Keeping You a Secret (23 page)

She pursed her lips at me and reclaimed the book. “Preston and Ty Mangela are stupid ugly idiots. Next time they egg us on the way home from school, we’re calling the cops.”

I laughed. 

She continued reading, “Tiffani Enstrom is boy-crazy.” 

“Whoever she is." My mind wandered. Only three walls remained in our clubhouse, and two of them were in imminent danger of decay. Was it that long ago we’d discovered this place and loved it into a home? We’d strung Mom’s old flowered sheets across the windows and stapled them in place. We'd even squirreled away a stash of butterscotch candies for emergencies. Where were they? In a crevice we’d chiseled out of the tree trunk.

That wasn’t all we'd chiseled. I scrambled to my feet. I had to duck under a cracked limb to reach our spot. My fingers traced the letters in the bark.

“It’s still here," Leah said, appearing at my side, "for all eternity, just the way we planned.” She traced the carvings, too. “The history of our love lives. ‘L.T. + R.R.,’” she read. “Richie Romanowski. I wonder where he is now.”

“Probably in jail since he was dealing dope in sixth graded.” 

She ignored me. “‘L.T. + DF. L.T. + MZ. L.T. + KZ…’”

“You were hornier than Kirsten," I said. 

She slapped my arm. “I was searching. Still am." Her eyes fixed on the tree trunk. Then slowly turned on me. 

I swallowed hard. My mouth felt dry as dust. “Here’s mine." l felt along the indentations. ‘H.J. + …’ “Huh." I blinked at Leah. “Itʼs blank."

“Imagine that.” Leah raised an eyebrow. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

My heart exploded in my chest. I wasn’t so sure about this anymore. I thought I knew Leah, but Cece cautioned me not to expect too much. Not to be too disappointed if Leah needed some time to accept the truth. I didn't think she would…

I broke off a twig, then another. A knot of fear twisted my stomach.

“Do you want me to say it, or do you have like a prepared speech you’ve been rehearsing?”

I lowered my head and laughed to myself. Leah knew me too well. "I'm gay,” I said.

She gasped and covered her mouth. But her eyes gave her away.

“You are so dead," I told her.

She grinned. Peeling off a strip of bark, she asked, “Is it Cece? Is she the one?”

My face flared “Yeah, she’s the one.” 

Leah meandered back to where she’d left the spiral and sat again, I followed her. “Tell me what it's like," she said. 

I soared into space. These were the words I'd been longing to hear. I took a deep breath and opened myself wide. “I love her, Leah. I love her so much. l've never felt this way about anyone before. Cece and I are connected – physically, emotionally, spiritually. It's like she’s inside of me." I clenched a fist to my stomach. “She's a part of me. I can't explain it, She’s my soul mate.”

“I hate her,” Leah said. 

“No." Anger gripped me. “You don’t even know her.” 

Leah shook her head. “I don't mean that. I’m insanely jealous. I can’t even imagine how it would feel for someone to love me that much.”

“Oh, Leah…” 

“I’m happy for you, Holland,” she said. “But sad, too.”

“Why?”

Leah ran a thumbnail down the wire spring of the notebook. “Because it changes things between us.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I shifted to face her. “What are you talking about?" 

“You’re different now. You’ve been different. You haven’t called me in months. You have a new life. New friends.”

“You'll always be my friend. Always.”

“But not like before. I’ll never be one of you.”

“One of who? God, you make it sound like a coven or something."

“Plus, you have her now. You don't need me." Unexpectedly, Leah burst into tears.

She was really bawling. This hurt her. Why? It didn’t seem fair when I was so happy. I folded her in my arms and held her. Storking her braid, I said, “You know, I used to have the worst crush on you."

If my senses hadn’t been heightened, I might not have felt it. The tensing of her muscles, the slight pull away from me. I released her fast.

My brain screamed, You shouldn’t have told her, you idiot! What were you thinking? I scooted back a few inches to put more distance between us.

“So, um, are you bisexual?” Leah asked, digging a tissue out of her shorts pocket. “Because…well, Seth and all.” She blew her nose.

“No. I’m not. I realize now that I only ever loved him as a friend.” By the look on Leah’s face, I’m not sure she understood. I'm not sure I did, completely. "Would you do me a favor, Leah? Would you give Seth a message?”

"Sure,” she said.

“Tell him Iʼm sorry we couldn’t talk about this, that I couldn’t tell him the truth. Tell him he deserves to find someone who can love him in a way I never could.”

She nodded.

"You think heʼll understand?”

“No," she admitted. “Not yet, anyway. He’s pretty pissed. And…you know."

My heart ached. I never meant to hurt him. Never meant to hurt anyone. “He’ll be leaving for college soon,” I thought aloud. “That should help.”

Leah stood up fast and walked across the plank to the other side of the clubhouse. “Everything's changing. Everybody’s leaving.” Her tears threatened a rerun. 

I scrabbled up after her. “You’re leaving, too.” 

“I don’t know what I'm doing. I’m definitely not going to Western State with Kirsten. She told me what she said to you." Leah met my eyes. “I couldn’t believe it. Yes, I could. Kirstens always been so jealous of you.”

“Me?" I frowned. “Why?”

“Why? You’re smarter than her, more popular, you have a great relationship with your mom, you have Seth. Had,” she corrected herself. 

"Had" was the operative word. I pressed in a loose nail on the floor. “People never see beneath the surface.”

“Especially her," Leah said. “She’s so shallow, all she has beneath her surface is a, a cesspool.” 

I widened my eyes at Leah. We both cracked up. I don’t know what was so funny. The truth?

Leah shook her head. “Kirsten's such a bitch. After I let her know we were officially ex-friends, I wanted to call you so bad.”

“Oh, Leah.” 

She added quickly, “I just wish things would stay the same forever. Don't you?” 

God, no. If the cosmos hadn’t shifted, if I hadn’t risked change, I might never have found Cece. Found myself. I would've lived a lie, created a life around other people’s expectations.

"My mom kicked me out of the house,” I said. 

"What?” Leah gasped. “No.”

I told her everything that had transpired since Cece, deliberately leaving out the part about The Secret. That was a private matter between Cece and me, our own personal history. We were building on that and it felt sort of sacred.

My eyes drifted down to my watch. "Shit. I have to go." Cece was taking me to her Unity rehearsal tonight to introduce me to her friends. It was a big step for her. For us.

Leah and I descended the tree. At the bottom, I said, “Wait. We forgot the secret spy book." I started back up.

“Leave it.” She snagged my arm. “Maybe some other kids will find it and carry on the tradition." She gazed up at the crumbling clubhouse for a long moment, then looked at me. “The secret password was stewardess corp.” 

"What?” I made a face.

“It’s an anagram for secret password.” 

“How lame. Who came up with that?”

“You did. I always thought it was brilliant.” Leah smiled, sort of sad and nostalgic. Then she headed off through the woods.

A wave of grief washed over me. Leah would always be my friend, but she was right. Things had changed. Her world seemed very small to me, confined and limited, while mine had expanded, illuminated, grown. I saw everything now through different eyes. Wide awake and focused.

There were decisions to make. My combined paychecks from Children’s Cottage and Hott ’N Tott didn't begin to cover my expenses: car payment, gas, insurance, cell phone, not to mention the bare necessities like food, clothing, shelter. Taggert House shouldn’t have to absorb all my living expenses, I felt. Even though Cece’s uncle had hired me for the morning shift four days a week, l needed a second job that paid better. So I quit Children's Cottage. It killed me to do it, but the pay sucked, and seeing the kids every day was like this constant reminder of loss in my life.

William suggested I go down to the Center and check out their employment resources. So I did, over spring break. They hooked me up with this local moving company owned by a couple of gay guys. The work was physically demanding, but it paid well and the hours were flexible. I could work around my school schedule, plus pick up extra hours on the weekends.

Next year loomed closer on the horizon. What was I going to do with my life? Tossing a futon into a moving van wasn’t exactly nuclear physics. Cece was right, I needed to think about my future. What were my options? I could work three or four jobs forever at minimum wage and scrape by. But was that all I wanted out of life, to scrape by?

There had to be more. Something was out there for me, a job, a career, a reason I was put on this earth. I hated to admit it, hut maybe Mom was right. College would open a lot of doors.

Unfortunately, by the time I figured this out, it was too late to apply. At least to any colleges or universities I could afford. Plus, my grades had plummeted this semester. I’d be lucky to pull C average.

At our Sunday gathering William broached the subject of long-range goals. He said it was important to have things to look for ward to, to believe we could achieve greatness. He must’ve been reading my mind.

We went around the table to share what we envisioned for our selves. I mentioned how I’d like to go to college next year, but couldn’t now. William said, “Why not, hon?”

“It’s too late to apply. I’ll have to wait until next semester.”

"You could go to Metro Urban," Ramon piped up, passing nice the croissants. “That’s where I go. I think you can apply up to a week before classes start.”

“You're kidding. How much is tuition, since I have, like, zero money?” 

“They have a gay and lesbian college fund,” Ramon said. “Thatʼs how I'm doing it."

My hopes shot through the roof. “Do you have to qualify, because my grades this year suck.”

Ramon shook his head. "GPA isn’t all that important. They let me go cuz I beautify the campus.”

William snorted. Dodging a strawberry one of the other guys threw across the table at him, Ramon added, “If you want, I could pick you up a catalog.” 

“No, that’s okay. I can get one at school. Thanks.” 

I didn’t dare get excited. What if they rejected me? I had nothing to fall back on – just in case. 

I stalled around in the media center after school on Monday, watching the clock and waiting. When it got to feeling like a morgue, I decided now or never. The Metro catalogs would be among the state schools, stacked right outside the career center door. I could pick one up, make a run for it…

I turned the corner and there she was, tacking an index card onto the bulletin board. Shit.

“Um, hi, Mrs. Lucas,” I faked a cheery greeting. “Can I get a Metro catalog?” 

She didn’t answer right away, just looked at me. Make that glared. Brrr. 

“There they are." I pointed to the stack. “I’ll just get one and leave." 

“I don’t believe you,” she said. 

The hair on my neck stood up. I quickly snatched a catalog. "What about your acceptance at Stanford? Are you going to just throw that away?” 

I straightened fast. “I got accepted at Stanford?” 

“All the time and effort we've gone to for you, to offer you every opportunity available." She pursed her lips. “Do you know what this is doing to your mother?” 

What it's doing to
her
? She’s the one – Oh, forget it. I turned and stalked off. What business was it of hers? Just let me get on with my life.

I spun my combination lock and flung open the locker. My eyes were drawn to the mirror and I screamed. The person behind me jumped back a foot. “Jesus,” she said, holding her heart.

“Faith?" I wheeled around. "I, uh, didn’t recognize you.”

She palmed her head – her shaved head. It wasn’t completely bald; she’d left an inch of stubble all over the scalp. I couldn’t help visualising a hedgehog.

“I’m shedding my inhibitions,” she said.

I laughed.

“No? Then how about it saves on shampoo?”

“Not even.” I had the strongest urge to feel her furry head, but squelched it. Too intimate a gesture. As I loaded my backpack, Faith said, “I brought your mail." She handed me a fistful of letters. Most were bills. The letter from Stanford. The envelope had been opened, of course. Stanford was so not in my future. There was one letter at the bottom that made my stomach knot. Shoving the stack into my backpack, I said to Faith, “Walk me out?”

On our way to the parking lot, she asked where I was living and how I was doing. I filled her in on Taggert House, told her about my jobs. “Maybe you could come stay with us some weekend?”

“Yeah?" Faith’s eyebrows arched. “How ’bout this weekend? How 'bout every weekend?”

I smiled at her. "I’ll ask Cece and let you know. But…” I hesitated. “What’ll your dad say?”

“When?” 

“When you tell him where youʼre going.”

ʻ“When?"

“Faith.” I widened my eyes at her.

“IʼlI deal with Dad. I’ve got him wrapped about my bloody little finger, in case you hadn’t noticed. Don’t worry about it.” 

I did worry. Felt protective. Faith needed to hold on to her family. Our family. For her, for me. While we were on the subject…

“How is everyone?” I asked. 

“About the same,” she answered. “A real laugh riot. Oh, Hannah started crawling.”

“Already?"

Faith nodded. "Your mom said, 'Holland ought be here to see this.’” 

My body sagged. Faith opened her mouth to say something else, but must’ve changed her mind. She stuck her pinkie in her mouth instead. 

I evil-eyed her. 

She dropped her hand. 

"What?” I demanded. 

She swallowed hard. “She cries. I can hear her at night.” 

I had to look away. 

Faith added, “I just thought you should know.”