The Battle for Jericho (13 page)

I looked at my watch. There were only two minutes left before the end of my lunch period. As she usually did, Lissandra would have stopped by my locker for a quick, midday hello. By now, however, she would have given up waiting at my locker and gone to the lab for biology. She has this fanatical thing about not being late for class. The clock was ticking down for me, as well. I figured I had just enough time to grab a couple of books from my locker.

Exiting the stairwell, I ran down the hall, which was almost deserted. That was a good sign that the seconds were counting down to the official start of the next period. As I rounded the corner, I almost collided with Mac. He was leaning back against one of the lockers, his eyes closed, his backpack dangling by a strap from his left hand, the expression on his face one part goofy and one part bliss. The crazy look on his face undoubtedly had something to do with the fact that Gina Marie Silva was standing next to him, her lips at his right ear, whispering something to him through a smile that would have turned ice to water in two seconds flat. Everything about her was scorching: the mass of curly black hair flowing down her back, the sultry tan face, the dark, flashing eyes, the bodacious boobs that hovered only a half inch away from Mac’s arm, the black skirt that looked as if it had been painted onto the fantastic curves of her hips. Hell, if I stared at her for half a second, my face would be every bit as goofy as Mac’s was. With their fine physiques, Mac and Gina Marie seemed to enhance each other’s attractiveness. Standing there, they looked as if they were posing for a yearbook shot: Mr. and Miss Teen Perfect Body.

Mac sort of jumped when I rounded the corner and stopped a few feet from them. “Hey, Jer,” he said. He looked at me, and his face flashed suddenly with guilt. He turned away from me uneasily, gesturing at the incredible being next to him. “You know Gina Marie?”

“I’ve seen her around.” I waved at her. “Hey.”

Gina Marie leaned away from Mac and looked at me in moves that were as silky as syrup pouring from a bottle. Everything about her screamed
sexy
. “Hi there, Jeremy,” she replied with a smile.

“Uh. Hi.” I kind of noticed that my name didn’t sound quite right when she said it, but I was so mesmerized by the perfect way her lips moved that I didn’t care. It was amazing to me now that I never really paid much attention to her last year. Jeez, what a difference bountiful curves make.

“His name’s Jericho,” Mac corrected her.

Gina Marie made a little laugh that should have been graced with embarrassment but wasn’t. It was still a sweet sound to me. “Oh. Sorry, Jericho.”

“That’s okay. No problem.” She could call me JJ if she wanted.

“Well, I hate to meet and run, but the bell’s gonna ring any second.” Gina Marie flicked another smile at me and turned to Mac. “I have to get to my chorus class. We’re doing songs today from Disney’s version of
Beauty and the Beast.
It’s sort of an audition. That’s gonna be the show we put on this year. I’m hoping to get the part of Belle. Wish me luck.” She kind of dashed her face toward Mac’s in a move that could have ended in a kiss but didn’t, and she flitted around the corner like a butterfly.

“Good luck,” I muttered to the delicate, perfumed breeze she left in her wake.

Mac pulled away from the locker as I turned back to him. “Gotta run,” he said quickly. “See ya later, Jerry.” He took off down the hall, walking fast.

I saw again the nervous guilt in Mac’s eyes just before he made his hasty retreat. As I hurried to my locker, I wondered what was going on with him. He had ditched me before at various times during our friendship, for various reasons, and he had done it without even a bit of regret, so I knew he wasn’t feeling bad for avoiding me today. The self-reproach he was showing was the kind you would get from a guy who had been caught doing the snuggly cuddly with another dude’s girl. But Gina Marie was sure as hell not my girlfriend, nor was she anyone else’s as far as I knew.

So why was Mac feeling so guilty?

A
FTER
the final bell, I went downstairs in a rush and headed toward the gymnasium to find Lissandra. Her last class of the day was PE. I was hoping to catch her before she went to my locker in search of me.

She was almost too fast for me. When I bolted through the double doors of the east entrance, she was there with her backpack on her shoulder, just about to reach for the handle.

Lissandra stepped back with a startled “Oh!” Seeing it was me who had come charging through, she broke into a quirky grin. “Well. Look at Mr. Eager. I hope you’re breaking down doors to get to me.”

“You know it,” I said, grinning back at her. I planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Let’s go to McDonald’s and get that sundae.” I hoped she was still treating. After buying a bag of pretzels out of the snack machine this afternoon, I was down to two bucks.

“Oh, Jerry.” Her face showed regret. She was wearing her favorite jacket, a fluffy, cottony white thing that I was reluctant to touch because I was afraid I’d leave smudges on it. “Today, I can’t. Once my dad picks me up, we’re going home to get Mom and then we’re all going to the airport.”

“You’re leaving town?”

“Yes. The fall regional tournament is tomorrow night in Atlanta. Chester Bailey picked up a stomach virus yesterday and won’t be able to make it.” Her face got a look of delight. She reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders, squeezing them excitedly. “I’m sorry Chester got sick, but Mr. Stein asked me to take his spot. Me! Can you believe it? He asked
me
to go in Chester’s place.”

I couldn’t help but to grin. I was happy for her. This was Lissandra’s second year as a member of the school’s Debate Society. She went all last year hoping to make it to one of the tournaments but was never chosen. Now, finally, she was going. She wanted to make her career in broadcast journalism. She wanted to be one of those reporters who shouted challenging questions at politicians on camera as they raced for their cars or planes trying to escape. She wanted to get in their faces until they answered her. She wanted to moderate presidential debates like her idol, Gwen Ifill, and force the candidates to the mat with logic and fact. “Hey, Lissa, that’s great. I’m so glad you made it.”

“Thanks. When I told Mom and Dad, they scheduled tomorrow off at their jobs so they could go with me. We’re going to make a weekend of it. It’s gonna be fun.” Her smile dimmed a little. She let go of my shoulders and stepped closer to me. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but you don’t have your cell phone with you, and we kept missing each other all day today. You never came to your locker before homeroom or on your lunch period. I hated not seeing you.”

“Yeah, I hated not seeing you too.” I told myself that I shouldn’t be seeing her now, that I should have broken things off with her days ago. But I had really hoped we could hang out for a while this afternoon, to keep me from thinking about Hutch. I was so afraid to think about Hutch. “I wish we could do something together right now.”

“I know. I do too. Are you worried about something?”

I hesitated. “No. Why?”

“You just look a little scared.” She waited a few moments, apparently for me to spill about what was on my mind. When that didn’t happened, she smiled playfully, leaned in, and stroked the side of my face. “Don’t be scared. I’m coming back.” Something caught her attention, and she turned her head, looking toward the street. “Oh, there goes my dad. His car just went by. I better go.”

“Okay.”

She kissed me hard, and then she started away. “I’ll call you tonight when we get to the hotel,” she said, looking at me as she walked backward. “Your folks don’t have you on lockdown tonight, do they? You’ll be able to talk if I call your house?”

“Of course, Lissa. I’m not
always
in trouble.” I waved her off. “Go. Win the debate tournament. Have fun in big, fun Atlanta. Don’t even think about me, stuck in this boring town with nothing to do all weekend. I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” She gave me another big grin, and then she hurried along the side of the school to the front, hooked a left, and disappeared around the corner of the building to find where her father had parked.

I sighed and shoved my hands into my pockets. There were kids everywhere around me, hurrying for home or rushing off to after school activities, but I suddenly felt so alone. I started to walk to the back of the school, cut across the athletic field, and take the long way home. That way I’d be sure to miss Hutch. Instead, I stood where I was for a few seconds, my mind swinging back and forth in indecision. With a determined turn on my heels, I marched off to the front of the building.

Hutch was standing outside the doors of the main entrance, waiting. He kept looking over the groups of kids who passed through the doors. I rushed across the lawn to where he could see me, waving. When he spotted me, he smiled and waved back. He picked up his backpack, hefted it onto his shoulders, and came out to meet me.

“Hey,” he said. The bruise around his eye had faded a lot, and his split lip was better. He brushed the loose strands of hair off his forehead with his hand. “I was waiting for you and Mac to come out. I thought we’d walk home together.”

“Mac’s gonna be hanging around here for a while,” I replied. “He’s got this thing for Gina Marie. You know her?”

“Yeah, the hot Hispanic chick.”

I nodded. “Mac’s got a thing for her,” I said again.

“So do most of the guys at school.”

“Anyway, she’s trying out for some part in the musical the school chorus is putting on with the drama club this year. Mac told me in study hall that she made it through the first round today and got called for another audition after school. He’s hanging around for that.”

Hutch shrugged. “Okay, so are you going home now? Or are you doing something with your girlfriend?”

“No, I’m with you,” I replied without thinking. “Let’s go.”

W
E
WALKED
in silence most of the way. We didn’t look at each other. There were only a few people out in the neighborhoods we passed through. A man and a boy raked leaves in their yard. The mailman drove his truck along the curb, stuffing envelopes and packages into mailboxes. A couple of kids chased each other up and down the street on their bikes. A woman was placing Thanksgiving decorations on her front door. The bright sunshine didn’t do a thing to counteract the chill in the air. I kept my hands stuffed deep in my pockets, shoulders hunched up to my ears, shaking my body with every step in an effort to generate warmth.

“Are you okay?” Hutch asked suddenly.

“It’s just the cold,” I answered. “Feels like winter’s gonna come in early this year. I should have worn a heavier jacket.”

“No, I mean… are you okay about yesterday? The kiss….”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

“It freaked you out, didn’t it? I could tell.” Hutch looked at me and sighed. “I liked it. You know that. And I do still think you’re hot. But if you’re not into this, if you don’t want it, then just say the word and we don’t have to—”

“I liked kissing you,” I interrupted in a rush. An instant later, worried, I looked around to see if there was anyone close enough to hear us. I closed my eyes for a second and then looked at Hutch. “Okay? I liked it. But I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.” But I did know. I just didn’t want to say it. We had reached the intersection of Harvey Lane and Castle Street. Hutch lived about a mile and half from me, down Harvey Lane. This was where he would turn off to go home. We stopped at the corner.

Hutch kept looking at me, waiting for me to finish.

“I’m not supposed to like it,” I said, looking him directly in the eye. “You’re a guy. I’m not supposed to like kissing you.”

“Jerry, that’s what being gay is about.” He still didn’t turn away. There was no judgment or anger in his eyes at what I’d said, just this patient look of understanding. “I went through that too, thinking there was something wrong with me because I get turned on by other guys. After some time, I realized this is just who I am, and there’s nothing wrong about that.”

“No, this isn’t right. I still like Lissandra.”

“I know that. And there’s nothing wrong with that either. And if she’s who you want to be with, then be with her. You and I will just go on being friends.”

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds after that. I shook myself again against the cold. “I guess I should go. My mom and dad won’t be home until later, and I’m supposed to cook dinner today.”

“Okay. See ya tomorrow.”

Hutch waved and headed off down Harvey Lane. He’d barely taken three steps when I said, “Hey, man, do you have to be home right now?”

He stopped and shrugged. “Not really.”

“You wanna come hang out?”

“Sure. Just let me call my mom. She won’t mind as long as she knows I’m with you.”

W
ITH
cans of tuna and English peas and a box of Tuna Helper, I stirred up the main dish in a big skillet while Hutch sliced tomatoes and cucumbers and red bell pepper to toss with the bag of salad greens we found in the fridge. We talked and laughed like always while we worked. When we were done, it was still more than an hour before Mom and Dad were due home, so we decided to go ahead and eat.

Usually when I ate a meal without my parents around, I’d shovel the food into a bowl, sit on my bedroom floor, and watch television while I ate. With Hutch, I actually set the table in the kitchen—placemats, plates, napkins, glasses, silverware, the whole nine yards.

“Let me help,” he offered as I got the table ready for us.

“No, I’ve got this, man,” I said, pulling out a chair for him. “Just sit down.”

I filled bowls with salad for each of us, sprinkled on croutons and shredded cheddar cheese, and placed a bowl in front of Hutch so he could add dressing to his desire. I dished hefty portions of tuna and pasta onto our plates and put slices of bread on the side. I even made lemonade and filled our glasses. It felt good to do things for him.