151 Days (24 page)

He took half a second and then answered with, “Thinking.”

More typical Greymark bullshit. He couldn’t even admit he was hiding and had to find some way to make himself look better. “Do you have any idea how horrible today has been?” It was such a selfish thing to ask him, but it just came rushing out of my mouth like vomit. “I am the laughingstock of the school. People whispering behind my back, everyone looking away as I pass by. What am I supposed to do now?”

“I don’t have any answers.” He sounded so depressed, so not Brad, that I took a mental half step back.

“Is it true?” I asked him, even though I knew it was. “Because if you were just sticking up for the lame kid, you can tell people that, and they’d believe you.” Where was this coming from? Was I asking him to lie now? Was I willing to lie just to keep my status?

“One, he isn’t lame,” he fired back, pissed. It was more passion than I had seen in him in the three years we had been dating. We always seemed to be circling each other in some weird, emotional, cat-and-mouse game, neither one of us wanting to be real before the other one. But this, this was the real Brad, and it just nailed home that everything I had heard was true. “Two, you think today has been any easier on me? You think I can just say something like that and not be—” He took a half beat as he searched for the right word. “—concerned about how it will affect my life? You can’t be so conceited that you’ve made this all about yourself?” I felt my face get warm, knowing that was exactly what I had been doing. “And three, you had to have some clue. After all, wasn’t the reason you went out with me in the first place was because you didn’t want to have some guy trying to get up under your skirt every five seconds? We both know I was the safe choice.”

I fired back, “Maybe I wanted you to get up under it more.” But it wasn’t true. He was right. One of the things I liked about dating Brad was that he didn’t paw over me like I saw the other guys do to their girlfriends.

“Well then, maybe you should have dated someone who was into you!” If he had reached out and slapped me, it would have hurt less. He regretted it the second he said it, but it was too late. There was no way for him to take his words back, and even if he did, the fact that he had been telling the truth remained.

Possibly for the first time since we met.

“Jennifer, that wasn’t what I—” His apology made me madder than the actual comment. I grabbed his Coke and threw it in his face. While he sputtered from the shock, I pulled his class ring off and threw it at his head.

Hard.

I yelled, “Fuck you, Brad!” before turning around and running out of the theater.

As worst-case scenarios went, that was near the top of the list.

I ran to my car, yanked the door open, crashed into my seat, and slammed the door shut. I was crying even though I wasn’t sure why. Was I crying because of what he said? Because of what he was now? Because of what it meant for me? I had no earthly idea. All I knew was I was crying, and I couldn’t stop. Through blurred vision I drove to Robbie’s, the only place I knew where I would be safe, because no one else I knew would be there.

I had been shopping at Twice Upon a Time since it reopened a couple of years earlier. It used to be nothing more than a thrift shop before Robbie took it over. He had bought a few stores’ worth of clothes from New York and brought them back in what I can only assume was his attempt to infuse some class into Foster. Most people still thought of it as an old folks’ store, which was good for me since I always scored the best stuff.

“What the hell is wrong with guys?” I screamed as soon as I walked in.

Robbie, who had been putting a jacket up on a rack, froze and gave me a weird look. “Are you talking in general or someone specific?”

Tears were running down my face, and I hated that I couldn’t stop. “All of you! You’re all so fucking useless! You just take and take and never care about anyone else, and then once you’re done you… you….”

And I broke down, unable to say anything else.

“Whoa,” he said, putting the jacket aside and seeming to glide over to me. Normally I would have asked him why he was on roller skates, but right now I just didn’t care. “Where is this coming from? What happened?” he asked, concerned.

“Brad,” I said through my wailing, wishing I had some small control over how I felt.

“Brad?” he asked, confused. “The moose?”

I hated that he called Brad that, but since right then I was calling him so much worse in my head, I just nodded.

“What happened with Brad? Did he break up with you?” I shook my head. “Did you guys fight?” I nodded. “About what?” he asked and then gasped. “Did he cheat on you?”

I looked up at him and nodded. The pain and the anger I was feeling were just out of control now.

“With who?” he asked, sounding like someone asking what she’d missed on the last episode of
Real Housewives
.

“Kyle,” I blurted out, falling into racking sobs again.

He paused and cocked his head in confusion. “Kyle? You mean Kylie? Or Kelly?”

“
Kyle
!” I screamed.

“That sounds like a boy’s name.”

I know he said it more out loud than to me, but I still reacted like he had been telling me the most obvious stupid fact in the world. “It
is
a guy! He’s fucking gay! He came out in front of everyone yesterday!”

He didn’t say anything for a long time as I just cried and cried. I finally forced myself to breathe and grab for some control. After about three minutes he asked me, “Is he okay?”

I gaped up at him, mouth open in complete disbelief.

“Is
he
okay? Is
he
fucking okay? Are you kidding me?” I raged at him.

“Well, yeah,” he answered calmly. “He just came out to what, at best, would be a hostile crowd, at worst a casting call for extras in
Deliverance 2: Scream, Pig, Scream
. I know you’re feeling shitty, but you’re beautiful and will get another boyfriend. Brad, on the other hand, might just get the shit beat out of him—or worse.” His tone didn’t vary one iota from pleasant, but I could sense the anger and something else behind his words. “So let me ask again, is he okay?”

When I could control my jaw again, I snapped my mouth shut. When I opened it again, I hissed, “I can’t believe you.” I backed away from Robbie as if he were a stranger. “No, wait, I can. Of course you’re going to take his side. What was I thinking? Now he’s fair game for you, right? Free to swoop in and grab yourself a new boy before the rest of the town—”

He caught up with me in one long stride and grabbed my hands firmly. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I know you’re mad, so I am going to ignore everything you just said. Let me make a few things clear. One, you’re out of line,
way
out of line, and you know it. Two, you’re pissed because you think Brad coming out makes you look like a fool, and you’re probably right. Three, I am not kidding when I say he is in real danger. And four, if you feel like verbally vomiting all over me again, do not think I am above slapping a hysterical woman. Like my mom always said, if you want to act like a crazy person, you get treated like a crazy person.”

“Let go of me,” I said, hauling in a futile attempt to free my hands.

“You’re upset right now, so this isn’t going to make much sense, but I am not mad at you and, when you have calmed down, you can come back any time you want.”

I tried to pull away again. “Screw you. I am never coming back here again. I can’t believe—”

“Right. Just remember, everyone has at least one free crazy. This is yours. When you want to talk, I’m here.”

He let go, and I almost fell on my ass, I had been pulling so hard. I glared at him and wanted to scream and cuss him out so bad, but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was really pissed at Brad, and Robbie was just an easy target.

Instead, I turned around and stomped out, sure I was never going to step foot in there again.

What I did next I am not proud of.

Somewhere between Robbie’s and home, I had decided that I was the victim, which made Brad the attacker. So, when I got to my room, I did a lot of things quickly. I changed my status on Facebook and then defriended Brad. I wrote an ugly post about how people who lie and pretend to be something they aren’t should be shot. The post got a dozen likes in thirty seconds, which meant it was the response people had been waiting for.

That weekend I spent with “friends,” bad-mouthing Brad everywhere I went.

People lapped it up in a way that would have been disturbing to me if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my own mood. I heard exactly what I wanted to hear: that I had done nothing wrong and that they had known Brad was an asshole the entire time. Of course, this was from people who had practically waited on him hand and foot since he was a sophomore. Again, I ignored the irony because what they were saying was exactly what I wanted to hear. The one I was really shocked to hear from was Kelly. He seemed to have a lot more to say than everyone else. He explained to anyone who would listen that Brad hit on him the summer they both went to football camp and that Kelly had had to fight him off.

That didn’t sound right at all, but at the time I said nothing because I wanted to hurt Brad in any way I could. When I showed up to school Monday, I acted like I had been saved from a kidnapper. Everyone hated Brad and not one person blamed me, which I thought was awesome at the time. My satisfaction lasted until lunch. I held court at The Table, telling people the shock I’d felt when I heard about my one, true love being gay.

“Well, we took care of him for you,” Tony announced smugly as people laughed at my story.

I smiled at him before my brain engaged. “You did?” I asked brightly, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that was settling into my stomach.

He nodded and looked at everyone else. “Yeah—Josh, Cody, and me taught him a lesson before gym.”

People cheered, and I felt the smile on my face go from genuine to fake in one second flat. I forced myself not to react since I was in public, but inside my mind was racing. “What kind of lesson?”

He gave me a smile that looked predatory. “The kind that he limped away from.”

Robbie’s voice echoed in my mind. “
I am not kidding when I say he is in real danger.
”

“Yeah, and from what I hear they are going to have some meeting so they can kick him off the team,” Cody chimed in. “Can’t have some fag watching me while I shower and stuff.”

My mouth moved faster than my mind. “Did he watch you before?” Everyone looked over at me, and I mentally backtracked. “I mean, did you catch him before or something?”

“Fuck no,” he answered quickly. “If I did, I would have put him down a long time ago.”

That was doubtful since Cody was at best a Walmart version of Brad. “But he practically won state for us last year.” Again I wanted to know what the hell was wrong with my mouth.

“Yeah,” he agreed slowly. “But now he’s a fag.”

Everyone else murmured in agreement.

“I have to go,” I said quickly, startling Tony, who had been high-fiving Kelly.

“What, why?” he asked. I could see the rest of The Table was wondering the same thing.

“My dad,” I began lamely. “My dad wanted to know the whole story. You know, ’cause he’s pissed.” I was lying outright; my dad didn’t know a thing about what had happened. There was no way he was hearing about it from me.

“Oh my God!” Lori said, covering her mouth. “He could like be guilty of fraud and stuff, right?”

She had just said what was easily the dumbest thing I had heard since the last time she’d tried to think and speak, but I couldn’t say a word about it because she was on my side. Instead, I just nodded and smiled. “Maybe. I just want to be sure.”

They all just smiled at me as I tried not to run away from the table.

I was pissed at Brad, sure, but not because he was gay. I hated him because he’d hurt me, lied to me. But would I want anyone, much less an ass hat like Tony Wright, beating him up? Not on a bet. Never. Tony beating up Brad had nothing to do with me, and I knew it. Tony beating up Brad was Tony’s little mind at work. And the fact that his dad was a huge homophobe, and Tony was a bully.

One weekend had passed, and things were already spiraling out of control.

I tried not to peel out of the parking lot before I raced to Robbie’s place.

The door slammed open, and I rushed into the shop. Robbie screamed in fright from behind the counter and lobbed a well-worn copy of
Under the Rainbow
, which hit me in the chest. That hurt. I picked up the book and gave him a look. “Why the hell did you throw a book at my boob?”

He paused for a moment, his hand still on his chest. “You come barging in, almost breaking my door, and the first thing I think of is that the cast of
Honey Boo Boo
is here to lynch me. I did what any self-respecting homosexual would. I threw my copy of Liza Minnelli’s biography at them—well, you—in self-defense and screamed for my life.” He took the book back and slipped it behind the counter. “It was just a bonus that I hit your boob.”

“Okay, well, that makes no sense. Don’t you own a gun?” I asked him.

He cocked his head and sighed. “Yes, little Miss Texas, like everyone else in this state, I was issued a gun and three complimentary packs of ammo when I left civilization to move here.” He gave me a scornful look. “Of course I don’t have a gun. Did you see how I reacted with a paperback book? If I had a gun, you’d be on the floor bleeding, and I would be hyperventilating.” He emerged from behind the counter. “So what happened to never coming back?”

“Thought I had one free crazy. I am redeeming it as of now,” I said, trying not to blush at the memory of my previous actions.

“Done,” he said, smiling. “Consider it redeemed. So seriously, why are you here? I expected you to wait at least a week or so or until you missed an episode of
Smash
before you came crawling back.”

That made me smile. “I am not crawling anywhere, and I am here because you were right.”