Circumstances 47

The next morning, at breakfast, when I was half-awake, Mr. Jenks spoke to me, looking over the top of his paper, asking me what my choice would be if I had to choose: to live with my mother or stay with them?  That wasn’t any choice at all.  I didn’t like the thought that my mother cared so little about me that she had abandoned me when she’d gone to San Diego, even if my life had been much better since then.

But now she wanted to come back and take me away from this, take me back to something I didn’t know.  I’d only met her parents once, when I was little, and hardly remembered them, other than her father had a mustache and I was a little scared of him.  I didn’t know anyone in Dubuque.  I was pretty sure that I’d learned it was in Iowa, but I’d have to look it up to be sure.  I wasn’t even sure about where Iowa was, other than it was someplace in the middle.  Don’t they grow flax there, or something like that?  And what’s flax, anyway? 

I didn’t know anyone there, I’d never been there, I didn’t know what her parents would be like now that I was older, I didn’t have an almost boyfriend there like I did here, I didn’t like the idea of sleeping in the living room where anyone could walk in and see me, and maybe I’d kicked the sheets and blankets off, especially if I’d kicked the sheets and blankets off, I didn’t like the idea of not having any privacy, I didn’t like not going to school—the whole thing was fucked.

I did like living with the Jenks.  I loved it.  So there wasn’t really any choice at all.  I wanted to stay where I was.  I told Mr. Jenks that.

So he told me what his lawyers said.  And it sounded OK to me, but as I said, I was only half awake.  He had me sign something, then left.  I went back to my cereal and toast.  I never had been a morning person.

At lunch, Darryl smiled at me, and I smiled at him, and he asked when we could swim again, although the way he said ‘swim again’  didn’t sound like he was thinking about getting wet, at least not with pool water, and I might have blushed.  I told him after school would be good, and he asked me if I’d be his boyfriend.  For however long we had.  My eyes opened wide, and I nodded.  Really hard.

In the halls, I saw Gary, and told him Darryl and I were boyfriends; that he’d asked me.  Gary high-fived me, then surprised me by kissing me on the cheek, a quick peck, and started to tell me how happy he was for me, when we were interrupted.

“You two.  In my office.  Now!”

Mr. Johnson was looming over us.  He turned and marched, and we followed like, well, we followed him.

“You two queers are in trouble,” he said, when we were sitting in front of him.

“Uh, you aren’t supposed to have any contact with me,” I said, somewhat bashfully.  I was getting better at standing up for myself, but not so much with him.

“Why in trouble?” Gary asked.  He didn’t seem intimidated at all, only curious.

“PDA,” said Mr. Johnson, seeming very pleased with himself.  “Not allowed.  It’s in the book.  I’m going to have to make an example of you.  Unless you agree right now to a five day suspension.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Gary exclaimed.

“You kissed him.  If that’s not a Personal Display of Affection, what the hell is it?”  Mr. Johnson didn’t like students talking back to him, and Gary just had.  “Not only that, but you’re both perverts!  There aren’t any rules about that, but there should be!  When I went to school, we knew how to handle guys like you.  Took ‘em out under the bleachers and showed ‘em what we thought of them and where they stood.”  He stopped and smiled, remembering, I guessed, what it felt like to be part of a whole group of guys smashing two boys who probably weren’t any better than I was at protecting themselves against a mob.

“So, what’ll it be?  A suspension, or do I make an example of you in front of the whole school?”

“What are you talking about?”  Gary looked like he was getting upset.  I’d never seen him really upset.  He was easy-going, friendly, outgoing and had leadership qualities and a certain benign composure even at his age.  I realized right then, he was like his dad.  Mr. Jenks was the same way!

I watched as Gary began arguing with Mr. Johnson, not in awe of the man at all, even though Mr. Johnson was getting hotter and hotter, and his comments sharper and more cutting.  As I watched, I noticed the strangest phenomenon.  Normally, I’d have been looking for a hole to crawl into about then.  And, it wasn’t happening!  I wasn’t retreating into my shell at all! 

I’d always hated confrontations, and that was one reason adults like Mr. Johnson, and my mother, bothered me so much.  Their natural response to any sort of argument was to shout back and get louder and louder, which meant I always began pulling back into myself almost from the start.  Even if I wasn’t the one being yelled at, that was my reaction.  Now, however, all the physical responses I’d always felt, the tight stomach, the nervousness, the cold sweating, the shivering, the rapid heartbeat, my brain shutting down, were absent.  I recognized that, and found it more than remarkable.  It was amazing.  I wasn’t scared!

“Bring it on!”  That was Gary, and he was on his feet, yelling as loudly as Mr. Johnson was.  Both of them were as close to each other as they could get.  If the desk hadn’t been between them, they’d have been at each other’s throats.  Which wouldn’t have been good as Mr. Johnson had at least 150 pounds and six inches on Gary.

“You got it!  Right now!  In the auditorium!”

He picked up the microphone he had on his desk, flipped a switch, and said, “Attention all students and staff.  There will be an assembly of all students in the auditorium in five minutes.  Five minutes.  No one is excused.  Go there now!”

He flipped off the switch, looked at us, and shouted, “March!”