by Kira Harp
****
Theater was Sam's favorite class. Most of school sucked, or at best was tolerable, but this one thing made coming in worth it. Even now, when opening night was only a week away, and everyone was strung tight with it-won't-be-ready and he-forgot-his-lines-again, Sam loved it. He wasn't in the play this term, but he was in charge of set design and that was awesome. Although they were also behind schedule. He bent over the flat he was painting. Re-painting.
“I don't see why we need to bother,” Lori whined. “I thought we were done with this one. Why do we have to redo it?”
“When the lights hit it you could still see the shapes from the old scene underneath,” Sam pointed out, trying to stay reasonable. “Which is why we're doing it over. To get it right.”
“Well that sucks. We shouldn't have to keep reusing these. This school is just too cheap to buy new stuff. I have a date and I need to wash my hair.”
“Just go.” Sam didn't want to lose any pair of hands with so much left to get done, but it wasn't as if she was doing much work anyway.
As Lori dropped her brush in the paint can and walked off, Chloe gave him a quick smile. “No loss.”
“Yeah.”
“Some of us are glad you're so picky about making everything perfect.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Are you ever going to try out for an actual part again? I thought you were great last term.”
“Maybe.” That had been an odd experience. He'd had the chance to play a male character - there were a lot more girls than guys in the class, so they'd adapted and cross-dressed a few. He'd done it well. People had said how he got the walk and the voice just right. It had been fun, and yet it had felt like he was faking being who he actually was. Getting praised for acting like a guy when he felt like he was a guy was strange. The teacher would never have told Andrew “You have male body language down pat.” Sam shrugged again. “Maybe.”
“Well, you were good.” Chloe smiled, even more warmly. For a while they worked in silence, covering over Sam's first layout with a thicker undercoat. Sam tried to lay the strokes on as evenly as he could. This time he would set it up under the lights and check from every angle to see if the damned window and flowerbox showed through, before repainting the cityscape on it.
Eventually, Chloe said, “So this is your second year in Theater, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So. Um. You wouldn't have signed up again if you weren't okay with, you know, gay people. Right? Because we have Luke and Brad making out behind the curtains, and Marvelous Marvin being as camp as the teacher will let him get away with.”
Sam shrugged, wondering where this was going. Yeah, they all knew about Luke and Brad. Sometimes Sam was totally jealous, but he didn't figure anyone had noticed. He didn't really have a crush on either of them. He was just jealous about how simple being together was for them, with bodies that fit, and met their needs. He'd been careful though. He was certain Chloe didn't know.
“So, um, how do you feel about, um, lesbians?”
Wow, that was out of left field. “I don't know. They're people, right? Same as you and me?”
Chloe hesitated before saying, “Exactly the same as me.”
“Oh. Um. That's cool.”
“Really? You don't mind?”
“Hell, no,” he said emphatically. Who was Sam to complain about anyone else's orientation?
“Oh. Oh, good. That's, um, great.” Chloe gave him a big smile, her eyes bright and happy, before bending to her painting again.
Two hours later they had the all offending flats well coated and stood them up out of the way to dry. Sam flexed his fingers and took his roller to the back sink to wash it out. Chloe followed him and leaned close when he turned on the water. She dug her fingers through the bristles of her brush above where Sam's hands were, and laughed at the trickle of white that coated Sam's wrists and fingers. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, right. Just for that you can wash out the tray.”
“I will.” She rinsed her brush and set it aside. “Hey, you want to get an ice-cream float at the Coffee Shack when we're done here?”
Sam glanced at the clock. It wasn't as late as he'd thought, and home held no real attraction. “Sure. Sounds good. Or, you know, real coffee because some of us are adults here.” He stuck his hand back into the water, scrubbing at the paint around his fingernails. “And some of us are not.”
“Just because I got paint on you.”
“And wrote 'Lisa is a bitch' in white before painting over that last panel.”
“Well, she is. And it was a perfect opportunity to say so in foot-high letters, even if you were the only one who saw it. So, are you too grown up and law-abiding to be seen with me?”
“Hell, no.” Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd hung out with someone other than Kate after school. Chloe was fun and sharp, and if she was a lesbian then Sam wouldn't have to watch every comment and gesture the same way. He lowered his voice to a deeper register. “I'll forgive you this time, young lady. Oof.” He rubbed his ribs. Chloe had one hell of a sharp elbow.
“Oops. Sorry.” But Chloe was grinning. “I have to get my books and crap from my locker. Meet you over there?”
“Sure. Half an hour?”
“Sounds good.”
Sam got to the Coffee Shack first, and stood in the long line to order his coffee. It was almost rush-hour and the place always got crowded. A small table in the corner opened up and he grabbed it out from under the nose of a rumpled businessman in a suit. It was only a few minutes before Chloe arrived. She'd changed her shirt and her hair was up in a cute ponytail. She stood inside the doorway, scanning the room with a small frown. When she saw Sam, her eyes lit up and she hurried over. “Hey, you got a table!”
“Yeah. Just lucky.” He liked the way just a little luck made Chloe smile like that. He spent so much time in a fog of depression, he really was glad to have someone happy around.
Chloe put her backpack on the other chair. “Watch that. Be right back.”
“In ten minutes or so,” Sam said, eyeing the line. “Don't worry, I'll keep your seat. If I'd known what kind of soda you drink I'd have got it for you, saved you the wait.”
“That's okay. Cherry Coke, just so you know for next time. Vanilla ice-cream.” She hesitated. “Do you, like, want a refill? Because if I'm standing in line, I can get you one.”
“Nah. I'm good.”
Ten minutes turned out to be a good guess, but Sam pulled out a book. He was absorbed enough that he didn't notice Chloe was back until she moved her backpack to the floor with a thump, and sat, with an exaggerated scowl. “Whose bright idea was it to come here?”
Sam forced himself to put the book away. Friends were good. The fight scene would wait. “That would be your bright idea.”
“Oh, yeah.” Chloe took a long slow drink from her float, eyeing him over the straw, and then sat back. “So, are you planning to go into theater in college? Like set design? I know Mrs. Knight thinks your designs are really good.”
Sam could feel his face heat up. Until now he'd been seriously mediocre at just about everything he tried. But the teacher's praise had been clear and effusive and delivered in front of the cast and crew. “Yeah, it just feels like it clicks. I love art, but I didn't want to do advertising and I'm not a genius painter. This, yeah, I love it.” He did. And it didn't hurt that Chloe was right about the theater crew. If they could smile at Marvin in Nora's heels and a feather boa from props, doing show tunes, then maybe they could accept Sam.
Chloe nodded and took another long, slow sip. “Me too. I mean, I want to act. But the whole theater thing is great. It's me!” She gave a theatrical wave of one hand.
They grinned at one another, and Sam felt himself relax a little more.
Chloe turned out to be a lot smarter than her bubbly personality had ever suggested. They got into a serious discussion about whether there were incest overtones in the father-daughter relationship in their p
lay, and time flew by. Sam got up once to get them refills, and two of the Shack's seriously awesome double-chocolate-chip cookies. He deliberately didn't check his phone for the time.
There was the sound of laughter and a group of teenagers pushed in through the door. Sam glanced over and recognized three of the school's top athletes and their A-list girlfriends. He lowered his head, watching covertly as they joked and flirted. People like that felt almost like aliens. How could they be that comfortable, that outgoing and confident? Every move said, look at me, want me, know how wonderful I am. How did they learn to do that?
Chloe wrinkled her nose. “They think they're so hot.”
“Yeah.”
“Although, I admit, Lisa is gorgeous. Her legs are like a mile long. I'd do her in a minute if I could stuff a gag in her mouth for it.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. I kind of feel that way about Nick.” The guy had a body that was sleek and ripped and golden. But he had a way of calling people names that looked like joking but took off a strip of flesh. So damned hot though.
“Nick?” Chloe said. “Really?”
“The gag thing also applies,” Sam said hastily. “I know he's a douche. But damn.” He snuck another look at Nick, laughing with a friend, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “Such a pity all that hotness is wasted on him.”
“Yeah.” Chloe's voice was oddly flat. She pulled out her phone and glanced at it. “Oh crud, is that the time? I've got to run. Listen, I'll see you in class, okay?”
“Sure.” Sam knew he was staring as she jumped to her feet, grabbed her backpack and hurried off without a backward look. He pulled out his own phone, and shit, yeah, it really was late. No wonder she was running off. “See you,” he called after her retreating back. His voice was loud enough to get him a dismissive glance from the group at the counter, but they immediately went back to their discussion of their summer plans.
Sam crumpled the cups and napkins from the table together and stuffed them into a nearby trash can. It was a pity Chloe had run off so fast. He'd been working up to ask her if she'd ever talked to anyone about the LGBT thing. Maybe, possibly, to ask if she knew anyone who'd had therapy or talked to a counselor. His mom had made him an appointment with some counselor, but from the way Mom had talked about getting God-centered grounding, Sam was betting he'd be sitting and keeping his mouth shut, mostly. And looking for someone else.
Not that he'd have the nerve to come out to Chloe. Even after her confiding in him so easily, he couldn't imagine saying the words. He was a coward. He hadn't even told his Dad anything, just nodded when Mom said he wanted to talk to an advisor about his life direction. She'd made it sound like vocational counseling, and Sam had just gone along with that. Dammit.
He'd hoped telling Clint and Mom would have gotten him over the hurdle, but each new confession seemed to be just as hard as the first one. Maybe he'd ask Chloe to hang out here again sometime, and work up to the subject. Sam took a deep breath, or as deep as his binder would allow, and vowed again. No giving up. One step at a time. Even if those steps seemed insurmountable, the key was not looking too far ahead. He'd set coming out to Chloe as his next goal. That, he could surely do.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and picked up his back pack. He had to pass the seniors on his way out, but they didn't even give him a look. Outside the coffee shop he paused, calculating bus times. He was going to be late for dinner, no matter what. After a little more thought, he texted his mom that he was held up at school with the play and would miss the meal. Getting yelled at later would be easier than walking in late to to the family table, and facing his father's “Where have you been, Sarah?” in front of everyone.
To make it sort of true, Sam headed back toward school. The odds were the doors would all be locked by now, and he'd have a hard time catching someone who would let him get back in. But he turned in at the parking lot none the less. As he stood there, staring at the door of the auditorium, it opened and Mrs. Knight came out, struggling with a bag full of papers. She managed to get the bag slung over her shoulder and paused, noticing Sam.
“Hey, Sarah. Did you forget something?”
“Not really. Thanks.” Sam figured Mrs. Knight would head off to her car, but instead she came over to him.
“You're just the person I wanted to see. I thought I'd catch you after you were done painting, but you were faster finishing up than I expected.”
“Chloe helped. And then we went out for coffee and hung out for a bit.” Sam wasn't sure why he said that, except that he was still a little off balance. He had a new friend. Or maybe not from the way she ran out of the Shack. But it had been pretty late, all right. But she hadn't looked back at him, almost like she was ditching him. Did she have some crush on Lisa? Should Sam have said something different?
“You and Chloe?” Mrs. Knight said. “Like a date?”
“No! Just...” Sam trailed off, his confusion worsening.
Mrs. Knight sighed. “Sarah, you know I'm the faculty advisor to the Gay Straight Alliance? Chloe is one of our more outspoken members. And she's been flirting with you for a month. I'm sorry if I misinterpreted.”
“She has?”
“You didn't notice?”
“No.” Sam blinked, trying to think of what Chloe had said to him, what she'd done. It had all been friendly, nothing more. Hadn't it?
Mrs. Knight smiled slightly. “That's pretty impressive, actually. Chloe's hard to miss.”
“I've been...” – confused, crazy, crashing – “...busy.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“What's keeping you too busy to notice a pretty girl practically doing smoke signals to get your attention.”
“I'm not... I have no interest in pretty girls.”
“Mm.”
“I like guys.”
“Okay.”
“I'm gay.” The words came out before Sam could censor them. They hung there, like evil balloons in the soft spring air, between Sam and his teacher.
Then Mrs. Knight said mildly, “If you were gay, you would like girls. I'm guessing you're trans?”
Sam almost heard those balloons pop, releasing something he'd never meant to let out. He gasped for air, and couldn't speak.
“Don't worry, I won't pry. But I've been the GSA advisor for years, and I do work in theater. It takes all kinds, and you'll meet them there. I know someone from every letter of that LBGTQIA alphabet. I'm good friends with a gay man who makes Marvin look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. If you want to talk about something, I'm listening.”
Sam managed, “When you came over you, um, said you wanted to see me about something?” Because he just couldn't say anything else. His stomach clenched queasily.
“Oh. Yes. I'm working in summer stock starting in June. It's a small production but the set designer is first rate. I think you could learn a lot from him, if you were interested in joining the crew.”
“Like a job? Or volunteering?” Despite the nausea he felt a surge of interest.
“Oh, you should try for a job first, definitely. They can pay you for your time. It would be dogsbody work mostly. Nothing creative. But you could learn a lot, make some contacts. If you want to.”
“Absolutely,” Sam gasped, a bit dizzy from the turns of the conversation. “I've loved doing sets this year. I'm interested.”
“And you have a real talent for it. I'll get you the job info and give you a recommendation.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Knight nodded. She turned as if to go, but added quietly, “Are you being careful with the binding? On your chest? Ace bandages and duct tape can cause problems if you're not careful.”
And wham, right in the solar plexus again. Sam couldn't keep from pressing a hand to his chest. “How did you know?”
“Last year, you had a bustline.”
“Mm.” He just gave up. “Yeah. I bought a real binder online now. It's fine.”
“That's good.”
Sam braced himself for the talk. Surely now he'd exposed all his secrets, there would be a lot of discussion and are-you-sure and heavy commentary.
But Mrs. Knight just headed for her car, calling over her shoulder, “Don't let me forget to give you the recommendation letter.”
Sam stood there blinking. At the last moment he called after her, “When you write it...” This was so damned hard. But she'd stopped at the curb and turned back, waiting. “Could you maybe... I know it has to be in my real name, I mean it has to be legal and all, but... could you write that I prefer to be called Sam?”
“Sure.” Mrs. Knight's smile was soft. “I'll tell them I'm sending them the best, most reliable set design student I've had in the last ten years, and they'd be crazy not to hire him. And his name is Sam.”
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Working
~ The Devil's Valentine's Day Challenge
