Who Am I?

Chapter 4

On the Sunday afternoon after school got out for the summer, there was a knock on our door. When I opened it, Billy was standing on the porch. I began to close the door again, but he stuck his foot in the way.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Go away. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving until we have this out.”

I stood inside, pushing on the door while he stood outside with his foot in the way. Finally, Mom called, “Hunter, close the door. You’re letting in the hot air.” I wasn’t really, because it wasn’t that hot out, but what she said had become an automatic complaint when she lived in Florida.

Knowing I had no way out, I opened the door, and Billy and I went to my bedroom. We sat on my bed, and at first we said nothing.

Tired of the silence, I asked, “Why don’t you just go away?”

“Because we have to straighten things out. I’m sorry you’re mad at me.”

“I thought we had something going.”

“But I told you I wasn’t queer. I didn’t even know you were.”

Looking down at my lap, I said quietly, “I am, but I don’t like that word.”

“Sorry. Is the word ‘gay’ better?”

I nodded.

“So I’m not gay and you are.”

Again, I nodded.

“But can’t we be friends?”

I thought a long time. To be honest, I wasn’t still angry at him, and I did like him. Slowly, I said, “Maybe.”

Again, we sat in silence. After a short time, he put his arm around my shoulder, and I began to cry as I leaned into his chest.

“How could I be so stupid?” I sobbed.

“You weren’t stupid. You just believed what you wanted to believe instead of really listening to me.”

I nodded and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Friends?” I asked.

“Forever.”

We hugged, but it was a ‘friends hug’ not a ‘sex hug’.

He asked my about how I’d done at school and about my friends. He knew about the kids at my lunch table, but I hadn’t told him much about Tommy. We talked about him and then I asked him how he was doing with Virginia.

Laughing, he told me that the relationship hadn’t lasted very long, and he’d moved on to others since then.

When he left, promising there would be no sex stuff if I visited, he suggested that I bring my bathing suit and go to his home in the afternoon.

I spent the rest of the morning reading. After lunch, I rode my bike to Billy’s house.

He welcomed me and we went into the house to change into our bathing suits. I had thought about wearing my suit to his house, but then I’d have to walk. if you’ve ever tried to ride a bike in a wet bathing suit, you’ll know why I didn’t. I learned from experience. It’s pretty uncomfortable and the suit can even rub your butt sore.

We spent a long time in the pool, sometimes racing and sometimes just playing around. When we’d had enough, we climbed out and sat in the lounge chairs sunning ourselves.

As we talked, I asked him if I could bring Tommy to the pool. “Sure,” he said. “Bring him any time.”

That evening I called Tommy and told him about Billy’s invitation. “Isn’t he the jerk who misled you about having sex?” he asked.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t the jerk. I was. I misled myself.”

Tommy agreed to join me, and about 10 o’clock in the morning he rode up to my house on his bike. I greeted him with a hug, and we rode to Billy’s house, where the two of us went up to Billy’s room to change into our suits.

Tommy had never met Billy, although he had seen him on the football field. At first, he was a little guarded, but as we got playing around in the pool, he quickly joined in and had a good time. Around noon I said I needed to get home for lunch.

“Why don’t you eat here?” Billy asked. “We’ve plenty of sandwich stuff and chips and drinks.” So, I called my mom, and that’s what we did.

Later, on the way back to my house, Tommy said, “I can see why you fell for him. Man, is he built! And besides that, he’s fun and has a good sense of humor.”

At my house, we hugged goodbye and Tommy rode home.

That day became a pattern for me for the summer. I spent nearly every day working on weights and swimming in Billy’s pool. Even when it was raining, we could swim unless there was lightning. Tommy usually joined us, and a couple of times when I had to be somewhere with Mom, he went by himself.

Before I knew it, vacation was over, and it was time to go back to school.

* * * * * * * *

As new eighth graders, Tommy and I were asked to help the seventh graders, the new kids in the building, as they searched for their lockers, fumbled with their locks, and then went to their homerooms. I couldn’t believe how young they seemed and wondered if I’d been that young just a year ago. Of course, I knew the answer, but it just didn’t seem possible. Actually, helping them overcame my usual beginning-of- school jitters.

Tommy and I had English and math together, as well as lunch and PE. That year, PE came at the end of the day, which gave my lunch a little time to settle.

There was a new boy in school. As I did with all boys, I looked him over and wondered if he might be like me. He had a darker complexion than anyone else in the school. I don’t mean he was African American; he wasn’t that dark, but he clearly had some different genes from the rest of us.

He wasn’t in my homeroom, so I didn’t see him until history in the third period. I noticed him as he entered the room, and I watched as he walked to the back and took a seat. He seemed to be about my size, and he had black, wavy hair. He was dressed too formally for our school. He even wore a white, collared shirt and a tie, while most of the rest of the boys were in T-shirts and tan trousers. For some reason I never understood, blue jeans were not permitted.

The teacher asked him his name, and he replied, “Raphael Rivera, ma’am.”

At our lunch table, all the kids were talking about him. Nobody knew where he lived before, but we all agreed that he was likely the first Hispanic in our town. I wondered if he would encounter racism and hoped he wouldn’t. He was apparently quite fluent in English. Kids said that a few times he had asked questions in class, but only to clarify some point.

As it happened, Raphael was in my math class right after lunch. Again, I watched him as he walked to the back and sat. Nobody said anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to anybody else.

We were taking first-year algebra, which I found confusing right from the first day. For one reason, the subject had a different vocabulary with words like ‘unknowns’ and ‘variables.’ I did figure those out, but it was like I had to translate them into my language when they were used. This was the beginning of my awareness that every subject has its own vocabulary. Geography has a very different language from English. Math and music were very different. I was intrigued as well as sometimes confused.

At the end of math we all made our way to the gym. Raphael looked around the locker room and was clearly confused as he watched us changing into our gym clothes. When the coach came through, he looked at Raphael and asked, “Why aren’t you dressing?”

“I don’t understand what I’m supposed to be doing. Should I have brought special clothes with me?”

The coach motioned for Raphael to go with him into the gym. When I went in, they were seated on the bottom row of the bleachers, talking. Well, the coach was talking. Raphael was mostly listening and nodding.

Once all the boys were in the gym, the coach blew his whistle, and we went to the bleachers for the first day obligatory lecture. After that, we did some soccer drills until it was time for us to hit the showers.

In the locker room and showers there was a lot of chatter and laughter until one boy said in a loud voice, “Hey, Wetback, we don’t want any of your kind in our town. Go back where you came from.”

There was dead silence. Raphael looked around and I could see there were tears in his eyes. Then he fled from the locker room and I didn’t see him again until the next day.

After he left the room, the talk began to pick up again, but it was subdued and there were clearly several of us who were shocked. I hadn’t seen who had made the remark, but I felt nearly as upset as Raphael. I rubbed the tears from my eyes, finished dressing, and left the room without another word.

In the hall, Tommy caught up with me. “Can you believe that?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, I can. That’s what’s so sad. Do you know who asked the question?”

“Yeah, it was Mark Anderson.”

“That figures,” I said. “He’s always been a prick.”

Tommy nodded.

“And what’s so sad is that nobody, including me, stood up for Raphael,” I said. “We can’t let that go on.”

In PE the next afternoon, Raphael had his gym clothes and he dressed out just like the rest of us.

When we went into the gym, we were all told to sit on the bleachers, and then we were given a real lecture. It went something like, “I understand that yesterday, someone used a bigoted, unacceptable word in the locker room. Not only is it not allowed, it’s grounds for suspension. If I ever hear of that happening again in one of my classes, the boy who says it will be out of here for the rest of the year. Is that understood?”

We all nodded or said, “Yes, sir.”

“And what bothers me even more is that nobody said a word. Nobody stood up for the boy who was attacked, and yes, he was attacked, perhaps not physically, but verbally. I’m ashamed of the lot of you. There will be no class today. You will all sit there silently, and I mean silently, until I dismiss you.” He pulled up a chair and sat down facing us.

There wasn’t a sound in the gym. Boys were looking down at their laps. I was really upset and ashamed. I supposed someone must have told the coach what had happened, and I was glad that they had. Usually, I don’t believe in telling teachers about what kids have done, but in this case, I thought it was right, and I was unhappy that I hadn’t had the balls to do it.

When it was time, we were told to go into the locker room and change out. There would be no showers because we hadn’t done anything.

As we changed our clothes silently, I heard Mark ask quietly, “Okay. Who squealed?” There was no answer. Whoever had done it wasn’t stupid.

We left the locker room silently. I motioned to Tommy and the two of us walked on either side of Raphael. Nothing was said until we got to Raphael’s locker, when he said very quietly, “Thanks.”

When I got home, I told Mom what had happened. “Do you know who said it?” she asked.

“I know who somebody else said it was, but I didn’t actually see him say it.”

Then she raised a question which I hadn’t thought of. “I wonder where the boy is living. I didn’t know there were any Hispanics in town.” She looked at me and said, “Hunter, you need to give that boy all the support you can.” I agreed. I got a snack and went to my room to do my homework.

* * * * * * * *

When I got to Billy’s house on Saturday, Tommy was already there, as well as an older boy I didn’t know. Billy introduced him to us as Patrick.

“Hey guys,” said Billy as we swam and stood around in the pool, “I have a girl coming over to swim tomorrow.”

We all said, “O-o-o-oh,” and giggled.

“Yeah,” he went on, grinning. “You’re all welcome here as usual, but you just need to watch your language a little, and if you spring a boner, you might want to keep it under water until it disappears.”

We assured him that we would be models of propriety.

While we were sunbathing, Tommy and I told Billy and Patrick what had happened in gym.

“Shit,” Billy said. “We can’t let that go on. If you need help dealing with it, let me know. I can always get a few older guys to teach the bigmouths what they need to know.”

“I’ll be happy to help,” said Patrick.

I was pleased that we had their backing.

Since Tommy and I had walked with Raphael on Friday, I knew where his locker was. On Monday, after quickly getting my books for the first two classes, I went to his locker, where he was standing alone.

“Raphael,” I said quietly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t stand up for you the other day. But I’ve learned something, and that won’t happen again.”

“Do you think the others have learned anything?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I hope so. Anyway, from now on, Tommy and I have your back.”

The day went peacefully and nothing untoward was said in gym, although I saw several glances passed back and forth and wondered what that was about.

On Tuesday, Raphael wasn’t in school, but Wednesday morning when I went to his locker, he was there sporting a black eye.

“Oh, shit,” I said, “what happened?”

“Never mind,” he replied. “You cannot do anything.”

“Did you get attacked after school?”

He nodded, reluctantly.

“By who?”

“I don’t know their names. They were bigger than I was, and I didn’t have a chance.”

“Okay. How do you go home after school?”

“I walk. It’s not a very nice part of town.”

“I don’t care where or how far it is, this afternoon Tommy and I will walk with you.”

“No. You might get hurt.”

“Then we’ll all get hurt together.”

At lunch I told Tommy what I had planned for him. We both called our mothers to tell them we’d be late getting home.

After PE, Tommy and I went with Raphael to his locker. Then we all walked out of school together.

We walked for a way, and I could agree that we weren’t going into one of the nicer parts of town. Despite my determination, I was getting a little nervous.

With no warning, three boys holding baseball bats stepped out from beside a house and confronted us. One of them was Carl Marshall.

Looking at me and Tommy, Carl said, “You’d better leave. We have no problem with you.”

“But I think we have a problem with you,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Your choice,” he said, and they began to move towards us.

NEXT CHAPTER