Simon

Should I or shouldn't I? That's the question I asked myself all day until I got to English class, my last class of the day.

"What's with you?" Claudia, asked me. "You look much better with your glasses on, by the way. You need them, you know."

She didn't have to remind me; I had other things on my mind.

"Can you keep a secret?" I asked. I always trusted her before, so I had no reason to doubt her now...

...except this was a very, very big secret.

"You know I can," she said.

To be extra safe, I wrote my secret down on a piece of paper. It's not something I could say out loud.

Adam Durgin asked me out, I wrote.

WHAT!!! she immediately scribbled back.

Everything Adam said to me led me to believe he asked me out.

Like a date? she wrote back before I got the chance to write anything in response.

Nodding, my cheeks burned. No boy, or girl for that matter, had ever asked me out.

But, of all people...Adam Durgin?

How does he know you're gay? Claudia wrote.

I shrugged.

Is he gay?

I shrugged again.

"Maybe it's a trick," I whispered. "Maybe his friends put him up to it and he's going to do something to me."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," I said.

"I think you should go to find out," she said. "I'll go with you if you want."

Maybe I secretly liked him and never realized it.

At the very end of the school day, I accidentally "bumped" into Adam at his locker.

"I'll be there," I whispered to him. "Visitor's section." Although I didn't turn around, I felt his eyes on me as I headed down the hall.

Because I didn't want to bring any attention to myself by people wondering why I was there at a soccer game, Claudia and I sat in the visitors' section, all the way in the back of the bleachers.

"Hey, Durgin!" Claudia shouted, standing up as the game was about to begin. She pointed to me as I hid my head in my hands in embarrassment. Peeking through my fingers, I noticed him half-wave in our direction.

"He's cute, huh?" Claudia said. "I can see why girls like him. Look at him in those shorts."

Yeah, he looked damn good. Too perfect.

After the game, I waited in the bleachers, insisting that Claudia leave, assuring her that I could handle this situation by myself.

When everyone else was gone, I spotted a blond boy making his way to the bleachers. No longer in his soccer uniform, a gym bag hung from Adam's shoulder.

"Hi," he said shyly.

"Hi," I said.

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I thought you knew."

"I didn't think that far ahead," he said, sitting beside me on the bleachers. "I didn't think you'd come. Usually I get a ride home from Chase's mother, but after I saw you in the bleachers I told him I had a ride. How are you getting home?"

"My legs," I said. "I don't live far. You wanna get some ice-cream?" I passed Erickson's Ice-Cream stand nearly everyday on my way home. "Unless you're embarrassed to be seen with me."

"I'm not embarrassed," he said. "Let's go."

Adam ordered a hot fudge sundae while I ordered peppermint stick.

"I don't know if all that chocolate and sugar is good for your teeth," I said. "What would your coach say if he saw you eat that?"

"I'm starving," he said. "I usually get peppermint stick, too, but I was told I can't have hard candy."

On this seasonal October day, we sat on a picnic bench, the ice cream stand quiet this time of day. Adam's hair flopped over his face as he spooned some hot fudge into his mouth. Unbeknownst to him, one strand of blond hair turned brown, streaked in chocolate. I had to admit he was cute. Adam flinched, blushing, as I reached across the table to comb the chocolate out.

"I guess I don't hate you like I thought I did," I said.

"Why did you hate me?" he asked.

"Because nobody hates you," I said, shrugging.

"That doesn't make sense," he said.

I shrugged again.

"I don't hate you," I concluded.

I found out Adam was the oldest of three boys, but his parents split up five years ago. Because his dad lived in the same town, he saw him often although he wished he didn't. His dad came to most games, missing a couple of weekday ones. One thing I knew was that he hated his dad.

"Is there anything bad about you?" I asked. "You're perfect. You're nice, an amazing soccer player, and you're cute as hell."

"You think I'm cute?" he said, blushing again.

"All girls think you're cute," I pointed out.

"But you're not a girl," he said.

"Ah...you noticed," I said.

"I don't care what girls think of me," he said. "I care what you think."

"You shouldn't care what other people think," I said. I realized my statement was somewhat hypocritical since I didn't wear my glasses because I cared what people thought about me; I liked to think I didn't care.

We ate in silence for a few seconds, the two of us occasionally blushing as our eyes met.

"I won't tell anyone," I finally said. "But how did you know?"

"How did I know what?" he asked.

"That I don't like girls," I said, avoiding the word gay.

"I'm gay, too," he said. "Wow, I never said it out loud before. It feels kinda good. Say it."

"How did you know?" I asked again.

"Say it."

"I'm gay," I said. "There, happy now?"

"Phew," he said. "I'm glad that's out of the way. I see the way you look at some guys. You're cute as hell, too."

Adam walked home with me to call his parents for a ride home.

"Oh my God, what are you doing with Adam Durgin?" my brother, Jason, gasped as if a movie star was in my house. He was only a year younger than I and a freshman in high school. He wanted desperately to be part of the popular clique, but never succeeded. He was only slightly better than me in the social hierarchy. "Better yet, what are you doing with my brother?"

"He asked me to go to his game and I went," I said. "Then we went out for ice cream."

"Why?" Jason asked.

"Because we wanted to," I said.

"I wasn't asking you," Jason said. "What are you doing with this geek?"

Fortunately my dad showed up before I kicked the shit out of my brother.

"Oh, hello, Adam, what are you doing here?" my dad said.

"Um..." Adam was at a loss of words.

"I'm going to help him with his homework," I said.

Adam called his mother, then went with me to my room. Dropping his bag on the floor, he plopped down beside me on my bed while I dumped out my books, not sure which homework to tackle first.

"Every time I hear Weezer, I think of you," Adam said, kicking off his sneakers.

"And that's a good thing?" 

"Yes," he said. "I can be you're Mary Tyler Moore if you want."

I looked at him as if he had three heads, not sure I understood his joke. The way he elbowed me in my ribs made me laugh.

"You're sure no Mary Tyler Moore," I laughed.

"Who is Mary Tyler Moore, anyway?"

"Some old actress from the sixties I think," I said.

"Adam! Your dad's here!" my mother shouted.

"My dad?" he said, scooting off the bed. "Already?"

"So you wanna hang out tomorrow?" he asked, putting his sneakers back on. "I don't have practice."

"Sure," I replied. Why not?

Adam ran down the stairs with me following him. His dad was a big guy, probably an athlete in his day. I wondered if Adam would grow to be as big as him. His dad didn't seem that old, but his hair was all gray unlike my dad who still had a head of naturally dark hair.

"Hi," Adam said nervously. "I thought Mom was coming to pick me up."

"She's busy," he said. "Is this where you're hanging out these days?"

"Hello, Mr. Durgin," my dad said. "The boys were just doing their homework."

"You're at a teacher's house?" Mr. Durgin said.

"This is my son, Simon," my dad said. "They went out for ice-cream and..."

"Let's go," his cut my dad off. The look in Adam's eyes told me he didn't just dislike his dad, but he feared him.

Word count: 1462

Total word count: 3851