Date: Thu, 11 Sep 2003 20:56:07 -0700
From: Robert B <robert_b9968 (at) hotmail.com>
Subject: Hiding in McClintock High 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Heh. I forgot a tiny detail last chapter, but I can't really
edit it can I?  Serves me right for uploading chapter-by-chapter.  I'll just
have to add it in, and make it seem natural.  :-)

*sigh*  Anyway.  I keep putting it off, it seems - coming out.  I once
thought that maybe I'd do it in August, then it was September, and now I'm
thinking maybe October would be best.  I don't know why I can't just face
it, to some of my family and closest friends at least.  Homecoming dance is
coming up, and I'm still in the closet, so maybe I'll ditch the fake
girlfriend for a few days and make an appearance.  Well, in any case, that
was just an update to those who expressed an interest over e-mail.

As always, I'm very grateful for all the comments I have received.   They've
really been very helpful, for both me and the progress of the story.  I can
still be reached for comments at

robert_b9968    hotmail.com  (@ removed for spam-protection purposes, so you
need to add it in to e-mail me.  I tell ya, it works.)


Chapter III
===========

	I didn't know where I was running to, and I didn't care.  I felt oddly
numb, as if my mind was separated from my body and controlling it from a
safe distance.  I realized abruptly that there something heavy was pulling
on my shoulders, and was surprised to find my backpack slung behind me.  I
had grabbed it as I left the house, knowing I would need it, but I hadn't
given it any attention at the time.

After almost a mile I finally stopped, took in where I was, and tried to
decide where to go next.  After growing up in this neighborhood, I could
easily draw a map of it in my sleep.  To the west, I could find shelter in a
run-down strip mall, but that might be too busy during the day.  To the
east, there was a large church with plenty of good places to hide, but that
would have me travel in the same direction that my house was located.  I
decided that the best place to spend the night would be at my school, a 15
minute walk to the north.  I reached it in less than six minutes.

	The fences that surrounded the campus were all closed and thoroughly
locked, of course, but they were low enough to jump with minimal difficulty.
  I chose an entry point not far from the athletic area, just south of the
soccer field, where no security cameras were installed yet and people only
came while passing between classes.

	Darkness impeded my search, but eventually I discovered the perfect shelter
-- a racquetball court featuring four high concrete walls and half of a
roof, with only one small rectangular opening around back that functioned as
a door.  Glancing inside was impossible, unless you wanted to badly enough
to walk around and peer into the entryway, plus the partial cover would
provide some valuable protection against sun or rain.  For a little while,
at least, I would take refuge here.

	I sat down hard on the bare concrete floor, leaning against a wall opposite
the doorway.  My forceful landing caused a quick jolt of pain, and I
remembered too late that I had put the folded hunting knife from earlier
into my back pocket.  With a grunt, I lifted myself up and carefully
examined the undamaged steel blade.

	A sudden yawn made my jaws stretch and creak.  I felt much more than simply
tired - I felt like a wounded soldier, lost in the desert, having to limp
home from a war he had just lost.  My mind still resisted all efforts at
working, but I struggled through long enough to form some semblance of a
plan for tomorrow.

	Today was Tuesday, so school would be open in the morning.  There was no
immediate fear of being found, since the racquetball team didn't start
practice for another month, but  I would need to eat sometime.  At least I
still had my wallet with enough cash to support me for a few short days.

The idea of breakfast was laughable, and dinner would be too tricky - my
parents would be off work, and possibly looking for me somewhere.  That left
lunch, but I couldn't show my face around campus just yet.  I would probably
figure something out when I was hungry enough, I decided, and left it at
that.

	My mind was starting to fog as sleep became more demanding, but I shrugged
it off and tried to refocus on what I needed to do.  Maybe I should just
call my parents and apologize, I wondered ruefully.  But no, I couldn't, not
after tonight.  Better to live on the streets than to face the painful shame
that would be....

I could do...just fine...on my own....

	With that final unpleasant thought, despite my best efforts, fatigue became
irrepressible.  My eyes slid shut and wouldn't open, my breathing deepened,
and a veil of sleep covered my consciousness.

===***===

	There was nothing familiar about this dream.  No recognition of events
past, or ominous predictions of what was to come.  I had been dreaming
normal nightmares before, and probably would continue after, but now I was
held suspended in a desolate blackness that filled my mind.

	Shadow swirled in eddies around me like a somber, unearthly fog, and
obliterated any sense of sight or touch or sound.  The only object my eyes
could finally discern was a human frame, of a height and build similar to my
own, composed of a ghostly darkness only slightly less obscure than the
rest.

I stared at him, and could feel his own gaze rest on me with a bone-chilling
intensity.  We said nothing, merely stood in the eerie silence and awaited
the return of my nightmarish sleep.  I was almost relieved when it finally
came.

===***===

	Several hours later, I suddenly awoke with the noise of rusty machinery and
metallic crashes assaulting my ears.  Bolting upright, I tried to place
where I was and what was happening.  Memory trickled in slowly, but I soon
recognized the austere concrete as my shelter and eventually identified the
clamor to be the sounds of a garbage truck emptying the school's dumpsters.

I looked at my watch, and saw it was only 7:13 in the morning.  Not long
before school began, then.  That truck was certainly more effective than any
alarm clock I had at home.  If I were actually going, I would have found
that terribly convenient.  As it was, I just laid back down and fell asleep
when the truck drove away.



	The ringing bells and the din of students as they passed from one class to
the next woke me up for five minutes every hour, after which I merely
drifted off again.  After a few repetitions of this, I was either rested
enough or simply annoyed at being awakened, so I stayed awake.  Looking at
my watch, I saw that there was only one hour remaining until lunch.  My
stomach, dissatisfied with the meager portion of meatloaf from last night,
had already remembered this.  So I used my time to craft a simple plan, then
pulled out a book and began to wait impatiently.



	The lunch bell rang at last, and a noticeably louder din of students could
be heard this time.  I waited a full minute as the students traveled to the
food court, and let their noise fade comfortably into the distance.  After
another few seconds passed, I ducked out of the small opening and went
around the corner, trying to stay discreetly in the shadows.

	Ryan worked as a teacher's assistant in a computer class just before lunch,
and he often complained about having to shut down all the systems when the
bell rang.  It took at least two minutes, he said, and that meant he was
always guaranteed a last place in the long lunch line.  Today, I wasn't
particularly sympathetic.

	A minute passed as I waited, then another, and then a few more.  I was
cursing my luck and about to give up when I spotted him.  He was wearing a
form-fitting blue shirt with a pair of black cargo pants, wearily knuckling
his eyes and walking in a slight but obviously futile hurry.  He spotted me
as I left the cover of the shadows, and immediately changed his path without
apparent thought.

	Maybe it was my wrinkled, unchanged clothing and my unruly hair, or maybe
Ryan just knew me well enough to read the emotions that I was keeping
buried, but something made him jump directly to asking, "Jason, what's the
matter?"

	"Nothing, man."  I smiled weakly, but it was the most I could muster.
"Just been a rough day is all.  You heading to the cafeteria?"  He nodded.
"Great.  Could you do me a huge favor and grab a sandwich or something for
me?  I'm starving, but somebody's looking for me who I'd rather avoid."  To
my great relief, he agreed right away, even though I was afraid that he
seemed slightly suspicious.  I fished a five out of my wallet and thanked
him profusely for his help.

	He returned five minutes later with two cans of soda tucked under one arm
and two sandwiches under the other.  After accepting the lunch and refusing
the change, I thanked him once again.

	"Really, it's no problem.  I was actually hoping to run into you today to
ask how things went last night."  I fought it hard, but I couldn't quite
keep my mind disconnected from my features, and both winced at the memory.
Ryan picked up on this, nodded, and offered me a sympathetic look.  He
appeared torn, hesitating over what to do next.

	"Oh, Jase.  I'm so sorry.  I really do want to talk about it, but I have to
go see a teacher now for an hour or two or I'll lose my chance for a
scholarship.   Why don't we meet after school in the usual place?"

	I nodded reluctantly, but had to set up a fairly complex plan on the fly
before I could respond.  If I crossed the street at a certain point, jumped
two fences, and walked through the alley behind Bashas' grocery store, my
chances of being caught would be small.  So long as I left late enough.

	"I'd like that, Ryan, but I might be a bit late.  Is 3 o'clock ok?"

	"3 o'clock is perfect.  I'll see you there, Jase."  With a sympathetic but
earnest smile and a pat on the shoulder, he left to find his teacher and I
returned to the shadows of my abode.

	The hours dragged by slowly, and I quickly lost all interest in my books.
So I occupied the time by forming a plan that would last me for a few weeks,
and questioned if I could stretch my ideas to span over months.  Schemes for
showering and places to sleep were easy to solve, but other problems nagged
at my mind and presented nothing but difficulties.

	How will I eat?  How am I going to throw my parents off of my trail?  How
should I slip past the administration, so I can continue taking classes?
I'm going to need money very soon, so I need a job, but where?

	All the questions spun around in my head, and I began forming a tangled web
of loose ideas that would later develop into a concrete plan of action.  I
hoped.  Well, at least I had a start.


	School finally ended, and almost all the students left for home.  The final
thirty minutes were nearly unbearable as my boredom and anticipation grew
neck and neck.  At last, around 2:45, I couldn't take it any longer.  I left
my sanctuary, fled across the safest route I knew, and reached Nello's ten
minutes ahead of schedule but thankfully undiscovered.

	The restaurant was nearly abandoned today, and I badly wished for cover or
camouflage.  Besides myself, I could count everyone who was in the
restaurant (including the staff) with one hand and still have fingers to
spare.  I took a few deep breaths, and reminded myself that my parents would
never try to find me here.  I came to Nello's every few days, and had grown
somewhat of a fondness for it, but for all my parents knew I regarded the
restaurant as a fancy McDonalds and visited it just as rarely.

	Marcos, the owner, was behind the bar, rolling silverware into cloth
napkins and looking as if he'd discovered a new, previously unimagined level
of boredom.  Seeing me, he brightened somewhat, but I got the feeling that
he was happier to see a customer than a familiar acquaintance.  I didn't
blame him; business was particularly bad for everybody lately.  He genially
offered me a seat at the bar and a drink, but I declined both in favor of a
booth around the corner.

	The table I had chosen was the same place that I had sat with Ryan a few
days ago, I realized.  Only a few days.  It felt like weeks.  I was a
different person back then.  Happier?  Better?  Worse?  I didn't really know
yet.  Different, in any case.  The back of my mind helpfully offered the
comparison, "Stupider," again and again.

	Ryan arrived only a few minutes after me, to my immense relief.  I didn't
know why I should feel relieved, really.  More people in the restaurant
would make me blend in, but more people in my booth would make me stick out.
  Gah, I was becoming paranoid.

	"Jase, I'm glad you came."  I tried to return his smile, but somehow
doubted my success.  Smiling was too much effort.  I did manage a nod,
though, and thought I had made it companionable enough.  Ryan slid onto the
seat across from me, and offered yet another sympathetic look.  Pity was
becoming tiresome, I mused.  He opened his mouth to say something, but
suddenly changed his words.

	"Hey, Jack."

	Ryan's greeting suddenly brought my focus onto the waiter, whom I had
barely noticed come to our table.  Jack and I were classmates together in
English, a subject we both loved, where we had gradually formed a casual
competition for the highest grade.  I was winning as of three days ago, but
the margin was so thin that he could have easily overtaken me with my
absence today.

	Despite our being rather close in class and often chatting while he worked,
we had never grown much of a friendship further than that.  I, as usual,
depended on my instinctive lies to protect me like a turtle's shell.  Also,
Jack never pressed very hard to forge a bond either, as he tended to cut off
and become shy too easily.

	He had no reason to be shy, come to think of it.  Maybe only an inch
shorter than my own 6'1", he had short black hair which just barely came
down over his blue eyes in front.  Despite his habit of pushing the bangs
away from his face, they always seemed to return to that same position.  He
was slender, although not excessively thin, and from what I had seen of him
he appeared to work out regularly.  His sense of humor was great, whenever
he was comfortable enough to use it, and from our experience in class
together I knew that he was smarter than he let on.  All around, he was hot.

	Wait a second, what was I doing?  I thought the same thing just yesterday,
and look where I am now.  Give it a break, I told myself, before something
even worse happens.

	"Hey, Ryan.  It's been a long time.  How's Chase?"  Jack replied
sheepishly.  I was somewhat surprised by the question.  I didn't think Ryan
and Jack knew each other that well.

	"Way too long of a time.  I know we don't have classes together anymore,
but we should still hang out now and then, eh?"  Ryan gave a friendly grin
and Jack uncertainly nodded his agreement.  "Anyway, Chase is doing good.
It's our anniversary soon, so we're both counting down the days until spring
break so we can go celebrate in Rocky Point."

	My eyes shifted at that, the most reaction I allowed myself, and an awkward
silence fell over us all.  Jack was probably quiet for his shyness, Ryan for
his lack of anything more to say, and me for the disturbing thoughts that
were provoked by the mention of a gay relationship.  Surprisingly, Jack was
the first to recover.

	"So Jason, why weren't you in class today?"

	That question caught me completely off guard.  Stupidly, I hadn't thought
up a good excuse yet.  I wracked my brain, pushed my lying ability to the
max, and finally came up with a semi-suitable response.

	"Um, I had a, uh, doctor's appointment,"  I responded lamely.  "Was stuck
there all day."  I knew it was a wasted effort, marked as a lie by my
stuttering stalls.  I usually lied a lot better; maybe I wasn't sleeping
well enough.

	Jack seemed to accept the lie despite his dubious expression, but Ryan
stared at me with his suspicion becoming pointedly obvious.  Mercifully,
Ryan changed his expression first and tried to distract Jack from the topic.

	"So I guess we should order something sooner or later, eh?"  He asked
jovially.  After only a moment's thought, Jack ordered a small salad and I
decided on the cheapest option - garlic bread with Diet Pepsi.  Jack took
our order, and promised to be back in a couple seconds with our drinks.

	Just after he left, Ryan cut straight to the point.  "You didn't go to
class?"  He asked quietly.

	For a moment, I considered an attempt to reinforce my lie.  It might not be
too hard, if I said the right things, to make everything all right.  But
then, I'd been more open with Ryan than anyone else in my life before.  I
decided not to lie.  The truth, as it was now, merely meant an affirmative
nod.

	"But why, Jason?  You work your ass off in school!  I've never heard you
even think about ditching."  He dropped his voice lower as he asked, "Does
this have to do with last night?"

	I nodded again, but that wasn't enough this time.  Ryan merely sat
silently, patiently waiting for me speak.  I sighed, and softly began to
tell him what had happened.

	"It was after dinner.  My mom and dad were watching television when I came
up to them.  I said that I had something important to tell them.  It took a
while, but I finally got up the nerve to say it.  Finally, after all these
damned long years, I came out to them!  But they, well....

	"My father simply refused to believe it.  He demanded that I change, and he
would just barely accept my mother's repeated suggestion of counseling to
help their freak of a son.  We began to fight, and I got angry.  I said that
maybe I should just leave if my dad couldn't bear to have me as a son, and
to my surprise he agreed.  So, to even my own surprise, I actually left.

	"I'm such a God-damned idiot, really.  I should have known that they would
have taken it that way.  But I couldn't keep on living like that, hiding who
I really was.  I had nightmares almost every night because of it, and the
pent-up guilt and frustration made me argue with my parents more often than
I just spoke with them.

	"Maybe it would have been better if I had just kept on lying, no matter how
much it hurt, but I couldn't.  I just wasn't strong enough.  And now, look
what happened."  I sighed, unable to go on.  I closed my eyes to hold back
tears, too proud by nature to cry in public.  When I opened them again, I
was surprised to see that Ryan had moved across the table and was now
sitting next to me.  He put a comforting hand on my shoulder to support me
as he spoke.

	"I'm so sorry, Jason.  I had no idea.  My parents freaked out a little when
I came out, and so did Chase's, but it never got that bad."  He hesitated a
moment,  "Maybe you should talk to them, though, now that you've both cooled
down."

	"No,"  I interrupted vehemently.  "If I go back, they'll just want me to
forget myself again or they will never accept me.  I've already been
accepted to Arizona State University, so all I have to do find a way to keep
my grades up and then I'll be able to move into a dorm in just a few more
months."

	"But where are you going to live until then?  I'm guessing you stayed in
the racquetball court last night, judging by where we met today, but you
can't stay there forever!"  Ryan argued.

	"It's a big school.  I've already got it figured out.  All I need to do is
steal a coach's set of keys, make him think that he lost them, and then I'll
have access to the entire gym.  The upper levels have showers, the lower
levels have washing machines for team gear, there are bathrooms and drinking
fountains - it has everything I'll need.  Plus, I remember that they were
never able to install security cameras throughout most of it, so there's no
risk of being caught so long as I'm careful."

	Ryan seemed somewhat impressed by the thoroughness of my idea, but held
fast to his opposition.  "Come on, Jason.  This is nuts.....If you won't go
back to your parents, then maybe you can come stay with me for a while.  You
know how cool my parents are, they'll be fine with it!"

	"Ryan, you're a good friend to offer that, but I can't accept.  I'll be
fine on my own.  All I really need to do is find a job, even though I have
no idea where to look.  Almost everyplace around here has a full crew these
days."

	Cutting off further argument for a few seconds, Jack hurried to our booth
carrying two drinks.  Idly, I wondered what had taken him so long - the
place was almost empty, but even when it was full, it seldom took more than
a minute to fill a drink order.  Strangely, instead of staying to talk for a
few seconds, he left as soon as the drinks reached the surface of the table.
  Maybe there were more customers hiding under the tables in front that Jack
needed to serve.

	Ryan either didn't notice anything odd or just ignored it as he continued
his attempts to dissuade me.  Over time, his arguments wore thin and
repetitive, and eventually he was forced to accept my decision with a sullen
sigh.

	"If you ever need somebody, though,"  he said firmly at last, "just
remember that I'll always be there for ya."

	The conversation slowly moved on to other things, and I was beginning to
forget my worries through the company of an old friend.  I was very grateful
to Ryan for that.  As we spoke, I noticed Jack again, barely visible around
the corner.  Something made my eyes follow him as I continued talking with
Ryan..

	Amazingly, shy and docile Jack was arguing heatedly with Marco's wife, Amy.
  From his assertive gestures he was obviously trying to convince her
something, but judging by her expression she wasn't quite sure whether he
was right.  The argument stretched for a few minutes, with body language
becoming more and more emphatic before finally Amy gave in.  Whatever had
been said between the two, Jack appeared to have won the point.  I wondered
briefly what they had been talking about.

	It was a few more minutes until I saw Jack again, bringing the order to our
table.  This time, after he set down the food, he stayed to talk for a
minute.

	"So how's work going, Jack?"  I asked.

	"Not too bad, all things considered.  A busboy was fired yesterday, though.
  I'm glad he's gone - I didn't like him - but unfortunately it was the guy
who worked during my shift.  So now I'm having to order the food, bring it,
and clean the table afterward.  Thank God that business has been slow
today."

	I chuckled inwardly at the mention of a busboy being laid off.  Andrew must
have upset someone not as forgiving as myself.  Abruptly I realized what
Jack had just said and leaned forward with piqued interest.

	"So you're saying that there's a job opening now?"  I inquired carefully.

	"Yeah, even though it's going to be changing a bit soon.  See, our system
works with busboy-waiter pairs who work the same shift.  Tomorrow I'm
changing my hours from now to between six and ten at night, so the opening
will change with me."  I couldn't believe my luck.  After weeks of looking
everywhere that had a sign in front, I had finally stumbled across a
possible job right next door to school.  Plus the later hours would mean
that there was a far less chance of my parents finding me.  Who cares what
it paid, this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

	"Jack, can you grab me an application?"

	After appearing to think for a moment, Jack responded, "I can do you one
better.  Marcos and Amy know you, don't they?  I'll go talk to them and see
if they would be willing to hire ya.  I'm pretty sure they'll be cool with
it."  With a friendly smile, he picked up our empty glasses before quickly
returning to the front of the restaurant.

	Maybe making up for the lag in getting our drinks last time, Jack was back
again in less than a minute.  I assumed that he hadn't had a chance to ask
the couple yet, but to my surprise, he immediately asked when I could start.
  Maybe Marcos and Amy liked me more than I thought.

	"I can be here tomorrow night, if that's alright?"

	"Tomorrow is great.  It'll be good to actually have a bus boy on my first
day of a new shift."  The arrival of a new group caught Jack's attention.
He timidly acknowledged a beckoning gesture, but turned to us for one last
statement before getting back to work.  "Talk to Amy on your way out, and
she'll give you a uniform.  I'll see you tomorrow, Jason.  Take care of
yourself, Ryan."

	Ryan gave a small wave goodbye, then lifted his drink toward me.  "Well,
that's certainly worth a drink, then.  Cheers,"  I raised my glass and met
his, genuinely smiling for the first time in a long while.

	We stayed together for an hour or more, talking about whatever,
occasionally joined by Jack when he had a free moment.  All too soon,
though, Jack's shift ended and Ryan had to go home.  After receiving the
requisite set of clothes from Amy, I was left with no choice but to return
to McClintock.

***===***

	All colors of the sunset were slowly being replaced by a lusterless
blackness that crept across the sky.  Laying on my back, I was left with
nothing better to do but watch as night slowly smothered the day.  The
cement beneath me still felt warm, heated by the desert sun, but I barely
noticed it.  It seemed somehow easier now to relate to the dead, bare
concrete walls and the unadulterated darkness than any trees or clouds I had
been admiring earlier.

	My backpack was in one corner, where it landed when I had apathetically
tossed it.  The uniform for Nello's was placed carefully in the other
corner.  I, in-between the two, had only the bone-handled hunting knife with
me.  Toying with the blade out of sheer boredom, I brooded over the past,
the present, and what might become of my future.