Sara (2 page)

Not to mention having my own car.

It was about mid-July that everyone found out why he was spending so much time at the country club pool.

He'd told me that he liked the lifeguard working there, which I thought was great. He'd had this terrible on-again off-again thing with Laney Norton pretty much our whole junior year that made him miserable. After their disastrous prom date—which I'd had the misfortune to witness—he swore he was done with her for good.

I was pretty surprised to find out the lifeguard's name was Clark Murphy—and so was pretty much everyone else.

Glenn also took the opportunity to come out to the whole world on his Facebook page by announcing he and Clark were in a relationship.

“Glenn's still my best friend, Mom,” I replied, standing up and slipping my backpack over my shoulder. “You know that hasn't changed.”

She looked at me without expression for a minute before saying, “Good. I wouldn't want to think I hadn't raised you right.” She turned and walked back down to the kitchen.

I went out the front door and sat down in a rusty metal chair on the porch to wait for Glenn. Glenn always gave me a ride to school so I didn't have to ride the bus. He also had been driving me to football practice since two-a-days started. His dad had bought him the car for his sixteenth birthday. He even had a credit card for the gas. I took a deep breath and waited.

I'd never admit it in a million years to my mom—or anyone else, for that matter—but I still didn't know what to think about Glenn coming out. Not being comfortable with it made me feel like a jerk. I mean, he was still Glenn, right? I mean, I could understand why other kids might have a problem with it—for most of them Glenn was the first gay guy they'd known. But my mom's brother Drew was gay, so I had more experience with gay people than everyone else at school.

Of course, I hadn't seen Uncle Drew since I was in junior high. We'd gone out to Los Angeles to visit him—he actually worked at Disney Studios. He didn't have a boyfriend then, but he took us everywhere and he was really cool. He always sent me a fifty dollar bill on every birthday and at Christmas.

But with Glenn, I don't know, it was a little different. I mean, Uncle Drew and I had never slept in the same bed. Uncle Drew and I had never wrestled around. I didn't take communal showers with my uncle or change in front of him.

At least Glenn called me before he went public on Facebook—he wanted to tell me before he put it online for the whole world to see. I didn't know what to say, I was so shocked. I'd had no idea he was gay. I started to tell him he shouldn't do it. But I couldn't think of how to say it without sounding like an asshole.

And I couldn't stop wondering about the other stuff—did he look at me when we showered after weightlifting? I hated myself for even wondering about it—it was Glenn, my funny, smart friend who could always cheer me up and make me laugh. Through my shock I heard myself saying, “You have to do what's right for you, Glenn.”

“Thanks, Tony.” He let out a huge sigh of relief. “I was really worried you'd, you know, have a problem with it. I should have known better.”

“Yeah,” I heard myself reply.

“You're really the best, you know that?” He went on, “You know, you're more than just my friend. I think of you as a brother.”

I felt like a total jackass when I hung up the phone.

I stood by him when some of the kids started unfriending him and saying nasty stuff about him online. He was
still
Glenn. He was still my best friend. He hadn't stopped being funny and smart and a good guy.

I just wished he would have waited till after graduation, or when he started college. He'd already been accepted to the University of Kansas, which was a more accepting place than Kahola County. No one would care.

So why mess up our senior year when you didn't have to? My mom thought he should have waited—so did his dad. Mr. Lockhart supported him, of course—Mr. Lockhart would walk through fire for Glenn and not even think twice about it—but he confided in me.

“But that's Glenn,” he had added proudly. “He's not going to hide and act like he's ashamed when he isn't.”

I was proud of him too, even though I wasn't so happy about it. I know I couldn't have done it. I would have waited until I was long gone to Kansas City before I said a word to anyone about it.

I tried to not let him see how uncomfortable I was with the gay thing. I know it was wrong not to be completely accepting of my best friend, and I was ashamed of myself.

Logically I knew it didn't matter, but those feelings, those ugly horrible feelings, just wouldn't go away. I kept telling myself they would, but they were always there.

But I
was
getting used to changing in front of him, and using the communal showers after football practice. If I didn't think about it, I was okay. But every once in a while, I'd remember and get uncomfortable. I don't think I showed it, but I hated myself for feeling that way.

I wasn't the only one, either.

Most of the guys acted like nothing was different—but there were some who had a problem with him being in the locker room with us. They always waited for him to get dressed and leave before they'd change or get undressed or shower.

Some parents apparently complained to Coach Roberts about their sons and the locker room after football practice. I'd heard there was talk of getting him kicked off the football team.

But so far, nothing had come of it.

I found out because Coach Roberts pulled me into his office the first day of practice and talked to me about it.

“If anyone gives him any trouble, I want you to come to me, understood?” he'd said to me that afternoon in his office. “Be his friend, Tony.” He ran his hand over his balding head. “He's going to need his friends. This could get really ugly.”

I just nodded and didn't say anything.

As far as I knew, no one ever did or said anything to him. Coach Roberts ran a tight ship, and he'd toss you off the team in a heartbeat if he thought you were causing trouble. But every once in a while, I heard things—things said out of the side of the mouth, muttered so you couldn't really tell who said it—and the mean laughs afterward.

Like
fag
and
faggot
and
cocksucker.

That made my blood boil, but I never could be sure who said it.

If I had to guess, I'd pick Zack Zimmer and Randy Froelich.

Zack and I'd always been friends. He was a year behind us in school. His dad was the preacher at Blessed Lamb Church over in Carterville, and they had a farm just outside of town. When we were in junior high, Zack was the one who introduced me to smoking marijuana. It was right after my dad had left and I went through a bad patch. My grades went down, and I just didn't care about anything except getting high. I'd ride the bus over to Carterville after school with Zack, and we'd get high out in the hayloft of the barn behind their house. His mother would drive me home around suppertime, clicking her tongue and making appropriate noises over me. I never liked Mrs. Zimmer very much—she always smelled like powder and cheap perfume, and I knew she felt sorry for me. I'd heard her talking to Brother Zimmer once when they didn't know I could hear, and she called me “that poor fatherless boy, and you know the mother is just trash.” Zack and me, we kept hanging out until right before the end of our sophomore year, when Coach Roberts took me aside one day after weightlifting and told me I needed to straighten out. “You like playing on the football team, don't you?” he'd asked me, and I nodded. “I'm not accusing you of anything, but I know you're smarter than your grades would let on, and I think maybe hanging around with Zack Zimmer might not be the smartest thing for you to do.”

“It's not like I'm going to college or nothing,” I replied, not able to look him in the eye.

“It's not about going to college, Tony. It's about the kind of man you want to be.”

Zack never liked Glenn. Sometimes I wondered if the reason was because I'd started hanging out with him instead. Zack still smoked every chance he got—every once in a while he'd ask me to go get high with him during the school day—and I knew he got drunk every Saturday night, yet he somehow managed to be in church every Sunday morning.

It didn't help that Zack played the same position on the football team as Glenn—and Glenn was the starter.

Randy Froelich was the complete opposite of Zack. He was little Mr. Perfect. A straight A student, never drank nor smoked, all the teachers liked him, and every girl had a crush on him at one time or another. He and I had never liked each other much, even when we were kids. His whole family thought they were better than everyone else—Randy certainly did. All his brothers were athletes, his sisters were cheerleaders. They'd all been Homecoming royalty, too—and pretty much everyone was sure Randy was going to be king our senior year. He and Glenn had been friends, though—they'd been in the college prep classes together. But after the Facebook posting, Glenn told me Randy had unfriended him and hadn't spoken a word to him since.

That was the kind of chicken-shit thing I'd expect from Randy. Everyone else thought he was such a great guy—well, I
knew
better.

And now Glenn did, too.

That was something, I guess.

Glenn's Honda Civic turned off the Kahola Road, and I started walking down to the mailbox. He pulled up to a stop and rolled the passenger window down just as I reached the foot of the driveway. “Hey, you need a ride?” His eyes twinkled. He always said that—and still thought it was funny.

I opened the door and tossed my backpack into the backseat. “Yeah, that'd be nice.” I shut the door and buckled the seat belt as he backed into the driveway and turned around. “You nervous?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “What's the worst anyone can do? Call me names?” He looked over at me and winked. “I've gotten plenty of that already. Fuck 'em.”

I smiled back at him, but felt a knot forming in my stomach.

“Can you believe Clark dumped me last night?” he went on, taking the turn back onto the Kahola Road a lot faster than he should have.

I actually liked Clark when I met him. He was a tall, well-built guy with light brown curly hair and green eyes. He'd been on the swim team at Kahola High and left for college at Kansas State over the weekend.

“Can you believe that? Says we're going too fast, and he doesn't think we should be tied to each other, you know, since he's off at college.” Glenn went on, “Just means he doesn't want to feel guilty for messing around with those hot college boys.”

“That sucks.” I replied, not knowing what else to say, and hoping my discomfort with the subject didn't show.

“Guess I'll have to find someone else to take to Homecoming,” he commented. “Whatever, you know. It's not like I was in love with him or anything.” He looked out of the corner of his eyes as he stopped at a stop sign where we'd turn left to get to school.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be,” he said, turning after waiting for a rusty Ford pickup to go by. “I don't know, Tony. Maybe I was too impulsive about coming out, you know? Like my dad said, it probably would've been easier on me to wait till I was in college.” He shrugged as he accelerated. “I don't know. I'm not sorry, you know. It's nice to not have to pretend anymore, you know? It's nice being able to be
myself
, for a change.”

“Yeah.”

“Does talking about it make you uncomfortable?” he asked, giving me a worried look. “Tony, you don't know how much I appreciate you still being my friend.” He shook his head. “I had no idea people would be the way they are being. It just goes to show you.”

“Well, Randy Froelich has been an asshole for as long as I've known him.” I looked out the window. “He didn't surprise me in the least.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” The Civic reached the crest of the last hill before the school.

Southern Heights was a consolidated high school, drawing students from three little towns in south Kahola County. Glenn lived in the biggest of the three towns—Shawnee Falls, which was about seven miles south of Kahola, the county seat. The school was just outside the town I lived in and about three miles from the next town over, Carterville. There were a lot of farm and ranch kids at Southern Heights.

The school was painted this ugly pale green color Glenn described as the shade of lime Jell-o with milk in it. The front doors opened into a lobby area, with the bathroom directly opposite the doors. One wall was the trophy case, crammed full with trophies from past glories of dear old SHHS. There was a long hallway off to the lobby area where the lockers were wedged between the classroom doors. At the other end of the lobby was the gym, which had a stage for plays at one end. The school had been built in the 1950s when the school board decided to close all the small-town schools in the south part of Kahola County and build one main high school. Unfortunately, the school district ran out of money before it was completed, so the air-conditioning was dropped. It wouldn't have been a big deal but the building had been built with a central cooling system in mind. Each room had only two small windows that opened—and not all the way. The result was a lot of sweat and discomfort in August and September. Some of the teachers brought fans to try to make it more bearable. There were rumors every year that the school board had finally found the money—but it hadn't happened yet.