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“Hey boy, what do you think I should wear today?” I said softly as I scratched my dog, Ace, behind the ear while looking at the rather plain clothes I had tossed onto my bed. My dad and I got him a few years ago on my birthday when he was still a little puppy. We kind of grew up together from the time I got him and, when at home and alone, he was there – someone for me to talk to, and someone for me to remain silent with. A companion and a friend. Perhaps my only friend. And I had needed him most when my Dad passed away two years ago.

One of my favourite memories had been captured in a picture that I had framed and put on my desk. Mom took it when Dad and I had got Ace to stop jumping in the piles of Autumn leaves at the park we drove to during Thanksgiving morning some years ago. It was me and Dad, his arm slung over my shoulder as I held onto Ace when he had been a little smaller. He was a Great Dane mix, and black all over. Mom never did really like him. She tolerated him, but most days she just ignored him, going about with her business as if he wasn’t there. I’m not sure Ace liked her very much either.

After Dad passed away, she wanted us to get rid of him. There was no way that was happening. I wouldn’t lose him. We had a nasty argument and I was in tears. She wasn’t going to spend a dime on him, so I resolved to find myself a job to get a bit of money.

We lived outside the city in a small town. She became a single mom with a kid to look after, and I was a kid looking after the dog, though most days I felt like it was Ace who looked after me. She didn’t make much, and soon we found ourselves living from paycheck to paycheck. I started working at a used book store run by a very quiet but pleasant old man. His name was Mr. Jefferson. And it wasn’t just an old and used bookstore. There was also a section of antiques. It was a rather large place, and it was cluttered when I first started working there. To my surprise, we had a lot of customers most days. We rarely spoke other than when I had to ask him something, although on some days when fewer customers than usual came, he found himself talking to me, picking up a book and telling me some of the stories, weighing an item in his hand and telling me what it was as he tried to spin a story about who it once belonged to. I worked a few hours after school, and some more on the weekends.

I later learned that Mr. Jefferson had a grandson a year older than me and a junior who went to my school. He was one of the few boys I had found myself constantly glancing at, knowing that I had to be careful not to get caught. But instinctively I knew he was also the kind of guy I didn’t ever want to mess with. He was a tough guy with a band of other guys consisting of both juniors and seniors just like him, and although they didn’t look like the kind to cause trouble or bully other kids, if you were a quiet and shy nobody like me, you know to stay out of the way of popular kids like him. His name was Cody, and he was one of the more well-known guys on the basketball team. This afternoon at school we were going to have a home game with another school team.

Ace rubbed his paw against my foot and nudged me in the butt, and I laughed a little. “Fine, fine. Must I do everything myself?” I mumbled still feeling slightly groggy. Hey, who could blame me for being sleepy at this ungodly hour in the morning? I hated waking up early in the cold season when it was still dark outside, and being a teenager I was sure I needed about nine to ten hours of sleep every night, at least!

After changing into proper and warm clothing, I made my way into our rather barren kitchen where I met my mom sipping her morning coffee by the table as her eyes slowly skimmed the newspaper.

“Hi Momma,” I said to her as I entered.

“Mmm…” she said in a breathy tone without looking up. With Ace following closely behind me, I put out some breakfast for him. I made myself some toast and when they were ready, I spread a little jam on them from the small plastic packets my mom brought home from her job at the diner in the neighbourhood. Ace sat down and ate his food by my feet as I bit through mine with a glass of milk on the side.

“I can’t believe what I’m reading these days. All of these homosexuals spreading their influences over this country. For all we know, there are gays lurking in the government, bribing and coercing, somehow getting along with the politicians. They’re getting married from state to state, with their speeches and indecent parades claiming for ‘marriage equality’. What garbage,” she said, putting as much loathe and disgust into that last word. Garbage.

I hated it whenever she talked like that. I had started realizing that I was different from all of the other boys at my school, and it was confusing to me. I didn’t know why I had these feelings towards other boys. I didn’t know anyone in my school that was like me. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, to share this secret with. Some days I felt so alone, so confused, so scared. Whenever she spoke about ‘those’ kinds of people to me, all I felt were fear, sadness, and hurt. I didn’t know if what I was feeling now would continue on for the rest of my life, if I was going to be this way forever. I didn’t know what these feelings meant. But I did know that I was unhappy with my situation and that I had to keep it a secret.

“And just because it’s Valentine’s Day today, they think they can include themselves in it? Only real love exists between a man and a woman. I don’t want or need to see a picture of two men or two women together. It’s indecent and disgusting. All of this equality garbage is going too far.

“And then there’s this!” she hissed as she continued skimming across the paper. “They’ve even got the power to go into schools and pervert children! Does your school have this group? The gay-straight-alliance?” she flicked her eyes at me, demanding an answer.

My heart pounded in my chest. I blinked several times, hesitating, not knowing how to respond. I knew there was one in my school, but that no one was a part of it. It was a dying group, and the only one or two kids I ever saw in it I knew for certain were straight. I had sneaked a few peeks into the classroom that held the meetings a few times, but I had never dared to step foot in one. It would be a dead give-away, even if there were only a few people in the room. But they were kids my age, and in my school; kids who see me in the hallways and knew who I was. And in high school, rumours traveled like wild fire.

“Wha…what?” I stuttered, appearing flustered. I try to zone out whenever she speaks to me about these things, retreating into my head, trying to block out her voice. But it isn’t good to live inside your head. It makes you feel even more isolated and withdrawn, shutting everyone else out and locking yourself in. The days drag slowly and the nights crawl by with loneliness.

“Does that school you go to have this…this GSA group?” she said in a lower voice, sounding slightly annoyed at what appeared to be my inattentiveness.

“Uh…yeah…yes we do…”

“We? You’re not a part of it, are you?”

“Nuh-no! No, why would I be?”

“Hmm…” she narrowed her eyes at me and then slowly leaned back. “Have any of those kids tried to get you to join? Have they tried to talk to you?”

“No. Mom…Momma, can we please not talk about this?”

“Those people are sick. I want you to stay away from them.”

“Momma, please!” I said, louder than I had intended. She was annoying and hurting me, and I guess my tone of voice caught her attention.

She stopped abruptly and her nostrils thinned as she breathed in deeply, her eyes piercing into my soul, trying to read my mind. “Ryan…what I say bothers you. Why?” she said suspiciously, her voice soft and quiet, yet eerie and almost threatening, testing me.

“It’s nothing Momma…” I said nervously, feeling cornered. I felt Ace move to sit up straight, his body stiff and ears perked.

“Then why did you tell me to stop. What I said bothers you. Why?” She paused, waiting for me to respond. I didn’t. “You need to tell me. I have a right to know. I’m your mother,” she continued, her voice still of the same foreboding quality, but slowly hardening, becoming more commanding.

“I just don’t like talking about this stuff,” I said irritably as I fumbled with the last bit of the jam sandwich, trying to shove it down and feeling like my mouth and throat had turned into the desert. I quickly got up, put my plate in the sink and made my way out of the kitchen. I wanted her to just stop. I needed to get away.

“Ryan, where are you going?” she stood up, her voice hardening.

“I have to get to school.”

“The bus isn’t arriving until fifteen more minutes. What’s the hurry?” She started following me out of the kitchen. “You have to wait for it anyway. You’re just trying to avoid me. What are you trying to hide from me?”

I was starting to feel exasperated. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you! It’s nothing,” I grumbled with frustration.

“Young man, you do not speak to me in that tone of voice! You are lying to me,” she grabbed my arm, pulling me back to turn and face her. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting very strange for quite some time now, and I’m losing my patience. At first I thought it was because of him passing away, but I’m not so sure anymore. I don’t like it when you hide things from me. I’m your mother, you will listen to me, and you will answer me,” she said through clenched teeth, menacingly. I have never seen her have an outburst before, as her approach is more cold, calm, and threatening, with just the hint of something dangerous bubbling beneath the surface.

“Mom, I’m not hiding anything! Stop it, you’re hurting me!” I winced as she tightened her grip, digging her fingers in. I was panicking now and I started to regret having said or done what I did. I should’ve just stayed there and sat listening to her impersonally rather than appearing upset and unsettled. It’s not like voicing my opinion or showing my defiance could make a change, anyway. At least not one in my favour. But I was getting really tired of hearing her talk like that all the time. I was tired of feeling hurt and having people like me, with my feelings, spat on. I was tired of the hate.

I pulled my arm from her grasp when Ace entered the room and started barking and growling. She tried to hush him, shooing him away before she turned back to me. But he wouldn’t stop. “Ryan, I am not done with you! We are not finished!” She spoke in a louder tone, her face twitching to keep herself from shouting.

I ignored her statements as I snatched my knapsack and put on my jacket at the front door. I was frustrated, I was angry, and I tried to let those emotions take center stage by focussing on them so I wouldn’t be scared and tired.

When I stepped outside of my house, I noticed that the ground was wet from last night’s cold rainfall and a distance on the road ahead of me, to the left I spotted a car that had swerved and collided into a lamp post. The police were there and the people were cleaning up the scene. A tow truck was attached onto the car, and as they slowly cleared the area and started going on their way, I spotted the distinct yellow school bus coming towards me.

I stepped back as it came to a stop and opened the doors to let me on, and as I said good morning to the bus driver, taking the steps up one by one, I looked down the small aisle and took my usual seat in the middle by the window. I was always the first to get on in the mornings, and the last to get off in the afternoons.



----oooOOOooo----



            “Are you sure you don’t want to? C’mon Ryan, just one kiss on the cheek and you’ve got your free chocolate,” a girl in my history class, Tracy, whined at me. She had gone around asking a bunch of the guys to give her kisses on the cheek, and she was now on her second bag of chocolates. She was a pretty girl, and she was known around the school because her brother was both the president of the student council and the captain of our school’s senior boys’ basketball team.

            “Uh…haha! I’m…I’m good thanks,” I said sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at being asked to kiss another girl on the cheek. First of all, I wasn’t interested in girls, and second of all…can you imagine? Me? Kissing another…person?! I’m too shy for that.

            Tracy let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay,” she said, but then smiled to let me know it really was just fun and games. “But I’ll give you a chocolate just ‘cause you look so cute blushing.”

“What? No! I’m not blushing!” I exclaimed in horror, and to my horror, I noticed my cheeks starting to get hot. Some of the kids around me snickered.

“Yes you are!” she said teasingly as she plopped a heart shaped chocolate in front of me on my desk before skipping off to find another boy to give away her chocolates to. Or rather, to get kisses from.

“Ms. Tracy Morgan,” our history teacher, Mr. McMillan started with feigned exasperation. He had a yellow-brown blazer on and greying hair, but he was well and alive, and among one of the ‘veteran’ teachers, having taught here for decades and had always been a favourite among both students and teachers. “If you continue chasing boys like this all day, you’ll be losing more than just chocolates. I am currently marking your tests, remember?” he didn’t hesitate to remind her and the class. “Now maybe if you could find your seat we could get started with our class? I have a few things to go over before we all head down to the library for you guys to find books and use the computers for your essay due in three weeks’ time.”

We took out our books and pens, settling ourselves into our seats. Mr. McMillan started handing out sheets to our class, and when he got back to the front of the room and prepared to speak, there was a knock on the door and a group of kids peeked in.

“Or not…” he let a puff of air out, letting his lips flap together noisily as his pupils slid to the corner of his eyes lazily. “Come one in…” he said with a bored drawl.

“Hey Sir!” the group of three kids – two girls and one boy – slowly walked in with sheepish smiles, knowing they were interrupting a class.

“Uh-huh, get on with it,” he said with mock boredom, pushing his glasses up. But you could tell that his eyes were smiling and he was trying to hold back the one that wanted to form on his lips. He was always a nice teacher and a funny guy. I liked him. Heck, everybody liked him.

“Sorry Sir,” one of the girls said with a goofy grin on her face.

I sat there quietly as they announced that they were here to give out Valentine candy-grams – Hershey’s Kisses and heart shaped chocolates that had a little message from the person who had sent it. Some were from secret admirers, but most were from friends.

As they started, a fourth boy entered the classroom, and he was welcomed with an eruption of delighted squeals from the girls and cheers from the boys. He had in one hand a small bouquet of red roses, many four or five, and in the crook of the other arm he held a giant teddy bear. With a slightly flushed face and a crooked smile he walked his way over to a girl at the far end of the room. And then he asked her, “Will you come with me to the dance?”

Of course, she was blushing and embarrassed, and of course, she said yes. And of course the class whooped and cheered as she stood up to hug him and receive his gifts.

Once all of the commotion was over, the three kids at the front of the class continued to pass out the candy-grams. A lot more people ended up getting them than I had thought, though I just sort of attributed it to friends having fun with each other. That or they wanted to help out with the fundraising. Even our teacher got a few.

I sort of aimlessly flipped through my books and class notes, not really having much go through my mind.

Then, one of the girls walked by my desk and put down a candy-gram in front of me. I straightened up and looked at her curiously. She smiled and shrugged one of her shoulders. “I think it’s someone special,” she said.

I looked at it, and then looked at everyone else’s, and I noticed that mine was different. Whereas everyone who had gotten one had a chocolate or two attached to a little slip of paper with some writing, mine had about four or five chocolates tied up inside a red net that was attached by a ribbon to a single red rose. Also attached to the two items was a Valentine card.

But who? Who would give this to me? Some girl who had been watching me in secret and I didn’t even know? But…I’m barely noticed. By anyone. How could this be? Maybe it was a mistake. What if it was a boy? No, that’s way too hopeful. That’s wishful thinking. Yet I started to realize that my heart was beating faster and harder. It had to be a secret admirer or something, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten the rose and the extra batch of chocolates. Maybe this was a mistake.

I tried to rack my brain to come up with a list of possible people who would give me something like this. I looked at the bottom of the card before opening it, and right there, written in someone’s handwriting that I didn’t recognize, was my name and home form.

This was meant for me. For me!

Okay, okay, I needed to calm down. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of it. It’s just silly high school stuff, right? But…it’s high school! Not like how it was back in the 3rd grade in Mrs. Marshall’s class, where it was all about getting as many cool cards and chocolates as possible. In high school – well, also in middle school too – this stuff starts getting…important! It’s…it’s a big deal. Or is it? No, it is, and if it’s some girl, then I…I don’t know what to do! How am I going to get out of this if she wants to, you know, go steady with me or something? Uh-oh, that would not be good.

But here I am, sitting here, getting all worked up with possibilities. Not reality. I hadn’t even opened the card yet, for the love of Pete!

I mentally slapped my forehead and slowly started to tear the heart shaped sticker keeping the edges of the card stuck together. When it was finally open, I read it through quickly. Way too quick. I slowly down and I read it again, and the slower I read, the faster and harder my heart pounded. I felt out of breath. I read it and then looked at the front to see my name. This really wasn’t a mistake. This was meant for me. And it read:



Happy Valentine’s Day Ryan!



Will you be mine, and will you go to the dance with me?



-Cody Jefferson



            I was dumbfounded.

There were only two possible explanations. The first was that he somehow knew and meant what he wrote. That must mean that I hadn’t been careful, and that I had somehow given myself away, looked at him for too long too many times. He was a year older than me, so he wasn’t in any of my classes. But I did find my eyes gravitate to him all the time whenever he was around me, whether it be in the halls or in the cafeteria. And thinking back, I did notice that he had caught me on multiple occasions. All of which I’d dart my eyes away as fast as I could, gulping and looking flustered as I mentally berated myself for being so careless.

            But a few days ago during one of their practices in the afternoons at lunch hour, I found myself on the balcony that was the upper running track among a mass of other students watching the basketball practice. I sometimes looked at the other boys, but I was most entranced by Cody. They were the only times I ever got to see his skin. He was in basketball uniform, an athletic tank top and shorts. The colours were white and red. But that didn’t matter. What got my heart pumping more than usual was that I got to see his skin; his strong, sinewy arms gleaming with sweat; his slender calves defined from running. I would feel myself going weak whenever he moved in such a way that his tank top would reveal a little bit of the part between his underarm and his chest, that bit a little below the shoulder; the way he ran and moved on the shiny wooden gym floor.

            And after the coach had blown the whistle, after the guys slowed to a walk, clapping backs and shaking hands; after the crowds from the bleachers and the upper running track had calmed down from their cheering and started dissipating, leaving the area, I found Cody had looked up and caught me, once again. I looked away, my eyes wandering around the spacious athletic arena, moving from player to player. But he didn’t waver, didn’t take his eyes off of me. I looked back at him.

            The look in his eyes…it wasn’t a threat, a challenge. Instead, to my astonishment, as he huffed and puffed from the demands of the activity, he gave me a small smile. Just a small one. And then he waved. And I waved back, my hand feeling like it didn’t belong to me, surprised that I even managed to do it. But then his boys surrounded him, put their arms around him, shaking his hand. One of the guys, the captain of the team, looked up and saw me. He clapped Cody on the back to get his attention and nodded up at me. I panicked and had turned away.

I went home so happy that day, with a skip in my feet. I was floating.

            And then the second explanation was that this was all a joke, or worse some sort of prank to fool and hurt me, to make fun of me. But still…

            …I was dumbfounded. And I felt more alive, happy, and terrified then I ever had.



----oooOOOooo----



            Because of the fact that we had a home game today – a basketball game against another school team in the afternoon – they decided that if everyone bought a ticket, the afternoon classes would all be cancelled and that almost everyone in our school would show up to support our team. Of course, there was also the issue that today was Valentine ’s Day and that there was a dance that had to happen, so it was to happen after the game was over.

            It was the beginning of lunch hour and I was looking for a few books to use for my history essay. I had bought a ticket to the game but wasn’t planning on staying. Instead, as soon as I had grabbed my books I planned to go home. There was no way I could find Cody to know if this was all real. In fact, it still didn’t feel real to me. It was too good, too good to be true. He was probably getting ready with his teammates for the game, and I didn’t think it would be a good idea to go anywhere near the gym or locker room just to find him. I resolved to go home and think about this. I needed to think through what I was going to do.

After finding about three books that proved promising, I started making my way over to the school librarian’s desk. As soon as I had laid my books down, the door opened and Cody stepped in. He looked around and when he saw me, his eyes lit up and a broad, elated smile emerged.

“Hey Ryan!” he said as he jogged his way over to me.

“Not too loud Mr. Jefferson,” the lady behind the counter said.

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered back to her, looking kind of goofy.

“Um, h-hi Cody,” I managed to stutter. It was really him, standing right before me. Of course I was going to stutter!

“Hey Ryan,” he said again, his smile looking a little shyer now. “Did you get my, uhh, the thing I sent you, the card?” he said nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“Y-yeah, yeah I did,” I replied, my heart rate spiking once again.

“Could I, uh, maybe talk to you? Are you free right now? Are you busy?”

“N-no. I mean, y-yeah, sure. We…we can maybe move down to the bookshelves or…or the tables at the, um, the far end.”

“Yeah, yeah that’d be great,” he said. He started leading the way to the bookshelves, and soon we walked deep into the back where it was secluded.

I nervously shifted my feet as I chewed on my lip, my eyes moving between his face and back down. He looked kinda nervous too.

He reached out to gently touch my hand, to reassure me. I think that was all I needed to know that this wasn’t a joke, because I had never been more excited. I was shaking all over. And the comforting thing was he was shaking too.

“So…will you go to the dance with me?” he asked, his voice shaking like he was almost scared. He must have been terrified.

“Yes!” I gasped, my throat hoarse and dry.

“Okay. That’s…that’s really great!” he said, his face glowing now.

“Oh, but…” I started, having suddenly realized that I didn’t know how I was going to get from home to school, not unless I walked all the way here, which would take a while. It would be a really long walk, I knew that. I knew there was no way my mom would agree to driving me here. She would demand to know everything, why I was going, what I’ll be doing, and a million other questions.

“But?” he asked, his face suddenly went back to looking scared and nervous.

“I…I’m not sure how I can get back to school. I mean, I could walk...”

“Do you live kinda far?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, that’s okay,” a look of relief went over him. He thought I was going to say something bad! “I’ll give you a ride here and back. Where’s your place?”

I gave him my address and directions, and he was familiar with the area. After that, he said he had to go and get ready for the game. I wished him good luck and he gave me his thanks.

“How did you find me here?” I asked.

“Tracy,” he said. “a sister of one of my friends. Well, alright, I’ll see you this afternoon? At around six?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah that’d be great,” I smiled.

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he said, looking all shy. I sort of giggled, and he sort of skipped out of the library.

“No running, Mr. Jefferson!” the librarian said as he passed by her. I laughed softly, my body still quivering with excitement.

“Sorry Mrs. Smith!” he whispered back.



----oooOOOooo----