CHAPTER 43

Josh

Expected. That’s what we’ve become and it’s scarier than anything else.

We’re in the courtyard at lunch every day. We don’t touch each other or laugh, and of course, we don’t talk, but we’re together. No one bothers us. Other than an occasional visit from Clay, the force field stays intact.

I’m trying to finish reading the story Ms. McAllister assigned, because there’s a quiz fifth hour today and I haven’t gotten through it yet. She leans over to see what I’m reading and tilts her head just enough so that it just barely grazes my shoulder and even the slightest contact from her makes me feel home. It’s instinctual. I turn toward her and kiss her hair before I realize what I’ve done in a courtyard full of people. For us, it’s a version of PDA on par with ripping each other’s clothes off and performing a live sex show right here.

I wait for the world to implode, or at least for the looks and comments to start, but there’s nothing. No distinguishable change in the atmosphere at all. And I wonder if the impossible has happened. That this, us, she and I, we have become normal. As soon as the word enters my mind, I know it’s the wrong one. We haven’t become normal, we’ve become expected. And not just by everyone at school. I’ve come to expect us, too. I expect her. I expect her here. I expect her at home. I expect her in my life.

And it’s terrifying.

CHAPTER 44

Nastya

“I like to talk, so I’m just going to imagine our conversation here,” Clay says while he’s drawing me on his back porch after school. I smile and he yells at me to put my face back, which isn’t easy, because Clay yelling at me is even funnier.

“Normally you’d hit all the gay questions first because that’s what people like to do,” he says while he draws, and I don’t know how he can concentrate on both things at once. I’m a one thing at a time type of person which is why I have so much trouble keeping my mouth shut. Silence takes a serious amount of discipline. Because when you can talk but you just don’t, part of your mind is constantly occupied with concentrating on making sure you don’t open your mouth. Some days I wonder if it would be easier if I physically couldn’t speak because then I wouldn’t have to think about it all the time.

“First question is always the classic Did you always know you were gay? That’s a good one,” he says, looking at me without really looking. “Answer? I don’t know. I don’t really think so, because I didn’t really know what gay was ‘til I was like ten. So I’m not sure. When I knew, I knew and I didn’t really try to figure it out but people always ask that one.”

He picks up a gray squishy eraser thing and rubs it against the paper.

“Next one is usually Have you ever been with a girl, and if you haven’t, then how can you be sure you’re gay? Answer? Not telling. None of your business. Next.” He puts the eraser down and looks at the picture like he’s not happy with something.

“Then there’s the one I don’t mind answering. Were your parents pissed?” The eraser is back again. “Not really. I don’t think they were pissed. They didn’t tell me if they were. Disappointed? Maybe. But if so, they didn’t outright say that either. I got the It may not be the path we would have chosen for you, but we just want you to be happy speech. It’s a classic. I think it’s on a website or something so parents can just print it off and read it, because both of them said the exact same thing, like they coordinated it or something. They haven’t been together since I was two, so I had to do the coming out thing twice with them. I think Janice, my dad’s wife, was a little freaked out, but I didn’t care what she thought so much. And she’s been cool since.” Damn, this boy can talk. I don’t think he took a breath once. I wonder if I should be embarrassed that I wanted to ask him every one of those questions, and if I talked, I probably would have by now.

Clay is looking happier with the picture now. His face is relaxed. When he’s frustrated, his face tenses and he twists the bottom of his shirt around. I spend a lot of time staring at him, too. Not much else to do.

“But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What first? I bet your classic is why don’t you talk? I’m right aren’t I? But I’m going to skip that one. I think there are far more interesting questions to ask.”

He asks his questions. Lots of them. But he doesn’t get any answers from me so he comes up with his own. He takes pleasure in telling me how the world is coming to an end because Josh Bennett lets me sit with him at lunch and has been seen not only having unsolicited conversations with people but also, gasp, smiling. And that thought makes me smile, which Clay seems to appreciate.

According to Clay, the prevailing explanation for my foray into the Josh Bennett Dead Zone is that I must already be dead. That one amuses me because they think it’s funny, but I think it’s kind of true. Other people are sure I’m in a cult and I’m brainwashing him. That theory is my favorite. I’ll have to let Josh know.

“At least you shouldn’t have to worry about that shitdick Ethan after today,” Clay continues.

I look at him, confused.

“You didn’t hear about that?” His eyes are wide but I don’t know why, because he knows no one really speaks to me. “This afternoon, Ethan was walking down the hall and bragging about you blowing him in the bathroom.”

I shrug. This isn’t anything new. Ethan spews this crap all the time, especially since he’s figured out that I don’t dispute it. The only three people I care about know it’s not true, and I have a feeling that everyone who knows Ethan, knows it’s not true also. Clay must see my lack of shock and it makes him almost giddy at the fact that he gets to tell me the rest of this story.

“Yeah, ok, not a big deal, right? But this time he did it with Josh walking behind him. It was awesome. Michelle and I had a front row seat. Josh nailed Ethan to the wall and Ethan’s like ‘You don’t scare me, Bennett.’ and Josh is like ‘Good. Then you won’t run the next time you see me coming, because if you ever say her name again, I’ll make it possible for you to suck your own dick.’ The best part was that Josh never even raised his voice. Just flat, scary freaking calm. Then he let Ethan go and walked away like nothing happened.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “See? Awesome.”

I don’t really think it’s so awesome. I know how much Josh hates to call attention to himself and I wish he didn’t think he had to do it for me.

Clay finishes the drawing, and when he starts cleaning up, I go grab my stuff. At this point, I’ve paid my debt for his door-holding ten times over. I figure he owes me something now. When he’s done, I pull the photograph I’ve been holding for days out of my backpack and hand it to him. Then I grab a sheet of paper and a pen and ask for what I want.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 496