Rainbow Boys (5 page)

there. His dad? He shuddered. His dad would kill him. A nd his mom had enough to deal with. Coach Cameron never talked with him, just bellowed. His counselor only talked about class schedules. His teachers were … just teachers. A nd his friends made fag jokes. Who else was there?

Kyle? No way. He still couldn’t believe he’d thought about Kyle while he was with Debra. Now it would feel too weird to talk to Kyle. But Kyle didn’t have to know what had happened. Why not Kyle? He could trust him. He hadn’t told anyone about his going to the meeting, and apparently he’d persuaded Nelson to keep his mouth shut. Kyle was okay. If Jason ever did make it with another guy—not that he ever would, he assured himself—but if he did, it would be with someone normal, like Kyle.

CHAPTER 5

Kyle and Nelson stayed after school on Tuesday to discuss the idea of a Gay-Straight A lliance with Ms. MacTraugh, the art teacher.

Everyone suspected she was gay. Students called her Miss Mack Truck or Big Mac. Once in class Jack Ransom tried to embarrass her by asking, “A re you a lesbian?”

Without even looking up from the clay in her hands, she fired back, “A re you?” No one ever asked again. Students loved her. She was always hauling a carload of kids somewhere—art museums, plays, music festivals. Students voted her Best Teacher every year, until hard-ass Mueller concocted a policy prohibiting anyone from being voted best anything for more than three years.

While Nelson and Kyle helped her clean up the day’s supplies, Nelson asked, “Will you be the group’s faculty adviser?” She shook the water off some brushes she’d rinsed. “I have no doubt students—and faculty—would benefit from the group. But not everyone will agree.” She gazed at him from behind round owl glasses. “You realize you’re bound to get opposition.” Nelson crossed his arms. “I don’t care.”

MacTraugh wiped her large hands on her paint-smeared smock. “The group will require Mr. Mueller’s approval. It may not be easy.

Yes, you can count on me. But it would help to have parents’ support too. Kyle? What about your parents?”

“Uh”—he glanced down—“they don’t know about me yet.”

Nelson rolled his eyes. “Earth to Kyle! Hel-lo! Your best friend’s the school fagola. Your mom and dad aren’t brainless.” Kyle hated when Nelson talked to him like that in front of other people.

MacTraugh patted Kyle on the shoulder. “Well, consider telling them. Believe me, it’s better your family find out from you than from someone else.”

Kyle thought about that as he and Nelson cut through the teachers’ parking lot toward home. A brisk autumn breeze whipped through his hair as they snaked between cars. He looked down to button his jacket, bumping into Nelson. “What’re you—?” He looked up.

Jack Ransom loomed in front of them, obstructing their path. “Hey, faggots.” Kyle’s heartbeat quickened. They were sandwiched between two cars. Instinctively he spun around. José Montero blocked them in from behind. They were trapped.

“Yo, Metal Mouth.” Jack walked toward Kyle. “Why you hang out with this green-haired faggot?” He knocked Kyle’s cap off his head. It spiraled onto the pavement. “You queer too?”

He leaned so close that Kyle could feel the heat of his breath.

Nelson picked up Kyle’s cap. “Jack, leave him alone.”

Jack slapped the cap out of Nelson’s hand. “What’re you going to do, scratch me with your pretty blue nails?” Nelson started for him, but José grabbed him from behind, pinning back his arms.

“Oww!” Nelson yelled. “Let me go, asshole!”

Kyle watched, feeling helpless. Jack turned back to him and shot his arms out, slapping Kyle’s chest. The force knocked him against the car. “I said, you queer too?”

The metal jabbed into Kyle’s back. His heart raced and he was trembling. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Nelson struggled against José. “Leave him alone.” He kicked backward, but José tightened his grip. “Oww!” Nelson shouted. “Cut it out.”

“Hey!” a voice called.

“Shit!” José let go of Nelson, as Mr. Mueller rushed up, spreading his arms between the boys.

“What’s going on?”

Nelson pointed to Jack. “They jumped us.”

“We did not!”

“Break it up,” said Mr. Mueller. “It’s after school hours. You’re supposed to be off the grounds.” Nelson sneered at Jack and José. “Fucking assholes!”

“That’s it.” Mueller grabbed Nelson by the jacket. “Come with me. You, too, Meeks.” Jack flailed his wrist. “Bye, Nelly. Bye, Kyle.” José puckered his lips and laughed.

Mueller whirled around to them. “You want to come too?”

Jack and José practically ran as they hurried away.

Kyle followed Nelson to Mueller’s office, angry at both of them—at Nelson for shooting off his stupid mouth and at Mueller for being so unfair. While Nelson argued that it wasn’t their fault, Mueller sat behind his huge desk pulling a rubber band between his fingers. “Nelson, I don’t want to hear it. If you’d just stop acting so …”

Nelson faked a yawn, making Mueller madder. “Can’t you just act normal!”

Nelson bit his lip, then blurted out, “We want to start a Gay-Straight A lliance.” Mueller’s face went blank. “What?”

Kyle thought Nelson must be crazy. This was totally the wrong time to bring this up. He tried to get his attention, but Nelson persisted:

“A club, where gay and straight students can talk.”

“A bout sex? Not in my school.”

Kyle racked his brain, trying to think of something to say.

“Not sex!” Nelson shot back at Mueller, almost yelling. “A bout homophobia. MacTraugh said she’d be our faculty adviser.” Mueller yelled over Nelson: “Ms. MacTraugh doesn’t run this school.” He stood up. “I said no!”

“Mr. Mueller?” Kyle raised his hand. “Excuse me, are you denying our right to start a club?” Mueller turned to him. For a moment Kyle doubted his nerve to continue, but somehow he managed. “Because if you are, I think you’re in violation of the First A mendment and the, uh, Federal Equal A ccess A ct.” In the silence that followed, he wondered: Had he really said that? Mueller and Nelson both stared at him. Then he saw an ever so slight smile creep across Nelson’s face as he turned to Mueller and said, “Can you give us the application for school clubs, please?” slight smile creep across Nelson’s face as he turned to Mueller and said, “Can you give us the application for school clubs, please?”

• • • • • • • • • •

A s they crossed the street, Nelson swung his arm around Kyle. “Way to go, dude! Where the hell did you pull that from?” Kyle shrugged, trying to calm down. “The Internet. We’re hardly the first people to start a GSA , you know. Besides, I had to say something with you two yelling at each other.”

Nelson pulled out a cigarette. “Now if you could just stand up to Jack and José like that.” Kyle glanced over his shoulder to make sure the goons weren’t following. “My heart’s still racing. I kept thinking, ‘Two days before I’m supposed to get my braces off, and that jerk screws up my teeth again.’ Imagine having to wear braces another three years.” Nelson exhaled a stream of smoke. “You can’t freeze up like that, Kyle. You’ve got to be ready to fight them. If they see you’re scared, you’re dead meat.”

“But I’ve never fought anyone.”

Nelson punched the air with his fists. “Fake it. You’re bigger than that little fleawart.” Kyle shook his head, unconvinced. “What good would it do? For every Jack Ransom, there’s ten more. He’s not the problem, homophobia’s the problem.”

“A nd you know what your problem is, Kyle? You’re too damn rational. I can just see you standing there while Jack punches you out, and you say, ‘That’s okay, Jack, you’re not the problem, homophobia’s the problem.’” Kyle slung his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “I just don’t think fighting him is going to change anything. I’m going to call his probation officer.”

Nelson tossed his cigarette aside. “What good will that do? You saw what happened with Mueller.” When they got to Kyle’s house, Nelson stirred up instant brownie mix.

Kyle pulled out the application for the school group. “A re you sure we should do this? Who’s going to come to the group with Jack Ransom around?”

Nelson slid the brownie tray into the oven. “He’s not going to stop us, Kyle. Especially after your little speech to Mueller. Now, shut up and write.”

Kyle read the application. “Purpose of the group?”

“To meet cute, sexy boys.”

“Will you get serious?”

Nelson tickled his ribs. “J.F.K., Kyle. Just fucking kidding. Loosen up. How about: to address the violence and fear gay people experience at school and to help promote tolerance.”

Kyle wrote that down. “Excellent! No way can they turn that down.”

Nelson peeked in the oven at the brownies. “Bet Mueller finds a way to wuss out.” They carried the brownies and milk to Kyle’s room. A fter they finished the application, Kyle walked over to the mirror and stared at his teeth. “What do you think he’ll say when he sees me without braces?”

Nelson peered into Kyle’s aquarium. “Who?”

“Jason, who do you think?”

Nelson sprinkled some fish food. “Oh. Him.”

“You think he’ll notice?” Kyle asked.

Nelson shrugged. “He’ll probably just grunt—that’s how jocks communicate. One grunt, he likes it. Two grunts—”

“Shut up.” Kyle noticed a zit on the left side of his chin. He squeezed some acne cream onto his finger and rubbed it into his face. “He says hi every time he sees me now. He didn’t before.”

“He probably has memory lapses. Sports injuries. Brain damage.”

Kyle threw the tube of cream at him. “Shut up, I told you.” He ducked as Nelson threw the cream back at him. “I wish I could talk to him more, but he’s always with someone.”

Nelson nodded. “Herd mentality.”

“If you don’t shut up,” Kyle said, “I’m not telling you any more about him.” Nelson ran to him and knelt down. “Oh, no, not that!” He clasped his hands together in supplication. “Hit me, beat me, call me a queen,” he screamed. “But don’t stop telling me about Jason!” In a dramatic gesture he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “I’d just die.” He spread his arms out as though crucified and then flung forward, wrapping himself around Kyle’s legs.

Kyle bent over to push him off. “You’re really a dick, you know that?”

Nelson clung tightly around Kyle’s ankles, tackling him onto the carpet, and they rolled around, each trying to pin the other, until Kyle climbed on top of Nelson and held down his wrists.

Nelson smiled. “See? You could beat up Jack Ransom.”

Kyle rolled off of him and retrieved his cap. He didn’t want to think about Jack Ransom. He lay back on the carpet, catching his breath and staring at his model of the starship Enterprise hanging from the ceiling. “Do you think he’ll ever come back to a meeting?”

“Huh?” Nelson rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Oh … we’re back to him.” He shrugged. “Who cares? Invite him. See what happens.”

Kyle turned to him as Nelson sat up.

“Don’t look at me that way. I’ll behave if he comes back.”

Kyle returned his gaze to the ceiling. “So, do you think he’d come if I asked him?” He folded his arms behind his head, and his T-shirt rose up across his midriff. He noticed Nelson staring at him. “What are you looking at?” He pulled his shirt down.

Nelson’s eyes darted away. “Nothing.” He got up and walked over to the mirror. “I’m thinking of getting an eyebrow ring. Only I can’t decide which side to get it on.” He already had three rings in his right ear and four in his left. A s he stared in the mirror he suddenly screeched.

Kyle sat up. “What’s wrong?”

Nelson frowned. “My roots are starting to show. Blond and green. Makes my hair look like layered Jell-O.” They studied for a while, until there was a tap on the door. Kyle’s mom, who had come home earlier, leaned in the doorway. “Supper’s nearly ready. Nelson, you want to join us?”

Nelson shook his head. “Thanks, but I better get home. It’s my turn to cook tonight.” A t dinner Kyle’s dad remarked, “His hair is green.”

“So?” Kyle crossed his arms. “Maybe I’ll dye my hair blue!”

His mom tugged her ear. “Honey”—she passed the potatoes to his dad—“Nelson’s a creative boy.” His dad held his hands up in defense. “It was only an observation. Forget I said anything. How was school today?”

“Fine.” Kyle thought about the GSA and what MacTraugh had said about telling his parents. But how could he come out to them?

Maybe after dessert. No, better after his calculus homework. Together he and his dad usually breezed through problems, but tonight neither of them could get the answer for one particular problem to jibe with the back of the book.

Kyle suggested they skip over it, but for nearly an hour his dad worked and reworked. Finally he tossed his pencil down. “I’ve gotten the same answer three times. The book must be wrong.”

“Dad, the book can’t be wrong.”

“Of course it can. The book’s wrong.”

Kyle sighed to himself. Come out to his dad? Not tonight. Not ever.