Unnatural (12 page)

Michael dove in next, the white stone swirling near him, now forgotten, its use finished, and he began to swim after Ronan, deeper and deeper until the blueness of the water had turned from pale to dark. But Ronan was nowhere to be found. Michael felt his heartbeat increase as he looked wide-eyed to the left, the right, but still could not bring Ronan into his vision. Where was he? Where had he gone?
No, our game isn’t over,
Michael thought,
not yet. It’s only just begun.

Feeling his chest tighten, Michael brought his knees up, then pushed down to propel himself back up toward and through the water’s surface. Gasping, he gulped air back into his lungs, spinning around to see if Ronan had emerged in a different part of the lake. No, he was alone. As alone as he was back in Weeping Water, as alone as he had been for the first sixteen years of his life. It wasn’t fair. Why should he meet someone who held the promise of companionship, of escape, of possibly a future, only to have that person taken away from him in a split second? Treading water, his legs growing weary, Michael acknowledged with a full heart that life could sometimes be cruel. Then he quickly learned it could also offer hope.

He felt the placid water next to him turn into a current, then a wave, as something shot past him from underneath into the sky above. It was Ronan. His entire body, his entire naked body, free from the confines of the lake, glistening in the sun, was airborne. Michael was astounded by the sight. Pieces of porcelain-colored flesh, midnight black hair slicked back, droplets of water falling from curved muscle, Ronan looked like a god, and Michael thought he looked at him with godly passion.

Now Michael stirred in his bed, his sleeping mind consumed with new and fantastic thoughts, while Ronan lay still. But in their dream they switched roles. Splashing back down, Ronan’s face was euphoric; he embraced Michael roughly and held him close, their bodies melding into one. Michael held on tightly, a bit
afraid to journey into this new territory, but fully aware that Ronan would lead him to his destiny. And Ronan was fully aware that without Michael next to him, his destiny would not be worth reaching.

Ronan unfurled his clasped hand and showed Michael the white stone. Always playing games, Michael thought. But no, the time for games had come to an end. Ronan tossed the stone up and behind him because they no longer needed an excuse to touch each other, to give in to the urge to feel each other’s body. They were alive and they wanted each other. It was that simple. And nothing and no one would make them feel ashamed of their desires.

Ronan kissed Michael deeply and then pulled back and repeated what he said to Michael before he dove deep into the water’s hidden area. “I can’t wait to show you all my secrets.”

Finally, both boys awoke bathed in a mixture of joy and fear.

   St. Sebastian’s Gym was the largest building on the entire campus. It housed a basketball court, an indoor track, a weight room, a gymnastics annex, locker rooms complete with sauna and steam room, and, on the far end of the building, an Olympic-size swimming pool. The pool was lined with a series of windows just as in St. Joshua’s Library, but these were larger, floor to ceiling, and overlooked the unpopulated forest that belonged to Double A. Long ago the students had given the woods a mysterious name: The Forest of No Return.
Just an attempt to be funny, somewhat grand, they had no idea that truth lay behind that name. The trees were so tall and so close together you couldn’t see more than a few feet into their depth and there were large patches within the body of The Forest that held no sunlight, no opening to the sky. Looking out the window, Michael felt as if he were standing at the entrance to the unknown. It was the same feeling he got when he looked to his right to stare at Ronan.

They smiled at each other but turned quickly away, if only for practical reasons. Every boy in class was wearing the same bathing suit, a skimpy navy blue Speedo with two gold
A
s on either side of their hips. While their suits were perfect for the game of water polo they were about to play, they were not the best for concealing their excitement upon seeing each other. Luckily, they only had to distract themselves for a minute before Mr. Blakeley blew his whistle, which meant the kids could jump into the pool’s, thankfully, cold water.

Actually they were playing a cross between water polo and volleyball since the pool was only three feet deep. Fritz was the captain of his team, which included Michael, Ciaran, and several other students Michael didn’t yet know. Ronan and Penry were part of the opposing team, led by a slender Japanese boy he hadn’t met but had heard Ronan call Nakano. He was one of the few kids wearing protective eyewear, goggles made of bright yellow plastic. His hair was cut razor short, but still maintained its deep black color. Michael thought he looked like a bumblebee. After Nakano served the
ball with a swift, aggressive punch accompanied by a loud grunt, Michael changed his mind. Nakano looked like a hostile bumblebee.

“Hey, Nebraska!” Fritz shouted. “You might want to try to return the serve next time.”

Michael heard the words in his head.
Shut up, Mauro!
But this wasn’t Mauro, this wasn’t Two W, this was new, his new life, and Fritz was just ragging on him. It was no big deal. He had heard Fritz taunt some other guys so it wasn’t like he was zeroing in on Michael. At least not for now. Still, he had to figure out a way to veer Fritz’s comments in another direction or say something that would combat them directly. What did Mr. Alfano say? “Stand up for yourself; otherwise it’s only going to get worse.” He agreed with Mr. Alfano, but for the moment he decided it was best to keep quiet.

He was uncomfortable as it was in gym class, He needed to focus all his energy on playing the game and not trying to come up with a clever retort. Michael looked over at Fritz and shrugged his shoulders, missing Ronan glare at Nakano. Ronan’s glare spoke volumes and as a result Nakano’s next serve wasn’t nearly as powerful. Surprised, Michael almost forgot to react, but at the last second, he clasped his hands together, right thumb into left palm, and was able to bounce the volleyball off his forearms and into the air. Ciaran lunged forward and spiked it over the net. One, nothing.

“Like that?” Michael asked Fritz. It was a bit cocky, but Michael couldn’t help himself.

Neither could Fritz, not when it came to competition.
“That’s one score, Nebraska. The game hasn’t even started.”

One score was better than none. Michael felt some of the fear that had been suffocating him for so long being released, breath by breath, and replaced with a feeling that resembled happiness. Sad that at sixteen he was only just beginning to be happy; but no, ignore that, ignore the past and look forward, straight ahead at Ronan. Right into the eyes of his future.

What kind of future can I possibly offer him?
Ronan tried to push the thought out of his head, but he was so preoccupied with it, he swung and completely missed the ball when Penry lobbed it right to him. It plopped into the water a few inches to his left. “You’re a bit off your game, aren’t you, mate?” Penry asked, and followed up with his trademark laugh. Just as Ronan arched his thick black eyebrows and shrugged his strong shoulders, Nakano remarked in a low voice, “And onto someone else’s.” Michael couldn’t quite catch what he said, but he saw Nakano’s head tilt slightly in his direction. He was definitely talking about him.

The rest of the game seemed to fly by. Fritz shouted some more and a few times aimed his voice at someone other than Michael, Penry made a couple of excellent saves, and Ciaran proved to be the most graceful player in the water, lunging effortlessly to and fro and never once missing the ball when it came to him. It was quite an unexpected display of athleticism and Michael was impressed. Not as impressed as he was with Ronan’s
skill in the pool, but he had already spent the morning dreaming about Ronan’s aquatic prowess, so nothing he did in person was really that much of a surprise. Except when he pushed Nakano harshly into the net.

Immediately, Mr. Blakeley blew his whistle and yelled “foul” partly so everyone would remember who was in charge and partly to prevent the boys from upgrading their push into a scuffle. For a moment, only the water could be heard splashing into the sides of the pool as Nakano and Ronan stared at each other, no one, including them, sure of what would happen next. “Gentlemen,” Mr. Blakeley said, “shake hands.”

It was hard to tell what Nakano was truly feeling; his eyes were blurred by his goggles, but he stood as if he was ready to pounce. Head tilted slightly forward, fists clenched, his long, lean muscles seemingly on notice. In contrast, Ronan looked calm; he had regained his composure and watched Nakano, waiting for him to make a move. He looked as if he could wait all day. “I said shake hands!” Suddenly, Ronan reached out his right hand, steady and strong. Nakano now had no choice, so begrudgingly he extended his arm and the two boys shook hands. But the whole scene unsettled Michael. He did feel a surge of pride, knowing that Ronan was the first to concede, but there was also a tinge of anxiety. What caused the incident in the first place? And why did Michael have the strong suspicion that it started because of him?

It was clear that something had happened between Nakano and Ronan, but no one could agree on just
what that was. Later on in the locker room while they were changing, Penry whispered to Michael that he thought Nakano hip-checked Roman to throw him off balance, you know, just for fun, and Ronan took it the wrong way. “He can be a bit brash, that one.” But Michael heard two other boys, their heads together, tying their shoes, mumble something about Nakano not knowing when to give up. What did they mean by that? And why did it make Michael feel unsettled? And why was Fritz staring at him?

“Well, Nebraska,” Fritz said, loud enough so everyone in the locker room turned around. “You didn’t suck.”

That was a relief. Maybe Fritz wouldn’t turn into a Mauro after all. “No, Howard, you didn’t. You played rather well, actually.” Michael turned to face Mr. Blakeley. Although he was several years younger than Mr. Alfano, he wasn’t as worked out. Physically, he looked more like a proponent of yoga than of weight lifting. However, their eyes shared the same kindness, the same desire to see their students succeed in and out of the classroom. “You swim as well as you play water polo?”

Hmmm.
“Well, since this is the first time I’ve ever played water polo,” Michael said, feeling more confident with every syllable, “I’d have to say my swimming has got to be much better.”

“Let’s put it to the test. Swim team tryouts are Saturday morning,” Mr. Blakeley advised. “Be there.”

Really?
Michael thought. A teacher was suggesting that he join a sport. How else was his life going to
change?
It’s only going to continue to change if I let it,
Michael thought, so he decided to do something impulsive for the first time in his life. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“I think Blakeley wants you to try out just so he can see you in your Speedo again.” Michael blushed before he turned around. He couldn’t believe Ronan had just said that. “It was quite a sight.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t form one word. He glanced around him to see if anyone else had heard Ronan, and while it looked like they hadn’t, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. “You’re quite a sight yourself,” he mumbled.

“What did you say, Michael?” Ronan teased. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Now Michael laughed, and it felt so good. “If you’re having trouble hearing me, Irishman, I suggest you clean the potatoes out of your ears.”

Ronan’s mouth dropped and Michael thought for a moment that he had insulted him. He knew the Irish were sensitive about their culture and perhaps he shouldn’t joke about it. But then a roar of laughter burst out of Ronan that surprised Michael. What surprised him more was when Ronan reached out and clasped him on the shoulder. Michael discovered in that moment that an unnecessary touch is just as exciting as an unexpected one. Unnecessary or unexpected, both aroused suspicion.

“Looks like Ronan’s made himself a new friend,” Fritz observed.

This wasn’t news to Nakano and he had to control every muscle in his body not to lash out at Fritz for stating
the obvious. “Looks like you’ll need a new date for the festival.” Nakano ignored Fritz’s comment and even the boy entirely and stared at Michael and Ronan. It was a good thing that Nakano had replaced his goggles with dark-tinted glasses because one look into his black eyes and his secret would be revealed. He was consumed with a white-hot rage.

   The second-largest building on campus was St. Martha’s, where all the students had their meals. It was cavernous and consisted mainly of one extremely large dining hall filled with rows of long rectangular tables, each lined with ten chairs apiece. The chairs were upscale folding chairs, cushioned, and made of heavy-duty plastic in a silver color designed to look like metal. They were modern utilitarian and completely out of place with most of the décor in the rest of the school, but they were efficient since their sole purpose was to temporarily house hundreds of hungry boys.

Michael sat across from Ronan, but the distance between them would have been less if Michael were sitting back at the lunchroom in Two W. On the way from gym to lunch, something else happened between Nakano and Ronan, something else that Michael didn’t fully understand but was determined to figure out.

While Penry informed Michael that he and his girlfriend, Imogene, had just this morning decided to date each other exclusively, Nakano and Ronan fell to the back of the crowd. With one ear listening to Penry gush about how Imogene was his first real girlfriend and how
she thought she needed to lose five more pounds, but how Penry thought she was perfect just the way she was, Michael used his other ear to try and pick up Nakano and Ronan’s conversation. Unfortunately, he could only pick up a word or two.
Never, forget it, don’t interfere.
Fortunately, between those words and the stern tone of Ronan’s voice, he knew the conversation was not a pleasant one. By the grave expression Ronan now wore on his face, Michael was convinced it could definitely be categorized as unpleasant.