Chapter Three

Wyatt had on his awful “rap” music and was attempting to “sing” along as he drove down the street. I was doing my best to ignore him, but Wyatt is sometimes a little hard to take. Scratch that. Wyatt is normally very hard to take. My brother was acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, and truth be told, he didn’t. It really wasn’t healthy. The guy was graduating in just a few weeks. You’d think he’d be a little more concerned about his future.

But no. Wyatt had chosen to take a gap year and my parents stupidly let him. I knew very well that Wyatt was not going to spend his first year out of school doing something productive, like working or taking classes or learning a trade like cooking or fixing cars. Wyatt was going to spend every day in bed until twelve o’clock, get up to get food, go back to bed, then spend the remainder of the day and most of the night with his current girlfriend Lori Mackenzie, who conveniently didn’t apply to any four year schools and had her sweet little heart set on the community college that you could pretty much walk to from any point in the surrounding areas. Wyatt and Lori really were a match made in heaven. Both had about as much gumption as a rock. High school love really is for saps.

As Wyatt pulled onto our street, I thought about how I really needed to get my license. I had my permit, so I could drive, but I needed to have a licensed driver of at least three years with me in the car, and Wyatt didn’t fulfill that requirement. I had waited until almost a year after everyone else to get my permit, which was why Deacon had his license and a car and I was still catching rides from other people. It was inconvenient. I was reminded of it as Wyatt sang out an off-key lyric from some tune.

By the time Wyatt parked his car, a beat up Chevy that had seen better days, I was flying up the path to the door. I can only take my brother in small dosages. Sometimes I wonder how he’d react if he found out I was gay. Not that I really care. Wyatt and I aren’t exactly close; Mom and Dad just make him “watch out for me” because I’m his younger brother. Watching out for me entailed giving me rides to and from school, and even that wasn’t a guarantee if Wyatt was in the mood to act like a douche bag.

I love my bedroom. I acknowledge this fact every time I set foot in it, because I know how much I’m going to miss it when I go away to college next year. It took me almost all of my teenage years to get it decorated exactly the way I wanted it. The walls are midnight blue with an aquamarine trimming. My door is dark, dark cherry oak. I have three windows on two walls, two on the wall to the left and one on the wall directly ahead when you walk into the room. My bed is next to the single window and my desk is situated between the two other windows. I have a Mac that was a Christmas present from Uncles Bobby and Jonathan last year. I have a collage of my favorite bands and movies around my bed. I also have a walk-in closet where I use up about a third of the space I’m given.

There’s also one small picture in a frame on my desk that’s pretty much buried beneath all my crap on it. I’m surprised it hasn’t been crushed yet. It’s of me and Wyatt when we were ten and eleven respectively, back before Wyatt was a sadistic dick and I realized I was more into guys than girls. It was at Bobby’s house for a picnic when we knew that something was different about Bobby but we couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, since it was so natural for Jonathan to be around as well. Anyway, we’re just wearing our swim trunks and we’re completely covered in ice cream. We somehow got into a fight with our dessert and ended up coated in chocolate and strawberry ice cream with sprinkles. We’re laughing, and Wyatt’s got his arm slung over my shoulder. We look happy. I kind of miss those days, but not really. I don’t think Wyatt’s ever going to grow up, and I had to a long time ago.

I stared at my bean bag chair, a recent addition to my bedroom that I was steadily starting to like more and more. At first I tripped on it every morning when I got up, but I’ve gradually gotten used to its presence. It was a gift from Jen for my birthday at the end of September. It took me months for me to remember that it’s a permanent fixture in my room. Kind of amusing, really. I laugh myself when I think of how many times I nearly died because of that stupid plastic sack of Styrofoam.

I tossed my draw-string back onto my bed and stared at my collage. The majority of the pictures were blown-up pictures from Google Images, since you can’t rip pictures of Matchbox Twenty, Everclear, Sister Hazel, and Oasis from magazines anymore. I can attribute my music taste to Jonathan. When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time at his and Bobby’s. Jonathan has a younger brother, Nathan, and there are quite a few years between them. Jonathan listens to a lot of the music Nathan listens to, which is from the nineties (the decade that influenced Nate the most), and since I spent a lot of time there, naturally I listened to it a lot as well. To date, I’ve seen Matchbox Twenty, Everclear, Sister Hazel, Goo Goo Dolls, and the Gin Blossoms. Oasis still evades me. But don’t worry. I’ll see them one day.

I flopped on my bed and stared at one of my pictures of Oasis. I’m telling you, Liam Gallagher is one crazy bastard. I don’t know why he has that weird sunglasses thing. I know he probably thinks it’s cool, but he looks ridiculous. There’s this one video I found on YouTube of Oasis on Top of the Pops, which is this show in England, and he has those funky sunglasses that are metallic blue. The really big-lensed ones. I watched it because it’s one of the only videos I’ve seen of them playing “Stop Crying Your Heart Out” live, but it’s almost unbearable to watch because Liam doesn’t do the song justice at all in that version. Really, Noel is the superior band member. He writes practically all their songs anyway, and he has a better voice. Maybe that’s why Liam’s such a retard; he knows he could get kicked to the curb at any moment and Oasis would do just as well, if not better, without him. Then again, if he didn’t get kicked out back in the nineties, I guess it’s safe to assume his spot’s safe. But I’ve been wrong before…

I’d like to think that my room will feel the same when I go away to college, but I know that’s not what’s going to happen. I know I’ll go away only to come back and feel like it’s a distant part of me that has no basis in my reality anymore. I don’t like thinking about it because I love being here. Well, here in my room. Hamels not so much; I’m ready to move on.

Thinking about the future makes me wonder what is going to happen to Deacon. I mean, what he’s going to do with himself after we graduate next year. I know he plans on going to college but I have no idea where and for what. I can’t picture him doing any of the social sciences, like Psychology. Please. He’s got enough issues to deal with on his own without commenting on issues of other people. I guess I always just assumed he’d do something like Sports Medicine.

Thinking about the future also makes me wonder what’s going to happen with Deacon and me. I can’t imagine how we’d pull off long-distance make-out sessions. And it’s not like we’ll be in a relationship as long as he says that he’s not gay and that I’m just a fling and that whatever he feels is just something he needs to get out of his system.

I rolled over on my bed and stared at my alarm clock. It clearly read 3:03. I was now officially bored. I pulled my cell phone from my jeans pocket and flipped it open, ready to do something about my boredom.

---

Twenty five minutes later found me and Jen at the local Panera Bread. We were seated at a table for two. She was munching on a bag of chips while I prodded at my sandwich with a fork. I saw her shoot me a strange look as she popped a chip in her mouth. I glanced up at her. “What?”

“You called me, buddy. Why don’t you at least attempt to make conversation or something? What happened today?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing that warrants me to talk about it, anyway.”

“Okay,” Jen said, leaning back in her chair, her bag of chips still at hand. “I’ll tell you about my day. Joey asked me to go to the Prom with him.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Oh?”

“Yup,” Jen said, crunching on another chip. “It was like the scene out of a nineties movie. I felt like I was a mixture of Rachael Leigh Cook and Melissa Joan Hart. Add some Julia Stiles in for flavor.”

“What did you tell him?” I asked. I stopped poking my sandwich and actually picked it up and took a bite.

“I told him I’d have to think about it,” Jen stated. “I mean, come on. Joey?”

“Joey’s our friend.” I used the term “our” there very loosely since I really found Jen to be my only true friend.

“Yeah, I know,” Jen said. “It’s just weird, you know? I know he’s had a crush on me since we were freshmen, but I think it’s high time he move on. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“So tell him that you want to go only as friends.”

“Right.” Jen ate another chip. “Sure. Because that always works.”

“Just a suggestion.”

“And you know I wasn’t planning on going to Prom anyway,” Jen reminded me. “I don’t feel like I need to be there. We were supposed to go the movies. Remember?”

I did remember. I nodded. “But don’t use me as your excuse. If you want to go to the Prom with Joey, then by all means go. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t go.”

“Believe me, you won’t be,” Jen commented playfully. “I’ll probably end up telling him no.”

“Do whatever you want to do,” I told her. “If you want to go, go. If you don’t, then let him down gently.”

“You don’t even really like Joey. What does it matter to you if I hurt his feelings?”

“It doesn’t, really,” I mused. I began pulling at the straw in my cup of iced tea, in and out, in and out, in and out. Jen just stared at me until I finally sighed and went, “Look, I don’t really like him, but that’s beside the point. We have another year of this shit until we’re finally free, and I’d like to go through senior year with as few enemies as possible.”

Jen laughed. “You don’t have any enemies, Ridge.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jen looked like she wanted to comment on that, but she let it go. Instead, she went, “What’s wrong, Ridge?”

I looked at her strangely. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Sure there is,” she said. “You look depressed. You looked depressed all day at school, and you have for the last few days.”

“It’s nothing,” I tried to reassure her.

“Look, whatever it is, you know you can tell me,” she coaxed.

At that moment, Lindsay and Gavin walked into Panera and waved at us, smiling. If I was going to tell Jen, I wasn’t going to do it in here. I smiled and waved back. Jen turned around in her seat to see who I was waving at. When she saw it was Lindsay, her face brightened and she waved enthusiastically. Surprisingly, though, Jen didn’t get up to go say hi. She turned back in her seat and faced me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you’re sure you want to hear it.”

Jen nodded. “Alright, let’s go. No need for anyone to overhear.” Sometimes it feels like Jen can read my mind.

I wrapped up the three quarters of the sandwich I hadn’t eaten and decided to take it home. I’d eat it later. I waited for Jen to throw out her food and our cups of iced tea and we walked out of Panera together, stopping only for a moment to say hi to Lindsay and Gavin.

Back in Jen’s car, Jen didn’t turn it on, even though the windows were up and it was close to ninety degrees out. Instead, we sat immobile in complete silence for a minute before she said, “Okay. There’s no one here but me. What’s going on?”

I sighed. I leaned back in the passenger seat and toyed with the seatbelt strap. Jen waited patiently for me to start talking. She bit at one of her manicured nails subconsciously and looked at me with easy eyes. Finally, I took a deep breath and said, “You know how I’ve never really had a girlfriend?”

Jen nodded. “I think the entire female population of our grade knows that.”

I cracked my knuckles. “Well, I’ve never really wanted one,” I said slowly.

“Okay…” Jen said, allowing me to continue.

“I don’t want a girlfriend,” I stated again.

“Yeah, I got that. What does that have to do with anything?”

I shook my head. “No, Jen.” She looked at me intensely. “I don’t want a girlfriend.”

Jen looked at me blankly for a moment. With her eyes on me, I felt self-conscious. I turned my head away from her and looked out the passenger window. I really didn’t know if telling her that was a good idea or not.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of sitting inside Jen’s roasting car, she spoke. “So. What you’re saying is… You’re gay.”

I nodded.

Jen sat back in her seat and put her hands on the steering wheel. She ran her hands down the black cover. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve been acting so depressed recently. Unless you just realized it. Did you just realize it?”

I shook my head. I was relieved Jen wasn’t freaking out, but now came the fun part: telling her about Deacon. “It’s kind of complicated.”

Jen shot me an exasperated look. “I’m smart. I can follow.”

‘I know, it’s just… It’s kind of a weird situation and since it involves someone else-”

“Did you have sex?” Jen cut me off.

I rolled me eyes. “No, Jen. I didn’t have sex.” I took another deep breath. “I’ve been hooking up with Deacon.”

Jen looked like she was just letting the words roll over her for a few minutes. Then she started laughing. I didn’t know how to take that. She stopped laughing, though, when she saw what I imagine was a nervous look on my face. “Oh, sorry. I just think it’s funny that of all people, you pick Deacon. I mean, I thought you had higher standards than that, Ridge.”

I glared at her. “I don’t think this is a laughing matter.”

“So. You’re gay, and Deacon’s gay-”

“He’s not,” I said. “At least, that’s what he claims. He says we’re just hooking up.”

“Are you just hooking up?”

I shrugged and stared up at the ceiling. “It doesn’t feel like it, but I guess it is.”

“Do you like him? You know, like that.”

“Kind of.”

“But Deacon says he’s not gay.”

“Yeah.”

Jen snorted. “What a little pansy ass. I’m sorry, but making out with a guy doesn’t make you straight.”

“I know that,” I said. “But what difference does it make? If Deacon wants to pretend like he’s straight while still hooking up with me, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Aside from actually stopping. Or accepting who he is,” Jen stated sarcastically. “I don’t like that he’s messing with your feelings like that,” Jen stated.

“He’s not. Not really.”

“He is if you like him. Especially if he knows that you like him.”

“That’s not the worst part. The worst part is him dangling Cassandra in front of me. It’s like he’s taunting me.”

“I was wondering about that,” Jen said. “Actually, when you guys have disappeared together during lunch, do you guys-”

“We go make out in the bathroom. In one of the stalls.”

Jen smirked. “Kinky.”

Suddenly, I felt like some of the weight had been lifted from my chest. I looked at her. “So you’re not mad that I’m… You know.”

Jen reached over and punched me in the arm. “You idiot. Of course not. What kind of friend would I be if I was?”

I shrugged yet again, relieved to no end. “I don’t know, I was just worried that you’d be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“And look, Jen. Can we keep what I told you between us?”

Jen’s expression softened. “Of course. I promise. As long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Jen pulled out her cell phone and looked at the time. “Well, it’s almost five. Do you want to go anywhere else? Or do you want to go home…”

“Anywhere but home,” I told her.

She grinned. “The mall it is, then.” Then she started the ignition.

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Notice: So I updated this over a year ago. With the way I’ve been working on this story, I’m not surprised. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though! I apologize if there are any typos, especially if they’re distracting. Sorry it took so long.