Chapter Twenty-four

Admonition

Elliot’s POV

I sat across from Ben this afternoon on the back steps of the school after we skipped Algebra 2, listening to him ramble on and on and on about how he wishes C.J. would give him the time of day—I realize it would be like trying to get a glamorous model to smooch a jelly-smeared crazed toddler all over the face, but his delusions were not my problem. All I wanted to do was grab him by the arms and shake him and say “I’m GAY, you silly man. Who cares about your heterosexual anguish???”

Fortunately, I resisted the impulse. It was very difficult. Because Ben is a silly silly person. Always has been.

“Uh huh,” I said, injecting as much “I-DON’T-CARE” attitude into my words as I could. He didn’t catch the hint. Maybe that’s how I always sound to him, because that’s usually how I feel. Makes sense.

“So now I don’t even know if I can stand to be rejected in public. That’s not like me, man. I’ve never had to worry about being rejected. Now I want to ask her out in private.”

“uh HUH. UH huh,” I said, deciding to have fun with my emphases if he wasn’t going to allow me fun with anything else. Like, I don’t know, interesting conversation, laughing at his expense…of course I already am kind of doing the latter mentally. It’s involuntary, I swear. Otherwise I would never laugh at a fellow man in his hour/weeks of never-ending, ceaseless neediness.

There’s no bitterness here.

As my eyes glazed over under the barrage of Ben’s self-pitying acting-like-a-girl-on-a-diet crap (meaning zero sense of humor and constantly needing validation), my mind went back to Joe, and I wondered to myself why it should be him that made me…let’s say confused.

I mean, there was the obvious. He did ravage me. That goes without saying. In fact, it goes without thinking. “He ravaged me” makes me sound like a girl that got attacked by a pirate.

Joe said he had something invested in me. What like a deposit? Was I supposed to keep the spit we swapped for return on a later date?

Eeeeeww.

There was something inherently wrong about remembering making out with a guy when I’m sitting to my very un-gay, clueless best friend talk about wanting some hot chick and acting like we were still in the buddy-buddy “objectify the woman” phase. Whereas I am actually in the “oh my lord I just realized that my best friend actually is attractive and that’s very disturbing for a guy who always grunted noncommittally when girls I tried to set up on double dates with him asked me if he was hot” phase. So, there’s a bit more panic in this phase, a bit more erratic, unlinked thoughts that pretty much I can sum up with “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

Now if only I could press a button and create a soundproof booth to scream in. Why has no one invented that yet? Every teenager would want one, not to mention middle-aged frumps who have already passed their better years and have nothing to show for it. I.e. every one of my teachers.

Geez, I’m getting glum. Not that making noiseless motions of intensely face-warping pain in a glass box would be very manly, but seriously who would I be trying to impress at that point?

“Hey, buddy, you doing alright?” Ben asked.

Well, gee, glad I’m still on the list of things he notices. Right under:

1—C.J.

2—C.J.

and 3—C.J.’s “sky-blue” eyes

and sometimes 4—C.J.’s potentially nun-chuck-wielding brother who looks like he could open up a serious can of whoop-ass on whoever talks about C.J. in such a HIDEOUSLY NONSTOP MANNER.

By the way, that last all in-caps addition is mine, and I make sure to make it when Ben’s becoming particularly unbearable.

“Yeah, I’m great. Peachy. Almost orangey.”

“You actually look a little green,” he said with a smirk. “Let’s get some burgers.”

“Oh? You’re letting me eat? You’re letting me off of my non-self-imposed food embargo, and by non-self-imposed I mean you glare at me like I’ve thrown chicken and dumplings around at a funeral whenever I mention much-needed sustenance? Need I remind you that FOOD IS NOT EVIL and it is not the reason that C.J. won’t give you the time of day? What’s the catch?”

“You have to shut up,” he muttered sullenly, shoving up from his gum-encrusted stoop and stomping off to the parking lot. Rolling my eyes at his petulance, I followed with a slightly more relaxed gait than Mr. Godzilla’s. AKA Mr. I Shall Not Be Denied.

We headed over to Subway, which was mostly full of hobos and old people staring listlessly at light fixtures, all of which we avoided with the dexterity of those long-accustomed to hopping over drunken friends. I recognized the girl behind the counter from one of our big soccer games against Mt. Liet High School, and she evidently recognized me because she immediately blinked wildly at me in what I assumed was supposed to be a coquettish fashion. I found myself wondering how many eyelashes she had just dropped in the food underneath.

“Er,” I said.

“Hey, how are you two doing? Haven’t seen you since that ruckus over at Ridge. Wasn’t your goalie drunk?”

“Er…wheat?” I said reflexively. She pouted because I wasn’t engaging her in pointless reminiscing, and then turned her femme-fatale attraction onto Ben.

“Heeeey,” he said with his trademark grin. My order was forgotten, blown into the windy desert of the annals of her memory. “Jodie?”

“Judy,” she giggled. “I’m so offended.”

“Can’t remember every pretty girl I meet,” he said with a good-guy shrug.

I rolled my eyes heavenward.

“Dude, you know that girl you were talking about? Blond like a banana, iridescent sky-blue eyes, body like a freakin’ playboy model of the month? This ringing a bell?” I demanded to cut short this horrific display of teenage mating habits. Whereas old-Ben would have rounded on me in disgust, new-Ben had the audacity to blush and look embarrassed. And Judy thought it was “like, so adorable.”

What a weirdo. He goes to pieces over blondes. I prefer darker hair myself.

We were just getting ready to leave after eating our food off in a dirty corner to hide from the searchlight eyes of our food-server, when Joe came in the door with a few other guys from the soccer team.

I completely froze. I don’t know why. I hadn’t seen him since last night, but I’d never reacted so visibly to someone else. And then I realized—last night I wasn’t officially gay, at least not to myself (what Addy regards me as is anyone’s guess).

Ben did a lot of back-slapping and indulged in some shenanigans while I stood off to the side a little awkwardly, as did Joe. His hands were in his pockets; he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I think he might have been a little nervous that I’d expose his secret. Last night he told me I was the only guy he’d told, so I figured that implied some trust in me and, well, I’m not the most trustworthy guy.

“Dude, we gonna go?” Ben asked, his face still crinkled from laughing. The other guys got in line.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be right there.”

I don’t know why I stalled. Ben shrugged and went out to his car. I didn’t say anything else to Joe. I just looked at him a moment longer before following Ben.

Being so close to Joe made me feel like some flamboyancy would rub off on me, and I got Ben to drop me off at my house before I lost it and tried to lure him into a tickle fight. That’s what girly people do, right? And that’s when Timmy sank his teeth into me. I think I’m actually starting to develop a night protective scar right there, actually. Pretty soon I will be bionic man, and then NO DEMONIC LITTLE MONKEY-MEN CAN SCATHE ME.

I don’t think Timmy understands my anguish.

And this anguish isn’t just because he’s eating my foot, notwithstanding that is an important consideration with regards to my psyche at this particular moment.

But oh no, that’s not the biggie.

The biggie is whether or not I should blame my gayness on Addy, because right now, that is a reaaaally attractive possibility.

And whether it was reasonable for me to come out to her before I came out to myself.

That was silly.

Little Kong scampered off to climb a tree or stick a banana up his nose, and left me in peace, so I took the time to log on in the vain hope that I might be able to talk to Addy and explain my little hit-and-run from last night. She, of course, remained stubbornly silent on the annoying-door-creaking-logging-on-sound front, and I decided that if she had blocked me I would have to go after her with a chainsaw to soothe my beast of vengeance.

I am a little unbalanced; give me a break. And she made me this way. She and Joe. I can picture them cackling and sneaking and skulking about trying to corrupt my innocent, heterosexual soul with their…liberal…sexual freedom…nonsense. Pretty soon they’ll be showing up like Jehovah’s Witnesses, except they’ll be showering me with pamphlets like “I Think I Might be Gay,” and “Your Shifting Identity” instead of “Music That Pleases God.”

Little Kong leapt onto my head and I had to run around screaming before he finally let go of me, Alien-like, and dropped away. “Alien vs. Little Kong—a Story of Inner Conflict”.

I slumped back onto my bed and whimpered piteously. I had no one to talk to and I’d never felt so alone, even though it was my fault that I had no one to talk to. I hadn’t chosen the kinds of friends that would understand such monumental changes in my life.

CRREEEEEEEAAAAAAAKKK.

What-ho?

I leapt into my computer chair and furiously scrolled down my never-ending list of buddies (most of them under my ‘IM with Caution’ or ‘Block at Slightest Provocation’ headings) until I got to Addy’s. Yay!

Wow, I didn’t know I liked her, and now I’m squealing like a squirrel and doing a squirrel-like dance of victory.

Oh yeah. Of course I’m attractive to both genders.

I so don’t understand sexual chemistry.

04PunchMonkey: sexual chemistry.

Shit. I hate when I write the last thing I’m thinking.

IloveLamp87: is what your lacking with women?

04PunchMonkey: Freaking hilarious. I don’t remember saying anything about your lesbian encounter in front of the school.

IloveLamp87: That’s because I was making out with a guy in under two minutes flat after that little ‘incident.’

04PunchMonkey: A gay guy.

IloveLamp87: Who knows? Maybe bisexual, he’s a mysterious guy. Shouldn’t have to limit himself.

Is she real? Is he bisexual? Why does this annoy me?

04PunchMonkey: I think you’re desperate, but that’s beside the point. I want to talk to you.

IloveLamp87: …I am.

04PunchMonkey: No, I’m flinging typed messages into the ether of cyberspace in the hopes of it reaching your computer and transducting into your brain. I want to TALK to you.

IloveLamp87: …

IloveLamp87: You’re asking me over?

04PunchMonkey: Or…I could go over there, it doesn’t matter.

IloveLamp87: Geez, I’m so glad I keep logs of my IM conversations. It allows me to gloat in a loser-ish ‘I have nothing else to gloat about’ sort of way at some future date.

04PunchMonkey: It’s a great talent to constantly insult someone and yourself at the same time so I can’t get to the punch line before you.

IloveLamp87: You the PunchMonkey. What does that even mean? Dork.

04PunchMonkey: I’m going to use my elite computer-hacker skills to destroy every file in your computer just so you can never be happy and you end your days in a slow spiral into an insanity spurred by your twenty cats and your doily-obsession.

IloveLamp87: ::swallows:: that’s was graphic.

04PunchMonkey: I like people to be able to see what I’m seeing.

IloveLamp87: (senses unspoken words) And feel what your feeeeling, oh you poor dear, I can feel your sadness through the computer. I’ll be right over to let you cry on my shoulder and rock you back and forth.

“IloveLamp87” signed off at 9:12:45 PM

That slamming door has never sounded so ominous. It sounds like the clang of a dungeon door as it releases incredible evil as part of the scheme of some warlord to defeat the hero of our story.

Me being the hero. Addy being the beast from the pits of hell.

Eeek, I can’t let her sign off like that! What will it look like in her logs? Will it smell like blackmail?

I can already feel the malevolence of the force I’ve unleashed in Helpfully-Concerned Addy.

Thank you all for your patience. Thanks to: sweetonspike, Plinky, Pretty Girls Make Graves, Phoenix-ofthe-Goldenrose, j.u.s.t. .f.o.r. .m.e., Caryn Smoke, Lavender L.C., , purplemuffin, Endowment’s Seraph, vessa, Mochi, blacksunrise, Winged Shadow, slightly off-beat, norish, freezen, crazyhelga, TaurusGirl7, Kjersti, Jenneh, theGhostQueendelosP…, Larentia, dotcult, Never-Ending Sarcasm, becaboo14, Salt and Vinegar Pringles, Stellarfrog, hyperactive cookies, Andromida the chained pri, katemary77, eyesofahuntress, bluz, cigarette cliché, Sam, Jigai Tenshi, Shima And Tempis, hi, Izzy, Harmonized, adabelle, Osunale, seasick, muffinlady, Tyra Kaelar, Nacomis, twoworldsapart, Sarcastic-Rogue, Purple-Butterbear, immortal-princess, windborne, Terry S, SkepticCritic