Rainbow Boys (8 page)

From the corner of his eye, he saw her pull a tissue from her pocketbook. She patted her eyes, then crumpled the tissue into a little white ball in her fist. “Jason?” Her voice was stern. “Is there someone else?” He knew she meant another girl. He wished there were. That would be easier. He considered making up a story, but he’d already been less than honest. “No,” he sighed. “I’m just trying to figure things out … to decide what I want. That’s all.” She studied him for a moment. Mascara smeared her cheeks, giving her eyes a bruised and frightened look. She carefully uncrumpled the tissue from her fist and spread it onto her lap. Then she grew quiet.

He decided to keep talking. “I know I should’ve said something before now—” She raised her hand to stop him. The fearful look was gone from her face, replaced by one of bold resolve.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward to kiss her.

“No!” She blocked him with her arm. “I don’t want to be around you while you figure things out!” The force of her words made him wince.

She must have realized it, because her tone softened. “I don’t mean it like that. What I mean is …” She shook her head. “Maybe we should take a break for a while.”

He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected her to get upset—to cry, maybe hit him—but he never thought she’d tell him to blow off. She was proposing exactly what he wanted—some space apart. Only now he wasn’t sure he wanted it.

She crossed her arms and looked out the window. “I want to go home.”

“Maybe we should talk some more.”

“No! I don’t want to. There’s nothing else to discuss.”

Jason drove her home, angry at himself for the mess he’d made and angry that Debra had told him off. When he parked in her driveway, she got out without kissing him.

The following week, he got back an algebra test with a bold red F on the front. Mr. Perez spoke to him after class. “Coach Cameron asked me how you’re doing.”

Jason collected his books. The last thing he wanted was a lecture, but Perez kept talking. “You’re a good kid, Jason. I like you. I want to help you, but you need to decide what you want. You want to study, or you want to screw off?” Jason slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m not screwing off.”

“Hold on.” Perez put up a hand. “Is there anyone who can help you at home? Your dad?” What a joke. “We don’t get along,” he told Perez. “A nd my mom doesn’t understand this stuff.”

“Is there anyone else who could help?”

Jason remembered Kyle’s offer. But … what if Kyle got the wrong idea?

The following afternoon he stopped by Kyle’s locker. “Hey, you got your braces off. Looks good.” He wished his own teeth looked that good. But his old man would never pinch over a single dime for his teeth.

Kyle flushed red and cracked a shy smile. “Thanks. How’s it going with you?”

“Okay. I start basketball practice next week—every afternoon except Wednesdays. It makes it hard to keep up my grades.” He waited, hoping that Kyle would get the hint.

Kyle slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I can help you if you want.” Jason knew he should make it clear that he only wanted math help—nothing more. But he didn’t know how to say it. Instead he agreed to meet Kyle at the flagpost after school the next day.

A ll day Wednesday he chewed his nails and debated whether to go through with it. He half hoped Kyle wouldn’t show up.

But there he stood by the flagpost, glancing in one direction, then another, nervously playing with the bill of his cap. When he spotted Jason, he broke into a huge smile. “Hi!”

Whoa, Jason thought, calm down. “Look, all I want is help with math, okay?” Kyle’s smile disappeared. “Well, sure.” He scrunched his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” Jason kicked the ground. “Never mind.”

They didn’t talk much on the walk to Jason’s house. Every once in a while he glanced over at Kyle. He had never really taken a good look at him before. His eyes were hazel, and his wire-frame glasses gave him a teddy-bear face. His hair was a honey color and hung down in bangs from beneath his cap. His shoulders were broad for such a thin guy. He remembered Kyle telling him he was on the swim team. He had a body like a swimmer—long, firm, and lean.

Once they arrived at Jason’s, Kyle stopped at the sideboard in the living room. “Wow, all these trophies are yours?” Jason nodded. “My mom likes to show them off.” He did too, but he didn’t want to seem conceited. His dad constantly harped that his ego was too big. He pushed open the kitchen door. Rex greeted them. Jason poured a bowl of Cat Chow, but Rex backed away when Kyle bent down to pet him.

“He’s kind of skittish. You hungry?” he said, handing a pack of cupcakes to Kyle. Then he grabbed a couple of Cokes from the refrigerator and led Kyle to his room.

Kyle gazed around, staring at everything. Jason watched him, trying to figure out what he found so interesting. It was an ordinary room, not much to look at—pale blue walls; his bench and barbell set; the stereo system his aunt Claire had given him; posters of basketball stars above his bed; Whitman team pictures; his dresser, lined with his cologne and stuff. “Never seen a bedroom before?” Jason asked.

Kyle blushed. “Just looking.” He pointed to the cologne. “I wondered what you wore.” Jason picked up the bottle. “Want some?”

“Sure.” Kyle grinned and set the cupcakes down, rubbing the cologne on his wrists. “It smells like you.” He glanced at the gold-framed photo on the dresser, of Jason with Debra. “That’s a great picture.”

Jason didn’t want to think about Debra. He sat down on the bed and gestured to the desk chair for Kyle. “We had kind of a fight the other night.” He hadn’t planned on talking to Kyle about it. In fact, he hadn’t told anyone about the fight—not even Corey. “Not really a fight. We decided to take a break for a while. A ctually, she decided.”

“You’re not”—Kyle sipped the Coke Jason handed him—“breaking up, are you?” His concern surprised Jason. “I don’t know.” He grabbed the cupcakes off the dresser, ripped open the pack, and shoved one into his mouth. “Want one?”

Kyle took one, while Jason kicked off his shoes, not thinking anything of it. Rex had followed them into the room and began circling Kyle, rubbing against his legs.

“Wow,” Jason said. “He usually doesn’t warm up to new people.”

The cat hopped onto Kyle’s lap, then bent his head down into Kyle’s crotch, tapping his nose on Kyle’s zipper as he sniffed.

“Rex!” Jason shouted. He stood up and grabbed the cat. “Sorry about that.” He tossed him into the hall. “Come on. Out you go.” He closed the bedroom door and suddenly became aware that he was alone in his bedroom with a guy he knew was a homo. His palm slid off the doorknob, clammy with sweat. He turned to see Kyle untying his own shoes.

A feeling Jason couldn’t exactly identify—an excited feeling—coursed through him.

Kyle stared at him. “Is it okay if I take them off?”

Jason shrugged, wishing he’d left his own shoes on, and sat down again.

Kyle bent over to untie his laces, and a cassette tape fell out of his shirt pocket.

“What’s that?” Jason asked.

Kyle picked it up. “A tape Nelson made. Want to hear it?”

Jason considered for a moment. Did he want to play in his stereo a tape made by Nelly? “Sure. Why not?” He put the tape into the stereo. A lmost immediately he liked the music. “Who is it?”

Kyle hesitated, then mumbled something.

“Who?” Jason asked, louder this time.

Kyle looked embarrassed and said, slightly louder, “The Butthole Surfers?” Jason burst out laughing. “No way! That’s their name?”

Kyle nodded, cracking a smile. “You like it?”

“Yeah.” Jason smiled. “I like it.”

They listened to the tape and drank their Cokes. Kyle drummed his palms against his jeans. Jason tried not to notice how the soft denim outlined Kyle’s legs and curved over the front of his pants. He rubbed the sweat from his palms. “Can I, like, ask you a question?” Kyle leaned forward. “Yeah?”

Jason knew what he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to ask it. “Did you always know you were …” His voice trailed off.

Fortunately, Kyle seemed to get his drift. He grabbed the bill of his cap and nodded. “Well, yeah. I didn’t know what it was called …

until sixth grade, when I saw this headline in the newspaper.” He flipped the bill of his cap up, then back down. “A fter that, I heard guys talk about, you know, queers. I felt embarrassed. I kept to myself a lot. My mom got pretty worried. She didn’t know what was going on.

She still doesn’t know. It wasn’t till I met Nelson that I started coming out.” Jason hadn’t expected such an involved answer. “But how did you know for certain?” Kyle scratched his head beneath his cap and shrugged. “I knew I liked guys.” The simplicity of Kyle’s response bothered Jason. His hands dripped with sweat as he leaned toward Kyle. “Well, you don’t look, you know, I mean … Like Nelly—I mean, Nelson. You can tell he is. Have you two …?” Kyle shifted on the bed. “Huh? No! No, we’re just friends.” He pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never, you know

… I’ve never done anything with anyone, girl or guy.”

Jason stared at him, feeling silly for ever worrying that Kyle would make a move on him. He wiped his palms across his pants.

Kyle twirled his cap. “I never know what to say.” The cap spun out of his hands and rolled across the carpet.

Jason picked it up and tossed it back to him.

“Thanks.” Kyle smiled. “I’m always afraid that, I don’t know, if I told a guy I liked him, he’d punch me out or something.” He wrung the cap in his hands and looked up at Jason. “But I don’t want to bore you with all my problems.” Jason wasn’t bored. It was the first time he’d ever talked with another boy about shit like this. Though it made him sweat as much as a workout, it was better than sitting in a room full of people whom he didn’t even know.

Kyle pulled his cap back on. “Well, I’d better help you with your math.”

Jason nodded. He felt disappointed that Kyle didn’t want to talk anymore, but he also knew that if his hands sweated any more, there would be a puddle on the carpet. He took his math book out of his backpack. “I should warn you. I don’t get this stuff.” Kyle shrugged, sliding his chair over. “We’ll go slow.”

Jason opened the book. “I mean it. I really suck.”

“That’s okay. We can’t all be good at everything. My basketball sucks.”

Jason laughed, remembering Kyle in tenth-grade gym class. He did suck at hoops—he tensed up too much.

Kyle began explaining the equations. He made a lot more sense than Perez ever did. He explained each step, then stopped and asked a question, like Coach Cameron did when he described plays. A nd Jason understood it.

In fact, it seemed like they had just started when he heard the front door. He looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw they’d been studying for nearly two hours. He’d never sat through math that long.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Jason realized how close he and Kyle were sitting. Shit. He stood up just as Melissa burst into the room.

“Jay!” She ran to him.

He picked her up and swung her around. “Hey, monkey. Say hi to Kyle.”

She waved hello to Kyle as Jason’s mom leaned in the doorway.

“Hi, Mom. Kyle’s helping me with math.”

His mom smiled. “Great. Hi, Kyle.” She turned to Jason. “Honey, can you bring in the groceries?” Kyle helped unload the car, carrying several bags at a time. He was a lot stronger than he looked, Jason thought. It must be the swimmer’s muscles. He thanked him for his help with the math.

Kyle beamed, grabbing his backpack. “I can help you again sometime, if you want.”

“Yeah?” Jason said. “That’d be great.” He meant it.

Kyle waved, “Laters,” and walked down the street. Jason watched him for a moment, then carried the two six-packs of his dad’s beer into the kitchen, where his mom was putting away the groceries.

“Why do you keep buying beer for him?” Jason asked.

She stared at Jason as if he’d spoken a foreign language. “I guess I never thought about it.” She closed the cupboard. “Your friend seems nice.”

Jason agreed, though he wondered what she’d say if she knew Kyle was queer.

He returned to his room, turned the stereo on, and bounced onto the bed, feeling happy. He’d enjoyed being with Kyle. He liked hearing what it was like for him to be … gay. Who would’ve thought that one day he’d have a gay guy over and together they’d listen to a tape of a group called The Butthole Surfers?

A fter dinner that evening, Kyle lay in bed, hardly able to believe he’d actually been inside Jason Carrillo’s room! He recalled the basketball trophies, the posters, the algebra book on Jason’s lap. It had been torture trying to concentrate. He’d had to take one step at a time and keep asking Jason questions just to keep on track. He could still smell the cologne. He pressed his wrists tightly against his nose, taking in the rich Jason aroma, and sighed.