Brian and Pete: The Power Within

Chapter Seven

Tragedy

On a chilly Wednesday morning in the beginning of October, Ray was escorted into a courtroom by Kevin, Jason, and Van.  It was the first time he had faced the people who had brought him into the world in all the time I had known him.  Less than two hours later, Raymond Branton, the young man who confronted the people that had abused him in every way imaginable, won his lawsuit against them.  The court not only awarded Ray the money his biological parents had stolen from an insurance settlement, but the judge also granted Ray’s request to change his name.

When he arrived at home, Raymond Patterson was assaulted by a wave of friends and family gathered to celebrate his newly won freedom.  The party lasted well into the late evening, stopping only because the children had school the following morning.  Among the guests was one Aron Washington, a shy African American boy who was just a bit taller than me.  Ray introduced him to us and as we spoke, and it became apparent that Aron and Ray were very close.  Maybe it was the kiss they shared on the porch as Aron left the house to return home.

When Ray came back inside, he met a wall of six people staring at him curiously.

He returned our gaze coolly, saying, “What?  You haven’t seen two guys kiss before?”

“Yes,” Kevin answered in a like manner, “but not you.  Not in a while, anyway.”

“Well, now you have,” Ray popped back.  “Now will you get out the way?  I have to take a shit.”

He was already half way down the hall before my mother shouted to his back,  “Raymond Patterson!  Language!”

“Swahili!” he yelled back before sequestering himself in the downstairs bathroom.  I would have had to be deaf not to hear the smile in Ray’s voice.

The next morning I woke early, intending to run to school.  I had been slacking off in my personal routine to the point that I was starting to feel poorly because of it.  Pete tried to keep me in bed, enticing me with various things until he finally gave up and took the opportunity to sleep in until the alarm went off.  I packed my school things, in addition to the clothing I was going to wear and set my backpack near the front door on the way out.

I got to the school at seven fifteen, went straight to the weight room for a quick circuit around the machines, and then went back into the locker room to wait for Pete.  Coach Sarvino greeted me as he walked out of his office, but otherwise left me alone.  I stretched as I sat on the bench, wondering what the day would bring, and hoping that nothing bad would happen.

Pete found me a few moments later.  I showered quickly while he waited with my things, and then changed into the clothes I had packed before leaving for my run.  We walked to the cafeteria to meet our friends before the bell rang for class.  I had not been able to join the group very often since the beginning of the school year, and I was surprised to see how many people were at the table when I got there.  Tomas, Will, Terry and Sterling were sitting at one end, while at the other were Ray and Aron, and to my surprise, Jared Tanner.

Pete and I took our place in the center of the group, greeting everyone as we did.  A quick glance at the clock told me we had about ten minutes before the first warning bell.  I turned my attention to Ray and Aron.  They were sitting next to each other, talking about a television show or something just as inane.  Aron spoke clearly, without a hint of the accent or street slang so common to city kids.  His dress was in style without being flashy, more middle America than the baggy jeans and t-shirt a lot of kids preferred.  He looked like a nice guy. 

I realized that Ray had caught me watching Aron, and was waiting with an air of expectation for me to make some sarcastic comment.  I smiled at him and nodded my head.  Ray looked stunned that I hadn’t said or done anything rude, but after a moment, he smiled back and nodded in acknowledgement.  Aron glanced my way and caught my eye as well.  Again I smiled and nodded, receiving the same in return.

I turned my attention to Jared.  I hadn’t seen much of him since Sharon had left, the spring before.  It was then that Ray, who at that time was involved with Jared, did or said something out of fear that alienated Jared from us all.  It was nice to see he was willing to join us again.

“Brian?”  Pete got my attention.

“Huh?  Sorry.  I was thinking.”

“Will was asking if you had finished the physics assignment.”

“Oh.  Yeah, Will.  Got a problem?”

As I helped Will with one of the homework questions, I saw Lasko walk into the caf.  Eddie looked unhappy; almost sad.  When he saw Todd Langley, his expression quickly changed to the haughty sneer we all knew so well.  I began to wonder if the person we saw at school and on the field was the real Eddie Lasko, or if more was going on behind the scenes that we didn’t know about.

“Kellam, where are you, man?” Will asked.

“Sorry.  I was thinking again.  I guess I have a lot on my mind today,” I replied.

“It’s only Thursday.  You don’t get to think until tomorrow at practice and at the game.”

“Is that what I’m doing wrong?” I asked sarcastically.  “Damn.  I’ve been doing it backwards my whole life.  Thanks for clearing that up, Will, I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Will blinked at me.  “Kellam?”

“Beck?”

“Shut the fuck up and help me with this problem.” 

His smile told me he’d taken my comments with good humor, as I’d intended them.  Will managed to work out the problem on his own in the few minutes remaining before the first warning bell sounded, and classes began.  After a long day at school and a grueling practice, two very weary boys arrived back home at the farmhouse.

The next morning we met in the caf as we had the day before, exchanged the usual pleasantries and attended our classes.  It was during practice that I heard the first rumors of the events that had occurred the night previous; rumors that I hoped were not true.  I overheard Todd Langley and Lee Krogh talking as we waited our turn to run sprints.

“Yeah, they tied him up and left him there.”

Krogh laughed, “Well, what do you expect.  I mean, I’d do the same thing.”

“Me too,” Todd answered.  “I better not catch one anywhere near me.  What was his name again?”

“Who the fuck cares.  He’s gonna die.  The only good fag’s a dead fag anyway.”

“I heard that,” Lee said in agreement. 

A whistle blew, and they took off running down the field.  My brain was frozen, and my eyes glued to their backs, stunned into insensibility.  The whistle blew and I simply stood there, watching Krogh and Langley finish their forty.

“Kellam!  You going to stand there all day or are you going to join us?  Kellam!”

I snapped my head to the right and found Coach Folds glaring at me.

“Well?  Get your ass in gear!”

“Sorry, coach,” I replied, immediately taking off toward where the rest of the team was waiting.

“Did I blow you away that bad, Kellam?” Krogh commented as I crossed the line.  “Standing in awe?” 

“No, I had to wait for your stench to clear out before I followed you,” I shot back, glaring belligerently.   “And if I was standing in awe of anything, it was your ignorance.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Krogh asked, mirroring my hostility perfectly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. What part didn’t you understand, you ignorant bastard?”

“Fuck you!”

“Knock it off!” barked Coach Sarvino.  “Kellam, Krogh, take off.  Perimeter run until I tell you different.  Go.”

Neither of us moved, our eyes locked together in something bordering on hate.

“What’s the goddamn problem?” Coach Folds roared, the sound of his voice coming closer.  “Tony?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Sarvino grated.  “Now, or you’re both on the bench tomorrow!”

I backed off a couple steps and then turned to run just like the man said.

“No!” I stopped and looked back to see Krogh following after me.  He halted as well.  Sarvino said, “Krogh, right here.  Pushups until Kellam reaches the far corner, and then you start.  I want you no closer to each other than that.  Take off, Kellam.”

I did as I was told immediately, not willing to risk Sarvino’s or Folds’ further wrath.  Cursing under my breath the whole way, I set a brutal pace along the fence surrounding the field.  The conversation I had heard was running through my head, raising my level of rage each time I thought about Lee Krogh’s definition of a “good fag”.  I was also wondering exactly what they had been talking about.  Something had happened to someone, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it wasn’t pleasant.

As I ran along the fence furthest from the football pitch, I saw I would be passing some tackling sleds.  Without thought I charged them, hammering them with all the strength I could muster, one after another.  A glance told me I had enough time to go through them again before I had to continue on around the field, so I did exactly that, putting as much fury into the hits as possible, hoping to reduce my ire, but only succeeding in adding to it.

Again I set off on a blistering pace, praying that my fears were unwarranted, praying that someone somewhere was not dying in a hospital because he was gay.  I blew by the rest of the team, who were still running sprints.

“Kellam!  I didn’t say anything about hitting those sleds!”  Coach Sarvino sounded angry, and even more angry when I didn’t acknowledge that I’d heard him.  “Kellam, get your ass back here!”

I turned and trotted back to face the man.

“Just what in the hell is going on here?”

“Nothing, coach,” I answered with barely contained rage.

Sarvino glared at me through narrowed eyes, judging my response, and then ordered, “Sit on that bench right there and don’t move.”

“I’d rather run, coach,” I replied, my voice strained.

“I don’t give a damn.  Sit!”

“Yessir,” I answered with a hiss that earned me another appraising glare.

I spun on my heel and stalked off.  Out of spite I stood at the bench rather than sitting, and this did not go unnoticed.  I saw Pete staring my direction, his worried face peering out from his helmet.  We looked at each other for a long moment before a hand clamped over my face mask and started pulling me away from the field.  I found myself staring at Coach Sarvino’s fist as he dragged me from the bench to the other side of the grandstands where we had some relative privacy.  The man released my helmet and turned to me.

“All right, Brian, spill it.  You’re one of the steadiest players on the team, and now you pull this crap.  Why are you acting like a five year old?”

I met the man’s gaze for as long as I could before a stray tear fell down my cheek.

“Brian?  Are you okay, son?”  I shook my head.  “What is going on?”

Through a tight throat, I rasped, “Krogh and Langley.  They were talking when we were waiting for our sprints.  About somebody….  They said he was left to die.  They said he’s in the hospital and he’s going to die!”

“Who, Brian?  You’re not making sense.  Who is going to die?”  The man’s concern was real.

I shook my head.  “I don’t know.  Then they said...” I clinched my fist and gritted my teeth to control my shaking body.  “He said the only good fag is a dead fag.”

“Who said that?”

“Krogh,” I answered, my voice cracking.  “Krogh said it!  They laughed!  They thought it was funny that he was going to die because he was gay!”

I tried to wipe away the tear, but my hand hit my facemask.  I unsnapped my helmet, ripped it off, and rubbed my eyes. 

“God…  I wanted to tear him apart, coach!  I wanted to kill him!”

Sarvino stepped up to me, grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled us together so we were forehead to forehead and eye to eye.

“Now you listen to me, son.  You are going to put your cover back on.  You are going to go out there and get back in those lines, and you are going to run those drills.  You keep your mouth closed unless it’s directly related to practice, or one of the coaches addresses you.  After practice is over, you are going to go straight into my office, and you are going to wait there until I tell you it’s okay for you to leave. Do you hear me, boy?

“If you touch Krogh, or Langley or Lasko, you’ll be out of school and off the team.  You need to get a handle on this, Brian.  If you don’t, it’ll out you for sure, and I know you don’t want that.  If you have to stay home tomorrow and next week to get control, then do it.  I’ll explain the situation to Johnson.

“I can’t, coach!  I can’t just walk away!” I snapped, the tears still falling.

“Then I’ll bench you, Brian.  I can’t have you fighting.  You’re a good kid, but the rules still apply.  You know that.”  Coach Sarvino let me go and backed off a bit.  “You have a good head on your shoulders, Kellam.  Keep it there.  Now go on.”

Glaring at the man in front of me, I pulled my helmet on.

“I understand what you’re feeling, Brian.”

“Yeah, right,” I replied bitterly.

“I do.  A friend of mine was outed when I was in high school.  I know what hate is, Brian.  I was with him from the day he was outed until the day he killed himself.”  I gaped as he continued, “I don’t want to watch you do the same thing.  Get a handle on your emotions, son.”

“He killed himself?”

“Yeah, he did,” Coach Sarvino replied sadly, “and it still bothers me that I didn’t do more for him.  He couldn’t handle the abuse any more and took some pills.  He didn’t wake up.  I don’t ever want to watch someone else be destroyed like he was.”

“I’ll try, coach.”

“I know you will, Brian.”

I ran back out to the field and got into line.  Pete came up behind me.

“What’s going on, Brian?”

I shrugged.  “I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay…” Pete said, his voice trailing off.  I knew he was concerned.

When it came my turn to run and the whistle blew, I took off, running as hard as I could.  Trying to forget what had been said, I pushed myself as hard as possible, but those words haunted me.  Coach Folds put us into groups to run drills next.  Krogh, Tomas, me, and the rest of the linebackers followed the quarterbacks and receivers for some passing drills.  Krogh’s mere presence bothered me, making me jumpy, and when you added Eddie Lasko and Todd Langley, I was positively anxious.

My first cover was Langley.  He ran a slant pattern and I stayed right with him.  Lasko fired the ball out to us, but it was short, allowing me to intercept it neatly just before Langley hit me from behind.  I carried the ball down with me, holding it tightly thorough the bone-jarring impact of landing with almost two hundred pounds on top of me.  Langley spoke as he was getting up.

“What do you think of that fag in Wyoming, Kellam?” he asked with a sinister tone.  “Don’t you wish you’d been there?”

I kept my mouth shut only by literally biting my tongue.  It took a supreme act of will to trot back into line instead of attacking Todd Langley outright.

The next time we matched up, Langley continued his verbal salvo.  “Yeah, I heard they tied him up like a pig and kicked the shit out of him.  Sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Kellam?  Beating the shit out of some faggot?”

Again I walked away, but it was hard.  Fortunately, Coach Folds pulled everybody together to scrimmage.  I lined up at the Will position, next to Beck and Tomas Garza.  On the other side was Krogh.

On one play, Tomas blitzed leaving me to cover the middle.  The ball was run around through the six hole right into Krogh’s face.  I converged, and between the two of us, we brought the running back down.  As we got up, Krogh taunted me again.

“C’mon Kellam.  Tell us what you think,” he said.  “The queer’s gonna die.  Isn’t that good news?  One less fag sucking dick.”  When I didn’t respond, he continued, “He got what he deserved.”

I turned on him and barked, “No one deserves that!  Not even you!”

“C’mon Kellam,” Krogh smirked.  “He was only a fag.  You know how they are.”

“Bigoted assholes like you deserve to get the shit beat out of you, not him.”

“You like fags, Kellam?  You fag friendly?”

“Fuck you, you ignorant motherfucker!

A large body interposed itself between Krogh and me.

“Knock it off,” Tomas Garza growled.  “You guys are on the same team!”

“How about you, Garza?” Krogh continued.  “Would you play on the same team with a faggot?”

“I play on the same team with you, don’t I?” Tomas replied, his voice low and dangerous.

“Kellam!”  A fist closed over my facemask and started to drag me off the field again. 

I grabbed Coach Sarvino’s wrist tightly.  “Let go of me!”

Rather than release me, he turned and spoke in a quiet voice, his tone savage and urgent.  “When I let you go, you run straight to the locker room and to my office.  You lock the door and sit there until I come get you.”

“But…”

“I don’t give a shit, Kellam.  I warned you.  Now quit arguing with me so I can deal with the shit you’ve started.”

“I didn’t…”

“Go!” Sarvino barked, pushing me away from him and pointing in the general direction of the locker room.

I glared at him, weighing my options.  It wasn’t until I saw him mouth the word “please” that I nodded and did as he asked.  He was keeping up appearances and was asking me to do the same.  I jogged away from him at a decent pace without looking back.  My adrenaline level was high enough to give me the shakes and make me feel slightly out of control. 

Once in the locker room, I went into Coach Sarvino’s office as he told me and locked the door.  After a few minutes, I stood and paced around the small room, looking at various objects or papers here and there.  I began to feel claustrophobic just a few minutes later and unlocked the door to go to my locker where I removed my cleats and replaced them with my running shoes.  I also took off my shoulder pads and practice jersey before the sound of people returning from outside chased me back into the office.

Sarvino came in a few minutes later, his entrance preceded by his keys rattling in the lock.  I happened to be standing when he came in, and remained so after he slammed the door closed.  He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.  I sat down on the edge of the seat, looking at everything but my coach’s face.  After a moment of silence, I stood again in frustration and turned a circle, feeling more trapped as the seconds ticked by.  My brain began to run in overdrive, and my breathing was speeding up.  I could feel the onset of a panic attack so I closed my eyes and leaned against a file cabinet, trying to force myself to breathe deeply, and failing.

I sat heavily in the chair and said, “I’m having a panic attack.”

Coach Sarvino blinked and then abruptly stood and opened the door.

“Patterson!” he bellowed, and then turned to me.  “What do you need, Brian?”

“My pills.  There are a couple with the nurse.” 

“Okay.  Settle down, son.  You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not!” I said sharply.

“Easy, Brian.  Patterson, go into the other office and call Brian’s mom,” Sarvino ordered.  “Have her…”

“No!” I breathlessly interrupted.  “Kevin…”

“What?” the man asked.

“My dad,” Pete answered.  “I’ll call him, Bri.”

“Thank you, Patterson.  Brian, I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and concentrated on calming my frayed nerves.  I bent over and rested my head on my arms, and then leaned back into the chair and stared at the ceiling.  Nothing I was doing was calming me down.  Krogh and Langley had done a superb job of winding me up.

“Kellam?  What’s going on with you today?”

Coach Folds walked into the office, his voice harsh, ready to chew me out for my performance.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t….  Are you okay?”

I looked up at him and shook my head, not wanting to spare the breath to answer.  He watched me, waiting for some sort of an explanation that I wasn’t going to give him at that particular moment in time.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Art, there you are,” Coach Sarvino said to Coach Folds, relief evident in his voice.

“Tony, what in the hell is going on here?”

“Brian is having a panic attack,” Sarvino said calmly.  “I have Patterson calling home and the nurse is bringing down his medication.”

“A panic attack?  What brought that on,” Folds thundered, and then looked at me.

“Art, lower your voice.  Sometimes these things just happen without any particular reason.”

“Sorry.  I’m sorry, Kellam.  You surprised me.  Are you going to be all right?”

I rolled my eyes and put my head back down.  I was starting to get concerned.  The adrenaline was still running high and my mind was flailing around, trying to put a perspective on what I had heard on the field.  My rage began to build again as I thought about it.  Krogh and Langley floated in my mind’s eye, goading me into attacking them.

With a lurch, I grabbed the wastebasket beside the desk and vomited into it.  Another heave hit shortly after the first, leaving me breathless.  A third struck, and I growled loudly as it ended.  Coach Sarvino returned to the office with my medication, which I imperiously demanded by holding out my hand.  I placed the bitter tablet under my tongue and waited for it to dissolve.  Conversation continued around me as I waited for the sedative to take effect, but I paid attention to none of it, my mind still focused on Krogh and Langley.

Minutes passed.  My breathing slowed and my anxiety lessened, but my adrenaline and rage remained at high levels.  I stood from the chair and went to walk out of the room, but Sarvino grabbed my arm.

“Hold on, Kellam.  Sit back down here.”

I pulled my arm out of his grasp and said, “Don’t touch me!”  Sarvino and Coach Folds were watching me warily as I stood there.  “Just don’t grab me like that.  I don’t like it.”

“Sorry, Brian.  You’re right.  Please sit down?” Sarvino asked earnestly.

“I can’t.  I have to move.  I’m too nervous to sit.  I need to run.”

“The gym’s empty enough,” Sarvino said agreeably.  “I’ll go with you.  Art, can you wait around for Patterson?  He called his dad, and he should be here soon.”

If he found it odd that Kevin had been called for my emergency, he showed no sign.  “Sure.”

Coach Sarvino led me out to the deserted gym.  The moment I had clearance I ran around the perimeter of the gym at a fast clip.  Sarvino leaned against the wall near the locker room entrance and watched me.  I attempted to find my center, the perfect place I usually go to when I run where no conscious thought intrudes, but it was eluding me.  I kept hearing Krogh saying that the only good fag was a dead fag, and I wanted to rip him apart.  I heard Langley’s laughter and I wanted to take his head off.  The anger kept growing, and I kept on running.

Who knows how many laps later, a man stood in my path.  I slowed to a stop, standing in front of him.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Kevin,” I said evenly.

“I’m sorry, Brian,” he said sadly.  “His name is Matthew Shepard from Wyoming.  He was attacked last night, and they found him early this morning.  He’s in the hospital, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

With as much unsuccessful effort as I’d put into getting my mind to calm down, the confirmation of the awful truth accomplished it in an instant.  I looked over and saw Pete standing behind Sarvino, and behind him, Coach Folds.  Pete was worried.  Sarvino was as well.  Folds was openly curious, and he made me nervous.  I looked back at Kevin, tears of frustration filling my eyes.  I couldn’t cry, not there in the open.

“I need to go home.”

Kevin nodded and squeezed my shoulder.  As I walked past Pete, he caught my eye for a moment and then looked away.  Sarvino calmly watched me pass.  I knew I had to say something to him.  The man was standing by me even though I didn’t really deserve it.

“Coach?  I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Brian.  Me too.”

His response surprised me.  It seemed he deliberately misinterpreted my apology as being an expression of sorrow for what had happened to the young man in Wyoming.  Perhaps he was trying to express his support by echoing my feelings.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Sarvino nodded and squeezed my shoulder as I passed.

Coach Folds asked, “Will you be there tomorrow, Kellam?”

“If you still want me here, I will be,” I answered steadily, meeting the man’s gaze.

“Good.  I’ll see you in the morning then.”

I managed to hold it together until we made it to the car.  Once inside, I let loose, blasting Krogh and Langley and telling Kevin and Pete exactly what they had said.  Pete became quiet as I went on, shrinking back from me as I continued to rant and rave.  Kevin let me go until we parked in front of the house.  He turned off the car and then looked back at me.

“Brian, I know how angry and upset you are, but you need to calm down now.  Your mom is inside, and you already have to tell her you had a panic attack.  You have a pretty good idea how she’ll react to the news about the Shepard boy, too.  Your being agitated will make matters worse.”

“So I can’t be angry about this?” I demanded loudly.

“Of course you can, but going on about it isn’t helping anything,” Kevin said, a slight reprimand in his tone.  “You’re going to have to get a grip.  If you can’t, then you invite whatever happens as a result.”

“Oh, so Brian gets to stuff it again, huh?” I asked petulantly.

“Brian can do whatever Brian wants,” Kevin replied smartly.  “I’ve given you the possibilities, now you get to choose what to do.”

He got out of the car and walked inside.  I jumped out and grabbed my things, following him in a huff.  Pete was a few steps behind me.  When we got inside, Kevin was telling my mom what had happened at school.  I went to my room and dropped my bags off, and then went back out into the silent kitchen.

My mother wore an anxious expression as I came in and rushed to my side.

“Are you all right, baby?” she asked, running her hands through my hair and peering into my eyes.

“Fine, Mom.”

“Are you sure?  You look pale.”

I snapped, “I said I’m fine!”

She placed her hands on her hips.  “Brian Andrew…”

“Don’t start, Mom,” I warned her.  “It’s been a bad day.”

“Bad day or not, that’s still not a reason to speak to me that way.”

I glared at her, my hands curled into fists and my jaw clenched.

“I’m going for a run,” I grated through my teeth.

“What about dinner?”

As I stomped away, I answered, “I’m not hungry!”

I made it to my room and changed out of my practice pants and into sweats.  On my way towards the front door, I heard Kevin telling my mother about Matthew Shepard, and when I opened the door, Kevin called me back into the kitchen.

“Brian, come in here, please!”

I debated on leaving anyway, but then I saw him peek around the corner and see me standing there.

“Come on, Brian.  We need to have this discussion.  You know that.”

I followed him back, knowing that I was going to regret it.

“Brian, what happened at school today?” Kevin asked when we were seated in the dining room.  Jason and Ray had joined the conversation while I’d been changing.  “I have bits and pieces from Pete and your teachers, but we need to know the rest of it.”

“You want to know?  Fine.  The first time I heard about what happened to Matthew Shepard was when Langley and Krogh were talking about him at practice.  That’s when they said that the only good fag is a dead one.”

“What?” Ray shouted, half standing up.

I ignored him and continued.  “I got pissed off at them and confronted Krogh.  We got separated for a while, and then we went back into practice.  Every time I came near one of them, they made some comment about how cool it would be to kick the shit out of a fag, and how the fag deserved what he got!”

“Brian!” Mom warned.

“Motherfuckers!”

“Raymond!” barked my mother.

“I was so pissed off the entire practice that I ended up getting sent to the locker room before everyone else.  Then I had the panic attack.”

The room was silent except for the muttering coming from Ray.  Jason and Kevin wore pensive expressions, glancing at me from time to time.  My mother sat still, wringing her hands and staring at nothing, her face worried.  Pete met my eyes for an instant and then looked down.  I couldn’t read him.  My mother suddenly stood up, smoothing her clothing.

“Well, sitting here isn’t getting us anywhere.  Pete, will you help me in the kitchen, please?”

My boyfriend rose without comment and followed her obediently.  We ate dinner in relative silence.  Dawn had been filled in on the whole series of events and was as subdued as the rest of us.  When we were done, I took a shower as Pete worked on his homework.  When I came in, he glared at me and spoke in an agitated manner.

“You see?  You see what I’m talking about?  Matthew Shepard could have been one of us!”

“No, Pete, it couldn’t have been.  You’re over reacting.”

“And you aren’t?  You had a panic attack because of it, for Christ’s sake!  You need to control yourself, Brian.  I don’t want to be outed.  You need to stop and think before you react.  You need…”

“What I need is for people to stop telling me what I need to do!” I snapped.  “You didn’t hear them!  They were glad!  They were actually happy that Matthew Shepard got attacked and might die!”

“Which is all the more reason to keep your mouth shut!” Pete shot back.  “I know!  I know what can happen, Brian!  You’ve seen the scars!  Do you want that to happen to you?  Do you want to get ranked out and beat up every day?”

“I’ve been there, Pete,” I replied with more calm than I possessed at that moment.

“That was for stupid bullshit, Brian,” Pete countered scornfully.  “This is for real!”

“Stupid bullshit?  Stupid bullshit?”

“You know what I mean!”

“So what I’ve been through is stupid bullshit?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Yes it was!” I mimicked his voice, “‘That was for stupid bullshit, Brian.  This is for real!’  Guess what?  It’s all for real!”

“Don’t you dare do anything that will out us.  This is more important than being mad about what two kids said.”

“They said they wanted us dead, Pete!”

“I don’t care!  They aren’t doing anything to make that happen, and I want to keep it that way!  Brian, I’m warning you: you better keep your cool.  Leave them alone.”

“Or what?  What if I get into it with them.  What’re you gonna do, walk away?”  Pete’s expression gave me pause.  “You wouldn’t.”

He eyed me with a sharp, penetrating gaze. “I don’t know.”

“How could you…”

“Just don’t put me in the position where I have to make that choice, Brian.”

Pete turned away.  The conversation was over.

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