aterovis_bleedinghearts.pm6

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Bleeding Hearts

By

Josh Aterovis

JOSH ATEROVIS

I’d like to thank Luke, without whom I would have never begun to write, Jon for being my constant source of strength, encouragement and love, Auntie Black Sheep (us Black Sheep have to stick together!) for all her support and acceptance, and last but not least, everyone who has read Bleeding Hearts as a work in progress and encouraged me to continue writing, offered critiques or provided me with assistance. This has been a labor of love and you have all made it possible.

Thank you.

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to...

...my little brother, Luke.

...the love of my life, Jon.

...Auntie Black Sheep.

...all the lost boys.

4

Bleeding Hearts

There is a flower native to North America called Bleeding Heart. It’s a delicate looking plant with long arching branches that, when it blooms, are covered with tiny heart-shaped blossoms. Each blossom has what looks like a drop of blood coming out of the bottom of it — hence the name. It likes shade and doesn’t much care for wind. Unfortunately, we were getting a lot of wind that day.

I was sitting at the window overlooking the garden watching the wind blow furiously through the brightly colored flowers. Many of the plants had already lost their petals, but so far the bleeding hearts were holding their own. Which is more than I could say for myself. I was feeling more and more lost by the second.

Suddenly, it seemed that I had to do something for the plants. I couldn’t do much for myself, but maybe I could save them. I stood up and went outside into the storm; no one said anything to me and I wasn’t surprised. Once I was outside, the wind buffeted my body and the driving rain almost instantly soaked me, my tears mixing with the raindrops. I didn’t care. I was half hoping the raging storm would blow me away — or at least blow away the storm raging inside me.

But wait, I should back up. I’ve probably lost you already. I’m not even sure where to start, but I’m pretty 5

JOSH ATEROVIS

sure the middle isn’t the best place. I was never very good at language arts; my teacher said I lacked imagination. But I guess maybe like Lewis Carroll said in Alice in Wonderland, “Start at the beginning and when you come to end...stop.”

My name is Killian — Killian Travers Kendall. I’m sixteen yeaaErs old and a junior in high school. It’s only two weeks into the school year, but I’ve already learned a lot, mostly about myself. I’m not the same person I was on the first day of school. But we’ll get to that.

My father is the District Attorney for the county we live in on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The Eastern Shore is a peninsula bordered by the Chesapeake Bay on one side and the Atlantic Ocean on the other. It’s mostly a rural area, filled with sprawling flat farms with small towns interspersed at random. My family lives in an old-fashioned town and my father is an old-fashioned kind of man. Over all I would say I’ve been a disappointment to him. He was the star of his football team, had every girl in the school drooling over him, handsome, charismatic: he had everything going for him. I, on the other hand, couldn’t catch a ball if you held a gun to my head, have never dated a girl, and I’m very shy. I took after him in looks though, that’s something at least. I have the same piercing blue eyes (which I hide behind glasses), wavy blonde hair and strong, even features. I weigh in at about 135 lbs and 5’7". My father’s been trying to get me to try contacts for years, but the idea of sticking my finger in my eye is repulsive to me so I’ve stuck with my wire frames.

I guess I get my shyness from my mother. We’re a lot alike in personality. She has a way of melting into the background, almost chameleon-like. No one ever remembers meeting her. The only time she ever seems animated is when my father is around. It’s almost like she worships the ground he walks on. And that’s where 6

Bleeding Hearts

the similarity between us ends.

I don’t have any real close friends, but I hang out with Asher Davis, Jesse O’Donnell and Zachary Phillips. We are the same age, but that’s about all we have in common. They all three play soccer like it’s the way to salvation, so they are all in shape and very built. Asher has curly dark brown hair, light gray eyes that seem almost silver at times, eternally rosy cheeks, and is a few inches taller than me. Jesse is a little over six feet tall, but thin, with reddish-blonde hair, freckles, and bright green eyes. Zachary, or Zack, has brown hair, bluish-gray eyes, and is about the same size as Asher.

I’m usually the odd man out since I don’t play sports and I’m smaller than the rest of them. I’m the last one to get called when someone wants to do something, almost like an afterthought. I don’t even remember how I ended up in their little group, we’d grown up in the same neighborhood and our parents knew each other.

Everyone just always assumed we were friends and it had just always have been easier to go along with it than make an effort to find someone that I’d have more in common with. Making new friends was a terrifying concept to someone as shy as I was.

But this is all just background. The story really starts with the first day back to school. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I do well enough in school, but even with my very popular friends I don’t fit in and I know it. The only thing I like about school is theater. There I excel.

There I can lose myself in a part. There I am actually looked up to. And that is where everything changed.

Theater was my last class of the day. My first day back had been fairly uneventful up to this point and I didn’t really expect this period to be any different. The drama teacher, Mrs. Tatum, gave us her usual speech about this being a “play” class but not to expect any playing. “This is a serious class,” she intoned imperi-7

JOSH ATEROVIS

ously.

Just then the door opened and a head popped in.

“Yes?” Mrs. Tatum asked.

The rest of the body came into view. And a nice body it was. I’d never seen him before so he must have been new. He stood about my height, maybe a little taller and slightly more built. He had red-gold hair that seemed to stick up in every direction and elfin features.

In fact, he looked amazingly like an elf. Even to his incredibly green eyes. I wondered if they were colored contacts. Then I wondered why I cared. Why was I so intrigued by this guy?

“My name is Seth,” he said, “Seth Connelly. I’m transferring into this class. Here’s the paperwork.”

He handed her some papers and looked around the room. He carried himself with an air of confidence. Not arrogance exactly, but not far from it. After Mrs. Tatum had looked over the paperwork she looked up at him, staring for a second.

“Looks like it’s all in order. Why don’t you find a seat, Mr. Connelly, and we can continue with the class,”

she said finally.

He looked around the room again and locked eyes with me. I hadn’t looked away since he’d walked in.

Maybe he’d sensed me staring. I quickly looked away.

Next thing I knew, he was sitting down right beside me.“Hi,” he said extending his hand, “I’m Seth.”

“Killian,” I said shaking his hand. He held on a second longer than seemed necessary then smiled at me before turning back toward Mrs. Tatum. My head seemed to be swimming and I felt warm. I wondered if I was coming down with something. I mean I couldn’t be attracted to Seth. He was a guy! But I’d never felt like this before.

I tore my eyes away from him and tried to pay atten-8

Bleeding Hearts

tion to Mrs. Tatum, but my eyes seemed to have developed a mind of their own. They kept finding their way back to Seth. I hoped like crazy that no one in the class noticed my sudden obsession.

Finally the bell rang. I scooped up my books and headed for the door with my head down.

“Killian! Wait!” I heard Seth call.

I stopped just outside the door and waited for him to catch up, but didn’t turn around.

“Hey,” he said when he came alongside me.

“Hey,” I said back as I started walking again. What can I say? I’m a brilliant conversationalist.

“I’m new here,” he said, pointing out the obvious,

“I’m still getting lost. Think you could show me how to find my locker?”

“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled, still not looking at him,

“Where is it?”

He told me and we went on in silence. I felt Seth study-ing me as we walked. Finally he spoke up again,

“Killian, that’s a different name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“It’s Irish I think,” I explained. “My grandfather was from Ireland. He named me.”

“Are you close to your grandfather?” he asked. There was a strange note to his voice that made me look up at him for the first time since we had left the classroom.

There was look of sadness in his eyes that made me wonder where the question came from.

“No,” I answered, “He died when I was four. I don’t really remember him.”

I saw disappointment in his eyes. He had very expressive eyes, like you were looking into his soul.

“Why? Why did you ask if we were close?” I asked him.

“No reason. Just wondering,” he said, his eyes shift-ing away. Then he looked back at me again. “I’m not 9

JOSH ATEROVIS

close to either of my grandfathers. They disowned me.”

I looked at him curiously, but I had been brought up with too many manners to ask why they had disowned him. He read the question in my eyes anyway and answered.

“Killian,” he said softly, “I’m gay.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“I think I can find it from here,” Seth said after an awkward pause, “Thanks, man. See ya around.” And he was gone.

I’m not sure how long I stood there, maybe just a few seconds, maybe minutes. I was lost in thought and I didn’t care. The stream of people flowed around me and I didn’t notice any of them.

Suddenly someone grabbed me around the neck and got me in a headlock.

“What are you doing, Space Boy?” they yelled, “Waiting for your people to come back and get you?” It was Asher.

“Get off me, Asher,” I said sharply.

“Whoa, dude,” he said letting go, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just gotta get home.”

“Well, if you’re in such a rush why were you just standing there?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve got to go.”

I started off quickly down the hall and Asher rushed to keep up with me. “Dude, Kill, man, what’s up?” he asked again. When I didn’t answer he said, “The gangs getting together tonight to hang out, maybe catch a movie. You wanna go?”

“No thanks,” I said. By now we were at the door to the student parking lot. My dad had given me a car for my 16th birthday, one of the new Volkswagen Bugs.

Maybe he thought it would make me popular. If so, he was destined to be disappointed yet again. I headed for my car with Asher still on my heels. Just then, Zachary 10

Bleeding Hearts

intercepted us.

“Hey Zack,” Asher called out.

“Hey Asher. Hey Killian,” Zack said as I started to unlock my car. “Didn’t I see you with that new kid right after the bell?”

I looked up, dropping my keys in the process. As I bent down to pick them up I answered, “Yeah, his name’s Seth.”

“I know,” Zack said, “He’s in my second-period class.

We all had to share five things about ourselves. You know what his were?”

I had the door open by now, but I didn’t get in. I felt frozen where I stood.

“What?” Asher asked.

“Number One: he just moved here from Baltimore.

Number two: he swam on a team at the school he came from. Number three: he likes acting. Number Four: he lives with just his dad. Number Five—” Zack paused dramatically, “—number five: he’s a faggot.”