Diamonds: Life According to Maps | Book Two (6 page)

“He’s bringing me over a costume since I forgot one,” Maps said. “But I don’t see why it’s important. I’m only going so I can talk with Lane. I haven’t seen him around school the past few days.”

“He’s probably been sitting at home wondering which came first: the chicken or the egg.”

Maps ignored him. “I hope it’s a cool costume, at least. Like Robocop or Tesla.”

“I hope it’s a Little Bo Peep.”

“Or maybe Superman.”

“Or a butterfly.”

“Or a Mexican wrestler.”

“My costume isn’t really dumb, is it?” Benji asked.

“It’s kind of dumb,” Maps replied, nodding his head.

“Because there’s this girl at the party who I really like. She’s in our Algebra class—not that you’d notice—and has the best smile.”

As Benji rambled about a squirrel or something, Maps stared at Lane’s bedroom window. The curtains were covering the glass and the lights seemed to be off, but he couldn’t help but stare.

He remembered when Lane used to sneak in through his bedroom window and play music, or give him little written notes, or tell him about the baseball game his team just won.

Or when Lane kissed him.

Maps heart and stomach flopped in unison like synchronized swimmers.

That couldn’t have been his only chance to kiss Lane, ever, could it? Because that just wouldn’t be fair. He doubted anyone else like Lane existed anywhere else in the world, let alone someone like Lane who would like him.

He leaned so close to his bedroom window that his nose pressed against the glass. He was in one of his moods again, as his mother would call it. If Benji weren't around, he would fish Lane’s old baseball cap out from under his bed and put it on.

Someone knocked at the door.

Maps turned to see a very smiley Perry standing in the doorway. He was wearing a bright blue bodysuit and more makeup than Maps had seen any of the girls at school wear. His eyes were lined with jewels and blue eyeshadow, and he had blue feathers in his hair. And all over his body. Blue, green, and yellow feathers.

Benji shot up from where he’d been lying on the bed and faced Perry.

“You look like a deranged parrot,” Benji said, gigantic grin on his face.

Perry scowled. “You look like Waldo after a bender.”

Benji’s smile quickly slipped away and was replaced with a leer. Maps stood there contemplating if he’d make a comment about Benji ruffling Perry’s feathers, but thought better of it.

“Are you a peacock?” Maps asked as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Perry immediately forgot about Benji and turned to Maps. “Exactly!”

“More like pea-brain,” Benji said.

“Better than a one-eyed hobo.”

Benji puffed out his unimpressive chest. Perry’s grin was lupine.

“Okay,” Maps said, stepping in between them. “What costume did you bring me?”

“Uh, well,” Perry stammered. He began rummaging through the plastic bag he had hooked over his arm. He pulled something out in a small bag and handed it to Maps. “It’s last minute, so there wasn’t really a lot left to pick from.”

Maps took the bag, opened it, and pulled out a piece of fabric. Benji started laughing hysterically, falling to the floor as he did, and Perry turned the color of the apple from Snow White.

“I am not wearing this,” Maps stated as he held it out in front of his face.

“You have to wear a costume, or you won’t be allowed in.” Perry winched.

“Is this a girl costume?” he asked honestly.

“No!” Perry replied. “But it might be a kid’s costume.”

Beji was on the floor, dying. He was gasping and heaving, tears pouring out of his eyes and running down his face into his bushy beard.

“It’s not that bad,” Perry said.

Maps sighed.

The things he did in the name of gapped teeth.

M
aps
, Benji, and Perry stood across the street from the big house dressed in Halloween decorations. The front lawn was covered in dirt and had graves sticking up in random spots. A leafless tree stood off to the side, and little white ghosts hung from its branches. There were spotlights pointed at the scarecrow on the lawn, and on the mummy sitting on the porch swing. People in costumes stood on the driveway with red, plastic cups in their hands. The music from inside in the house thumped loudly enough to be heard outside from where the three boys stood.

Perry and Benji began crossing the road, but Maps held back, more than a little nervous, not that he’d ever admit it. A group of guys walked between them. One of the guys paused to look at Maps, and then yelled, “Cat!”

The group of boys found this ridiculously hilarious and laughed robustly as they walked to the Halloween house.

Benji turned toward Maps, smile in full bloom. “You just got cat-called.”

Maps glared.

He was, unfortunately, wearing the costume Perry brought him. The black shirt he wore was covered in fake fur, as were the black, furry shorts that went to just above his knees. Attached to the back of the shorts was a long tail that almost touched the ground. And atop his head were a big, black pair of cat ears.

Benji had almost died when Maps came out of the bathroom wearing the small cat outfit. But Perry had said it wasn’t complete. He drew a black nose and whiskers on Maps’ face with a makeup pencil he carried around with him. This brought about another fit of laughter from Benji.

Maps trotted across the street and met up with Perry and Benji. If he had to go out in public in that getup, at least he wasn’t alone.

The party was in full swing when they walked inside. Maps stood inside the front doorway like some doofus in a teen movie looking around, mouth agape, figuring he was on another planet. People in costumes littered the entire space. He had never seen so many people in one small area—not even at school.

There were black, plastic garbage bags covering the walls, and fake cobwebs in every corner of the rooms. In the corner sat a skeleton in a rocking chair, and there was a floor mat at the bottom of the staircase that made ghost noises every time someone stepped on it.

“Oh, man,” Benji said as he stared into the living room, palm over heart. “Jennifer is wearing a nurse costume. I think I might ask her to marry me.”

“Poor girl,” Perry said.

Benji glared at him. “You’re just jealous.”

“Please.” Perry rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like that if she ever gave you the time of day. Which she wouldn’t.”

As Perry and Benji engaged in a lovers’ quarrel, Maps wandered off into the densely packed pit of people. He slinked past a guy and girl standing uncomfortably close as he headed into the living room. They threw Maps a dirty look, but he barely noticed.

“Okay,” Maps said to himself, hands on hips, surveying the area. “Football player, ladybug, nurse, some kind of mutant buffalo, dog, bubble gum machine, another nurse, an actual chair, Zorro, cowboy…”

Maps paused.

He stared at the back of the cowboy. He recognized the set of the shoulders, the almost-awkward tightness of the clothing, and the platinum blond hair.

Lane.

His heart stumbled. Even the sight of the back of Lane’s head made Maps’ heart flutter. How had he ever thought he could simply just get over Lane? How naive he was. Lane wasn’t the type of boy you just forgot about, he was the type of boy whose smile brightened your day, and whose eyes made you think the bluest parts of the ocean weren’t that blue after all.

Gathering up every last ounce of courage he had, Maps walked over to Lane. He touched the folded up map that he’d slid into his fuzzy shorts pocket, hoping that it gave him extra strength. He knew, without a doubt, that if Lane rejected him now, his heart would shatter into a million, unfixable pieces.

“Lane,” Maps said gently. He reached up and touched the back of Lane’s shoulder.

Lane turned around and looked down at him. First, he looked surprised, and then delighted. Eventually, his expression settled on one that Maps had never wanted to see on Lane’s face: sadness.

“Maps,” Lane said softly. His eyes sparkled.

Lane was wearing a plaid, button-up shirt that was at least one size too small. His denim jeans looked like they’d taken a cue from his snug baseball pants, and his brown leather cowboy boots completed the look. And when Maps noticed the cowboy hat in Lane’s hand, he thought that was probably the icing on the cake.

Lane made the best cowboy ever. Not that Maps had an opinion on any other cowboy, but he just knew Lane had to be the best cowboy.

Lane reached out, tentatively, and put his big, warm hand on Maps’ forearm. “Have I messed things up for good?” he asked.

“Have I?” Maps asked in return, unable to look anywhere but into Lane’s eyes. The world around them slipped away, as though it had never been there in the first place. And maybe, to Maps, when Lane was around, it didn’t exist at all. But that was fine because Lane was only looking at him, and Lane’s hand was on Maps’ arm, so the rest of the world didn’t seem like such a big deal.

Just then, Benji slid over, looked between Maps and Lane and started singing with his hand up in the air and his eyes closed. “You’re the sunshine after the rain. You’re the cure against my fear and my pain. ‘Cuz I’m losing my mind, when you’re not around. It’s all…”

Something hit Benji across the head, forcing him to take a step back.

“Hey!” Benji shouted.

Perry looked at him with fire in his eyes. “Can’t you see they’re having a moment?”

“Duh,” Benji replied.

Lane looked from Benji, to Perry, to Maps. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”

Perry looked over Lane’s shoulder and pointed at someone. “Hey, that’s the guy who cat-called Maps.”

They all looked at the guy who stared at Lane with big eyes.

Lane puffed out his chest. Maps thought Benji should take a note of the intimidating way Lane could pull it off but Benji obviously could not. The fabric of Lane’s shirt strained. “You cat-calling my boyfriend, Trevor?”

Boyfriend?

Maps? Was Maps Lane’s...boyfriend?

“Uh,” Trevor replied, true terror written all over his face. Trevor was dressed up as Superman. At that moment, he did not look all that super.

“Well,” Perry said, “it was more of a calling him cat, sort of thing.”

“So, cat-calling,” Lane replied, eyes fixed on Superman’s sweating face.

“But he’s a cat,” Benji said, pointing to Maps. “Maps, tell him you’re a cat.”

He didn’t care if Lane unjustly pummelled Superman into the ground with his fists of kryptonite. Lane was his boyfriend, and his boyfriend could do whatever the heck he wanted. He would even help Lane hide the body.

He also didn’t care that Benji made a comment about him having hearts in his eyes.

“I don’t care if he’s a cat, or a lizard, or an ice cream cone,” Lane said, his voice deep. He walked right up to a Super Trevor, glaring down at him, their chests almost touching. “Do not cat-call my boyfriend.”

That word again! The
best
word in the entire English language.

Benji smacked his own forehead with the palm of his hand.

“Dude,” Trevor said, his hands raised as if to shield himself. “I didn’t! I just called him a cat.”

“So you admit it,” Lane said.

“I think your boyfriend is missing the point, Maps,” Perry chimed in.

Maps wrung his hands. He watched Lane, his hero, saving him from this hooligan who dared to call him a cat.

“Apologize,” Lane said to Superman.

Superman turned to Maps. “Uh, sorry dude.”

Maps folded his arms across his chest and stuck his nose up in the air. “Hmph. You should be.”

Lane turned back toward Maps, smile now covering his face. “I like your cat costume.”

“Thanks,” he replied, definitely not shyly and definitely not while his face heated.

“Oh my god,” Benji said, drawing out the sentence like a long note in a song.

Out of the corner of his eye, Maps could see Perry looking at him and Lane. “This is ridiculous.”

Benji nodded. “They’re perfect for each other.”

Perry’s attention was immediately on Superman’s backside as he walked away, defeated.

“I think I should go console Superman and his bruised pride,” Perry said. He turned and winked at Benji before prancing away. “Just call me Lois Lane!”

“Huh?” Lane said, turning to watch Perry. “Why would I call you Lois?”

Benji blinked at all three of them. “I’m the only one who isn’t completely insane.”

“So, can we go somewhere and talk?” Maps asked Lane.

Benji caught sight of the nurse in the short skirt. Without taking his eyes off of her, he said, “Yeah, you kids go talk. I’ll see you at Monday on school.” And then he was off.

Lane took Maps’ hand in his. “Come on.”

When they left out the front door, Maps noticed how loud it was inside. Most of the people who’d been outside had now joined the crowds of dancers and partiers inside the house that was now in full-blown party mode.

The evening sky had taken over. The streetlights were on, beaming brightly from where they lined up one after the other. The kids who’d been out collecting candies earlier in the evening had long since gone back to their houses to fill up on sugar and watch scary movies.

Lane didn’t let go of Maps’ hand as they walked down the street. Maps noticed that Lane kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but whenever he would look back, Lane would look away. It felt odd and strangely new, like they barely knew each other and this was their first, awkward date.

“Maps,” Lane said eventually, his head tilted back as he stared up at the stars. “I don’t know how I let this fall apart. I’m not even really sure what happened. But I do know that if you don’t like me anymore, I understand.”

Maps whipped his head toward Lane. “If I don’t like you anymore? What about if you don’t like me anymore?”

Lane finally turned to look down at Maps. “Why would you think I didn’t like you anymore?”

“You came home from baseball camp and didn’t even come over to say hi to me. And then I saw you that day at Chicken Kingdom with all your friends. If you still like me, why didn’t you come see me? I waited all summer—“ Maps abruptly stopped. He might’ve been waiting all summer for Lane to come home, but admitting it was a different situation all together.

Lane sighed heavily. “This whole situation got so out of control. I wanted to explain everything, but at first you were too angry to talk with me. And then I messed things up again that day after school.” Lane stopped walking and shoved his hands into his impossibly tight jeans. Maps wondered how anything, let alone Lane’s big hands, fit into those pockets. “Some days—most days, lately—I feel so…stupid. I make all the wrong choices, but I don’t even see them coming from a mile away. I look back now and see where I messed up, but at the time, I didn’t even know.”

Maps’ heart twinged. Not metaphorically, either. A real, sharp pain momentarily shot directly into his heart.

“Lane, you are not stupid.”

“I am,” Lane replied immediately. “I am stupid, Maps. I keep messing things up between us and I never know how to fix things. And then I asked my friend Brian and he said to give the situation some time to cool off, but now it feels like that was the wrong thing to do. I can’t seem to get anything right."

Maps moved to stand right in front of Lane. He looked up at Lane’s face, his sad, pea-green eyes, and the frown Lane wore like a battle scar. He reached out and put his hands on Lane’s arms. Even with the fabric of Lane’s shirt between them, he felt the warmth of Lane’s skin.

“You are not stupid, Lane.” Maps had never meant anything more in his life.

Lane smiled sadly. “I know I’m not smart like you, Maps. And it hurts because, so badly, I want to be smart like you. If I was, then maybe you’d want to keep me around a little while longer.”

The unfairness of it was excruciating, as was the hurt in Lane’s voice. If Maps had ever given Lane the impression that he thought Lane wasn’t smart enough for him, he would take a vow of silence for the rest of his life. If he had ever said anything that led Lane to think that about himself, he didn’t deserve to speak.

“We’re just smart in different ways. You’re the one who taught me that Babe Ruth wasn’t some hussy named Ruth who caught your eye. And you taught me how to make macaroni and cheese. And you taught me that football and soccer are really the same thing, but it’s just those weirdo Brits who call soccer football."

“Those aren’t smart things,” Lane said.

Maps put his hands on his furry, cat hips. “Well, they’re things I didn’t know before I met you, but I know them now. Now, I’m the king of macaroni and cheese.”

Slowly, Lane cracked a smile. And it would’ve been impossible for Maps not to smile back.

They reached for each other’s hand at the same time, linking them together. Lane gave Maps’ hand a little tug and they began walking again.

“Come on,” Lane said. “I want to take you somewhere.”

Maps momentarily wanted to ask if it was on a magic carpet ride, but didn’t want to ruin the moment. They walked together down the sidewalk, hands tightly joined, neither of them saying a word.

Lane eventually veered onto the grass and toward a chain-linked fence Maps had seen before.

“The baseball diamond?” Maps asked.

Lane’s smile was brighter than the moon. They walked to home base, where Lane dropped Maps hand.

“Wait here,” Lane said, and then ran off

The lights were off. A blanket of black covered the field without a flicker of light to be seen. The baseball diamond was completely vacant. There were bleachers on the far right side of home base, and a chain-link fence around the back. In the distance, Maps knew there was nothing but green, green grass. And past that was a Burger Queen, but he didn’t want to think about it because it totally ruined the romantic scenery.

Suddenly, the dark field was illuminated with piercing lights. Maps squinted into the brightness, his hand over his eyes. Lane came jogging back from where’d he’d been somewhere near the dugout. He stopped right in front of Maps.