Authors: John Goode
However, as I looked down at Robbie’s unconscious form, it began to dawn on me that I might not be as prepared as I thought I was.
I could call my mom, but that seemed like a bad idea. She already distrusted Robbie. In her world, an older gay guy giving advice and clothes to a teen boy meant the old gay guy was a predator. Calling her and saying Robbie had passed out would have unleashed a whole new set of suspicions. Was he drunk? On drugs? Was he trying to get you drunk? Forget that. I could call Gayle at Nancy’s, but she would call an ambulance, and so far I wasn’t sure Robbie needed that. I went through a whole list of adults I could call, but it came down to one name, the person I knew wouldn’t narc me out or panic.
Tyler.
I grabbed the shop phone and dialed the sports shop’s number from memory. It felt like a million years ago when I would call up and talk to Brad over winter break. When did time get so messed up? I was eighteen years old, but I felt like I was a hundred.
Tyler’s way-too-chipper voice answered the phone. “Parker’s Sporting Goods.”
“Tyler, it’s Kyle,” I said quickly. “I need some help.”
“What’s up?” he asked casually, probably thinking I was calling to ask him about Brad.
Nice try, sir, but not even close.
“I am at Robbie’s shop, and he had a panic attack and passed out. I don’t know what to do.” I tried not to sound as scared as I felt, but I’m pretty sure I was screwing that up.
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and I wondered if he had hung up. The only way I knew he hadn’t was the sound of his breathing. After what seemed like hours of nothing, he said, “Call an ambulance.”
“Tyler!” I called out over the phone. “What if he doesn’t need one and is charged for it? You know it will be all over town the second he ends up in the ER.” The time it took a rumor to reach from one side of town to the other was best measured in picoseconds. If picoseconds is too nerdy for you, one picosecond is a trillionth of second.
“What do you want me to do, Kyle?” he asked, knowing damn well what I wanted. “If I show up over there, he will lose his fucking mind. Call someone else.”
“Like who?” I was close to losing my own mind. “Give me a person that I can trust not to blab that the gay recluse who lives on the edge of town passed out in his shop, and I will call them. One name, go for it.”
Again with the silence and finally a defeated “I’ll be right over.”
I don’t know how he did it, but the way he hung up the phone made it sound angry.
Less than five minutes later he walked in the door, looking as angry as his hang-up had sounded. I pointed behind the counter, and he walked over and knelt down. He put a hand on Robbie’s forehead, then down to the vein in the side of his neck, checking Robbie’s pulse. “Go to the bathroom and get a damp washcloth.” He scooped Robbie up behind his knees and shoulders, took a breath, and rose to his feet, carrying Robbie like he weighed nothing. Because Tyler wears comfortable clothes and has that easy way about him, it’s easy to forget that he’s also in great shape. When he carried Robbie to the backroom as if he was a mannequin, I had to admit, for his age Tyler was kinda hot.
I ran to the bathroom and got a washcloth.
I handed it to him and watched him apply it gently to Robbie’s forehead. “What’s wrong with him? Why won’t he wake up?”
Without looking at me, Tyler asked, “Do you know who Riley was?”
I didn’t know specifically, but I did know there was in fact a Riley somewhere in Robbie’s past. So I held my hand out and waved it back and forth indicating “kind of.”
“After Riley died, Robbie checked out for a while. His mother came to town and took care of him. He was prescribed Valium for panic attacks.” He looked over at me. “What set it off?”
I wondered how much I should share and then thought better of it. I mean, I had dragged Tyler in there even though he didn’t want to come. The least I could give him was the truth. “Some Cruella De Vil woman came in and gave him an envelope. I think she was Riley’s mom.”
“Dolores?” he mused out loud. “Holy shit, I’d pass out too.”
“Why?” I asked, wanting to know more of the story.
He paused, obviously wondering how much he was going to share with me. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say after Riley died, she was a bitch to Robbie.”
“And he hates you why?” I asked, hoping he would answer automatically.
He looked over at me and grinned. “If he hasn’t told you by now, there’s no way I am going to.”
Crap
.
I was about to try a different approach when Robbie began to come to. Both Tyler and I quieted down as we watched him and wondered if he was okay.
He slapped Tyler’s hand off his forehead. “Get off,” he ordered, trying to sit up and failing.
Tyler looked down at him and asked, “Happy? You want to hiss and claw, wait until you have some balance back first, kitten.” He dropped the towel on Robbie’s face and turned to me. “He’s going to be fine.”
Robbie looked over at me and asked, “You called him?” in the same manner someone would ask if I had kicked their dog or possibly killed it. “Why would you do that?” he yelled at me pretty angrily.
“Because you tipped over and slammed onto the floor pretty hard,” Tyler jumped in. “He wasn’t sure if you were having a heart attack or just doing a pretty fair Judy Garland impersonation.”
I swear the temperature dropped thirty degrees when Robbie said “Get out!” to Tyler.
Tyler shook his head and rolled his eyes at me. “Told you so. Make sure he eats something, and call him a cab when he’s ready to go home.” Tyler looked at Robbie momentarily. “He’s nowhere near as fine as he is going to try to convince you once I’m gone.”
“Get the fuck out!” Robbie roared.
“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “Let me know if he lives, Kyle.”
As soon as the front doorbell rang and I heard the sound of the door clicking shut, I began confessing. “You just fell over, and I didn’t know any adults to call because you don’t know anyone, so I called him instead of 911 because if they took you to the hospital you’d just bitch that I was overreacting, so before you bite my head off, that is why I called him.”
Robbie just closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to regain his composure. “I am not mad at you, Kyle. Just go home and we’ll talk about it later.” He honestly sounded like a serial killer, he was so calm.
“He was worried about you too,” I added, trying to help Tyler the best I could. He did do me a solid.
Now all the anger was there in Robbie’s voice. He pointed at the door. “Go home, Kyle. Now.”
I bit my tongue as I wondered if I should push the moment. “Can I at least call you a cab?”
Robbie answered way too quickly. “I don’t need one.”
“Says the guy who can’t stand up,” I muttered under my breath. “I am going to call you a cab, and you can tell the guy to go away if you want.” I reached for my phone and then remembered I had given it back to Brad. Suddenly I was sad all over again.
Robbie seemed to sense my hesitation and assured me, “I’m fine. I don’t need a cab, and I don’t need any help.”
I would have almost believed him if his eyes weren’t having so much trouble in their attempts to remain uncrossed. However, I knew we were just wasting time; he was going to argue the point forever if I let him. I grabbed my backpack and growled, “Fine, but if you die, it’s not my fault. I am going to flip the sign and lock the door.”
I walked out. From the payphone half a block from the store, I called Robbie a cab. I didn’t care if he got mad or not.
The next day Robbie told me all about Riley and what Tyler had done.
I was stunned.
I felt like I’d found out someone you thought you knew through and through was actually a superhero and had a whole other superhero identity. No, that’s not right. It’s like thinking the person you knew was real and finding out that person was really a supervillain in hiding. I didn’t say anything in front of Robbie since it looked like it had taken a lot out of him to tell me the whole story. Instead I ate lunch with him and left, faking a smile and a wave.
And headed straight for Tyler’s shop.
He was closing up when I threw the door open. His boyfriend was behind the counter, and they were laughing about something. The laughter stopped as if it had been lopped off when I barreled in. Concerned, Tyler looked over at me and began to say something, but I didn’t give him a chance.
“No wonder you didn’t want to come over,” I said, feeling pissed and betrayed all at the same time. “If I had done what you did, I wouldn’t have dared walk into that shop. Hell, I wouldn’t stay in the same town if I was you.”
Tyler’s face fell, and his entire posture changed. His shoulders slumped a little, and it just looked like someone had hit him in the gut. “Be glad you aren’t me, then.”
“I am,” I declared, getting even madder. “I’m damn glad I’m not you, because I would not know how to live with myself. So is this what you’re teaching Brad? To be some closet jock who cuts bait and runs at the first sign of danger? Or does he even know what you did?”
Matt stood and stepped out from behind the counter; clearly, he was pissed too. “Hey, you little snot, back off! You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Suddenly all the rage and emotion I had been stifling over the breakup came busting out as I screamed back at the man. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m talking about someone watching another person die. Leaving that person behind, even though he was a friend. Leaving someone else to clean things up. And why? Because he was too chickenshit to take the risk that people would figure out he was gay.” I glared at Tyler. “Was it that important? You happy with your choice?”
“Of course I’m not,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I think you should get out,” the boyfriend ordered, standing between Tyler and me.
“You know, if Brad is supposed to grow up like you, I’m glad I broke up with him!” I screamed as this huge guy took a step in my direction. He wasn’t going to actually throw me out, but he could crowd me out of the shop one step at a time.
“Stop talking,” Matt said once I backed out the door. I began to open my mouth, but he cut me off quickly once we were outside. “Things are incredibly easy to see when you’re a teenager because you think you know everything. But trust me, kid, if you think he hasn’t spent every day regretting what he did or didn’t do, then you are as stupid as you’re acting. When you get to be our age, pray that there isn’t some punk there to rub it in. Because you’re going to struggle with the same thing I am right now.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, not really caring about the answer.
“Wondering if popping you in the mouth is worth a couple of nights in jail.” His hands clenched into fists, and I could see the real anger in his face. “Do not come back here just to make him feel like shit again. You got it?”
I wanted to argue, but he really did look outraged. So I just nodded.
“Smart boy,” he stated before slamming the door shut and locking it.
Fuck him and Tyler. And Brad too for that matter. The three of them deserved each other!
At least I tried to convince myself that as I walked home.
The next day was Monday, which meant the first meeting. I didn’t remember falling asleep, I was so nervous. That meant, as far as my mind was concerned, I hadn’t slept at all. I ate something and headed to school, the sense of dread growing in my stomach with each step. The closer I got to school, the more I felt like the old me: the me who wanted to be invisible and forgotten, the me who had done his level best to be ignored, and who’d felt that standing up in the middle of a group of people and talking was the worst thing in the world.
It was an odd sensation as I mentally regressed more and more until I was literally standing on the edge of the school parking lot, afraid to cross that line, like a vampire who hadn’t been invited in. I thought about running home and feigning illness until people just assumed I had died. I’d almost turned around when I realized that people were counting on me. No one had pushed me into anything. The idea to form the damn club was all mine. No matter what I did, the obligation to see the alliance through was all mine.
I realized part of the reason why adults looked miserable most of the time.
My mind would not engage during my first classes. I was too busy preparing myself for everything that could happen during the half-hour meeting ahead of me. Of course, my own imagination took over, spinning different scenarios from dumb to just ridiculous as my paranoia bloomed. I was pretty sure aliens wouldn’t invade during the meeting, but if they did, I had an evacuation plan, just in case. When I walked out of second period to go set up for the meeting, I felt like throwing up.
Mrs. Axeworthy was already waiting for me in the library when I walked in. “Well, good morning, Kyle,” she said brightly. “You ready to make history?” she asked, an almost too-pleasant look on her face.
“Only if by ‘being ready’ you mean ralphing all over the room,” I muttered, setting my backpack down on one of the chairs.
“Oh no,” she said, making me stop. She pulled the chair out at the head of the table. “This is where you sit.”
I honestly felt bile rising in the back of my throat.
“But that’s where you sit,” I protested weakly.
She shook her head and gestured to the desk behind her. “I am the faculty advisor. I am here just to keep order, but this meeting is yours. You lead it.”
Why, oh why, hadn’t I run home when I had the chance?
I plopped my pack down next to the chair but refused to sit. It looked sinister to me somehow, even though it was identical to the other chairs in every way. Something about it was hungry. I knew I was imagining everything, but I was still terrified of the chair and the sitting down and the leading a meeting.
She put a hand on one of my shoulders and squeezed. “You’ll do great. I know it.”
That made one of us.
Lunch period started, and Mrs. Axeworthy opened the door, indicating the meeting had started. Jennifer was standing there waiting. Her smile made me feel a tiny bit better. She walked in, grabbed a seat, and whispered, “This is so exciting.”