Date: Sat, 2 Jun 2012 04:14:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tyler Adams <tyleradamsbooks@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Paths We Chose Chapter 2

     Four stops later, I stepped from the bus into the bright, late summer
air in front of my house. It was almost like a fog had lifted from around
me. It was kinda weird, because I didn't remember the world looking this
bright for quite a while. I even smelled some kind of flowers that must
have been blooming. Maybe it was because, even though I was scared to death
of going to the skate park with someone I hardly even knew existed before
today, I was a little hopeful that the worst might be over for me.
     Things continued to look bright when I noticed my neighbor Jason
Jenkins getting out of his sky blue Mustang. It is way hard for me not to
notice Jason. He and his parents moved in next door to us a year ago. I
think Daryl catching me checking him out on more than one occasion was the
biggest clue he had that I might not be normal, even though he never asked
me about it. He's not the only one who caught me looking, either. A couple
of times when I thought Jason didn't know I was looking, he'd like stop and
pulled up his shirt like he was checking out his abs and look right at
where I was. He's got at least a six pack.
     I decided to get the mail from the mailbox so I could sneak a few
looks before he went inside. I guess I wasn't too good at hiding my
intentions because the second time I looked over at him, he was looking
straight at me. Next thing I knew, he was pulled his shirt off and started
flexing his biceps and tightening his abs. I hope mom's not too ticked that
I ripped open one of the junk mail letters to try and throw him off. What
I'd give for an upper body like that -- Not! I know he spends a lot of
time in the gym, and that's where I draw the line. I'm just not into pain
like that, even if it could make me look like a god.
     I wanted to die when he grabbed a certain part of his anatomy and made
like he knew what I was thinking. How could I always be so stupid? Every
time I turn around I'm making some stupid mistake. My whole life's been one
big long series of mistakes.
     Showing up for my birthday was the first mistake I ever made --I
mean, showing up for the very first one, as in the day I was born; April
22, sixteen and a half years ago. I was totally unplanned and
unwanted. Daryl wasn't even two months old when mom got preggers with me. I
happen to know that because whenever I did something that she didn't like,
she'd remind me. Or worse, tell someone else.
     If that wasn't enough, the fact that I wasn't the little girl she was
led to believe I was when she had the ultrasound, was. I never used to
understand what she meant when she'd tell me she should have made a
donation to the doctor's toxic waste bin. I can see now she's always had it
in for me just for being a guy. Yeah, like I actually had anything to do
with it!
     Daryl used to tell me, when I'd complain to him, I was just being
oversensitive. That was easy for him to say, `cause mom never used to run
her hand through his hair and tell someone that he was supposed to be her
Darlene Joanna or some other freakin' girl's name. His hair wasn't too
long, either. Of all the things mom did that got under my skin, though,
calling me Alexis was the one that bugged me the most, `cause after that
she'd always ask whoever she was talking with in that sickeningly sweet
voice of hers; "Don't you think that's a pretty name?" It was always the
same after that; they'd laugh and agree that it was a cute name. Then she'd
look right at me and add, "I was so disappointed when they told me he was a
boy."
     Dad said it was the nurse's suggestion that they name me Alex
Daniel. I hate that name too, because it's almost like Danielle. Even
Fredrick would have been better.
     I found out about another big mistake when dad came home a little
drunk after being out with his buds. Daryl and I were arguing about
something, and when dad showed up we asked him which one of us was
right. I'm not sure why he got mad, but he practically shouted `how the
heck should I know,' at us --only he didn't use the word "heck." Then he
went on to tell us "I never even wanted to have any kids, so just pretend
I'm not here and figure it out yourselves. I only married your mom because
she told me she was gonna take me for child support if I didn't. What a
mistake that was; thinking if I was gonna feel the pain I may as well get
some fringe benefits."

     I ignored Jason and went into the house. ...kind of. How the heck was
I gonna not at least take one more look when he's putting on a show like
that?
     At four o'clock sharp, Phil was ringing the front doorbell. His ear to
ear smile had kind of the opposite effect that I think he was hoping for. I
mean he looked like a puppy dog, all eager to play and stuff. ...so not
cool. I pulled back a little, wondering if he was fully recovered from his
druggie days.
     If his smile wasn't enough to make me pull back, the first words out
of his mouth certainly were.
     "I was praying all day you'd tell me you'd hang with me."
     Say what? So that's why he wants to be my friend. Up `til then, I was
kind of thinking Boy Scout. It had never even crossed my mind that he might
be a religious fanatic. I certainly hope this whole skateboarding thing
isn't some kind of trick he was taught to do so he could prey on me while
I'm weak. I could only ever remember going to church one time in my life,
but I had plenty of experience last year with some of the guys from the
Bible Club that met at school. I think I must have been their special
project for part of last year or something.
     Wanting desperately to change the subject, I walked right into his
trap.
     "So, you said you like died or something? Did you like OD?"
     He looked at me funny for a moment like he didn't remember saying that
this morning.
     "When I asked you if you used to have dreads, you told me that guy
died."
     "Oh, that. What I meant was; I became a Christian and gave my life to
God. The bible says when we do that, the old person passes away, and a new
one is born in its place. It's just a figure of speech they say in church a
lot. I never would have said that word if I would have thought about it
because of what happened to..."
     He never got to finish his sentence, because I figure the only way to
stop this whole religion thing was to slam my deck on the pavement and
shove off.
     The first curb we got to, the rear truck of Phil's deck caught and he
nearly took a dive into the pavement. I made a nasty comment about his
ability, but inside, I breathed a little sigh of relief knowing that he
wasn't a pro or anything.
     We both managed to jump the curb a few times after that and tried to
impress each other with what we could do. When we rolled around the last
corner, and the skate park was in sight, I gave Phil a little shove to
throw him off balance, and took off to cover the last 100 yards. "Last one
to the half pipe's a wuss," I yelled over my shoulder.
     I had a comfortable lead for the first 50 yards. Then my lack of
conditioning started throwing a dark sheet over my eyes. Phil caught up to
me, but couldn't quite pull ahead.
     We both doubled over for a few minutes to catch our breath before
getting in line to await our turn.
     "You ever watch the X-Games" I asked him?"
     "Like all the time. Just for the record though, I don't have the
ba... I mean I don't have the nerve to try and do half that stuff they do."
     "Daryl tried to do a 360 Flip, once. He almost landed it to. We should
try it" I told him, hoping to goad him into doing something crazy like
Daryl used to do all the time.
     Phil looked at me like to say "No way...?"
     I have no idea why I was suddenly proposing to do something I was
always afraid to try. Maybe Daryl left some of his bravado for me as an
inheritance. "Daryl said he learned it by having some guy lift him when he
started his jump. We used to help each other do lots of crazy stuff like
that. Come on, I called over my shoulder as I shoved off toward the
half-pipe. One warm up run, then we'll do it. If you help lift me as when I
jump, I'd be able to stay in the air long enough to try to get the board
around."
     "I don't know," Phil tentatively mumbled. "...you go first."
     We both warmed up by taking a turn on the half, and we both fell flat
on our faces trying to show off. It's not that falling down was funny, but
it had been so long since I had actually had any fun with someone else,
that I just started laughing. My laughing started Phil laughing, and before
long, some of the other guys watching us started laughing too. It's weird
how laughter does that -- I mean like it gets other people laughing just
because you're laughing.
     "Okay. Start back there" Phil told me like he was my personal trainer,
"and I'll run alongside of you. When you get to the ramp, I'll put my hands
on either side of your waist and when you jump to flip the board, I'll lift
you as much as I can. That'll give you a little extra time to wait for the
board to land before trying to hit it."
     I was doubtful we could pull it off, but as many laughs as we had at
the half pipe, I figured the worst that could happen is that we would
entertain some of the spectators over here, too.
     "Ready! GO! Phil shouted."
     We both started at the same time, and as I got to the small ramp, Phil
was right beside me. I felt his hands grab onto my waist and lift me. I
gave the board a kick, trying to rotate it a full turn, and at the same
time, flip it over through the air two times before landing on it.
     Disaster! As I jumped, Phil's one hand slipped from my waist, the
skateboard shot across the park, and we both fell into a heap on the ground
laughing too hard to get up.
     "Did you see my board fly?" I roared
     "Oh my gosh! Alex, you must have set a Guinness Book of World Records
for the farthest a skate board has ever been launched. Did you see the look
on that guy's face when it came from out of nowhere and nearly hit him?"
     Someone's mom ran over to where we were lying in a heap, and asked if
we were all right, but seeing us laughing like a couple of hyenas kept her
from being overly concerned. The skater-boy, who had nearly been
decapitated by my skateboard, coolly brought it over to us while we were
getting to our feet.
     "That was awesome," he said as he handed my deck to me. "You guys get
off on shooting your deck at unsuspecting guys? I can't believe you
launched that thing from all the way over here."
     "Thanks," I told him, holding my hand out for five while trying not to
stare into his emerald eyes or his full, ruby red lips.
     "Dude!" He said as he gave skin and took off on his own board.
     I suddenly realized I was staring at the guy skating away, his long,
jet black hair streaming behind him, and looked over to see if Phil had
noticed me watching. He evidently hadn't. He was too busy ogling the guy
himself. When he sensed I was looking his way, he quickly looked at
something else and uneasily kicked at a stone on the path.
     "I'd definitely kiss those lips" was what I wanted to say to Phil at
the moment. Instead, with a smirk on my face, I just calmly said "Your
turn."
     "No way! I probably wouldn't survive the impact like you did. Besides
I probably should be getting home for supper. You want to eat at my house
tonight?"
     "Your mom wouldn't care?"
     "Heck no, we have people over all the time. My mom loves it when
people drop in. She says that getting to know people is what makes life
worth living."
     "We'd hafta stop at my house to see if it's okay with my mom
first. Hopefully she's back from her vacation."
     When we got to my house, mom was just pulling into the driveway, so I
motioned for her to put down her window.
     "Mom, this is my friend Phillip Johnson from school. He sits near me
in homeroom."
     "Nice to meet you, Phillip. Alex, did you do your homework before you
went out?"
     "Mo-om. I can get it done later."
     "Alex, you know what we told you about that."
     "Mom, could I just eat supper with Phil's family since his mom invited
me. I mean geeze, you're always after me to get out and make friends." She
paused, so I pounced. "I'll take my books along so we can do our homework
together. Phil's in some of my classes."
     "Alright honey, but I want you home before nine o'clock tonight with
your homework finished. Do you understand me Alex?"
     "Ye-e-es. Do you always have to call me that? I'm sixteen for crying
out loud."
     She just rolled up the window and moved the car into the garage.
     Phil was smiling again.
     "What?" I asked.
     "I'm just laughing because that's what my mom does to me all the
time. She's so lame. Watch, as soon as we get in the door at my house she's
gonna say," and in a high pitched voice he mimicked her: "Hi hun, who's
your new friend. Will he be staying for dinner?" Then when dinner is ready
she'll say "Bo-oys, Dinners ready. Wash your hands and come to the table."
     It took about ten minutes to get from my house to Phil's, and sure
enough, before the screen door closed behind us, Phil's mom turned to face
us, and smiling, she lofted the predicted words into the air in the exact
same tone of voice Phil had used. We looked at each other and burst out
laughing.
     Phil's mom gave us "the look," but left it at that, assuming that it
must be some sort of private joke. Ten minutes later, having just gotten
the computer booted so we could play a game before supper, we heard the
screen door open and Mrs. Johnson bellowing out "Bo-oys, dinners
ready. Wash your hands and come to the table." Phil rolled his eyes and
shook his head. "See, I told you they're all the same. Some day when I'm
thinking of getting married, I'm going to ask the lucky girl if she knows
all the lingo for being a wife."
     Phil's two younger brothers were already sitting at the table when we
got there, and his dad was pulling up a chair to sit down directly across
the table from where I was to sit.
     "Who's your new friend, Phillip?" then reaching across the table to
shake my hand he said "I'm Ed, Phil's dad."
     "Dad this is Alex Harper. He lives up the road from us and sits near
me in homeroom."
     "Harper..." Then his face darkened a bit as he asked, "Any relation to
the Harper boy that passed away recently?"
     I looked down, feeling a sudden pang of pain and told him that he was
my brother.
     "I'm so sorry. It must be really tough for you." Mr. Johnson
immediately started to pray.
     "Father God, I ask that you comfort Philip's friend, Alex, in this
time of loss. I ask that your make a path in his life that will help him to
recover from his sadness, and in the end strengthen him so that he can help
others who suffer such pain. Ease his sorrow, dear Lord. Bless this food
that we are about to eat. Use it to strengthen our bodies for your
service. Bless our time together at this dinner table so that when we leave
it, we are encouraged and satisfied. Amen."
     Supper time at the Johnson House was a lot different than supper time
at my own house, especially now that Daryl wasn't there. We hardly ever sat
at the table to eat a meal together, and when we did, either no one talked
at all, or we ended up arguing about something. I didn't really feel all
that comfortable trying to eat while everyone was battling it out for talk
time, especially when some of the talk was aired in the form of questions
directed at me. I did manage to be polite, though, and tried my hardest to
remember all of the table manners that my mom's sister Crystal used to
teach us when she and Uncle Bob came to visit.
     After supper, we went to Phil's bedroom to study. Phil and I actually
only had one class together, and there was no homework for that class, but
I figured as long as I got my work done, mom didn't need to know.
     We did work on our homework most of the time, but I found it hard to
concentrate with Phil in the room. I kept thinking about how he had watched
that guy at the park and was dying to know if maybe he liked guys. I kept
thinking that if he did, then maybe I'd get my chance to find out what it
was like to kiss someone like I'd seen Daryl do so often. I kept my mouth
shut, though, thinking that if he didn't like guys the way I did, I could
end up being very alone. In the end, it was a no-brainer. He wasn't even
what I would consider hot, anyway. Not that I would say no if he asked,
though. I mean, he was a totally nice guy. He was different than other guys
I knew. I didn't think had anything to do with his religion either, because
he didn't really push it on me like he thought I should be all religious
too. Although he was kinda nerdy looking, he definitely didn't act that
way. He acted cool, but he wasn't like the jocks. ...who, by the way are
total jerks in my book of books. I didn't think he was a brainiac
either. ...at least he didn't come across as one. Maybe it was his
confidence. Maybe that's what it was --that he had confidence in
himself. Not the kind of confidence that makes you think you're better than
everyone else, but the kind that gives someone else the impression that you
know what you're doing, and that you can handle things.
     One time when I looked up, I swear he was checking me out, because
when I subtly repositioned myself to give him a better view, his face got
red and he quickly looked back at his book. More than once I know he caught
me looking. I always knew I was had, too, because every time he'd notice me
looking, he'd ask me something or make a comment about something that he
knew. That's why I was thinking maybe I should ask him if he liked guys,
`cause it didn't really seem to faze him when he'd catch me staring like
that.
     I finally thought up a way to safely bring up the subject that was
keeping me from concentrating on my homework. I looked over again. My
checks burned hot when I saw that he was already looking at me. My mouth
opened a little, but before I could get any sound to come out, he was
snapping his book closed. "It's 8:30 man. Let's grab some ice cream before
it gets too late."
     Disappointed at myself for missing my chance, I slid my History book
into my backpack and followed him out of the room.
     "Hi, boys. You two getting your homework finished?" Mrs. Johnson asked
as we entered the kitchen.
     "Pretty much of it. Do we have any ice cream?"
     "Sure, help yourselves."
     "Thanks mom."
     "You're welcome. Leave some for Sam and Arn."
     "Yeah, Okay. You ever have Moose Tracks?"
     "What's that?"
     "It's ice cream with tundra mud and frozen chocolate covered moose
dung in it."
     "Phillip Ryan Johnson," gasped Phil's mom at the very same instant
that I chuckled and said "You eat shit?"
     "Dude... my mom..." he nervously motioned toward her with his head.
     "Sorry" I whispered. Then, in a normal voice, said "I'll eat some if
you do."
     We finished our ice cream after deciding that we would go
skateboarding again on Thursday after school. Neither of us had a job, but
Phil had to baby sit his brothers, Sammy and Aaron, or Arn as they called
him, after school on Mondays and Wednesdays until his mom got home from her
part time job.

     I had no sooner walked in the front door that night, when I heard mom
and dad arguing. I thought she was going to clear her head when she left us
for a few days but it sure sounded to me like she'd picked up right where
she left off. I wanted to just slap her for the way she treated me and dad
all the time. She had treated me like I was a little kid when I asked her
if I could eat at Phillip's house, and now she was telling dad off for
doing, or not doing, something that he probably had no idea about. I almost
wish she hadn't come back. I know you're not supposed to hate anyone, but
with her, it's hard not to. It's like she spends her time thinking up ways
to make us mad just so she can scream about something.
     I tried to sneak upstairs but I forgot to skip the third step and it
squeaked.
     "Alex, is that you?" she yelled from the TV room. "Have I never told
you to put your dirty laundry in the hamper?"
     "I do put my stuff in the hamper," I protested.
     "Then why is there a towel lying on your bed? It's probably still wet,
and you are not going to change your bed sheets because of your own
sloppiness. Now march upstairs and put that thing where it belongs."
     "Love you too," I sassed, and then added an expletive under my breath,
so she couldn't hear me.
     She never sees when I do something right. She just sees when I don't
do something to her perfect standards. Me and dad went through the entire
house yesterday and picked up everything we could find, including some
things she let out before she left on her mini-vacation. ...We even loaded
the dishwasher for crying out loud. I miss one lousy towel because I'm late
for school, though, and that's all I hear about.
     As soon as I got to my room, I tossed the offending towel on the floor
and kicked it under my bed. I did a report for Sociology class last year,
and came across something interesting. I found out that I'm what they call
passive aggressive. The passive part means I usually don't make a lot of
waves when someone gets in my face about something. The aggressive part
means if I don't want to do something, I'll find a way not to do it. Like
now, for instance; it would have been just as easy to pick up the towel and
put it in the hamper. But, because she has to be such a jerk about it I
decided to do things my way. I just hope the thing dries out before it
starts stinking. But even if it doesn't, I'll just sneak it into the
laundry then.
     Daryl used to make me chill when mom would get under my skin. I'm
afraid now that he's not around anymore I'm just going to lose it someday
when she does that and tell her I'm gay. I think that's the thing that
would bug her more than anything else I could do without getting arrested.
     I plopped down on my bed and started thinking about what I also looked
up when I was doing my report for Sociology class --although I didn't
write about it. What makes a guy gay? ...and I don't mean what do gay guys
actually do together, either. That's not the hard part for me to figure out
`cause I'm like thinking about that stuff twenty-four, seven. The hard part
for me is: why do I even want to check out guys when every other guy in
this whole friggin' world is into girls? I figure if I knew the reason,
then maybe I could change things.
     How can no one know the answer to that? The only things I could dig up
were theories like having a domineering mom and an emotionally detached or
missing father. That's definitely us, but if that's why I'm gay, then why
did Daryl get to like girls like a normal guy?