“What kind of crazy ideas?” Cam asked quickly. “I dunno,” I said. “They’re her ideas, not mine. It wasn’t
me
chasing
her
around the mall, was it?”
In the long pause that followed, I listened to Cam breathe. “No,” he said finally. “I guess it wasn’t. Look, I’m tired, and I’ve got a Physics test tomorrow. I’d better hit the sack.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, relieved. All this ducking around the truth was way too much work for my sick head. “See you at lunch tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow. If you’re not too sick. Bye.”
The phone went dead, and I lay for a while, holding it as I imagined Cam lying motionless in the darkness of his room, both hands above his waist until he fell asleep.
Overnight my cold improved, so when Mom pushed me to spend another day in bed, I told her I couldn’t afford to miss an algebra class right now because I had a major test later in the week. Since math had admittedly never been one of my priorities, she gave me a suspicious look but let me out the door, and I biked straight over to Joc’s place. The morning was dismal and gray, and after a few blocks a thick, burning sensation in my sinuses told me that my head cold hadn’t improved as much as I’d hoped. Worse than that, my thoughts were absolutely all over the place. What in the world was I going to say to Joc? Would she even be home? It wasn’t raining today, but she might have asked Dikker to pick her up again, like last Friday. Since grade nine, when she’d started going out with him, it had been an unspoken thing between us—I double-rode her to school every morning until the snow fell, and then Dikker started picking her up.
But maybe since Thursday afternoon, that had changed. And maybe, when I knocked on the door, Tim would make sure he answered it just so he could deliver that essential bit of information to my face.
As usual I was going into a funk and also as usual, I needn’t have bothered. Just as I pulled up to the curb, the Hersches’ front door flew open, and Joc came jogging across the lawn. In spite of the cold day her jacket was flapping open and her hair looked half-combed, as if I’d caught her in the middle of getting ready. But all she said as she slid onto the seat behind me was, “Boot it quick, before big brother gets his grumpy ass to the door.”
So I took off down the street, my whole mind glued to the fact that this morning her hands were barely touching me—just her fingertips, and those just enough to keep herself balanced. Several blocks went by with neither of us speaking. Finally I worked my way past the burning in my throat and croaked, “You weren’t in English on Friday.”
Half a block away the Dundurn Street bridge came into view, and then we were coasting over it and leaving it behind.
“No,” said Joc, her voice flat, and left it at that. “So...what did you do all weekend?” I asked.
Up ahead was the corner that would take us onto Diefenbaker Avenue. Reluctantly I veered around it.
“Nothing much,” said Joc.
“See Dikker?” I asked casually.
“Yup,” she said.
So it was as I’d thought—I’d completely misinterpreted her actions last Thursday, and she was as tight as ever with Dikker. And today she was being distant with me because she was afraid I wouldn’t get that. Well, unlike hot lips Sheila, I
did
get it. And, more than anything, I wanted Joc to know that I got it.
Coasting up to the bike racks, I braked and let her slide off behind me. Then, before she could take off for Dikker’s locker, I said, “Hey, what’re you doing at lunch?”
“Dunno,” she shrugged, her eyes flicking across mine. With a start I saw they were red-rimmed and heavy-looking, as if she’d been crying. Turning toward the Dief, she stood fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Dikker’s working on stage props,” she added, not looking at me. “And, well...I don’t want to.”
This was my chance, I thought, my heart quickening. Now was the moment to prove to her that I understood completely.
“Come sit with me and Cam in the cafeteria,” I said, smiling at her. “I promised I’d eat with him, but you can joi—”
Joc’s eyes cut across my face, almost startled-looking, and the words died on my lips. “Nah,” she said, looking away again. “Not today, Dyl. I mean, Cam’s okay most of the time, but his friends...”. With a shrug, she started toward the school.
“Okay, see you in English,” I called after her, fighting a wave of panic. Walking away casually was just Joc’s way of showing me that Tim had been wrong. No big deal, I understood that. I
got
it. I
wasn’t
a hot lips Sheila.
“Oh yeah,” said Joc, glancing back at me. “We’re starting a new book today, aren’t we?
1984
. I’m already halfway through it.”
Turning, she disappeared into the crowd.
The morning went by like thick glue. My head was so woozy it felt upside down, and all I wanted was to crawl into a dark hole and let the world go by. But that would have been a catastrophe. If I went home sick now, opting out of things for a few days, Joc was sure to grow even more distant. And there was no question—I had to see Cam as soon as possible. At the end of our phone call last night his voice had sounded so heavy, as if he was having second thoughts about us...as if he was ready to give up. He couldn’t give up, not now. Not when I was in the middle of this massive misunderstanding with Joc. I mean, what if I lost them
both
—the two most important people in my life—at the very same time? It couldn’t happen, it just
couldn’t
.
So in spite of the fact that my head cold was growing steadily worse, I sat through my morning classes, then headed to the cafeteria for lunch. To my surprise, as soon as he caught sight of me Cam broke into a smile and slid over to make room. And I was so relieved that at first I didn’t catch it, the change in the air. I don’t think Cam had gotten it either—the quick looks or the whispering between Rachel, Julie and Len. But then I was
doing my very best to occupy all his attention, leaning against him while he fed me one of his ham sandwiches. His mom made the best sandwiches, they were like an art form, but my cold was so bad I could barely taste anything.
“Hey, Dyl,” Len said casually as Cam offered me another bite. “I was talking to your brother earlier today.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, flicking my eyes across his. Right away the hair went up on the back of my neck. I mean, Len’s gaze was too focused, too intent. He was onto something.
“Yeah,” said Len, leaning forward, his eyes honing in. “We were talking in the hall by his locker, and he told me the title under the girl’s censor strip is
Foxfire
.”
It was instant flamethrower. I mean, I just wasn’t expecting the secret to get out now—the display had been up for weeks, and the questions and comments had pretty much died off. And with my head cold and everything, I had no strength to
think
. So there I was, stuck in the middle of absolute hell—flamethrower face, the power blush of power blushes. And there was no way to hide it, all that ugly red evidence shouting out its truth.
Beside me Cam stiffened, staring at my face. Julie let out a long low snicker.
Get a grip
, I thought.
Just fucking get a grip
. “Oh yeah?” I faltered, trying to nail Len with my eyes. But the damn things wouldn’t cooperate, just kept flitting here, there and everywhere.
Danny
, I thought savagely. When I got home that afternoon, I was going to murder him. He’d promised me, he’d
promised
.
“Yeah,” said Len, his voice casual, his eyes two killing points. “I mean, isn’t
Foxfire
a book about dykes?”
In the sudden silence everyone heard my quick intake of breath. “Not necessarily,” I stammered, trying to keep a grip. “Some of the characters might be, but at the end of the book at
least four of them get married. None of them ever have sex with each other, and—”
“Yeah, but they take off their shirts and rub boobs,” Julie said quickly. “That’s a dyke thing to do, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” agreed Rachel. “And they rent a house together, way off in the middle of nowhere. And they always attack men as their victims.”
“They went after
jerks
,” I protested. “So what if they were all men?”
“They were dykes,” interrupted Gary. “Even if they didn’t have sex with each other, they were thinking it.”
“It’s a book about justice,” I said hoarsely, my eyes skipping across their grinning faces. “And thinking for yourself.”
Desperate, I sounded desperate. Quietly, without speaking, Cam put down his sandwich and stared at it.
“So what if they were an all-girl gang?” I said, trying to ignore his silence. “They were just
people
trying to bring justice into the world. What’s wrong with that?”
“They were dykes, Dyl,” Len said evenly, erasing everything I’d just said with his tone. “And you put
Foxfire
between the girl’s legs. You could’ve put it anywhere—her hand or her foot, or in one of those little thought clouds floating around her head. But you put it right between her legs.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, my eyes skittering around the edge of his face. “So what?”
“Well, it’s kind of a dykish thing to do, isn’t it?” he said carefully. “I mean, for
you
to do?”
Our eyes locked, and I sat trapped in a dead stare with him. So here it was, finally, the accusation I’d been dreading for years. Heat deepened in my face, I was burning up with it—burning up with the shame, the ache, the need of
Foxfire
.
“I put it there,” I began, then stopped, searching for the right
thoughts, the right words,
anything
that would take the gloat out of Len’s eyes.
Abruptly Cam broke in. “Leave her alone,” he said, lifting his head and glaring at Len. “She can put whatever she wants between the girl’s legs, got it? It’s okay because I say it’s okay, and you’re going to drop it right now.”
He was flushed, his cheeks as red as mine, the pain all over his face. Stunned, everyone stared at him, and Len jerked slightly, as if struck. For a second I saw regret in his eyes, real regret.
“Okay, bud,” he said quickly. “If you say so.”
“I do,” said Cam, holding his gaze, “say so.”
“Then that’s the way it is,” said Len. Their gaze held for a few more seconds, and then Len broke it off, and everyone sat staring at the table.
“Hey, what did you think of the game yesterday?” Gary asked uneasily. “Roughriders plowed the Stampeders. I think they’ve got a good chance at the Cup.”
“Roughriders?” Len said quickly. “Nah. They’ll make the western final, but—”
Conversation kicked in, quick and relieved, smoothing things over. Beside me I felt Cam begin to relax, easing himself back into a normal state of affairs. Without looking at me, he moved his hand slowly over mine, took hold and squeezed gently—in front of everyone, just like that. Briefly conversation halted, and everyone’s gaze fixed on our hands. Then they started talking again while Cam and I sat silent and motionless, not looking at each other as it all went on around us.
Chapter Twenty
After lunch I biked straight home and crawled into bed. Then I lay there, sniffing the afternoon away while I counted the minutes and waited for Danny. When I finally heard him coming upstairs, I threw off the blankets and tore out of my room. Racing down the hall, I grabbed the front of his shirt and backed him into the nearest wall.
“You shit!” I hissed into his startled face. “You
told
. D’you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me?”
“Take it easy,” said Danny, fending me off. “I didn’t tell anyone until today. And that was only because they got my arm up behind my back.”
“They
what
?” I demanded, still hanging onto his shirt.
“They twisted my arm behind my back,” said Danny. Lifting his right hand, he waved it emphatically in my face. “
This
arm. I was at my locker and they were bugging me—Len, Gary and a few other guys. They kept asking what was under the censor strips and I kept ducking it. So they took a quick look down the hall to make sure no teachers were around, then put me in a headlock and got my arm up behind my back.” Danny grimaced. “I was shitting acid, it hurt so bad. I couldn’t write all morning.”
A deep, shocked feeling poured through me. “They hurt you?” I said, letting go of his shirt.
“It’s all right now,” Danny said hastily. “I can write and stuff. But that’s the only reason I told, honest. It
really
hurt. And someone kept jamming my head into Len’s crotch, saying I was a fag to keep a girl’s secrets, and—”
“Say
what
?” I interrupted, my jaw dropping.
“Yeah,” Danny shrugged. “Weird, eh? Then Len said he knew I wanted to eat his dick, and he was going to feed it to me real good.”
“Jeeeeeeezus,” I gasped, and for a long moment we just stared at each other. “Hey,” I said finally, “I’m sorry for going after you like that. I should’ve known something like this happened. I know you would never tell on me unless...”
My voice trailed off, and again we stood and stared at each other.
“Well,” Danny said. “At least now you know for sure.”
A flush hit me and I nodded. Danny was right—I should have known better. But before I could start working myself into one of my funks, he added, “The weirdest thing was the way kids looked at me after—kids who had lockers near mine and were watching. I mean, I’m no fag. They know that. But suddenly they were all looking at me as if I’d been hiding something from them.”
“That’s crazy,” I said angrily, trying to ignore his use of the word “fag.” “I can’t believe they would stand there and let those guys do that to you. I can’t believe Len and Gary...”
Again my voice trailed off as I saw the dubious look on Danny’s face. “Well,” I added slowly, “maybe I can. Len is a shit. I’ve always known that. Joc can’t stand him. Or Gary.”
“Yeah,” said Danny. “I guess Cam hangs around with them because they’re on the team.”
I nodded, then said, “Y’know, Danny—I’m so sick of them,
their stupid jokes and beer-and-belch stories. If you ever make the football team, don’t act like that, okay?”