The Price of Falling (2 page)

What queers? I asked.

The ones at the back of the field, Allen explained. There were rumors that they were getting into cars with guys for money.

Oh right, I said, realization dawning.

After Allen had given one of the pot-heads a black eye for his own sheer enjoyment, they all stopped hanging out in the parking lot. Probably moved on elsewhere. The rumors persisted though. A lot of the pot-heads looked alike, so no-one was sure who was doing it. I also heard some of the girls did it too. That was one way of earning extra money, I thought.

I had seen Jason do it. Jason got into cars with guys. Now I knew why. I heard he'd gotten into a fight with two meatheads over it. Sounds like they probably didn't expect anyone to fight back when they picked on people, let alone get black eyes themselves. Jason had come in one day with a split lip and a dark bruise on his cheek. Mr. Thompson held him back again after class; anyone who fought got in trouble but Jason still seemed disinterested.

The strange feeling in my stomach had started to grow. Whenever I was in the same class as Jason (when he bothered to show up) that feeling would intensify and travel down. I started to feel something like a sharp ache and a tightening in my groin, similar to when I had been with girls. I knew I wanted something but daren't admit to myself what it was.

In a History class Mr. Thompson walked down the room drawing the blinds in preparation for a video. We had been studying foreign history and today was the Scottish revolt against England. Mr. Thompson had decided to show us a yet another video instead of actually teaching today.

‘No talking during the film,’ Mr. Thompson said as he stalked back between the desks. ‘Make notes and pay attention.’

He stopped by Jason's desk and pulled away the scrap of paper he had been scribbling on, scrunching it up in his hands. ‘This is Celtic history, Jason Reilly. You might like to pay attention as not only are your grades dangerously low but this particular area of history should be of interest to you.’

Jason looked thoroughly unimpressed and sat back with his arms folded.

Mr. Thompson went back to his desk at the front of the room, tossing Jason's paper into the bin. ‘The Celts were notoriously difficult for the English to control. Watch and learn,’ he said, pushing the video in.

In the dimmed classroom I tried to watch the film. It was probably early seventies at least and slow paced compared to what we were all used to. The shots of the green countryside were beautiful though. I found myself glancing over at Jason. He wasn't really paying attention but not many of the class were. Occasionally Mr. Thompson would shout out to be quiet if he heard anyone whispering.

In the film the heroine was a pretty young girl, who typically had long red hair. One of the scenes had her roving over a green set of hills with a mesmerizing female voice singing in some strange language. Other than that, the film was pretty bad.

In other classes later on, my mind wandered back to that scene in the countryside with the lone voice singing mournfully. I remembered what Mr. Thompson had said. I hadn't realized Jason was of Celtic descent, but that would explain his red hair and pale skin.

Instead of remembering the actress on the windy hill top, my mind was picturing Jason standing there. However ridiculous that seemed.

I tried blinking the image away. The only other image that kept coming to my mind was Jason getting into a car with dark windows. I felt hot and couldn't concentrate.

Over the next few days I attempted to distract myself. If I let my mind wander it always seemed to find Jason. I only had to look at a car to remind myself what he did. My glances at him in class were getting longer. I had to position myself so it looked as though I was paying attention to the board but my eyes could rest comfortably on him. There was something magnetic about him, something that made me realize that just looking wasn't enough.

For the first time in my life, I wanted something. I wanted something real bad, even though I wasn't quite sure what it was yet. I knew I had to speak to Jason. I had a vague idea what I would ask but I had no idea how he would react. Jason was, if anything, unpredictable.

I saw an opportunity when yet again, Mr. Thompson asked Jason to stay behind after class was dismissed. Jason hadn't shown up for morning registration yesterday or some other classes, so it was inevitable Mr. Thompson would keep him back. As we filed out of the class and left Jason inside with Mr. Thompson, I went to my locker nearby with my heart pounding. I knew that as the next class was only minutes away, any talk Jason got from Mr. Thompson would be relatively brief; just a threat of detention or parental involvement then send him on his way.

So I waited. I stacked and re-stacked books in my locker real slow; ignoring the bedlam around me as students moved along to the next class, shouting and bustling. The noise died down fairly quickly, as a few minutes later everyone disappeared into rooms. There was no sign of the hall monitor, who usually started out the morning by the bleachers to deter the pot-heads from gathering.

The halls were empty now, quiet. I could hear distant talk from nearby class rooms, and very faintly could hear Mr. Thompson talking. I re-stacked my books again.

Finally the door swung open and Jason left. He looked no more petulant than he usually did, and began casually walking down the hall towards me. I quickly slammed my locker door and moved to walk next to him. He looked up in surprise. I was taller than him and a lot bigger.

‘Hey,’ I greeted, my heart hammering away at simply talking to him.

‘What do you want, jock?’ came his curt reply.

‘I want to ask you something,’ I said, walking beside him, my big strides easily matching his.

‘Well I'm busy, so get lost.’

I had figured on a harsh welcome from Jason. I pressed on, hoping to make him listen to me. ‘I've seen you get into cars with guys,’ I said, challenging.

Jason gave me a side long glance. ‘And?’

My throat was almost dry but I replied, ‘And you do things with them.’

He snorted a laugh in response. ‘Supposing that's true, so what?’

I swallowed in an effort to get out what I wanted to say. ‘What do you do?’ I asked.

Jason stopped and turned to face me. I stopped as well, clutched my bag to my shoulder and tried to look relaxed even though I was worried he could hear my heart beating.

Jason frowned, eyes searching my face. He looked down briefly, obviously sizing me up. When his eyes, which I could see now were a pale green, met mine again his frown lessened slightly.

‘I'm guessing,’ he said calmly, ‘that you're not planning to fight me?’

I shook my head once, captivated by his eyes. This was the most contact I had ever had with Jason, and up close he was even more striking.

‘So either you want to try and blackmail me or you're hitting on me. Which is it?’

His words made the situation real enough to make me panic. I'd tried not to think about it, tried to hide it from myself, but I knew what I wanted now.

I wanted him.

I could feel heat rushing to my face. I hoped it wasn’t noticeable; I forced myself to stay calm as I looked back at him. I knew I hadn't answered his question but the air between us was heavy with my unspoken need.

Jason's frown disappeared as his lips curled up in a brief smile. Another small glimpse of a laugh as he said, ‘Forget it, jock, it's never gonna happen.’

As quickly as he said it he turned away from me and carried on walking.

My reaction was slow, distracted by seeing Jason smile for the first time, his words reaching my ears but not my brain. By the time I had realized he'd shot me down he was halfway along the hall. I was too taken aback to follow and watched him walk away.

I was stunned for the rest of the day. I hadn't really approached Jason with a clear idea of what I wanted or how I'd expected our exchange to go, but that definitely had not been it. When the final bell went and I was on my way to football practice, I felt very strange. I'd never experienced these emotions before and I didn't like them. My head felt light but my shoulders were heavy. I couldn't feel much below my chest, almost like I was a shell with the bottom half blown away.

I wasn't concentrating. During practice I didn't see a tackle coming and got totally floored. I could hear some girls who had been sitting on the bleachers laugh in the distance.

Our coach and the team were leaning over me as I lay dazed on the ground.

‘Miller!’ Coach shouted. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘Are you alright, dude?’ Allen asked.

I nodded as best I could, but they made me sit out the rest of the practice.

Later that night when I lay awake in bed, I decided I would just forget that anything had ever happened today, and move on.

But the next day my eyes were drawn again to Jason. He trailed last into class and flopped down on to his seat. As he shifted and glanced up in my direction, our eyes met. Embarrassed, I looked away, trying to focus on Mr. Thompson. After what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds, my eyes slid back to Jason. He was gazing in the vague direction of the blackboard. I focused back on Mr. Thompson, but throughout the lesson couldn't help steal looks at Jason.

Near the end of the class he had shifted sideways in his seat, always ready to rush off. When I glanced at him this time I was surprised again when he suddenly looked at me. Automatically my eyes flickered down, but hopeful for some reason I dared to look up. Jason wasn't looking at me now but as I stared at him, my stomach doing flips, he slowly turned his eyes back to me. I didn't look away and after locking eyes momentarily, he was the one who averted his gaze.

Unexpectedly, I saw him smile.

The bell sounded and the class rose to its feet, chattering and shouting. Stunned, I got up slowly and stared after Jason. He left his desk and walked off, but I thought I could see him smile again.

The thrill I got from this exchange of looks and seeing him smile made me think maybe I shouldn't give up just yet.

I was confused, longing for something I couldn't quite put into words.

Being Friday, there was a party on at the quarterback's house. His parents were away and he was making the most of it. I needed to be distracted, have some fun. I went along, drank a beer and made out with a girl who seemed interested in me. As I held onto her neck and kissed her, I couldn't help but feel frustrated that this wasn't really what I wanted.

When I was leaving the party I overheard a small group of girls by a car discussing how they were getting home. I noticed they weren't the usual girl-next-door or cheerleader types. They wore slightly ripped jeans and had teased hair but weren't totally scruffy. One of those transient crowds that always hang out with everyone, never quite fitting in with one group for long.

As I walked past they were debating how they were all going to fit in the car, and which direction to go in first. One of the girls said they had to go over to West Hills, which wasn't too far from here. An idea came to me then, and I helpfully offered two of them a ride. After the girls had weighed up whether I was drunk or a creep, they agreed to accept the ride home.

As I drove and they giggled in the back, I struck up conversation. I didn't know them but I had seen them about at school. I figured if I was going to ask anyone, might as well be these girls. I said I needed to take my sister out somewhere, and casually asked where else was cool to hang out. They shrugged and mostly said ‘I dunno,’ but then one said, ‘We go to Eddy's.’

‘Oh, the pool hall, right?’

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ she replied.

Eddy's, I thought.

I was at my charming best, and asked if they knew my class-mate Jason.

Oh yeah, they replied.