151 Days (21 page)

Since I was not aware or conscious when this happened, I have no idea when it actually occurred. All I could remember was that I was halfway through my trig prep and the next minute my alarm was going off. I had fallen asleep in the middle of my cards and books, which got even more messed up as I tried to get up. I kept seeing something out of the corner of my eye, but whenever I tried to look at it, it’d move with me. It took me a few seconds of waking up to realize I had an index card plastered to my cheek.

I silently thanked God no one was around to capture that moment of genius and put the card with the rest of them.

My phone beeped, and I saw I had missed two calls and five texts from Brad, a new record even for me. I texted him back that I was getting in the shower and began to gather all the supplies up off my bed.

I looked down to see Brad’s reply text:
While you’re in the shower send pics!

That made me laugh as I stuffed my books and folders into my backpack. My cards were shuffled back into a neat pile, and I took a second to raise my arms over my head and stretch the last dregs of slumber out of my system. For a moment, my whole body felt like it was energized as I extended everything from my fingers to my toes.

And then fell face-first onto the bed as the exhaustion I was trying to con myself out of made even keeping my eyes open a chore. I swore I closed my eyes for only a second, but the next thing I knew my mom was knocking on my door, telling me Brad was outside waiting for me. I looked at my phone, and sure enough over thirty minutes had passed, and I was instantly late.

“Crap,” I said, jumping to my feet, shucking my shirt. “I’ll be right there.”

My mom laughed. “I’m sure he’ll wait for you.”

I didn’t even answer as she closed the door. I broke a new speed record changing my clothes and threw some water on my hair before I raced out the door. I opened the passenger-side door and tossed my backpack in the backseat. “Please tell me you closed your eyes,” he said.

I was barely aware I was closing the seat belt as I answered him. “I passed out around four, I think. That was the last time I saw.”

“What time is the test?” he asked me.

I felt my eyes begin to burn, and all I wanted to do was close them for hours. “Third period.”

“Then let’s go by Nancy’s, eat some, and get about a gallon of coffee in you. Because if you pass out during the test, I’m pretty sure that won’t improve your grade.”

I opened my mouth to argue but decided I just didn’t have the energy to bother. “Fine, sounds good.”

I honestly think I might have dozed off as we headed down East Avenue toward First Street. The car stopping woke me up, and I saw Brad looking at me with worried eyes.

We found a booth, and Brad ordered us enough food to feed a small country. Sitting still for more than thirty seconds without doing anything felt wrong, and I pulled my cards out of my hoodie. I didn’t even get a chance to arrange them before Brad reached over and took them out of my hands.

“Hey, I need those,” I protested.

He gave me a serious look from across the table. “You need to turn your brain off and relax for five minutes. You ever see
Bring it On
?” The question was so out of the blue, all I could do was shake my head. “Well, neither did I, but I heard there was a scene where they got to finals, and they were hearing some girls out on the lawn practicing. One of the girls opened the window and screamed out at them, ‘If you don’t have it yet, you don’t have it!’”

Brad likes the movie
Bring It On
, which is eighty-six minutes long. If Brad has three and a half hours of free time, how many times can Brad watch
Bring It On
before his boyfriend pukes all over him?

I’m not sure if he noticed my space out, but he explained, “Kyle, there is nothing you are going to learn in the next hour that you don’t already know. Just relax and enjoy breakfast, okay?”

I took a sip of water, desperately looking around for some coffee or ice tea. And then something clicked in my mind. “If you didn’t see the movie, how do you know what they said?”

Now he looked away and told me, “Drink your water.”

His reaction made me laugh, and I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Thank you,” I told him, which got him to look back at me. “I love you.” His face broke into a wide grin. “Even if you are like a thousand times gayer than me now for admitting that.”

He pulled his hand back and flipped me off.

As I laughed, I felt some of the exhaustion fade away. My day had just started.

I
MUST
have drank half a pitcher of iced tea with a pound of sugar to wake me up.

By the time we got to the student union, my sugar rush was just starting to kick in. I saw the proctor standing at the door, and my stomach suddenly clenched in anxiety.

Brad was behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and rubbed. “Okay, you got this. You are Kyle Stilleno. You own this test. I have complete faith in your superheroic brain.”

I turned around a little, surprised. “You do?”

“Hey, only one of us can look this good,” he said, giving me his
Zoolander
impression.

“Ah,” I said, grinning back. “The moneymaker, if I remember. And how much money has it made you now?”

He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “It scored me a superhero boyfriend, so I’m ahead in the game.”

I felt my entire body react and forced myself to ask, “You’ll be here when I get out?”

“I got a game today, remember?” Oh fuck. I had been so worried about this test, I had forgotten his schedule. They were away against… oh come on, Kyle… Archer! He had to see the confusion in my face because he added, “I won’t be back until tonight.”

I felt like an ass. Here he had been busting his ass to make sure I was all right, and I completely forgot about his thing. “I am a horrible boyfriend. All I’ve been stressing over is my test, and you have a winning streak….”

“And you have a test,” he said, putting a finger over my lips. “Go kick its ass, and I’ll call you when I get home.”

The proctor announced last call for the SAT.

I rushed in the door and turned around to give him a small wave. He was the last thing I saw as they closed the doors.

“Okay, Stilleno,” I said to myself. “You have him convinced you’re a genius. Time to prove it.”

I grabbed a seat and pulled my calculator and pencils out of my backpack.

I was on question fourteen of the first part when I realized something horrible.

I had just drunk a small lake worth of tea. I was most likely going to piss myself right here in the middle of the test.

My hand began to scribble faster as I crossed my legs under the desk.

B
Y
THE
time the test let out, it was lunch, and I was exhausted.

I know there is no way I could do what Brad does at practice every day, but I never let that get to me because I know he couldn’t do what I just did in that test. Though I had no empirical evidence to prove otherwise, I just knew in my bones I had crushed that test. There was nothing I came across that was foreign or unsolvable, and my response time was way faster than the last times I took it. I knew there was no way to be objective about it, but I just knew this was the last time I was going to see that test.

Sammy was waiting on the steps when I got out. She had a can of Pepsi waiting for me as she cheered for me as a conquering hero. Normally someone making this big a scene in public would have made me feel self-conscious, but this time it didn’t. I may not have thrown a ball farther or ran faster than someone else, but I damn well was smarter than a whole bunch of people. And that deserved a pat on the back.

And an entire Pepsi to keep me standing.

“So how did you do?” Sammy asked me as I sat down.

I wanted to scream that I fucking killed at the top of my lungs but instead went with a more muted, “I think I did all right.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “You did all right the last three times. You think you got what you were after?”

I smiled and nodded.

“I knew you could do it,” Sammy said, giving me a hug. “Hey, I need to ask you something—”

Before she could, Jennifer stomped up the steps and plopped down next to us. The dark cloud of her bad mood surrounded her like stink lines on Pigpen.

“Hey, I got you a Pepsi,” Sammy said to her, handing her a can.

She mumbled a thanks and drank half of it in one gulp.

“Thirsty much?” Sammy asked under her breath.

Jennifer looked pissed, but I wasn’t sure about what. “How was the test?” she asked me after a few seconds.

I sighed. “I don’t know. Between having to go to the bathroom every ten minutes and feeling guilty, I barely noticed the test.”

“Guilty?” she asked with a small smile. “Guilty about what?”

“I am a horrendous boyfriend, and I need to make it up to Brad.”

I expected her to ask about what, but instead she just shook her head and said, “Don’t worry about it. He’s more tired than sore. It’s not like he isn’t enjoying it.”

I paused as her words penetrated my exhausted mind. “Enjoying what?”

“The sex,” she answered, confused. “He told me that he was worn out and didn’t know how to bring it up to you. I’m impressed that he did.”

I could feel my face redden as my heart began to jackhammer under my skin. “Brad said what now?”

She fumbled and coughed. It was obvious that she was trying to find something else to say. Finally she just asked in the fakest tone I have ever heard, “I mean… what were you guys arguing about?”

I was tired as hell, so it took longer than it normally would have, but I got there. “Brad is enjoying what?” I asked, as pissed as I had ever been at someone besides my mom.

“Nothing,” she said lamely. “So how was the test?”

“You already asked that,” Sammy said from behind me.

I felt what little patience I had begin to fade with each word I spoke. “What did Brad tell you?”

She began to blab the same way you saw people in cop movies do when they were confronted with their lies. “He said he was worn out because you guys have been having sex all the time lately and that with the practice and the stress over the test he was just beat. But he said he was enjoying it.”

Of course he told her. Why wouldn’t he? Sure, it was just our sex life—why not tell anyone he could find about it? I wanted to scream, but of course, what good would that do? Brad wasn’t here, and if he was, he’d have the same stupid look on his face Jennifer did right now.

Sammy asked her in a shocked tone, “He told you that?”

“He’s my friend,” Jennifer snapped back at her. “We’ve slept together for God’s sake. It’s not like he’s sharing state secrets.”

I half stepped in front of Sammy, reminding Jennifer who she was actually arguing with. “He told you about our sex life? He complained to you about us having sex?”

I couldn’t tell if she was mad or upset or anything. It was like a mask had slammed down over her face, making her emotions impossible to read. “He was just talking, Kyle. It’s not the end of the world if your boyfriend wants to talk to someone about their life. It’s just what friends do.”

It was weak logic, so I decided to use it against her. “Do you like your nipples played with?”

She blinked twice and asked, “What?”

The second she hesitated, I pressed the point. “Do you like you nipples played with in bed? How important is foreplay? We’re friends, so it’s no big deal for you to share these things, right? Or it would be okay for Brad to tell me that stuff, right?”

I saw the hurt in her eyes, and I felt like shit. I was mad at Brad, but since she was in front of me, she got the anger.

“Ask him whatever you want, Kyle. He told me as a friend, and I am sure he didn’t think he was betraying a trust.” She knelt down to grab her stuff and turned to the both of us. “I have prom committee. Talk to you guys later.”

I wanted to say something to her, but honestly, I had nothing but more bile in my head.

“Kyle, I am so sorry,” Sammy said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

“Not as sorry as Brad is going to be.”

A
FTER
MY
last period, Jennifer pulled me aside and apologized thoroughly for even saying anything.

I tried to explain my thoughts, but after all the cramming for the test and lack of sleep, I just forgave her and said we could talk about it later. I walked home, going over in my mind what I was going to say to Brad. I couldn’t just explode at him like I had at Jennifer. I mean, he deserved to get yelled at, but if I was going to make my point, I needed to use actual words instead of just volume. Half an idea began to form by the time I walked into my room. I wanted to explore it, but I saw my bed and just fell face-first into it.

Time ceased to exist for me for a while.

My phone woke me up around nine.

It was Brad calling, and for half a second I almost picked it up. And then I remembered. I rejected the call and let it go to voice mail. I sat there waiting for the message to end, and every second I got madder and madder. This was typical Brad through and through. His discomfort was the only thing he thought about, not the fact that I might not want our sex life shared with other people or that maybe, just maybe, if he had a problem he should have talked to me. Nope, instead the only thing that mattered was what his problem was and how bad it was for him. The phone beeped, and I just deleted the voice mail.

I got up and still felt like shit but better shit than when I got home.

The hot water from the shower helped wake me up, but it did nothing to affect my mood. It was like a spiral of anger that just kept feeding off itself the more I thought about it. By the time I was drying off in my room, I was ready to scream at the top of my lungs. My phone rang again, and I saw Brad’s name across the screen.

I jammed the decline button and turned the phone off.

This had been a mistake, that much was clear. Brad and I couldn’t have been more different, and all this screwup had done was show me how different. We had been avoiding the real subject since we got together, and now it was staring me straight in the face.