Jerkbait (13 page)

24

E
ven though the old cinema never played movies anymore, it was rented out for occasions, like corporate parties or birthdays. We walked through the double front doors. The lobby was filled with students. I saw Heather and Durrell dancing in a large circle with some of the other juniors and seniors. No one ever danced as couples unless it was a slow song. Just circles: big circles, little circles. Keisha was dancing in the big circle.

I stood watching, not sure if I should interrupt when she looked my way. She waved and wove through the group to give me a hug. Her hair was pulled up and curled, held back by a tiara, and she wore a short, blue dress, which complemented her dark skin. In heels, she was about my height, maybe even a tiny bit taller. “I’m
so
glad you guys could come!”

“Thanks for inviting us.” I handed her a card with a gift certificate inside.

“Oh, Tristan, you didn’t need to do that. I mean, you already wrote me that amazing story.”

I shrugged and tried to play it off. “Well, I know. I mean, I just wanted to.”

Keisha grinned, then set the envelope on a table that had some other presents on it. Robbie quietly put down the wrapped notebook he bought her, trying to push it behind some of the larger gifts. Keisha noticed, but beamed anyway.

“Come on,” she said.
“I want to introduce you to some of my friends from out of state.” She linked her right arm with me and her left arm with Robbie before he’d have the chance to decline, and walked us across the lobby. Although there was a small group of students, one tall guy with a pink shirt and bright blue tie stood out. Robbie’s eyes widened. He tried to pull back, expression on his face saying it all.
Mayday, mayday! Send help and abandon ship!

“Tristan, Robbie, this is Kenny. Kenny, Robbie’s the guy I told you about.”

“Ooh, I see. Enchanted.”

I had to bite my tongue. Kenny was the living stereotype of camp. The type of guy you’d look at and think, “Rainbows and unicorns and lisps, oh my!” Keisha pushed Robbie toward him. I watched my twin reluctantly shake Kenny’s hand and turn his head toward the door as if he were plotting an escape route, but it was too late. Kenny started talking, hands wildly gesturing to accompany his words. Keisha tugged me away from them. I looked over my shoulder at Robbie, who gave me a death glare, while nodding and smiling fakely at Kenny as he tried to inch away.

“They could be really cute,” Keisha said. I smiled but didn’t have it in me to tell her that I doubted Robbie would be attracted to anyone
that
flamboyant. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of guy Robbie liked. It’s not like we talked about it or anything. I just assumed big men with muscle. Athletes, like the different Devils players in the posters on his walls. Like Adam Henrique, whom all the girls swooned over. Or maybe some sort of post-rock guy who also liked female piano rock musicians. Maybe sometime I’d ask him.

Across the empty cinema, Heather and Durrell were grinding in the circle of dancing students, occasionally making out as their bodies collided. PDA. Lovely.

Keisha asked,
“Does it bug you that they’re together?”

“No,” I lied. I didn’t want Keisha to think I was still into Heather, even if I still had some sort of attachment. But that attachment was slowly dissolving into hatred. “It bugs me that her personality did a one-eighty on me.” I took a deep breath. “I’m really surprised you invited us after all the drama and stuff, you know?”

“I always wanted you to come. Robbie, too,” she added quickly, not quite looking me in the eye. The bass from the DJ’s speakers was loud enough for the ground to vibrate beneath my feet. Keisha swayed a little from side to side, not quite enough to be dancing in place. “I know it’s kind of old and lame, but I love 90s music. Told the DJ to play as much as possible. Forget requests. Is that selfish of me?”

“It’s your birthday,” I said. “Besides, who doesn’t like 90s music?”

Keisha glanced toward the dance circle, and sighed with a closed-lipped smile. “They look like they’re having fun dancing.”

My confidence might have been destroyed by Heather, but at least I knew how to take a hint. “Let’s have fun then.” I tugged Keisha toward the group. People parted to let us in, the birthday girl was the queen. A few pulses of music, and I realized we were right across from Heather and Durrell. For a moment, Heather and I locked eyes. Immediately, I turned to face Keisha and rested my hands on her hips to keep her close and try to keep Heather out of my sight. Behind Keisha’s shoulder, Craig gave me a thumbs up before making out with some guy.

With each song, I got closer to Keisha. She really knew 90s music and sang along to everything, from Destiny’s Child’s “Jumpin’ Jumpin” to Crush’s “Jellyhead.” I was surprised I knew almost as many of the lyrics as she did. When we weren’t dancing or singing, we were laughing. I hadn’t had that much fun with a girl since Heather. Hadn’t really smiled since this mess with Robbie happened and our parents locked us away.

The music cut abruptly and the lights turned on. Was it the end of the night already? I was stock still, unsure
whether
I should pull away from Keisha or stay close to hide my tented pants.

Keisha took a step back and I hooked my thumbs in my pockets, pulling the fabric away from me, trying to think of boring things.

“You know,” Keisha said. “I’m really glad you came, Tristan. Robbie, too.”

“We should hang out more often. I mean, if you want.”

“Yeah. I would.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Durrell watching me. He looked confused.

I took a deep breath, then pressed my lips to Keisha’s cheek. “I’ll see you in school or on Facebook or something, yeah?”

Keisha looked dazed for a moment by the kiss, then grinned and nodded. “
How about both? And maybe outside of school, too?”

“It’s a date,” I said without thinking.

For a moment, I thought she might lean in and kiss me back, maybe with tongue, but she scooted away to wish her other guests goodbye.

I turned to the door, for a moment forgetting about my brother until I saw him standing near it, making
HELP ME
gestures while Kenny continued to flourish with his hands. I cut over to him and patted Kenny on the back. “Sorry to cut in, but I’ve gotta head back and I’m his ride.”

“Aww, that’s too bad.” Kenny grinned at Robbie. “I’ll add you on Facebook.”

“Right,” Robbie said between grit teeth. He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door. Beneath his breath, he hissed,
“Remind me to find out his last name so I can block him before he gets the chance to add me.”

“That bad?”

“He tried to talk me into watching
Glee
and
The New Normal.”

“The horror.”

“I know, right?
Then
he had the nerve to tell me that hockey was a barbaric, primitive sport until I said I played it. Then he magically had a change of heart. And get this, when I asked him who he’d hypothetically root for, do you know who he said? Do you?”

Even though I knew the answer, I said, “Winnipeg Jets?”

“What?
No. The jerk said he was totally a fan of the Rangers. You know how much I hate bandwagon New York fans? It’s one thing if he grew up liking them, had parents who actually saw them win their last Cup, but no excuses!”

“Oh, come on.”

“I could have overlooked the other issues, but that? That’s crossing the damn line.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Robbie gave me a hard shove as we walked into the cold night’s air. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, come on. You can’t say that someone liking a rival hockey team is a deal breaker.”

“Yes, I can!” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ever think about what would happen if you were drafted by the Rangers?”

Immediately, a look of horror crossed Robbie’s face. “You don’t think . . .”

“It could be payback.” I knew I was pushing it, but I was in too good of a mood to resist. “Devils drafted Matteau’s kid, Rangers draft—”

“
Ugh. I hate you, Tristan. I really do.”

Robbie shook his head crossly, but I kept smiling. How could I not? Keisha just made my night, no, my week even. Heather’s expression was priceless. I was in a great mood, and Robbie could deal with a few miserable hours. It was the least he owed me.

Mom was in the kitchen on her cellphone when we came in. “How was the party?” she asked, not looking up.

“Amazing,” I said without thinking about whether she really wanted an answer or not. Mom turned her body away. I guess she didn’t. At least not from me. I’m not sure why I blurted out, “Keisha was really stoked that I was there. Danced with her the whole night.”

Immediately, Mom whipped around. Her face lit up. I’d never seen an expression like this from her. Ever. “Who’s Keisha? Birthday girl?”

“Yeah. She’s this amazing girl in acting.” When Mom twitched a little, I added, “
Potential girlfriend. I mean, I hope. Nice, smart, beautiful—”

“Ugh,” Robbie said. “You’re going to make me barf.”

Mom laughed. A rare, genuine laugh. She actually stood up and ruffled my hair. I wanted to twist my body and embrace her, but that would’ve been too much. We might have grown up starved for touch, but I’d take what small endearments I could get. The glow soon faded when Mom asked, “What about you, Robbie? Any potential girlfriends?”

Robbie stiffened. “No.”

“Really?” Mom stepped away from me.
“Doesn’t seem fair that Tristan’s getting all the attention, although Keisha sounds great.”

“She
is
great,” I said.

But Mom wouldn’t stop. “I know you’ve been focused on the draft, but haven’t you noticed someone?”

To Mom, Robbie being gay would be even more crushing than if I was. If she seemed that insulted by me acting, I couldn’t imagine the rage if she knew about Robbie.

Robbie played with his fake lip piercing, like he was figuring out an excuse to take off. I felt a sudden pain in my chest, my lungs burning. Robbie’s face stayed blank, but his silent screams overflowed and leaked into me.

Something was wrong.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. What could I say, especially in front of Mom? Before I could think of something, Robbie cut me off, surprising me as he said, “
There’s sort of someone . . .” His voice trailed off into a nothingness.

Before she’d have the chance to ask more, Robbie hustled up the stairs, shoving past Dad as he came down.

“What’s with him?” Dad asked.

“Beats me,” I lied, eyeing the stairs. If I took off right then after Robbie, my parents would know something was up. “I was telling Mom about Keisha. She’s the girl whose party we went to.” I felt in my pocket for my cell and pulled it out. I flipped through the photos before awkwardly holding my phone out. Mom reached for it first, but Dad closed his hand around the phone. He gazed at the pictures and flipped through, nodding his head.

“She’s pretty,” he said, totally disinterested before handing the phone to Mom.

Mom’s finger hovered over the photos as she went through, the smile breaking with a hint of confusion.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Mom murmured. “She’s just . . . not what I expected. She seems nice. Good smile.”

“What’d you expect?” I asked.

“Just . . . something else.” Mom forced a smile then. “I’m glad you’re dating a girl though.”

A
girl. Not
that
girl. Or
Keisha.
But
a
girl. Like any woman would be better than a man in her eyes.

I took my phone back and walked up the stairs to Robbie’s room. He was already in pajamas sitting at his computer, weaving back and forth in the chair as he looked at the screen, headphones blasting. When he noticed me, he took his headphones off and hit pause. I was surprised that it wasn’t some female, piano rock musician he was listening to but some clashing beat with a distinctly male voice.

“Who are you listening to?”

“There’s this guy I’ve talked to a bit online,” he mumbled.

“That Jimmy guy?”

“Yeah. He sent me a link to his band’s demos. I think they’re pretty good.”

From what little I heard, they were pretty garbage.

“
How was it with Mom and Dad and the girlfriend interrogation?” Robbie asked.

“Mom got really weird after I showed her pictures.”

Robbie’s lower lip puffed out. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised.”

“Actually, I am.”

“It’s because she’s black.”

“Huh?”

Robbie shook his head.
“Seriously, have you seen Mom with any friends who weren’t waspy Stepford Wives?”

“No . . .” I murmured. “Durrell’s been over before. She’s never said anything about him.”

“He plays hockey. He’s great at it. And he’s on D, so I’m not competing with him for a roster spot,” he said. “She’s probably caught in the dilemma deciding which is worse, having a gay son, or having her white son date a black woman.”