of here
sometime, don’t you? Our next
Challenge program starts in two
weeks. Chew on that for a while.
So I’m chewing. I do want
to get out, but where, oh where,
will I go from here? I’ve always
looked forward to senior year,
varsity football, cheerleaders’
panties. But I can’t go back
to school now. Everyone thinks
I’m some kind of nut, and fuck,
they’re right. I am. I’ve been
here, trying to get a handle
on my craziness, for months.
But, despite all their prying,
Drs. Starr and Boston are
not even close to fixing me.
If I told them every secret,
an overdose of stinking truth,
would they break down and
admit I’m damn near as warped
as Stanley? That’s an eye
opener and, shit, it’s true.
But Hey, Guess What
Crazy means I’m not liable
for my actions. So screw it,
I’ll go home, propped up on
Prozac against distractions
like my mom and dad bitching
at me, Cara, and each other;
like Mom and Dad quizzing me
about school, my future and Emily,
certainly not in that order.
Meanwhile, I’m going to catch
up with Vanessa. Someday
I want more than her smile.
Does that mean there’s hope
for me after all? She doesn’t
have a single crow’s-foot, no
cigarette taint to her laughter.
A wedge of crazies shuffles
along the corridor, and
Vanessa and Tony walk
slowly, at the rear of the throng.
I watch Vanessa sway her hips
and a sudden urge comes over
me. Not liable for my
actions, I surge straight ahead,
push my body against hers.
She slows even more, letting
me nest against her, as if she
knows what I’ve got in mind.
I lift her hair, bend, and drop
my lips to her neck, kiss
the soft pulse behind her ear.
She slips her hand into mine.
Mmm. She sighs, and I know
she wants to kiss me back.
But this is not the place. “Soon,”
I promise her. Very soon.
Tony Tosses a Jealous Look
Over his shoulder. Weird, but
I get the feeling he isn’t
jealous of Vanessa. Somehow,
he seems jealous of me.
“Hey, Tony,” I test. “I’ll give you
a kiss too, if you say please.”
You wish, he jabs. But I prefer
a man who likes to be on top.
“Ouch, little brother! I like
it on top. And on the bottom.
And standing up. And … Oh, man,
I gotta stop or go jerk off!”
Oh, yech, says Vanessa, but
she says it with a laugh. Guys
are just the nastiest creatures.
Don’t the two of you agree?
Tony slips right into “gay.”
Of course, you luscious girl.
And that’s how I love ’em—
nasty, sweaty, meaty and coarse.
“That’s how I like my women,
too.” Too brave. Vanessa’s
scowl could cut me in half.
I backpedal, fast. “Except you!”
We reach the gender T—
boys go right, girls straight ahead,
past the rec room. Vanessa
stops to blow two kisses—one
toward Tony, the other to me,
and I think maybe I could learn
to love someone, after all.
I drink the thought, try hard
to swallow it.
Tony
Three Days
Since they hauled Stanley
away and now, I hear,
he’ll be back this afternoon.
His parents must have way
deep pockets. That dude
should be locked up like
Hannibal Lecter—behind
Impulse Page 19
