Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“You’re so stupid.” Joshua slings a carrot at me, and I jump to the side, narrowly missing a gopher hole.
“Hey, you’ll get it dirty! And I’m not stupid.”
“I doubt a horse is gonna care… Don’t they eat dirt all day?
Plus, I’m not the one who thought parmesan was pronounced par-mee-shawn.
” Joshua grins at me, and for a second, the pure joy in it takes my breath away.
From the first day he sat next to me in science class, there’s been this weird magnet in my chest that ties to his.
He’s just so effortlessly cool and smart.
He gets bullied for being gay, which he denies, but either way, I don’t care.
I think he’s cool as heck. I think I want to be him with his broody brains.
“Whatever.” I try to wipe the dumb look off my face.
When I glance back to see if he noticed, Joshua is giving me a soft look that immediately sets butterflies loose in my stomach.
I like the soft look on him. For a second, we’re caught there, staring at each other.
I look at his lips, his pretty pink lips, and I wonder what they’d feel like against mine.
Wait. What? I was just thinking that because they look so soft. Right? That’s it.
The sound of a car passing breaks through the silence, and Joshua clears his throat, grabbing the carrot. “Hey, it’s dirty. Clean it off for me.” He lunges at me, tackling me to the ground.
“Hey!” I exclaim, stumbling back, but he’s on top of me, his weight pressing into my stomach.
“Clean it, stupid,” Joshua mocks, his eyes bright, putting the carrot to my lips. In that second, something washes over me. It’s a heat that seeps through my skin. In my jeans, I harden.
I jerk my gaze up to Joshua’s, knowing he can probably feel it, and he’s there, staring down at me, a flushed look on his cheeks. He doesn’t move.
I swallow harshly, my own cheeks getting red, but he doesn’t pull away, and it sends a shot of adrenaline and joy through me. Suddenly, I can see my future. Our future. Us, happy together. Safe. Loved.
Joshua shakes his head, smiling. “Whatever, idiot.” He gets off me, running toward the fence line.
For a second, I feel his loss, but I get up and chase after him.
We feed Lucifer, the neighbor’s horse, and chase each other around, mocking each other until we’re both hungry and thirsty.
It feels good, I haven’t run around outside like this since I was a kid.
I glance at my watch. “I’m sure Beth will have dinner ready by now.”
From his bent over position where he’s heaving for breath, he gives me a weird look. “Your mom’s name is Beth?”
“No, that’s our cook.” I give him a teasing smile. “Weak butt, cat got your breath.”
“You have a cook?” Joshua’s brows raise.
Suddenly, I realize that he’s looking at me with the same look that other kids at school sometimes do.
“It’s not a big deal.” I try to shrug it off and lead him back to the house. Because it isn’t. My dad has money, so what? It doesn’t make me different from anyone else. I pay for it by him not being home at all anyway.
Joshua is quiet. I try to tease him and get him engaged again, but his snorts are softer. It makes my chest twist in the kind of way that makes me afraid. What happened? How can I get it back?
I turn around, heart racing, watching the sunset light up Joshua’s face. He looks so pretty, I’m not sure what to do. So instead, I tease, “Going slow there, Joshy boy. Need me to help?”
Joshua puts a hand up to his forehead, feigning faintness. “Oh yes, so frail.”
“I got you.” I sidle up to him, fully aware that Joshua is bigger than I am, and put my arm around his shoulder. “Allow me, fair maiden.”
Joshua drops all his weight into me, and I grunt. In response, he just puts more weight on me, and I hear the mocking in his tone. “You okay, cupcake?”
“Fine,” I grunt, walking Joshua through the yard to my house, not complaining at all at the contact. As soon as we round the tree, there’s a clear view of the back windows, and Joshua stiffens against me. I glance up at him, and there’s a line between his eyes.
“Are your parents home?”
I snort. “Nah, I don’t think so. My parents are never home.”
Joshua pulls away from me, and there’s a cracking feeling in my chest. But then, he slides his hand down and grabs mine.
Suddenly, I’m full of bubbly hope, and I look back at him.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Just in case your weak ass passes out after carrying me. I can’t explain to your richy rich parents why their precious son is bleeding out over the floor. ”
I laugh with him as we walk in the back door. “Well, it’s a richy rich mess, so they might not even notice.” The AC blasts us in a cool wave, and for a moment, all is perfect. I have a smart, funny guy with me and fudge, I think he might like me!
It all comes crashing down around me as my dad’s cold voice breaks across the kitchen. “Micah?”
I jerk my gaze up to see Dad standing there, a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. “Dad. What time is it?”
Joshua lets go of my hand like it’s burning him.
Mom is behind Dad in the hallway, leaning against the wall and giving me an annoyed look.
“Who’s this?” Dad asks, and even from across the room, I can smell the beer on his breath.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stevens,” Joshua says.
“This is–” My friend? Something more than that? “Joshua.” I turn back to give him a reassuring look, but his face is a mask of blankness.
“It’s late,” Dad says. “Time to go home.”
Joshua nods and backs up toward the back door. I feel torn between following him and asking Dad what the big deal is. He’s almost never home now anyway. Why does he care?
I turn to follow Joshua, who’s disappeared, but Dad’s voice follows me. “You stay here, son.”
I stop short. Dad never used this tone on me, and now he’s scared off Joshua. When I turn, my face is red.
“We’re gonna be late, you said you’d come with me,” Mom whines.
“Who the fuck is that?” Dad’s sneering now.
“Nicholas, did you hear me?” Mom asks.
“Who is that?” Dad roars.
“His name is Joshua!”
Dad’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Is that your little boyfriend?” He sets his beer glass down on the counter with a clink, making liquid slosh everywhere. For some reason, all I can focus on is his blue fingernails. They’ve been blue for a while.
I suck in a breath at the hatred I see in Dad’s gaze. It stops me cold, rooting me to the spot.
“I will not have a soft faggot for a son.” Dad slings the glass of beer my way. “I don’t even want to look at you.”
Cold beer splatters across my face, breaking me out of my frozen spot and into reality as the glass crashes into the cabinet.
Dad thinks I’m gay.
What’s happening? I’m not gay, right? I don’t know. Is Joshua okay?
Dad’s still yelling, and now Mom has joined in, so I take one step toward the back door, then another until I’m out of the house.
Where’s Joshua? I don’t see his car in the driveway, but I can hear my parents yelling inside. For a brief second, I wish it were Mom fighting for me, then I get even sadder. This is reality, not some make-believe world.
My parents don’t love me, and I’ve scared the person I wanted to make happy.
The next day, I’m late for school. I forgot one of my projects, and, most importantly, Joshua is avoiding me.
Every time he sees me in the hall, he turns around and goes the other way.
I haven’t even been able to ask him if he’s okay.
Although if he’s ignoring me, he’s probably not, but I need to talk to him.
I’m certain that if I can just show him how much I care, he’ll be okay again because I do care about him.
I more than care. I texted him like 30 times last night with no response.
I dig my fingernails into my eraser. I didn’t sleep at all last night, worried about how this would affect him, and beating myself up for not knowing they’d be home.
Little flakes of eraser drop onto the hallway floor. Did I take a bathroom break, and am I waiting outside of Joshua’s classroom to try to talk to him? Yes. Yes, I am. Because I know I can make it better.
When the bell rings, Joshua is one of the first out. When he sees me, he turns the other way.
“Wait!” I chase after him, stuffing the eraser in my pocket.
Joshua doesn’t turn, and the hallway starts to fill with people.
“Wait, please.” Running, I catch up with him and grab his shoulder, only to have him throw me a look with glassy, tear-filled eyes and jerk away from me.
He’s crying.
No, no, no, no. I grab him again, only for Joshua to jerk away harder. This time, the force of it knocks him into someone else. Not just someone else, an upperclassman who hates our guts. He takes one look at Joshua and his lip curls. “Watch where you’re going, twink.”
For a second, I’m stunned. I watch in horror as Joshua’s shoulders shrink in on themselves, and he mutters an apology.
I’m stuck there, feeling like last night all over again, and then I’m angry. Bone-deep anger that feels like it explodes out of every muscle, and in a voice that sounds a lot meaner than mine, I say, “What did you just say, fudgestain?”
There’s a pause, and the upperclassman turns to look at me. “The fuck did you just call me?”
“You heard me, you dead-from-the-neck-up git.”
The guy’s face gets red, and it only makes me grin. “What, too stupid to understand me?”
“Speak English, asshole.”
“Ironically, I am.”
That’s when he swings on me. I see it coming and smile the entire time, even when his fist smashes into my cheek, snapping my head back. The explosion of pain is exhilarating, making my ear ring.
I gasp out a breath, then laugh. “Mad as a box of frogs aren’t you? ‘Bout as useful as one too.”
This time, when he comes at me, I duck. I don’t know much about fighting. I’ve never needed to. But now I’m mad, more mad than I’ve ever been. Because how dare he? How dare he? Being gay is such a non-issue.
Then we’re tussling. I get hit in the back and the stomach, and I take the opportunity to punch his nuts, then reach up and twist his nipples.
I’m not sure why I’m smiling, ‘cause I’m so mad I can’t see straight, but I am.
Right when I get the wind knocked out of me, someone else joins the fight.
I brace, covering my head, but the blur goes after the turd instead.
Thick strikes against flesh sound, and he lets out a few cries.
Then there are teachers who are yelling and pulling us apart. I’m still smiling, breathing heavily when I see who stepped in for me: Tyler Clark, my only other friend, a girl with shaved blonde hair. She’s grinning too, only hers looks like she’s actually happy. Knowing Tyler, she probably is.
She glances up at me, throwing me a wink. Then, we’re whisked away.
I get in trouble, we all do, although Tyler the least. When I see Tyler in detention after school, she doesn’t ask why I was fighting. I mean, we aren’t supposed to talk, but still. She just smiles at anyone who looks at us, biting at the air like a shark.
Finally, when I don't think anyone will overhear, I lean over and whisper, “He called Joshua a…” I don’t want to say the word because of the look on his face, and…it’s just wrong.
Tyler shakes her head at me and waves me off. Like she doesn’t care. She probably doesn’t; she just likes to fight.
I sigh, sitting back. This is my first time in detention.
Then, my phone buzzes. I pull it out, looking down, and my heart leaps in my chest. It’s Joshua.
Joshua: I can’t do this. I can’t be known like this, I’m sorry.
Joshua: Plz don’t talk to me anymore.
And like that, my world shatters. What? What does he mean he can’t do this?
Suddenly, it feels like the walls are closing in on me. How? How could he give up on me when I have so much love to give him? Why?
Then I remember how Dad looked at me, and my whole body locks up. It was like he hated me. Why? Is being gay so bad?
I drop my head in my hands, my chest feeling like it’s cracking open.
I must be a bad kid. A bad person.
Maybe the fight was bad enough to send me to the hospital. Maybe if I went, Dad would visit me there. He would be nice to me.
For a second, I’m caught up in the idea of Dad looking at me in my hospital bed with love, with tears streaming down his face, and apologizing for all he did.
I wish I had gotten hurt more. Wish he had broken my arm.
I milk that fantasy until the end of school, and neither of my parents calls the school back. I have to drive myself home with strict instructions for them to call.
Neither of them will.