by Cole Parker
Circumstances 13
The afternoon passed with guys looking at me all day, but no one approaching me to talk. That was the same as always, except for the looking at me part. I never saw Gary, but I’d convinced myself that it wouldn’t matter much if I did.
Outside, kids were clamoring onto the buses, and I took my turn. When I was on, though, standing next to the driver and ready to dare going to the seat I always sat in, the driver held out her hand.
“Hold it, mister!”
I stopped.
She was scowling at me. “You’re the one, aren’t you? The sex maniac who upset this bus yesterday morning. Aren’t you?”
Feeling my stomach twitch and then tighten—another angry adult to deal with—I said “Uh, no. I’m no maniac, sexual or any other kind.”
“I think you were, uh, are. A pervert.” Her voice was getting louder as she spoke. “You’re the one. The one all the kids were laughing and shouting about. The one who was, well, I can’t say it. I’m a good Christian lady, and don’t know about disgusting things like what you were doing, but, THEY WILL NOT HAPPEN ON MY BUS! This is a good Christian bus!”
When she shouted that at me, her eyes got real big. I was looking at a crazy woman!
But the past couple of days had changed me a little: I answered her back. Maybe I am perverted, just a little.
“Uh, what things are those? Just so I know not to be doing them?”
She sputtered a little and her face turned red, but by then the kids behind me were getting impatient and had shoved me forward. I glanced back at the bus lady and she was still sputtering. I hoped she didn’t want to preach religion at me. I hate that.
I sat in my seat. The kids around me were staring at me. Our bus was never full and a non-entity like me had the pleasure of his own seat. Except today, someone sat next to me. He was a good- looking popular kid, a year older than I was, so I expected the worst. In the regular course of human events, a kid like him would rather ride a pig sidesaddle to school than sit next to a loser like me. Riding a pig would get him grins. With me, all he’d get would be puzzled frowns. Popular kids don’t much like frowns.
“Hey,” he said.
I thought about not answering, but couldn’t possibly pull that off. He was him, I was me.
“Hey,” I said, probably sounding just as tentative as I was feeling.
“You’re Keith.” His expression was eager.
I nodded.
“I watched you on the bus the other morning. That was way cool! Really hot, you know? And when you came, well, wow! Man, that was just, well... hey! I wanted to ask you something. I know we don’t know each other, but, see, I’m gay, and no one knows, and it’s pretty lonely. But you doing that, I have to guess you’re gay, too. Right? And if you are, and I am, and you’re as lonely as I am...”
He broke off there, but was still looking at me with his eyes so full of enthusiasm, his grin so wide, his body language so eager, I felt like matching his eagerness. I started to nod, but then my innate shyness kicked in. It was never this easy for me with other guys.
I needed to say something, though. Something noncommittal. “It was really embarrassing,” I said, knowing it wasn’t answering him at all. But it felt safe.
“Yeah, I’m sure it was, but now everyone knows who you are, you’re the kid who came on the bus, and that’s good, isn’t it? And it’s good for me, ‘cause I get to meet another gay kid. You are gay, aren’t you?”
His eyes were even more sparkling when he asked that, and suddenly I wasn’t feeling just shy any longer. Now I was feeling both cautious and decidedly suspicious.
“You said you are,” I stammered, pretending the conversation was very difficult for me. It wasn’t that much pretending, either. “And you said you’re not out?”
“Oh, no, but since you’re gay too, I don’t mind you knowing.”
“Uh, just because I had a wet dream on the bus doesn’t have anything to do with whether I’m gay or not. As a matter of fact, I’m not. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you are.”
His grin disappeared just like that. I thought he looked disappointed, but I wasn’t sure why. Because I wasn’t gay? Or because he’d been scamming me, playing me for an idiot, and I hadn’t fallen for it? He stared at me intently for a moment, and then his eyes lit up and the grin was back. “It doesn’t make any difference, does it?” he asked cryptically, and my mind began racing.
He started to slide out of the seat, the grin growing, and I suddenly got it. I reached out and grabbed his arm, as tightly as I could because I was sure he’d try to shrug it off.
“Hey!” he said, and did try to jerk his arm away. I held on.
“Let go of me!”
I tried to make my voice hard, but I was talking to an older, popular kid who was bigger than I was, so it was difficult to pull off. But I did try. “Stay here. I have something to say that you should hear.”
Maybe there was a tone in my voice, because he stopped sliding on the seat and turned to look at me.
“I know what you’re going to do,” I said. “You’re going to tell your friends that you asked me and I said I was gay. You might even want to tell them I came on to you. That’ll make you a player. You’re setting me up. You’re not even gay, are you?”
I could see in his eyes that that was exactly what this was all about. He’d sat down here with the intention of getting the lowdown on what was up with me. Maybe he’d even planned to take it farther than just piling more embarrassment on me with his friends. Maybe he was hoping to get me to do things, gay things, with him, or to him, and then he’d really have something to tell people.
What had made me figure it out was his saying, ‘It doesn’t make any difference, does it?’ He’d meant that whether I said I was gay or not, he could still tell his friends I had admitted I was. And people would believe him, not me, if it came to that.
I went on. “Let’s talk about what’ll happen if you do that. I’ll tell Mr. Johnson what’s what. You heard what he said today. You heard what happened to that kid who tried to embarrass me in assembly. So just be ready.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but double clutched. Finally, he said, “You said you don’t tell on people.”
“I do if I’ve warned them in advance, and you’ve been warned. And remember two can play your game. Even if you don’t tell your friends I’m gay, I can tell Mr. Johnson you did, and...” I smiled at him. He tried to glare back, but he knew I had him by the short and curlies. He slid to the edge of the seat and walked away.