Rainbow High (25 page)

“Thanks for talking to Coach Sweeney,” Kyle said, recovering from his own blush.

“I hope it helped.” Coach nodded and turned to Jason. “By the way, I want you to stop by my office Monday. I think I’ve found a col ege interested in talking with you.”

“You serious?” Jason said, afraid to get his hopes up.

“It’s stil extremely preliminary,” Coach warned. “But let’s talk about it.” Jason’s chest swel ed with new optimism as he and Kyle biked home from the mal .

It had been hard for Jason to stay hopeful after losing his scholarship—especial y when he heard Corey, Andre, and his other teammates talk about their plans for next year.

Dwayne served as a constant reminder of that loss, rousing Jason’s nerves each time they passed in the hal at school.

“I heard about them pul ing your scholarship,” Dwayne commented one day, grinning ear to ear. “That’s
so
too bad.” Jason wanted to pound him right then and there—may as wel finish the “altercation” that had supposedly cost the scholarship.

But would that resolve anything? Wouldn’t there always be a Dwayne, someone to goad him?

Summoning al his resolve, Jason brushed past him.

With the end of basketbal season Jason’s schedule had final y eased up enough for him to attend GSA meetings. He carried his lunch tray to the counselors’ conference room and recal ed the first meeting, when a group of boys had harassed students going in. Now no one even seemed to notice.

This day the topic focused on ensuring same-sex couples had been able to get the “couple discount” on prom tickets. At the end of the meeting as students were leaving, Ms. MacTraugh told Jason, “I’ve missed seeing you. Why don’t you stop by after school, so we can chat again?”

He agreed and after the last bel headed to her art classroom, where she was taking down paintings.

“Do you mind helping me?” She peered at him through her round wireframes. “It’s time to start cleaning up for the end of the year.” He helped her pul down artwork and apologized for not having come to many GSA meetings. “I wanted to, but with practice and the team ...” His voice trailed off.

“Coach told me what happened with your scholarship,” Ms. MacTraugh said as she steadied a stepladder for Jason.

“Yeah.” Jason handed her a painting. “I’m stil a little bit bummed about it.”

“I would think you’d be outraged.” Her voice grew loud.

“Wel , yeah,” Jason muttered. “I was.”

“And you’re not anymore?” She adjusted her glasses.

“Maybe a little.” He stepped off the ladder. “But what can I do about it? Coach already tried talking to the Tech coaches.”

“That’s enough for today.” Ms. MacTraugh gazed at the half-bare wal s. “I get too sad taking them al down at once. Have a seat.” She pul ed out a block of writing paper. “Why don’t you write a letter to Tech and get it off your chest?”
That’s a stupid idea,
Jason thought. “It won’t do any good.”

But Ms. MacTraugh handed him a pen. “Come on.” She patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t want to carry this around the rest of your life.

Write down everything you want to tel them. The important thing is to get it out.” Grudgingly Jason took the pen. While Ms. MacTraugh washed paintbrushes, he stared at the blank paper, with no idea where to start. Then a devilish thought crossed his mind. Hadn’t Ms. MacTraugh said he could write anything he wanted?

Dear Tech a-holes,

You can keep your stupid scholarship
. ..

Slowly, as the anger poured from his heart, down his arm, through his fingers, and into his pen, he wrote . . . and raged . . . and released . ..

By the time he finished, he’d fil ed up six pages. He looked at the clock. An hour had passed. He’d never written so much in one sitting. Like after a game, he felt exhausted. And he felt something else, though he couldn’t quite put a name to it.

He glanced at Ms. MacTraugh, jotting at her desk, and recal ed her statement to the GSA at the start of the semester: “Words have power.” Was this what she had meant?

It felt as though in writing these pages he’d reclaimed what Tech’s retraction letter had taken from him: his power.

He’d known Tech might take his scholarship away. Coming out seemed like the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But he’d done it. And no one could ever take
that
away from him.

Ms. MacTraugh looked up. “Al done?”

He nodded. “What should I do with it?”

“Take a few days to think about it. You may want to send it.

Or you might want to hold on to it. You’l decide what’s best.”

He folded the letter into his breast pocket. “Thanks,” he said, standing up.

“Thank
you,”
she told him. “You’ve helped change the world, Jason.” Him? Change the world? Yeah, right. “I don’t think so,” he told her.

“You may not see it now.” She smiled. “But some day you wil .”

Whatever,
he thought. He did feel better, though. After saying good-bye, he headed home.

His mom was in the kitchen, sorting through mail. “Hi, honey. How was school?”

“Great!” He picked Rex up and started stroking him.

“What happened that’s so great?” His mom gazed over her reading glasses at him.

Jason rubbed his fingers through the purring cat’s fur. “I just feel great, that’s al .” She gave him a curious look. “I spoke to the mailroom manager today.”

Earlier she had mentioned to Jason that she’d try to get him a summer job at her company, so they could spend more time together.

“He said he wants you to come in for an interview, even though he already saw your interview on TV.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I hope it works out.”

He could tel she was trying to accept and understand him. “Me too,” he said.

She smiled and returned to the pile of mail, holding out a hand-addressed envelope to him. “Here’s one for you. It looks like more fan mail.” Jason waited til he got to his room to read it. Though he’d read some of the letters out loud to his mom, it seemed like they didn’t hold the same meaning for her that they did for him.

He put his backpack down on his bed, pul ed off his jacket, and gently tore open the hand-scrawled envelope.

Hi Jason,

It’s taken me a long time to get the nerve to write. You see, when I heard you on TV, I knew... I also am gay. But I don’t know how to handle
it.

At my high school I’m the captain of the wrestling team. Every day I have to deal with homophobia. And yet in classes, sex hardly ever
gets addressed, especially homosexuality, as if it doesn’t exist.

Seeing you on TV inspired me a lot. I really want to come out to friends, but instead If find myself lying. I guess I’m afraid. What if they
ditch me?

Maybe someday I’ll feel brave enough to come out like you.

In the meantime, I just wanted to say thanks. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

Jason stared at the handwriting, wishing he could write back, but the envelope bore no return address. So instead, he simply held the letter for a minute and silently hoped the guy would be okay.

As he folded the sheet of paper up Jason thought about his own letter in his breast pocket. Yeah, it was true he had lost the scholarship he’d wanted so badly, but in the process he’d gained something far greater.

He had become a role model after al .

One night at dinner Nelson laid his palms flat on the tabletop, preparing for his mom’s guaranteed freak-out when he told her his prom plans.

“Mom?” He tried to keep his voice steady. “I’ve asked Jeremy to go to the dance with me ... as friends.” Her gaze moved across Nelson’s face as if searching. At last she said, “That’s fine.” Huh? Why wasn’t she wigging out? Nelson chewed on his tofu, mul ing over her response. Had she real y decided to trust him? If they were going to have a show down, better to have it now than later.

“So . . . how do you know I’m not lying to you about just being friends?”

“Are you?” she said, calmly scooping more rice.

He pushed a piece of broccoli from one side of his plate to the other. “No.”

“Nelson, I never said I didn’t like Jeremy. I think he’s a very nice boy. I just don’t want you romantical y involved with him.” Nelson poured soy sauce onto his plate, relieved to hear she stil liked Jeremy.

“From the start he wanted me to mention the HIV to you. He felt bad I didn’t.”

“Wel ... I wish you had listened to him. How is his health?”

“Great, usual y. Better than mine.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Invite him over again sometime. I’d like to get to know him more. I think you can learn a lot from him—and become good friends.”

Nelson poked at the food on his plate, stil unsure. Could they be friends?

The week before the prom Nelson raced around in a whirlwind, hauling Kyle with him as he picked out a boutonniere for Jeremy, chose a predance restaurant, made dinner reservations, dyed his hair purple, and selected a tuxedo and accessories.

Saturday afternoon Nelson’s mom dropped him off at Kyle’s.

“I know this is a big night for you,” she said, her eyes misting up with tears.

“Mom, why are you crying? It’s just a dance. Chil ax,
please?”

Even though he’d stopped kissing her in ninth grade, he now leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. She wrapped her arms around him, nearly squeezing him to death. When she final y let go, he grabbed his prom duds and hurried up the sidewalk before she decided to throw herself at his feet or something.

“And don’t wait up for me,” he yel ed, and waved good-bye.

In Kyle’s bedroom the two boys cranked the stereo and began excitedly stripping and dressing. With each new garment Nelson strutted a make-believe fashion runway.

Although they were able to help each other with their cufflinks, when it came to the bow ties, they hit a snag. Kyle had a simple pre-tied one, but Nelson had the real thing. No matter how much they fumbled, neither he nor Kyle could tie it.

“Dad!” Kyle swung open the door. “We need your help!”

“Wow!” His mom whistled, leaning in the doorway. “You both look so dashing.” His dad clambered up the stairs. Facing Kyle’s mirror, he circled his arms around Nelson, showing him how to tie the bow. It was a moment Nelson would’ve never imagined.

Mrs. Meeks took photos of Kyle and Nelson—some kil er-serious poses and some goofy ones. Her car had been designated as the prom-mobile. After another mushy damp-eyed-mom good-bye scene, Nelson and Kyle hurried off to Jason’s.

Melissa answered the Carril os’ door, gleeful y jumping up and down.

While Jason and Kyle pinned each other’s boutonnieres, Melissa giggled. “You look like you’re getting married.” Nelson turned away, wanting to gag.

More photos flashed—of Kyle and Jason; Nelson with Kyle and Jason; Jason, his mom, his sister, and—at Melissa’s insistence—the Siamese cat.

As the boys said bye, Jason hugged his mom, tel ing her something in Spanish, and she joined the weepy mother’s league.

When the boys reached Jeremy’s, Kyle and Jason waited in the car outside the apartment building while Nelson carried his little boutonniere box up the familiar stairway.

From inside Jeremy’s apartment came the muffled chords of country music. Nelson’s heart panged with reminiscence and fil ed him with doubt: Would he be able to get through this evening?

Straightening his tie, he rang the bel .

Jeremy’s brother opened the door. “Hey, come on in.” He shouted “Jeremy!” over his shoulder and went to sit in front of the TV.

The clack of Western boots came from around the bedroom corner as Jeremy hurried in, adjusting his cuffs and tux sleeves. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nelson echoed, wondering if they were going to kiss or hug or at least shake hands. Unable to make the first move, he merely said,

“You shaved your goatee off. Looks great.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy rubbed a hand across his chin. “You look great too. I like the hair. Cool tux.” They stared silently at each other like two penguins on ice.

“I, um ...” Nelson held out the flower box.

“Let me get yours,” Jeremy said, and retrieved it from the refrigerator.

As they moved close to pin each other’s lapels, Jeremy’s breath blew warm on Nelson’s cheek, making Nelson ache to feel Jeremy’s tender lips once more.

But Jeremy stepped back. “Ready to go?”

“No!” Nelson wanted to plead. But instead he mumbled a resigned “Okay.”

Outside he introduced Jeremy to Jason and they climbed in back of the car. Although they sat side by side, merely inches apart, to Nelson it seemed like a mil ion miles.

For dinner Kyle and Nelson had selected a swank seafood-and-steak place traditional with prommies. Jeremy sat diagonal y from Nelson.

Each time their knees bumped accidental y, Nelson nearly jolted off his chair.

He tried ordering a cocktail to soothe his nerves, but the waitress carded him, so he had to endure his confusion sober, barely able to look at

—much less speak—to Jeremy. Nelson didn’t want to be mean and ignore him, but this whole situation was just too freakin’ awkward.

Maybe things would get better once they got to the prom. They couldn’t get much worse.

In the hotel lobby the sound of Madonna blared from the bal room. A cloud of perfume and cologne wafted over Nelson as he led the way through the prom crowd.

On the dance floor, schoolmates bounced like mad as the twinkling reflection from the mirror bal sparkled across tuxes and gowns. Cliques circled the edges, chattering and checking out one another’s outfits.

“There’s Debra!” Jason shouted.

Nelson turned to see her squeezing through the crush in a smoldering ivory strapless, pul ing Lance behind her. Cindy and Corey fol owed.

Debra embraced Jason, kissing his cheek, and said something in his ear. In turn, Jason gently squeezed her hand.

Nelson watched, marveling. How had Jason and Debra managed to stay friends after breaking up?

“So are you guys real y going to dance with each other?” Cindy asked the boys, direct as ever.