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Jake swallowed. He looked a little scared.

“He’s been known to get violent. He’s very protective.”

“I see.”

“I don’t think you do, Jake. I don’t like you. And you’ve stuck your fucking robin to the window sill again.”

“I don’t think he’s anything to get angry about.”

“He was once a living creature, Jake. A beautiful, living creature. And you want to make a mockery out of him?”

“A mockery?”

“That’s what I said.”

Silence.

“Are you going to back down, you stupid cat?”

Jake opened his mouth. “How dare you?”

“Because this is my house, my family, and I belong here. You, quite clearly, don’t.”

Mitchell turned around and went back upstairs. He had locked the puppy in his room and Lucky was scratching to get out.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Mitchell said, leaving the door open for Lucky to come back in once he’d decided he didn’t want to be in the corridor. Mitchell closed the door and pulled him up onto the bed. “Stay” he said, holding him on his chest. “Sit.” Lucky sat. “Lie down.”

Lucky obviously knew this one, because he did lay down.

40

Tadd rang at seven, right when they were sitting down to dinner. Mitchell got up and walked toward the hall. He had been waiting for Tadd to call since five-thirty or so, ever since training had finished.

“How was training?”

“Not so bad.”

“Did Marley say anything about me?”

“No, but he was going on about Mason, asking why Mason wasn’t there. No one knew why.”

“People are going to know he’s been beaten up, when he comes back to school.”

“He’s going to stay home till Monday.”

“You think he’ll be alright by then?”

“Not really.”

“Tadd. I thought about it. I think he deserved it. I mean — maybe not so bad. You could have pulled back a bit. He was already beat.”

“I lose control. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve just got to win?”

“Yeah. Until they fall down it’s not over.”

“You probably should work on that.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been in trouble every school I went to.”

Mitchell took a deep breath, his chest lifting. “I thought about it. I’m not afraid of you — not really. I mean — you said you wouldn’t, you couldn’t ...”

“Mitchell. You’re about half the size of me. I could never take you on. I’ve never done that. Half the fights I’ve had have been protecting people. I was protecting you.”

“Yeah. I kind of figured. I’ve thought about it a lot today.”

Jake had actually gone out, not leaving the house until more than an hour after Mitchell had spoken to him. A cab had come and taken him somewhere. He had come home with Mitchell’s father, but had left a note for Mitchell, saying that his lunch was in the fridge. The plate in the fridge had a note on top of it, telling him how long to heat the meal in the microwave. Mitchell figured it wasn’t poisoned, so he ate it. He had no idea what it was, but it tasted fantastic. After that, he had started to feel a little guilty about Jake.

“Do you think we could see each other? Tonight sometime?”

“One condition, Tadd.”

“A
condition!
”

“Yes,” Mitchell said, walking right to the end of the hall and speaking in a low voice. “You’ve got to fuck me.”

There was a long silence.

“We could try it.”

“Yeah.”

“But Mitchell—”

“No buts.”

“Well, there has to be at least one butt involved.”

Mitchell smiled. He pulled the phone away from his head as he stifled a laugh.

“ ... then I suppose that would be okay.”

“What?”

“We could try it.”

“Okay.”

“Can I pick you up? Can we do it here?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Maybe an hour, an hour and a half — yeah, say an hour and a half at least. Eight-thirty, or even a little later.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll come by at nine. How does that sound?”

Mitchell said it sounded fine. Back at the table, no one had started. They had waited for Mitchell.

“A friend of yours?” his dad said.

“Yeah.”

“Someone from school.”

“Tadd. The guy you met last night.”

Mitchell was spooning something out of a tureen, though as he finished, he realized his father was studying him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His father hesitated. “I want to have a talk with you Mitchell — as soon as we’ve finished — in my study.”

Oh, no. Not the study. How long had it been since they had had a talk in the study? His dad was no doubt pissed about what Mitchell had said to Jake. He could imagine Jake telling his father the whole of it, though as he thought this, he frowned. Something. He couldn’t remember what.

Pete was telling a joke. “Okay, so this guy goes to a gas station. He splashes gas all over his arm. He’s soaked in it. He pays, drives away, lights himself a smoke, and sets fire to his arm accidentally. Stupidly, he waves it out of the window, trying to put the flames out. The cops pull him over. You know what for?”

No one did.

“Brandishing a firearm in public.”

Mitchell laughed, a single explosion of sound. His father controlled a wry smile.

“Well, that’s not very appropriate,” Jake said. “The poor man’s arm would have been burned all through.”

“It’s a joke, Jake,” Pete said. “You know? Humor?”

Jake frowned.

41

 “Sit down, Mitchell.”

Mitchell sat in the chair and looked over his father’s head at the painting of an English hunting scene that hung on the study wall. The sight of it brought back the memory of countless times he had sat here with his father while his father talked reasonably, talking to Mitchell about kindness, courage, respect, honor — a whole range of ideals. He supposed his father had been pretty old-fashioned in this way. There couldn’t be too many fathers that sat down with their sons and had long one-on-one discussions. At one stage, when Mitchell was eleven or twelve, Pete had jokingly started calling him “Sir,” and had kept it up for more than six months. Following that, Mitchell’s father had seemed to relax his attitude a little, and the talks in the study had become less frequent.

Now, sitting here years later, Mitchell saw it for what it was — his father wanting to do the best job he could do, wanting to bring up his sons to be the best people they could be. And as his father cleared his throat, a troubled look in his eyes, Mitchell saw it all in an oddly different light. All that time, Mitchell’s father had known he was gay, and had probably felt — what? Inadequate?

His father began. “Jake’s told me something today. Something that surprised me.”

Mitchell had known it would be this. “Dad, I ... I know I was rude.”

“Rude?”

“To Jake.”

“It’s news to me.”

Mitchell drew his head back.

“Jake never said anything to me — about you being rude — but he did tell me a couple of other things.” His father cleared his throat. “He told me that you ... that you said you had a boyfriend.”

Mitchell hesitated, staring at his father, and then, very slowly gave a single nod.

“If this is some sort of reaction, Mitchell, to what I’ve done, then I’ve got to tell you ...”

“What?”

“To be yourself.”

Mitchell lowered his eyes. “I’m gay, Dad.”

“And this boy we saw last night — Tadd — he’s your
boyfriend?
”

“I suppose so. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Have you been ...?”

“What?”

“Experimenting ... with him?”

“Dad.”

“I just want to be sure, Mitchell, that you know about safe sex and so on.”

“Dad, they teach us that stuff at school.”

His father nodded.

Mitchell swallowed, wondering if he could leave.

“The other thing he said to me was that you had a problem ... that ...” Here, his father paused. Minutes seemed to pass, but by the end of them, Mitchell knew very well what he was going to say. He didn’t want to hear it from his father, couldn’t imagine how his father could possibly mention it.

He lifted his head. “Can I leave, Dad?”

His father nodded, as though struck dumb.

“It’s okay, Dad.”

“Okay?” His father couldn’t look at him.

“I’m dealing with it.”

42

Tadd came by a couple of minutes after nine. Mitchell had taken so long getting ready, so long in the bathroom, that Pete had chewed him out about it.

“You’re not the only one who’s going out,” Pete said, calling through the door.

“Use the other bathroom.”

“Just hurry the fuck up, Mitchell.”

Even so, Mitchell didn’t hurry. He wanted everything to be perfect for Tadd. He wanted to make sure he was clean, and lube himself up so that Tadd could slide his cock right into Mitchell’s ass. Finally, when Mitchell was finished, Pete opened the door on Mitchell’s side. Mitchell had taken his towel off his waist and was bending over to pick out some underwear. There was so much lubricant in his ass that Mitchell was worried Pete had seen it.

At the sound of the door, Mitchell flinched.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? The bathroom smells like shit.”

“Shit?”

“Shit and perfume.”

“It’s cologne.”

“So you’re wearing cologne now?”

“I left the exhaust on.”

“I’m not so sure I want to share a bathroom with you, Mitchell. I might ask Dad about it. See if you can use the bathroom downstairs.”

“What?”

“Well, Mitchell, whatever you’ve been doing in there — I don’t know. You’ve been in there for almost an hour.”

“An hour!”

“Well, long enough.”

“Can you just leave it alone, Pete? I wasn’t in there that long — and Jake’s cooking doesn’t ... agree with me.”

“I don’t think you agree with him.”

“How could I? And you’ve been telling him stuff about me — private stuff.”

Mitchell was naked and his penis was soft. Pete was staring at it.

“He’s not so bad.”

“Do you like him?” Mitchell said, pulling on a pair of underpants.

“Well, Dad obviously does. So I figure we ought to like him too. You know, you could at least try.”

“Did you see that robin?”

“What robin?”

“He stuck a stuffed robin onto the kitchen window sill. Super-glued it on.”

Pete smiled.

“It’s really not funny.”

“It’s very gay.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I might go and have a look at it.”

“I buried it in the garden.”

Pete frowned. He stared at Mitchell’s groin, though as Mitchell pulled some jeans out, he glanced away again.

Mitchell figured there was no point using a sock, seeing as how Tadd liked his penis small. And Mitchell wouldn’t put a sock into his jocks with Pete standing there.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready or something?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a date with a girl.”

The bell rang, echoing through the house. “Shit,” Mitchell said, pulling his jeans up, though he hadn’t chosen a shirt yet.

Pete retreated, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him and locking it. Fuck, Mitchell thought, he hadn’t even done his hair. He pulled a button down shirt out and began to put it on, leaving his jeans open so he could tuck it in. He was even going to wear a belt, make layers and layers that Tadd had to tear off him.

There was a knock on his door and Mitchell opened it. It was Tadd.

“All ready?”

“Almost.”

Mitchell picked up the towel and started drying his hair. It was cut short, but was smooth and limp. It looked a lot better when it was dry. He had a brush around somewhere — one in the bathroom, but there was one in his bedroom as well. He found it in the top drawer of his night table.

“Can I do that?” Tadd said.

“What?”

“Brush your hair.”

Mitchell stopped. He stood for a moment looking at Tadd, his eyes open wide. Mitchell felt the beginnings of a boner and he handed Tadd the brush.

“Sit down here,” Tadd said, patting the bed.

Mitchell sat down and Tadd put a hand on his shoulder. He began to brush Mitchell’s hair, doing it gently at first, and then getting up onto his knees on the bed. Tadd was so heavy that Mitchell sank backwards. Tadd brushed Mitchell’s bangs from behind, his thighs pressed up against Mitchell’s back. Between Mitchell’s shoulder blades he could feel Tadd’s cock pressed into his skin, soft but getting firmer.

“There,” Tadd said. “Get up, so I can have a look.”

Mitchell got off the bed and turned around.

“I like it like that.”

Mitchell frowned. He turned and opened his closet, taking a look in the mirror. “I look like Justin Bieber,” he said. “The original look.”

“No, you look better than that — better than him.”

Mitchell closed the closet door, pulling out a sweater. “I’m going to have to put this on. It’s going to mess it all up.”

“Put on a jacket.”

“A jacket?”

“Yeah. Have you got a red one?”

“No.”

“Even so, you should wear a jacket. What have you got?”

Mitchell opened the closet again and Tadd got off the bed. He rifled through Mitchell’s clothes and pulled out a jacket, a black one that looked like leather, though it wasn’t.

“Wear this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mitchell took the jacket. He hadn’t worn it in a while because it wasn’t very warm. But he put it on.

“Now you look perfect.”

“
Perfect?
”

“Yeah. I’d like to buy you some clothes though.”

“
Buy
them for me?”

“Yeah. Here,” Tadd said. He drew Mitchell toward him and kissed him gently on the lips. He ran his tongue around the inside of Mitchell’s mouth and then he pulled away. They stared at each other, still embraced.

“Mitchell,” Tadd said, as though his name was a new thing.

Mitchell felt Tadd’s penis growing firm, and in response he got a boner himself, one that popped straight out and was instantly hard.

They managed to get out of the house without seeing anyone. In the car, Tadd said, “This isn’t my thing.”