Home is a Fire (4 page)

That’s when I saw him, walking straight towards us. And suddenly, I could feel my sweat glands shooting jets of water under my arms, like a magical fountain in Las Vegas at midnight. But without the colored lights. At least, I hoped.

Luke Walcott. He had gone to school with Bammy and me. Captain of the football team. Captain of the track team. Captain of the swim team. Homecoming King, three years in a row.

Luke Walcott. Dirty blond hair, 6’2’’, blue eyes, and rugged jaw. A freakin’ walking GI Joe. Voted Most Athletic, Most Popular, and Best Looking guy of my high school class.

Luke. The ultimate dream man of every female student in school, and a few of the guys, too.

Fucking Luke. I hated him.

“Derek, do you remember Luke Walcott?” Bammy asked me. “Luke, I’m not sure you remember Derek Walter. Derek is joining us as our new theatre teacher, replacing Miss B. Luke is our head coach for football and track.” And she just stood there, smiling.

Did I remember Luke Walcott? Is she fucking kidding me?! Bammy, how have you suddenly forgotten entire chunks of our friendship? Has the vodka finally eaten your brain? Ah, yes. That’s right. I’ve been out of the game too long. We’re being “Southern.” We are ignoring the unfortunate moments in our youth that make it uncomfortable when meeting again as
adults. I had completely forgotten some of these games. It was high time I brought myself up to speed.

Well, yes Bammy, I do remember Luke Walcott. Unfortunately. How could I forget? He terrorized me, ever since he transferred here in eighth grade from Savannah. I remember the day he arrived as the new kid in class. Always the same. They start off nice, charming, and friendly to everyone. Making their way through the herd, calculating the best path to super stardom. Popularity is everything when you are twelve. Within a week, he was in with the jocks and cheerleaders. After a month, he was their king. By the time we were in high school, he was the supreme leader over everyone athletic and good-looking. One approving nod from him and you were golden. A smirk? You were toast.

And me?
Best. Toast. Ever
. Elbowed into lockers, tackled mercilessly during flag football, thrown into the showers fully clothed, all to the growing cheers of my fellow inmates. And not just once. Repeatedly.

It wasn’t because I was gay. No, we didn’t mention that. Kids are far too simplistic for that, actually. It was simply because I just didn’t fit in. I didn’t fit with the “fits,” and I didn’t fit with the “misfits.” And people like Luke Walcott demanded that the weak be devoured. Survival of the fittest, in action.

“Derek, was it?” he said. “Hi. Nice to see you. Welcome.” Luke extended his hand to shake mine. I froze for a second. All those years. All that torment, and here I am faced with the moment where I can finally say what I have been wanting to say to him for years. It’s not like I practiced it in a mirror about a million times, or anything, but here goes. Get ready, Luke. I
hope you’re prepared for this onslaught, because here it comes, Big Man on Campus!

“Nice to see you, as well,” I said and extended my hand, smiles all around.

Pardon me. Has anyone seen my balls? I seem to have misplaced them.

6

A high school cafeteria is the perfect setting for a reality show. And a shoot out.

Week one was over, and I was getting settled into my new role. Bammy and I carried our trays towards the teachers’ tables and found a spot near the end. It felt very strange to be sharing a space with so many of the blue hairs who had left their indelible prints on the psyche of my youth. Mrs. Miller’s fingers and tongue were still blue and green from the dry erase markers she used on the overhead projector in her geometry class. Good to see that some things haven’t changed. At all.

“How does it feel so far?” asked Bammy. “Weird, right? That’ll pass.” She was focused on deconstructing a slice of pizza from the school cafeteria, carefully pulling the cheese and pepperoni off the soggy bread underneath.

“I had forgotten how much fun it was to drink chocolate milk from one of these tiny cardboard boxes,’’ I said, trying desperately to open the spout without destroying the entire carton. These things are definitely not made for adult fingers and thumbs.

“So,” she ventured, “did I notice a bit of tension between you and Luke Walcott last week when we had our tour? What’s up with that?” She scooped some pizza cheese onto her fork and started eating, oblivious to the verbal dogs I was about to unleash.

“Bammy, are you kidding me?” I said. “That guy tortured me when we were kids. I had nightmares about coming to school, I was so freaked out about what his gang of followers would do to me.”

“Honestly,” she said, putting her fork down and reaching for her diet soda, “I don’t remember it being that bad. Yeah, kids are jerks, but are you sure you’re remembering it right?” She looked at me with raised eyebrows and took another sip.

“Bammy, you were much more popular than me. I mean, we were friends and all, but we kind of ran in different circles,” I said, frustrated that our memories could be so different. “You hung out with all those pretty girls and I was hanging with the drama geeks and band nerds. Maybe I didn’t confide in you as much back then,” I conceded, “but I’m not making up how it felt to see him again. I felt like a teenager, and I hated it.” I couldn’t be that angry with her. I loved Bammy, and I needed every friend I could get right now, but our memories on this subject were not agreeing.

“Mind if I join you?” The voice came from above. I looked up and saw Luke, decked out in his coach shorts and whistle, his pectoral muscles desperately trying to escape the confines of his Tennessee Volunteers t-shirt. My god, this man was… my enemy. Concentrate, Derek!

“Uh,” I stared at his chest and looked up into his stark blue eyes, unsure of what to say. Why is he here? Can’t he sit with the prison guards?

Bammy caught my gaze, wrinkled her brow and gave me that
what the hell is wrong with you?
look. “Not at all! Grab a seat,” she offered, trying to overcome my awkwardness and casting a firm
be nice!
glance my way.

“Great, thanks.” He grinned and took the seat next to me and placed his tray down: two cheeseburgers, a side salad and two cartons of whole milk. “So, how’s your first week been?” He looked over at me with the kind of smile that dentists place in ads on the subway to attract guys like me. And dimples. Did he always have these perfect dimples? I don’t remember those.

“Uh, fine.” I looked down at my salad, breaking eye contact. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to Luke Walcott. I speared a carrot stick and shoved it in my mouth, casually staring towards the windows, hoping in my mind that he would go away. How do I end up in these situations?

“I’m sure you’ll do great here,” he said, picking up a cheeseburger. “Miss B. is a tough act to follow, but the school could use some young blood.” He took a bite, then looked at me, thoughtfully. “Say, I’ve been wracking my brain, did we know each other in high school? When did you graduate?” His blue eyes looked straight at me, with no recognition.

My god. Is this really happening to me? Him, too? How could he possibly not remember me? Was I really so invisible in high school?

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered. “Well, we did know each other. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles, but yeah, we actually graduated together in the same class.” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I felt like one of those kidnap victims finally confronting his captor, years later.

“Really? Wow,” he said. “I mean, I kind of remember you doing plays and things, but I don’t think we actually spoke too much, if ever. Did we?”

“Not if you don’t count me screaming and begging for you to not throw me in the showers after gym class.” I did it. Be brave, Derek. Stand up for yourself!

“Wait, what?’’ he placed his cheeseburger down on his plate and focused his eyes intently upon me. He actually looked hurt, as if I had wounded him.

“Oh, come on, Luke,” I said, my anger cresting. “Don’t play that shit. Sorry, but this is a stupid charade. You were a total
dick
to me!” I lost it. “How could you possibly forget that? You tormented me!” I stared at him and I could tell I may have gone too far. Was I acting like a crazy man?

Luke looked at me as if I had just shot his favorite puppy. He raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. “Whoa. Listen, buddy… I don’t remember that. But really, I’m sorry if I was a jerk. Kids are stupid, and I definitely did a lot stupid things that I am not proud of. I got caught up in the popularity hustle. But if I did something to hurt you, well, I’m sorry, man. Really I am.” His words rang true, and I felt so confused.

My heart was pounding, my mind was racing, and no words were forming in my brain. I was staring at Luke, dumbfounded. How could something that was so traumatic to me be so inconsequential to him that he actually forgot it?

“Listen… I should probably get going,” said Luke, knowing when to cut and run. “We’re running extra practices leading up to the big Homecoming game. You two enjoy your lunch, now, hear?” And with that, he picked up his lunch and lumbered slowly towards the tray return. He didn’t look back, and I started to regret my outbreak.

“Whoa. Intense shit.” Bammy broke the silence. “You okay?”

“How many more classes until beer o’clock?” I asked. I’d just confronted a demon from my childhood, and it turns out that not only does he not remember being a demon, but he may actually not be a bad guy. Was the demon mainly in my head? Were my memories wrong? Did I blow it all out of proportion? I was so confused, I didn’t know what to think or feel or believe. I know that when I woke up this morning, Luke Walcott was the enemy. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

And damn. Those dimples.

■ ■ ■

The following week it was pouring rain as I stepped from the car and ran as fast I as could towards the doors of the school, hopping over puddles like a long jumper. The sun was shining brightly, but the skies were opening up above as if Noah himself should clearly take note. When I was a kid I loved rainy days in
the South. Mom and I used to sit on the front porch and watch the sky pour down over the neighborhood, listening to the thunderclouds as they retreated or advanced, counting the seconds between the booms of thunder and the flashes of lightning to determine the distance. I used to love to sit out in the street at the curb, legs splayed, the warm rain pouring over me like a bathtub on the pavement.

Today, I was just thinking about my shoes. Funny how our priorities change as we get older. And gayer.

The day passed without a Luke sighting. I had mixed emotions after our lunchroom confrontation the week before. Truthfully, I felt like an ass. I mean, I know that deep down I had the right to feel like I did, but maybe I should just get over it. We were kids. Perhaps I colored the memories, making him out to be much worse than he was? Did I just fixate on him? Why not the other guys who were involved? And he couldn’t possibly know what I was going through as a kid, dealing with my parents splitting up, my same sex attractions, my overall awkwardness.
Ugh
. It sucks being an adult.

Classes came and went without much thought. After years of working with the various theatre workshop kids in New York, this was a breeze. I had put up a flyer on the bulletin board, the school newspaper and our website for auditions for our first show. We were meeting today after school, in the theatre. Ready for the biggest cliché ever? I chose
Grease
as our fall musical. What can I say? Pre-questionable sexuality John Travolta still pushed all the right buttons for me.

I walked outside the main building and under the covered walkway towards the theatre. Imagine my surprise when
I unlocked the door to find that it was raining. Inside. On the stage! And no, this was not some exciting music video being filmed at our school.

“Oh, shit!” I said.

“
Ooooh
, Mr. Walter, just cussed!” Kids. Behind me, waiting to get in. I forgot there were kids present. Crap.

“Never mind me.
And just forget I said that
. What the heck? We can’t have auditions if it’s raining inside,” I said to them. I had no idea what to do, where to go. “I know you kids are excited and have prepared for this, but maybe we should postpone the auditions.”

“Well,” offered one of my students, “we could go over to the gym? There’s a piano over there, too.” Out of the mouths of babes. Brilliant!

“And that’s why they pay you the big bucks,” I said, quizzical looks all around. I needed to surround myself with a better audience. “Let’s go, kids.”

We made a quick pit stop in the office to alert Miss Mabel about the leak in the auditorium. She called Maintenance, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything right away, so I marched my merry band of misfits over to the gym, flung open the doors and
boom!
A football came flying towards me and landed in my arms, scooped up like a little baby.

Luke jogged over, sheepish grin on his face. “Hey, Mr. Walter. Sorry about that.” His hands were placed on his hips in the classic coach stance. “Nice catch, though! Where’d you learn to do that?”

“We’re not all Marcia Brady, you know,” I jeered, and tossed the pigskin back to him, with as much force as I could muster.
He caught it smoothly, of course, pulled it in, a slight smile on his face.

“I can see that. What can I do ya for?’’ he said. Does he always have to be so nice?

“Well, we were hoping to use the piano. The theatre seems to have sprung a leak, and we’re planning on auditioning for
Grease
, not
Singing in the Rain
. We thought maybe we could use the gym.” I peered around, but could see that my case was about to be dismissed. The floor was full of sweaty teens covered in shoulder pads and protective helmets, running from one end of the floor to the other.

“Ah, well, we had to bring practice inside today,” he explained. “The field became a mud swamp, and I can’t afford for any of my players to get injured before the big Homecoming game. We have to beat Billington, ya know.’’ That grin. White teeth. Those dimples. God, he is making it awfully hard to hate him.