Ch. 15

I wish I was strong enough to take Kyle's advice. I wish I was strong enough to stand up for myself and who I want to be with, but I am so used to hiding it's like my default. Want to avoid trouble in the hall? Walk quickly and anticipate movement. Want to avoid trouble in class? Keep your head down and mouth shut. Want to avoid trouble at home? Don't draw attention to yourself, especially if mom's boyfriends are around.

If what Kyle is saying is true, I wonder if everyone else in the class knows what's going on? It's almost too horrible to contemplate. Or is it? I mean I don't think anyone has really treated me any differently aside from the fact I'm avoiding everybody. What if my mom already knows? I mean if Kyle figured it out, maybe she has, too?

The thoughts bounce around in my head for quite some time. The night isn't particularly restful and the next few days at school are spent in quiet contemplation. Out of the corner of my eye, I

sneak peeks at Tom's profile, his curved jaw and pink lips, the fall of his dark hair in front of his shockingly blue eyes. I want him bad, so bad.

The feel of being in his arms was something so awakening it's like I've been asleep my whole life and he roused me from a terrible slumber, a mundane existence. But I'm not one for risks. I've been so careful my whole life, and look what happened to Tom when he took a chance at being true to himself. Is he really better in a group home baring the scars from the people who are supposed to love him most? Wouldn't he have been better waiting?

"Not too subtle there, 95," Kent hisses at me, tapping on my desk.

Oh god, I've been caught staring. I guess Kent knows now, too? I sink down in my chair and focus on the page in front of me, willing the colour in my cheeks to go away sometime this year.

"Break for lunch everyone," Mr. Sway calls out from his desk, where he's helping Jose with some sort of math calculation, turning people's attention away from my mortification. The sheet in front of me remains empty since I spent the time completely spaced out. I grab my page and race from the portable. I can't sit with them at lunch, I can't be trusted to eat without making a total fool of myself, I'm so completely unsettled. I opt to hide in the library yet again. Let's face it, it's what I'm good at.

....................................

Kyle slips me a sandwich after lunch when we head to the shop to finish off our bikes. I quickly eat it as we all walk through the halls and I keep my head low, staving off conversation. The bikes are all pretty much complete now, and tomorrow we are going to start on small local rides in the afternoons to test them out.

"So you missed seeing the jars, 95," Andi tells me, as she wheels her bike over to mine. "They were looking really good. I think they'll get more money this way than trying to hit up people for raffle tickets."

"Great," I respond without much feeling. I don't know what she wants from me.

"Look, I don't know what happened, but I am familiar with break-ups. If you need someone to talk to, and maybe some ice cream, I'm around," I can just imagine her with her pom-poms and a bunch of cheerleaders devouring a pint of Ben and Jerry's after some sort of cheer disaster.

Discomfort is dripping off me like I've been standing in a rainstorm. "Uh, thanks." I kick my feet at an imaginary dot on the floor until she wheels away. Fuck me, the whole bloody class knows.

........................................................

The bikes are actually half decent. I mean, I haven't ridden one in awhile and I have a totally sore ass from riding, but we manage to do five kilometres the first day we have them out, and there haven't been any disasters.

"Okay. Tomorrow we do them with packs. We're going to start on training with weights again," Ms. Francis informs us at the end of class.

I'm sweating like crazy, but so is everyone else, so I can't imagine how bad tomorrow will be. Looking around at the class, I see Tom's shirt clinging to his sweaty frame and I have to close my eyes to keep from drooling. God I wish... Shaking my head, I try to clear out the impure thoughts. I really can't take this.

I feel a burst panic and quickly leave the room. The bell's going to ring anyway.

"Justin, wait," Tom is chasing after me, running down the hall. I can hear his footsteps coming closer as my breaths heave from my chest and I slide down a locker to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Y-you have n-nothing to be s-sorry for," I gasp, head spinning.

"Yes, I do," he kneels in front of me, with one hand on my chin, tilting my head up to look at his face. His incredibly handsome face, his concerned blue eyes holding mine. "I was selfish. My choice to come out was my choice. I shouldn't be making that choice for you."

"You weren't. I'm sorry. What you said is completely right. I'm just a big fucking coward. I don't deserve to be with anyone, let alone someone like you." I try wrenching my face away from his stare. I just can't take him looking at me, I'm so ashamed of myself. "You're so fucking strong, and I'm just not."

"Stop it. Stop beating yourself up," Tom demands. "Look, just because I can't be your boyfriend, doesn't mean I can't be your friend."

"I just, I just..." I can't think of one good comeback aside from the fact that it's so freaking hard being around him when I want him so bad. I want his strength, his courage, and totally want his lips on mine again. "I'm sorry," I finish lamely. "You're totally correct. I'm an idiot."

"Would you stop with the self deprecating bull-shit, 95? You're smart, you're totally cute, and you're a decent person. Anyone would want to be your friend, me included. Now get up. We have a meeting with student council," Tom stands and offers me his hand to help me up.

I graciously take it and rise from my spot on the floor. "What do you mean we have a meeting?"

"That's what I told everyone, so don't make a liar out of me. Let's go."

I follow him towards the office and secretly inside I'm dancing...Tom called me cute.

.........................................................

"So this is a really great fund raiser!" Lauren exclaims, hopping around. I swear she's been mainlining coffee or sugar or something. "Tommy, Justin, I swear, the two of you are genius together. If you were in grade eleven, I'd make you join student council next year!"

"Uhh, thanks," I manage, just as Tom asks, "How much?"

"Well, we haven't counted the jars yet, and won't until next week, but we expect it's around a thousand dollars," she says while cracking her bubble gum.

I nearly choke and I can tell that Tom's having the same reaction. "That's fantastic! Which charity is in the lead?"

"Boys and Girls Club," Tom answers. "Or at least that's what it looks like. You'd know if you'd show up for lunch once in awhile." He gives me a glare.

I roll my eyes, "Fine. I'll be there tomorrow."

Lauren looks back and forth between the two of us, appraisingly. "Trouble in paradise, boys?"

"No," we answer in unison.

"Great. I'll need you both to help with the money on Wednesday, though. Okay?" She says it, but it's not really a question, more like a demand and dismissal from her domain.

........................................

The next day, I resolve to try and be normal again. After all, I am not the injured party, really, and it's not fair for people to think I am. Tom isn't a bad person, snarky and abrasive maybe, but smart and honest. Instead of being a complete ass, I make an effort to interact in class and sit with everyone at lunch. It hurts that I'm not sitting next to Tom, not sneaking little touches or anything, but it's okay, too, because I've made this choice—even if it's not the brave one.

Our ride with packs is exhausting, and once again my ass is completely sore. I have no idea how people in the Tour de France do this everyday for hundreds of kilometres. Still, our bikes hold up.

"Oh my god," declares Julia, pulling alongside me at a stop sign, breathing heavily. "If I don't lose weight doing this, there's no hope ever."

"No kidding." I take a moment to strip off my coat and stuff it into my pack, then look her up and down. "I'm sure you've lost weight, Julia."

Her whole face lights up, "Really?"

"Yes, really," and she has, "But you're already good looking."

"Thanks, 95. And I'm glad you're back to eating lunch with us again. We all missed you." She stresses the all, and I try not to flinch. Honestly, does everyone think they know my business? Rather than call her on it, I just grunt and move forward, pressing on through the rest of the ride.

"Okay, bikes look great. Now we have to start preparing for our trip." Mr. Sway informs us as we put our bikes back into the corner of the shop. "On Monday, we'll start with route planning and our pack lists. Otherwise, everyone go home and rest up. A soak in the tub can help with your sore glutes."

"What is a glute?" Nicole asks, tossing her hair.

"You know, gluteus maximus?" Kyle explains, as someone into body building knows.

"Huh?" Nicole still doesn't get it. She's obviously a poster child for braincell loss.

"Your ass," Tom specifies for her, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Nicole. You've seriously got to lay off the weed."

"Hey, not during school. I know the rules," she defends herself, rubbing her butt. I guess she's sore, too.

"Good," Ms. Francis says shaking her head. "Now on that note, leave." She points towards the door, then announces, "Ah, Justin can you stay back for a minute?"

Once the class files out, she and Mr. Sway are left and they give me a smile.

"We just wanted to thank you for getting back into it again," Mr. Sway starts.

"We were worried we were going to lose you there," Ms. Francis continues.

"I'm really sorry, I just had some stuff I had to work through. Plus I'm really trying to get some essays together for the scholarship applications like you suggested." I explain, grateful that I'm not in trouble. I really need this course.

"I know that Ms. Francis already told you this, but you will do great things once you leave here. If you need help with your applications, don't hesitate to let us know."

"I won't. Thanks for everything, really."

"Go. Have a good weekend," Mr Sway orders.

I don't. I spend my time in the public library. But I work on my essays and I think have a few good ones ready for Ms. Francis to read.