Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2004 22:17:19 -0500 From: Karla Schulz Subject: The Preppie and The Punk Chapter Six Wow guys. This is truly sad. It's been forever since the last post, you've all probably stopped reading, and I had to check the site to even see what chapter I was up to. But, I'm FINALLY done school (yay me, I didn't drop out of first year university!) and have big plans to stop being so random and late with the chapters. There are 11 chapters in this story, and I fully plan to post them all, just give me time. Thanks SO much to everyone who's written, sorry I've been a bastard and not responded. Welcome to Portland, bitch. --- The Preppie By the end of the day after not seeing even one glimpse of Kevin I start to get a bit worried. I haven't got his schedule totally mapped out in my mind like Simon's and my own but we do have History together and he never showed for that. Stacy, being the only accessible one in addition to the one who'd be the most likely to know his whereabouts, is who I hunt down to ask. "Oy, Stacy!" I call at her from down the hall, she turns and walks to me, smiling. "Yes, darling?" I shake my head. "Very seductive, you sounded like you were talking to your cat," I tease her, but she doesn't bite. I sigh. "Anyway. What I wanted you for actually. D'you know where Kevin's got to?" She takes my arm and we walk down the corridor together. "He's in the hospital visiting Evan for the day." Several emotions-some of them indescribable-hit me all at once, the most prominent being guilt. Evan is Kevin's little brother, the one with Leukemia. Guilt for lots of reasons. Guilty for imagining my life and problems were the centre of the universe and that anything happening around me must have been somehow related. Guilty that Evan, the rare variety of little brother who was never really all that annoying and even could be fun to have around some of the time, was stuck in a hospital while so many others (myself) were up and around, not even appreciating life like he had even before his illness. Guilty, remembering that I too had once gone with Kevin on such visits, often in fact, but hadn't gone or even given him much thought in the months that had passed. So wrapped up in myself I couldn't even visit him. The last time I'd gone to see him I'd said, 'See you again soon, mate'. It had been at least 3 months ago. Also just an extreme sense of sadness thinking of Evan in general, just a nice little kid who loved rugby and playing video games. "Cor, I'd forgotten about him. What a sod. How is he?" As if I didn't know-he was dying. Stacy smiles sadly. "He's still here, hanging in there." We've gone through this before, by now we know what it's like not to know what to say, so we just walk in silence, together with our thoughts. ____________ Mum's home when I get there, but Dad's still at work. "Hi, Mum," I say, trying to be normal. She smiles, there's some sadness in her eyes but it looks like she's trying her hardest to hide it. "Hello, love, how was your day?" I very nearly grimace. "Alright, you know. It was great to get back with some of the old lads again. I was so caught up-with everything-I forgot I was missing them. How 'bout you?" "The same: alright. No complaints, feel like a chat?" Fuck no. But I smile. "Em, well, I'd like that, Mum, but I've a lot of homework to catch up on, and it's a busy day tomorrow, I might even have an early night." Sure, that's not the best way to stay out of suspicion, but is it my fault I can't stand being in the room with either one of them? Again, something like hurt or sadness flashes in her eyes, but she only smiles and tells me to call her if I'm feeling hungry or if I happen to change my mind-fat chance. What I really do when I get up to my room-instead of homework that is-I hunt around, looking the perfect thing to give to Simon Saturday. I know what sort of thing I'm looking for, just not exactly what that thing will be. A ring? A childhood memento? Something homemade? I chuckle-my Hanson CD? Eventually, feeling defeated, I flop onto my bed and stare up at my ceiling. What would Simon want? What could I expect from him? Something great certainly, but what? It's only when I'm sitting up once more, staring despondently around my room, that I hit on the right thing. When I was young, I had a Batman obsession. Just be quiet. I know ALL the jokes. It's probably stupid Batman's fault I'm gay. What does that have to do with anything? Well, you know how at the back of comics they sell stuff? This one time I sent away for a Batman ring. Just this chintzy plastic job, but it held a place in my heart and my hand from 5-9. It was a very long obsession. And I have it still. It's my equivalent to that ratty childhood stuffed animal some kids have. Laugh if you like but it's something I'll have trouble parting with. Mostly 'cause it reminds me of myself when I was younger-simpler times and all that. Plus, I had a mega crush on Robin, and on the round face of the ring there's Batman and Robin crammed together in sort of 'action-style' pose, ready to fight evil. It's no diamond ring, but I hope Simon will like it and get why I want him to have it. The Punk The next day at school is very much like the last. Ro sticks with me gallantly and Kevin, who's back from visiting his little brother, does as well. I'm not sure how I'd be doing without them. Physically they aren't a huge help, but they keep up my spirits. I can only hope Stacy is able to be doing the same for Elliot. One thing though, I want to be able to talk about things with Kevin myself, not just hear a second hand version of things from Rowan. I get him alone during the afternoon interval and we sit on one of the indoor benches our school has all over the place. "So how are you with everything?" I ask his straight away. He smiles. "It's not like I have to worry or anything, about him stealing her, I mean. And I trust Stace. What's more, I don't own her. We've made no promises to each other. It's a pretty casual thing really. I care for her a lot, but I'm not sure we're 'forever' material. Hell, if I tried to stop her, that'd do me a helluva lot of good anyway, so might as well just be okay with it, eh?" I smile back at him. "Good, I'm glad. How 'bout anything else? Your bruther," The nature of his smile changes dramatically. He seems quite surprised I'd ask as well. "Sorry, not my place?" But he shakes his head. "No, it's not that. I was just, 'touched' I guess. Not that you'd ask-everyone does, but you seemed to actually care." "'Course I do! He's your bruther, you're my friend, stands to reason I'd care. So I'll ask again, since you don't mind, how is he? Very sick?" He nods. "Yeah, cancer." "Blimey. That's awful. How long?" "They found out about a bit over a year ago, he was in remission, but that appears to be over now." "So what happens? More chemo or whatever it is they do?" I feel a bit awkward in my ignorance, but Kevin doesn't really seem to mind. "What can be done is being done, other than that, it's up to prayer and hope, I guess." "Are you very close with him?" Again he nods. "Yes, we always were. Long before he got sick. He was always a bit more like a mate than a little brother. Just 2 years younger than me. We always got on, never really fighting like you're 'supposed' to. I still sometimes prefer him over my other friends-no offense." I laugh. "Yeah, well, none taken. I wish I had a little bruther." He glances at me sharply. "Sometime soon I might be saying the same thing." Not knowing what the hell else to do, I put an arm around his shoulders and try to comfort him as he begins to cry. We're late for lessons, but I guess the faculty knows something about what's going on with Kevin's family and everything, and seeing his red eyes when we enter the room, nothing is said. ____________ That evening I have Rowan over, not for the first time, but it's us alone for the first time. "Feel like talking a bit more?" He looks hesitant. "About what?" I smile. "About whatever you'd like, I guess." He returns my smile. "Well, maybe I would. It's not a big deal really, if we're talking about me. I'm just sorta confused by that area of feeling." "Do you have crushes, er, fantasies, that kind of thing?" He laughs nervously. "Let's try to have this sound even MORE like sex ed," he teases. I shake my head sheepishly. "Alright, alright. Sorry. I didn't know what else to ask, feel like answering anyway?" He wrinkles his brow. "That's the thing, I don't really have crushes and things. I mean, how late a bloomer can you be? I like girls for company and I like boys for company, I can appreciate beauty in guys and girls as well. I honestly don't know my preference or leaning or what. I've certainly never been in love, which isn't that odd, I suppose, but no crushes even really. Or if I have them, I can't tell if I'm having them for real, or I'm just convincing myself so I won't feel so out of things." Understanding what he means is a bit difficult for me, having myself been moony on reams of different blokes since before the onset of puberty, though I've now of course settled happily with Elliot. "You've probably just not met the right one yet," I say, hoping it doesn't sound too cliche. He shrugs. "Yeah, probably. I just wish the right one'd show up already. Or even a few of the almost right ones, I don't know if I'm gay or straight or somewhere in the middle." I frown. "Doesn't matter. I mean, that's all just label stuff. You're Rowan, and that's how you rightly should stay. Whoever you end up loving, you'll stay you, so if it's guy, girl, mineral, or vegetable, in the end what lasts is who you started out being." He stares at me for a while, looking like he's in deep thought, until he punches me in the arm. "Vegetable," he mutters to himself, shaking his head as I rub the spot where he fired on me. The Preppie "Batman? Not you too?" Simon says, staring back and forth from me to the ring with an extremely amused look on his face. It's Saturday, I've successfully escaped riding lessons, and we're snuggled together on his bed, in his room. I grin. "What do you mean, 'not me too'?" He laughs. "What you think I mean, though maybe not quite as much as you. I never sent away for Batman memorabilia, but I WAS totally in love with Batman. In fact I think it's all Batman's fault, this poofer thing. Should we sue or something, do you think?" I laugh with him. "I can't believe you were into Batman as well. It must be destiny." He raises a comical eyebrow. "2 Batman fans destined for love and passion? Sure, that story line they keep forgetting to print." I shake my head. "Anyway, do you like it?" His smile grows softer. "Yeah, I've felt a bit lost on your younger years, sad at how much I've missed, but this is like, like... I dunno, I feel it's a connection with your past, and by giving it to me, you're giving me your past as well. Am I totally wrong?" I kiss him very lightly. "Not at all, it's basically what I was aiming for. Glad you like it." "Very much." His face assumes sly look. "Want yours?" "Yes, please!" I say, playing up my eagerness on purpose to sound like a child on Christmas-not totally unlike what I feel anyway. "Where is it?" He turns his back to me, rummages in his pack and faces me once more, holding a thick yellow book. He looks quite nervous. I smile encouragingly. "May I have it?" I ask carefully, he looks so shy. He hands it to me without making eye contact. "Go ahead, open it," he mumbles. I turn to the front page. There's some kid-ish writing on it. It reads, "Simon E Kelly, aged 11, Peat Street, 1997." "A diary?" I ask, choking back the emotion badly. He looks up cautiously. "I guess our great minds were thinking kind of alike." Giving someone your childhood diary is rather different than admitting you once had a Batman obsession. It's much more personal and intimate. I can barely believe he's trusting me with the thoughts of his 11-year-old self. "Well?" he asks, unable to control his worried curiosity any longer. I beam up at him with moist eyes. "This is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most incredible, special, amazing gift I have ever received. I can't imagine you finding a better way to say how much you love me, thank-you so much." He grins and hugs me. When I'm preparing to leave much later I'm almost eager to go, because as soon as I get home I plan to begin absorbing his diary. "So, you're getting tired of me at last," he says, pretending to be serious and attempting to look mournful, since I suppose he'd noticed I'm not lingering in the same way I usually do when we're parting. "Not at all," I say, hugging him tightly, even though he was only joking. "I just can't wait to get started on this," and I hold up the diary. He grins shyly. "Dunno what to say, I just hope you aren't shocked." I give him a hard look. "Why would I be?" He shrugs. "Oh, you probably won't be. Just read it, think what you like." I kiss his softly. "I'll do my best at calling you, or getting a message to you somehow through Stacy or something. Alright?" He nods. "Right, bye?" "Yeah." It's habit for him to stand at the door and watch me drive off and for me to wave as I do. He does, I do, and then I'm gone down the street, with his diary resting safely on my lap. ____________ Holed up in my room I go through 11-14 with Simon. I experience his first most basic crushes, his struggles with 'feeling so bloody weird all the time' around the subjects of them, his school yard pranks and his first fist fight with a friend and crush at the time. 'Bleeding on someone else really brings you closer together,' he wrote of their relationship afterwards. Described in detail at the end of every day are his first few weeks as a first former, discussed are all the 'yosh looking' boys in his lessons. After his 13th birthday the entries get more sporadic, but when they start up again at some point when he was 14 I am shocked by their content. One such entry reads, Damn maths. I nearly failed our test. Too much preppie gazing I guess! How can I help it though? It's the only class we have together, and who wouldn't rather stare at a beautiful face than listen to some old cow talk about the square root of whatever? It's been months, this crush. I think I may be developing an obsession. That can't be healthy at my age. He was looking miserable yet again today. I bet I could make him smile! Or so I wish. I'm completely not on his register. Doesn't know we share the same air I bet. I could find out his name easily, but I don't want to know it. Anyway, if I started nosing around his life it'd be a bit too much like stalking. Bet he's a total sod anyway, only I can't help but think he isn't. Which is daft. I know nothing of who he really is. Well that's not true. My 3 treasured facts about him are: 1) He's crap at maths, but it's only cause he never listens in class and could probably do better with more effort 2) He has 3 close friends, 2 boys and a girl-his girlfriend?(!) 3) Looks dead miserable for at least 40 minutes a day (our entire math set). Oh, and I suppose I know things like he's rich and popular, but that doesn't have anything to do with your personality. Let's hope. The idea that Simon could have cared about me for so long is enough to flatten me to my back. I'd only begun watching him this year. He'd had my full attention quite quickly, but going from his journal, and the many entries similar to that one, he'd been watching me for nearly 2 years before we spoke for the first time. It's an incredible, though rather mixed, feeling. Mixed because I felt guilty, for one that he had waited so long, never expecting I'd give him the time of day, and also that his love for me seemed to go so much deeper. Or maybe just that it was more established. Mostly though I am just filled with the overwhelming desire to find him and hold him and kiss him and assure him that I might not have loved him then but that I most certainly loved him now. Since my parents, are, quite to my surprise and delight, not even home, I ring him immediately. "Simon!" I say once I know it's him. "Um, yeah?" he replies. "I've been reading your journal." "Oh yeah," he says, trying to sound casual and not succeeding. "It surprised me," Well there's the understatement of the year. "Was it, an um, pleasant surprise?" he asks softly. "Oh yes! I can't believe it hardly, since you were 14?" "Yeah, well, mostly WHEN I was 14. I tried to get over you in 4th form. Push you out of my mind sort of. But then this year you started invading my thoughts again. It's weird 'cause in a way I didn't even associate you with the image of that 14-year-old I loved for 40 minutes a day. You were something new to me, though I knew I fancied you right off,. I didn't even really remember it properly, I guess 'cause you grew so much over this last summer your whole body changed. I'd even half forgotten about the diary until a little while ago. When we met, I didn't even put together it was you." "But you realized eventually, right?" "Yeah," he says, again sounding shy. "You never said..." "Well, what do you say? 'I was in mad teenage lust with you when we were 14 and it's your fault I almost didn't pass the lesson we shared?' Not likely." "If it wasn't destiny before, it damn well is now." He laughs. "Fate." "Exactly." "How come you can call, are your parents not in?" "They've gone somewhere, I couldn't believe my luck when I got 'ome and it was empty." "Could the pressure be off already?" "Dunno, I won't get my hopes up just yet, but I'll take it whenever I can get it." "Me too. I wish I could go over, but that wouldn't be safe, I don't reckon, since you've no idea where they are or when they'll be back." His tone sounds a bit as if he'd like me to convince him it'd be fine if he came over, but as much as I'd like to, I can't safely suggest it. "You'd better not, but let's talk for awhile longer, might be a few days before we get another chance like this one." "Sad but true, so, pick a topic?" The Punk On Monday morning before I leave for school Mum and I have a short chat about how things have been sorted out and what it'll be like at school. She is clearly not especially happy with our 'new arrangement' and on her face is a very worried expression. "It sounds very dangerous, not just you in school, but all this deceit of Elliot's parents, suppose they find out?" I won't allow my mind to go there. "They already have once, so we know what they'd do. Only we can't be away from each other, and we can't be open about it, so 'deceit' is our only option. We'll just have to be extremely careful, which I KNOW is what we were trying to be last time, but if the act keeps working at school they'll have no reason to suspect." "And what about you?" I avoid her eyes. "I can take care of myself." She snorts. "I hope that's not your only plan of defense." Her tone makes me smile. "I'll be okay, really. I've some mates to watch out for me, so no worrying, alright?" She shakes her head at me. "You are driving me to premature grayness, my son," she says, giving my hair a rough but loving tousle. "But you should be heading off soon, shouldn't you? Or would you like a ride, I could manage to be ready in time to get you there," she offers. I smile at her, but make my scan of her bathrobe and curlered hair overly obvious. "Awful boy." I get up from the table. "Don't trouble yourself, I'll be used to the bus again soon enough." "Tomorrow if you'd like." I kiss her head. "Thanks, Mum, you really ARE the greatest." She nods and pats my cheek. "Thank you, love, now get going." As I'm heading out the door I see a car approaching. It's a very new sports model, not quite in Elliot's car's league, but definitely not something to scoff at and I wonder what one like it could be doing in my neighborhood. Then it stops right in front of my house and the driver honks at me. I slowly approach. The window rolls down, and Rowan's laughing face is exposed. "Should see your face, mate!" he chortles. "Honestly. I'm not from Mars. Get in." Obediently, I do. "You didn't have to give me a lift," I say to him once inside. He smiles. "Course I didn't, that's why I wanted to. Besides, I figured Elliot'd ruined you for buses. It's a step down in the car department, but the company's an improvement, right?"he teases. Playing along, I nod solemnly. "By far and away." ____________ The new routine of school soon sets in. With Rowan, Rob, and Kevin lending a hand I'm usually physically alright, though I've managed a wicked gash or two from locker room fun, both requiring stitches and trips to Casualty, and there's normally about one or two pushing sessions a week. Not that that's much of a big deal, I've been in plenty rougher mosh pits. Kind of a laugh, really. What's more in these cases I often suddenly find myself not as alone as I first thought. Unexpected aid has been given more than once when I originally believed myself to be in for serious trouble, without either of the three to help out. Before long I begin to recognize by face a few of my helpers and the smiles and nods they occasionally send me in the halls are a welcome change from the threats, taunts, and glares. Besides, the physical stuff isn't really what gets to me anyway, it's the seeing of Elliot, that 'so close and yet so far away' thing that brings me trouble. Depending on my mood, knowing he's not enjoying himself either makes it better or worse. It's terrible having to watch him pretend to enjoy himself, with those 'preppie tossers' as Rob puts it, even though I can easily see he isn't. It's obvious to me at all times, but there are certain looks he gets on his face when he's around one prep in particular, this Tim or Tommy something, which to me seem like you'd have to be BLIND to miss. The looks and smiles-even more than the physical backup I get from those half 'strangers' whose faces I know, the increasingly close friendships I've developed with Rowan, Rob, and Kevin, and of course the evenings and weekends spent with Elliot that are occurring with increasing regularity-these are the only things that get me through the days and keep me going. The bruises hurt less, the comments mean less, and in the end pretty much nothing else really seems to matter, as long as I have Elliot's love. The Preppie It's weird, but the way we're kept apart during the school day only serves to bring me and Simon closer together. We treasure our afternoons and weekends together SO much now. Absence making the heart grow fonder and all that. After the first couple of times it gets to be that we aren't half in tears every five seconds and we're able to just laugh and talk again. A lot of the time we just hang out like any two mates would do, and we even do stuff with the others once or twice, though never all at the same time, but then there are the other times when we're just all over each other. We haven't gone, well, as far as you can go, yet, but I'm thinking we might soon. 'When the time is right'. ___________ "What time did you say your olds might come home?" Simon asks me lazily from across the room, where he's been lying on my bed, alternately pretending to scream in horror at my current choice of music and whining that I should go over and make out with him instead of wasting my time on the Internet. "Um, about 7, why?" "Have you checked the time recently?" I glance at the clock so fast I almost give myself whiplash. "Bastard! You scared me, it's only 5." He chuckles. I launch myself at him and we tumble around my bed until we hear it make an unhealthy creaking sound and decide it may just be time to stop. He kisses me, declaring he had already won anyway. "Won?" I demand. He nods. "Well, I got you over here, didn't I?" I throw my head back and laugh. "Idiot. Absolute idiot. 'Just call my name and I'll be there', you know that." He nods with a grin. "Yeah, but why not make it interesting?" After our usual 15 minutes saying goodbye in his front hall I drag myself back into my car and return myself home. When I arrive I see my mum's, and only my mum's, shoes, sitting neatly beside where I usually kick off mine. I figure I have to at least stop in and say hello (about all I've been doing lately, so far they haven't seemed to notice). I find her sitting in the living room and I'm still grinning, so I just do my best to direct it at her. "Hi, Mum." I say happily. Instead of responding in kind she asks, "How is Simon?" In a bizarrely calm voice. I'm staggered. I even physically take several stumbly steps backward. "What?" In situations of shock or pain my brain just spits out the word 'what' as some kind of self-preservation, stalling technique. She doesn't sigh or roll her eyes or laugh or do anything; except to calmly repeat her question. Running through my mind lightning fast are 'how could she know?' 'did she know?' 'was it a bluff?' 'some kind of a joke?' How long could I hold off, I'd say 'what', she'd repeat the question, over and over. I just needed a few minutes to figure her out-just a few minutes! "Mum, what do you mean? I don't have the foggiest notion of how he is, I haven't spoken to him in ages." When in doubt, lie-right? "Elliot-come off it. He was just here, not 20 minutes ago." "That's not-he wasn't!" How could she know? They'd been away? A horrible thought -: security cameras? Surely they wouldn't... "Elliot, just tell me. I know what I'm saying is true, you know what I'm saying is true. Stop wasting time." I give in and slump down into a chair near her. "When did you find out we were still seeing each other? Just now?" She shakes her head, nearly smiling as well. "There was no 'finding out' I've known the whole time." "What?" It's not processing, I've missed something-this isn't happening! She clucks at me. "Elliot, a mother knows her son. You'd changed since you first met him up to the time we realized you were involved sexually with Simon and you never changed back. But none of that matters really. I never believed you'd split in the first place." "I don't understand-not even right when I told you?" "Not even then." "You seemed like you did at the time." She smiles. "My own act-for your dad." I gape at her as her smile continues. "How did I know?" She asks my question for me. I'm able to nod. "Part of me-a very large part-very much wanted to believe you. But I couldn't help what I saw, nor could I deny it." "I don't know what you mean." I say quietly. "You gave a brilliant performance, Elliot, and you had your dad completely fooled-you still have, by the way. Only your eyes gave you away to me. With your mouths and your bodies you said one thing, but your eyes told a very different story. Beyond the concern I saw in your eyes and the, well it can only be described as 'glee', in Simon's-because things were such a 'success' I suppose, there was another feeling that registered clearly. That was what surprised me so. There was LOVE in both your eyes. It was then I realized for the first time that what you felt for each other went far beyond what I'd originally thought. When I came to know you were engaging in sexual activity with another boy what immediately sprung to mind was cheap sex and perhaps even drugs somehow as well. Never did it even enter my thoughts that you two could love each other. It shocked me." "But you... you haven't said anything, or tried to keep us from seeing each other..." I stammer. In fact hadn't it been she-not my dad-who had rushed everything back to its normal schedule once more? Had it not been she who had waved off the idea of furthering the process of the restraining order, stating it was 'obviously unnecessary now'? She nods. "As I said, I was very shocked to discover you felt LOVE for another person-never mind another boy-at your age, but it was something I wasn't sure how to fight against. Sex romps and negative influences can be nipped in the bud, but love is a harder nut to crack. What's more, when I realized you loved him, the new way you'd been acting suddenly rushed itself on me. The voice inside my head asked me rather sharply 'hasn't he seemed much happier these past weeks? More outgoing and less given to mood swings?' I wasn't sure what I was fighting against-your own happiness? I was extremely upset to think you were actually gay and not just experimenting or 'trying it on' but the fact was and is you are happy when you are with this Simon boy. Which is the only reason I knew you'd just been together. I haven't been spying or having you followed. But when you walked into the room just now you had a grin on your face and perhaps even an extra bounce in your step. That's unmistakably Simon's effect on you. I don't understand it-how or why you could love another boy but that you DO is something I can't deny. It's not something I would say I'm 'comfortable' with but I like seeing you happy. I couldn't," her voice wavers a bit, "knowingly take away the source of that happiness. I hadn't planned on letting you in on my awareness of your activities but when you wandered in with that smile on your face I felt such a strong longing to share it with you. I'd like to be in your life, even if I don't quite understand, even if it's still taking getting used to. We don't need to talk about it now or ever if you don't feel comfortable or if you're still angry-which would be understandable-but I'd very much enjoy talking to you again." Have you ever totally broken down? I mean full stop, total breakdown? If you've never bawled in your mum's arms as she whispers soothing words into your ear and strokes your back, I highly recommend you try it sometime. You'll be amazed at how great you feel when you're done. "Oh, Mum," I say, still sobbing quite steadily. "Thank-you-just for everything. Not just the not telling, I mean. Thank-you for missing me too." We talk for a very long time. I tell her about things. Even stuff like how we met and a short bit about the first kiss. She's shocked and delighted to discover we haven't had sex, she's touched (though again, a bit shocked) to hear about our wedding in the back seat of my car. But my favorite thing-my absolute favorite thing--- is that when I tell her about everything Simon's been going through in school, she's so furious she swears aloud, something my mum usually never does when I'm in earshot. "This cannot be allowed to continue," she says forcefully. A question forms in my mind and demands to be asked. "Mum, did you really call the HM or was that something you told dad?" I realize too late I 'shouldn't know that' but she ignores my slip. "Oh, I called him." I flinch at her adamant tone. "But not for the reason you think. I called to ask that Simon got looked after, since I guessed he would be getting a rough time with it. He assured me they'd do their best but what you've told me hardly counts as someone's best! No, this is certainly something I'll need to deal with. Will you trust me to handle it?" Handle it? Part one of the team I've been fearfully hiding from the past weeks is now offering to HELP me-help us? I throw my arms around her once more. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you," I say, kissing her on both cheeks and on the top of her head. "Would you like to call him?" she asks, smiling. WOULD I? Fear sets in suddenly again. I eye her suspiciously. Could this all be a trap somehow? Some attempt to convince my father perhaps? She pats my knee. "Please, Elliot. Have faith. Just believe me, okay?" I look into her eyes. It's then I realize something about HER. What she'd observed in my eyes I now see in her own. Realized too-that it had been there the whole time, I'd just never allowed myself to see it because I was too angry. I nod. "I do, I think I will, call-if it that's okay. You know. Get him up to speed." She nods and I quickly leave the room. Though part of me wants desperately to call Simon right away and tell him everything in one breathless rush I force myself to lie down on my bed and think about things for a while. It's incredible what your brain won't register if you're mad enough or you just won't let yourself see it. Even more than the love I missed in her eyes, I totally blocked out the fact that I missed my mum. That I missed the 9:30 in the evening talks we would have sometimes over cucumber and peanut-butter sandwiches when she'd just gotten home from work. How every once in a while we'd laugh so loud over something it'd get my dad's attention and he'd come join us, leaving his former place on the couch in the living room or in his study. I'd been so angry I hadn't let myself feel the hurt caused by her rejection and our lack of real time together since the 'break-up' with Simon. I'd been too angry, and too focused on Simon, to really feel anything else. After about a good hour of deep thought I ring Simon. "Miss me already? Can't say I blame you." Cheeky bastard. "Not really actually, I have news." "News?" "Yes, and it's shocking." "Well, cummon then, tell me!" "Well now, I dunno, are you sure you're prepared for it?" "Elliot! Tell me, please???" "With a cherry on top?" He sighs. "Yes, if you like, with a cherry on top." "My mum knows." "Holy shit! What?! She knows?! Are you okay?" I laugh. "I'm fine." "Whadda you mean, 'you're fine'? You did say she knows, didn't you?" "Yeah." "Elllliot," he whines. "Well it's just, she knew the whole time! And apparently she's okay with it! Well, not okay exactly, a bit shaken up still, but she's not going to try and stop us. We even have her blessing, sort of." "That's incredible. I can't believe it-I mean I can! Elliot, that's bloody fantastic! You must be so happy!" I smile to myself. "Yeah, I really am. I didn't even realize how much it hurt until now to not talk to her anymore." "Mums are pretty important when you get right down to it. It's 'cause they HAVE to love you, I think, it sort of takes the pressure off." "I'd thought she'd stopped." "Loving you, you mean?" "Yeah, or that she didn't love the real me. Just her idea of me." "Not a fun thing to feel." "No." "You never said, but I as much as guessed." "Sorry I never brought it up, it wasn't that I didn't think you'd be able to help, just..." "I know, my mum's been so great. I didn't exactly know what you were going through." "Still, you always come to me about school, and I don't know what that's like." "Sure, you do it your own way. I've said a million times, I'm not the only one who's suffering." "Haven't exactly had any stitches, have I?" "TELL me you're not still feeling guilty about this!" I sigh. "I can't help it, it's my nature. It's ingrained." "Cor!" "Please don't be upset." "I can't help it, it's ingrained,." he says sarcastically. Before I can say anything he apologizes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I wish I hadn't even thinken it." "It's okay." "Is this ever going to get better?" "What?" "This. You beating yourself up, me getting mad, then apologizing, you telling me it's okay. It's not really okay, is it?" "Maybe not, I don't know." "I love you, I just wish you..." "Would change?" I ask, the hurt clearly evident in my voice. "Would like yourself more," he finishes. "Oh." "Don't you dare start to think I don't love you or wish you were all these things you aren't. I just wish you would be able to see yourself like I see you, like everyone else sees you! I only want you to see what's really there." "I thought I was getting better." "You are, it's just I hate to see you hurting yourself." "Thanks." "Why?" "For being patient, and for caring so much." "I'm not going to stop, you know." "I know, Batman." He laughs. "I thought YOU were Batman, and I was Robin?" "No, you're Batman." "Oh, alright. But you can't keep being Robin if you don't start saying stuff like 'holy flying cheese curds' every once and awhile." "When did Robin EVER say that?" I demand while I nearly choke with laughter. "You're the Batman freak, look in your back issues." "Idiot." "Yep." "I think I have to go, idiot, my dad should be home soon." "Fair enough. Love you," "Me too, bye." ____________ It's been a week, actually a bit more than a week, even with Mum, since I've last been alone with Simon. Mostly 'cause of school things really. Nothing to do with my parents at all. School work and school friends. Now that I'm 'back' they all seem to feel entitled to monopolizing my time. Haven't been able to phone either, always too late home or never the chance to arrange it somehow. Then, out with Mum, buying some groceries, I run into Rowan, of all people. Brought to my attention is that I'd missed him as well. But he and Kevin have had to stick with Simon. Still, no one from school here, so I grin. "'Lo, Rowan, how's things?" He looks equally pleased to see me. "Not bad. Been awhile eh?" "Yeah, well. Not much to do about it," I say with a half-hearted smile and a shrug. He nods. "Suppose so. Where'd your mum run off to?" having noticed she's disappeared. I look around and then shrug. "Dunno, shopping, I reckon." "Ahh, so THAT'S what they do in this place!" he says as if this is new and wondrous information. It's weird though somehow, I feel a bit like I don't know what to say to him. Like I'm not in sync with him anymore. It's been much longer than a week since Ro and I have spoken. "Err, so how's Simon?" I ask, realizing with a stab of something not quite like but similar to jealously, that he probably DOES know better than me. Rowan smiles but looks a bit uncomfortable. "He's well," he replies, looking worse by the second. "What? Is something the matter? You've gone all yellow." A bit of an overstatement, but I'd needed to get his attention. "It's nothing-he really IS fine. I only felt, well, that it was a bit wrong for YOU to have to ask ME. Look, when did you see each other last?" I know the exact day, hour, second, but I don't respond immediately. After giving myself a few seconds, I say, "Was the Friday of last week." I couldn't bring myself to tack something like 'I think' on at the end. He gives this a minute's thought. "So what's been stopping you? I thought your mum was on your side now." I nod. "She is. It's not her. The other lads from school, always coming over or assuming I'm wanting to go over to one of theirs. The way we four were before, I never really realized how accurate the term 'pack' really is. Most of them don't go bloody anywhere if the whole crowd's not going as well. D'you've any idea what it's like to have six or seven people breathing down your neck pretty much all that time?" His smile is closer to being a grimace than was probably intended. "Yeah. I've something of an idea." I really am an idiot. Course he does, only it isn't exactly six or seven 'friendly' breathers in Rowan's case. Simon's case. Nor Kevin's. I sigh. "Sorry." A realer smile this time. "No reason for you to be. And I've been thinking. I'm going to get you two together. Simon's been wilting considerably lately-daft of me not to have realized why, and you must be feeling things along the same lines. If his house doesn't work, maybe you can even use mine. How 'bout it then? Any way for you to detach yourself from the Hive?" If the pack was problem number one, getting something arranged when we had to arrange to even speak on the phone was most certainly problem number two. I nod. "I'll find a way, Mum might even help, now that I think about it. When?" He laughs. "Someone's certainly an eager beaver. But I find it strangely cute, so don't worry. Yeah, why not just come to mine? I'll give you some time for privacy, but I'd like to catch up a bit myself. We'll have Kevin and Stacy over as well. Suit you okay?" I grin. "Brilliant. And if you lot don't mind a bit of kissing and holding, we won't need much other privacy. Well, maybe a few minutes." "Few minutes? That all? Quick on the draw, are we?" Long time or not, Rowan will remain a teasing bastard until the end of time. I shake my head and roll my eyes. "You haven't changed." He grins. "Saying you'd want me to?" I laugh. "No, I'm glad actually. I think I'd be quite sad if you had-even if it was a good change." He nods, looking serious. "Know what you mean. Like I know you love Simon and that's why you miss him but we're still mates. I miss us hanging out." "I've missed you as well. But have you even told me when we're all to meet up? If you've said I've forgotten." "Don't think I did. Any day should be fine. His mum's turned into the biggest softy, she'll lift curfew for anything these days. A weekend might be harder for you to manage so why not tomorrow or the day after? Sooner the better, right?" "Let me find Mum and ask her if she knows which would be better, well, just come along." We walk around until we find her in produce, looking at cheese. "Mum?" I say. "Ro and I are trying to plan a way for the whole gang to meet up, we were thinking tomorrow or Wednesday, could you manage either of those days with Dad?" She smiles, and looks pleased that I'm wanting to see the 'whole gang' and not just Simon. She's trying her best, but I do think it's still hard for her. "Tomorrow'd be best, convincing your dad to stay late'll be no trouble as we're slightly behind anyway. No one will be home but feel free to make up a story if those children who are always around get suspicious." "Thanks, Mum," I say with a totally genuine smile. I turn back to Rowan. "You have somewhere to be or something? What are you even doing here anyway?" He grins. "Stalking you." I don't give him the satisfaction of getting or looking upset. "Just kidding," he continues. "I was just running a job for Mum, which shouldn't have taken this long, in fact I really should be going. But tomorrow, okay? Do what you can to get yourself and Stacy over to mine as soon after school as you're able, cool?" I nod. "Double cool with knobs." We both chuckle. "See you then." As he's walking off he turns and shouts, "I'll give Simon your love!" Loudly. Loudly enough for several shoppers to turn and stare at me. I go red as a-not a beet! They aren't even red! They're purple. Red as a tomato. Cursing him silently, I get Mum and we quickly head to the nearest cashier. The Punk "Guess where I've just been." Hello to you too, Rowan. "The grocery." "How'd you know that?" he asks, shock evident in his voice. I laugh. "I rang awhile ago, your Mum said." "Ah." "SO?" I ask with emphasis. "So?" "So you were at the grocery, that was all?" "No! No." "Well, tell me." "In a minute." "You're upset I knew you'd been shopping, aren't you?" I ask with a smile. I hear laughing. "Yeah, actually. But I was only teasing. While there, something very exciting happened." "Not quite over it then?" More laughter. "Sorry. I saw your favorite person." "What, you mean they have mirrors as the grocery now?" I joke. He snorts. "Idiot. ELLIOT. I saw Elliot." It may sound daft, but my heart still beats faster every time I think about him or hear his name. "How was he?" "Terrible. You're a really bad teacher." "I'M the idiot! Cor! Get your mind out of the gutter, will you!" Course, I was laughing throughout, so I don't think he'll really believe I'm upset. "Just having a bit of fun, YOU definitely need to lighten up. Anyway, he was all right, misses you though. Me too apparently. It's the pack, they hardly leave him alone for a piss." "I know, so it's always been, but it's getting marginally worse all that time." "But no more long faces. We're all going to mine tomorrow after school." "Yeah?" I ask, daring to hope. "Yeah. You'll get your mum to lift curfew, eh?" I laugh. "Right, no worries. Thanks, mate. It's brilliant of you to set this up for us." Rowan is a true friend. "It was no sweat. And it'll be great for all of us to hang out again. There's not much else to report-talk to you in the A.M?" Rowan hasn't failed to pick me up yet since that first time. "Fab. Love you, sexy," It's our joke now. "I'll be wanking with you in mind, hot-stuff." Laughing, we both hang up. ____________ Okay, I know it's stupid. But I'm nervous. I mean, it's been a while since we've even talked! What if he's like, I don't know, acquired a strange and bizarre love for 'I Dream Of Genie' repeats since we were last in contact? What if he's become a savage 'won't eat anything that casts a shadow' vegan who won't kiss me unless I stop eating animal products? See! I told you it was stupid. I KNOW it's stupid. But I'm STILL nervous. So nervous I'm starting to care about shit like what I'm supposed to wear. I mean, I don't think about crap like that. Everything I own's black anyway, right? No real MATCHING problems. Sigh. What about my hair? Looking a little too scruffy? Too many holes in the jeans? This leather studded bracelet or that one? It's official. I've turned into a girl. A shallow one. ___________ "What's with you, as if I didn't know?" Rowan teases me from across our lunch table. I scowl at him. Kevin leans over for a closer look. "What do you think, Ro, could it be the measles? Bubonic plague? He could be contagious, maybe we should send him to the nurse?" "Fuck off, losers," I say, trying to sound mad. They laugh. "Oh, get a grip. Just a few more hours, okay, sunshine?" Rowan then proceeds to give me a little jab with his fork. I wave him away. "Cor, all of you. Piss off." They look at each other, feigning deepening concern. "Could it be bitchyitis?" Kevin asks, looking to Rowan for his professional opinion. Rowan looks skeptical. "Maybe the painters are in. Poofs get periods, don't they?" They burst out laughing. "I swear," I growl, fighting off a grin. "I'll kill both of you. One at a time or together, take your pick." They each slap me heartily on the back. "Lighten up, it's nearly time, you look fantastic, he loves you and couldn't care less about stuff like that anyway, and I just talked to him yesterday-no freakish alternations in personality, no moves to fanatic political, environmental, or religious beliefs. Chill." I sigh. "I've been trying-s'not working so far." They smile. "And that's what we're here for," Kevin informs me. "To piss you off and annoy, thus keeping you distracted until he's in your lap and we're all making obscene noises and wails of protest." I smile. "Thanks, mates, I hate you both." They laugh, and time seems to pass more quickly after that. Once school ends we all get into Rowan's car and drive to his house, it's brilliant but as with the cars, not quite in Elliot's range. A mansion to Elliot's palace. I'm nervous all over again, knowing I'll be seeing him in mere minutes. Or worse, expecting to see him, but half believing he somehow just will not be able to show up. They tell me to 'calm down', to 'stop pacing on the rugs, bastard', and to 'have something to drink for fuck's sake, give you something to do', but are not, I can tell, genuinely irritated with me. ____________ Here's our meeting, in Stages. Stage 1: The SHY Stage. The Shy Stage involves mumbling, the avoidance of eye contact, and snickering from the members of the peanut gallery. Stage 2: The Horny Stage. The Horny Stage involves the realization there's this totally hot person right in front of you who you usually aren't even allowed to LOOK at but are now allowed to maul and have a tongue wrestling match with. This Stage also involves snickering and may include, depending on the moods of those around you, cat calling. Stage 3: The All Talk All At Once Stage. Stage 3 involves exactly what it sounds like, it involves-a whole lot of both of you and that hot person trying to talk at once and then laughing. A little predictably, Stage 3 involves some snickering as well. Stage 4: The Stop Snickering At Us and Get Out of Here, You Bastards Stage. After some fake pouts and just a WEE more snickering, Stage 4 reverts back to Stage 1, rapidly followed by Stage 2 again but for considerably longer and finally we reach Stage 5. Stage 5: The Damn, We've Been Rude to Those Cool Friends of Ours Who Always Support Us and Arranged This for Us Stage. Happily, Stage 5 involves a lot of joking around, quality time spent talking and hanging out with friends. Some snickering may occur. And now-our parting! In Stages! Okay, okay. Not in Stages. It's a bit hard to have a soppy farewell with someone when you're acutely aware there are 3 other sets of eyes watching you, all thinking, not to mention saying, stuff like 'aww, aren't they cute?' and 'this is just one long painful Kodak moment!' Naturally shooting daggers at them with our eyes only makes them worse. But they only play with us just long enough to thoroughly annoy but leaving us a long enough amount of time to say goodbye before either one of us really has to go. Anyway, since no preps are likely to be wandering around my neighborhood, Elliot's gonna drive me home. Just for fun we revert back to Stage 1 one more time for the first few minutes once we're alone again. Then on to a mellower, more cuddly version of Stage 2. We pepper each other's cheeks and neck with light little kisses and do the whispering sweet nothings into each other's ear thing. Then a few tight hugs before we start teasing each other and pretending to be tired of the other. After a few more minutes spent with us taking part in the extremely enjoyable activity of staring lovingly into each other's eyes, Kevin fake breaks down the door, which wasn't even locked, and they all stroll back in, stupid cheesy grins on their faces. "Yessss?" I say, pretending to be miffed by their intrusion. Kevin shrugs. "When we didn't hear laughing, talking, or furniture getting knocked around, we thought maybe you'd choked on each other's saliva or something." Elliot goes bright red and I just shake my head. "Sad, Vinnie, even for you." Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I call Kevin 'Vinnie'? Well I do. You'll see why. He smiles proudly. "Pretend all you like, Mone," pronounced 'moan'. "You know you love it." I get up off the couch to give him a push. He pushes back and we slap each other a few times before we both silently agree to turn on Rowan who's been laughing his arse off. Elliot and Stacy look on, amused, but trying to look superior. When we finally get out of there, we walk to Elliot's car holding hands. Every once and awhile you've just gotta say 'screw it' and take a risk or two. "I'm so glad we had this, I've missed you SO much," he tells me, though not for the first time, once we're both inside the car. I nod. "Me too, but it was great being all five of us again. I'm only sorry Rob couldn't come." I shrug. "But he's not really into the group thing." Elliot's looking a bit worried. "It's not 'cause of me, is it? He's not like still mad about how I treated him or anything, is he?" Here's one of those difficult situations where you have to tell someone an acceptable version of something while managing to not lie to them at the same time. And you can't take too long to respond or it looks like you're trying to make something up, which half you are. "No," I say, starting off simply hoping my tone is confident and reassuring. "He gets why you did that." So okay. A little truth bending, but no out and out lying. Look, I'll explain it in a second, just have patience. "It's shitty still, I hoped we'd be friends." I nod. "You are, like you were before and just 'cause you can't talk doesn't mean you're not any more. You don't like hate each other or anything." "But he's pissed at me, right?" Elliot asks with a knowing smile. Damn. Memo to self - learn to lie better. Er, learn to 'bend truth' better. I sigh. "Sort of. He does understand why you feel like you have to hide but it really bugs him how much I get harassed now when he doesn't see anything happening to you-not that he wants to see you getting hurt or anything, it just makes him feel angry. And I dunno, that's basically it. He still thinks you're an okay guy." He smiles sadly. "I was always sort of a duty to him." Not true. "No, you weren't!" I protest. He shrugs. "It's okay. Not all your friends have to love me. I don't really mind. I mean I always liked him but I get why he'd be upset with me. I'd hate anyone who I thought was endangering you too-thus my self loathing issues." Quite astonishingly he managed to say all that and finish it off with a grin. "And that's something you're gonna snap out of any one of these days, eh?" He nods. "Oh yeah. Any day now." I laugh. "I notice we haven't started driving yet." He looks around, out the windows and over at me. "You seem to be right." "What d'ya think we should do about it?" I ask with a perfectly straight face. He shrugs. "I could start driving?" "Sounds like a plan." "Look, one thing, okay?" I say just before getting out of the car, having reached my house. "Rob never thought you were a burden, he really liked you and always had fun hanging out with us or just you in class. And he really couldn't come today, not just 'cause he's a bit put out about things. Don't think he never liked you for yourself, okay?" He nods. "Sure, see you later." A quick peck and he's off.