Something Real (39 page)

“What’s Matt saying?”

Benny shakes his head. “It’s hard for him to get away to call me. His parents took his cell phone. We’re still together, but…”

He takes in a shuddering breath, and his shoulders shake from the tears he’s keeping bottled up inside. I rub his back while he silently cries—we’ve had to do this for each other too many times.

“Some of the guys from the football team have been posting shit about him on Facebook,” he says. “I don’t know how this will affect him getting on the team at USC.”

Matt was hoping to get an athletic scholarship—I wonder how many gay wide receivers there have been in the history of college football.

There’s a knock on the door, and Lexie™ pokes her head in. “Hey, Bon. Mom wants to talk to you.” She looks at Benny and walks into the room. “Bens, want some company?”

He looks up, and she draws a bottle of wine from behind her back.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good—” I start, but Benny reaches his hand out.

“I do.”

I know one of these days I’m going to have to tell Benny he might be a little like Dad in this respect, but I’m not stupid; now is not the time to stage an intervention with my brother. I kiss his cheek and stand up.

“Do you know what it’s about?” I ask.

Lex shakes her head. “Honestly, who freakin’ knows anymore?”

When I get to the kitchen table, Mom and Kirk are having an argument. Puma Guy is there, keeping his camera trained on them. Another guy I don’t recognize is holding the boom.

“—sure you didn’t let it slip?” Mom sees me and puts her hand up. “Never mind. We’ll talk about this later.”

Kirk swears under his breath and brushes past me on his way to the fridge. He pulls out a beer, pops the top, and hurls the cap into the sink. I feel like gloating—
is this what you wanted, Kirk? Isn’t fame fun?

“Bonnie™. How is he?” Mom’s still wearing the pantsuit she’d had on for
Good Morning LA
. She’s starting to look like a forty-year-old Barbie doll. I could be wrong, but I swear she’s gotten more Botox.

I cross my arms. “Not good.”

“Do you think he’ll talk to me?”

I shake my head. “No way.”

“But I don’t understand why he’s blaming
me
. It’s unfortunate that it happened this way, but it was bound to come out eventually. Isn’t it better? Now he doesn’t have to pretend anymore.”

My body starts tingling, my fight-or-flight response kicking in. I could run, like I always do, or I could take her on—right here, right now. Screw the cameras.

“
Unfortunate?
” I snarl. “Your son has just been outed in front of the whole world, and that’s the word you choose?”

Mom pales. “Bonnie™, I won’t tolerate this tone—”

“Guess what? I don’t care.” I smile, feeling slightly crazed. I’m a maniac, I’m out of control. “You know why he’s not talking to you? Because you just
sat there
. You let Kaye Gibbons push him, and you didn’t stand up for him. You didn’t protect him. I think you wanted this to happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told Kaye yourself.”

Kirk stomps toward me. “Young lady—”

“Oh, fuck off, Kirk.”

His hand flies up, like he’s gonna slap me.

I smile. “I’d love it if you did.”

His hand drops, and he gives me a look filled with pure hatred. I’m messing up his plans. He wanted the fame and the money, but all he’s getting is a televised nightmare. All hail the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. There’s no telling what anyone will do once a camera’s on them.

Mom’s voice pushes between us. “Bonnie™, go to your room.”

I throw the camera a
you saw that, right?
little glance. Then I turn on my heel, take the stairs two at a time, and get drunk in Benny’s bedroom.

When the bottle is empty and Lex has long since crashed, I put my hand on Benny’s shoulder.

“Bens. We have to fight back.”

He nods. “How?”

I think back to the class discussion we’d had in gov earlier this week. Schwartz had written the word
resistance
on the board and talked about Gandhi and Rosa Parks. He’d said the only way to fight the Big Brothers of the world was to be unafraid to put yourself on the line for what you believed in.
You have to take a risk
, he’d said,
or nothing will ever change.
It felt like he was talking to me.… Maybe he was.

When I speak, my voice is firm, resolute. “Let’s go on strike.”

*   *   *

Monday at school is brutal. I’d thought it was bad before, but now I feel like we’re animals at the zoo, everyone staring at us and nowhere to hide. There are no made-for-TV movie events, nothing as dramatic as Benny getting pushed up against a locker, but there are a lot of ugly looks thrown his way, especially from Matt’s team. Even my teachers are acting weird. Matt is nowhere to be seen—none of us have any classes with him, and Benny hasn’t been able to get ahold of him because of the cell phone issue with his parents. Now he’s not even sure if they’re still together. My heart twists when I see his face after fifth period. I realize with a start that I haven’t seen my usually happy-go-lucky brother smile in nearly a week. By the time we near the caf to grab lunch, we’ve slowed down to a crawl. Almost by mutual psychic agreement, we stop a few feet away from the wide double doors the rest of the school is streaming into.

“Dude, I don’t think I can go in there,” he says.

I think back to what Diane Le Shrink said to me about ditching. What the hell—it’s for a good cause.

“Let’s go to the Tower District. I’ll get you some gelato from Vicenti.”

“’Kay,” he mumbles. He doesn’t even look up as he turns toward the parking lot. His moping is giving Eeyore a run for his money. I, however, do not have my eyes on the ground. I stop. I blink. I grin.

Matt’s striding toward us up the hallway, wearing a bright red shirt with the words I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND on the front.

“Holy shit,” I say.

Benny looks up, then just stares at Matt, his mouth half open. Matt doesn’t stop as he nears; he grabs Benny’s face and kisses him with so much love, so much unrestrained passion, that I can’t help but blush. Then Tessa and Mer show up out of nowhere and start whooping and hollering. People gather around, some clapping and whistling, others looking on in disgust or shock. For a second, I clench my fists, ready to take on anyone who’s going to give them shit, but the whole hallway starts filling with cheers and good-natured catcalls. The haters are few and far between. Someone—I can’t tell who—yells “faggots,” but they’re drowned out by the crowd. Phone cameras flash, and for once, it doesn’t bother me. Because this
should
be front-page news.

Matt pulls away and kisses Benny’s nose. “Benton™ Andrew Baker, will you go to the winter formal with me?”

Benny’s smile is dazzling. He kisses Matt back.

“Is that a yes?” someone shouts.

Benny pulls away. “Yes!”

I don’t even know I’m crying until Patrick’s fingers gently sweep across my cheeks. I look up at him, and he smiles his Patrick smile, all crooked and mysterious. He doesn’t seem remotely surprised that my brother and his boyfriend have just made national headlines.

“Did you play any part in this?” I ask. His warm brown-gold eyes hold just a tad more mischief in them than usual.

He shrugs. “My dad’s friend owns a T-shirt shop.”

I throw my arms around him. “I love you so much,” I whisper.

He squeezes me tighter. “Damn. I knew I should have gotten one of those shirts in your size.”

I pull away. “What about Matt’s parents?”

Patrick sighs. “They suck. But Matt basically told them they’d better get used to having Ben in the family.”

“That’s pretty badass.” I watch Matt twirl Benny around, as if they are already on the dance floor. “What’d his parents say to that?”

“That they would pray for him to see his sin clearly.” Patrick smiles. “So Matt said he’d pray for them, too, that they would learn to love Ben as much as he does. Then he said he had to—and I quote—‘see a boy about a dance.’”

“Amen,” I murmur.

Lunch turns into a celebration—I’ve never seen Benny so happy. He’s glowing, lit up from within. After all those months of hiding how they feel about each other, the separate lunches, the rough-guy hand-slaps and what-up-bro’s instead of the gentle caresses they give each other now … I can already tell the weight of the world has been lifted off my brother’s shoulders.

“This is what life could be like without MetaReel,” I murmur, watching them. We’re outside on the quad, basking in the unseasonably warm weather.

Patrick wraps his arms around me, and I lean into him, my back against his chest. “We’re gonna have that, you know,” he says. “A life without MetaReel.”

I’m not sure if I shiver because of the way he nuzzles my neck or from the word
we.

“I know,” I say. And for the first time, I can actually see that life. It’s not so far away. Maybe only a few weeks away, if I can get up the courage to move out.

“After graduation, we can just … ride into the sunrise,” he says.

“The sunrise?”

His lips twitch. “If we ride into the sunset, we’d wind up in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Just my luck,” I mutter.

“Screw luck.” He leans down and gives me a spearmint-flavored kiss. “We’ll make our own.”

The last two classes of the day are impossible to concentrate in because I’m more convinced than ever that what Benny and I need is a little pièce de résistance to bring Chuck to his knees. Matt’s bravery was a big statement. We need something like that—we have to wake people up. Patrick and I pass notes back and forth all during gov about it, and I tell everyone to meet me in the gym after school for some strategizing.

Once there, I lay out my ideas.

“This is your influence, isn’t it?” Benny gives Patrick a pointed look, but Patrick holds up his hands.

“It was all her idea. I just supplied a few suggestions.”

“Whatever, Che Guevara,” Benny says. I don’t buy his grouchiness for a second. For one, he’s still beaming.

I can’t sit still, so I stand up and pace up and down the empty basketball court. After an hour in the stuffy space, I’ve already become immune to its scent of blood, sweat, and tears. Tessa is lying on the polished floor, her head resting on her backpack. Patrick is reclining against the bleachers, and Matt’s sitting next to Benny, holding his hand. Mer had to leave right after school for her NYU audition, which is unfortunate because I need some of her all-caps exuberance right now.

“This is probably illegal,” Benny says. “I mean, we can’t just destroy really expensive equipment and get away with it. Plus, Mom would murder us. It would be, like, the first homicide in the history of reality television. And it’ll be
live
. Children across the nation will be scarred for life.”

This Tuesday,
Baker’s Dozen
has its second live episode. We’ll be going back to LA for a special red carpet event: the annual Ultimate Reality™ Expo. This is where stars from reality TV flock to congratulate themselves on this year’s brain rot performances. Not only will our crew be there for the live episode, but so will all the major news networks and, of course, the Vultures.

“Sabotage during a live show is far more effective than sabotage that can end up on the cutting room floor,” I say. I’d been itching to slice through more camera cords for weeks now.

“I’m deeply concerned about having a criminal record,” says Benny.

“Chicken?” I ask.

“Um. Yes? I think it’s sane to be worried about vandalizing private property when someone’s recording your every move.”

Patrick drums his fingers against the bleachers absentmindedly, the dull thuds creating an impromptu percussion with the pen that Tessa taps against her thigh.

Tap, thud, tap, thud, thud.

“I think whatever you do, you should make sure to let the press know what’s going on,” Tessa says.

I hug my arms to my chest. “I really don’t want to be in the news more than I have to be.”

“But if you guys just pull pranks, people are going to think you’re doing it for the attention,” Matt counters.

“Says the man with the I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND T-shirt,” I say. He blushes, and Benny kisses his cheek.

“I agree with Matt and Tessa,” Patrick says. “I think you have to back it up with something. Otherwise, MetaReel’s just going to use it to sensationalize the show. No one will know why you’re doing what you’re doing.”

“Hell, no.” Benny hits his hand against the bleachers. “We are
not
doing those bastards any favors.”

We sit there, thinking and breathing resistance. The gym becomes so silent, it’s loud.
Loud.