Date: Tue, 23 Jul 2019 11:07:25 -0500 From: Jeff Moses Subject: Powell and Me 8 This is a work of fiction. No resemblance to persons living or dead is intended. If you are underage, or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, leave now. Please play safe--I don't want to lose any fans! If you enjoy this site, be cool and click the "Donate" link at the top of the index and contribute to maintain it! (Nifty is a 501-c-3 non-profit organization.) Looking for more of my stories? I'm honored. Enter "chainedcoot" on Nifty's Search page. And feedback is always welcome! Authors retain rights to and title to their submitted works. (Please consult Nifty's submission guidelines for more information.) Powell and Me 8 As soon as the bus pulled up at school, I got off as fast as I could. It wasn't that I was afraid of Powell, of course. It was just to reassure him that I understood what he wanted: no trouble, right? "Eddie?" I turned and found Mike Silvers standing in front of me. "Hey! Hi, Mike! What's up?" "I heard you were starting a club ..." I smiled. "Word gets around fast, I guess! For LGBTQ people and our friends, you know? The School Board has to okay it, and then there'll be an announcement in the fall, like with the other clubs." "So you're ..." "Yeah, Mike. I'm gay." That was easier to say than I thought it would be. Felt good, even! I smiled again. Mike took a quick look around and lowered his voice. "But you didn't tell anyone about ... us?" "No! Never mentioned your name, anyway." Mike's face turned pale. "What does that mean? Did you tell--" "I said I'd--" I shrugged-- "Met someone in the seventh grade, that's all--no names, or anything." "Please don't. I ... I'm a Christian now, see, and--" Something happened in my stomach. "What--what do you mean? I thought you were a Luth--" "I had a--a revelation, I think it was--about the difference between being just Lutheran and being-- being a real Christian. Eddie, it's ... it's like finding the answer to every quiz they ever gave you in school! I wish--" "So what you're saying is that you aren't gay, right?" "That was ... Eddie, I'm not! I swear! I don't know what--" "Mike! No problem! All we did was explore, like kids do. Heck, stuff happens when you're a kid, right?" "Yeah!" Mike nodded his head: I was saying exactly the words he needed to hear. "Just stuff!" "Just kid stuff," I grinned. "Fun kid stuff, I admit." "No! It was--I didn't like what--" "Really? Seems to me--" "I didn't know!" Mike practically wailed. "It's your fault! You--" "It's nobody's fault, Mike. Neither of us set out to be evil, or anything!" I grabbed his shoulders. "It was just kid stuff, that's all!" Mike jerked his body free. "You could have made me a gay!" "Nobody makes you gay, Mike--any more than they ... I don't know, make you tall, or something. I don't know what they told you in that church, but nobody makes you gay!" He started to answer, but I plowed on. "Heck! You're not gay, right?" Mike nodded eagerly. "So you're proof that's not how it works, right?" "Yeah." His voice was a little flat, somehow. "So anyhow, if the club is a go, and you want to join--just as a friend--just let me know, all right?" "Um, sure. Okay. I mean, I probably will be pretty busy next year, and--" "It's up to you, Mike! Either way." I decided to ease his panic. "What you got on for the summer?" "Church camp. I'm going to be a junior counselor." "Great! Have a good time." Mike smiled--a little stiffly, I thought. "I will! And you'll ... I mean, it's probably better if you don't, you know, mention us, you know?" "It was kid stuff, Mike. No worries. My lips are sealed." I watched him turn away. Could that have been me? What if I'd never been in that room with Danny? Or gotten to know Alan and Jen and maybe even Mrs. Barlow ... I'm gay. I said it. Out loud, right in front of Fillmore High School. Maybe only Mike and I heard me, but I said it, and it felt good! I headed into the building. I looked around, but everything seemed normal. My morning classes were normal. Even the discussion group in Social Studies was normal. Maybe what Mike had heard hadn't gotten around, yet. I walked into the cafeteria, and there it was: the latest issue of the Fillmore Space. And everyone was reading it. I went to grab a copy, but Jen saw me first. "Hey!" she said. "Come join us!" She was sitting at a table just a few steps away with two other girls and someone who may have been a guy, but after meeting Kris, I wasn't about to jump to any conclusions. I sat down. "This is Eddie, from the meeting?" Jen announced. "He's pretty good, for a guy." And she introduced everyone. There were a couple of "Jen's got a boyfriend" cracks, but everyone seemed okay with me. I sat down and started to eat, and Jen turned to me and said, "Eddie? Did you see the paper?" "Haven't read it yet." Jen rolled her eyes. "Something bugging you? You look ... down, sort of." "It's nothing." As if they'd rehearsed it, everyone threw their heads back and then leaned toward me. "Boy trouble?" they chorused. I nodded. "Oh, shit!" Jen said. "Boyfriend's in the closet, I bet." "Sort of. Yeah. Very in the closet." "He pissed about the club?" "We broke up." "Both of you? Or him?" Shana asked. She was this bubbly Black girl. "Huh?" "You still love him, but he freaked, right? Ran back to his closet?" Shana pressed. "He's not out of his closet!" "Worst kind of relationship to get into!" Jen said. "But they're all so cute!" Roberta declared. "Why the fuck is that!?" Roberta was a blonde, ponytail and all. "Forbidden fruit, honey," Shana answered. "You should know. You have a taste for that shit!" "It tastes so damn good, though!" The girls were laughing. I had no idea, until then, that girls ... thought like boys. "Give it a little time, Eddie," Jen said. "He'll calm down and realize you're too good to give up!" "You think so?" I frowned and shook my head. "I mean, he's ... his gang ... nobody knows!" "Exactly. Except you. He needs sex like a dying man needs water!" Jen grinned. "And you're the only drinking fountain he knows." "It's not just about sex, Jen!" Roberta scowled. The table fell silent. "No, it's not," Jen admitted. "But sometimes, it's the only way in. Boys don't ... Guys shoot their cum, and that's all they know, except for the ache they never want to admit to feeling." "Boys don't have feelings!" Shana laughed. "Hey! The gay boys do!!" Roberta challenged. I looked around the table, awed. "How the heck do you all know so damn much?" "Simple!" Shana teased. "You poor sperm-spitters ain't allowed to talk about sex--the important parts, anyways. We egg-hatchers are!" And right there is where I started to feel like I was part of the world, again. "So who is this Mister Wonderful?" Jen asked. "It's not Alan, right?" "No, it's--He'd kill me if I told--" "Run away, baby! No way that's love!" Shana frowned. There were nods around the table. "It is, though! I mean not the kill--he's scared!" "Uh-huh," Shana said, clearly not buying a word of it. "Powell, his name is. Danny Powell." I was ready for gasps of recognition. Instead, Lucy spoke, carefully. Lucy was the girl I had thought might have been a boy, slender with close-cut hair. "One of those guys Dodger hangs with?" "You know--" "Dodger the doper," Shana nodded. "He's sweet, once he loosens up, some." "So's Danny, really!" Lucy agreed. "It's just--he doesn't have anyone to talk to, or anything." "Anything?" Shana chuckled and made a well-known gesture with her hands. Lucy rolled her eyes. "We dated, back in eighth grade, for a while. His folks--" She passed judgement with a shudder. I went strawberry red. "He's always with those guys, and I really need to talk to him alone, somehow!" "Call him," Shana shrugged. "I don't know his number. I don't even know--" "No problem," Lucy smiled. "I'll bring it tomorrow." Roberta sighed and shook her head. "God! Boys make everything so hard!" Then, she blushed as we all broke out laughing. I finally got a copy of the paper at the end of lunch period. The article was right on the front page, at the bottom. "Students Petition for LGBTQ Club," the headline said. "A group of students met with Miss Leopold, Mister Cruikshank, Mister Hodell, and School Board representative Evelyn Barlow to discuss an LGBTQ after-school club last week. A group of students presented a proposal which Mrs. Barlow will be presenting to the School Board at its next meeting. Mister Hodell has volunteered to be faculty advisor to the group. If the School Board approves it, the club will offer a place for Fillmore's LGBTQ students and their friends to meet and discuss issues that concern them." Of course, everybody at Fillmore probably knew who was in the "group of students." I know I heard someone say "Queer" between classes, and somebody else said "Fags." But my classes went like they always did, even gym. Like I said, nuts! I waited until Powell and his crew were on the bus before I slipped into a seat up front, near the driver. It wasn't I was afraid. I just didn't want to face him. (Right! I was afraid, okay?!) But mostly it was about the way the pain came back every time I saw his face, or heard his voice. "Love is love," all right. And breakups are breakups. A very wise person said to me it would be better if at least both of you could fall out of love at the same time. And then I thought of Powell, back there with his buddies, and I wondered if he really had fallen out of love. It was his loss, too, being back in that life and knowing, deep inside, that he was gay. (If he was. I read that sometimes straight guys just experiment.) (Like Mike.) (Maybe.) But Danny was gay! That little spark, flickering inside Powell's anger--it wasn't going to just go out! (But maybe it would come out all twisted, or something!) And that made me feel worse for him. We got to Wilson Street, and the four of them headed up the aisle toward me, and I know he saw me. For just an instant I imagined maybe he'd drop a note in my lap, like "That was all bullshit and I love you," or even just "Pizza," or something, but then they were out on the sidewalk and my lap was empty. He said he cared about me, dammit! And I knew he wasn't bullshitting when he said it! He was just trapped and scared, like Manimni said people get. I should swoop in like Spiderman and just take him away from those jerks, and his old man and everyone. I jumped up and got off the bus. The school bus roared away and I turned in time to see Powell and Snake hit the curb on the far side of the street. Then the light changed, and they were obscured by a herd of cars. "Hey, faggot." I froze. "Talkin' to you, faggot!" It was Horse, looking gigantic. "Wh--" "You lost, faggot?" Yes? No? Hi? Hi, Horse? High horse? I felt my face smiling. Shit! Horse sneered. "Happy to see me, faggot? Do I make your little willy all hard?" "I was just--" What? Say something! Anything, for god's sake! "wait--waiting for the bus. City bus!" Feeble! "Little faggot wants to suck my cock, I bet!" "I was--I got mixed up!" "Mixed up is right, faggot!" He pushed me back against the stoplight. "Say it! Say you're a faggot!" "I am!" "Say you're a cocksucking faggot!" "I said I'm gay!" Horse's fist filled my eyes. "Say you're a cocksucking faggot!!" "I'm a ... a cocksucking fag--" I swear I have no idea why I did it, but I kneed Horse in the crotch. He stumbled back, gasping, and I started to run, but before I got more than a few feet away, he grabbed my backpack. "Help!" I yelled. "I told you to leave the kid alone, Horse!" It was Danny! Snake was right behind him. "He's a fucking faggot!" Horse yelled. "Who cares, Man?" Powell replied. "You queer for the little punk?" "Let go!" I yelled, trying to squirm out of my backpack. "Shit," Snake muttered. "I said leave him alone!" Danny growled. "Fuck you!" Horse yelled, yanking my backpack, and all of a sudden I was flying toward Danny. I managed to shift my weight and slammed into Snake, instead. Snake grabbed me, and we watched Horse plow into Danny, fists going too fast to see. "Stop!" I yelled. Snake pulled me back. "Stay out of it! This has been coming!" he hissed. "What?" I yelled, but Snake was riveted on the fight. Suddenly, I felt like I was going to puke. Both of them were already bleeding, and I was terrified that one of them would get pushed into the street. And then Danny landed one on Horse's jaw, and he went down. It was over. We were all panting. Snake released me. "Beat it," he muttered. "Now!" And he pushed me away from the others. I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the end of the block, and across the street. I didn't stop until I reached the city bus bench, then I just grabbed it from behind and struggled for air. I looked back, but the traffic was in the way, so I couldn't see what the three of them were doing. I staggered to the bench, sat down, and cried. I just hugged myself and cried and fuck anyone who saw me! By the time I looked back, Danny and the others were gone like nothing had happened. When the bus came, I got on like a robot and stared out the window like I could make Danny appear, somehow, but he didn't, of course. What happened? Had Danny actually protected me? Or--what did Snake say? Did Danny and Horse already have a fight going, or something? Horse hadn't crossed the street with them. But maybe only because he'd stopped to light a cigarette. What would Danny--would Danny ever say anything to me again? Or would he beat me up for ... My brain went on, churning the same shit over and over and getting nowhere. "Hi, dear! How was--" Mom gasped. What happened to you, dear?" "It's all right. I ... fell." "Eddie, dear! Don't lie to me! What happened?" "There was ... a fight." I slipped off my backpack. My right shoulder burned. "Oh, dear!" She almost pounced on me, looking for cuts and bruises. "Where does it hurt, dear?" "No! It's just--I got roughed up a little, that's all." "Your shirt! It's all torn up! Take it off, dear!" Until she said that, I had no idea it was torn. But it was: buttons were missing, and there was a tear almost all the way up one side. Mom inspected me and insisted on washing my right shoulder, where the skin was all scraped up. "Who did this to you?" "It was just an accident, Mom, really. Nobody's fault!" "I'm calling the school!" "Please, Mom! No! I'll be fine, I swear!" She scowled at me, inspected my shoulder again, and sighed. "I made lemon bars! Do you want--" "Sure! Thanks, Mom!" "You're sure I shouldn't call the school?" I nodded, my mouth full of the sweet-sour dance of lemon bar. She hugged me, very carefully, then looked at me and stroked my hair. We stood there, looking at each other for a few seconds. Then she slid a finger across my cheek. "Your father and I," she began and smiled, "thought you might like to have your sweet sixteen party at Funday Park. You could invite some of your friends." "Really!?" I swallowed the lemon bar. "That would be great!" "Well, sixteen is special." She chuckled. "Just don't invite the whole school." "No problem. I don't have that many friends!" (Monastery!) Mom frowned. "Eddie? What do--" "I mean close friends, you know?" "Like Michael Silvers? We haven't seen him, lately. Is he still--" "I talked to him at school, today. He's going to be a junior camp counselor this summer." "I'm glad to know you're still friends. He's a nice boy!" I shrugged. "He's got a bunch of new friends, now. We don't ..." Mom sighed. "I guess friends come and go at your age, don't they, dear?" Suddenly, she scowled. "It wasn't Mike, was it?" "No, Mom! It was ... nothing, really. I swear!" I grabbed another lemon bar. "Love you, Mom!" And I headed for my room, wondering how I could have completely forgotten my sixteenth birthday. And what Snake meant by "This has been coming." And what tomorrow would be like, when everyone had read the Fillmore Space. "Eddie?" Dad knocked, standing outside my door. "Come in, Dad." "Your mother said you got into a fight." "Not exactly. It was ... I got roughed up a little. It was nothing, really." Dad sat down on my bed. "Eddie? It's nothing to be ashamed of, losing a fight." "I didn't lose--there wasn't a fight, Dad. Really! I kicked him in the nuts, and ... that's all." "You kicked him--" "He grabbed me, and ... it just happened!" And right away, I thought of Alan. "Like a reflex, I guess." Dad frowned. "He grabbed you? Why?" "Just ... he was just acting tough, I guess." "Well," Dad's frown disappeared, "I guess you showed him." "I guess." "You ever think of taking lessons, maybe? Self-defense lessons?" I shook my head. "I'm having enough to do, just studying for finals!" "This summer, maybe?" "Dad! Enough! I'll be fine." Dad lowered his head, sighed, then raised it and looked at me. "Eddie, look. You're gay." He raised his hand. "Let me finish. It's not ... I can live with a gay son. I can't live with a son who can't defend himself. People are going to pick on you because you're ... you're gay. You need to--" "I know, Dad. And I did. I defended myself." I was almost as surprised as Dad, when I said that. "I was stupid. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Won't happen again, I promise." "I love you, Eddie, and I don't want to see you hurt! Understand?" "Yeah, Dad. I do. Promise." He stood up and headed slowly for the hall. "Hey, Dad? Thank you." Dad turned to me and gave a sad sort of smile. "You're welcome, Son," he said, as he left the room.