Rainbow High (21 page)

Whitman took possession of the bal . Corey and Odel made a series of rapid passes, trying to find a shot. Then Corey passed to Jason—in perfect line for a throw. Jason knew what he had to do. He raised the bal but—

The Northside’s center slammed into him, and the bal fumbled from his hands. He spun around, furious, as the referee blew his whistle.

“Foul!”

The center lumbered away, hands on hips, sneering. Jason wanted to kil the jerk.

The crowd booed—half at Northside, the other half at the referee.

Jason bent over to catch his breath. The game was now up to him.

The stadium turned quiet as Jason stepped up to the free throw line. The ref tossed him the bal . Jason took a breath.
I’m going to make
them,
he told himself.
I have to make them.

He brought his feet up to the foul line, dribbled a couple of times, aimed at the basket and shot. The bal flew through the air and sank through the net.

The crowd roared as the scoreboard marked the point. The teams were tied at 79.

The ref tossed Jason the bal again. The state championship had come down to this: one shot, one person. Jason.

He glanced over toward the bench, recal ing other games when the outcome had hinged on him. But this time was different. It wasn’t just about winning a championship. It was about a team and a coach who’d accepted him. How could he let them down now?

Coach was signaling him with the palm of his hand, as if to say, “Easy. Take your time. Don’t get cocky.” Jason wanted to look over at his mom and Kyle, but didn’t dare.
Focus,
he told himself.
Relax.
He gazed at the basket.
You can do it
Jason lifted the bal and threw. The bal arced silently through the air. The stadium crowd watched, absolutely stil —not a cough or a cheer.

Jason watched the bal sail over the court, sink toward the hoop, and . . . whisk through the net!

The crowd exploded in thunderous applause, stomping, cheering, and shouting.

Jason whooped with excitement as the clock counted down to zero, sounding the buzzer. The entire Whitman team ran onto the court, jumping and hugging. The crowd was screaming. And then his mom was there, carrying his little sister. Everyone had their arms around each other. And there was Kyle, grinning from ear to ear. Jason put his arm around him, too, total y uncaring who saw them.

Several reporters appeared, shoving microphones in Jason’s face, asking about the game. Even a camera from Channel Seven was there.

A reporter glanced at Kyle and asked Jason, “Is this your boyfriend?”

High with excitement, Jason didn’t think twice. “Yeah,” he replied.

And then he did something he’d never have imagined in his wildest dreams. In front of hundreds of stadium viewers and the TV camera, he turned to Kyle—and kissed him.

For the first time in his life, Nelson watched the eleven o’clock sports recap that evening, leaping off the sofa when he heard the results of the championship.

The sports anchor made a brief reference to Jason as “the senior defensive guard seen here on Channel Seven after announcing to his school he’s gay.’’

A clip from the school interview came on, then the sports-caster continued with other game scores.

Nelson clicked the TV off, muttering, “Jason, Jason, Jason.” Why did everyone keep making such a big whoop about him? As if he was the first high school student to ever come out? So what if he was a sports champ? Did that make him superior?

Nelson wandered into the kitchen for some ice cream to cool his irritation. As he was piling up a bowl the phone rang.

He darted a glance at the microwave clock. Who’d be cal ing at this hour? He grabbed the receiver. “Hel o?”

“Did you see it?” Kyle asked. “Did they actual y show it?”

“Show
what?”
Nelson asked. “That tired old interview again?”

“Us
kissingl”
Kyle shouted into the phone.

Nelson dropped his ice-cream spoon, dumbstruck.

“Were you watching Channel Seven?” Kyle’s breath raced. “After the game they interviewed Jason. I was standing with him and the reporter asked if I was his boyfriend. Jason looked at me and this time he said
yes
! Then he kissed me!”

“No way! He
kissed
you?”

“They didn’t show it?”

“No! He
kissed
you?
In front of everyone?”
With every word Nelson’s voice became more excited.

“Yep,” Kyle said proudly. “And he said I was his boyfriend. Are you sure you didn’t miss it?”

“Kyle!” Nelson jabbed the spoon into his ice cream. “I
told
you I’m sure. The station probably wussed. Shootings and gore they’l show, but teenage boys kissing? That would scare people too much.”

“Oh,” Kyle mumbled.

Nelson could hear his disappointment. “So tel me about it,” he said, in spite of being sick of hearing about Jason.

Kyle perked up, at least a little, and gave him the details.

After hanging up, Nelson chowed down his ice cream. On one hand he felt happy for Kyle, but on the other hand, why couldn’t
he
find a boyfriend like that?

The fol owing morning Nelson was stil asleep when his cel phone rang. He stretched a hand out from beneath the covers, groping on the nightstand, knocking over his cigarettes, a Vaseline jar, and a ketchup bottle.

“Hel o?” he croaked out, his fingers fumbling to pry the receiver open.

“Hey, it’s Jeremy.”

Nelson strained to pul himself from his sleep haze. “Jeremy?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy whose cal s you don’t return?”

They hadn’t spoken since the night Nelson got knocked on his butt. Each time Jeremy had cal ed, Nelson screened his number on the cal er ID and let it go to voicemail. He was stil too
PO
’d to talk to him.

“Oh, yeah,” Nelson said, elbowing himself up onto his pil ows. “Um, sorry. I’ve been—you know—kind of busy.” Ugh. Lame-o!

“Wel ,” Jeremy said, “now that I got hold of you, I want to see if we could get together this afternoon? For coffee? So we can talk?” Nelson scratched a hand through his hair, his anger dissipating, being replaced by a different feeling—one Nelson couldn’t yet identify.

After agreeing on a time to meet, they hung up. Nelson stared at the phone, wondering how he could feel so weirdly ambivalent about seeing a guy he used to die to be with.

He dialed Kyle, lit a cigarette, and told him about Jeremy’s cal . “So, what am I going to say when I see him?”

“What do you
want
to say?” Kyle asked.

“I don’t know. In spite of everything, I stil like him. And it would be a monumental waste to dump him
sans
first doing him. After al this stress, I should at least get something out of it, but ...”

He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m just not sure it’s going to work out with him. You know?”

“I know,” Kyle acknowledged, sounding almost jubilant with relief. “But you’ve learned a lot from this, haven’t you?”

“Oh, Kyle! You sound like a forty-year-old schoolteacher.” He watched the smoke curling up from his cigarette. “Yeah, I guess I’ve learned a lot. I’m not sure what, though. Maybe I should just tel him it’s not going to work.” Abruptly, a wave of panic overcame him. “Omigod!” He sat up in bed. “What if he’s planning to dump
me
?”

“Wel . . .,” Kyle said calmly. “So? Didn’t you just say—”

“Yeah, but I don’t want him to dump me first.” Nelson snubbed out his cigarette. “Oh, crap! Who wil I take to prom?”

“Nelson, that’s weeks away.”

“Yeah! Like I’m going to meet a dozen gorgeous guys dying to go with me between now and then?”

“Can’t he stil go with you?” Kyle asked. “Even if you’re not dating?”

“Oh, yeah, right. I’l tel him, ‘Jeremy, I’m dumping you but wil you stil go to the prom with me?’” Nelson tossed a pil ow aside. “I better get dressed. I’l cal you when I get back—and before I slit my wrists. Remember, at my memorial service I want them to play ‘Like a Virgin.’ And I want to wear the Doc Marten boots you gave me. And I expect lots of tears and testimonials. I’m counting on you.” After showering and dressing, Nelson headed downstairs. His mom sat at the computer. She and he stil weren’t speaking to each other—at least nothing more than shouts and grumbles.

“I’m going out,” he told her, grabbing his jacket from the closet.

She turned toward him, scowling. “No, you’re not. Your dad’s coming today, remember? I’m waiting to hear what flight he’l be on.” Oops. Nelson had forgotten al about it. Not that it made any difference. He wasn’t going to sit around waiting for something he knew wasn’t going to happen.

“Get real,” he told his mom. “I’l be back in a couple of hours.”

“Nelson!” his mom yel ed as he closed the door behind him.

The aroma of fresh-ground coffee fil ed the coffee shop where Nelson had met Jeremy’s friends. Jeremy was waiting, as usual, except this time he didn’t look mad.

Uh-oh,
Nelson thought.
Is he trying to hide that he’s about to dump me?

But Jeremy pecked him a kiss so tender it had to be genuine.

Crap. Suddenly Nelson no longer wanted to break up.

Once again Jeremy ordered a chai and Nelson a double espresso. Nelson had wanted to treat, but Jeremy beat him to it. Nelson shoved his money back into his pocket, worried sick there might be some rule—whoever pays gets to dump.

The table where they sat last time was occupied by a guy-girl couple that looked disgustingly happy—laughing, gazing into each other’s eyes, displaying public affection al over each other.

Proceeding to a different table, Nelson sat across from Jeremy.

“So, how’s it going?” Jeremy pursed his lips as he blew into his steaming cup.

“Fine.” Nelson sipped his coffee, scalding his tongue as he tried to figure out what to say to Jeremy. Maybe he should just forgive him for knocking him on his
tuches.
But was that real y what this was about?

“Dude, you’re trembling,” Jeremy whispered.

Nelson tried to steady his cup with both hands.

“I real y am sorry about the other night,” Jeremy said. From his tone, there was no doubt he meant it.

Maybe he’s not going to dump me,
Nelson thought. But how could he be sure? This whole thing was making him crazy. He had to make a decision fast. The longer he delayed, the more difficult it would be to say anything. He took another jolt of coffee and dropped the cup to the table.

“Okay, listen! We both like each other, right? But we know this isn’t going to work. You’re sorry, I’m sorry. So, why don’t we just agree to dump each other? Mutual consent. No one gets hurt.”

Jeremy reared back in his seat, eyebrows raised in surprise—not the expression of someone who’d been planning to dump.

Omigod,
Nelson thought.
What did I just do?
Blood surged into his face.

“I mean . . .” Nelson stammered. “Do you think we can work it out? Look, forget what I said before. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. What do you think we should do?”

Now what am I saying?
Nelson thought. He took a gulp of coffee, searing his tongue again. “I must sound like such a flake.” Jeremy peered at him, his mouth half-open, and didn’t argue. He merely breathed a deep sigh. “You sound confused, babe. I think if I were you, I would be too.”

Nelson slunk down in his seat, feeling like a skank. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?

“So what should we do?” he asked in a meek voice.

Jeremy reached out and laid his fingers lightly on Nelson’s hand. “I like you a lot. But the fact is, “I’ve got HIV. Nothing’s going to change that.

Maybe one day there’l be a cure, but for now . . . this is a lot to deal with. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should break up.” The response hit Nelson like a car smashed through the plate-glass window. He sat stunned, feeling like his heart was shattering into a mil ion pieces. But why? Hadn’t he braced himself?

He turned his hand over, grabbing tightly onto Jeremy’s, trying to figure out his mixed-up feelings. But the longer he remained sitting, the more screwed up he felt.

“I better go,” he final y said. “I promised Kyle to go shopping with him.”

It was a lie, but the truth was too confusing. When they stood to say bye, Jeremy encircled his arms around him.

“I stil want to be friends,” he whispered.

Nelson nodded silently, fearing if he opened his mouth, he might start sobbing. Without letting Jeremy see his face, he turned away.

He managed to hold it in for three blocks, making it to a little park with a fountain. There he found an empty bench and pul ed out his cel phone.

Kyle answered, “Hel o?” and Nelson let loose.

For what seemed like hours he sobbed into the phone, rocking on the bench, clutching his stomach.

“It hurts so much,” he was saying, when the phone abruptly lost reception. Nelson wanted to smash the stupid thing. But when Kyle cal ed back a minute later, Nelson had caught his breath. “Wil I ever find
any
one to love me?”

“Hey, come on. I love you.”

“You know what I mean,” Nelson wailed.
“A boyfriend.”

“Of course you wil ,” Kyle assured him. “You have your whole life ahead of you.” Nelson sputtered into the phone. “I don’t want to wait my whole loveless life.”

“It’l happen,” Kyle insisted.

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

“Because . . . you’re a wonderful guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Nelson whined. “Then why doesn’t wonderful me have a boyfriend?”

“Be patient,” Kyle said with confidence. “It’l happen.”

Nelson wished he could believe him.

When he arrived home, his mom was sitting by the phone, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair, looking ticked off.

Crap. Nelson realized he’d forgotten about his dad.

“Did he come?” Nelson asked, a little startled by his own excitement.

His mom stopped drumming her fingers. “He cal ed and said he had a crisis at work.” Nelson’s heart plummeted faster than a cartoon anvil. How could he have gotten even momentarily excited about the old coot showing up?