Rainbow High (23 page)

Wait a minute.
What
altercation? He’d never gotten into a fight with another team. Was this a mistake?

Then he remembered . . . the scuffle with Dwayne on the court during the game with Chesapeake High.

The letter fel from his fingers onto his lap, as his heart slipped down inside him.

“But ...” His voice came out faint and disoriented. “Dwayne started that fight.” He leaned toward Coach, edging off the chair. “Can you talk to them? Can you tel them that?”

Coach pul ed his glasses off and dropped them onto his desk. “I already cal ed. I figured what the letter was about. They said their decision’s made.”

A swel of anger rose from Jason’s chest up into his throat. “But that’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not.”

“But I don’t understand. If it’s not fair, why can’t we do something?”

“Jason ...” Coach rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s not real y about that.” Jason stared across the desk at Coach, trying to understand. “You mean ... it’s real y because . . . I’m gay.” Coach nodded, his eyes weary. “Maybe.”

“But didn’t you say there was that NCAA thing against discriminating?”

“Yes.” Coach shook his head. “But they’re not admitting it’s about that. On the basis of what they’re saying—” Jason slammed back into his chair. “I’m screwed.”

Dwayne had screwed him. Now Tech was screwing him.

“Take it easy.” Coach waved him to settle down. “You’re stil a good player, Carril o. It just means we need to find you another school.” But Jason couldn’t simmer down. The blood was pounding in his temples. “Oh, right! Some rinky-dink col ege that’s so hard up they won’t give a crap.” He threw the letter onto Coach’s desk. “Forget it!”

Coach leaned back in his swivel chair. “Carril o, we knew the risk.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” He stood, his whole body shaking. “I don’t want another school! I’m not going anywhere. This is al crap!” He yanked the door open, feeling like he was about to explode. Cursing, he stormed down the hal , kicking a locker, not knowing where he was headed. Where could he go? He wasn’t going back to class. Besides, he’d left his books in Coach’s office. He couldn’t go back there.

He’d never walked out on Coach before.

He slammed open the side door of the building, crossed the parking lot, and kept walking, muttering and trying to make sense of what had happened.

He should never have come out. That’s what this boiled down to. Corey had been right al along. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and never told anyone.

Jason punched a fist into his leg. How could he have been so
stupid?
He’d known Tech would take away his scholarship if he came out. So why had he done it? Why had Coach, MacTraugh, Kyle let him go through with it? Why hadn’t someone stopped him?

“Arrgh!” he screamed, and kept walking. In his mind he retraced the events of the past few weeks over and over, trying to understand. Why had he risked his future like this?

Pausing to cross the street, he saw he’d reached Bluemont Park. That was ironic. It’s where he’d always gone to get away from his dad and the yel ing at home, where he’d learned to shoot baskets, where he’d spent hours trying to make sense of the world and al his feelings about girls . . . and about boys.

He sat down on the bench and hung his head in his hands, staring down at the names scratched into the weathered wood. Among them was his, dated ten years earlier.

He rubbed his thumb across the roughly gouged letters, thinking back to how he used to sit there between games, watching the older boys, wanting to play like them, wanting to be them, and wanting to be with them.

Jason wasn’t certain for how long he now sat on the bench, but a school bus drove past, ful of students. Classes must have let out. He got up and started walking. This time he knew exactly where he was heading.

From the outside Kyle’s house was quiet, the driveway empty, as though no one was home. Jason rang the doorbel , just to be sure. Then he hunkered down on the stoop, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them to keep warm. He wished he hadn’t left his jacket in his locker.

A short while later Kyle appeared, walking from the direction of school, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Wha’s up?” Jason said from the stoop.

“Hi.” Kyle squinted a little, as if confused. “I looked for you at your locker. How’d you get here so fast?”

“I skipped last period,” Jason said, rocking on the stoop. “I got a letter from Tech. They’ve withdrawn my scholarship.” Kyle slipped his backpack from his shoulder, letting it drop to the sidewalk. “Wel ...” He pressed his lips together a moment, as if determined. “We’l fight it.”

“There’s no fighting it.” Jason spit on the ground beside him and told Kyle what the letter had said, concluding, “At least
you
didn’t turn down Princeton. At least
you
get to go where
you
want.”

He knew he was being spiteful and hated himself for it. He wouldn’t blame Kyle for tel ing him, “Screw off!” But Kyle merely stared, quietly studying him. “You look cold,” he final y said.

“I don’t care.” Jason hunched his shoulders, starting to shiver.

Kyle gave a sigh. Pul ing his keys out, he opened the door. “Want to come in?” Jason rocked on the stoop a moment longer before deciding it was dumb to keep sitting on the cold brick.

Inside the house he fol owed the sound of tinkling glasses into the kitchen, where Kyle was pouring Cokes.

Wordlessly Kyle handed Jason a glass and leaned back against the counter, sipping his own drink. Every time he swal owed, his Adam’s apple bobbed up, then down.

Jason guzzled his Coke, recal ing the tenderness of Kyle’s neck against his lips.

Kyle’s gaze drifted up toward the clock above the cabinets. It’s ticking reverberated through the silence. They were alone in the house—no parents, no little sister, no cat—just the two of them.

Kyle’s gaze moved back to Jason. “What do you want to do?”

Jason hesitated, his chest stirring. Did Kyle mean right now? Or did he mean in terms of col ege plans?

As if in response, Kyle set his glass down and stepped toward him. His arms encircled Jason, warming him. His fine, thin hair brushed Jason’s cheek, smel ing sweetly of shampoo as his chin came firmly to rest on Jason’s shoulder.

Jason felt his anger melting as Kyle’s heart beat against his.

Then Kyle lifted his face, his breath warm on Jason’s cheek, and his tongue slid between Jason’s lips.

Jason no longer cared about Tech or losing his scholarship. His tongue tapped Kyle’s in return and that was al that mattered.

Kyle took hold of Jason’s hand, their fingers intertwining. And without a word, they climbed upstairs.

In Kyle’s room the two boys stood beside the bed facing each other. Jason ran his tongue down Kyle’s cheek and into the little hol ows beneath his chin. Kyle moaned softly, his fingers digging into Jason’s shoulders and up through his thick hair.

Jason tugged Kyle’s shirt off, moving slowly at first. But as their kisses became more fervent, they were soon plucking eagerly to release each other’s belts. An instant later Kyle’s jeans dropped to the carpet, fol owed by Jason’s.

Withdrawing his lips from Kyle’s mouth, Jason gazed at their near-naked bodies, their desire evident beneath white undies. Quivering with excitement, his fingers slid beneath Kyle’s elastic band, touching him. An instant later their briefs crowned the piles binding their ankles.

Stumbling sideways, they tumbled into bed, legs thrashing to kick off shoes.

While Jason’s mouth devoured Kyle’s chest and shoulders, wanting to taste every inch of him, Kyle gasped, “Wait,” struggling to pry off Jason’s sneakers.

He hurled the shoes to the floor as Jason yanked his jeans off. Free at last, they pressed close together, the contours of their naked bodies molding perfectly, smooth and hard.

Jason climbed on top of him, al his anguish about Tech and Kyle and his sucky life swel ing inside him. And then they were heaving and moaning, as Jason clung to every part of Kyle, running his hands up to the curves of his shoulders, along his lean muscled upper arms, across his chest and down his back, wanting never to let go.

Kyle’s hot breath whispered into his ear, “Let it out, boy.”

Jason clutched him closer and harder, blood pounding in his ears, tighter and faster, until they were gasping and groaning, one fol owed by the other.

When it was over, they slipped beneath the sheets, their naked bodies sticky against each other. Jason pul ed the sheet over their heads, wishing they could stay this way forever.

“I love you,” Kyle said.

“Back at you,” Jason whispered, as a quiet rivulet, first from one eye, then the other, trickled across his cheeks. He rubbed against the pil ow, wiping his face. “I’m real y sorry. About what I said earlier, outside. I can be a creep sometimes, I know.”

“You’re upset.” Kyle kissed his cheek and brought his lips to Jason’s, tasting of salt. “This whole thing real y sucks.” Jason nodded. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“We’l figure it out,” Kyle said, his voice ful of confidence. “My mom says if two people are meant for each other, they’l end up together eventual y.”

Jason felt his tears ebbing. “Can I come visit you at Princeton?”

“You’d better!” Kyle hugged him tighter and Jason squeezed him back.

They lay sniffling and wiping their noses, tears dripping down their cheeks, as they breathed in the warm air beneath the sheets, ran their fingers in gentle circles on each other’s skin, and listened to the quiet hum of the aquarium.

“Hey,” Kyle whispered, after some time. “My mom and dad wil be home soon. You hungry?” In the kitchen, they were devouring the final spoonfuls from an ice-cream tub when Kyle’s parents came home—first his mom, then his dad.

Mrs. Meeks gazed at Jason head-on, with a curious look. Quickly he glanced away. Could she tel what Kyle and he had been up to? If she could, she didn’t let on.

“Can you stay for dinner?” she asked.

Jason phoned his mom to let her know. But he didn’t mention the scholarship—or rather, no scholarship—news.

During dinner, beneath the table, he rested his foot on Kyle’s, while Mr. Meeks talked about the championship. After dessert, Jason didn’t want to leave.

“Here, take my jacket,” Kyle told him. “It’s cold out.”

“I’m not going to take your jacket.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got another one.” Kyle shoved the jacket at him and said, “What are you smiling at?”

“You,” Jason told him, pul ing the jacket on. He’d miss Kyle fussing over him when he left for Princeton.

When Jason arrived home, his mom was sitting at the kitchen table, pasting news clippings about the championship into the scrapbook she kept of him.

Usual y he would’ve kidded her, asking if she wanted his autograph. But tonight he kept silent and bit into a fingernail.

“Hi, hon.” She glanced up cheerily. “Whose jacket is that?”

“Kyle’s.” He pul ed a chair out and sat down across from her, leaving the jacket on. “I left mine at school.” His mom’s eyebrows shot up like antennae. “How come?”

What was the best way to break the news to her?

“Um ...” Picking up the glue stick, he turned it between his fingers. “Something happened and I left school without it.” Her scissors cut across the newspaper, her eyebrows stil raised. “Are you going to tel me about it?” Jason gritted his teeth. Was there a best way to say it? He put the glue stick down and cleared his throat. “Um, I got a letter from Tech. They .

. . withdrew my scholarship.”

The skin around his mom’s eyes crinkled. She laid the scissors down and slumped back in her chair.

Jason looked down at the table and told her the rest. When he’d finished, he peered up at her.

She was gazing at him, tears quivering in her eyelids, her mouth clamped tight, clearly trying not to cry.

Jason shoved his hands into Kyle’s jacket pockets, struggling to keep stil .

His mom ran her fingertips along the edge of the scrap-book and began turning the pages—past certificates and news articles, postcards from basketbal camp, and team photos. Al the while she slowly shook her head from side to side.

“I know you’re angry,” he told her.

“I
am
angry . . .” Her voice trembled. “Because I want you to have the opportunities I didn’t have. And not make the mistakes I made.” He knew she meant giving up col ege.

“I’l stil go to col ege.” He pul ed his hands out from the jacket and reached across the table, touching her soft fingers. “It’l be okay. You’l see.”

They talked about his possible alternatives and he promised he’d apologize to Coach for walking out on him.

She gazed at the jacket. “Kyle seems like a good friend.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, suddenly warm beneath the jacket. Was his mom final y coming to terms with his being gay?

She wiped her cheek and forced a weak smile. “I want you to be happy, Jason.”

“I
am
happy.”

Did he mean it? Being with Kyle had given him new hope.

They talked for a while and he told her what Ms. MacTraugh had said that time about being true to himself and honest with others. Later he kissed his mom good night and headed to his room.

On the bed lay his cat, curled into the nook between his pil ow and the bedspread. Jason sat down to stroke it a moment.

Sometime after midnight he awoke to find himself stretched out on the bed, stil dressed, and the light on. He considered that for an instant and turned the lamp off. Then he pul ed Kyle’s jacket more tightly around him and fel back to sleep.

One evening that week, Nelson and his mom were watching TV together on the sofa, munching popcorn, when she asked, “Sweetie? Have you received any more information since your acceptance to Tech?”

Nelson nearly choked on a popcorn kernel. He had put off tel ing his mom he’d decided not to go to Tech, knowing she’d have a mental meltdown.

“Actual y—” he grabbed hold of the armrest, bracing himself “—I decided not to go to Tech.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched Felicia begin quaking and shaking. Her face turned crimson. Her eyes bulged.