Date: Wed, 06 Aug 2003 21:58:26 -0700 From: Robert B <robert_b9968 (at) hotmail.com> Subject: Hiding in McClintock High 1 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at public writing, and to be honest I'm very nervous about it. I really could use any words of encouragement, if you think I deserve them. I've been told by a few people I have a modicum of talent at writing, but I can't be sure. An artist could be praised by friends until he thinks he can paint better than anyone in the world, and perhaps with practice he could, but that doesn't mean his current work isn't actually terrible. For comments, I can be reached at: robert_b9968 hotmail.com (@ removed for spam-protection purposes) Anyway, this story is fiction, mostly. Some parts of the first chapter are loosely based off real people, but their personalities are largely of my own creation. All places, such as "Nello's" or "McClintock High School", are entirely real. Which leads me to an important point. NOTE TO McCLINTOCK HIGH STUDENTS: In the possible event that this story is read by any of the ~2,000 students who go to my school, I have included this note. I am not hiding who wrote this, not really. If you go to MHS, it is far too easy to solve who authored this story. This truly terrifies me. I really want to instinctively cover my tracks but somehow, at the same time, I want to give up all vagueness and shout out my full true name. I am a man of secrets and lies, which probably hurts me more than I know, but I'm not ready to face all of the truth just yet. So talk to me, if you like (I'm a nice enough guy), but keep the secret between us. Maybe I'll come out, by the time this story is finished. If I do, I'll say so in a future note. (I really promise, by the way, that future chapters probably will be more exciting than the first. That's not to say this chapter is bad, I just need this one to set up the cards, and the game goes on after. Also, forgive the preachy part; it's basically confined to this chapter. I hope the formatting all works out ok!) ------------------------------------------------- ||| Hiding In McClintock High ||| -------------------------------------------------- The restaurant was close to empty, with only a few stragglers eating a late lunch alongside myself at the bar. A Diamondbacks game was playing on TV, and I halfheartedly tried to pay attention to it, but my eyes returned to glass after glass of Diet Pepsi more often than the screen. I was afraid, eager, hopeful, uncertain - and itching for a beer. Instead, I drained the soda, and asked for another refill. The waitress looked at me reproachfully - I was pushing the limit for free refills, I knew, especially without ordering food - but I was a regular, so I began draining a new glass. It was a bad habit, my drinking when nervous. I didn't want to know where it came from; I couldn't be THAT alcoholic. Maybe I was just addicted to Diet Pepsi. Yeah, that must be it. I'll order water. Tomorrow. In the meantime, I sighed, peered into my glass, and let my thoughts drift listlessly back toward where this whole mess began. I can't remember a time when I haven't been gay. Even since the beginning it was guys that turned me on, while girls only made me bored or confused. Usually both. I thought I could get over it, and spent every year of my conscious life pretending to be someone I wasn't, even to myself. I taught myself tricks, to avoid suspicion. Whenever a hot chick walked by, I would subconsciously stare at her breasts or ass, although I was never really interested. Whenever I was out with most guys, I always made the crude and unmistakably straight jokes about women and sex which made me blend in. I had hordes of fictional girlfriends, all from vacations out of the city, because "I don't like to date girls from school. There's all the pressure, and if you break up, there's so many rumors ya know? Better to date easy bitches on a break for some real fun." God I hate my fake self. Over the years, I lived the lie, and let it eat away at me. I thought maybe it would get better with time. It never did. I prayed to God, and asked him to guide me away from being gay. Divine intervention never came. I thought maybe if I tried to pick up a girl, I would be converted. Hah, that's hard enough for a guy who's actually INTERESTED! Not to say there weren't girls going after me. There were several, but I could never figure out how to play that game. Sometimes, though, they were so obvious it became incredibly awkward and difficult to dodge their efforts. I tried so hard to fight the truth off, treating it like a disease, and mentally punching myself every time I thought of a guy "that way." I cringed at the sight of every Gay-Straight Alliance flyer at my school, with hope and fear and anger battling for dominance. I wanted so badly to live a true life, and hated the desire with an equal passion. Slowly, though, the desire ate away at me until it became unbearably constant. I couldn't sleep without a nightmare, I couldn't focus in class, and I became paranoid that every second person was suspecting the truth. Every hour of every day it monopolized my mind. I had to find relief; maybe just an outlet to let off the steam that was continually building pressure. So then came one day, when Pandora's Box opened and the chain reaction of fateful decisions came out one by one. ***===*** It was a Thursday, lunch break with two classes left before the start of a three day weekend, and for once I was actually in a great mood. I lethargically walked down the hallway of Unit Two, heading to my locker in no particular hurry. On the way, I bumped into a classmate from science class. A particularly short girl, with cropped black hair and glasses that seemed to suit her face, Kristin always seemed to wearing a smile. We weren't very close friends, really, but close enough. She seemed to want to talk, and I was more than happy to pass time with a conversation. After a little preamble, she skipped to her apparent purpose. "I have a friend who likes you." She half-giggled. Outwardly, I let my expression become thoughtful, perhaps puzzled. Inwardly, I groaned and wondered how I should play this time. After a few moments, I chose to be naive and curious. "Who?" I asked quasi-interestedly. "I can't tell you right now. Meet me after class and I'll let you know." And, with that cryptic and uninformative message conveyed, she walked on. It could be my imagination, but her customary smile seemed larger than usual. When she was a fair distance away, I allowed myself a sigh and fiddled with the combination lock of my locker. Another woman. What the hell do they see in a man so totally disinterested, I wondered. Lunch ended quickly, science dragged by, and finally I met up with Kristen to further investigate Ms. Mystery on the way to our next classes. We discussed the test we had just endured and the probable future of our grade, as well as our plans for the long weekend. Surprisingly, Kristen said nothing about the girl at all, leaving me to eventually bring it up myself. "So who's this girl with the crush you were telling me about?" I inquired, almost becoming genuinely curious. Almost. Kristen exhaled sharply, rolled her eyes, and responded, "She should have been here, but she chickened out at the last minute. See, she's really shy and can never get up the nerve to approach anyone she likes or even drop hints. That's why I wanted to walk with you now, so I could make sure she went through with it, but she beat me to the punch and must have run all the way to her next class." I laughed at the situation, my usual fallback when I had no idea what to say, and was silently relieved that nothing more would come of this. We walked a little further together, then reached the point where we needed to split to reach classes in different directions. I said as much, and reminded her there wasn't much time until the bell would ring. Reluctantly, she agreed, but wouldn't let me go quite yet. "Why don't you come with us to Peter Piper Pizza after school, Jason? She'll be there then, for sure. I can give you a ride." That caught me off guard. I didn't want to follow this train, knowing it could only lead to an unpleasant stop. Nevertheless, it would be nice to go out and do something with a few friends. To keep my secret, I tended to cut myself off from society and prevented myself from having any real friends. It made for a lot of empty time, bored and lonely. After a moment's thought, I decided to take the risk, and accepted the offer happily. ***===*** "Come on, Amy, just one more. I'm waiting for a friend. She'll be here in five more minutes, tops," I lied. There was nobody coming, and I didn't really want the soda. But the longer I drank, the longer it would be until I returned home. "Sorry, Jason, but I don't have any choice. God knows you've passed it enough times to know there's a limit. All that Diet Pepsi isn't good for you, you know. If it can dissolve oil stains, I just don't think it belongs in your body. Besides, shouldn't you be getting home sometime today?" I looked at my watch, and saw I'd been absorbed in thought and procrastination since school got out at 2:20 until 5:53. There were more people with me at the bar, now, eating an early dinner instead of a late lunch. "OK, OK. You have a point. How much do I owe you?" I paid the bill, and as she busied herself with the cash register for the change I looked around my favorite hangout. Nello's, as the restaurant was named, was a nice place to eat some pizza with friends or watch a sports game from the bar. The food was good, by any standard, and most of the staff were generous toward my occasional nerve-stricken dive into huge amounts of soda. The staff was the real reason I always came back. Always friendly and understanding, many had quickly become known to me on a first name basis. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jack waiting on a table, and exchanged a wave of greeting before turning my attention back to Amy. Jack and I knew each other from an english class, where we both held top ranks in the class. "Damn he's hot," I thought, before a flood of exasperation nullified that thought-chain. That sort of thinking is what got me to where I am right now. I accepted my change from Amy with a shared smile, then began walking home as slowly as I could manage. As I walked, since I had nothing better to fill my mind, I finished replaying the day that began to change my life. ***===*** Peter Piper was mostly empty, that Thursday afternoon. Other than my companions, only a few toddlers were scurrying about, accompanied by their parents. Slowly, though, other people began to trickle in, and I was introduced to them all. I knew none of them, but most were friendly enough and had no problem with my tagging along. Then arrived two people who I could finally recognize. One was a girl, Megan, who I had recently met on a field trip and considered somewhat of a friend. Her companion, Ryan, I had never actually met, but I knew him as the man who shared a locker right next to mine all year. Strangely, we had never spoken before, but as we talked, I found that I had lot more in common with Ryan than with the rest of the group. We had a similar sense of humor, and agreed on most issues that one or the other mentioned. Eventually, we split from the main conversation into our own dialogue. Megan, I noticed, stayed with us despite actually saying little. I began paying closer attention to Megan suddenly, although I did so discretely. She WAS rather shy around me, come to think of it. And was it my imagination, or did her eyes linger on me from time to time, even when someone else was talking? As I was working this through, Kristen came up and whispered into Megan's ear, after which they retreated several feet away. I kept up my end of the conversation with Ryan, but I mentally focused on the two girls in my peripheral vision. I was a good judge of body language, and it became obvious that Kristen was trying to convince Megan of something, while Megan was hesitantly but adamantly disagreeing. Finally, the two broke, and the latter returned to our table. She blushed as she saw me, and sat down with a smile. So, as I had begun to suspect, it was Megan who had the crush. I'd noticed other signs beforehand, starting since the field trip and continuing since, though I'd never really paid any attention. But then, I'd always seen Ryan with her. So often, in fact, I had assumed he was her boyfriend. Confused, I used a lapse in conversation to ask how long the two had been dating. I had not been prepared for what came next. Megan broke out laughing, and Ryan joined in with a smaller laugh while blushing. "Ryan's a bit more...feminine than that," Megan said, still giggling. That sank in slowly. Feminine? But that couldn't mean....No, he couldn't be.... "Yeah, I'm kinda gay, Jason." He said, laughing softly. I laughed with him, unsure what else to do. I felt like I might be sick. He was gay, and I couldn't even tell! We had been talking like friends; I even thought we had a lot in common! How could he admit something like that so casually, like mentioning he was left-handed? But I played it all off, and made myself appear fine with it. At the soonest opportunity, though, I hastily retreated to the bathroom. After making sure I was alone, I took two powerful swings in quick succession against the drywall. I wasn't angry, not really. I was confused more than anything. Questions flickered through my head, none of them I liked. How could he tell that he was gay? What did his parents think? How could he be so weak, letting the sickness win? How could he be so strong, able to live the truth? I wonder if I could ever....No! NO! Do NOT even THINK anything like that!! I paced back and forth for a minute or two, and considered my next move. I couldn't leave; besides being rude, I had received a ride from Kristen and lived somewhat far away. I could hardly stay in the bathroom for the rest of time, either, so I splashed some cold water on my face to compose myself and tried to dash away the thoughts that bombarded my consciousness, then rejoined my friends. Much to my hidden surprise, my question had started a conversation about Ryan's current boyfriend, and how his parents really liked this one. I listened intently, and my shock did not fade a bit. Here he was, talking about a GUY he was going out with, and it seemed perfectly natural! It seemed...right. He wasn't hiding; he could live the truth. His parents were okay with it, and my friends, sitting there, were completely supportive. I wasn't envious. I wasn't! I couldn't be.... Could I? ***===*** "Hi mom, dad. Sorry I'm late." My father looked up apathetically, or maybe he was just annoyed at being disturbed, then resumed his paperwork. My mother almost made apathy seem favorable by storming up in a whirlwind of flailing arms and raining down questions so quickly that I was unsure whether she actually wanted the answers. "Where were you? Do you have any idea how late it is? Were you out with a girl? You know I want you to tell me where you are! You couldn't call? We've been waiting forever; your father and I are starving! Isn't that right, dear?" My father didn't bother to look up, merely nodded and grunted into his paperwork. I always considered myself an excellent liar, and instinctively put my skills to use diverting her questions. "Sorry, mom. I was studying with a friend at Nello's for a really hard test tomorrow, and I guess time got away from us. When I realized what time it was, I said goodbye and practically ran home. My cell phone battery died at school again, and the pay phone was still broken, or I would have called. I'm sorry. Do you want me to cook dinner?" Both cell and pay phone were in fine working order, and always have been. Still disgruntled but temporarily appeased, she curtly responded that I didn't have to cook, only be better the next time! Indeed. Wearily, I crawled upstairs, and threw myself down on the bed. When should I do it: before dinner, or after? After a few minutes' debate, I decided after would be better. My mom might be more relaxed, and maybe my dad would actually be done with his work. Might, maybe. Not likely, but it could be possible. My throat had an unpleasant syrupy feeling, and my head felt stuffed with cotton from all the Diet Pepsi. Some caffeine will speed you up, but way too much will give you a unique kind of hangover and leave you feeling exhausted. All that I drank combined with accumulated stress and fatigue, making me drift to sleep in a matter of minutes. ***===*** I was sleeping, but things seemed too solid to be a dream. After a few moments, recognition dawned. This wasn't a dream, but a memory. It was shortly after that day at Peter Piper. My mind was still reeling from it, somehow. I didn't know what it was, but something about that simple encounter had thrown off everything I'd kept so precariously balanced. A particularly religious Christian girl I knew, yet another half-friend, had invited me to her church youth group that night. I was truly off my usual self; I actually accepted! I needed peace of mind, and as a last ditch effort I thought one last try at God's guidance might work. It was a small church, but more than sixty teenagers had congregated that night to chat with each other and hear the preaching. Many were skaters, some were punks, and several were so emphatically puritan that simply being near to them made me fear a sudden burst of undirected condemnation. Most, though, were just nice kids who were maybe a bit more religious than your average teen -- and, it sometimes seemed, somewhat more naive about the world around them. I talked with some folks for a bit, drained only one can of Diet Pepsi, and then the service began. The pastor was a slightly chubby man a pleasant smile and disarming attitude. Talking with him, you could read an empathetic understanding in any subject, and he always spoke of God with an inoffensive passion. At first, I suspected something more to him and kept my guard up, but I soon realized he showed all that he was and began to like him. He stood on a slightly elevated stage rather than the traditional pulpit, with a cordless microphone in hand that allowed him to gesture dramatically as punctuation for his words. He opened with a prayer, then went on with some customary preamble before moving to the heart of his sermon. Several scriptures were quoted, none of which I could memorize well enough to be present in the dream, but one particular part of his speech I will never forget. "God doesn't care what you've done in life, or what you're doing right now. You are His creation, His child, and He cares only about the eternal well-being of your soul. So long as you repent your sins, and accept forgiveness through the blood of Christ our Savior, He wants you to live in truth and happiness. You can't hide from him; he knows you inside and out, better than you know yourself. Accept him, and he will accept you, no matter what is in your past, present, or future." I remembered the thoughts that swirled through my head then, the turmoil that ensued from those words -- actually meant for a different context then mine, but self-applied to my own situation. Contrasting shouts battled silently within my skull. "I can't be gay!" "Why can't I?" "It is against God!" "How?" "I don't want to be that way!" "Haven't I always been envious? Whenever I saw a poster for the Gay-Straight Alliance club, didn't I want to go? When I saw Ryan the other day, didn't I want to be as strong as him?" "But my parents will kill me!" "I'm already killing myself, letting it slowly eat away at me until there is nothing left. Admit it already, damn you!" And with that, I could fight no longer. Years of carefully placed deception fell out from beneath me. I let the excuse of religion, the last wall I had erected in the tunnel that spanned from me to the truth, fall right there in the church. If God is truly omniscient, then he knows that I tried with every fiber of my being to fight off being gay, and finally failed. I came to peace with both Him and with myself, that night. Darkness followed, and slowly another scene coalesced. I was back in Nello's, looking into a Diet Pepsi and talking to Ryan across the table. Between us was an order of "traditional Tuscan bread," which we ate some of but largely ignored. It was yesterday, I realized, that my mind was playing out -- a couple weeks after the church. I had asked Ryan to join me for a late lunch, just to make myself sure I wanted to go through with the plan. "Thanks for coming today, bud," I sighed more than said. "I really need some advice on something." "Of course, it's no problem. I can tell something's been bothering you lately. So you want to talk about it?" I nodded, but it took several moments before I could even try to talk. Then it took several repetitions of "Well" and "See" and "The thing is" until I finally succeeded. I noticed my glass was half empty, now, for the effort. I sorely wished it was something stronger. "You..." I started slowly, and finished in a jumbled rush. "You told me you came out to your parents, didn't you?" I kept my own eyes on my glass the whole time, but I could see his eyes widen in my peripheral vision, and fought to stop shaking as he responded, "Wow.....I wasn't really expecting that one. Um, yeah, last year. Why? You think....well, I mean....Are you gay, Jase?" It now felt much colder than when we had come in. I couldn't stop shaking as I worked up the energy to form a response. Speaking was beyond me, so I just nodded resignedly. Suddenly I felt foolish for even coming up with this idea. Nobody could help me; I wasn't even sure whether I was truly done fighting yet. I dug in my pocket for a ten which I threw on the table, tried to mutter some apologies and hastily reached for my backpack. Ryan got there first, and held it in a tight grip. "Where are you going? Sit down, man. You obviously need someone to talk to." I suffered through a moment's self-debate, then let myself fall back into the booth. "Look, obviously it's fine by me if you're gay. I just never suspected it from you. So come on, let's talk about the problem. You asked about my parents. Are you thinking of coming out?" I nodded, and even managed to work up a verbal reply this time. "No....well, yes. To a couple people, that is. I'm not ready to come out at school, but I've been thinking...." "You want to come out to your parents?" Ryan offered. "Yeah. I mean, this is my Senior year. Next year I'll be off at college and my whole life spent with them will have been based on a lie. I want to be honest with them. I want stop adding letters to pronouns or hiding where I've been all the time. Most of all, I want them to accept me for who I am, but....Hell, I don't know. I guess I'm just..." I sighed, "afraid." "It's natural to feel that way, Jase. I felt the same way when I came out to my parents, and so did Chase." Chase was Ryan's current boyfriend. "You don't have to tell them, if you think they'll take it really horribly. But, for me at least....I guess I loved my parents and felt that they loved me enough in return to deserve the truth." We talked some more, and by the time the bread had disappeared an hour later Ryan had helped me come to an agreement with myself. I would tell my parents, and if they took it reasonably, I would come out at school not long after. As we were getting ready to leave, though, the afternoon suddenly seemed much less supportive. Word had been spread around campus that Ryan was gay, apparently, but I had just never noticed it until after that day at Peter Piper. As we fighting over who would pay the bill -- and finally agreed to split -- a bus boy walked past and glanced disgustedly in our direction. "Fucking faggot," I heard him mumble under his breath, not quite softly enough. I could tell by his face that Ryan heard too, and although he did nothing I set down my sunglasses to protect them before following after the bus boy. The medium-sized room we were in was slightly detached from the main restaurant so there was no-one in it after the people had left the table which the bus boy was now cleaning (I had chosen it specifically for the privacy). I put my hand on his shoulder which spun him around, then stood ominously close as I began a conversation.. "What did you say?" I asked softly. "What's your problem, man? Didn't you know that little shit is a fag?" I silenced him by talking louder over his words. "I did know he was gay, actually. I have no problem with it. What I do have a problem with is you." I looked down at his apron -- [Andrew] was written across the nametag. "Now, Andrew, you don't quite seem to be the intelligent kind so I'll explain this real slow. You must know Guido and Amy Napolitano, right? Owners of this place, the folks who control your paycheck?" He nodded tightly, although I was hardly asking, so I moved on. "What a coincidence. I know them too! And if you ever do that around anyone again, even if I'm not around but I hear about it, then they'll be sure to find out what a great bus-boy they're wasting their money on. You understand me?" Although I was actually looking for a response this time, he gave me none. He simply looked me coldly in the eyes, then pushed me away forcefully so he could finish clearing the table. I felt my message had been conveyed, though, so I threw my share of the bill on our own table and motioned for Ryan to leave with me. Outside, after we had walked a fair distance away, Ryan stopped and looked away from me as he quietly mumbled, "You shouldn't have done that, Jason." "Why not?" I asked indignantly. "The guy had it coming to him. Besides, that little wake-up call probably saved his job. Next person he did that to might not have let him off with just a warning, and could've justifiably done a lot worse than telling Guido." Ryan turned his eyes toward me then, and I noticed he was blinking back tears. His voiced trembled a little as he began to speak, and he was so quiet I could barely hear. "Didn't you recognize him? That's Andrew Iacono, the dumbest jock who ever solved the mysteries of catching a football. He's going to spread around school that you're gay because you were eating with a....with a...." He was obviously too disgusted to say the word, so I finished the sentence right. "Because I was eating with a friend, Ryan. Listen, I did recognize him from around campus. I think he's a Senior like us, in fact. But what do I have to be afraid of? Everybody at school is positive I'm straight! Even YOU didn't suspect, am I right? Besides, I'm a great actor and a better liar, so I can shrug it off easily enough. I do know a couple jocks -- some of the rare few who can tell the difference between a football and a potato -- and they can back up anything I decide to make up." I could see he was comforted by what I said, but he still seemed embarrassed and generally bothered about the whole matter so I added, "Don't let those idiots get to you, Ryan. If you let them, they win, and then eventually everybody loses anyway." Ryan smiled -- it was a small, almost pathetic thing but at least he was smiling again. As he spoke, some energy seemed to have returned to him from my words. "I know, Jase. I know. Hey, I thought I was supposed to be giving you advice, not the other way around." I laughed, patted him on the back, and said, "Yeah, well, you just got lucky I guess. Now get home, I'll see ya tomorrow!" ***===*** Suddenly my mother's shout startled me out of the memory-dream. It was time for dinner. Although they didn't know it, it was time for more than just that. In less than half an hour now, I would be out of the closet. Hopeful eagerness returned, and with it, foreboding uncertainty. The sun dipped into the west, while I slept. Idly, I wondered how I would feel when it rose again tomorrow. -----End of Chapter 1----- This could probably use a bit more editing, but I think I'm going to lose my nerve if I don't send it today. This must be one of the stupidest things I've ever done, my mind is telling me, but my heart tells me to post so here I go. Damn it, I'm beginning to feel like a kid at the top of a water slide For any comments (preferably positive, but constructive negative are fine) e-mail me at robert_b9968 hotmail.com (@ removed for spam-protection purposes)