The Book of David Read online

  “Oh . . . okay. Sure. Great. I’m the asshole. Fine.” Tyler crossed his arms and shook his head. “Actually, I’m the one who’s telling you the truth. But sure. Side with the closet case who has you all dazzled.”

  I wanted to kick Tyler in the knee under the table, but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand up for Jon too forcefully, either. I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t have the whole story. I wasn’t getting it from Tyler, that’s for sure. I grabbed my tray and stood up.

  “Where you going, champ?” Tyler asked it as a question, but I heard a challenge.

  “To find Jon,” I said calmly. “Jesus, Tyler. He’s got a girlfriend,” I said, nodding at Amy.

  “Does he?” Tyler asked. “I mean, does he call you that?”

  Amy sighed and stood up, grabbing her tray. “So he started a club, Tyler. Doesn’t make him gay.”

  “Nah. Course not,” said Tyler. “Just makes him a guy who wants to hang out with a bunch of gay guys.”

  “Or maybe,” I said, “it just makes him nice.”

  Monica was on her feet too. “Not that you’d know anything about that, imbecile.”

  “Imba-what?” Tyler asked.

  “You’re the one into digging around online, Tyler. Look it up.”

  Amy and Monica and I tried to find Jon before the bell rang for this class, but his Jeep wasn’t in the parking lot. I’m pretty sure he skipped out for the rest of the day. I tried to call him, but his phone went straight to voice mail and he hasn’t answered a single text.

  I could kill Tyler for bringing this up, but I want to see what Jon has to say for himself. I could tell from the look on his face that this really got to him. I wanted to reach over the table and grab his hand and tell him it would be okay.

  Of course, at the same time, I also feel like shaking Jon and yelling, What the hell, dude? This is too close. It’s too much. If Tyler could find that stuff online, anybody can find it. Once they do, how long before they start looking at me and wondering about whether I’m gay?

  And am I actually gay? Shit. Why does this have to be so complicated? I don’t even know how I feel inside right now, or what I want. My shoulders are so tense as I’m scribbling in this journal that I can feel the knots forming in my neck. It’s like I’m hunched over this notebook, bracing for an impact, like at any moment the ceiling could collapse and the building and my whole life will come crashing down around me.

  I have to talk to Jon.

  Later . . .

  I texted Jon from the parking lot after practice to tell him I was coming over. When his mom opened the door, she smiled, and I knew he hadn’t told her what had happened at lunch.

  “Jon told me you boys had a good time picking out tuxedos,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Is he here?”

  “Of course.” She swung the door open for me and called up the stairs, “Jon, honey!”

  Jon was already on his way down, pulling a hoodie over his head. He walked past without looking at me. “We’re gonna study for our chemistry test, Mom. Back in a couple hours.”

  His mom smiled. “Have fun!” Jon was already in his Jeep, waiting for me. Mrs. Statley gave me a quick hug. “See you this weekend—in formal wear!”

  I waved good-bye as I walked down the porch steps. I heard the door close behind me, and I took a deep breath, then climbed into the Jeep.

  “What the hell?” I asked.

  “Why did you come here?” Jon pulled out of the driveway.

  “You disappeared, man. You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls all day. What is going on?” Jon was headed down toward the park at the river and took a corner a little too fast. “Jesus, dude. Slow down.”

  He didn’t speak again until we were parked not far from where we had gotten into the backseat together a month ago. Jon jumped out and slammed the door, then walked toward the picnic tables under some big elm trees. In the distance, I could see joggers and bikers and moms with strollers on the running path that crossed the bridge by the dam. I followed Jon to one of the stone tables. He sat on it with his feet on the bench, watching the last light fade behind the hills.

  “Jon?”

  When I said his name, he didn’t turn around. Instead he crossed his arms on his knees and buried his face. I slid onto the table next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t!” Jon shrugged me off and scooted away from me on the table. His face was red, and there were tears streaming down his cheeks.

  When I saw that, something in me snapped—not in an angry way—but like a light switch coming on. I saw a look of frustration and fear in his eyes that I recognized. I knew these feelings, because I’d felt them, too.

  I stayed where I was sitting on the table. It was almost dark now, and the breeze coming off the river was crisp and cool. The lights blinked on across the bridge. After a bit I decided to try again.

  “I’m sorry about Tyler,” I said.

  Jon rubbed a sleeve across his face and gave a short, bitter laugh. “But . . .”

  “But what?” I asked.

  He took a deep breath and his head dropped back, his eyes closed. “But you’re here to tell me you can’t be seen with me anymore. That you can’t hang out with the school fag.”

  Now I was angry. “Would you shut the hell up?”

  He turned and looked at me. Even in the dark, his eyes were on fire. “Why should I? Isn’t that why you came over?”

  I just looked at him and shook my head. “No. No way.”

  “So . . . what then?”

  “I came over to see if you were okay.”

  Jon’s body relaxed a little. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not. I’m not okay. I can’t believe this is happening all over again.”

  This time the sobs shook his whole body, and I didn’t even think about letting him stop me. I just walked over and climbed up on the picnic table behind him. I sat down with a leg on either side of him and wrapped my arms around him. Finally he leaned in to me and grabbed on to my hands and just cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.

  After a minute he was quiet, and we just sat there in the chill, staring at the lights on the bridge.

  “Somebody’s gonna see us sitting here like this,” he whispered.

  “Fuck ’em,” I said.

  He jumped up and spun around to face me. “Don’t!” he said fiercely. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Pretend.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are. You are pretending that you wouldn’t flip your shit if Tyler walked up right this second and saw you sitting there with your arms and legs wrapped around me.”

  I looked away. He was right. I hated Tyler. And myself for caring.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I asked.

  “Tell you what?” he said.

  “That you’re gay?”

  He looked at me like I’d grown antlers. “Are you insane? ‘Oh, hi. I’m Jay the new kid from Chicago, and I’d like to inform the hottest guy in class on my first day of school that I’m a homo who wants to make out with you.’ ”

  He collapsed back onto the bench of the table where I was still sitting. I swung around and sat next to him. “I get it,” I said.

  “Do you?” he asked. His voice was quiet, and his eyes were staring out at the river but seeing something far away. “Do you get what it’s like to be picked on every single day of your life at school? Do you get what it’s like to found a Gay-Straight Alliance as a sophomore so that you’ll have someplace safe to go, and then you’re the only one who shows up? Just me and the music teacher for two whole years.”

  “Is that what that article Tyler found was about?”

  Jon nodded. “I was so proud of myself for standing up to the bullies. I thought I’d take back all those names they were calling me. ‘Gay’ can’t be a put-down if I call myself that, right?” He shook his head. “Slapping a label on myself didn’t make it any easier. It made it wo
rse. Finally Dad went on a nationwide job hunt so that we could get out of Chicago. I untagged 543 pictures on Facebook and changed the name in my profile and moved seven hundred miles away so I could start over.”

  He stood up and took a few steps down toward the river, his hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie. From where I was sitting at the table, he towered over me, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the bridge, casting a shadow twice as tall as he was across the dark ground.

  I stood up and walked toward him slowly, quietly. It was like I was approaching a strong, scared, beautiful buck that would turn and disappear into the trees if I made a sound or moved too quickly. I thought about our nights together in the tent, how he’d tossed an arm across me and pulled me close. He was so strong on the outside. I hadn’t realized how delicate he must be on the inside.

  I stood next to him, peering up at the lights. Cautiously, I leaned in a little closer until my arm touched his. I felt him tense and then relax. His breath was still ragged from crying.

  “You know what sucks the worst about it? I don’t have a problem being gay. It’s everybody else.”

  I reached down and took his hand. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

  He gripped my hand and swung it up so I could see our fingers intertwined. “You don’t have a problem with me taking a label. It’s just not one you want.”

  “That a deal breaker?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “I just don’t know how to protect you from the fallout. I mean, if Tyler tells everybody . . . I feel like I’m radioactive. The ‘gay’ will somehow rub off on you. It’s not fair. You should be able to come out whenever you want. Or not at all. We should just be able to have . . . whatever this is without the . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Bullshit.”

  He smiled for the first time all evening. “I was gonna say ‘pressure,’ but, yeah. Bullshit is better.”

  “Tyler won’t tell anybody.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “ ’Cause there’s nothing to tell. I made him show me the article he was talking about online. It doesn’t say anything about you being gay. The whole point of the article is about bullying, and they interview lots of kids.”

  “It’s fairly obvious, don’t you think? I mean, lots of kids got picked on. I was the only one who founded a GSA.”

  I shrugged. “We had it out with him,” I said.

  “You what?”

  “Monica, Amy, and I tracked him down after study hall. Monica told him that if he spread any rumors about you, she’d tell Mrs. Harrison that Erin has been writing his reports in English.”

  “He’s not scared of that.”

  “Like hell he isn’t,” I said. “He might be able to recover from a knee injury, but his scholarship won’t survive flunking English. Harrison has a zero-cheating policy, and she’s done it before.”

  “I can’t just act like nothing ever happened. He knows.”

  “Jon, Tyler isn’t that smart. By the time we have a drink in the limo on Saturday, he’ll forget all about it.”

  “There’s no way I’m going to homecoming with you guys.”

  “You have to, man.” I spun him around and put both hands on his shoulders. “You change anything now, you run and hide? It’s game over. Tyler will know he’s won.”

  Jon considered this for a moment, then nodded.

  I took his hand again and we walked back toward his Jeep in the parking lot. “Hottest guy in school, huh?”

  “Shit,” he said. “So much for playing it cool.”

  We got into the Jeep, and before he could put it in gear, I slipped an arm around his neck and pulled him over for a kiss. His lips were salty from tears, and as he leaned in to me, I felt my stomach drop back into place. I didn’t realize how close I’d come to losing this thing that we have between us until that very moment, and the kiss made my knees weak with relief.

  “This thing between us—whatever it is—I can’t . . . I’m not ready to . . . put a label on it,” I whispered.

  “I know,” he said.

  “But I don’t want it to stop.”

  He nodded and smiled, putting his hand against my cheek. “Me neither,” he said.

  Then we drove back to his place without another word.

  Thursday, November 8

  I was right about Tyler. He was quiet today at lunch, but he didn’t bring up the article again. Jon was nervous about joining us for lunch, but Tracker and Sears grabbed him in the hallway and were making sure he’d have a flask of bourbon at the dance.

  Tyler dropped one of his crutches when he was getting up from the table, and Jon reached down to grab it and hand it to him. There was this moment when everybody froze as Tyler turned around to take it from him.

  “Thanks, man.” Tyler didn’t smile, but at least he wasn’t a dick.

  “Sure thing,” said Jon.

  And then the unthinkable happened. Tyler put the crutch under his arm, but he didn’t turn to leave.

  “Hey, Jon,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry about yesterday. I was just giving you a hard time.”

  “No sweat,” said Jon. He smiled at Tyler, and it was the kind of smile that made me realize why I liked him so much. It isn’t just the broad shoulders, or the handsome face, or the abs, or the eyes. It was a smile that didn’t hold anything back, a smile that said, I will try again—even when I have no good reason to.

  It was the first time I understood what true courage looks like. It’s not throwing a punch, or making a tackle, or fighting back. It’s forgiving somebody who treats you like crap and giving them a chance to make it better.

  Saturday, November 10

  Jon had a swim meet today and Tyler still can’t drive, so I was elected to go pick up the tuxes. We won again last night. That reporter Roger Jackson called me and wants to meet up tomorrow afternoon to do a feature interview with me for the front of the sports section when playoffs start next weekend. I think Dad almost had a stroke, he was so excited. Best part of this weekend is that Monday is Veterans Day, so we have school off. Have to go grab those tuxes now so we can get this party started. Tyler and Jon are both coming here to get ready. Gotta hustle so I can get in the shower before they get here.

  Later . . .

  Tyler’s in the shower right now.

  He was already here when I got back with the tuxes. Mom let him in, and he went up to my room and was on my computer playing this online game we used to play together all the time. I said “hi” and jumped in the shower right away. When I came back into my room, I have to admit, it was kind of cool to see him sitting there in his bright red Razorbacks hoodie, just hanging out—like it used to be. Makes me miss the days before he hurt his leg and things got complicated between us. Oh! The other surprise is that Tyler’s off his crutches finally. Erin doesn’t know, and she’s gonna flip ’cause she was bummed that they wouldn’t really be able to dance much.

  I think Jon pulled up. I just got nervous. I hope he thinks I look okay in this monkey suit.

  Sunday, November 11

  Last night was incredible. Jon is still asleep in my bed, and I’m lying here writing about it.

  I kind of can’t believe it, but I was able to beg off from going to church this morning. Dad never cares, but Mom can be kind of a stickler about it. She was so happy to see all of us dressed up and having a good time last night. She took one billion pictures and told me on the way out the door that she wouldn’t wait up for us and that I didn’t have to get up early and go to church. I’m sure Amy wasn’t so lucky. She’s probably sitting in the choir loft right now with a hangover.

  The limo Jon got was off the hook. Tyler threw his arm around Jon’s neck and gave him a fist bump when he saw it. The two of them were thick as thieves last night, and it made me feel a lot better about the whole situation. Tyler’s in a way better mood, and I think it has a lot do with getting off the crutches.

  He looked hilarious in tha
t powder-blue tuxedo, but also it was sort of cool in a retro way. Jon looked like a movie star. So tall and elegant in that white jacket with a black bow tie that really tied. He insisted that I get one, too, and he even tied it for me in the mirror. It totally turned me on. He was standing behind me with his arms around my shoulders, tying this bow tie, and my mom came into the room and took a picture of it.

  That was the beginning of the picture taking. I swear we were the most photographed guys in the entire history of homecoming. After we finally got downstairs, Tyler insisted that he and I get one together, and it made me feel like our friendship is back to normal. He was clowning around in the ruffled shirt and then he insisted that Jon and I get a shot together. He took a bunch of us together in front of the limo. Then we piled in and went to pick up the girls.

  On the way to Monica’s, Jon broke out his flask and we spiked a few Cokes for the girls, then passed the flask around. He and Tyler were laughing and talking like old friends, and I feel really good about that. It’s like they’ve reached a new understanding with each other. Or maybe Tyler just finally got the message that he can’t go through life being a complete dick anymore.

  The dance was a blast. Monica is a really good dancer, and after the bourbon in the limo, I was feeling pretty loose. I already knew that Jon was a good dancer because of seeing him in the musical, but at one point, he and Amy were doing this swing dance that was like something on one of those dance competition shows Tracy likes to watch. People just backed up for them and made space. He was whipping her around like a pro, and for a preacher’s daughter, she sure knows how to use her hips.

  Afterward the limo brought us all back to my house, and my mom had left snacks and drinks out for us before she went to bed. We went downstairs to the rec room and played pool and drank the rest of the bourbon Jon had. I snuck a few of Dad’s beers out of his fridge in the garage, and then Tyler and Erin sort of disappeared for a little while out back on the deck. Monica pulled me upstairs into the living room, and Amy and Jon were on the couch downstairs.