Action

I can’t even begin to explain how angry and frustrated I was that morning. It felt like the walls of my reality were crushing me as they fell. Kathlene tried to engage me in some conversation on the way to the school, but I wouldn’t have any of it. I watched the scenery pass by as she drove, not that there was much to see at five in the morning on a cold, blustery winter day anyway. When she dropped me off, Kathlene told me she was limiting my activity only because she loved me and cared about what happened to me. I got out of the car and slammed the door without a backward glance.

In the locker room, I changed into my practice clothes and started running before practice officially started. Coach Navarro gave me the evil eye and when I pretended not to see him he called me over.

"Kellam, from now on, you run when the team runs," Navarro said with narrowed eyes. "Understand?"

I walked away without comment, but I’m sure my stormy expression told him the whole story. I’d only completed three laps and I was totally unsatisfied.

The entire team was ready to start the running ten minutes later. I surged forward and kicked up my pace well above what I normally did. Toward the end of the run, I had lapped half of the team. Coach called me over again.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" He asked, moderately perturbed. "You practice just like you always have. No overdoing it. No excessive extra effort. Got it? I’m watching you."

I did as he demanded, again without comment. I wouldn’t argue with him since I knew it to be pointless. Nothing would change and there was a good possibility my situation could worsen. Kathlene had cut out virtually every time period where I normally worked myself hard. I had to make up for that somehow, but I’d have to find another way. Coach Navarro had effectively removed any opportunity during wrestling practice save scrapping on the mat, but I had other concerns there.

Coach Navarro put us into sparring immediately after the run. I was paired off with one of the juniors who had confronted Mac and who liked to pound me for interfering. Chuck Jeffries’ parents were teachers at the high school where we attended. As a result, he had an "untouchable" complex, believing he was protected if anyone wanted to fight back against his depredations. If I was going to keep to the terms of my surrender, as I’d come to view the previous day’s meeting, he needed to learn a lesson.

As the scrap began, I glared at him and when I spoke it was in a cold voice.

"You’re not going to use me as a punching bag any more, Jeffries," I informed him.

"How’re you going to stop me, ass wipe?" He asked with an ugly smile.

We locked up shoulder to shoulder, each trying to get an advantage.

"You’ll see if you keep it up. This is the only warning I’m going to give."

He laughed in my face.

I don’t really know what happened. My vision clouded and I moved on instinct. I took him down and landed on him as hard as I could. Jeffries was so surprised by my sudden offensive that he couldn’t defend himself. The next thing I remember clearly was getting up and leaving Jeffries lying in a tight ball on the mat. As Coach Navarro tended to him, I walked off to the side and leaned against the wall, watching the man tend my enemy. The kid finally sat up with an arm across his gut. He saw me standing there silently observing his humiliation. I couldn’t stop a grim smile from forming on my mouth.

"I’m gonna kill you, Kellam!" Chuck barked through gritted teeth.

I shrugged and stared back at him impassively as he managed to get off the mat and lay back down on the gym floor. Once he was settled, Coach Navarro came directly to where I was standing and grabbed my shoulder, intending to lead me into the hall outside the gym for a private chat. I jerked away from him, causing him to lose his grip as I put a small distance between us. He whirled on me, and I stood up to him.

"Don’t touch me," I warned stolidly. "I’ll come with you, but you don’t need to grab me like that."

"Get your ass out in the hall, Kellam," the man said impatiently.

I glared for a moment and then preceded him out of the gym. Once in the hall he confronted me, his face a study of controlled anger and concern.

"What’s going on between you and Jeffries?" Navarro demanded.

"Nothing," I asserted grimly. "I landed on him. That’s all."

My coach demanded, "Nothing my ass. Tell me what’s..."

"What did you tell me in that... that meeting yesterday?" I shot back. "You said you’d bench me if I didn’t take better care of myself. Well, I’m trying."

"How in the hell does beating on Jeffries qualify as taking care of yourself?" Navarro asked sharply

I didn’t respond, leaving him to make the connection. Meeting his gaze wasn’t as difficult as I would have thought. I was still angry, and that anger made me bolder.

"Jeffries..."

"Can I go back to practice now?" I asked, deliberately interrupting him.

He stared hard at me then nodded.

"Kellam, no more of this bullshit. If you have a problem, work it out off the mat. And I don’t mean fighting either. If you get suspended for a fight, you’re off the team."

I glowered at him for a long moment and responded, "I won’t start any fights, but I’ll finish any fight I get in to."

I then turned on my heel and walked back into the gym leaving a contemplative coach in my wake. How was I supposed to settle things if I couldn’t defend myself? More importantly, how was I going to keep myself safe from the regular assaults I suffered in practice? That was just as important since it was one of the terms of my capitulation to Kathlene’s requirements.

When I walked back into the gymnasium a friend of Jeffries’ was waiting for me. He was another of my tormentors. Greg Ross wasn’t too bright, but he was an excellent wrestler. I figured the direct approach was best as any subtlety was sure to be lost on his limited intelligence. As I set up to begin, I looked him straight in the eye and gave him what I hoped was a demonic grin.

"What’re you laughing at?" Greg questioned menacingly.

"You saw what happened to Jeffries?" I asked evilly. "I really enjoyed that."

"Yeah, I saw. You’re going to pay for that," Ross spat.

"No I won’t."

Greg looked confused.

"You don’t get it. What I did to Jeffries was just for openers. You wanna know what I can really do? Keep riding me and you’ll see first hand! I’m not your tackling dummy anymore. You guys’ll have to find someone else who won’t fight back."

He hesitated a fraction of a second before he closed with me. The idiot was so angry that he tried to land some shots on me rather than wrestle, where he had the clear advantage. When he hit me or tried to, I landed a shot on him. He’d elbow me, I’d outright punch him. He’d plant a knee, I’d throw an elbow. Coach Navarro’s whistle blew, but we remained engaged until he physically separated us. Ross was growing a good black eye and had a bloody nose. I had my share of new bruises, but I think Ross came out of it worse than I did.

"Practice is over! Everyone hit the showers! Ross, go get that looked at. I’ll talk to you later. Kellam, get your ass over here!" He bellowed and walked out into the empty hall again.

As expected, Coach Navarro was furious with me. The man was clearly agitated by the day’s developments. As the rest of my teammates returned to the locker room, I calmly walked to where Navarro stood, impatiently shifting from foot to foot with his ire. When the gym was empty, he wasted no time.

"What did I just tell you?" He bellowed. "Are you stupid? Are you deaf? Tell me why I shouldn’t kick you off the team and suspend you on top of it?"

"Look!" I snapped, coming right back at him. "You, Dr. Lancaster and the others crippled my ability to defend myself! You want me to remember where all those bruises come from," I said sarcastically, "and don’t give me the ability to do something about it!"

"Who else?"

"You want me to tell you who so you can kick them off the team, right?" I grated, again heavy with sarcasm. "That’s pretty short-sighted. What happens when those guys get kicked off the team? Sure, I don’t get beat up in practice, but at least here there’s a coach around to keep it at a low level. If you kick them off, they’ll think I ratted them out and try to kill me. They could do it, too, because no one will be around to stop them then. If you want me to tell you, I’ll tell you, but don’t complain if I get into fights with these guys, because it’ll be you who put me in that position! And you think I’m stupid? At least I’m thinking things through!"

He was quiet when I ended my tirade, his expression altering by the second as he mulled over my words. I couldn’t help but display the resentment I felt toward the entire situation. For a long while the man stared at me and through me. The strain of meeting his gaze grew with every second that passed. I finally turned away from the silent man and went to the locker room and the showers therein. A backward glance told me he was still staring at me as I entered the locker room.

I saw Ross and Jeffries talking with a couple of their friends as I walked to my locker. I could feel an intense malice radiating from them as they watched me walk by. Once at my locker, I undressed with a sense of foreboding. I was most vulnerable when I was naked and wet.

Pushing past the fear, I walked into the showers and wet myself down in the ball-constricting frigid temperature I preferred after a workout. It wasn’t long until Ross and Jeffries followed me in. I immediately rinsed off and went back to my locker, drying myself as I went. Weaver, another one of their cohorts, was waiting for me.

"Hey, Kellam," he sneered in a singsong voice, "Lose something?"

He was dangling my wallet in front of me between two fingers. I knew it was an opening, and he wanted me to react to him. I couldn’t do that. As nonchalantly as I could, I continued drying myself and put my shorts on before turning to face him.

Sam Weaver stood five-foot-ten and weighed about one-sixty. He was six inches taller and twenty pounds heavier than I was, which gave him the advantage in any physical confrontation. My advantage was I could outthink him even if I happened to be comatose.

"Graduating to a petty thief, Sam?"

He looked confused at my response. It was definitely not what he expected.

"Tell you what, Sam," I said lazily. "You give my wallet back and I won’t report you to Navarro. That’d get you kicked off the team in no time, I’m sure."

"You goddamn mother fucker!" He spouted menacingly.

"Hey, you did this to yourself," I rebutted calmly. "I didn’t tell you to steal my wallet out of my locker. How many other wallets have you taken, by the way?"

"I didn’t take no other wallets!"

"Then why did you take mine?" I asked innocently.

Sam was right at the boiling point. If I taunted him one more time, he could attack me. I watched him carefully, imagining the gears in his mind creaking around, slowed by rust from lack of use. Coach Navarro interrupted us just as Sam opened his mouth.

"What’s going on here, Weaver? Kellam?"

"Sam found my wallet and was just giving it back to me. Weren’t you, Sam."

If Navarro hadn’t been there, Weaver would have charged me. Instead, he threw my wallet into my chest and walked away. I caught it as it bounced off of my body and calmly went back to getting dressed. The coach studied me with an impenetrable expression as I dressed, observing the new bruises already forming on my body.

"You want to tell me what just happened?" The coach asked.

"You saw what happened," I replied without inflection. "He returned my wallet to me."

"Brian," he began quietly, surprising me by the use of my first name and by the compassion in his voice. He stood beside me and placed his hand on my bare shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. "Part of our job is protecting you from yourself, son. Another part is protecting you from others."

"I told you what’ll happen if you do anything," I reminded him, meeting his eyes. "You can’t protect me off school grounds."

"I’m reporting this to Dr. Lancaster," he stated.

"Your prerogative," I allowed. "As I told you, don’t get pissed when I have to defend myself."

He walked away after a moment, shaking his head slowly. I completed dressing and then walked out of the locker room. The halls weren’t very crowded as I made my way through the Commons E-Block hall and over to the Commons One hall where my locker was. I saw Chris at his locker across the commons in Commons Two hall. After packing my bag for my first four classes, I ambled over to where he stood.

"Hey Chris."

"Hi, Brian."

"Mom talked to you?"

"Yup," Chris replied. "No workouts unless I’m with you, and no longer than two hours when we do."

"This is so fucking unfair!" I bitched.

"Why, Brian?"

"I didn’t do anything wrong! That’s why!"

"So you’re going to take it out on anyone who comes near you?" Chris asked ominously.

Chastened, I said, "I’m sorry, Chris. You didn’t deserve that. I just hate feeling out of control. They didn’t give me a choice!"

"Mom filled me in on everything. I kinda agree with them." I gaped at my best friend as he continued, "You overdo it, Bri. You really do. How much sleep do you get a night? Four, maybe five hours? You still have nightmares. You don’t come into my room anymore, but I hear you yelling in the middle of the night, so don’t deny it. You can’t run on empty and expect to keep the engine going, Brian. You know that."

"You too, huh?" I asked petulantly as I crossed my arms and looked away.

"It ain’t like that," Chris said sympathetically. "We all care about you, Bri. Mom and I love you! Can we help it if we don’t want to see you crash and burn?"

An uneasy silence settled between us. Chris pulled his books out of his locker and shut it.

"Look, I need to get going. Mr. Smith said he would be in this morning to help me."

I said, "I could help you, Chris."

"I know," he said after a slight pause, "but I already told him I’d be there."

"Oh. Okay. See ya."

I walked away from him and wandered down to the library. There was twenty minutes until class, and I definitely didn’t want to spend it in front of that ass Dr. Connor. The guy gave me the creeps.

Once in the library, I sat at a table in a corner and started looking over the geometry lesson the good doctor was about to spew at us. I’d already done any assignment he could give us, so it was all review for me.

My mind began to drift away from the math a few minutes after I sat down. What was I going to do? I couldn’t just give in. I had to keep some control over my life. I didn’t want to go home, so that left faking everyone out; making them think I had given in, which is what I had pretty much decided to do in the first place.

The warning bell caught me by surprise. I had been glaring at my math book for fifteen minutes and hadn’t even realized it. Kicking myself, I got up and made it to the classroom without incident.

The rest of the morning passed normally. I caught myself daydreaming a lot though. Connor had to get my attention twice and Mrs. Hill threatened to send me to the office if I couldn’t stay awake. Stay awake? I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t paying attention, but I wasn’t sleeping. Mr. Ames knew I was keeping up, so after taking attendance, he let me be. I spent the entire period thinking about how I was going to handle Jeffries and his boys. I’d made my stand and really ticked them off. The rumor mill told me I had kneed Jeffries in the ‘nads and given Ross a black eye. They’d be coming after me as sure as I was breathing and I knew it wouldn’t be in practice. Even Weaver was bright enough to realize the coaches would keep them from hurting me any worse than they already had.

Class ended. The bell surprised me again. I gathered up my things, walked out to meet Chris and walk down the C-Block hall to my locker. It was then I saw Jeffries talking to Ross and Weaver right at the corner of the Commons One hallway, making my route to my locker difficult. In an instant I decided to try and use Chris as a shield to block them from seeing me. I didn’t want another confrontation.

As we approached them, Chris, who was oblivious to my predicament, said, "Are you going to the cafeteria, Brian?"

The three juniors looked up and saw me. They moved to block our passage. Chris looked at them with a bit of confusion and then he realized they were focused on me.

"Well, if it isn’t little Kellam," Jeffries announced.

"Yeah. We owe him. Big time." Ross’ expression communicated the hate he held for me.

"Hold on a minute," Chris said. "Brian, what’s going on here?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Chris. I don’t see eye-to-eye with these three losers, and they don’t like it."

"Yeah, Forn. Beat it," Jeffries commanded without looking away from me.

"I don’t think so," Chris said calmly as he stepped in front of me and stood nose-to-nose with Chuck.

Chris was about the same height as Chuck but he outweighed the junior by twenty or thirty pounds and was almost twice as wide. With his jaw set and brows drawn, Chris did indeed appear truly imposing.

"You guys aren’t going to do anything. Whatever you think you owe him, forget about it. You’ve done enough already.

The two boys glared at each other for a moment, and then Jeffries backed off a step.

"C’mon guys. Let’s go. He can’t be there every second, Kellam. We’ll catch up to you when your babysitters aren’t around. Then we’ll see who’s the shit."

My three antagonists drifted off into The Commons and disappeared.

"Damn it, Chris, why did you have to do that?" I asked him heatedly.

"Do what?" Chris asked as we continued to my locker.

"Step in! I had everything under control!"

He snorted and said, "Yeah. You have them so under control that they’re going to try to beat the crap out of you."

"It would have been easier if you’d just stood by," I asserted.

"And watch my brother get pasted?," Chris asked rhetorically. "Not when I can do something about it."

I opened my locker and said quietly, "If they do get their hands on me and I’m alone, it’s going to be worse now. You know that."

"Do you really think that they’ll carry out the threat? Attack you, I mean?"

"Chris, they’ve been attacking me since the beginning of the wrestling season. I know they will."

"That’s where the bruises came from?" He asked incredulously, eyes wide. "Why didn’t you go to the coach?"

"Why? So they’ll get kicked off the team and have that much more reason to kill me? Not a good plan, Chris."

"And provoking them to fight you is any different?"

"Yes, because I control the circumstances! Think, Chris! I get to choose the battleground if it’s done my way. If they take control, I lose that advantage. If the teachers get involved, I- lose- that- advantage!"

Chris shook his head. "It’s not right, Brian. You shouldn’t have to put up with this."

"What should happen has nothing to do with what’s happening," I said wearily. "You have to stay out of this, Chris."

He was quiet as I shut my locker and as we walked to his. He opened it absently, threw his books in and slammed it shut again. I could tell what he was thinking. I could read Chris well. He was trying to decide if he should tell someone. I knew that if he did so, my life would become more difficult by an order of magnitude. He didn’t speak again until we sat to eat. I wasn’t really hungry and just had an apple and an orange followed by a box of orange juice.

"Brian, there has to be something I can do for you. There has to be."

"There is. You can let me do what I need to do: work out. I need to now more than ever. I have to keep in shape if I have any hope of staying ahead of these guys. If I can’t, then..."

It was a terrible thing to do. Chris was my best friend, and I loved him besides, but this was a card that I had to play. Chris had an overdeveloped sense of guilt and I was trying to use it against him to work around the restrictions his mom had placed on me. I wouldn’t push it anymore than I already had because his own mind would do a far better job of convincing him than I ever could now that the seed was planted.

Chris, if you ever do read this, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

That was the end of our conversation. Chris spent the rest of lunch inside his head. I didn’t bother him. I knew he had to decide if my friendship was worth deceiving his mother and going against her express wishes. It was not an easy choice. I felt so bad about what I had asked Chris to do that I was almost physically ill. He didn’t deserve anything like what I’d done to him.

By the end of the day I was a basket case. I kept coming back to the surrender agreement and how unfair it seemed. They called me in because I was depressed and then go overboard trying to monitor my physical activity to save me from myself, and then have me see a shrink twice a week. That was another thing I had to plan for.

I needed to be normal with Dr. Edelstein, which meant I had to be angry and resentful. That most definitely would not be a stretch. The tricky part would be to convince him that I was playing the game even though I was taking advantage of the situation by bending the limits. I’d have to change gradually from a rebellious little boy to a contrite teen over the course of six weeks or so.

Not only did I have to keep Edelstein off the track, I had to convince my coaches and teachers I was doing my part, too. Mrs. Hill wouldn’t be too hard to deal with. Coach Dalton wouldn’t be that hard either since he only saw me for an hour each day and had fifty other rambunctious teenage boys to deal with. Coach Navarro would be the toughest outside of Edelstein since he had more one-on-one time with me and could directly monitor my activity. He would also be watching out for the assholes that beat me up all the time.

After Phys Ed, I walked to my locker to pick up my books for Civics. The class was in the Commons Two block and that meant I had to cross the Commons to get there. I made my way through by dodging moving bodies and made it to class on time.

About five minutes before the end of class, Dr. Edelstein walked in the door interrupting the closing statements of Mr. Aguirre’s lecture.

"I’m sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Aguirre. Could I see Brian Kellam outside please?"

"Of course. Brian, if you would please."

I took a moment to gather my books and I walked to the door against a backdrop of muttering. Dr. Edelstein led me out into the hall and the door closed behind us.

"Hello, Brian."

"What are you doing here?" I practically screeched, my voice cracking.

My father and mother stood in front of me. My brain froze. They were right in front of me and when I most needed to be able to think, my brain shut down.

"Brian," my mom started, "We heard about what’s happening and we’re worried about you, baby."

"Since when?" I sneered as I recovered my wits. "Betraying the person you supposedly care about tells me different!"

The few people in the hall were watching us intently. I didn’t care. All I could think about was the fact my parents were here in my school pretending like they cared about what happened to me.

Dr. Edelstein appeared unsettled and cleared his throat. "Why don’t we go someplace more private to talk?"

"I ain’t going anywhere with them!" I shouted loud enough for the entire Commons to hear.

"Brian, please, sweetheart..." my mom tried again.

"Don’t call me that!"

"...we love you."

"No you don’t!"

My father, true to form, loudly ordered, "Brian, that’s enough. Now come with us so we can talk."

"No!"

"Brian..." dad said menacingly.

"What’re you going to do? What could you possibly do to me that’d be worse than what you’ve already done, huh? You’ve already completely destroyed my life!"

"Brian, now!" Dad demanded.

"Fuck you. I have to get to class. Have a nice life."

I ran around the nearest corner and leaned into the wall. I couldn’t cry at school. I just couldn’t. If people saw... I didn’t even want to think about it. The bell rang signaling the end of fifth and people poured into the hall. Instead of going straight to class, I found a boys bathroom and washed my face. I was so shaky I could feel it all through my body. I washed my face again and waited until I could hold a neutral expression.

Just as I was getting ready to leave, my father came into the restroom. He started to say something but I roughly shouldered my way past him before he could finish. He grabbed my shoulder in his vise-like grip.

"Don’t you fucking touch me!" I yelled as I tried to get away from him.

People were looking at us from the commons.

"Brian, you have to understand that we..."

"Let go! I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. Why can’t you just leave me alone!"

"Brian, we only did what we thought best for..."

"Best for you! Not for me!" I said loudly. "You betrayed me once. You won’t get that chance again," I said intently.

I again tried to rip my shoulder out of his hand and succeeded. I left him standing in the bathroom doorway, walking away without a backward glance. I passed my mom and Dr. Edelstein. I pointedly turned my head away from them as I walked. Tears came to my eyes again, but I ruthlessly suppressed them. Somehow I made it through until the end of the day without totally losing it.

Chris and I rode home on the bus. I didn’t say anything about seeing my parents. I really wanted to go for a run to help me deal with all these emotions that were floating around in my head. I mentioned it to my brother right before our stop. He thought for a minute, and then agreed. Chris would have to accompany me, of course, so we suited up in our rain gear and headed out into the moderate showers that had come to dominate the afternoon. We ran over to La Playa field and back. It was only a short run, but that’s all Chris would do. It seemed he was afraid of going against Kathlene’s wishes, and I really didn’t blame him.

I avoided thinking about my parents while we ran. Instead the thought of forcing Chris to choose between his mom and me came to the surface. That’s what I’d done by asking him to let me work out when I wanted. The guilt grew as we ran.

When we got back to the house, I all but begged Chris to let me continue lifting after he’d called a halt, but he refused, saying I’d done enough for the day. It took all the self-control I had to accept his decision. I went straight to my room, closed my door and wedged it shut using my chair. Then I stripped down to my shorts and pumped out fifty push-ups, then fifty sit-ups, then more push-ups and more sit-ups. I continued until I could barely lift my arms or sit up. It wasn’t much of a workout, but it burned the energy that had been bottled inside my body. I decided to get some sort of weight to make things more productive, like a sandbag or something similar.

Chris knocked just as I finished my last set of sit-ups. He tried to open the door as he normally would but was unable due to the chair. I pulled it out of the way allowing the door to swing open. Schooling my expression to a calm I did not feel, I watched his reaction when the door opened.

"Why did you do that, Brian?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"What? Block the door?"

"Yeah."

"I didn’t want to be interrupted."

"What were you doing? You scared me," Chris said with obvious concern.

"Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t doing anything you haven’t done."

"Brian..."

"I was jerking off, Chris," I said in pique. "Do you want to help me next time?"

I hated myself the instant I said it.

Chris’ face went flat immediately. He turned on his heel and walked out of my room to his, shutting his door behind him. I heard his head thump the door a couple times before silence settled in once more. I had managed to alienate him again, and I hadn’t even thought about doing it. I walked to Chris’ door, wanting to say something to apologize to him, but what could I tell him?

Gee, sorry I came on to you Chris. I don’t like you in that way. Or better yet, Hey Chris, come over here and blow me.

I trudged away from his door without saying anything, condemning myself for hurting my best friend for the millionth time. He didn’t deserve what I had inflicted on him. I stopped in front of my door. I really needed to say something to him. As I softly padded down the hall, a new sound met my ears. Chris was talking to himself in angry tones. Completely disgusted with myself, I went back to my room and closed myself in.

At about nine o’clock that night I left my room to try and find a way to burn off the accumulated nervous energy I hadn’t used during our work out. I made no progress searching the downstairs. Shooting pool didn’t appeal and it took two to play ping-pong. I couldn’t sit still in front of the tube long enough to watch anything. I started to pace around the room, trying to concentrate on regaining a sense of calm. It wasn’t going to happen.

Finally, I went back upstairs and found Kathlene in the kitchen making a late snack for Chris and her.

"I’m going for a walk."

"Brian, sit with me and have some cheese and crackers."

"I told you I’m not hungry."

"Even so, I want you to sit here so we can talk."

"About what?" I said angrily. "Seems to me there’s nothing to talk about. You’ve already told me how I’m going to live my life."

"I gave you choices," Kathlene said calmly as if she were discussing the weather. "You made the decision."

I snorted in contempt. "Some choices. No more running or lifting, not because anything is wrong, but because we think something could happen, or go live with the people you hate most in the world. Those are real choices, all right."

"Brian, shut up!"

I turned in surprise to see Chris standing at the bottom of the stairs. His face was clouded and sad.

"Just because things didn’t go your way is no excuse for talking to mom like that. For that matter, it’s no excuse to treat me like you did either. Maybe you should just grow up a little!"

I dropped my eyes. He was very much correct in his assessment. I walked into the living room and collapsed into the couch. Chris ignored me and went to the kitchen to quietly converse with his mother.

What was more important? Staying halfway sane or getting the exercise my body cried out for? There was no contest: staying sane won out.

I couldn’t afford to gain weight in the middle of wrestling season. Since Kathlene had decimated my exercise routine, I would have to pay much more attention to what I ate. No more binges for me. If I was only going to burn half of the calories I normally did, then I’d only eat half of the calories.

I looked back toward the kitchen but Kathlene and Chris were still out of sight. I stood and walked out the front door to sit on the porch and watch the falling rain. I let the hypnotic sound of drops hitting the ground overtake my senses and very quickly submerged myself in that noise, allowing my mind to search for center, the place I go to when I run. I didn’t even notice Kathlene and Chris come out onto the porch to join me sometime later.

Deep in my trance, I felt a hand fall on my shoulder and a quiet voice speaking. I knew it was Chris, but I wasn’t ready to return. I had found that peaceful place where I was aware of all that was happening around me, but none of it was immediate. The emotions of the day were mere ripples along the periphery of my consciousness. I felt Chris shaking me slightly to get my attention, and I realized it was my choice whether or not to return to answer him. Kathlene called my name, but again I chose not to respond. Why would I return to a world that was full of frustration and pain when I could live in this perfect moment forever?

My solitude was finally broken by a sharp jab in my ribs that startled me.

"Ow! What’d you do that for?"

I angrily faced them as I rubbed my side. Both Forns wore pensive expressions. My irritation fled as I looked between them, waiting for one of them to speak. Neither did. They continued to stare at me. Resigned to wait them out, I returned to watching the rain.

"Brian, what just happened?" Kathlene asked anxiously.

"What do you mean? I was just thinking." I replied calmly.

"Why didn’t you answer us, then?" Chris asked, his tone mirroring his mother’s.

"I was thinking hard, okay?"

Kathlene was shivering and patting her arms against the cold.

"Come inside, boys. We need to talk."

Chris offered his hand to help me up. I took it, and for a moment we stood in front of one another with our eyes locked together. A familiar sensation brought me back to my senses and I forced myself to move beyond him into the house.

"Thanks, Chris," I mumbled as I passed him.

"Any time, Bri," he responded at the same volume.

I wanted so much to hug him at that moment. I needed the human contact, the feeling of safety I got when he wrapped me in his arms, the assurance that everything would work out, but I knew that if I did hug him I wouldn’t be able to hide my true feelings for long. It was hard enough just being around him day in and day out and maintaining the distance I needed to keep me safe.

I took a sharp right turn and ran up the stairs to the bathroom, shut the door behind me and leaned back against it, allowing the tears to come and raging at myself for their existence.

Why, if God existed, did He let me fall in love with Chris? What was I supposed to do? I loved Pete. I loved him so much that I had committed myself to him after only four days of really knowing him. I still loved him even though I hadn’t heard from him in nearly two years. I still wanted to be with him. What did God want me to learn by being gay? What lesson could He possibly want me to learn from falling in love with another boy? What did He want me to learn by making me fall in love with someone I couldn’t risk loving?

I slammed my head against the door three times. Immediately Chris called to me.

"Brian, are you okay?"

I sniffed and rubbed my arm across my nose.

"Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute." My voice cracked right at the end. The torment was killing me a small piece at a time. I couldn’t allow that to continue. To do so would be insane.

I tried to suppress the thought but it had a solid foothold in my mind. I slammed my head back one more time as if to dislodge the possibility from my brain, but all I accomplished was giving myself a terrible headache.

How fitting, I thought, now I have a matched pair: my head and my heart.

Guilt was growing by leaps and bounds inside me. Chris was my best friend and I was trying to manipulate him into giving me what I wanted by playing him against his mom. Not only that, but I continued to treat both of them like crap.

I raced to the toilet and didn’t quite get the lid up in time, splattering the wall with my gorge. I knelt there puking up anything and everything in my gullet.

What was I doing? Why was I chasing away the only people in the world that cared about me? They had shown me nothing but love and compassion and I spat in their face. What the hell was wrong with me?

I heaved again. It seemed to go on forever. When I was finally done, I placed my head on the side of the bowl, allowing the cool porcelain to soothe my now pounding head.

Why? Why was I doing this to myself? Why was I rejecting the very people I needed the most? Was I crazy?

Another spasm took control of my body. A knock sounded at the door.

"Brian?" Chris called through the door. "Are you okay in there?"

I couldn’t answer him. It was all I could do to breathe.

"Brian, I’m coming in."

The door opened. An alarmed Chris knelt next to me as another heave hit. There was nothing left in my stomach to throw up.

"Brian, are you sick?" He asked with caring concern.

I shook my head. I wasn’t ill like he meant. I was sick in the head, and in the heart. When the spasm ended I sank back, resting my forehead on the toilet seat, gasping for breath. Chris put his arm around me.

"Bri, what’s wrong? How can I help?"

I cursed myself as I spat the only thing coming out of my gut into the toilet: bitter bile. Why did I do this to myself? Why did I try to cut off anyone who tried to help me?

Another heave caught me unaware, bending me in two. When the paroxysm ended at last, I collapsed sideways into Chris. He caught me as I broke down into tears.

"Come on, Bri. Let’s get you to your room."

Chris helped me up just in time for another dry heave to send me once more to my knees. My mind roamed as I waited for the next spasm to hit. My parents had shown up at school. They always claimed they loved me, but they never showed it. All they did was hurt me when I thought they couldn’t hurt me any more.

Somewhere deep inside of me, something gave way. My sight closed in and my throat tightened. A guttural growl issued from my mouth and quickly turned into a primal roar. Chris picked me up bodily and wrapped me in his arms to hold me tight. I clung to him instinctively, unable to let go if I had wanted to. I gasped air and roared again.

Pain, fear, longing and desperation filled my hoarse cries. Chris had to have been holding me up, because I didn’t have the strength to stay on my feet. He carried me to his room and sat on the bed with me cradled in his lap. Kathlene arrived and joined her son to surround me with love. This only caused me to wail louder, the comfort reminding me what I had lost when Pete had been taken away from me and when my parents had betrayed me.

I eventually calmed enough to be able to talk to them. I thought about trying to separate myself from Chris, but I didn’t have the energy. I needed the strength and comfort being in his arms gave me.

"Brian," Kathlene said, "What happened, honey? What brought this on?"

"Lots of things." I said and then sniffled mightily.

Chris was still holding me in his lap with his arms around my quaking body. Kathlene retrieved the tissue box from the bathroom and returned to pull Chris’ desk chair over and sit in front of us. When I didn’t say anything more, she gently prompted me.

"What kind of things, hon?" She asked while handing me the box.

I didn’t want to think about anything. I didn’t want to tell them what had happened because I would have to remember. All those memories did was bring me pain. I couldn’t take it much longer without losing what grip I had on my sanity. I buried my head in Chris’ broad chest.

"Brian, honey, we can’t help you if you won’t talk to us," Kathlene said softly, laying her hand on my leg.

"I know," I sobbed as tears started falling again, "but it’s so hard... so hard."

"What is, Bri?" I felt more than heard Chris’ question through his chest.

"All of it! I can’t take any more!"

"Any more what, Brian?" Kathlene querried.

I closed my mouth and curled up against Chris. I had missed the safe feeling he gave me so much. It didn’t matter anymore that I was attracted to him. I couldn’t hide it without hurting him, so I wouldn’t try to hide it. I just wouldn’t act on it. I needed him too much to let anything continue to destroy our friendship.

"Bri, please talk to us." Chris implored. "Tell us what’s wrong."

I took a deep breath and told them my thoughts through a halting voice. I told them about meeting my parents, the anger I felt toward them and the fear that I would have to go back to that place where I wasn’t loved. I told them about my frustrations with school. I told them how much I missed Pete and how I feared I would never see him again. I told them how much I loved them and how sorry I was for treating them like I had. I cried some more, allowing myself to let go because I was safe with people who loved me.

The only thing I failed to disclose to my foster family was my love for Chris. That was a misery I would bear alone.

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