West Four
Finn
He is life. . . for us. . .
After Sebastian’s Little Mermaid movie—which had Sarah in a sobbing fit about ‘how beautiful’ the mermaid and prince were together—I went upstairs to the bathroom, annoyed. What the fuck is wrong with two princes?
No, I didn’t have a tail or fin, but I was sure, if Johnny was gay, I could’ve made him just as happy as the stupid cartoon.
“Hey, can I have a minute?” Dale was already following me up the stairs.
Was I in the mood? No.
Did I know the man was worried? Yes.
I stopped at the top and leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms. “What’s up?”
He did the same against the opposite wall. Except he didn’t cross his arms. He linked his hands in front of him. “How are you?”
This question didn’t surprise me. He always worried so much about me after learning I physically harmed myself when I couldn’t deal with my conflicting and confusing feelings. Or the aftermath of trauma.
He was the one who insisted I go to counseling because some cruelties had ways of digging deep and forming barbs that were hard to yank free.
I would always appreciate his intervention.
At the time, I had been angry, but maturity and time had shown me that Dale acted with a pure heart and with the best intentions.
He just never knew that the foster kid he lost to suicide had also been my first consensual lover. “You’ve been with us the longest.”
That meant I knew how much he had aged due to all we had put him through. “Yeah.”
He didn’t have to say why this conversation was happening. He was afraid Johnny leaving would make me spiral or that I would start to cut again. But he really didn’t need to worry. It wasn’t tempting me. Not after my promise to Johnny.
But I was also struggling with Dale because he just took away the one person I connected with the most since my arrival here.
Johnny and I weren’t lovers, but he touched me deeper than sex.
He helped me see the light when I was still lost in some of the darkest moments in my life.
Not even the counselor opened me like Johnny.
But Dale didn’t know that. Nor did I know what he had to say next.
“And to me, you’ll always be my son.”
The breath in my lungs suddenly felt tight.
“You’re right here.” Dale tapped his chest over his heart. “So, when I say I have to take care of the young ones in this house, but I can’t if I’m worried about you, it’s one-hundred percent true.”
Fuck. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to feel. All I knew was there was a surge of energy rising from my feet to my… heart.
He pushed off the wall and approached me. His hand lifted and gripped my shoulder. “I know you’ve had some challenging, uh, pressure about your personal preferences and romantic choices.”
Now my mind was thrown into memories. Like the pain when I snuck into the bathroom stall in school, lifting my shirt to see my bruised ribs after telling a guy on the football team he was cute.
Then the warm but firm pressure of Johnny’s lips.
The soft moan that filled my head during the kiss…
The loneliness every time I think of being with the same sex— “You could say that,” I nearly choked.
“I counted on Johnny,” he started to explain.
I put my head down. “I know.”
“But it’s you I’m counting on now. You’re ready to step up and handle it.”
My head lifted. My eyes widened. “I thought I was ready. Johnny asked me to… but…” I rubbed my chest as I realized— “What if… What if…” What is wrong with me?
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Huh? Suddenly feeling exposed and not liking it, I asked, “What wasn’t?”
Dale tightened his hold on my shoulders as if preparing to punch me with words. “The accident.”
Wham! That’s what the truth felt like to my stomach. A gut punch, reminding me that my failure had been right there all along. Ever since I got Caleb killed.
Dale quickly added, “Even if I were driving, that drunk would have caused me to—”
I pushed him away from me, and he let me. “Enough.”
“Even if Harmony were driving, we would have lost Caleb—”
“Enough!” I didn’t want to hear one more syllable about being the one responsible for such a loss.
“And no one holds you responsible—”
“Dale!” I screamed. “Stop!”
“I love you, Finn.”
“Please!” I cried.
“I only love good people.” He pulled me into an embrace I needed, even though I fought it.
“You have to stop.”
He didn’t. “And you’re one of the best, Finn.”
I fell apart in his arms. Moments passed before I finally caught my breath. “I’m so sorry he’s gone.”
“I know.”
“I’m. So. Fucking. Sorry.”
He rocked me. “It was the drunk driver’s fault.” He whispered in my ear, “That’s why I’m not sorry the asshole is dead.”
My ears rang, and heat rushed to my cheeks. Slowly, not sure if I heard him correctly, I peered from his shoulder to read his expression. I gasped when I saw a wicked determination. A gratefulness that only a parent can understand.
I asked, “Are you serious?”
A curt nod. “Beat to death.”
Somewhat scared of the answer, I whispered, “Was it you?”
Dale jerked. “Oh! No. Not at all.” Then he stared at me with that encrypted stare of his.
Comprehending his meaning, I gawked. Then mouthed, “Johnny?”
I suddenly remembered Sarah, in the car the night Blue died. She sneered. “You cross lines in your sleep.” She declared, “I’ve held your hand while you check off your ‘revenge list’.”
Dale kept staring as if deciding what to confirm but finally said, “Can’t be sure, but the coroner announced a timeframe that sure fits him leaving here.” Abundantly clear, he added, “To a T.”
I was lost between being freaked and finding Johnny even hotter. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.” He lifted his chin and released me before taking a step back. “So, let’s let Johnny and his connections handle any other revenge needed. Whoever hurt Blue. Got it?”
Dale didn’t know that answer, but we did: the pastor.
I didn’t reply. That promise wasn’t all mine to make. “Seb, he’s not doing well.”
“You think a murder charge will actually help?”
Not saying anything, I looked away. I didn’t quite have the balls to consider kind, Blue-loving Sebastian in a prison cell. With hungry prison mates.
Sounding a bit angry, Dale compounded my worry. “You think it’s easy to actually murder someone?”
My stomach turned.
“Fine.” Dale almost growled, “Think you nitwits can avoid getting caught?”
Still not able to meet his glare, I mumbled, “I’ve watched a few Dateline shows.”
A cruel laugh escaped him. “Yeah, those shows tell you how exactly it feels to snuff out a life with your bare hands.”
Bare hands? Wait… Now my eyes snapped to his. “The driver?”
“I said beat, didn’t I?” Dale held up two fists. The ones he taught us how to spar with and protect ourselves with. “I talked to a buddy at the precinct. There was too much bleach to get any DNA, but no weapon was involved according to the coroner.”
Bleach! We had all dreamt of it! Oh my God.
Dale was pleased his words were sinking in. “By how pale you just got, I think I’ve made my message clear.”
Even though he was wrong, that I was truly twigging over the blood oath and all the connections it was causing, I nodded, feeling sick. “Crystal clear—” Crystal water—I grabbed my stomach. I might puke.
“Okay, okay.” Dale guided me to the bathroom. “Go rinse off your face before you pass out. Thank you for hearing me.” He left me at the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
When he was out of sight and I was in the bathroom, I spun in a circle, a little unsteady on my feet.
The emotional upheaval of that conversation, and what I’d’ just learned, had me queasy.
I shut the door and flipped on the light.
Staring into the mirror, I asked myself, “Did we really dream of bleach because of Johnny?” It seemed impossible! Apparently, nothing is impossible.
If that was the case, if anything was possible, then … “I can kill a man with my bare hands, right?” I asked my reflection.
I was a jock who pretended to be straight. I held my own on the field. Off the field, I had faced death. But could I cause it? Could I be like Johnny?
A red-haired, pale-skinned, freckle-faced, and full of imperfections young man stared back at me in the mirror.
My shoulders slumped. Hopeless.
Turning on the faucet, I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and splattered water onto my face. After some cleansing splashes and deep breaths, I dared not be so critical of my reflection.
After looking up again, with water dripping from my skin, I rolled my eyes at the irony.
Are you kidding me right now? I was hoping to see a badass.
One who could get bloody for his family if needed.
Instead, I got a quick reminder that I appeared to be nothing of the sort. Great. I’m a gay, sparkling Sinner.
One week later
Maybe it was the stars in the water the Misfits bathed in that brought us an ounce of peace. Maybe it was that I had officially moved into Johnny’s old room, which calmed me. I just sensed hope. That we had a chance. At what? Not a clue. Just couldn’t shake the sense I was getting somewhere.
We had all returned to school and were coping the best we could.
College and baseball were actually a great distraction from the concern of what all the blood oath entailed—what other ‘special abilities’ might eventually appear—and the heartache over Blue and Caleb, and the questions in my head about Johnny killing a man.
Did he feel guilty or satisfied about removing scum from the earth?
Sarah seemed to be avoiding Ethan like the plague. Possibly due to biting him?
Sebastian was struggling with all the Blue questions at school. I heard him speaking to Harmony about it in the kitchen. “They all want answers. Everyone seems angry that the police have no suspects. Somehow, even strangers knew how special she was.”
I couldn’t imagine being missed as she was. I couldn’t imagine anyone thinking so highly of me.