Kickass Anthology (37 page)

A huge groan wafted up from the crowd, but Blake wasn’t finished yet. He turned to his mother and she handed him the sheaf of signatures. He tossed it up onto the desk in front of Mr. Brent, who picked it up and casually thumbed through.

Mr. Brent passed the stack along to Mrs. Owens beside him, and on down the board members it went. Our BLA chapter president waited for everyone to look through it, and one-by-one, all of them nodded in his direction.

“Blake, we’re impressed by your passion and your diligence in collecting all these names. It shows the kind of initiative we try to model in the BLA. But the board members and myself have discussed this matter thoroughly, and we’re all in agreement. Evan is out.”

“So you agree with that stupid-ass policy?” Blake said loudly. Even from way in the back, I saw his whole body stiffen. I could tell he was about to lose it.

Marcus Brent didn’t back down. “Yes, we do.”

“Fine!” Blake tossed the mic onto the desk and a huge
thunk
roared through the room when it struck the wood. Then he did something that astonished me. He snatched off his cap and threw it onto the desk directly in front of a very surprised Marcus Brent. Then his uniform shirt was off and tossed in a heap beside it, leaving him clad in his khaki uniform pants and a white tee.

“I quit. I’ll give you the rest of the uniform later, ’less you want me to take my pants off here? Hell, might make somebody turn into a criminal if I did!” Then he spun on his heel. “I’m outta here, Mom!”

He strode down the center aisle as every stunned face turned to follow. Brenda leapt up and hurried after him. Blake passed me without a word and pushed his way out the front door, his mom trailing in his wake.

I felt sick. The BLA was everything to Blake. Hell, it was to most of the boys in town. Same with the GLA program for the girls. Kids lived for those summer camp activities.

I released Serg’s hand and hurried after Blake,

“Evan, wait,” Serg began, but I was already through the door.

I found Blake pacing back and forth in fury, while Brenda tried to calm him down with soothing words. Blake stopped when he saw me. I saw his eyes flick up and behind, and figured Sergio had joined us.

“Blake,” I stammered, “You shouldn’t have done that. I’m not worth it.”

At my words, the boy’s round face scrunched up even more with anger. “You sure as hell are, Evan. Fuck those assholes!”

I stepped closer, feeling like I should hug him, but not certain it would be welcome anymore. He
was
thirteen, and he
did
know I was gay. But before I could barely think those thoughts Blake’s arms were wrapped around me, pulling me into a crushing hug.

“You been with me all along, Evan, ever since my daddy took off. You’re the kinda a man I wanna be, not like them.”

I almost lost it right there, but thanks to the sensation of Serg’s hand, squeezing my shoulder supportively, I was able to hold it together. And just then Dad stepped out of the Town Hall. I looked over Blake’s head and saw Dad smiling.

“What?”

Dad’s smile turned into a grin. “Come look.”

Confused, I released Blake and with my arm around his shoulders we stepped over to Dad. Serg followed at my other side and we stood as Dad opened the wide double doors leading into the meeting hall.

I gasped, and Blake whispered, “Oh, hell, yeah!”

In a line, every boy passed the board member’s desk and tossed their hats and shirts into a rapidly growing pile. The line headed down the center aisle right toward us, as we stood outside looking in. As the first boys and their parents exited into the parking lot to join us, a ten-year-old camper from last year named Billy, said, “We all quit, Evan.”

A breeze could have knocked me over, and both Blake and Serg had to press  in against me to make sure I didn’t collapse. “Huh?”

Billy’s dad, Raymond, clapped a hand to his son’s shoulder and looked me in the eye as the mass exodus continued to fill up the parking lot around me. “We put our kids in the BLA so they could learn how to be good men, Evan, not to discriminate. I’ve known you since you were a small boy, and my son idolizes you. We all feel that way. If the BLA doesn’t want you, we figured it didn’t want us, either.”

Blake released me in order to high-five Billy. Then he high-fived Billy’s dad and each and every boy who streamed out of the building. By the time the room had emptied and the parking lot had filled, everyone was chattering and murmuring with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

The board members sat facing an empty meeting hall in open-mouthed shock.

Dad closed the double doors, turned toward me, and sent this ‘holy crap’ kind of expression in my direction. I felt amazingly affirmed, and, at the same time, unbearably guilty. Thanks to me, all of these kids would have no summer camp, and life in Cottonhead during the summer was hot and dry and boring as hell without it.

As though reading my mind, Blake suddenly grabbed onto my arm like a vise.
Damn, when did this kid get so strong?

“I just got me a bomb-ass idea, Evan!” His face was sort of open and glowing and more excited than I’d ever seen it. “Hey, everybody, listen up!” he shouted, and my ears rang from the unexpected shrill tone.

Boy, this kid can project!

Blake leapt up onto the planter by the front door and, once again, called for everyone’s attention. When the huge crowd finally settled down enough to hear him, he said, “I’m proud of us all for what we done tonight.”

There was applause and whoops from the kids.

“But now we don’t got no summer camp,” Blake went on, and I saw the crowd shift with that realization, even as a groan wafted through it. Obviously, they hadn’t thought of that when they’d quit.

“Without all ’a us, Mr. Brent and them board members only got their own kids for this BLA chapter, cuz we were the whole deal. Now I don’t know about you guys, but I want me a summer camp. How ’bout you all?”

The boys shouted out, “Yes!”

Now Blake pulled my dad in on one side and me on the other. And he gave Serg the head nod to join us. “We got us a contractor right here–” he clapped Dad on the shoulder, “a lifeguard here–” he clapped Serg hard on the shoulder, “and a kick-ass troop leader here.” His hand slapped my shoulder. “And we got all you parents out there. What say we hit up the city council to let us build our own camp out by the lake? We can start our own program, maybe call it the RLA or something, and have the best summer ever!”

The kids went wild with enthusiasm, and I knew I looked like a dork with my mouth hanging open. Even Serg, who’d long ago mastered the art of looking cool, had a goofy expression on his face, so I didn’t feel like such a loser.

Billy thrust a hand into the air in order to ask a question, and Blake smirked. “We’re not in school, Billy—you don’t need to raise your hand or nothin’.”

After a quick shrug and slow lowering of his hand, Billy asked, “What’s RLA stand for?”

“Real Leaders of America,” Blake tossed out. “We can include girls, too, if any wanna join. Pretty sure the GLA gots the same policy about hating on people, so why not?”

Billy’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You want
girls?”

“Hey, man, I’m thirteen,” Blake answered with an eye roll, and many of the older boys laughed.

And then a huge meeting of sorts got going, right there in the parking lot. Ideas started flying back and forth about how to make Blake’s idea a reality, and how we could put the plan in place fast enough so the kids would have some kind of summer camp this year.

I turned to Blake, my eyes predictably welling with tears of gratitude despite my consistent, but unattainable, desire to remain stoic. He only grinned more broadly and glanced over at Serg. “So, boyfriend, you up for some guard duty this summer?”

Sergio raised a fist to Blake and they automatically bumped. “You’re a slick one, Funky Boy.”

Blake nodded once very slowly and then squinted his eyes menacingly. “You remember what I told you a ’bout Evan.”

He looked so serious I almost gasped, but then he winked at Sergio.

“Thank you, Blake,” I gushed. “You’re like, the most amazing kid I ever knew.”

Blake shrugged off my compliment as if he heard words like that every day. “True. My funkiness is just me showing my badass nature. My amazingness I learned from you. And your dad. He’s the one who started all this.”

My face went blank as I looked from Blake to Dad. “Huh?” There I was, the king of uncool again.

Dad merely shrugged his large shoulders. “All I did was spread the word that you were fired. Blake’s the one who volunteered to do the petition.”

I leaned in and threw my arms around my dad, feeling like a little boy again, so happy and proud to have this man as my father. Dad reached out and pulled Blake in for a hug. Then Blake reached out and grabbed Serg by the arm, dragging him into the group hug. It was a magical moment I would never forget.

I STOOD looking around our spanking new campgrounds in awe. No, the project wasn’t finished, but enough cabins had been built and enough materials and supplies purchased by all the parents chipping in to have at least the basics in place. It was July 4
th
weekend and we were in full swing with what we had scrounged up. We had six canoes for the lake, plenty of well mapped-out hiking trails, roped-off swimming areas, and even four restored cabins with decent bunks and running water that had been donated to us by a closed-down resort area.

Dad and the other parents had gotten the City Council to approve everything very quickly, especially when they heard the reason why. I guess I was more popular than I thought. I’d always just tried to be a good kid and not get in anyone’s face growing up, and I guess people noticed that. I’d like to hope they’d do the same for anyone being discriminated against, but who knows?

True to Blake’s prediction, most families pulled their girls from the GLA and enrolled them in the new RLA. With all the dues money flowing in, I was getting paid, as was Serg and the other counselors. Understanding that there were times that boys should interact only with other boys and girls with other girls, we had both mixed and separate activities planned throughout the summer.

Dad and Serg sauntered over, chatting amiably like they’d known each other for years. Yeah, Serg had that effect on people. And I’d swear my breath stopped for a couple of seconds every time I saw Serg in his red lifeguard trunks and tank top. His brown skin almost shimmered in the sunlight, and I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone more beautiful. Inside or out.

“Having fun, Dad?” I asked as they stopped in front of me.

Dad wore a RLA T-shirt, like I did (which also constituted our last-minute camper uniform) and carried a huge cup of iced tea. “The best. Brenda and I have been hanging out, as you kids say. Impressive woman.”

Something in my father’s tone caused me to hesitate, and Serg caught my eye with a slight nod and a grin.

Just then Blake ran up to us wearing very funky-looking board shorts adorned with skulls and bones.
Where does he find this stuff
? I wondered.
But before I could say anything he threw both hands to his hips and glared at Serg like a parent scolding a young child.

“Well,
boyfriend
? It’s swim time. Gotta get yer ass down to the lake or we can’t go in.” He couldn’t keep a straight face, though, and soon broke into a grin.

“Be right there, sir!” Serg saluted.

Blake winked at me and bolted off in the direction of the lake.

I shook my head in wonder, and then smirked at Serg.

“What?” he asked, a bit defensively.

“I think Blake is right.”

“About?” His eyebrows were raised and his full lips looked so inviting I wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“I like ‘boyfriend’ better.” I grinned as his eyebrows rose even higher.

“You do, do you?”

I nodded, my own smile growing wider. “Has a nice ring to it…”

Serg paused for a moment, his face thoughtful. Then he grinned right back. “Okay, ‘boyfriend’ it is.”

As though on cue, Blake’s deep voice sailed up at us from the lake. “Sometime today, boyfriend!”

I cracked up. Then I leaned in for a quick touch of my lips to Serg’s. “Go get ’em, boyfriend.”

Serg laughed and headed down to the screaming, excited children lined up by the lifeguard tower, awaiting him.

Dad and I stood and watched as the kids jumped excitedly into the water, splashing each other with wild abandon, Blake taking charge as usual.

Suddenly I felt a tug on my shirtsleeve and looked down to see a boy I knew gazing up at me. I gasped. It was Marcus Brent’s eleven-year-old son, Davey. He was wearing swim trunks and a plain white tee, and holding a paper in his hand.

“Hey, Davey, what’s up?” Then I looked around anxiously, expecting Mr. Brent to be hovering nearby, maybe with some kind of court order to shut us down, which he
had
threatened to do. So far, though, we hadn’t heard a peep out of him.