eleven ;
b r o o k s

"DID YOU HEAR, REVEREND Ellis has used the funds from the church fundraiser to refurbish the pews?" Amanda cut a tiny sliver of food off her chicken strip and chewed it with dainty precision. "An ill-considered contribution, in my opinion."

"Yes, a wasted opportunity indeed. The funds could have gone to upgrading that terrible out of tune organ."

"Or perhaps, better hymn books? Our current ones are a tattered mess."

John Montgomery gave a short, serious nod. "Completely unacceptable."

Brooks gave his chicken a half-hearted poke with his fork and tried to muster up an appetite. It wasn't helping that the only thing he had to listen to over dinner was the dry discussion between his parents, which was almost as mind numbingly boring as Mrs Mulligan's chemistry lectures. At least it could be guaranteed that the food Inkeri made would never be as stale as the conversation at the Montgomery dinner table.

Even if they'd been talking about something interesting, and not lame church gossip, Brooks wouldn't have been able to focus on it. All he could think about was long dark lashes across tanned skin, cheeks flushed from the cold and maybe something more, the weight of warm lips on his - Brooks' knife skidded across the plate with a too loud scrape, earning him a pointed look from his mother. From across the table, Adam raised an eyebrow at him.

"Careful, darling," she said.

Brooks muttered, "Sorry, mother."

He'd already tuned out whatever she said next. As unforgettable as the memory of the kiss, it was also difficult to forget how quickly he'd bolted from the scene and how Hale had seemed on edge, which was never a good sign after locking lips. It could have just been over whatever happened with Elliot, or it could have been regret at what he'd done with Brooks. He desperately hoped it was the former, but the latter seemed more likely.

Hale had been drunk, after all. Alcohol made you do things you'd never do while sober. Brooks had no such excuse; he'd been painfully aware of every second of that night, from the first moment he saw Hale leaning against the wall of the club. His nerves weren't helped by the fact that he hadn't seen Hale since that Saturday. He hadn't been in school today, something Brooks tried and failed not to be worried about.

He couldn't have gotten into trouble over the incident at the club, because Will and all his other friends came in. None of them seemed particularly concerned or anxious, not even Elliot, who made his usual immature jokes as if he hadn't beaten someone up at the weekend. Hale hadn't even been at the club when the fight happened, so he couldn't have possibly been caught. Right? Brooks had no way of contacting Hale to find out, unless he actually wanted to approach Elliot about it.

Which he definitely didn't. Elliot Jones was the last person he wanted to talk to about Hale.

Okay, Brooks wasn't completely cut off. Maybe he didn't have his number but he could have easily messaged Hale on Facebook. He'd already wasted an hour after school sitting in front of his laptop, repeatedly typing and deleting countless messages he could have sent. The truth was, he was scared. He was scared Hale would reply that the kiss meant nothing, that it was all a big mistake, that he definitely wasn't gay and he was disgusted Brooks had even considered it.

"Brooklyn," John said, in his usual stern, no-nonsense tone. Brooks straightened up and tightened his grip on the cutlery, both instinctive gestures when his father addressed him. "It's incredibly rude to zone out in such an uncouth manner during family meals. And get your elbow off the table, we raised you with better manners than that."

Brooks quickly shifted his elbow off the table and murmured an apology. "Don't mumble, dear," Amanda said. "It's unbecoming."

"Sorry," Brooks said, in a louder voice. Adam smirked at him and Brooks resisted the urge to scowl back, knowing his parents would find a way to make him apologise for that too. All he ever did at these meals was pick at his food and apologise. He got scolded for "not eating in a dignified manner", too, so that was another thing to apologise for.

"Didn't you hear the wonderful news, honey?" Amanda beamed, casting a look towards Adam. "Your brother was given the title of headboy! Such a proud moment." Well, that explained why Adam looked like such a smug bastard. "Aren't you going to congratulate him, sweetheart?"

Brooks glanced at Adam, who raised his eyebrow in an expectant what-are-you-waiting-for expression. Brooks might have been actually happy for him if he wasn't such a self-entitled prick. That, and the fact his parents couldn't give less of a shit at any accomplishments he made, something he thought he would have gotten used to after years of being accustomed to it.

"Well done," Brooks told him, through gritted teeth.

"Of course, such an accomplishment is expected," John said archly. "The real disappointment would come if he hadn't received it. And how did your friend Mr Bishop do?"

"Reed? Oh, he didn't apply for the headboy role. He's already captain of the swim team, so he doesn't have any time."

"What a delightfully well-rounded young man," Amanda said approvingly, spearing another sliver of chicken, as if eating more than minuscule pieces would be too much for her stomach. "I always did like that Reed Bishop. Charming and respectable in all aspects."

Brooks stabbed a piece of broccoli and envisioned a certain smirking blonde-haired face on it. Evidently, his mother liked Reed far more than she liked her own son, which was bad enough in itself. If she was going to croon over another child she could have at least picked a nicer one.

"He's decent," John said gruffly, and coming from him, that was high praise from the heavens. "So, Adam. Tell us your plans for improving the Woodway education system with your new role of responsibility."

"Well, the food is not up to standard, so I'm thinking about adjusting the canteen..."

Adam rattled on at great length about the many issues and disasters the students had to face, a surprisingly extensive list considering Woodway was a private school and could easily buy off anything that they disagreed with. Brooks' own high school, Lexus, was decidedly worse off but no one gave a shit about the facilities or students as long as they left with semi-decent grades. His school wasn't that bad - at least they had a sixth form - but they certainly weren't top-ranked. Or even middle-ranked.

Brooks used to wonder why he went to the local comprehensive and his brother attended the state-of-the-art private school, but he knew better now. Adam was the perfect golden child with perfect golden friends, and Brooks was the forgotten second son where something had gone wrong. His parents seemed to realise early on he didn't fit into their pretty little family and didn't bother wasting money on his attendance at Woodway. And this was before they even knew he was gay.

Not that they were ever going to know. Brooks planned on taking that one to the grave.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced around the table, but his family were preoccupied on Adam and the heroic changes he would be bringing about as headboy. With a surreptitious look under the table, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and felt his heart drop at the message on the screen.

unknown :
we need to talk

Okay, stay calm, Brooks told himself, you don't even know who this is. There was no need to immediately jump to conclusions. Hale didn't even have his number. It was probably a wrong number, or...something else. Yeah, it must be something else. With trembling fingers, he typed out a reply.

brooks :
sorry, who is this?

The reply was almost instantaneous and exactly what he dreaded.

unknown :
right sorry, i forgot you don't have my number

unknown :
it's hale

Brooks bit down on his lip to stop himself from blurting out a panicked curse. His attempt at keeping a straight face obviously failed, because Adam narrowed his eyes at him in obvious suspicion. To ward off any unwanted questions, Brooks speared a strip of chicken and popped it in his mouth, chewing mechanically even though it tasted like cardboard. Adam rolled his eyes and thank God, looked away to boast about himself some more.

brooks :
oh hey

brooks :
how did you get my number??

unknown :
magic

brooks :
wow really

unknown :
nah calla gave it to me

unknown :
and don't worry i told her it was just for a chem project

Brooks frowned down at his phone. Why would he worry? Okay, Brooks knew why he would worry; he didn't want Calla getting the wrong idea about her best friend and crush, even though it was kind of the truth. But why would Hale worry? He'd only care if he wanted whatever happened between them to stay a secret, to cover it up as if nothing had happened, because he was embarrassed. Or even worse, he regretted it.

brooks :
okay good to know you're not a stalker

unknown :
that is always good to know

Brooks drummed his fingers nervously against the table, unsure what to say next. He knew he had to bring it back to the real reason Hale had texted him, the thing that had been bothering him for two days now, and it took him a couple of tries before he finally clicked send on his decided text.

brooks :
so...we need to talk

unknown :
tomorrow, at school?

brooks :
yeah okay

He chewed his lip and considered asking why he hadn't been in school today when Adam stepped on his foot under the table. Brooks opened his mouth to snap at him to knock it off, only to see Adam wasn't the only one looking at him; his parents were both watching him with varying expressions of disapproval. "Brooklyn, what could possibly be so fascinating about your lap?" his father demanded.

"Nothing," Brooks said. "I was just..." Texting. Yeah, right. He'd get his phone confiscated for a month if he was stupid enough to tell the truth. He carefully slipped it back into his pocket and forced a smile. "Just zoning out, sorry."

"I expect you missed me breaking the terrible news that recently came out," Amanda said stiffly. "Really, such a travesty."

Brooks was immediately wary. "What is it?"

"You remember the Lostock family, always sat at the front of the church during mass?" She raised a napkin to her eyes and dabbed lightly, as if the news was terrible enough to bring about tears. "Well, their eldest son, Peter...he decided to be...to be..."

"A homosexual," John said in a clipped tone, his pale eyes gleaming with unconcealed disgust. Brooks' blood turned to ice in his veins at the expression on his father's face, pure unadulterated hatred. "He declared himself a filthy homosexual."

Brooks gripped the sides of his chair to steady himself, hard enough to turn his knuckles white, and tried to force his expression into something neutral. He didn't think he was successful but luckily, no one was paying attention to him anymore.

"Really?" Adam looked surprised. "Huh. Didn't get that vibe off him."

"It's a blow on not just his family, who must be devastated, but the entire church community," Amanda said sadly, shaking her head as she carefully set down her cutlery. "One of those, hidden among us this entire time. I can't believe we've invited them round for dinner before, had that boy sat at our table. It'll be too late to cure him of the disease now."

"There is nothing to cure." John's voice was dangerously low, a telltale sign of barely suppressed rage simmering just below the surface. Brooks knew from firsthand experience that if anything pushed that fury even further to the breaking point, cruel words wouldn't be the only thing flying through the air. "It's a disease of the mind and the only way to destroy those is to change the thoughts they start with. It will - "

Brooks stood up so abruptly that his chair toppled to the floor. He didn't even know what he'd done until he heard the clatter of the chair on wood, and three pairs of eyes swivelled in his direction. All he knew was he had to get out of this room before he threw up, or even worse, one of them saw the truth he'd been guarding for so long written across his face. He'd never needed to keep it hidden as much as he did right now and yet he felt like his skin had been stripped back, revealing every vulnerability and truth.

"Sorry," Brooks said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded in contrast to the wild beating of his heart. "I don't feel very well. May I be excused?"

John scrutinised him with pursed lips in silence. His heart was pounding a furious rhythm against his chest, as if it was trying to break free of his ribcage, and he was certain everyone at the table could hear it. He knows, Brooks thought in horror, the blood draining from his face, he knows, he fucking knows -

"He is looking a little peaky," Amanda said, with a tiny little frown. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I was just as shocked as you to learn the truth about Peter. Anyone would be. He seemed like such a nice boy."

"Yeah," Brooks agreed weakly. He wasn't even lying anymore. Facing his father's judgement was making him so nervous he felt sick, like the few bites he'd managed to swallow were going to come straight back up. "Um, can I go? Please?"

"Fine." John flicked his fingers dismissively. "You may go."

He set the chair back on it's legs and left the dining room as quickly as humanly possible, short of actually breaking into a run. He bolted up the stairs and almost ran into Inkeri, who was dusting the banister while happily humming Finnish under her breath. "My apologies, I did not...Brooks?" Her kind face creased with concern. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Sorry," he added randomly, not quite sure why he said but glad he did anyway. He had something to apologise for. He just didn't know what exactly.

He brushed past her before she could press the issue any further, jumping the last few steps. He didn't slow down until he was in his bedroom, and the door was closed behind him, a pitiful attempt at blocking out the world. He dropped down on his bed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with only the consistent ticking of the clock to fill the silence. Each tick-tock sounded too impossibly loud.

Any lingering warmth from Hale's lips on his had completely disappeared, leaving only a hollow cold feeling in his chest. He knew his parents hated gay people. It was no secret, and it was something Brooks tried not to linger on. He hadn't expected it to feel like such a slap in the face hearing them vocalise their opinions, knowing those opinions applied to him if they ever learnt he was just as diseased and disgusting as Peter Lostock.

Brooks wished, not for the first time, that he could just like girls. He wished he could just be normal.

*

"What's wrong with you?" Hassan demanded. "You look like you're going to have an asthma attack."

It was a chilly Tuesday morning, and the two of them were perched on the high wall surrounding the science building, cradling overpriced Starbucks drinks in their hands. It was the same place they all met every morning before school began, the part of the wall sheltered from rain by the giant oak tree and overlooking the mossy green pond Lexus had, for some reason, wasted money on. Maybe they thought that investment would draw in prospective students.

Shame that the only thing students used it for was stealing the frogs that lived there, and setting them loose in school on year thirteen prank day.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Brooks said, a little indignantly. Why did everyone keep asking him that? Okay, he was a little edgy, and he kept glancing towards the gates in search of a familiar dark mop of hair, but he didn't think he was that transparent. He really needed to work on his poker face. "And no, I'm not going to have a asthma attack, Hassan. That's not how it works."

"Right." Hassan gave him his supremely unconvinced and unimpressed look. It was one that he used frequently. "You have your inhaler?"

"I'm not going to have an asthma attack!"

Hassan rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. Don't come crying to me when your airways are closing up and you can't breathe and your last dying thought is that you should have listened to me when I asked whether you have your inhaler.

"Uh...that's a little morbid."

"Yeah," Hassan agreed, looking a little pleased. "I try."

Brooks took a sip of his hot chocolate, marvelling the sweet rich scent that tasted like all the money he'd wasted on it, and flicked another look to the gates. Students were spilling through in floods of navy blue, but he didn't spot Hale anywhere among them. His stomach, which had been flipping somersaults since he woke up, couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not.

He wanted to see Hale, but he also didn't. Did that make sense? Nothing in Brooks felt made sense anymore.

"Where's Calla, anyway?" Brooks asked, in an attempt to distract himself. "Don't tell me she overslept again."

"I don't need to, because you know that's what happened," Hassan scoffed, downing the last few drops of his coffee. He eyed the empty cup and dumped it in the hands of a passing year seven, who looked too terrified at a sixth former acknowledging his presence to protest. "When does she not oversleep?"

Brooks didn't understand how Calla could possibly get to school after the two of them, forget being late, when she was the one with the car. She might as well donate it to him now that he was seventeen. On the off chance Adam strayed far enough from his rude indifference towards Brooks, he occasionally gave him a lift to school, but that was a very rare event. Most of the time he picked up Reed on the way, and Brooks would rather walk to hell and back then get in a car with him.

"She's going to be late," Brooks murmured, not really talking about Calla at all as he stared at the gates. Was he going to skip school again? He knew Lexus didn't give a shit about attendance, but surely the line had to be drawn somewhere. He finally had enough, and dug his phone out of the pocket of his coat.

"Brooks," Hassan said, as he typed out a text.

brooks :
where are you???

Brooks made a noncommittal, "Hm?" sound in response, not really paying attention as he stared intently at his phone.

"That girl. Do you think she's pretty?"

It was such an unexpected thing for Hassan to say that Brooks snapped his head up. "What?"

"That one," he said, pointing at a random girl walking past them. He wasn't even remotely subtle about it and the girl turned bright red. When Brooks and the girl just stared at him, he made an impatient gesture. "Well?"

Brooks felt his own face turning warm. "She's standing right there," Brooks hissed. The girl made a rude gesture, clearly taking his reply as an insult to her appearance, and stormed off. He watched her go in bafflement and rounded on Hassan. "What the hell was that about?"

Hassan was studying him with narrowed eyes, and the scrutiny was making Brooks very nervous. "No reason. Simple curiosity. You never answered the question," he added, and scanned the crowd surging around them before nodding at another girl chatting to her friends. Brooks was certain he'd never spoken to her before and that she was a complete stranger. "What about her? Think she's hot?"

"I, uh - what?" Brooks stared at him and wondered whether the barista had slipped something in his coffee. Calla was the strange one out of their trio. Hassan was the serious one who could scare grown men off with his glare alone. This was not the kind of thing Hassan asked him. "What's going on right now? Am I being pranked?" He peered into the branches above them for a hidden camera, just in case, and found nothing.

Hassan pinned him with a flat look. "Just answer the question."

"Sure, she's pretty, I guess," Brooks said uncertainly. "Am I allowed to ask why?"

"No," and without even waiting a beat, he added, "would you sleep with her?"

Brooks wished he'd taken a sip of his hot chocolate, so he could spit it out with dramatic incredulity the way they did in the movies. As it was, he settled with sputtering on air like an elderly citizen denied his dentures. "Have you lost your mind, Hassan?" Brooks said in disbelief. "Of course I wouldn't sleep with her!"

"Interesting," Hassan said thoughtfully, unaffected by his tone steadily increasing in pitch. "And why is that?"

"Because I don't know her!"

And I'm gay!

It was at that precise moment he spotted Hale, surrounded by his usual group of friends as they strolled into school with their usual I'm-cooler-than-you swagger. Brooks watched as Hale paused at the gates, scanning the masses of teenagers with furrowed brows until his dark gaze found Brooks. For a moment, they just stared at each other across the courtyard, and then Hale abruptly broke the eye contact by turning to Will.

"I have to go," Brooks said shakily, Hassan's brief moment of madness forgotten for the time being. He could figure out what that was about later. This couldn't wait. "I...I'll see you at lunch. Say hi to Calla for me."

He slipped down from the wall and clutched his hot chocolate so tightly he was surprised the styrofoam didn't crack beneath his fingers. Whatever Hassan said in response was lost to the loud chatter around them, and his own pounding heart. Here goes nothing, Brooks thought grimly, and made his way towards Hale.