Chapter 23 A Fork in the Road
Afew hours later, Matt sat in his dorm room.
His right hand ached. Its knuckles were bruised and bloody.
That was the least of his problems. When he’d tried sitting across from Idabel at dinner, his friend had mumbled that he wasn’t hungry after all.
Went and scraped his food into the trash, ambled away.
That was when Matt realized he had seriously fucked up.
Idabel was not someone whose mother had ever had to tell him to clean his plate.
Welcome to life in the miserable AMP.
Who could have guessed that a pair of thong underwear could wreak such havoc?
Roger charged into Matt, his head ramming Matt’s chest.
Matt’s left arm snaked out, yanked Roger into a headlock.
“STOP!” Coach bellowed.
Matt reluctantly obeyed. He released Roger and stepped away from the fray. There would be other opportunities to settle this score.
Roger staggered backward.
A sullen hush settled over the room.
“A few minutes ago, no one would take responsibility for these underthings,” Coach said, pointing to the thong underwear and fishnet stocking. “Now I’ve got three suspects.”
Roger scowled. “Idabel and Mustang confessed. I didn’t.”
Coach crossed his arms, glared at Roger. “Even after I told you I didn’t want to play Cinderella’s Prince, you took the role and tried figuring out whether the underwear fit Idabel or Mustang!”
“Even if I did, that doesn’t make me a suspect.”
“Agreed,” Coach said. “Then you got hoisted by your own petard. Mustang turned the tables on you! I wonder if maybe he’s right and the man panties are yours.”
Coach’s face was red with anger. He snatched up the thong underwear, held them out towards Roger. “Want to see if your foot fits into this glass slipper, Cinderella?”
Roger shook his head, stared at the floor.
Matt almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Coach nodded at Roger. “Good choice. Now I can deal with the other two nitwits who are doing their level best to ruin my chances at a winning season.”
Coach let the thong underwear fall to the floor. He held up a finger. “How many fingers is that, Idabel?”
“One,” Idabel said.
“Mustang? Do you see more than one finger?”
Matt shook his head.
“Just checking to see if you two know how to count,” Coach said. “One. That’s all I needed. One guy to take responsibility for the man panties and the hooker hose. One guy to ride the bench for a couple of games, and the rest of us could move on.”
Coach paced back and forth like a caged lion. He was agitated. “Instead, it appears that I have two competing confessions. My hands are tied. I must turn it over to the dean and let him sort it out…unless…”
“Unless what?” Matt asked.
Coach slowed his pacing. “I’m wondering if maybe I misunderstood.
That perhaps you two were trying to tell the same story—not competing ones.
That you were trying to explain that you were only guilty of the bad judgment of having used Mustang’s key to give an unauthorized tour of this facility.
That the real culprits here, the girl with the hooker hose, the guy with the man panties, are not students.
That whatever they did, or did not do, while you were conducting your tour of this facility, is on them—not you. ”
“Coach?” Idabel was confused.
Coach gave Idabel a salesman’s smile. “I was just wondering, Idabel. Obviously, only you and Mustang know what really happened.”
“That’s exactly what we were saying Coach!” Matt jumped in, improvising on the fly. He understood that Coach wanted out of this mess as much as he did. All that was needed was a story that cobbled Matt’s and Idabel’s earlier statements into a semi-plausible whole.
“Idabel’s sister and my brother met at our Saints game,” Matt lied. “They hit it off. Started dating…”
Idabel shook his head. “I don’t have a sister.”
Matt elbowed Idabel. “What he means, Coach, is that the young woman is not technically his sister. She’s his cousin. The two of them look so much alike that people jokingly refer to them as siblings.”
One of the seniors offered a wry observation. “We are talking about McCurtain County, Coach. They’re known for sister-cousins and other odd forks of the family tree.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone but Idabel.
Matt continued. He had supplied the necessary non-student male and female.
Now he had to dress them in the offending garb—and explain how it ended up on the locker room floor.
“My brother is into that grunge style. Combat boots. Ratty shirts. Low riding ripped jeans. Man panties visible from the rear.” Man panties had nothing to do with grunge.
Matt hoped Coach wasn’t up-to-speed on teen styles.
“Got it,” said Coach. “And the fishnet stockings? Women’s—what did you call it, grunge?”
One of the players called out. “Nope, Coach. McCurtain County women are just trashy!”
Everyone laughed—even Idabel.
“Anyway,” Matt continued, “the four of us went out for pizza. The two lovebirds wanted to get a tour of this building, you know, see where the magic happens. I used my key to let us in. Since we also planned to walk around campus, I suggested to Idabel’s sister that she ditch the stockings.
Told my brother to lose the man panties.
I gave him some clean briefs from my locker.
They must have taken my advice. I can assure you there wasn’t time for any hanky-panky. ”
Coach weighed Matt’s story, ran a finger along his jawline. “I just want to clarify one point. Earlier, when Idabel referred to this sister-cousin as his ‘girl,’ he wasn’t implying she’s his girlfriend, right?”
“Nope.” Matt said. “I can confidently tell you that Idabel does not have a girlfriend. Isn’t that right, Idabel?”
That was the only true thing Matt had said.
Matt’s bruised and bloodied right hand did not get that way by virtue of its having impacted with Roger’s face.
His hand had been fine throughout soccer practice. Still unblemished when he sat across from Idabel for dinner.
That was when Idabel had left the table and emptied his plate into the trash.
Matt had followed him, calling his name, wanting to talk.
It was in the hall outside the cafeteria that Idabel had wheeled around, facing Matt. He was angrier than Matt had ever seen him. “What do you want?”
“I’d like to explain,” Matt had said.
Idabel had crossed his meaty arms. His biceps bulged. He could do heavy damage if he were ever so inclined. “Like you ‘explained’ in the locker room Saturday night? When you lied and said you were with Ava? Like you ‘explained’ today when you lied to Coach?”
“That’s not fair,” Matt had said. “You assumed it was Ava. I just shrugged and didn’t correct you.”
“And that’s not lying in your book?” Idabel had asked.
Matt had sighed, looked around to make sure there was no one within earshot of this conversation. “There are things you don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“Here’s what I know,” Idabel had hissed.
“I know that blue Camry in the parking lot wasn’t Ava’s.
Turns out there are two blue Camry’s at MCU.
One belongs to that old lady in Financial Aid, Mrs. Turlington.
The other belongs to a skinny sophomore dude with girly hair.
Named Todd. So, either ole lady Turlington or this Todd dude was the person hiding in the toilet stall.
Not sure whether it was you or that person who wore the man panties.
Well, I mean, I can’t imagine Mrs. Turlington wearing man panties.
And really the panties are too small for you.
So, probably that Todd dude wore those. That leaves the stockings.
Maybe you. Maybe the Todd dude wore both the panties and the stockings.
I’d ask you if I’m right, but why bother? You’re good at lying.”
Idabel had paused, offering Matt a chance to respond anyway.
Matt had stared back, afraid to even blink for fear that doing so might reveal that Idabel had stumbled onto the truth.
Matt’s breath caught, trapped in his lungs by the same fear that even exhaling would betray himself.
Whatever confidence about his sexuality he had gained in the last few weeks evaporated against the black void of Idabel’s eyes.
This was MCU, after all. Fags had been expelled with less evidence than this. Cast into the Outer Darkness. Disowned by their families. Disfellowshipped by their churches—and, yes, that was a regular enough occurrence to have merited its own word.
To survive as a fag in this place required duality. Out and vibrant in the safety of the GM. Cringingly closeted the rest of the time. Matt had briefly exulted in the former, had ignored the demands of the latter. He could not make that mistake again.
Idabel had continued. “Believe it or not, even in McCurtain County we know about queers. Guys having sex with guys and all that. I’ve never met a queer before, at least not that I know for certain. Can’t honestly say how I’d react if it turned out one of my friends was queer.”
“I told you it’s complicated,” Matt had whispered.
Idabel had frowned. “Maybe that part is complicated. That’s not why I’m mad.
I’m mad because you disrespected Coach and every member of our team by having sex in our locker room.
Doesn’t matter if it was Ava, ole lady Turlington, or that Todd dude.
You were trusted with a key to the building.
You betrayed that trust because you couldn’t keep your pecker in your pants. ”
Matt had interrupted. “I—”
“Let me finish,” Idabel had said. “You didn’t care about betraying trust. Costing Coach his job.
Costing some of us scholarships. Costing all of us the season.
You didn’t even care about our friendship enough to trust me with your secret.
You cared about your dick. Only your dick.
That’s why I’m mad. I can’t say for sure what I think of queers.
I do know that I can’t stand selfish liars. ”
Idabel had walked away.