Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2012 09:39:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tyler Adams <tyleradamsbooks@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Paths We Chose ch 10

     Chapter 10

     "Hey, man, what's up?" Phil called from across the lawn when he
noticed me.
     "Nothin' really. I guess I just needed to get out of the house."
     He totally checked me out due to the fact that I had my deck under one
arm, my backpack stuffed to overflowing on my back, and a small canvas
duffle bag in my other hand. I think he knew right away that "nothing"
really meant "something major."
     "So... you like getting rid of some stuff?" he asked.
     He had to have known that I was moving out, because of what he could
see I was carrying. I was deathly afraid to ask him what I needed to. If he
said no, the only other place I figured I could stay was under the
bleachers at the football field, so I just stood there and stared at the
ground. Phil waited for me to talk. He always does that when he knows I
need to spill. I'm not sure how he figures it out, but he's never missed
yet.
     He started picking at the leaves that were stuck on the rake tines.
     "This have something to do with you and Casey going out last night?"
     "Yeah, kind of," I answered, hoping he wasn't going to get religious
on me. "We went to a party. I... I kind of ended up in the hospital."
     "Wow. That stinks. That's something I never even managed to do. What
happened?"
     He continued piling up the few leaves that he had pulled free from the
rake, like he didn't know what to say. When he looked up again, he saw me
watching him, and asked, "So, what happened?" but he kept stirring the
little pile of leaves around with his rake, to kind of give me a little
space.
     "No one told me the punch was spiked. I kept drinking it because I
don't like the taste of beer. The doctor said it was lucky I woke up and
called my dad because if I hadn't..."
     "Ouch," Phil sympathized and then stirred the leaf pile some more. "So
what's with all the stuff?"
     "There was only guys at the party. I guess things kind of got out of
hand... I was so out of it, I kind of got someone else's pants on by
mistake. My dad noticed it at the hospital, and mom made a big scene about
it this morning. She thought I might have got a girl pregnant. She just
wouldn't leave it alone. She wanted to know who I was with and how long we
had been seeing each other. When she started bombarding me with questions
about how long I'd been having sex, I totally lost it and told her to stop
worrying because I like guys, and they can't get pregnant.
     "I don't think she caught it at first, but when she did, she went like
totally nutzo.
     "Phil, she just stood there for the longest time, looking like she was
going to explode, then she told me," and in a voice mocking my mom's shrill
screech, I said, `Don't you ever say those words to me again.'
     "Can you believe that? I mean, she walked into my bedroom and saw the
porn on my computer screen more than once. How could she not see that one
coming?
     "Anyway, that's when I lost it and started screaming at her. I guess I
over did it, because every time she started to say something I would like
just keep yelling I'm gay so I didn't have to listen to her ragging at
me. Then when she stopped talking and she still looked like she was gonna
explode I screamed: Face it you `stupid b...," I caught myself just in
time. I knew if Phil's parents were home, using words like that would not
help me get what I needed right now. "Anyway, I told her `the only son you
got left is a faggot!' She smacked me so hard my head jerked back and hit
the door post I was standing beside. I freakin' saw stars," I told Phil as
I reached back and rubbed the knot on the back of my head. "I'm never going
back home as long as she lives there." I lifted my bag slightly, to show
Phil that I had brought my things with me.
     "Do... do you like think I could stay with you guys `till I could find
another place to live?" I finally asked.
     Phil's eyebrows involuntarily shot upward.
     "Maybe," he told me. But it sounded more like a question than an
answer. "We got a sleep sofa in the living room.
     "You think your parents would go for it?"
     "We can always ask when they get home. I guess the worst they can do
is say no."
     Actually I think he had serious doubts that his parents would even
consider letting me stay with them once they knew I had run away from home,
but at least he was willing to try to help me out.
     "When will they get home?" I asked.
     "Hard telling, but they should be back before supper. You wanna help
me rake leaves?"
     "Not really. I still kind of have a really bad headache. ...but then
maybe they'll see that I can earn my keep."
     Two hours later, the yard was clean and we had heaped all the leaves
into one gigantic pile.
     "You want something to drink, Alex?"
     "As long as it's not beer... or strawberry flavored" I told him,
thinking about last night's punch and rolling my eyes for effect.
     Phil landed a solid punch on my arm like he always did when we didn't
know what to say to each other, and then he tackled me into the pile of
leaves. He tried tickling me, I'm sure to get me to loosen up, but I was
too distracted to even squirm.
     "Phil? I'm serious about never going home. I don't think I can handle
it anymore. My parents are always yelling and screaming at each other about
something... and now it's about me. I just can't take it anymore."
     Phil shoved his hand out toward me, pulled me to my feet, and we
headed to the house. We had just popped the top on our soda cans when the
car pulled into the driveway and I started freaking.
     I saw Phil smile when his brother Sammy squealed to Aaron, "Look what
Phil made for us, Arn. Come on!"
     "Let's go out and throw `em into the pile of leaves," he said as he
started for the door, but I was frozen in place with fear. Just then, his
mom opened the kitchen door and entered the room with an arm full of bags.
     "Oh, hi boys. Alex, how are you. I didn't..." but before she could
finish, I shot from the room, slammed the bathroom door closed behind me,
and noisily deposited my breakfast into the toilet.