by Liane Shaw
the stone rainbow
If everyone just decides to treat everyone else with kindness, it all goes away. Intolerance, disrespect, racism, homophobia, misogyny, bullying, and all the other horrible words we’ve had to invent just to find a way to label the endless crap people seem to feel the need to throw at each other…all wiped out by one simple command. Be kind.
It’s just so simple that I can’t understand why everything is always so complicated.
one
“Ready yet?”
I look down at the water, a lovely shade of chlorinated blue that smells like my mother just attacked the bathroom with bleach again. It makes my eyes water, and I can barely see the pool floor that I can never quite reach no matter how hard I try to force myself down there. Swimming isn’t my best trick, and it’s hard to get excited about these early morning lessons when my swim coach is Cody, the world’s least patient person, who thinks that everyone was born with gills just because he was.
“Yeah, it’s just a little cold. Got to get used to it,” I lie as I point one toe over the edge, brushing the water with the very tip. I notice that my foot is in perfect position, as if I’m about to glide across a grand stage and impress the masses with my amazing strength and dance skills. I disappear into the zone, immersed in imagining the applause of the crowd as I finish my final grand jeté, when suddenly I feel a hand on my back, giving me a hard shove.
“Cody!” Ryan’s voice barely reaches me through the water that immerses me instead, drowning out the audience as it fills up my ears and starts pushing me down. My arms and legs instantly start flailing, which makes me swirl around in a circle like an out-of-control underwater twister. I can’t remember how to get back up! My lungs feel like they’re expanding to an uncontainable size, and my chest is starting to hurt as the pressure rises to an unbearable level.
I feel as if I’m on the verge of actually exploding into a million tiny pieces, never to be seen again, when a hand grabs my arm and pulls me up coughing and sputtering.
“I see we still have work to do.” Cody grins as I try to remember how to start breathing again. He takes the arm he grabbed to stop me from sinking and puts it on the edge of the pool so that I can support myself and then pushes himself back out of reach, where he stays suspended while treading water. He looks over at me cheerfully. “Oh, by the way, Jack, did I ever mention that the reason they use so much chlorine in this pool is because I scare the piss out of all my students? Like, literally.”
I wipe my hand across my mouth, glaring at him while he keeps on grinning like an overfed hyena at the zoo. The chlorine tastes like it smells, which is disgusting enough, but now I could swear that I can detect traces of scared-kid pee in there as well. I think I’m going to puke. I wish Cody was closer to me so I could work on my projection.
“Cody, you are a complete ass, and you seriously suck at teaching swimming.” Ryan’s butt slides over to me from where he’s been sitting and watching. He reaches down, helping me pull myself out and into a sitting position.
“Is that true? About the kids?” I ask, my stomach still churning as it thinks about sending my lunch in Cody’s general direction.
“That they pee in the pool? Yeah, probably. But don’t worry, he had a small class today and the chlorine kills most of it anyway.”
“Thanks. I feel so much better now,” I tell him sarcastically, spitting whatever is in my mouth back into the pool…so I can swallow it later when Coach Cody tries to drown me again.
“Hey, Ryan! You’re full of it. I am a perfect swimming teacher. Look at how good you are!” Cody yells out a delayed comeback, sounding very offended. Ryan just shakes his head.
“You are completely full of it. You did not teach me how to swim. I was swimming long before I met you.”
“Yeah, well, who coached you back into shape after Jack wrecked your shoulder?”
“Jack did not wreck my shoulder, and, yes, you helped me, but your tough-guy tactics work better on someone who already knows how to swim. Jack’s just learning.”
I watch the two of them arguing back and forth. I’m never sure if they’re actually mad or not when they do this because it’s pretty much the only way they talk to each other. They met in grade five when Cody was assigned to be Ryan’s “helper” and ended up turning into his friend instead. I think Ryan likes how wild and crazy Cody acts even though it obviously drives him crazy a lot of the time. They had a huge fight in the summer, mostly because of me, and even though they’re hanging out again, I’m not sure what kind of friends they are now.
Then again, I’m not sure what kind of friends Ryan and I are either. I did wreck his shoulder when he threw himself off the bridge last spring and pulled me out of the water. After that, we ended up spending time together and it morphed into something that seems like friendship. But I often wonder if Ryan actually sees me as a friend or just has some kind of superhero code that says he’s responsible for me forever since he saved my life. I’ve never talked to him about it though because I’m not sure I want to know. If I don’t know the truth, I can pretend Ryan actually likes me for who I am.
I don’t wonder about Cody. Ever. I don’t even think about him unless we’re having these swimming lessons that usually end up making me feel like I’m drowning again. Cody made it pretty clear that he’s helping me because of Ryan, not because of me. That’s fine. He’s mostly an asshole anyway. I’ve never understood what Ryan sees in him. What did he call him one time? Oh yeah, misogynistic, homophobic, and relatively racist. Ryan calls that the triple threat of Thompson Mills.
I’m sure there are lots of nice people living in our small town, but unfortunately for me, Cody isn’t the only triple threat. Far from it.
I’d rather have Ryan as a swim coach, but he says he can’t show me regular diving techniques or how to kick properly because he has his own special swim style, compliments of his cerebral palsy. I don’t know though. It still might be better than having Cody, who may be the strongest swimmer in our school but he’s also working on his Least Sensitive Person in Thompson Mills badge. He’s got a lot of competition around here, but my money is still on him.
Although I truly hate to admit it, I’ve learned more in the few months that he’s been making me drink bleach-flavored water than I did in the years of lessons I hated having as a kid.
Bleach-and-urine-flavored water. I seriously feel like I’m going to throw up.
“Want to do a couple of laps while your coach figures out what torture he’s going to inflict on you next?” Ryan asks. I didn’t even realize they’d stopped arguing. I look at the pool where Cody is now swimming lengths, his ridiculously muscled arms flashing in and out of the water at a speed that I’ll never match, even in my dreams. Ryan can, but he’s always nice enough to keep it slow and steady when he’s with me.
“Sure. Maybe he’ll be so impressed that he’ll decide we’re finished for today.”
“Fat chance!” Ryan laughs as he rolls into the water. Every time I watch him do it, I’m amazed all over again, something I never would say to him because he hates it when people say things like that. But it’s true. I find it truly amazing that someone who can’t even walk can move through the water like a dolphin that’s late for school. Ryan’s CP mostly affects his lower legs, and if I watch closely, I can see that they move differently from anyone else’s I’ve ever seen swim. His thighs pump like high-powered pistons, doing all the work as if the rest of his legs were just extra attachments. It makes me feel like a wimp when I keep complaining about how hard it is to learn to swim. Not that it shuts me up.
I roll in after him, copying his actions but not nearly as smoothly. I manage to breath
e first this time and get my body straightened out and moving within seconds. I surface and take a breath as Ryan turns his head and grins at me. He always looks totally happy when he’s in the water. It’s his safe place.
He matches my speed as we head down to the end of the pool. Once I get into the rhythm, it starts to feel good. It’s as if I’m getting stronger with each stroke, slicing my arms through the water, effortlessly pushing it down and away so that I can propel myself forward. I imagine that I’m Ryan or Cody in a swim meet, pushing my strength to the limit so that I can bring my school to glory, the cheers of the crowd barely reaching my waterlogged ears as I stretch toward the finish line.
“Ow! Crap!”
I forgot that the finish line in a swimming pool is the cement wall. I put both hands on the edge of the pool, closing my eyes and wincing against the pain of smashing my head. Again.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asks, obviously trying not to laugh at me.
“Yeah, just peachy.”
Cody is sitting on the edge of the pool watching me. He doesn’t try not to laugh.
“We have to work on your dismount,” he says, laughing even harder at his own stupid joke.
“Cody, leave him alone,” Ryan says in that really irritating way he has of over-defending me all of the time. Maybe I should ask him about his superhero code.
“Oh, stop being such a mommy. The kid can talk for himself.”
“Cody, go to hell.” I squeeze the words out through clenched teeth. My head seriously hurts. I must have been going pretty fast.
“Later. First, I want to say that even though you tried to bash your own brains out, that was the fastest lap you’ve done yet. So, you should be thanking me, and Ryan should be apologizing for telling me that I’m a bad teacher when obviously I’m a pro.”
I’m pretty sure there was a compliment buried in there somewhere, and I can feel my own version of Ryan’s swim grin creeping onto my face.
“Thanks, Cody. You are a swimming teacher god.” He looks at me happily, obviously missing the sarcasm. As usual.
“Tell me something I don’t know. Ryan, do you have something to say?”
“Yeah, go get me my chair. I think we’re done for today.”
Cody just laughs again but does what Ryan asks bringing the chair over and locking the wheels. Ryan pulls himself out of the pool and then Cody helps him into his chair quickly and without comment. I’ve seen Ryan do it on his own, but when Cody is around, Ryan just automatically lets him help. Cody acts like the most self-centered jerk in the history of the known world most of the time, but he always seems to know exactly what Ryan needs and how to do it. The only thing I know how to do is push his wheelchair once in a while when the ground is rough or there’s a step that’s too steep for him to get over. I’d do more if he’d let me, but he doesn’t seem to want my help.
We go into the locker room, where I grab my clothes and head into a cubicle to change. I know Cody is likely laughing at me for being shy, but I don’t really like changing in front of other guys, especially not guys who look like him. I’m like some kind of mini-person compared to him. My head barely clears his shoulder. His arms are like tree trunks. Mine aren’t even the branches. They’re the pathetic little twigs that hang off the branches. I could swim a hundred laps every day for the next year and still not get muscles like his.
I throw my clothes on quickly and come out to the sinks and mirrors, grimacing as I see myself standing there. My reflection and I are not on very good terms at the moment. Nothing it shows me has much to do with who I am or how I feel inside where the rest of the world can’t see me. A plain T-shirt in a really ugly shade of green that looks like something else Cody’s students might leave floating in the pool. Ancient jeans that bag at my butt and end too close to my ankle because my mom bought them at Value Village.
Caterpillar camouflage so I can hide in plain sight and no one will suspect there’s a technicolor butterfly hiding under the snot green and faded blue.
It’s not just my clothes. My hair is black and so curly that it’s always a total mess even though I bought a special conditioner to try to smooth it down. I’ve always wanted straight, sleek, shampoo-commercial hair. Anything would be better than this Brillo Pad sitting on my head looking like it’s already been used to scrape the crap off a dozen pots and pans.
My eyes are so dark brown, it’s hard to tell that I actually have pupils. My mother says they’re mysterious, but Ryan calls them frightening black holes. I get them from my mother’s Guatemalan parents. My eyelashes are barely there, so pale on the tips that they disappear from view. That’s from my dad who is blond with green eyes.
I wonder if my hair would be better if it were blond, not that I’d have the guts to change it. Lucas dyes his hair platinum sometimes. He’s the big brother of Ryan’s long-distance girlfriend, Clare, and I think he’s pretty close to perfect. He is so sure of himself and seems to know exactly who he is. He wears what he wants, when he wants, and doesn’t seem to worry about what anyone else thinks. We met last year when Ryan, Cody, and I went on an awkward road trip to Comic Con in a city a few hours away. Lucas and his friends were so different from anyone I knew around here that it was like going to a foreign country…maybe even a foreign planet. They seemed to totally accept me, and I felt more comfortable sitting at the table with a bunch of strangers than I can ever remember feeling in the cafeteria at school.
Lucas and his friend Caleb both talk to me online sometimes even though they’re several years older than me. It’s nice to talk to someone from outside of Thompson Mills.
It’s also nice to talk to someone who’s gay.
Like me.
Well, not exactly like me. They’re all the way out, and I’m still most of the way in. Lucas and Caleb were the first gay people I’d ever met in my life, and it means a lot to me that they seem to actually like me and want to keep in touch.
Cody and Ryan know I’m gay. My mom and Ryan’s mom. My counselor, Matthew. And maybe Officer Peabody, seeing as she’s the cop who questioned me last year and might have some powers of deduction. That’s it for this teeny tiny town that seems overly populated with triple threats and where the only gay person I’ve ever met is me.
Lots of other people think they know. I can’t decide what’s worse. Having rumors spread about me that are a mixed-up mess of true and false, or having this one truth spread about me and having people decide that everything else they’ve heard about me is also true.
I’ve heard that I’m a drug dealer. That I’m a pervert. A stalker. An alcoholic. And my personal favorite, an escaped mental patient who for some reason lives with his mother where everyone can see him.
Oh, and there’s also the one about me trying to drown myself in the river, which ended up creating the great superhero of Thompson Mills.
two
“Guess what?” Ryan says to me as we move down the crowded sidewalk in front of the school.
“What?” I ask, watching as he navigates his chair expertly, weaving around people who either walk too slowly or decide to stop in front of him.
“St. Clair is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” Mr. St. Clair is the vice principal at our school. He’s worked hard to create his reputation as a real tough guy with daily doses of yelling and punishing. He’s never yelled at me, but I’ve heard him let loose on Cody a few times. Quite a few times.
“As in, he won’t be here anymore. He decided to take early retirement over the holidays, and he just isn’t coming back. My mom told me. I guess she heard it from someone at her school.” Ryan grabs his wheels, braking hard as the girl in front of us does an abrupt about-face and almost lands in his lap. She looks down at him for a second in surprise and then smiles a little as she walks around his chair and heads off in the opposite direction. I guess she’s heading somewhere more interesting than school.
“That seems kind of fast. We were only off for two weeks. I wonder what happened?” It’s too bad. I’ve always kind of enjoyed listening to him come up with new ways to punish Cody.
“Probably got sick of Cody.” Ryan laughs.
“Yeah, well he’d have to get in line.”
“And you’d be at the head of it, leading the way. I know he’s being a jerk in the pool, but you are really getting good.”
“Not sure if that’s because of him or in spite of him.”
“Maybe you’re just learning how to swim in self-defense.”
“That’s exactly right. If you weren’t there at every lesson, I might be dead by now.” I start to laugh but then stop the second I see the quick flash in his eyes. It’s his Oh my god, Jack said something about dying look. I hate that look. It makes me feel like the victim in his drama. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose, and he always puts it away quickly, but that almost makes it worse because it means it’s real, something he feels inside that he’s still trying to hide from me.
“Anyway, Mom said they already hired his replacement and that she’s starting today.” The flash is gone and the conversation is back to safer topics.
“Who is she?”
“Some woman from some city a few hours from here.” Ryan swerves a little as he wheels around a couple of guys who are walking so slowly they’re almost going backward.
“Oh, well, that’s nice and specific,” I say, picking up my own pace a little so I can keep up with him.
“I can’t remember exactly what Mom said. I do remember she thinks the new VP has a kid in our grade who will be coming to our school.”
“I wonder what someone from a city school will think of TMHS.” I don’t have much experience with people from the city.
“I don’t think anyone from the city would be too excited by life in this town. I have a few friends I met in rehab and they would probably think this place is totally boring and backward,” Ryan says as he bends forward and puts his back into getting his chair up the ramp in front of the school. I always want to help him do it because it looks hard, but I offered once, and he said no so quickly that now I just keep quiet. Ryan is the only kid in our school in a wheelchair. He said that the school board had to actually order a ramp for him when he started because the school was built so long ago that it isn’t accessible. He still has to use the staff bathroom because they never renovated the kids’ stalls so that his chair would fit. Progressive, like everything else in Thompson Mills.
