Circumstances 31

Monday, I had too much on my mind to pay much attention in school.  Let’s see: in only a few weeks I’d been caught having a wet dream on the school bus; I’d been caught by the vice-principal who thought I was using the hand dryer in the boys’ room as my own personal sex toy; I’d been caught semi-streaking in the halls; I’d been made a spectacle of at a school assembly, where the entire school was given some insight into my budding sexuality; I’d found a friend who’d quickly become my best friend, the first person I’d ever told I was gay, and the first boy I’d ever fooled around with; I’d been caught and pantsed by a bunch of kids right out in the open on someone’s front lawn, then punched in the stomach; my mother’s mental stability seemed to be falling apart right before my eyes; and now I was moving out of the only home I’d ever known and my mother was going to live and work in another town.  All in all, it had been a busy time.

OK, I had to admit, not all of this had been bad.  But I felt sort of like a pinball, being bounced off all those flippers and bumpers and all.  I needed a vacation.

I didn’t get one.  Mrs. Gallagher assigned us an essay on what one change we felt we could make in ourselves that would most benefit us as we grew older.  We had two weeks to finish and hand it in to her.   Mrs. Bowerman, in first period trig, gave us a pop quiz; I hadn’t had much time to do homework over the weekend, worrying about such trivial things as where I was going to be living next month, and because I’d blown off my trig homework, planning to do it at lunch and hand it in late, I bombed the quiz.  Which earned me some rather scathing remarks.  No one likes Mrs. Bowerman much.  Me neither.

At lunch, I ate by myself, as usual.  I spent most of the time glancing around the room, not making eye contact, just seeing who was with whom.  I noticed one thing that was different.  Usually Darryl Cane, one of the kids who’d pantsed me, ate with Tony and his posse.  Today, he was sitting by himself, too, and Tony only had two kids with him.  I wondered what that was all about.  Later, when I was surveying the room another time, I saw Darryl was looking at me, and our eyes met for a moment before I moved on.  But in that moment, it looked to me like he had a black eye.

After school, I rode home on the bus with Gary.  He was being his usual boisterous, outgoing self.  I was quiet.  But then, that’s me being myself, too.  He was used to it by now.

He showed me the spare bedrooms at their house.  It was a big house and had lots of bedrooms, and they only used two of them themselves.  I chose the one that was right across the hall from Gary’s, one that overlooked the backyard and pool.  It had a queen-sized bed and more room than my room and my mom’s at home combined.  It also had a walk-in closet that my clothes would probably be lonely in.

Mrs. Jenks drove us both over to my house.  My mom wasn’t home, and there was no note or anything personal from her to me at all.  I wasn’t really expecting anything, but I guess I’d been hoping there’d be a note on my pillow or something, anything, to say she’d miss me, or good luck or, or something.  I’d never been away from her in my 14 years.  Now, I was leaving her, even if only briefly, and it would be nice to know she felt some emotions about the separation like I did.

I gathered all my stuff, which really meant my clothes, bathroom stuff and my computer.  It all fit in the car without the need of a second trip.

Gary helped me set up my room.  I think he noticed I was feeling a little emotional, and so he softened his personality a little.  When I had everything put away and my computer set up, I sat down on the bed.  He sat down next to me.

“You OK?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said.

He looked at me strangely for a minute, then said, “Let’s go swimming.”

I looked back at him, then smiled.  “Where did that come from?”

“You look like you need to do something energetic.  Get your mind off whatever it is you’re thinking about right now.  Come on.”

He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into his room, closed the door and started stripping.  I watched.  He dumped all his clothes on the floor, and when he was naked, looked at me and grinned.  “How come I’m always naked and you’re not even starting to undress?”

I almost blushed, but didn’t.  “I guess I like looking at you, both when you’re getting undressed and then when you’re naked.”

“Well, the peep show’s for later. We’re swimming now.  Get undressed or I’ll do it for you.”

“Oh yeah?  You and what army?”

So he undressed me, with me resisting, and it became a tussle, ending up on his bed when I pushed him there, and though he finally did get me undressed, the swimming had to wait quite a bit later than he’d planned.

But that was OK.  In all the tussling getting me naked, and then the aftermath of that, I’d forgotten all about the overly-sentimental garbage that had been cluttering up my head and had stopped feeling sorry for myself, and when we did get in the water, I was OK again and we had a great time.  He’d been right: I’d needed some physical activity, and man, by the end of the afternoon we’d certainly had some of that.