I’ve never been jealous over another dude – I never had a reason to be. And I didn’t wanna fucking admit it, but I was kinda jealous of that dumb-ass dude, Luke Block. B was looking at him the whole fucking time, looking at his dick and shit, getting hard and all that. Pissed me the fuck off. I shouldn’t give a fuck. I fucking broke up with B so I wouldn’t have to give a fuck. But now I realize that I do fucking care about him. I don’t know how that shit happened, but it did. I never thought I’d find myself ever liking a dude – and not just liking him, but like really fucking liking him. Now I fucked everything up and B doesn’t even want to talk to me.
At first I thought that was what I wanted. I wanted to go back to the way things used to be when I was just chilling to myself, free to do whatever I wanted with any body I wanted – but now that I got what I wanted, I see that it’s not what I wanted. I’m such a dumb-ass. I fucked up on the only good thing I had for me – I fucked up on the only person that really gave a damn about me. And now I wanted him back.
After detention, when B walked away from me when we were talking I got in my truck and went around to as many bus stops as I could find, seeing if he was there. I didn’t know which bus Brandon took to get home, which was the real fuckin problem. Twenty minutes later, I said fuck it and gave up. Even if I had saw him, he probably wouldn’t want to say shit to me anyway. I drove around for about an hour, no place to go. I really didn’t wanna go home, `cause I didn’t wanna see my fucking dad. If he said anymore shit to me about anything – if he looked at me the wrong way, or did anything to fucking piss me off like he usually did, I was gonna knock the shit outta him. The best way not to start shit with him was to not be at home.
I thought about going to Brandon’s house. He should’ve been home by then, I guessed. I drove about halfway to his house and turned right around in the other direction. I didn’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Instead I drove to the playground I took Brandon to that night when I told him that I didn’t wanna see him for a long time. I went over to that same tree where I held him and told him that I didn’t believe that love lasted forever.
Sitting there, against that tree, I thought about all the things I said to B, the way his face looked when I said all those things – how he looked so fuckin mad and disappointed and shit. I don’t know why I said all that shit I said to him that night. I didn’t even know if I believed most of the shit I said. I told B that I didn’t want him to take us being together so seriously, cause I didn’t want him to have all these expectations of me that I wasn’t gonna be able to live up to. He wanted me to be his boyfriend, to love him…My eyes kinda stung a little, and I forced myself not to let a fuckin tear come out of my eye. I leaned the back of my head against the tree trunk, looking up at the orange sky.
Of any of the times we’d been together, I wished B was with me right then at that moment. Part of the reason why I broke up with him was because I was afraid that if I really believed that he loved me like he said he did, then I would start to really trust him and then I’d find out that he was just fuckin with me, and that he didn’t love me at all. But I think he really did love me – and nobody’s ever loved me…well maybe my mom – but she’s dead. I never had somebody that was really into me, not just `cause of my face, or my body or bullshit like that, but just `cause they liked me. That night after I broke up with Brandon, I laid in bed that night, thinking about what he said to me on the swings: “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for the great person you are”.
I thought about that again so more as I sat under that big tree, watching the day slowly turn to night. I felt alone, and I had brought that loneliness on myself. B kept coming in my mind, and I kept thinking about what we would be doing if we hadn’t gotten into that stupid fight. Maybe we would’ve both been sitting under that tree together; maybe we would’ve been screwing or something. I don’t know. Just being with Brandon was better than being alone with myself. Again I thought about going over to B’s house and trying to talk to him about what I said before. Maybe he wouldn’t listen to a fucking thing I said – but then maybe he would. I thought about it for a good ten minutes and finally decided that I was gonna go over to his house.
I was fucking nervous the whole time when I was driving over to Brandon’s house. I just kept thinking that he was gonna slam the fuckin door in my face or something when he saw me. But I still wanted to try anyway. When I pulled up to B’s house, about five minutes later, I just stayed in my car for a long-ass time, just looking at his house. I was kinda afraid `cause I didn’t know if his mom was home. I didn’t know why I was so fucking nervous to begin with though. I’m usually never nervous when it comes to talking to people or whatever. Except Brandon wasn’t just any person. He was different.
Taking a deep breath, I got outta the truck and jogged across the street to B’s front door. I rang the doorbell and waited. Seemed like it took forever for somebody to come to the door, so I rang the doorbell again. I cracked my knuckles as I waited and held my breath. Brandon still didn’t come to the fucking door. I waited and waited, but he never came to the door.
“Fuck this shit,” I said, mad as fuck, and turned to walk away. That’s when I heard the door open up behind me and heard B’s voice:
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I turned around and all those nervousness I had before came right back. Brandon was standing halfway out the doorway. He was lookin at me with this cold-ass look in his eyes as though I was the last fucking thing that he wanted to see.
Trying to sound all confident and shit, I said, “Came to see you.”
“I don’t wanna see you,” Brandon answered. “I told you that already today.”
“Still some more things I wanna say to you though, B. I didn’t come over to fight with you or any of that bullshit. C’mon. At least for like five minutes or something.”
I could tell that B wasn’t really all too excited about talkin to me. He was still lookin at me like I was a monster. “I don’t want to talk to you, Chris.” Brandon went back inside of his house and closed the door, leaving me outside by myself in the cold. I thought about just sayin ‘fuck it’ and go back to my truck and take my ass home. But I didn’t wanna go home and go to bed tonight without thinking that there was something I could’ve done to make shit better between me and B. I went up to his door again and knocked.
From the other side of the door, I heard Brandon yell, “Go away, Chris. Leave me alone.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere until you come out here and fuckin talk to me.”
“What the hell do I need to talk to you about?” B screamed through the door. “Why should I go out there so you can say some more fucked up shit to me.”
“You know that’s not what I came here for, B.”
There was like a pause for a couple of seconds, and then finally Brandon jerked the door open again – hard that I thought the thing was gonna fuckin come off its hinges or something. He looked even more mad now then when he first came to the door. B still stayed inside of his house, not coming’ out to see me. “Come out here so I can talk to you.” I said. “Stop acting’ like a…” I was gonna say ‘bitch’ but I caught myself right in time. “Just come out here so I can talk to you. I told you, just for like five minutes. And then you can go back inside and never talk to me again if you don’t want to.”
B looked at me a little bit, like he was trying’ to see into my head or something. After a while, he stepped out of the house onto the porch, closing’ the door behind him. He took a seat on the porch steps in front of me. I sat right beside him. Now that I had gotten him to come outside, I really didn’t know what I wanted to say next. When I looked over at him, B was just staring’ at me, and he knew I was nervous and didn’t know what to say. His face kinda softened a little – he didn’t look so pissed off anymore which was a good thing to me. “What did you wanna say to me?” he asked.
I looked at him again. It had been a few days since I’d been that close to him; looking at his lips I thought about how long it had been since I last kissed him. He was the best kisser of any female or dude I’d ever kissed before and I missed that. “Just wanted to see you,” I guessed.
Brandon stood up. “If you don’t have anything to say to me, then I’m going back into the house.”
“No. Stay here with me.”
“What for, Chris? I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
“I thought the same thing. But I do.”
“I’m not gonna have sex with you tonight,” B said. “So if that’s what you came over here for, you can just go home and jack off. Or find somebody else -”
“Is that what you want me to do?” I asked. “Go fuck some other dude and forget about you?”
“You don’t owe me any loyalty, Chris. You can go out and do whatever it is that you think you wanna do.”
“Is that what you’re gonna do with Blockhead?” I asked. I remembered B staring at that dude, Luke, when we were in the showers. I started to feel that same anger all over again.
“What I do and don’t do with Luke is none of your fucking business,” B said.
“Go ahead and do whatever the fuck you wanna do with him,” I said, getting mad again. “I don’t give a fuck. You can go ahead and fuck him until your brains fucking come out your ears.”
“You never fucking get it, Chris. It’s not about sex. Yeah, Luke is good-looking and he has a nice body, but that doesn’t mean that I’m gonna fly to the moon over him. If I wanted to, I could have him, but I chose not to.”
“How come?” I asked.
Again, Brandon stared at me for a few seconds. “`Cause I knew you were gonna come over here.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to see me,” I said.
“I didn’t. That doesn’t mean I knew you weren’t going to come over here.” For the second time, B came up and sat beside me on the porch. I knew I had to be careful with whatever I said so that he didn’t get up and leave me again. For a while, we just sat there without making any noise. We just looked at the houses across the street with no lights on. The whole street was dark and quiet. I was waiting for B to say something and I think B was ready for me to say something but neither one of us said anything for a long time. And then B said, real quietly. “How come you don’t ever treat me the way you really want to?”
At some point in time I knew he was gonna ask me that question. I had been trying to figure out the answer to that question for a long time. “I don’t know,” I answered.
“You do know, Chris. Tell me.”
“What do you want me to say, B?”
“I want you to say how you really feel. Stop trying to act so fuckin unaffected by everything. You always act like nothing means anything to you.”
“You mean something to me,” I said. And that was true. He really did.
“How am I supposed to know that if none of your actions show me that?” Brandon asked. “Saying you care about me, and then treatin me like shit beneath your shoe doesn’t make me feel all good inside, Chris.”
I could feel my eyes start to sting again. I looked away from B so that he wouldn’t see the tear that might come down my eye. “It’s hard.”
“What’s hard?” Brandon questioned.
“Everythin is hard. Just fucking being alive is hard most time. I’ve never fuckin been with someone the way I was with you. I never was interested in someone that long. Nobody’s ever been interested in me that long. Sometimes that shit is kinda scary.” I shook my head. It was starting to get cold outside. I wanted to ask B if we could go inside of his house and finish talking, but I didn’t.
“Chris, relationships are always hard. Life is always hard. If it wasn’t hard, then it would be fake and boring and pointless. You can’t just give up on everything and everyone just `cause shit gets difficult sometimes. Being in a relationship isn’t just about fucking and all the other sappy shit you see in the movies – don’t chose to be alone when there’s someone out there that really wants you – that really cares about you.”
“You still love me?” I asked.
B looked away from me when he said that. I watched his face and realized just how good-looking he really was. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do. Tell me. Whatever the answer is, I can take it.”
“But I can’t take it,” Brandon whispered. “I can try to pretend that I don’t like you – I can wish to God that I hated you and never wanted to see you again. But the more I wish that, the more I wish you were with me like you are right now. I do love you, Chris. But right now, that’s not enough. Right now, being in love with you doesn’t make me feel anything but cold inside.”
My feelings were kinda hurt when he said that. I tried to fake it like I didn’t care what he just said, but I did. I stood up from the porch and began to walk down the stairs. “You’re leaving now?” B asked.
I kept my back facing him. “Yeah.”
“Maybe one day you’ll learn not to run away from the good things in your life,” B said.
Turning around, I asked, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means just what I said…and the next time you come over here – the next time you talk to me…I hope you have something important to tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, B.”
“Chris, you do know what I’m talking about.” And with that, B went into his house, leaving me alone for the second time, in the cold dark.
* * *
I still didn’t wanna go home, so I decided to go over to Billy’s house to see what he was up to. I was hoping that he might let me spend the night. His house was dark, except I saw a light coming from his room. I walked up to the door and knocked on the door. It took about five minutes before I got some kinda response. “Who’s there?” Billy asked from the other side of the door.
“Dude, open the fucking door. It’s me.”
“Green?” Billy unlocked the door and opened it up partway. He leaned out the door and I saw that he didn’t have a shirt on. “What are you doing here?”.
“Just came to see what your punk-ass was doing.” I tried to push the door open a little to get inside, but Billy wouldn’t budge.
“You should’ve told me you were coming over here,” Billy said. “Got somebody up in here.”
“Who?”
“Somebody,” Billy responded.
“Let me sleep on the couch or something. I don’t feel like going back to my house.”
“Go to whats-his-name’s house…Brandon.”
“Just came from there. He wouldn’t let me in.”
Billy shrugged. He shifted over a little bit so that I could see what he was ass-naked. “Who are you fucking up in there?”
“You fucking wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Billy said. “But let me get back to you later. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then Billy closed the door in my fucking face. That was the second fuckin time in one fuckin night that had happened to me and I was pissed the fuck off.
* * *
I slipped in my house quietly, hoping that my dad wouldn’t hear me come in. Everytime I came into my fuckin house, I always felt like I was walking into a fucking disaster site. Looked like somebody threw a fucking bomb in that place. The more I tried to clean up and make shit look decent, the more my dad would fuck the shit up again, so I gave up trying.
I went into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat, which was a fucking waste of time. The only thing I found in the fridge was a bag of bread with only two slices in it and a can of beer. I took both of them out and brought them to my room. It was almost eleven o’clock. I didn’t know I’d been gone for that long. My dad was probably gonna bust into my room and ask me where the fuck I’ve been – unless he hadn’t fucking blacked-out already from drinking so goddamn much. As long as he didn’t start shit with me, I was cool. I took off all my clothes except my underwear and climbed into my bed.
Drinking that beer, I thought about what B had told me earlier – about how loving me made him feel cold inside. What kinda shit is that about? If him loving me doesn’t make him feel good -then obviously he doesn’t give a fuck about me at all just like all those other goddamn motherfuckers. And Billy – that fucking asshole – he could fucking lick the hair on my balls for doing me like he did. Everybody could just fucking kiss my ass.
I crushed the beer can on my chest and tossed it somewhere. I took off my underwear and threw them on the other side of the room as well. My dick was kinda hard and I thought about jacking off, but I hated jacking off. I rather do the real fucking thing. I wanted to be with B; I wanted to feel his lips on the head of my dick, I wanted my tongue in his tight ass – I wanted my dick in his ass too. But it was more than just wanting to fuck B. I wanted him to be right beside me in my bed; I wanted him to be sleepin on my chest like he usually did. I really wanted shit to go back to the way they used to be.
I closed my eyes and visualized all the shit me and Brandon had done together, all the times we fucked, all the times we kissed, all the times we just stared at each other without saying a word. My dick started to rise again, making a tent under the blanket. I reached under the covers and clutched my dick tightly and started to yank on it. Spreading my legs wider, I rubbed my hand up and down my dick while I played with my balls. I ran my finger up my asscrack and then sniffed my fingers afterward. I loved the sweaty, funky smell of my own ass, but I liked the smell – and taste of B’s ass even more. I was really getting into it, yanking my shit faster and faster – and then my bedroom door busted open and my dad was standing there. I snatched my hand off my dick as fast as I could and brought the covers up higher so that he wouldn’t be able to see that I was naked.
My dad had that fucked up look on his face as he usually did. “Where the fuck were you? I’ve been looking for your ass all day!” he screamed. “And I come in here and you’re fucking jerkin off under the covers!” He took a step into my room.
“Get the fuck out and close the door!” I yelled back.
This made my dad so fucking mad that I thought he was about to fucking explode. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin to, boy! This is my fuckin house!” He walked up to the edge of my bed and in one easy motion, ripped the covers off of me and tossed them aside, leaving me ass-naked, covering my dick with my hands. “I want you fucking outta here now!” he yelled.
“What the fuck for?” I hollered. I stepped out of bed, still covering up my dick and pulled on my jeans. “Why the fuck are you always on me all the goddamn time?”
My dad stepped up to me. He had so much fucking anger in his eyes. I thought he was gonna fucking punch me out right there. “I want you outta here, `cause you don’t do a goddamn thing around here but piss me off. You don’t do shit at school – I keep getting all these fucking calls saying you got fucking detention for two weeks in a row for messing around with some faggot-ass boy. You don’t do shit here, you don’t have a fuckin job. All you fuckin do it is sit around on your ass and make my fucking life miserable!”
“You don’t fuckin need me to make your life miserable,” I said. “You’re doin a fucking good job on your own.”
He punched me right in the jaw. I expected it so the pain wasn’t as great as I thought it would be. I could’ve beat the shit outta him right there and then. But I knew if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop and one of us – maybe both of us – would end up dead. It wasn’t fuckin worth it. I didn’t want to be in that house any goddamn way. I bumped past my dad, found my duffel bag and started to pack as many clothes in there that I could fit. I didn’t know where the hell I was gonna go, but I sure as fuck wasn’t gonna be staying there any longer.
My dad followed me as I made my way to the front door. I opened the door and stepped out. Right as I was about to go to my truck, he said, “I don’t ever wanna see you again.” Maybe for some other son who heard their parent say they didn’t want to see them again, maybe that would fucking devastate them. But for me, I really, honestly, truthfully, did not give a fuck if I ever saw that asshole again in my life.
“Fuck you, you fucking dumb-ass bitch,” I screamed and ran to my truck. I got in and fucking charged down the street like a fucking maniac, driving blindly, not knowing where the fuck I was going – but not even really giving a fuck where I was going. As long as I was moving I didn’t give a fuck. There was nowhere left for me to go. There was nobody I could ask for fucking help – not Brandon, not Billy – I was fucking alone.
I parked on the side of some empty road and just fucking start bursting out crying. The last time I cried was when I was twelve at my mother’s funeral. And I fucking promised myself that I wouldn’t ever fucking cry again,whatever the reason was. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. I don’t know how long I was just sitting in my truck, crying like a little ass girl on the side of the road, but it must’ve been a long fuckin time. Finally, I stopped and started to drive again. I still didn’t know where I was going. But wherever the fuck it was, it had to be as far away from here as possible. I didn’t want to be anywhere that was close to my house, close to school, close to B – I just wanted to fucking get away from everybody and everything. I got on the freeway and just kept driving. It didn’t matter where I went – as long as I went as far as I could.

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“What are you doin here?” I looked at my mother incredulously as though I had never seen her before. I hadn’t really seen her in almost a week or more. She was sitting on the couch with a very stern expression on her face. I just stood there unable to really believe that she was sitting there. I hadn’t seen her car in the driveway or anywhere along the street – but at the same time, I really hadn’t been looking.
“This is my house, Brandon. I live here.” My mother said angrily. She looked over at Chris, the bitter look on her face only worsened. “And who are you?”
“Chris. ” For a moment, my mother didn’t say anything. And then she finally said very delicately while trying to keep a calm expression: “It’s nice to meet you Chris.. but now is not the best time for you to be here. I need to talk to Brandon alone.” My stomach was twisting in all kinds of knots and I could feel myself slowly becoming numb all over. Chris took a step backward, away from me, in the direction of the door.
“Alright,” he said politely. To me Chris said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, B.”
I didn’t answer, I just watched, angry and disappointed as Chris walked out of the door. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of his engine starting and I heard him drive away down the street. At that moment, I felt really alone.
“Sit.” my mother said, her voice sounding very cold.
Reluctantly, I sauntered over to the chair across from the couch where my mother sat. Her eyes were still had that ferocity in them that made me nervous. After about a two minute lapse of silence, my mother said, “I got a call from your Spanish teacher, Ms. Navarro just a few minutes before you came home. She told me that you were caught copying off someone else’s exam.”
It felt like my chest was caving in and I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t expected Ms. Navarro to call my home that soon, and I sure as hell didn’t expect my mother to be here to answer the phone. “She told me you were cheating off a boy named Christopher Green,” my mother continued. “That wouldn’t happen to be the name of the boy who just left here would it?”
Looking down at my shoes I replied, “Yes.”
“Since when do you cheat on tests, Brandon?”
“I…” I didn’t know what to say at all.
“This woman told me some other things involving you and this boy that really has me concerned,” my mother said. “You never told me that you’ve been having detention for practically the last three weeks. Your teacher told me you were suspended for three days for having sex in the classroom with this boy. What’s that about Brandon? Tell me, because I’m not really understanding why you’re having sex at school with a boy I didn’t even know existed until ten seconds ago.”
I still didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know.”
“Well you need to know quick, Brandon Newman. I’m very upset with you. Your teacher told me that both you and this boy should’ve been expelled by now. The only reason why you haven’t been is because you’re a good student. Brandon, send you to school so that you can get detention and get expelled. The only two things I’ve ever asked you to do, is be a good student and take care of the house when I’m not here. I trusted you to be responsible, to make good decisions and you’re not doing any of those things. How many times has that boy been over here?”
“I don’t know…a lot.”
My mother sighed deeply. “Your teacher says you have a week of detention starting tomorrow. If I were you, I would do whatever is that I needed to do so that you don’t have to do that detention. I don’t care whose ass you have to kiss to get out of it, but I want you to be here tomorrow afternoon before six o clock. Hopefully I’m making myself clear.”
“Sure,” I answered bored. I got up and started to go to my room.
“And I don’t want you being around that boy anymore.” It was just like she had just stabbed me in the stomach with a rusty knife or something.
“What?” I asked, obviously shocked.
“You heard what I said. That boy is causing you a lot of harm, and I don’t want him getting you into anymore trouble. Stay away from him, Brandon.”
“He’s my boyfriend.” I said defiantly. “I’ll see him whenever I want.” Before my mother could respond, I rushed into my bedroom and slammed the door shut. I landed heavily on my bed and peered out my bedroom window. Tears were trying to force themselves to fall from my eyes, but I didn’t allow them to. I had learned how not to cry long time ago and I wasn’t going to cry now, especially not over this. I wasn’t going to cry ever.
Chris came to mind, and I recalled how that past Saturday, we had spent most of the time in my bed, talking, thinking, fucking…I wanted him with me at that moment, and I was mad as hell with my mother for making Chris leave. She was wrong, Chris wasn’t causing me any harm. He used to, long time ago, but not anymore. And who gives a fuck about what Ms. Navarro has to say anyway? She doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know Chris. I wasn’t going to allow her, my mother, or anyone else to fuck up what I had with Chris.
Around ten o clock, I decided to call Chris to see what he was doing. It took seven rings for him to answer.“Hello?” Chris said.
“Chris, it’s me, Brandon.”
There was a brief second when Chris was completely silent, and then he said, “Oh. Hey.” His voice kinda sounded robotic, and I was getting the idea that he really didn’t want to talk to me.
“What are you doin?” I asked.
“Nothin,” Chris answered. He sounded very uninterested.
“Sorry bout what happened with my mother.”
“It’s cool,” Chris said. There was an awkward silence that lasted about half a minute and then Chris told me, “Listen B, I’m bout to get off the phone right now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” There was something strange in the way he said ‘tomorrow’ as though he were not telling me the truth.
“Why do you sound like that?” I questioned.
“Sound like what?”
“Like you don’t wanna talk to me,” I said. “Is there somethin wrong with you?”
“I rather not talk about this shit right now, B. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You keep sayin that. There is somethin wrong with you. Just tell me what it is.”
“Look,” Chris said, “I really gotta go now.” I was about to say something else but Chris clicked off before I could say anything. At first I really hadn’t believed that he hanged up on me like that. But then I heard the dial tone, and then later the mechanical voice of the telephone operator telling me to hang up the phone. My first thought was to call Chris right back and ask him what the fuck was wrong with him and why he was talking to me like I was really annoying him or something. But then I decided against it. If he was bothered, I didn’t want to bother him any more. So I just laid there in my bed, bored and alone.
Chris didn’t come to school the next day. I really hadn’t expected him to, especially from our phone conversation the previous night. When he didn’t show up to first period, I was hoping that he was just a little late and would be there in like fifteen minutes or somethin. But then the whole period went by and he didn’t show up. The same thing happened in second period. There was just a empty desk right across from me where Chris usually sat.
During the fifteen minute break, I went into the large, dim-lit, empty gym that smelled like boys’ gym socks and old basketballs, and I called Chris on my cell phone. His phone rang many times, but he never answered the phone. Finally his voice mail picked up and I left a message. “Hey, Chris, this is Brandon. I was just wonderin why you didn’t come to school today. But um…call me back or whatever… if you want to.” I hung up the phone. I turned around and gasped to see Mr. Wilson standing behind me, arms crossed over his chest, a very grim expression on his hard, attractive face.
“What are you doin in here, Newman?” Wilson asked. “You’re not supposed to be in the gym unsupervised.”
“…I was calling my mother…” I said nervously. ‘It’s the only place I could get good reception…” Mr. Wilson was aware that I was a bit intimidated by him and that made him smile.
“You’re not supposed to be in here, and you’re not supposed to be using cell phones on campus.,” he told me. “Hand it over to me.”
I didn’t make any effort to give anything to him. I had to show him that I wasn’t just some damn scared pushover that he could just punk around. Instead of giving my phone over to him I said, “I won’t use it on campus anymore. I’ll go outside the gates.” I started to walk past him, but Mr. Wilson shot out a hand and grabbed me by the waistband of my jeans and jerked me back over to him. He stared at me very coldly with his arctic-blue eyes.
“You think you’re so fuckin smart,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing up against my face. His hand never let go of my waistband. In fact his grip on me had tightened even more. He stepped a bit closer to me, almost close enough for me to hear his pulse. Wilson let go of my waistband, but he wasn’t finished touching me yet. His hand slid over the curve of my ass. I felt a tingle spread over the place where he touched me. I wanted to move, but it was like I couldn’t, it was like Wilson had me under some kind of spell and I was forced to just stand there, looking into his cold, alluring eyes, basically helpless to my actions. My dick got a hard a little, hard enough to make the front of my jeans poke out a little.
Wilson continued to rub my ass gently while still staring deeply into my eyes, never blinking. There wasn’t any sign of real emotion on his face, just that blank stare. But I knew what he was feeling: that he had control over me, that there was nothing I could do to stop him. He also knew that there was a part of me that didn’t want him to stop touching me, even though we both knew it was inappropriate. Mr. Wilson brought his hand around to my front and squeezed my dick through my jeans. This was all I needed to get fully hard. I looked around the empty gym, hoping that nobody would come in and see us. I looked down and saw the imprint of Wilson’s ten-inch cock hardening in his charcoal-colored slacks. I wanted to reach out and touch his dick to, but I didn’t allow myself.
Finally, the school bell rang, and I felt like the trance I was under broke. I pulled Mr. Wilson’s hand away from my dick. He gave me a taunting smirk and as he walked away, he said, “I’ll be seein you in detention.”
“I can’t come to detention today,” I said, finally getting some of my courage back. “there’s something important I got to do. I have to be home early…”
Without turning around, Wilson said, “That’s just more private time you have to make up with me.” And he walked briskly out of the gym.
* * *
I got home at a quarter past four in the afternoon. My mother was in the living room when watching Oprah when I returned. “Did you get everything straightened out with your teacher?” she asked, her eyes still on the screen.
“Yeah.” I lied.
“So that means no more detention, right?” my mother questioned.
Again, I said “Yeah.”
“Good,” she said.
My mother asked me no more questions so I went right to my room. I thought about calling Chris again, but I figured if he really wanted to talk to me, then he would call me. I stretched across my bed and went to sleep for a little whole. About a three hour and a half later, my cell phone rang. I jumped up, anticipating that it was Chris and I answered it on the second rang. “Hello?” I asked.
“It’s me,” Chris said. He sounded so glum.
“Hey. You wasn’t in school today. I missed you.” I probably shouldn’t have said that last part, but it was true.
“Yeah. Shit came up. Couldn’t go. Got your message. Are you doin somethin important right now?”
“Just sittin here lookin like an idiot,” I told him.
“Will your mom let you come out of the house on a school night?” Chris joked.
“I’m not twelve, Chris. I can go out anytime I want to.”
“Good,” Chris said. “Be outside in twenty minutes.” He hung up the phone. I got really excited, jumping out of my bed, putting on my shoes. I didn’t know what I was gonna say to my mother when she asked me where I was going. But all I knew was that I wasn’t going to stay in that house all night doing nothing. The living room was clear twenty minutes later, as I made my way to the front door. However, just as I was about to open the door, I heard my mother’s voice coming from the kitchen asking, “Where are you going, Brandon?”
“Just around,” I called back.
My mother emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands off with a cloth towel. “Around where?” she asked.
“The block,” I said, growing panicked.
“It’s almost eight o’ clock at night, what do you need to go walking around for? I hope you don’t plan on going to see that boy when I told you not to. I already told you how I felt about him.”
“And I already told you how I felt about him. He’s not a bad person.”
“Well how am I supposed to know that? You haven’t told me anything about this boy -”
“Stop calling him ‘boy’, his name is Chris. And how could I tell you about him? You’re never here. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing and the type of people I wanna be around. I don’t need you tellin me who I should and shouldn’t be with.”
“Brandon, I’m trying to watch out for you. This boy…Chris – whatever his name is, do you ‘really’ think that’s somebody you should be with?”
I opened the front door. “If you knew him the way I do, then you wouldn’t ask me that question.” As I was about to walk out, I said, “I’ll be back before eleven.” Just as I went outside, I saw Chris’ truck approaching. He stopped right in the middle of the street, in front of my house. I jogged around the truck and got inside on the passenger side. Chris pulled off, drove down the road a little bit until we were past my house, and parked along the curbside.
“Was your mom trippin?” Chris asked.
“Pretty much. But I’m not worried about her right now.” I looked over at Chris. He looked as beautiful as always, but there was something slightly different about him; he didn’t seem like his usual self. “Chris, is there somethin wrong with you?” I asked. If there was, I figured he wouldn’t tell me, but I wanted to at least try.
Chris didn’t say anything. He just shook his head.
It was getting dark really quickly. I looked on the clock on Chris’ dashboard and saw that it was past eight thirty. Chris saw me looking at the time and he asked, “You gotta be home by a certain time or somethin?”
“Told my mother I would be back before eleven.”
“Doesn’t give us much time,” Chris said softly. Looking at his face, I could tell there was definitely something wrong with him. I wish he would just tell me what it was, but I didn’t want to pressure him about it. To cover up the silence between us, Chris turned on the radio. “Where are we going?” I questioned.
“Where do you wanna go?” Chris asked back.
“Doesn’t really matter to me.” I leaned forward and kissed Chris gently on the lips. He didn’t seem too receptive to me. Usually he kissed me with such passion, but I felt like he wasn’t kissing me at all. I pulled away from Chris slowly, feeling a bit embarrassed and awkward. Chris just sat at the wheel for a while like he was thinking about something really important, and then he finally started to drive.
We ended up driving about ten blocks away. Chris took us to this playground that was next to my old elementary school. The playground was dark mostly, except for a few streetlights, and it was very isolated. “C’mon,” he said, opening his car door. I got of the truck too. We walked silently across a wide field of damp grass, then over some sand before coming to an empty swing set. Two swings sway back and forth gently, pushed by the wind, waiting for us to sit on them. Chris got on one of them, I got on the other. “I haven’t been on one of these things since I was like nine,” I told Chris.
Chris said, “Yeah…me either.” he sounded so melancholy.
“Tell me what’s wrong with you, Chris. You’re actin like somebody just died or somethin.”
“Just pissed,” he said.
“About what?”
“All the shit that’s been goin on lately.”
“Like what? What happened at school yesterday?”
“That and other shit,” Chris said. “. Can’t fuckin wait to move out of my house. My fuckin dad is always fucked up all the fuckin time. We got in a fight last night -”
“Like a fist fight?” I asked.
Chris only nodded.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m cool, B. It’s just a lotta bullshit that I don’t wanna talk about right now. All I know is, the next fuckin time he puts his hands on me, I’m gonna kill him.” What was scary was how serious he sounded. I really wanted to know what was going on, but I knew that whatever it was, Chris wasn’t going to tell me. He didn’t trust me enough to tell me, which really hurt me, probably as much as he was hurting now. “I’m just fuckin tired of everything and everybody right now.” I wanted to ask if everybody meant me but I didn’t. I reached over and touched his hand. It felt kinda cold. I didn’t want to same some lame shit like ‘That’s okay, it’ll be alright’ or ‘everything is going to be alright’ or some stupid shit like that.
Chris squeezed my hand tight and he started to warm up a little. “Sometimes I wish I could just go some where and never fuckin come back,” Chris said. “Everything in my life is so fuckin bullshit.” I wondered if he always felt this way or if it was just mainly tonight.
I finally got enough courage to say, “What about me? Are you tired of me, too?”
Chris looked over at me. Even though it was dark I could still see his face very clearly. “You’re just about the only thing in my fucked up life that I don’t hate. But…” Chris grip on my hand loosened a little. I was really starting to get concerned.
“But what?” I asked.
“Nothin,” Chris whispered.
“You’re not fucked up, Chris. No more than anybody else in this world is.”
Chris chuckled. “Then what the fuck am I?”
“Complicated, annoying, mean…and then you’re sensitive, deep, sexy as hell… and you’re really smart. I don’t think people really give you credit for the great person you are. I don’t think you give yourself credit for the great person you are. I think you put up this image of yourself, of how you want people to see you, but it’s not real. I do the exact same thing. It’s how we keep ourselves protected against a world that really doesn’t like us. But then it crushes you emotionally.”
“…I guess,” Chris said. “You didn’t have to get all Dr. Freud and shit.” Chris got up from the swing and stretched his arms above his head. He turned back to me and beckoned with his hand. “C’mon,” he said.
Slowly I got off the swing. My feet sank into the soft sand. “Where are we goin now?”
Chris took me by the hand and started to drag me along. I gave up any efforts to resist him. “Just come with me.” We walked across the field and stopped under a large tree, whose many branches bent down toward us, their leaves making little whispering sounds as the wind rushed past them. Chris sat down, his back against the trunk of the tree, I sat in front of him, my back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me. I felt warm and protected. Chris kissed my ear, making my body squirm in his hold. I looked up at the sky and was surprised to see that there were many stars in the sky, at least over three dozen, which from my experience is a rare thing. The night was quiet and peaceful. I rested my head on Chris’ shoulder; he held me tighter. “Sometimes I wish it was just stay like this forever,” I said.
“No such thing as forever,” Chris whispered.
I thought about what Scott Howard had said earlier that day on the bus, about how he thought that loving someone was supposed to last forever. But then he realized that it didn’t. Scott was only fifteen and he didn’t believe in love. I was seventeen and I believed in love–or at least I wanted to – I just didn’t know if it believed in me.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“`Cause it’s true,” was Chris’ simple answer. “And if you’re talkin bout relationships, then that shit definitely doesn’t last forever.” Chris sounded very sad when he said that.
“Well, my grandparents have been married for over thirty years and they still seem happy,” I said.
“That’s not everyone’s story, Brandon,” Chris responded.
“It could be ‘our’ story.” I knew I shouldn’t have said that. But I really wanted to say it, regardless of the consequences. I thought Chris was going to get defensive or tease me, but he didn’t say anything at all. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
“B, I don’t want you gettin too excited about…” I waited for Chris to go on, but he didn’t.
“You don’t want me gettin too excited about what?”
“Us,” Chris said flatly. “You know what I’m talkin about.”
“Chris, you’re just about the only thing I do excited about. It might make me sound kinda desperate, but nothin and nobody else makes me happy the way you do.”
“I just don’t want you to get all invested in all this shit…” Chris said. “I don’t want you to take it so seriously.”
I pulled away from Chris and turned around so that I could see his face. “What do you mean I shouldn’t take it seriously?”
“You keep talkin about ‘forever’ and shit like that. We’ve only been together for a couple of weeks. Don’t make it more than it really is.”
I couldn’t believe I was actually hearing this. Slowly I stood up. The air around me started to get really cold. I should’ve brought a jacket or somethin. “Why are you sayin all this to me? Why do you always go outta your fuckin way to hurt my feelings all the fuckin time?”
Chris just looked up at me nonchalantly as though he really didn’t care at all. “I’m just tellin you how I feel. You keep wantin me to be your boyfriend and that’s not what I want right now, B. I told you before, I just wanna chill and have fun without havin to worry about stupid stuff. I don’t want that kinda relationship right now.”
“What about all the things you said Saturday? You said you loved -”
“I never said a loved you,” Chris interrupted loudly. For some reason he looked around to see if someone had heard him. Of course they hadn’t because we were the only two people in the park. After Chris said that, I felt like my whole body had just went numb. “You’re the one that said you loved me,” Chris said.
“You said that you could love me one day,” I told him.
“Well, sorry, B. But that day isn’t today.” Chris said it so effortlessly as though there was no emotion coming from inside of him. “Do you know how fuckin hard it would be for me to love someone, Brandon? I’ve been fucked over by everyone I’ve ever known, mostly from my own fuckin family, so I’m really not all that anxious to get fucked over by you. I like you, I think you’re a cool dude, but you want me to give you somethin that I can’t give right now. I wouldn’t know how to give it to you, I wouldn’t know ‘what’ to give to you.”
“I’m just askin for you. I’m not askin for nothin else.”
Chris stood up. He leaned against the tree. “You say you love me, B. But I think you only see the parts of me that you wanna see. If you know what kinda person I really am, how fucked up things I’ve done -”
“I know what kinda fucked up things you’ve done, Chris. You’ve done them to me for four years. And yeah, I do love you, the good parts and the bad parts. There’s a lot of times I wish I didn’t like you at all. But I don’t wish that now. I can’t wish it.”
“But I just can’t do it, B. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Shadows covered Chris’ face, and I couldn’t see him as clear as I could before. “I just…” he stopped for a few moments. “I think we should just cool off for a while.” Those words were sharp enough to kill me. I didn’t understand how we had gotten to this conversation. Everything seemed to be moving so fast and nothing was making sense to me at all.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Chris said.
I could feel those tears coming back again. But once again I refused to let them fall. I was glad it was dark enough so that Chris couldn’t see the expression on my face. “Why did you let me think that you liked me? Just five minutes ago you said I was the only person you don’t hate. And now you’re sayin you don’t wanna be with me at all.”
“I did….I do like you, B.”
“No you don’t Chris, not really. I was just a convience for you. You never really cared.”
“Brandon, I do fuckin care about you!”
“So why are we havin this fuckin conversation then? You made me promise not to mess around with anybody else, and I haven’t because you didn’t want me to. I don’t believe in promises but I made one for you. I could’ve maybe started somethin with Jason Coleman, but I didn’t, because I wanted you, because I thought that you wanted me. But you didn’t want me to be with you only because you liked me so much, you just wanted to keep me to yourself because you a fuckin greedy ass, selfish bastard. You said that you don’t wanna love someone because you don’t wanna get fucked over. Well, goddammit, you’ve done nothin but fuck me over and I still love you anyway. But that’s not enough for you.”
Chris didn’t say anything.
“I thought you brought me here `cause you wanted to spend time with me, but you brought me here to tell me that you wanted to break up with me.”
“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” Chris said.
“Oh, because then you wouldn’t be able to see the expression on my face when you told me to fuck off.”
“It’s not like that, B.”
“I’m tired of liking people who don’t like me,” I said to Chris. “I’m tired of puttin effort into people just to get disappointed. It’s people like that make me hate every fuckin body. If you don’t wanna be with me…”
“Brandon, I didn’t say I didn’t want to be with you -” Chris said.
“Then what the fuck are you sayin Chris? Tell me, so I can know.”
“I think we should just let things settle for a while. We’ve been goin non-stop, spendin all this time together. I just think we need to be apart for a while,” Chris said. “Not forever, just for a little while. Just give me a little time.”
It sounded weird for Chris to say forever, especially since he said he didn’t believe in the idea of the word ‘forever’. “I don’t wanna wait around for you forever, Chris. I don’t wanna waste time waitin for you to realize that you want me. If you want me, you should want me now, not later. If not, then just forget the whole thing.”
“If that’s how you feel about it,” Chris said casually. “Fine with me.”
I felt my heart go cold. I turned in the direction of Chris’ truck. “I’m ready to go home now.”
We walked in thick silence to his truck. The ride home was even more torturous. We didn’t say one thing to each other. There was nothing I needed to say to Chris. And there was nothing I really wanted to hear from him. Five minutes later, Chris pulled up into my driveway. I opened the car door, and Chris said, “Brandon…” but he didn’t say anything else.
“What is it?” I asked.
Chris’ eyes looked really sad. “Nothin,” he said.
“No. Tell me what you were about to say.”
“…I can’t…” Chris said. It sounded like he was forcing himself not to cry.
“You’re such a fuckin coward.” Annoyed I climbed out of the truck, slammed the door shut, and went inside of my house. I didn’t hear Chris’ truck pull off down the street until a good five minutes later. My mother was sitting on the couch again, watching TV. When she saw me, she said, “I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
I walked over to the couch slowly and sat next to her. I felt like crying and my body felt weak, as though I didn’t have control over it. “What happened?” my mother asked. She actually sounded like a concerned mother and not a dictator for once. I gazed at the TV screen and rested my head on her shoulder. I couldn’t say anything. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“You were right,” I said a few minutes later. I hated to admit that. I didn’t want it to be true.
My mother didn’t ask me what I meant by that because she already knew. She didn’t say anything and I appreciated her silence. I just stared at the television screen, looking at the images but not really looking at them. Finally the tears came, and I thought they would never stop.

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