Kieran & Drew (4 page)

He was almost relieved when Mr. Trinder told him what his detention would be. Clearing out the art supply storage room for the next few weeks seemed to him to be getting off easy, considering his display of general mental illness earlier that morning. He’d been genuinely terrified that he’d have to do some sort of essay on art to read in front of the class. His relief was short-lived, however, when he actually
saw
the storage room.

It was a veritable
maze
. There were oil and watercolor paint supplies to separate. Shelves and shelves of unorganized works and sketch pads that needed filing by year and class. There were halfformed papier-mâché models that needed breaking down and canvas that needed to be stretched. This was a detention that would be ongoing, it seemed, for a while yet.

He was sorting through paint brushes that were stiff and practically fused together when he heard the storage room door creak open behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Mr. Trinder, but did a quick double take upon seeing Drew Anderson close the door behind him instead. Kieran turned around, gripping the paint brushes tightly with both hands.

“Hi,” Drew offered quietly, digging his hands into his pockets. “W-what are you doing here?”

Drew shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Art class was pretty brutal….”

“You’re… you’re not going to beat me up?”
“Why would I do that?”

Kieran flushed uncomfortably, letting his silence and averted eyes answer for him.

Drew had his answer. “So… that doodle thing, those were my initials, and yours?” he asked guardedly. “You like… have a
thing
for me, then?”

Kieran bit his lip, shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered.

 

“You don’t have to look like you’re gonna puke, you know. I’m not some homophobic dick.”

 

Kieran looked at him, feeling exposed in a way he never had before. “My face is still in one piece, so I guess not.”

Drew looked around the room, puffing out his cheeks and letting go of a deep breath in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. “I had to clear this place out once.”

“For far less humiliating reasons, I’m sure.” Kieran spoke hesitantly, perplexed as to whether his crush had been addressed or not.

Drew grinned. “I accidentally broke a window in the art department.” He strode over to one of the papier-mâché figures and, bending one of the arms, sent white flakes floating to the ground before abandoning it. “Had to break a load of these things up.”

“Did Mr. Trinder make you do it?”
“Yep.”
“So… that’s how you knew I’d be in here?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”

Kieran swallowed, bending the bristles on the brushes he held. “And you just came by to check I was alright?”

Drew looked at him a moment, shuffling his feet before shrugging slightly. “I… kinda wanted to let you know that if… if those were my initials, or whatever, then… you know, it’s cool.”

Kieran’s palms were sweating. “Cool? As in… cool you don’t care, or…?” He didn’t know why he let his sentence trail off like that; what other reason could there be?

“Just-just… whatever, you know? I don’t mind. It’s okay if you like me, or whatever.”

 

“Um. Okay, I guess?” He was more confused now than ever. “I mean I’m not going to tell anyone, if you were worried about that.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Thanks.”
“And you don’t have to avoid me, or anything.”
“I don’t make you feel uncomfortable, or weird?”

Drew shrugged. “No it’s… it’s flattering.” He tried for a jokey smile, but it fell flat.

While Kieran was relieved that he wasn’t having his ass handed to him, something wasn’t sitting quite right with him. It upset him a little that Drew knew about his crush now. It wasn’t his secret anymore, and any time Drew caught him looking, there would be no way to claim innocence. His one obsession didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. It was an exposed feeling.

“I thought you’d feel better knowing I was okay with everything?” Drew frowned.

 

“Oh, no, no, I am. I just….” Kieran lifted one shoulder in a shrug and gave a sad, lopsided smile. “I just feel so dumb.”

“You don’t have to feel that way,” Drew said, his tone more serious. “I don’t….” He hesitated, unsure of how to word what he wanted to say without hurting Kieran’s feelings. “I don’t think like the others. I don’t think you’re weird.”

Kieran swallowed, hating that Drew was shining a light on his obvious lack of friends, even if he was trying to be nice. “Thanks,” he said stiffly, folding his arms across his chest and hunching his shoulders as if he was cold.

“I
don’t
,” Drew reiterated, at a loss as to how he was making things worse.

 

“I get it. Thank you.”
Don’t feel sorry for me, don’t feel sorry for me.

Drew sighed, feeling like he’d somehow made things worse, and dug his hands back deep into his pockets. “Okay. So, um… how long do you have to do this?”

“Until it’s clear. May take a while, as you can see.”

 

“Looks like.” Drew rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, anyway, I have to get going. I’m meeting Matt, so….”

 

“Okay, see you around, then.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, see you around.” Drew turned and left the storage room, closing the door behind him.

Kieran groaned, feeling like an even bigger asshole and not even understanding why or what just happened. He suddenly couldn’t deal with this shit. If Mr. Trinder came by and found the storage room empty, fuck it, he could call Kieran’s dad or something, not that his dad would be home to pick up. He waited ten more minutes, figuring most people would have vacated the school grounds by then and he wouldn’t have to run into anyone else, and then headed home.

Fucking come on, college. He couldn’t wait to go. With no clear idea of what he wanted to do for a career, he figured a major in American Literature would suit him perfectly. He’d always liked English and reading; perhaps if he could learn to conform to “proper” punctuation he’d become a teacher, and then he could stand up for all the loner kids who had no one. His only stipulation was that it be a ways away from Florida. He was sure his dad wouldn’t give two shits anyhow. He’d probably just be glad to have him out of the house so he could bring his not-so-secret girlfriend home once in a while.

The house he’d lived in his entire life came into view, and he was surprised to see his dad’s car sitting out front. After such a horribly humiliating day, it really did make him miss the relationship he used to have with his father. In fact, a hug wouldn’t go amiss right about now, but ever since he’d become old enough to not require supervision or a sitter, his dad was always at the restaurant.

“Dad?” He called out cautiously. As if he didn’t quite believe he’d caught his elusive father at home. He walked into the living room just as his dad was finishing up a hushed telephone call. Probably with the girlfriend. He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Kier. You’re home a little late today, aren’t you?” “I was at the library.” He didn’t feel like being honest, and even if he was, it probably wouldn’t matter.

 

“Good to hear. Listen I’m heading off to the restaurant—” “What a shock,” Kieran muttered, surprised when his dad actually stopped and looked at him.

 

“Everything okay?” His dad frowned.

Kieran swallowed.
No dad, it’s not. I’m gay, I have no friends, you don’t hang out with me anymore, and a whole class full of kids laughed at me today and called me a freak. I am
not
okay.
“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“You sure? You can come to the restaurant if you like. I have to go over the books in my office but I could ask the chef to whip up something special for you.”

“No thanks.”

 

“You sure?” His father looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “The chef’s really settled in; he’s a master in that kitchen.” Kieran bit his lip, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously before asking: “Who was on the phone?”

 

His dad stood up a little straighter, shrugged slightly. “Just restaurant business, why?”

Kieran swallowed the disappointment he felt and headed into the kitchen. “I’ll just make myself a sandwich.” He opened the fridge, using it as an excuse to hide the letdown he felt and that was surely written all over his face. He missed the worried expression on his father’s face.

“Well, if you’re sure….”

 

“It’s fine. Go,” he said without even turning around as he put a sandwich together.

“Okay, well… I’ll probably be back late.”
“Like every night,” Kieran muttered.
“
Kier
…,” his dad said softly.

Suddenly feeling just a little too overwhelmed by the world of hurt sitting on his shoulders, Kieran took his hastily made sandwich, snagged up his backpack, and headed toward his room. “Night, Dad.”

He couldn’t eat his sandwich. He could only sit on his bed and take deep breaths, trying not to cry like the little faggot he felt like as he listened to his dad’s car come to life and reverse off the driveway.

Alone again.

He swiped angrily at his eyes with the heels of his hands. What was wrong with him? What was so terrible about him that nobody wanted to be around him? He toed off his sneakers and then lay down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. His dad didn’t care. He didn’t know where the fuck his mother was—in fact, he only knew what she looked like because he found a few old photographs once in his dad’s office. She must have seen it in him from the beginning. She must have seen something was not right with him and decided he wasn’t worth the time, so she just took off.

Well, it’d be his turn soon enough. He’d already applied for colleges as far away as Michigan, California, and Washington. He hadn’t told his dad yet, but seeing as his father hadn’t yet asked about his plans when it was already halfway through his senior year, he figured that, as usual, his dad didn’t care.

And what was up with the secret girlfriend?
Still
? He couldn’t figure out why his dad would think he’d be pissed at him for actually moving on finally and finding himself a girlfriend, so he could only conclude that he just didn’t want Kieran involved with that part of his life. It fucking hurt. It’d been two years since he last felt properly connected to his dad, like he belonged with him. And a whole year had gone by where his dad had pretended he wasn’t dating one of the waitresses at the restaurant. Like he hadn’t heard him whispering on the phone, all smiles and flirty.

He reached under the bed and pulled out a
Hellboy
, volume one, “Seed of Destruction.” There was a reason he loved comic books and other general geek paraphernalia so much. All the downtrodden, unnoticeable, unpopular protagonists had the most exciting alter egos. He decided that he really ought to get himself one.

T
RUE to his word, Drew had made Matt wait outside the store while he picked up the odds and ends his mother needed. Though he still couldn’t help but fidget uncomfortably at the checkout when the clerk rang up his mother’s tampons and incense sticks.

Then at home, he helped Matt through some of the trickier math shit that even tripped him up from time to time. Now he was more or less letting Matt get on with it, just flicking through his English Lit textbook and offering input when asked for it, but for the most part, his mind kept wandering back to his conversation with Kieran in the storeroom.

He went there intending to reassure Kieran, but felt that he had only made things worse, somehow. He was torn between just letting it go and pretending it never happened, or approaching Kieran again. The former seemed the sensible idea, but left him feeling dissatisfied, and the latter ran the risk of embarrassing Kieran further.

He cut a quick glance to Matt, who was frowning in concentration. What he really wanted to do was talk to Matt about it. But then, he didn’t even know what it was he wanted to say.
Matt? There’s a guy at school who’s into me, and I’m not totally against the idea of liking him back. What do you think?
Or even
Matt, old buddy old pal? I’m pretty sure I’m into guys. Can we discuss?

“What?”

Drew was abruptly brought back to reality to find Matt staring at him. “Huh?” For a horrifying moment he wondered if he’d said any of it out loud.

Matt snorted. “You just laughed. What’s so funny?”

He tried to downplay the relief that washed through him and realized right there that no, he wouldn’t be chatting to Matt about his love life any time soon. “Nothing.” He waved it off casually.

Matt raised an eyebrow in question, but then let it go with a “whatever” shake of his head. “Weirdo,” he muttered.

“I’m cooler than you.”
“You wish, butt-face.”

“Butt-face? You’re supposed to rub off on Travis, not the other way around, idiot.”

Matt shrugged. “What can I say? Little dude makes me laugh.” He grinned. “Speaking of, he’s harangued me into taking him into that new comic book store in town tomorrow. You want to come with?”

“Do I want to come with?” Drew smirked.

“Ugh, fine. Will you please come with us and save me from total boredom-slash-geekdom? Plus my brother asked me to ask you. He thinks you’re cool, though fuck knows why. Loser.”

“You’re such a sweet talker!”
“Just say yes so I can tell him you’re coming.”
“Fine, whatever. You’ll owe me, though.”
“I’ll owe you shit. You’re coming and you’ll be happy about it.” “Why am I friends with you, again?”

Matt closed his math textbook and shoved it across the floor. “Because I am
fucking
awesome!” he declared with a flourish.

“Not to mention modest.”
“That too.”
“Your folks must be
so
proud.”

“Hmm,” Matt replied and gave him an odd glance. “You, uh… heard from your uncle recently?”

“Yeah, got a letter from him a few days ago, actually.” “You must be looking forward to him getting home.” “You’ve got no idea,” Drew said, tension creeping into his voice. “Is everything going okay?”

“Yeah, we’re doing fine. I just worry about leaving her alone during the day.”

 

Matt nudged him slightly. “She seems to be doing okay.” “Yeah, well. There are good days and bad days.”

 

“There’ll be more of those good ones when your uncle gets back, don’t worry.”