Rainbow Boys (16 page)

“My dad caught us,” Jason continued. “He made Tommy go home, and he beat the shit out of me, really pounded me, like never before. He told me if he ever caught me again, he’d kill me.”

Jason made it sound like a real threat. A shiver ran up Kyle’s spine. He wanted to reach out and hold Jason, protect him. “You don’t think he really meant it, do you?”

Jason bit a nail. His finger in his mouth gave him a childlike look. “Well, yeah. A s a kid I did.” He scratched his wrist. “Do you think …

it’s bad?”

“Of course!” Kyle thought of his own dad, who could be stubborn and pigheaded but would never hurt him, not in a million years. “He’s got no right to hit you.”

“I don’t mean that,” Jason said. “I mean, you know …”

It took Kyle a moment to reverse his train of thought. “Well, I don’t think it’s bad … if two guys … you know, like each other. Do you think it’s bad?”

Jason wiped his palms across his pants. “I don’t know.” He looked so hurt and confused.

Kyle felt closer to him than ever, but it scared him to think Jason’s dad might seriously go after him. He’d already wounded Jason, and Jason didn’t even seem to realize it.

“Thanks.” Jason picked up his math book.

Kyle tried to refocus his attention on the logarithms while Jason struggled with the equations, knitting his brow and chewing on his pencil. Kyle scooted his chair closer, explaining the steps. Inadvertently he found himself leaning onto Jason’s shoulder. Jason didn’t seem to notice, so Kyle stayed there, feeling Jason’s warmth.

Jason solved the problem he was working on and triumphantly ripped the scratch page from his notebook. Unfortunately for Kyle, he also moved his shoulder away, wadding the paper into a ball and making a perfect toss across the room into the wastebasket. Impressive, Kyle thought.

While Jason struggled with the next problem, Kyle tried to take his mind off everything they’d talked about. He crumpled a sheet of paper and attempted to shoot a basket of his own. He missed by a little short of a mile.

Jason noticed and Kyle blushed.

“Watch. Like this.” Jason wrapped his hand around Kyle’s forearm and guided Kyle’s wrist in a hinge motion. “Try it.” Kyle tried but, in spite of Jason’s instruction, missed—though not quite as badly as before. “I’ve never been able to throw.” Jason crumpled another sheet of paper and handed it to Kyle. “I’ve never been able to do math.” He grinned. “A gain!” A mountain of paper accumulated around the trash can before Kyle finally made a basket. He jumped up and down, ecstatic, and Jason slapped him a high five. “See, I knew you could do it.”

On a roll, Kyle shot another, followed by Jason. The boys jumped around the room, alternating baskets until Kyle stopped, out of breath, his brow sweating. He took his glasses off and wiped them with his shirt.

“Let me see you without your glasses.”

Kyle kept them off. “I’m thinking of getting contacts. What do you think?” Jason’s blurry head nodded up and down. “Sure. Why not?”

Kyle put the glasses back on. “I don’t think I’ll have enough money left after Christmas presents. A nd I hate to ask my mom for the money. They’re still paying off my braces.”

Jason turned to Kyle’s dresser and stared at himself in the mirror. “I wish I’d gotten braces. My teeth are a disaster.” Kyle glanced at Jason’s teeth, wishing he wouldn’t put himself down like that. He wanted to tell Jason how much he loved those teeth, how he spent hours staring at his smiling yearbook portrait.

Jason must have noticed him staring, because his lips closed. Then he said, “I wish I had teeth like yours.” They stared at each other’s mouth for an awkward moment, then Kyle said, “Well, I like your smile.” He couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. Surely, there must be a ventriloquist in the room.

Jason looked down at the carpet, blushing, and Kyle squirmed in his socks. He hadn’t meant to embarrass Jason. Yet he couldn’t help but stare at Jason’s mouth. The fullness of the lips reminded him of the movie theater and how he’d come home and kissed the hand Jason had held.

“Well,” Jason said, his lip quivering slightly. “I guess I better go.” But he didn’t move. He just stood there.

Kyle’s legs began to tremble. He longed to kiss Jason, right there in his room. Of course, that was nuts. His parents were downstairs.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Jason didn’t answer. He leaned forward, as if pulled by an unseen force.

That was all Kyle needed. Jason’s head cocked to the right, and Kyle felt himself flung toward him like a sled down a calamitous hill.

Except their mouths didn’t fit right. Even though they were the same height, Kyle’s nose collided with Jason’s left upper lip, and he wanted to die from embarrassment. His nose! What was he supposed to do with his nose? There was no convenient place for it.

Then he felt Jason’s breath on his cheek. He turned his head a tiny bit more. He closed his eyes and their mouths met perfectly. Jason’s lips softly touched his. A thousand nerve cells tingled and spiraled through skin and sinew, blazed through his blood and soared into his heart. His tongue gently slipped between his teeth and for a moment explored the wet warmth of Jason’s mouth. He wanted to remain like that the rest of his life.

He whispered, “I love you, Jason.”

Jason flinched.

Kyle opened his eyes and saw Jason’s face, flushed red as Christmas paper, glancing toward the door. Immediately he said, “I’m sorry.”

“I better go,” Jason whispered hoarsely. He stepped back from Kyle, grabbed his math book, and slung his backpack onto his shoulder.

Before Kyle could say anything more, Jason passed through the doorway into the hall.

Kyle started after him, but his legs were like jelly as he wobbled down the stairs. A t the bottom step, his dad reached out to steady him. His mom was already helping Jason with his coat. Jason uttered polite thanks, and before Kyle could stop him, he disappeared—out the front door and into the starless night.

“A re you all right?” his dad asked.

Kyle faltered as his mom closed the front door. “Kyle?” she said. “Can I ask you a question? Is Jason …” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, like she wanted to leave. “I don’t know how to say … is he … someone special?” Kyle caught his breath. Why’d she ask that? “Gee, Mom, can’t I just have a friend over anymore?” His dad’s face caved in, as though crushed by the realization that Jason might be anything other than a titanic heterosexual. “You mean Jason is—”

Kyle nearly screamed. “Can we drop it?”

“I’m sorry,” his mom said. “I’m just trying to understand. He seems nice.” She smiled at the foyer tile. “I mean, I’m glad we got a chance to meet him.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said. He turned and ran up the stairs, throwing himself onto his bed, where he hated his life and pondered the ceiling.

Until it suddenly struck him: He had actually kissed the boy he loved. A nd that boy had kissed him back.

Nelson tore open the Christmas card from his father. A s always, it bore no personal greeting, no fond closing, only the perfunctory signature, and a check for a hundred dollars.

“Why’s he even bother?”

His mom refused to fuel Nelson’s resentment, even though she and his dad could barely talk without shouting. “Your dad has always taken care of anything you needed,” she said, then added as an afterthought, “financially.” Nelson didn’t feel like arguing. He already knew what he wanted to buy himself with the check: a pair of Doc Marten boots. He’d saved money for everyone else’s gifts. For his mom, he’d get perfume or a scarf. He’d get Shea some funky metal jewelry and Caitlin a tie. He knew Kyle wanted a limited edition watch with the glow-in-the-dark hologram of the starship Enterprise, but the stupid thing cost too much. He couldn’t buy it and still get himself the boots. A nd why should he spend a hundred dollars on Kyle? Kyle would probably blow all his Christmas money buying Jason a designer jockstrap.

Christmas afternoon, he went to Kyle’s to exchange presents. He immediately noticed the movie poster tacked onto the wall. “Hm.

That’s new.”

Kyle glanced at the carpet and shuffled his feet. “Jason gave it to me.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Nelson said. He stuck his finger down his throat and made a gagging noise. Then he handed Kyle the box he’d carried over. “Here,” he said grumpily.

Kyle unwrapped the package. “Wow!” He carefully opened the carrying case for the watch. “I can’t believe you got it for me.” He looked at Nelson as if debating something. Then he leaned forward. “Thanks.” He pecked Nelson a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Nelson said. “You going to put it on or save it as a museum piece?” Kyle strapped the watch onto his wrist. “It looks great. Here”—he handed Nelson a box—“open yours.” Nelson ripped open the package and screamed. “The fucking boots! You don’t know how bad I wanted these.” Kyle grinned. “Yes, I do.”

Nelson kicked his shoes off and thrust the boots on. “They’re beautiful!” His fingers raced to tie the laces. “You rule!” He jumped up and down, bounding over to Kyle. “I want a real kiss!” Before Kyle could say anything, Nelson pecked him a kiss on the mouth. “There! Your first kiss on the lips from a boy.”

Kyle turned red and Nelson stopped bouncing. “Uh-oh, you’ve got that constipated look.” A lthough he wondered why, he already suspected. “You kissed him, didn’t you?”

Kyle responded with a sheepish nod. “Just last week. I still can’t believe it.” His eyebrows edged up with that contrite puppy look. “A re you angry?”

Nelson glanced down at the boots. “No.” That was a lie. “Yes,” he admitted, but he wasn’t furious. “I don’t know.” He fell back onto the bed, as if forced down by the weight of his confusion. He should feel happy his best friend made out with the man of his wet dreams, instead of just feeling sorry for himself. He stared at the movie poster Jason had given Kyle.

Kyle fidgeted with the bill of his cap. “Of course, he ran out afterward.”

“Oh, he’ll be back.”

“You think so?” Kyle asked hopefully.

“Well, for your information, I kissed a boy too. You’ll never guess who. Blake Randolph!”

“No way!” Kyle sat beside him, obviously impressed.

A s well he should be, Nelson thought. “Way!” he told Kyle. “A t Caitlin’s party. He was so dreamy. I always suspected he lusted after me.” He knew it was a lie, but at least he didn’t feel like such a loser.

Nelson hung around his house for most of the holiday break. He took A tticus on walks, surfed chat rooms, examined himself in the mirror, binged on sweets his mom brought home from holiday parties, made himself throw up, admired his new boots, and thought about Kyle.

One afternoon he received an E-mail from HotLove69. A fter thinking about it a little, he answered the message and phoned Shea. “Can you come over? I want you to take some photos of me.”

“Sure,” she said. “What are they for?”

He didn’t want to tell her the real reason. She’d never approve. So he simply said, “‘Cause I’m bored out of my freakin’ gourd.” When she came over, he told her about Kyle and Jason.

“So, now you feel hurt.”

He lit a cigarette. “I don’t want to think about it. Here.” He handed her the camera and started changing clothes. “I just wish I could find someone—like you found Caitlin.”

“You can’t just go out and find someone,” she told him. “That’s not how it works.” He wished he knew how it did work.

Shea snapped some photographs of him in different outfits and some without a shirt on, but then she got suspicious. “What are you going to do with these?”

Fortunately, from beneath a pile of clothes, the phone rang. Nelson scrambled for it and answered: “Stud-Muffins-dot-com.”

“Nelson? Turn the music down. I only have a minute.”

Nelson recognized the voice immediately. In the background, he heard an airport loudspeaker. He could picture a briefcase, a cell phone, the airplane gate.

Shea whispered, “Who is it?”

Nelson mouthed the word “Father” and grudgingly turned the volume down.

“I’m flying through next week,” his dad continued. “I promised your mom I’d try to see you, unless my meeting runs over. A re you listening?”

Nelson made a fist, glancing at his nails. How lucky that his dad could fit him into his tight schedule. “Yeah. I’m listening.” Nelson made a fist, glancing at his nails. How lucky that his dad could fit him into his tight schedule. “Yeah. I’m listening.” The loudspeaker announced final boarding for a flight. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call back with the details.” He hung up without so much as a

“Good to hear your voice,” certainly no “I’ve missed you,” and definitely no “I love you.” The dial tone rang in Nelson’s ear. He tossed the phone across the bed.

Shea sat beside him, looking worried. “What did he say?”

Nelson shook his head. “It’s what he didn’t say.”