Chapter 23 Isak
ISAK
“I don’t think Lachlan is going to do Browser History,” I mutter to Jody and Zanita as we walk into second period on Tuesday. I’d hoped Lachlan would change his mind, but since I haven’t heard from him again, I figure it’s a done deal.
Zanita turns to me, her black eyeliner extra bold today and black makeup lines going down either side of her nose. “Why do you say that?”
“He told me he was thinking of dropping out.”
“Why?”
What do I tell them? The truth? Or will that hurt him in some way? I can’t think of a reason to lie. “Because he doesn’t want to portray a homosexual relationship onstage.”
Jody gives me a WTF look. “Didn’t he know the plot when he tried out?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think he read the script before he auditioned.”
“And he didn’t even look up the story?” Their expression remains skeptical.
“Guess not.” I play with the key to the supply closet, which hangs under my shirt. I don’t know why I’m still wearing it. I should give it back to him. He’s never going to want to be with me for real, and I was just deluding myself that I was okay with no-kiss, one-way hookups. My eyes feel hot.
“Well, that sucks,” Zanita says.
“My thoughts, too,” I admit.
“You never know who is going to be a hater,” Jody says bitterly.
“I wouldn’t have expected it of him.” Zanita delicately seats herself at her usual desk and pulls out her notebook. Jody and I slide in at her sides.
“He’s not a hater,” I say. “It can be … complicated, I think, for some people to …” How do I finish that sentence?
Complicated for some people to portray a gay character, because it might challenge their internalized homophobia?
To show their true self, because it’s not safe?
To step out of an image they’ve spent their entire lives cultivating?
Thankfully, none of my friends make me finish the sentence; they nod in agreement, though I’m not sure where they think I was going. Perhaps any way of ending it would be accurate.
“If he doesn’t do it, then who’s going to be the other lead?” Jody asks.
“No idea.” I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Even though it’d be torture spending that much time with Lachlan, it’s the kind of torture I’d relish. I like him. I feel sorry for him. And I enjoy being in his company, even if he only gives me scraps of his time.
Pathetic. I should just give him up. I spent the entire weekend staring at my phone wondering what I should say to him. Don’t worry about it, Lachlan? Do it anyway? It’s okay to quit?
If he quits, maybe I will, too. Why should I put myself through all this rigmarole? I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.
Except maybe myself.
I’m sitting in the quad during the morning break, knitting. Malik and the Queen of Darkness have a meeting for the literary magazine, and Jody went to go talk to a teacher.
There’s laughter and movement next to me, and then a loud, ugly voice. “Hey, loser. Why are you always wearing a skirt?” A pair of heavy construction boots steps into my space. I look up, and my gut clenches. It’s Daniel. Ugh. Plus Jacob and Mike. The bigot trio.
“Whatever,” I mumble, and go back to purling. This is normal; case in point, the comments section on my social media. I just have to watch out and make sure that someone isn’t going to take it further—words, I can deal with. Fists, not so much.
“We’re talking to you,” Daniel says, kicking my foot. “Answer the question.”
I roll my eyes. “Because I feel like it. What’s it to you?”
Sometimes there’s only the slightest line between my pride in who I am and hot shame. Currently, the shame is pushing up against that line, threatening to take over.
Remember who you are. Don’t freeze.
Except. I’m freezing up. Fuck.
“It’s weird,” Mike says, his eyes a harsh squint. “You look weird.”
“And you’re such tough guys to pick on the weird kid.” I’m still mumbling. “I don’t need to justify my outfits. I like my clothes.” I especially like this long, floral black skirt and my tweed jacket with elbow patches.
Jacob steps closer, and I swallow hard. I don’t want to get into a fight, but I will if I have to.
“We don’t like them at all.” Daniel reaches down and grabs my T-shirt, dragging me up. I drop my needles and yarn.
Adrenaline courses through my blood, and I make a fist the way my dad taught me years ago. I glare at these assholes, one at a time, directly in their eyes. If they’re going to tease me to my face, I want them to get a good look at it. Because fuck them.
We’ve attracted a group of kids, most of whom have their phones out and are recording. It must be pretty obvious that something is about to go down.
I raise my chin. “That’s your problem, not mine.” My blood is boiling.
I take a step back, trying for some space to throw a punch, but before I get a swing in, a familiar voice growls, “Leave Isak alone.” And then Lachlan Doyle is shoving his way into the circle, pushing Daniel to the side.
I’ve never seen this expression on his face.
Usually, Lachlan “I will flirt with a rock” is all grins and friendliness.
Now, though, he’s hard lines and rage. His body is quivering, hands twitching at his sides but seemingly ready to let fly at a moment’s notice.
For someone who never seems to participate in the fighting at his home, he certainly looks wrathful now.
I edge toward him, wanting to get close, but that’s not a thing we do in public. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Helping. Don’t argue,” Lachlan mutters, his shoulder bumping mine so he’s slightly in front of me. Guarding me.
My midsection goes all jumbled at the thought.
Daniel smirks at Lachlan. “Why are you sticking up for this loser?” He indicates me with his chin.
“Isak’s my neighbor. Don’t pick on him,” Lachlan declares.
“Damn, you’d think you liked him,” Jacob sneers, his arms crossed and his stance wide.
“Of course I like him,” Lachlan says easily, and I hold my breath. “He’s a cool dude. Don’t bug him. He has enough shit to worry about.”
Actually, Lachlan is the one with enough shit to worry about. But no one else seems to know that.
“Does he suck your cock in exchange for your protection?” Mike asks, his head tilted, a deliberate eyebrow raised.
Don’t react. Don’t react.
Lachlan doesn’t hesitate. “I told you: He’s my neighbor.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was more than that,” Jacob says, an ugly twist to his mouth. Homophobic asshole.
Again, Lachlan’s posture is nonchalant, although his fingers are forming fists.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, but so what if he was?
My mom and his mom grew up together, and our families have known each other for generations.
Queer, straight, cis, trans, it doesn’t matter, because he’s fucking off-limits.
Period. Don’t pick on him just because he’s different.
Don’t pick on anyone. If you pick on any queer kid at this school, you’re going to have to answer to me. ”
And they know who his uncle is. His uncle, whose platform is very pro-LGBTQ+. Even if it’s lip service bullshit.
Daniel stares us down for another long moment, then rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”
My cheeks are burning with embarrassment. I’ve almost graduated from high school, and it’s like I’m on the kindergarten playground again. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” I mumble to Lachlan.
But the problem is, my dick is swelling, because Lachlan Doyle just claimed me, in a roundabout sort of way, in front of the whole school.
After another tense moment, the crowd disperses, but Lachlan remains.
My friend Annie comes over, holding hands with her girlfriend, Gin. “Glad you did that,” she says to Lachlan. “People talk shit all the time, and the more straight people like you who stand up to them, the better.”
“It was nothing,” Lachlan mutters.
“No, it was courageous,” Annie says.
He nods. “Then, thanks.”
I pick up my knitting and backpack. “I need to say thanks, too.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says lightly, forcing a smile. “Can’t have him hurting you.”
It’s not his real smile, but I’m still affected. Like I’m aware that a creature in a movie is CGI, but I still believe it could exist IRL. He makes everyone believe the lie.
I open my mouth to say more, but the bell rings. I couldn’t say what I want to in front of everyone else anyway. With one more glance at him, I take off to class.