Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Proof ❯ Chapter Ten ( Chapter 10 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter Ten

Knocking once before walking in, Jake spied Gone sitting at his desk, staring down at a pile of homework. It was Saturday evening, and he thought it would be better if he visited Gone in person rather than trying to talk to him on the phone. The day had been long and tedious with various teenage things, and Bart still wouldn't cooperate in participating in a group phone call to Holly. Drake finally had to kick them out to get some peace and quiet. Bart had gone home and, alone, Jake felt that he needed to make amends with Gone.

The Darun house was quiet for once—Mitchell was watching the holoset and Go and the others had made their way to a bar downtown.

“Hey, G. You still mad?” he asked cautiously.

Gone said nothing, not even turning around to acknowledge him. Fiddling his thumbs, Jake ventured over. He then leaned over to look at Gone's profile.

“G? You mad?” he asked again.

Gone continued to ignore him.

With a heavy sigh, Jake sat down at the edge of his bed, hoping Gone wouldn't continue ignoring him. As he sat, he wondered if Gone ever masturbated messily on his sheets. The random thought made him grumble, knowing it was the wrong time to spout a boner.

“Look, me and Chase got to talking about things. We're sorry we did all that. If you wanna be friends with Tweedy, then…like, you can.”

He noticed the sideways glare and cringed.

“I mean…” he trailed off then shrugged, unable to come up with something better than what he'd said. “But I don't want you mad with me. Or Chase.”

Trying for something lighter, he then said, “We called Holly today. Bart wouldn't even talk to her. He's so clueless. He isn't being mean, but…c'mon. Talk to me.”

In the continuing silence, Jake started to fiddle with his braid. He then got up to snoop through the bedside nightstand for some candy, hitting his hip with the corner of the drawer he'd pulled out. He winced and hunched over. In the process he knocked his head against the lampshade, drawing it forward as he pulled back. He tried to catch it, only to end up pushing it hard against the wall, knocking aside the alarm clock. Trying to catch that with his foot, he ended up kicking it into the wall with a loud crash of sound.

Very cautiously, he stepped away from the mess.

“Gone! Talk to me!” he whined, turning to face him and seeing his impatient expression. “Finally!”

“Do you think Tweedy's gay?” Gone asked.

“Well, Chase said—”

“Fuck what Chase said! Or heard! I asked if YOU thought Tweedy is.”

“Well…to be honest…my radar has a few kinks in it. Dad could be gay for all I know.”

Gone looked away, reaching for his notebook and electronic pen. Jake rushed over to recapture his attention, bumping into his chair and pushing away both items from Gone's reach. “Do you?” he asked, knocking books over as he made to prop himself against the desk.

Gone made no move to clean it up. Instead, he stared down at his desk, deep in thought.

“Do you think so?” Jake asked again, leaning over to try and catch his attention.

Gone shrugged. “What if he is?”

“Then this would be the first time in Chase's life that he was right!” Jake declared.

“I felt so lonely and isolated before we…before we got together,” Gone confessed quietly. “It felt like I'd never fit in. What if he's the same…?”

Jake frowned, moving to sit at the desk's edge. He gave some thought to the matter before saying, “Let's say he is. What happens then?”

Gone was silent then, his face pinched with thought. Jake continued to frown at him, wondering if Gone was starting to see Tweedy as more than a friend. He hated feeling this way, insecure with his own standing in Gone's eyes. If Gone had options, would Gone consider leaving him?

“G, what happens?”

“He's different than me,” Gone mumbled, more to himself than to Jake. “He's popular. People like him. He plays sports. If he is, he probably doesn't want to lose all that. But I bet he just wants to know that he isn't alone.”

“But why you?” Jake pressed, miffed that so much thought was being given to the subject.

“People talk shit about me all the time. He probably chose me because of it.”

“Why not Bart?”

Gone managed to chuckle at that. Jake reached down to take advantage, giving him a sloppy kiss. Gone pulled away, wiping his mouth. “Don't. I want to think.”

Jake exhaled angrily, pushing away from the desk. “How long are you going to do that?”

“I'm saying `if',” Gone said crossly. “I'm not saying he is.”

“What made you think that?” Jake then asked, annoyed that the kiss caused his hormones to flare. He wondered if Gone ever felt the same way he did, horny all the time; by smelling things, by touch, by thought. It was driving him crazy.

Gone thought about telling him what had happened, but decided against it. His observations would only make Jake mad, he guessed. But his brow furrowed as he recanted that thought. Jake didn't seem to be jealous over anything Gone did. Which didn't seem fair, because Gone felt jealous a lot. He looked at Jake, wondering if he ever felt the way that he did sometimes.

“What if…well, what if someone, um, was trying to hit…to hit on me?” he asked sheepishly, feeling his face warm with embarrassment.

“Why would they hit on you?” Jake asked in bewilderment. He then cringed at the scowl that crossed Gone's face. “I mean, well, uh, I mean if—”

“Never mind. Go away.”

“C'mon! I didn't mean it that way!”

“I want to think. Go away. I mean it.”

“G—!”

“Jake, I'll tell Go that you were sniffing Susie's panties that one day.”

With a frustrated growl, Jake stomped off toward the door. But before he could leave, he hurried back and kicked Gone's chair. “You are such a bitch sometimes! No one would ever hit on you!”

“Hmph.”

Jake then stomped out from his room. Scowling, Gone crossed his arms tightly over his chest, figuring that perhaps Jake was right. No one would hit on him. With a frustrated sigh, he reached up to rub at his eyes, wondering why he even bothered. Feeling himself falling into self-pity mode, he resettled in his seat and continued to think about the situation.

0o0o0o0

Once his father walked through the front door later that night, Jake was up and out of his easy chair, jumping and hanging from Mr. James' shoulders. His feet dragged along the floor as Mr. James walked from living room to kitchen, easily supporting his son's heavier weight, as if it were nothing.

“What is it now?” Mr. James asked, mind focused entirely on his project. He was having difficulty letting it go, considering his deadline was coming up soon. Having his son hanging on him was only slightly distracting, but it was welcoming—he needed a break.

“I want my powers,” Jake complained, dragging out the words as he took comfort in the solid feel of his father's shoulders, in the scent that he was entirely familiar with. He wouldn't hang all over his father like this in front of his friends—it made him feel like a baby, but there were times when he just needed to have this contact. “I want them right now. That way, things would be different.”

“Come now, we've gone over this,” Mr. James said tiredly. Though he was mildly surprised in that he hadn't heard that particular whine in a while. “You reek.”

“I love my cologne. People says it smells good.”

“They are being polite.”

“Dad, you're so mean!”

“So I was told.”

Jake heaved a sigh and let go to stand on his own, but he followed his father around the kitchen as he rummaged the cupboards for something to make.

“Have you finished your homework?”

“Didn't start. Listen, Dad, about my powers…”

“Argh…”

“Ha, ha, kidding. I see it's a lot of trouble, but it would have been cool to have `em. Cuz it would have made me…cool.”

Mr. James looked at him, withdrawing bread from the drawer. “Are people still picking on you? I heard about the grocery store incident. Why did I have to hear it from Sara?”

“Geez, no. Forget them geezers. Bart made them so scared that they soiled their Depends,” Jake said, waving the incident away. “Mostly people ignore me, y'know? It's not so bad, anymore. I got other things to look at, but…Gone made a new friend.”

“I have heard. He sounds like a nice boy.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Whatever. G thinks he's gay.”

Mr. James made a face, and Jake studied his father closely. “What do you think about gay people, dad?”

“I…don't really know of any.”

“Did you? In high school?”

“Plenty. Your mother surrounded herself with them.”

“Do you hate on `em?”

“No,” Mr. James admitted, searching for sandwich ingredients in the fridge. “Not at all. I am…just uncomfortable with the knowledge that they are…into each other.”

“Why?”

Mr. James couldn't bring himself to say, thinking of his past. “But those in high school, they were fine.”

“Were they, like, flamboyant? Like on the `set?”

“Some. But, others, they were…well, they were normal. Save for they liked…other boys.”

“So you don't like gays.”

“I am…” Mr. James thought carefully about his response, wondering why Jake was so persistent in this line of questioning. “…tolerant. I do not `hate'…I simply lack current experience in how to conduct myself around them. I am not your mother, I wasn't able to connect, to hang, to converse in the way that she had with them.”

“What if that kid is?”

“Then Gone would have to find a way to continue being friends with him without his father freaking out.”

Jake sighed heavily. “What if G was? What if G's gay?”

The question really wasn't that unfamiliar. Mr. James and Drake had found themselves discussing the very possibility a few times before. “He is a good child. Very independent. I have no qualms about it if he were. He would still and always be Gone.”

“If he had a boyfriend…?”

Mr. James blinked, pausing in spreading mayo on his bread. “Well, then I would hope he was happy. And safe.”

“You wouldn't hate `em?”

“Not at all. Why are you so—?”

“Just askin'.”

Mr. James nodded. “You're having trouble with this kid. You are scared that he is homosexual.”

“He's a jock!”

“But Gone is secure.”

“Yeah,” Jake grumbled, watching his father make himself a sandwich. “But…”

“Don't interfere. What happens will happen. It is all part of your life's experience to experience such things.”

“I can't help it! I…I get all crazy thinking something bad will happen if I let it go!”

Mr. James grimaced. He sounded so much like his mother that he could remember vividly his own problems with her interfering with other's lives. “Just let it go.”

“Argh! You and Bart say that! I said I would, but that don't mean I'm cool with it!”

“It'll be fine.”

“But what if something happens?”

“Then it will.”

“I keep thinkin' the worst, though. What if G gets with him?”

“Is that so bad?” Mr. James asked curiously, looking at him.

Jake winced, realizing he was venturing into bad territory. He wasn't ready to tell Mr. James about their relationship just yet. Wasn't ready to tell him that he himself was `half-homo' himself. It felt too weird to blurt it out, and it made him uncomfortable to have people knowing that he was. It was bad enough to be ostracized for being who he was; to be publicly outed would just blow up the situation.

“It'd be weird,” he said hurriedly. “It'd be really weird.”

“Why?”

“It just would. I don't know how to…how to get that.”

Mr. James then shrugged, putting the finishing touches on his sandwich. “He would still be Gone.”

“Yeah! But…I couldn't take knowing he's with someone else.”

“He is with someone?” Mr. James asked in surprise, eyes widening.

“I mean—! Just being with someone! Someone who happens to be a boy!”

“Jake? Is he already with someone?” Mr. James asked, almost terrified at the thought. He could just imagine Go's reaction to the knowledge that his son was gay, and with some boy. Some boy that he apparently approved of his son being with, and that thought in itself was somewhat terrifying. Because it was a new and untried thing, and there was no one among the men that would have appropriate guidance for the teen.

“No—!”

“But you're also saying he is gay. This is where the conversation is leading.”

“I didn't—! I just mean this all as a `what if' thing. Geez, you're twisting my words around!”

“I apologize if I am, but—”

“I'm hungry. Cook.”

“You cook. Quit changing the subject.”

“Gotta shit! Turtle's peeking! C'ya!” Jake then raced off, red-faced and anxious, feeling foolish for everything he was saying.

Mr. James had to wonder what that was all about. He glared at his sandwich, wishing, at times like these, that he had someone to discuss this with.

0o0o0o0

At school on Monday, Tweedy stood at his locker, feeling frustrated and annoyed with the world. And himself. Looking back on Saturday, he felt that he was behaving so obviously. Almost as if he were preparing Gone into trusting him, practically molesting the younger student as Tweedy searched for clues. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, annoyed that Chase Bellows was right, he gathered all his materials for his first class. He turned to wave and give small talk to the girls that came up to talk to him, passing the time by behaving normally.

Anthony strolled up to him, his black eyes displaying a frown. The girls greeted him and then left, talking amongst themselves while the pair watched them walk away. “Hey, Tweedy. `sup?”

“Nothing. Hey, sorry for Saturday.”

“S'okay. It just weirded me out that you were hanging with that guy. I mean, I was already feeling all irritated with Aaron an' all. Just seein' that was just…it just set me off.”

“Yeah,” Tweedy mumbled in response, as Anthony leaned on the lockers next to him. “I just…I was just hanging. That's all.”

“Whatever,” Anthony then said. “Look. If those guys keep hassling you, we're gonna have to do something.”

“I'm not getting into trouble for something like that. I wanna play this year.”

“Just stop hanging with that guy. I mean, people are talking. Tucker's been telling people that you're snagging on him.”

Tweedy felt his skin go clammy, but anger was more forceful than embarrassment. “I'm NOT!”

“I'm just saying! I mean, once you stop hanging out with him, this shit'll stop. Hook up with one of these chicks, man, get `em all off your back. That's how it's going to stop,” Anthony said, gesturing at the girls that walked by, calling out their greetings. “Get with that frosh. She'll tell everyone, and that'll get those fuckers off your back.”

Tweedy frowned, but Anthony's words made sense. “But I'm not interested in her.”

“You don't have to be, bud. Who really, in their right mind, is interested in the girls they hook up with? It's all about the booty, anyway! Who cares if you're not interested! At least, if you do that, everyone will, like, leave you alone when it comes to that fag.”

“Yeah.”

“Just talk her up, get her in bed, and leave it at that. It ain't that hard to do, especially if she's trying to throw herself at you.”

“Yeah.”

Tweedy glanced around the halls, searching for the girl when he realized Gone was heading right toward him. He frankly lost his train of thought, feeling Anthony give a shift of impatience next to him.

“Good morning,” Gone greeted them quietly, shooting Anthony a cautious look. “Can I, um, can I talk to you? Tweedy? It's…I don't think it'd take long.”

“Where's your friends? Why aren't you hanging out with them?” Anthony asked him snidely.

“They're not here yet.” Gone looked back at Tweedy. “Um, if you want, I could—”

Before Tweedy could answer, more of their friends popped up, giving loud hails to one another and going into a weekend rehash that nearly drowned out the voices of the other kids in the hall. Gone shifted aside to avoid being trampled, all the athletically popular boys gathering within the area to talk.

“Lookit this guy!” Anthony then crowed, getting the attention of everyone. “Lookit this guy hittin' on Tweedy, here!”

At the catcalls and whistles, Gone reddened and Tweedy shifted with anger and impatience. He pushed Anthony's shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. You're just as obsessed with shit like Bellows is.”

“Where is Jake?” Jameson asked Gone, reaching out to slug his arm. “He owes me three bucks!”

Without saying anything, Gone dug out a few bills from his back pocket and handed it over—the boy snatched the money and crowed on about the weekend with the fund-raising money he'd raised to party, the small group pushing through the hall to argue over breakfast choices.

“Look, I don't want to talk,” Tweedy then said to Gone. “I'm sick of this shit.”

“But—”

“Use those ears, Dumbo! He's telling you he don't want to talk to you anymore!” Anthony said, reaching out to tug on Gone's ear. “Run along now, princess, go find your crew to hang with.”

Gone gave Tweedy a confused expression before saying, “It's kind of important. Maybe in class—”

“No. No, that's just…Just let it go,” Tweedy muttered, turning to walk off. Anthony laughed, slapping his back as he walked along beside him.

Gone frowned after them, shifting out of the way of a couple of seniors that wanted to get to their lockers. He figured Tweedy would behave in that manner, having been fed up with all the grief that was fed to him by his friends, but he really wanted to reach out to the other. He figured he'd just catch Tweedy in class, where no one would interrupt them.

Tweedy glanced over his shoulder to see if Gone had left, having forgotten his notebook in his locker when he saw the younger student leave the hall. He paused short, Anthony walking ahead with a loud hail to their friends, the cafeteria erupting into the loud rumblings of teenage jocks that were confident in their standing.

He had to wonder why Gone wanted to talk to him. Maybe it was to apologize for his friends' behavior or something, but now Tweedy was really interested into what he had to say. He couldn't just ignore the other guy, not after he was drawn in. Anthony and the others could say all they wanted about the situation, but Tweedy was confident that they'd never been in his shoes. Everyone was in the midst of enjoying their teenage years by hooking up with the opposite sex, by connecting with each other in mutual interests, and Tweedy himself felt unfulfilled, unable to explore his own sexuality. He felt stifled and isolated, condemned to what felt like a lifetime of loneliness and repressed feelings, and now that he knew he wasn't alone, felt that tremulous sensation of wanting to push forward to explore what he now had.

At the same time, he cared what people had to say about him. He'd lived this popularity that came with being a jock, with making friends with all the right people, and to suddenly not have it was going to be a shock to him. He was afraid he wouldn't make it any other way—what if he came out and didn't make any friends, couldn't continue to live the sort of life he had now? The very thought of being treated differently, of being ignored and mistreated was horrifying to Tweedy.

But so was the thought of having the chance to explore his sexuality earlier than he planned and never taking it.

With a frustrated growl, he turned and headed after Anthony, automatically calling out his greetings to those that called out.

0o0o0o0

At lunch, Jake slapped down his lunch tray, Chase crowding into the table beside him. Bart and Gone took up the opposite bench, all of them settling into a sense of comfortable silence as food was prepared.

“You gave Jameson my three bucks?” Jake asked Gone, mashing his potatoes and gravy together, spilling vegetables into the mix.

“Yes.”

“You finish all that candy? I didn't see any of it. I heard he went partying with the profit, anyway,” Chase grumbled. “That big thing that Tyler was talking about. I wish I went.”

“Me too.” Jake sighed, then drank deeply of his milk before crushing the carton and setting that aside. “Holly was asking about you, Bart. You said you'd talk to her today.”

“What are you going to say to her?” Chase cried excitedly, scanning the cafeteria for the heavyset girl. He spied her in the lunch line. “Well, if that's your type, Bartola…I will not hate.”

“I'm not talkin' to anybody,” Bart muttered. “Why do I have to talk to her?”

“You want to hook up with a girl. That's the basis of human sexuality!” Chase said in exasperation, spilling ketchup over his tray. “That's what high school's all about! Hooking up!”

“How many times have you hooked up?” Bart asked him.

“Let's not get jealous over my numbers, but let's say I get around.”

“Liar!” Jake laughed. “You never have the time to hook up! You're always with us!”

“If I wasn't with you guys, I would be!”

“What's stopping you…playa?”

Chase grumbled, reaching out to take Gone's fruit cup, the teen frowning at him. “I haven't found anybody interesting. Is all. I mean, I've been eying that chick over there,” he used his spork to point in the direction of a well-known junior, “but she's all ignoring my advances. Cuz she's all up on Anthony.”

“A real player doesn't get down over being rejected. They move forward!”

“Jake! Speaking of hookups! Who you eying?” Chase asked, slapping on mustard over his burger.

“No one,” Jake said hurriedly, glancing at Gone. Bart gave a snide laugh.

“He's not allowed to look at anyone,” he said.

“I can!”

“Who said you can't?” Chase asked, bewildered.

“Nobody. Just…just leave it at that.”

“No, who's all settin' your rules? J, you been seeing somebody I don't know of?” Chase cried, tossing a handful of lettuce in his direction.

Startled, Jake brushed off the foodstuff and tossed his napkins at him. “Quit throwing stuff at me!”

“Who are you seeing?”

“Nobody!”

“See what you did?” Bart asked Gone, snatching his bread roll. Gone tried to stab him with his plastic knife, but Bart swatted it out of his hand. The utensil hit Chase's lunch tray, the boy startled at its presence. But he used it to stab Jake's mashed potatoes and vegetables, flinging the slop onto the teen. Jake retaliated by grabbing a handful of vegetables from his tray and flinging it back. Bart hurriedly hid behind a tray, Gone grumbling as he ducked behind the guy.

Straightening, Gone brushed off his clothes. “See what I did? Shut up.”

“Tell them how I caught you talking up to the guys before class.”

“How about if you stay out of my business?”

“You talked to Tweedy?” Jake asked Gone, overhearing their words. “Did he act all weird?”

“No,” Gone muttered. “Well, a little. He's done. But…but I just need to talk to him.”

“Why? If he's done with things? If he don't want to talk or hang, let him go. Shit. Make another friend.”

“We agreed on this, brother!” Chase boomed, thumping the table with one hand. “We're allowing Gone to make friends.”

“Like you two are the boss of me!” Gone snapped at them. Bart snatched his unopened milk, Chase taking the untouched pudding. Seeing that his tray was essentially empty, he shoved it aside and snatched Jake's bread roll.

“Well, not, like, literally, but we agreed you could be friends with them. On one condition,” Chase continued. “That they don't treat you like shit. But it don't mean that we're friends with them, cuz I don't associate myself with potential molesters.”

“I just don't like him,” Jake added, shrugging. “I don't. I can't even make myself try.”

“I don't care if you two don't like them. I'm talking to him, and it's not like it's anything else,” Gone snapped.

“Quite yet,” Bart muttered.

“Will you shut up?”

“I think he's a puss,” Jake continued. “He wouldn't even stand his ground that other day. He ain't even manly.”

“He turned and ran!” Chase exclaimed.

“Because you guys were all over him!” Gone cried, and then lowered his voice. “It's not even that. You guys were being jerks. It doesn't mean you're manly if you stand your ground against idiots who don't want to listen. Anybody can do that.”

Bart burped into his hand, setting his empty milk carton aside. “You can't.”

“I don't put myself in those situations!”

“Pussy.”

“BART—!”

“Ha, ha, your face is so red, G,” Chase laughed. He ducked the bread roll that sailed his way.

“He's a puss,” Jake insisted. He glared at the senior that sat way across the cafeteria with his friends, all of them laughing and talking at one table. “He's a puss and I don't respect him. In any way. So why should I be friendly with him?”

“Yeah, give us one good reason why we should be all civil towards him?” Chase challenged, waving his spork around.

Gone glared at both of them. “Would it kill you two to be mature about things?”

“They have made excellent progress over the weekend,” Bart interrupted. “I have seen and heard things that would not have been believable unless it happened before me. I can vouch for their maturity levels.”

“BART! You are so awesome. You are just…man.”

“You can be friends with him, G,” Jake said, finishing off his food. “I just don't want to be involved.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Gone glared at him, feeling upset over the whole situation. If Tweedy made them uncomfortable, then that was that. He just hated being dogged over something that was his own decision to make.

Jake caught the expression, lifting an eyebrow in question. Looking away, Gone picked at his lunch tray, finding nothing appetizing about what remained. He felt Jake kick him under the table and looked up. “Don't be mad at us.”

“I'm not.”

“Don't be, G.”

“I'm not!”

Jake rose to throw his trash away, but Chase managed to hit him at the same moment he stood. Losing his tray, he flopped back down on the bench while what was left of his food hit the table, splattering Gone while Bart quickly flipped his tray up to hide behind.

Jake winced as Gone scowled, mashed potato and gravy remains falling from his long sleeve shirt. “Oops. Sorrah.”

“Whatever. I'm not impressing anybody,” Gone muttered.

“You are just in a pissy mood today, aren't you?” Chase asked him.

“What else is new?” Jake snapped, picking up his tray once more and stomping off. “He's always fucking pissy!”

“Dude, what is his problem? You two've been picking at each other all this fucking time,” Chase exclaimed, looking at Gone.

“Nothing.”

“This Tweedy thing's really getting to him, isn't it? Poor J. Doesn't know how to share,” Chase said, finishing off his milk. Quickly, he gathered his things and rose from the table. “I'll go find him a chick! Hey! J! I heard that Sonya chick from World History has been eyeing your ass! Want me to set you up?”

“That girl hates me! I sneezed on her that one day, and my…well, my boogers got all over her.”

“Ew!”

“Don't get jealous, now,” Bart chided Gone as he rose as well. “With him making new friends.”

“You never have anything nice to say, don't you?”

“It's weird. When I look at you, I just get all negative.”

Gone tried to throw his tray at him, but Bart hopped aside, walking off to follow after the other two. Gone scowled at the messy table, which looked as if an army of teens had left their mess behind. He got up to start cleaning, grumbling over not having had enough to eat.

0o0o0o0

“Well?” Tweedy asked later that day, before Gone even had a chance to settle in his seat. “What is it?”

The younger student was wearing his lunch, Tweedy realized. His usually neat appearance was marred by some sort of stain, and there were bread crumbs in his hair. He'd heard a loud commotion from the table in the back of the cafeteria earlier, Jake and Chase's voices mixing together in a loud bellow, so he figured the other student had been caught in some sort of crossfire.

“I'd rather it be…somewhere private,” Gone said quietly, brushing at his hair. “Um, it's…it's sort of confidential.”

“Well,” Tweedy glanced up at the clock, “let's go to the gym. I've got this extra shirt.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. It'll be cool. I'll just tell Portman you were helping me with something. He'll let it go.”

“Your friends…?”

“They're won't know. Sorry. I know that sounds lame,” Tweedy added, glancing up toward the front, where Tucker and the others sat, already messing with each other and flirting with Leslie.

“It's okay.”

Once they were in the gym, which was empty of any classes, Tweedy headed to his locker, Gone glancing around to make sure that the coast was clear. “So, what is it?”

“First, I know my friends are retarded, and I apologize for what they did,” Gone began, sitting on the single bench between locker rows, feeling his face heat as he gathered up courage to say what he had to say next. “They were really stupid.”

“It's okay. I just think that…well, in order for shit to cool down, maybe we shouldn't, well, maybe we shouldn't hang out?” Tweedy mumbled, dialing the combo to his locker.

Gone shrugged a shoulder, feeling disappointed. But he understood the reasoning why. “I have to ask you something. But…I don't want you to get mad. Or—or take it badly. It's…I don't mean any harm, and…I'm not asking to be, this, like, shit-head.”

“I'm almost afraid to hear this,” Tweedy said with a chuckle, digging out the folded athletic shirt he had in his locker. He'd bought it for his PE class, but it was a size too small for him. He handed it to Gone.

“Um…well…Tweedy, not based on what the other kids were saying, but…but entirely on my own…um, don't get mad, but…are you…are you…harboring any…? Like…are you…?”

“Am I what?” Tweedy asked, shutting the locker and spinning the dial, turning to face him.

Taking another deep breath, Gone asked, “Are you…gay?”

“Why are you asking that?” Tweedy asked in irritation. “Man, you really get influenced by those guys, don't you? Damn!”

“NO! No, I just…Tweedy, I—I don't think there's anything wrong with it. But I…but I understand why you'd want to hide it,” Gone stammered, scrunching up his face as he struggled for the right thing to say.

“I'm NOT! I'm fucking NOT!”

“Okay,” Gone then said hurriedly, clenching onto the shirt tightly, unable to lift his eyes. “Okay, I'm sorry. I just…I just wanted to ask. I…just thought that—”

“Why? Why are you thinking that sorta thing…? You're the one with the hickey from that guy!”

“It wasn't from him!”

Tweedy startled, and then realized that Gone wasn't going to give him shit. But he felt tense and ready to strike, paranoid that someone was listening in on their conversation. He strode away from him to look around, to make sure that the toilet stalls and shower stalls were empty. There was no one in the gym. The PE teacher had taken off for lunch.

Gone changed quickly, using this moment to do so, too shy to allow the other to see his thin body. The shirt was too big, but it'd do—in the chaos of last week's situations, he'd forgotten to bring in a set of PE clothes.

“Then who? Who was it?” Tweedy asked, looking intensely fired up.

Gone swallowed tightly, having thought through this particular question. It was strange how secure he now felt, feeling as if he was going to get an answer. “I…I can't say. But…” he took another deep breath, feeling light-headed. “But it was from…another…from another boy.”

Tweedy startled again, feeling shocked.

“I'm just saying, that, it's okay if you are. It…it feels better once you know that…that you aren't alone,” Gone continued, feeling his face heat. “I…I went through the same thing. I thought I was alone. I couldn't talk to anybody about things.”

“W-Who says I am? Who—I never said anything—!”

“I just wanted you to know that you aren't alone,” Gone said, confidence strengthening his tone. He finally had the courage to look up at the other student, giving him a shy smile. “If you are. If you want, you can…you can talk to me.”

Tweedy stared at him for several moments, then strode out from the room. Gone heard the gym door open and slam shut, the echo of it ringing throughout the area. But after all was said and done, Gone felt better. He pulled at the shirt he was wearing, smelling the guy on it. The stink of his sweat, the smell of his cologne. It made him feel guilty, but he was relieved in not wearing something messy.

Meanwhile, Tweedy strode back to class, mind racing. Finally, Gone had confessed to him, and instead of feeling excited or overjoyed in that he was, he felt frantic and scared. What if Gone told the others? What if he told his friends, his parents? What if people everywhere found out that he was gay, and stopped treating him the same?

Suddenly the gusto he'd felt in wanting to know if Gone were gay was missing entirely. He started berating himself for doing this, for going out of his way to be friendly to a guy he'd never interact with in the first place. He was angry for being obvious, for not being obvious enough, for listening to the hate that spewed from his friends and peers about being homo, for feeling conflicted himself about being homo. He wished he were able to look at girls the same way his guy friends did, and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut in Selene.

He hit one of the lockers he passed, feeling overwhelmed and over-caffeinated, as if he'd drunk down too many energy drinks. Reaching up, he mussed his sandy hair with his shaking hands, wondering if Gone was the type to snitch, thinking about that study date last week. He had to wonder why Gone had to ask him, why Tweedy himself have to react the way he had. He had to wonder what would happen if Gone blab to people, and he realized he had so much anger in him about the situation that he recognized his need to take it out on something. He scared to do something like that, though; violence wasn't part of his nature.

He paced near his classroom, feeling jittery. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he swallowed tightly. He then took a deep breath and walked into class, as if nothing had happened. Even though his heart was thumping madly with tension, that he felt as if everyone now knew his secret, he forced himself to look and act normally. He sat awkwardly in his seat, wishing he could have a seat change.

0o0o0o0

Jake sat down next to Gone in PE. He had forgotten his PE clothes at home, he'd said, and Mr. Bradley had to mark him down for it. But he sat on the bleachers with someone's shirt on him, and watched everyone play rounds of kickball. It was during a break that Jake went to visit with him, seeing that Bart was headed off to the bathroom.

“You still wondering if Tweedy's gay?” he asked Gone quietly.

“No. I…I figured on dropping it,” he muttered in response, unable to look at him.

“I don't see why everyone's making a big deal out of it,” Jake grumbled, folding his arms atop of his knees.

“Why don't you come out to everyone and see how it is?”

“I don't want you to be shitty towards me today, G! Fuck.”

Gone exhaled heavily. “Sorry.”

“I just don't see why you're, like, trying to defend him and shit. It's like, drop it already.”

“You should listen to yourself,” Gone muttered sullenly. “But to clarify, Tweedy hasn't said or done anything wrong to me since this all started.”

Jake gave a frown. But he had to admit that Tweedy hadn't and for that, he gave a reluctant nod. “He's being nice...for now. I just keep thinking that if I wait a little more, he's gonna show his true colors.”

“It doesn't matter. I just…who knew that I could influence so many people? Here I thought everyone just ignored me,” Gone mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

Jake reached out to touch him, his fingers curling over the back of his neck to massage gently, figuring the gesture wasn't too `gay'. “Let's not bitch at each other today. Wanna go to the park after school? Then we could just get away from it. Or make Bart take us somewhere. Just you and me.”

“I'll go with you to the park.”

“Then we'll go and just relax.” Jake eyed him for a few moments, then grinned. “I wish I could kiss you right now. That'd be cool.”

Gone gave him a surprised look. “Even if I'm being shitty, you'd want to do that?”

“If you'd just go with it, you wouldn't be so shitty. You'd be distracted.”

“I would be,” Gone agreed, ducking his head shyly, as if everyone in the gym could hear what they were saying. “I like being with you.”

“I like being with you, too. Except when you're being shitty.”

“I'm…really sorry for my attitude.” Gone looked at him. “But I like being with you. Even above it all, you're always tolerating it.”

“I only do it because I wanna have sex with you.”

Gone laughed, swatting him. “Shut up!”

Jake reached over, touching his chin. “See, I like this a lot more than the other shit. I like to hear you laugh and smile. You don't do it enough.”

Gone started to blush, ducking his head and peering around to make sure that the others weren't paying attention to them. Satisfied that they weren't, he looked back at him, reaching between them to rub on his thigh. “This is why I like you. You've always made me feel good.”

“Then I'm doing something right for once?”

“You always have.”

“I still see this,” Jake said, poking at the hickey he'd left.

“I still see that,” Gone replied, poking at the most visible one on his neck.

“Wait for me afterschool, then, `k?” Climbing down to the gym floor, Jake hurried off, Gone watching him fondly. Watching as he interacted with everyone he came into contact with, Gone admired him for being so extroverted, for being able to say `hi' to people without feeling like he had to. Jake was his entire opposite, and it was because of that he felt so much for him.

He wished that Tweedy would find similar happiness. He just hoped that what had happened in the locker room wouldn't change things between them. He still wanted to be Tweedy's friend, to be a sort of confidant. That way Gone himself wouldn't feel so alone as Jake did whatever, and he would also have someone new to do things with.

As he watched the others gather into new teams, Chase hitting the floor after a failed jumpshot with the kickball, he heard his name hissed from the side. He looked over to see Anthony there, waving at him to come over. Feeling unnerved that the guy wanted to talk to him, Gone looked over to see if Mr. Bradley were watching and found him occupied with resetting the bases on the gym floor. Slowly he rose from his seat and walked down, wondering what Anthony wanted with him.

The senior waved him over once more, gesturing at the locker rooms. Feeling completely anxious by what he was doing, Gone wavered in doing so. Anthony frowned at him, so he picked up his pace.

“Just so you know,” Anthony started, walking with him into the locker rooms. He led him through the area and beyond the showers, where an open door awaited him. Feeling hesitant about the reasoning as to why Anthony wanted to lead him down into the basement, Gone slowed his step, the larger boy turning to look at him. “Tweedy let us know what went down over the weekend. How your boys jumped all over him for just, like, hanging with you. And it's kinda weird that you're wearing the shirt he bought. What are you, like, girlfriends, now? Sharing clothes?”

Gone didn't know what to say to that, feeling his stomach roil as Anthony gestured for him to walk down the stairway. It was dark and dank, and he swallowed hard, looking at him in question. Anthony grabbed his arm and pulled him down with him, stomping down the stairs with his larger stride. Gone tried to pull his arm back, but Anthony held tight, heading for a smaller room nearby. The basement was wide and dark, almost unused save for some props for the drama classes and random items that needed storing. There was a tool bench nearby and a breaker panel, as well as an old chair missing its cushion. As he pulled the door open, the hinges protested. The darkness within revealed old floor mats, volleyball nets and various crates for ball storages.

“Stay away from my boy, fag. This is what happens when you don't listen,” Anthony said, shoving him into the room and slamming the door shut, Gone catching himself before he could hit the floor. In a panic, surrounded by the dark and the damp, mind automatically taking him to the well where Chuyuri tried to kill him, he cried out. “Take this time to think about what you're doing to him! Trying to make him into you.”

“Let me out!”

“Think about things, and I might come back in the morning,” Anthony said with a laugh, propping the chair against the doorknob, hearing Gone pound at it in a panic. “But if I were you, I'd watch out for the ghosts. Heard it was haunted down here.”

“Let me out!”

Anthony laughed again, turning and strolling back up the stairs. He couldn't hear the frantic pounding at the door from where he was. He started to feel bad about what he was doing, but he couldn't stand the thought of Tweedy hanging out with a joke like that and having all his friends making fun of him for it. He shut the door behind him, locking it. He figured he'd give Gone some time to think about what he was doing and be back before school ended. With a firm nod he headed off.