Well. A quick warning: don't read this if you're not allowed to. This is going to be about same sex relationships, so if you find that at all offensive, you'll probably be better off reading something else. Another note - I haven't yet decided how much sex there will be, but you definitely shouldn't expect anything for a while. And of course the author maintains all rights to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission.
Otherwise I'll be very happy to receive any feedback that you may have. You can contact me at: Redcurrantish@yahoo.com
Enjoy!!
I decided I wasn't going to argue much once my parents finally decided to plop me down and tell me we were moving to Illinois. I had heard my dad speaking on the phone about it and had been overjoyed ever since. Don't get me wrong: I loved New England and its Indian summers. I loved the old pastel colored Victorian houses that littered my neighborhood. I loved the fieldtrips to Salem every fall. And the trips to Boston every spring. But since a certain incident in Biology a week ago I was all too eager to move as far away as I could.
I had fallen in love with Michael Fitzgerald. At least that's what everyone said. And really I did truly admire him. He was smart and funny and had the most beautiful hazel eyes in the world. Seriously admiring him was the normal thing, wasn't it? I was just curious, wasn't I? I wanted to hug him when he had a bad day. And I wanted to hug him when he was happy and excited. When he discovered the giant candy cane that his Secret Santa had hid in his binder, everyone thought that I had left it there. Because my smile had been even bigger than his had been. Which was fine. That had been Christmas and we were supposed to show the holiday spirit. (Yes I did go to a Catholic school. Like most everyone else in my town.) But when I started giving him all of my red jelly beans at Easter, just because I had once overheard him mention to Sean Doherty that those were his favorite, people began to get a bit suspicious. I suppose that it hadn't helped that I had insisted on marching behind him during the St. Patrick's Day Parade earlier that year.
Last week in third period biology Christina Sullivan had whispered to her best friend Meg that I had fallen for her boyfriend and that was that. My life was over. It hadn't helped that Meg had been a bit taken aback. At first I had been a bit glad that Meg had chosen to defend my honor. (I probably won't think about it that way if I ever end up with a male s.o. But hey, I'm fifteen and timid and self-centered enough to care about what other people are saying about me. I know. Horrible.) Anyway Meg pointed out that I'm shy. She did the whole - don't be quick to judge thing.
In all honesty I think she just said it because I suppose I look masculine enough. I was one of the first boys in my class whose voice changed and if I haven't quite reached the six foot mark, I'm sure that will happen any day now.
But no then Christina had to mention every little look I had ever given Michael. At least that's what it felt like. I have no idea how she kept track of everything. Pretty soon the two girls began speaking in their normal voices. Not quite school policy, but having gay students wasn't quite school policy either. Even if it wasn't mentioned in the school handbook.
Well my point is that Mrs. G (some horribly long complicated name that we keep on messing up, so she lets us call us that) is more or less incompetent. A bit sloppy. And a great deal too scared of her students. Christina and Meg aren't exactly intimidating, but there's no way that they would ever listen to Mrs. G, because nobody listens to her. Anyway there they were in the middle of lab, calmly discussing my sexuality over a pair of slit open worms Both girls are into arguing: they're on the debate team.
At first the people around me seemed to ignore it. But those girls are really entertaining and after a while even I couldn't blame the others for wanting to hang on to their every word. People began sneaking peeks at my face, no doubt wondering how I was taking it. It didn't help that my face kept on getting redder and redder. (I told you I'm shy!) My hands started to sweat and I began to absentmindedly play with my tie. Soon everyone had something to say about me.
"Look at him," I heard the whispers say. "Doesn't he look gay? How come we never realized it?"
"He's so nervous... What a mess. And he's not sticking p for himself. I guess he really is then."
"Wait - what is he doing now? Is he trying to strangle himself with that tie?"
I let go of the tie instantly, trying to ignore the eruption of giggles around me.
"Nah... he's just scared. Guess he fell hard for that Mike kid."
It's Michael, I wanted to scream at him. Like the archangel! Can't you see he hates that nickname?
"Wonder if he even knew he was gay? My cousin didn't figure out he was gay until he was in his twenties."
But I'm not - that way. I can't be. I just wanted a friend. I thought Michael could be one... And how could I be outed now? Wasn't that only supposed to happen after somebody walked in on you making out with the school hunk? I hadn't even been kissed yet! I tensed at the thought of kissing Michael. Of him hugging me, holding me. Of - oh, no. I don't want to go there. This is just a stage. I wasn't even gay. Just because all the girls my year happened to be really unpleasant. It was a curse. On the entire junior class."
"Wouldn't want to be in Mike's shoes though... "
"Poor kid's clearly obsessed with him."
"Wouldn't want some crazy kid following me around".
Even now the memory made me want to hurl. It wasn't that they were outright cruel. And I knew I didn't need to worry about ever being outright attacked by any of them. This was after all the state that had agreed on allowing gay marriage two years ago. I was certain that at least on a hypothetical level most of the students accepted gays. I knew I was lucky.
But that didn't mean that anyone at St. Matthew's was out. I was a curiosity. And I felt abandoned by everyone in the class when they calmly analyzed me right in front of me. I had known some of them since kindergarten. And even the teacher wouldn't put an end to the discussion.
Were they right? Was I gay?
It's silly but I had never asked myself that question before. I knew I liked Michael - a lot. But I always assumed that I would end up with a girl. That I would start liking girls. And that the reason that I didn't like them that way now was because I rarely spoke to them. I was too shy to speak to most of the guys in my class - how was I ever supposed to speak to a girl?
And it's not that I didn't get crushes on girls from time to time. I did. Which was part of the reason that I had been happy when Meg had seemed to stick up for me before. (She had been one of the crushes) I could definitely tell if a girl was hot.
But I had to admit to myself that try as I might, somehow those crushes on girls had never lasted more than a day or two. A week tops. As for Michael...
I started to feel all warm inside in spite of myself when I thought about him. I knew that he didn't - couldn't - like me the way I wanted him to. All the same I was actually sort of happy that he knew. There was no way he didn't know by now. I had caught him looking confusedly at me the other day, before scurrying quickly away. How could he have had really no idea before?
I heard my mother call me. I went downstairs finding my parents sitting around the coffee table. I smiled as I sat down on the sofa. I knew them so well. I guess we really were moving.
"Look, guys," I said. "I know what this is about. Dad got the job in Illinois. We're moving, right?" My dad started to say something, but I continued. "I overheard you talking about it. It's fine. Really it is. I mean come on, Illinois. That's where Chicago is, right? Where Ferris Bueller spent his day off. .It will be fun. I'm excited."
Ok, so maybe I don't know too much about the place. But I was eager to leave home. I'm almost sixteen. I don't want to spend the prime of my teenage years living down what was obviously a misunderstanding. Maybe I did sort of like Michael. But there was no way I was about to call myself gay.
After all I had simply understood the importance of sharing red jelly beans. And as for the parade - I mean it was natural to want to stand behind one of the people whom I wanted to be friends with, wasn't it? Obvious, in fact. And if my eyes happened to fall in front of me from time to time - what of it? I just wanted something to compare myself to. You know, for when I really started working out. In fact you could call it something to aspire to. And if my gaze happened to fall -- there -- a bit more often than normal..., well it was just because I had to have something to look at. I mean it was a full four hour parade. And he was right in front of me. Honestly.
My parents exchanged glances. What was this about?
My dad coughed. "I'm happy to hear that you are willing to move Kevin. That makes what I want to say next easier." He paused. "We've been looking at your grades Kevin."
Oh, no, not one of those conversations...
"But my grades are fine. Or at least they've stayed the same."
"I know honey," my mom said quickly. "We're proud of you. And it's important not to stress out about school too much. This is your life after all. You should enjoy it."
My mom the hedonist.
My dad glared at her.
"The fact remains though..." he said. He seemed to gather courage. "Your grades aren't extraordinary. They are good - you'll get honors, but... You see it's very difficult to get into a good college these days. There's a lot of competition from excellent candidates. And some - actually most -- are a lot more well rounded than you are. I mean what else do you have to do but study? You don't do anything!"
I could hear the exasperation in his voice. This wasn't the first time he had tried to discuss this. My dad was your typical type A personality. He was a great dad. I wasn't complaining. But he liked doing social things. It was good for his job. He played lots of golf and he was a true believer in the merits of networking. He got lots of good business contacts, I think because people honestly liked him.
But I wasn't remotely like him. I barely had acquaintances. I ate my lunch in the library. I think I was scared of the crowd in the cafeteria. And the seating hierarchy. And the fact that if I went in there I would have to acknowledge that I wasn't very popular. It's easier to live inside your head sometimes.
"You were always so sociable when you were little," said my mom, pulling nervously at her necklace. She was into long necklaces. "We just want the best for you. We don't want to judge you."
Wait. What was this about judging me?
Did they know? They couldn't have heard about the whole Michael fiasco, could they have? And I'm not -- that way -- anyway. Just a bad rumor. Good thing we were moving to Illinois though.
I felt my mother watching me.
"Is there something you want to tell us Kevin?"
Slowly I shook my head.
"I just don't understand it," my dad said. He sounded frustrated.
"We're just different," I said, trying to explain. "We're just different people. I'm quiet and your not."
"Maybe," he said. He was still upset. "Even if you are happy," he said skeptically, "you still have to worry about getting into college. And all the same your mother and I feel that you need to develop other interests. We don't want you in your room all day. The more time you spend in there, the more difficult it will be for you, when you finally decide to open up a bit more."
This wasn't a plan to send me to summer camp, was it? That hadn't worked when I was eight. It certainly wasn't going to work now.
"Your mother and I are worried that it will be difficult for you to switch schools. You just have one year of high school left. We don't want you to be miserable your senior year."
"You don't want me to stay, do you?" I think they probably heard the panic in my voice. St. Matthew's didn't have very many boarders, but it did have a few. I didn't like the idea of staying there. I don't know how the school ever convinced parents that it was elite enough to send their children there, but it had. I suppose the surroundings were pretty enough for some nice pictures in the catalogue.
"No! We love you, you know that," said my mother. "But, we feel that maybe we should see your father's new job as a sign."
I was silent.
"It's a really good opportunity to change something in your life," she said, rushing on. "You haven't done any extracurricular activities in high school. You don't even have a job! Sometimes I regret that we sent you to first grade early."
"Mom, it's not your fault. And I really liked elementary school."
"Then what's wrong?"
I couldn't think of anything to say. They were right. Something had changed when I turned thirteen. Things had just become complicated. I was uncomfortable around the boys in my class now. They spent all their time talking about sports. I liked the occasional run, but I didn't know anything about football. Or basketball. Or baseball. I didn't know how they kept track of all the teams and all the players. It was like a language that I couldn't understand.
At first I had enjoyed sitting by them when they talked about this strange other world. I liked to see how excited their faces grew. Their eyes glistened and their cheeks would grow flushed when they talked about their favorite players. Sometimes they would argue amongst themselves. It was cute. (Not in a gay way of course. I just liked listening to them.) But it was always obvious that I had no idea what they were talking about, no matter how hard I tried to nod at the appropriate spots. And it just became harder whenever they switched to girls... Oh, no. Why was I thinking about that again? I wasn't gay. Why did I always need to tell myself that?
"You remember the Richards, don't you? They have a daughter two years older than you. Laura. We visited them on the Cape once."
I looked up startled. What were they talking about now?
"Anyway... their daughter just got back from Germany. She did a year abroad there. I ran into Laura and her mother at the hairdresser the other day. Laura was raving about her time over there. It just seemed like such an excellent experience. The best thing is, she was asking me if I knew anyone who wanted to go there next year. Normally you have to go to an agency, but it's a bit expensive that way. Anyway Laura already knew some people who wanted a new exchange student. Apparently Americans are in great demand. The whole popular culture thing. And all those care packages after the war. You know honey."
"You want to send me away?"
"Well, don't put it that way!" My mother was upset. "You know we love you."
My dad nodded. "This will be a great opportunity for you. You need to learn how to stand on your own feet."
"And you don't think this is the boot camp version?"
"I think you'll like Europe. Our honeymoon... "
I frowned. I didn't want to hear this.
"Maybe we can pick you up there at the end of the year."
"It's for a whole year?" I couldn't believe it. They were serious about this thing.
"Yes, darling," my mother said impatiently. "What do you think? Is it a yes?"
"Is this what you want?" I asked.
"It will be for the best," my dad said solemnly.
"But it's your choice," my mother said.
I smiled. I would miss them.
I didn't really want to go, but what else would I do? On some level I wondered whether they this was just a super polite way to tell me that they never wanted to see me again. Maybe they had heard the rumors. Maybe they just knew. But I might as well be miserable over there as over here. And if my dad thought this would look good on my college applications, then so be it. .
At any rate I knew that life had been - and would be - changing more quickly than ever before. I hoped I was ready.
"Ok, I'll go."
I hope you enjoyed it. This is my very first story, so I'm curious to know what you thought. You can contact me at: Redcurrantish@yahoo.com