Ch. 18

 Starting school in grade nine after being away for a year is really hard, and it doesn't help that all my clothes are European. People there just seem to dress a lot nicer than they do here, or less casual or something. T-shirts aren't very common, and jeans are something that are only worn by the people who are doing it ironically or something. Mommy didn't want me to look too foreign when we were away, so any time I needed something new, I moved one step away from the real Grace and another step towards Mom's choice to remake my image after the famous boarding schools. I have enough blouses and pleated skirts to clothe the world.

"Look Chris, here comes our little lawyer." Ian belittles me as I walk up to the bus. It seems that any gains I made with Ian the other day are lost. I am wearing the most normal clothes I own, but they still aren't casual enough to fit in. All I want is one decent pair of jeans, but I don't have a single pair. Mom was brutal about clothes in Europe, I was her blank canvas which she threw clothes at, and if it was possible I was more lost than ever.

"Good God, Ian, she looks great and you know it. I'm sorry that you can't see Grace is the same under her fancy outfits, but it's not her fault that she doesn't have anything else to wear," Chris defends me, actually putting air quotes around fancy.

"Yeah, I wish I had a pair of jeans, but my mom wouldn't get me any and my dad was always too busy to care about my clothes," I explain.

"Oh, that's right, poor little girl dragged off to Europe comes back all worldly and fancy." his tone is cruel and cutting.

"Ian, I don't know what I did to you to make you hate me, but you seem to make me want to hate you back. You can push me away right now, as much as it hurts, but I'll always be your friend. So stop being an asshole." Standing up to him is easier since I have Chris to back me up.

"Fine, I'll just leave you two here to form a mutual admiration society. I, for one, am done." Ian puts his earbuds in and turns away. If he could stalk off, he would, but he would miss the bus, so his grand attempt to illustrate how angry he is falls flat and Chris and I laugh at him.

"Honestly, he's like the definition of teen angst at the moment, all moody and dickish," Chris informs me, "but the girls love it—tall, dark, handsome and lamenting. All Heathcliff-like."

"You know, I've been to the moors, they aren't romantic at all, just damp and gloomy. And Heathcliff was a freak who lusted after his childhood friend until it destroyed them all."

"Exactly," Chris says, giving me a knowing look.

His hint at Ian's behaviour towards me makes my heart beat faster, "Whatever, Chris, stop being a goof."

The bus comes and we all get on, Ian pointedly ignoring us.

"Chris, I'm really nervous. I know my clothes suck unless I'm looking for a job as a teenage accountant or something and I'm not going to fit in. What if everyone treats me like Ian does?"

"Don't worry, Gracie, I'll make sure they don't. I know who you are."

The first day of high school isn't quite as terrible as I'd been dreading, only partly. I know a few kids, at least one or two in each of my classes, and I eat lunch with Chris. True to his new persona, Ian slips outside to hang out at the edge of the parking lot with a group of brooding smokers, their anger proudly on display with their dark clothes and antagonistic stances. A few girls seem to latch on to his every words, giggling and touching his arm.

"Stare much?" Chris says pointedly. My face goes red.

"It's just that he's so different. I don't get it."

"Is he really all that different? He's always been moody and he's always had a hard time dealing with his emotions, just not around you."

"Yeah, but why so different with me now? I mean I know I was away, but it wasn't my fault. I wrote and kept in touch, but he just doesn't seem to even like me any more."

"Grace I think he likes you, I think he likes you too much and it scares him. You grew up while you were away, I mean little changes happen all the time, but a year's worth is a lot to process all at once," Chris explains.

I'm self-conscious about my figure and I cross my arms, "I can't help it. Besides, it's not like you guys haven't changed too, all abs and muscles and deep voices, give me a break, that's life."

"I know Grace." Chris says with a shrug.

"How come you aren't having the same problem?"

"Because you're a girl and you're Grace and it's as simple as that." I reach across and give him a hug for saying exactly the right thing.

We have a diagnostic test in a few of my classes, just so the teachers can gauge where we are, and after one of them, my English teacher calls me forward.

"Grace, where were you last year?"

"My Dad's a prof and he was on sabbatical so we were in Europe. He is writing a book about literature and comparing regional influences."

"I see, and who did your schooling?"

"Well mostly my mom. She has a degree in English lit with a minor in art history."

"And you've read..."

"Well, pretty much all the classics; Hardy, Bronte, Austen, Dickens, Scott, Shakespeare, Dumas, Homer, Tolstoy, umm, a bunch more. I had to read and write reports on books from most of the areas we visited. Is there a problem?"

"Not a problem so much, but I don't think this is the class for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you familiar with the course syllabus?"

"Yes"

"And have you read and written reports on all the books already?"

"Most of them...I'm a little light on contemporary authors, but I don't think they'll be much of a challenge."

"Neither do I. Based on the essay you wrote, I think you should easily be in the grade ten class, rather than this one. I'll arrange an appointment with guidance right away."

"Oh, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, but I do think you'll be a little more challenged at least one level ahead. As much as I'll miss having your input in my class, I think that the grade ten class might be a better fit."

And that's how I end up in the twins' English class.

Thankfully Chris has an empty seat next to him and I slide right in. Everyone else is just staring at me.

"How did you end up here?"

"Too much English last year. I wasn't 'challenged enough' apparently, so they decided to make me a bigger freak." I know I sound bitter, but aside from Chris, no one has really talked to me. They haven't been mean, but I know I don't fit in. When I saw Melody in the hall, she nodded hello, then giggled at my outfit after I passed.

"How are the rest of your classes?"

"I didn't do much other than the humanities last year, so I'm good for history, geography, French, and English, but I am so totally screwed for math. Science, I think I can pick up on, but I haven't done any math at all in over a year."

"I'm not sure if you know this, but English isn't really my strength. How about we do a deal? I'll help with math if you help with English?"

"God, Chris, you're a lifesaver!"

After school, the two of us fall into a rhythm. I do homework with Chris in his room, actually Maggie's old room, but since she got a job off campus and an apartment with her boyfriend, she only ever comes to visit for short periods of time. We sit on the double bed sprawled out or at the desk and work for an hour or so every night.

"Why aren't you doing any extra-curriculars?" I ask one October evening.

"Why aren't you?" he turns the question back on me.

"It's hard, Chris, I spent an entire year being anti-social. Jumping right into something with a lot of people is hard for me. Besides, I still look like a freak—librarian wannabe was I think what Ian said."

"I can fix one of those problems for you." Chris gets off the bed and digs around in his cluttered closet. It's funny, now that he doesn't share a room any more, I realize he's a total slob.

"But you still haven't answered my question, Chris."

"I just don't want to make anyone uncomfortable." It's an odd answer, but I am pretty sure I understand his reason. I just didn't realize he knew.

He drops a garbage bag on the bed by my feet. "Some of this might be terribly out of fashion, but it was all Maggie's and now it's yours."

I dive into the bag and find clothes, lots of normal clothes. Sweatshirts, jeans, t-shirts, a whole pile of stuff! "Oh, Chris, thank God for you. I love you," I give him a big hug and plant a kiss on his forehead. He shifts away from me, obviously upset.

"Grace, I love you, too, but I can't be what you want."

"What do you think I want?" I am totally confused.

"A boyfriend?" he guesses, I do want one, someday, but never Chris.

"Why do I need a boyfriend, I have you?" I try to lighten the mood.

"But Grace, I..." he's visibly distressed, nervous energy rolling off him like thunder, and I think I understand what he's getting at. But I already know, and it feels like I've always known.

I take a stab at what's on his mind, "You're gay? I know Chris, and I love you no matter what."

"How did you know? I mean I just figured it out for myself, really. Well over the summer, anyway."

"I don't know, Chris, but I bet Maggie and Ian know, too. Have you told them?"

"Not yet."

"How did you realize you were gay?"

"You mean aside from the fact I think guys are hot?" he says with a huge grin. "Well, the most gorgeous girl I know, who I love desperately, is on my bed and the most I ever I want to do is cuddle."

I look around, feigning ignorance, "You mean someone else is here with us? Where, where?" I lift up a pillow and search underneath.

"You idiot," Chris laughs.

"You love it." I lay back down next to him, facing him.

"Yep," then Chris is quiet for a minute. Softly, "I kissed the most wonderful boy this summer."

"Where?"

"On the lips, where do you think?" Chris jokes, then continues, breathy, "It was like everything aligned in that one moment, the stars, the sun, just everything."

"What happened?"

"Camp ended, we came home."

"But what about....his name?"

"Miles," he gets a sweet grin on his face.

"What about Miles?"

"He lives a few hours away, we can email and text, but I'm not sure that we'll see each other any time soon."

"Hmmm, I'm happy for you, Chris, and jealous, too. I've never kissed anyone other than Ian and you."

"Man, I feel sorry for you about that one." He grins at me then asks, "What no European romances, hot and steamy on the continent?"

"Chris, I've just turned 14 and spent the entirety of last year hanging around with my parents. What do you think?" I curl up next to him.

Things are uneventful for some time again. The twins' birthday passes without too much fanfare; Chris and I went out for dinner together, and Ian went to a party at one of his stoner friends' houses. He has had a whole slew of different hook-ups according to gossip, and judging by the parade of girls in and out of their house, I know it's not all lies. I slide a birthday card under his door and just leave it at that, because aside from rolling his eyes whenever I add anything to the discussion in English, he leaves me alone. Sometimes I catch him looking at me in class, and I try to smile at him, but when he realizes he's been caught, he gives me a dirty look then turns away.

It's two weeks until Christmas Break and I am sitting at my desk, reviewing my geography notes when I hear stamping up the stairs. Thankfully my mom isn't home because she got her job back at the library. I recognize the sound and am not surprised to see Chris appear.

"Fuck," Chris tells me. He is sweating, shaking, and breathing hard, standing in the door to my room, "That didn't go well."

"What happened?" I am assuming he came out to Ian, because that's the only thing I can think would make him that upset, but I can't imagine why Ian wouldn't already know.

"He's furious with me." Chris hangs his head, looking defeated.

"But why? Why does it even bother him? You'd think he'd be happy for you." Ian is so totally confusing, it's like he broke while I was away and got put back together all wrong.

"I don't know, but he told me he doesn't want me to tell anyone else." Chris starts to cry, and that isn't something I've seen very often. Ian and I are criers, we always have been, Chris isn't like that.

"That's it! Where is he?" I stand and hand him a box of tissues.

"Grace, you can't." Chris' voice is full of anguish.

"The hell I can't. If he wants to be a total idiot and destroy his life, there's not much we can do about it, but I sure as hell won't sit and watch him try to destroy your happiness." I am livid and fuming around the room, kicking at my laundry pile spreading it around the carpet.

"He's in the treehouse." Chris mumbles, knowing I am not going to let this drop, and I take off like a shot.

"What is wrong with you!" I screech at Ian, as he sits lazily rolling a joint, his fingers cramped in the process, but the rest of him lolling about. "Seriously, what's your problem?"

"Screw off Grace, I don't need a lecture from you." Ian leans back, dismissing me by closing his eyes, and rests against a ratty old cushion that he dragged out of the basement.

"Well, you need one from someone." I stand above him, still short enough that I don't need to stoop down in the centre of the space, even though the boys have had to since they were twelve. "You know Chris is gay, just like I know, I've always known. Why make him feel ashamed?"

"Oh, look at you, little miss intuitive, you've always known. What a lot of bullshit." He sneers at me and licks the paper to seal it.

"Honestly, I have always known, I don't know how, I just did. What's your problem with this? Chris is your brother, shouldn't you be happy for him?" I kick at his leg, it seems that physical violence is the only thing he responds to these days.

"Ow, don't be such a bitch. Look at me, Grace. Seriously, what do you see?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Ian. I see you, I see you self destructing, destroying yourself piece by piece and I don't understand."

"You haven't been here, so how would you know? You've been flitting about Europe, leaving us behind."

"I missed you, Ian, desperately, and I missed Chris, too, the whole time I was gone. I needed you. I spent the year being homeschooled by my mom. How much fucking fun do you think I was having?" I can see Ian blanche; since I've been home it's become obvious again just how much my parents don't care, and maybe he forgot that fact. "I love you both and it kills me seeing you like this."

"Well, it kills me too, because when people look at me they see one of two things. For people who really know me, like you, they see a serious fuck up and that's all they see, and for people who don't know me, they see Chris and they see a faggot." I flinch when he uses that ugly, destructive word.

"Ian, I don't..."

"No, let me explain," he cuts me off. "How many fucking fights do you think I've gotten in because they think I'm him? This is a small town and no one can tell us apart. It's no secret that he's gay even though he hasn't told people, they suspect, and so I get into a lot of fights."

"I can tell you apart, people who really know you two can tell you apart, and we don't care that Chris is gay. It's not your fight, Ian. Those people who can't tell are biggots, narrow minded, close minded idiots. Assholes, the lot of them. Chris hasn't suddenly changed."

"Yeah, but those people are our classmates and our neighbours. I can't have them picking on Chris simply because he like guys. Hell, there's nothing wrong with him, he was born this way and I know that. But I can't let people hurt him, just like I couldn't have Kyle picking on you because of a stupid fucking swing. I don't want to fight but I have to. Chris won't fight, so if Chris tells people he's gay, then I'll be fighting more, not less."

"So you're okay with him being gay, just not with everyone else's small-mindedness?"

"Of course I'm fine with him being gay, hell, I saw him and Miles this summer, the way they looked at each other, it was poetry; Chris was more alive than I've seen him. He just needs to realize that when he's outing himself, I get dragged out with him. If we were fraternal twins, it wouldn't matter, but we aren't."

"You know about Miles?" I'm surprised, especially since Chris thought it was a secret.

"Not the particulars, no, but of his existence, yes. I mean, I'm just going on observation, Chris never said anything to me, but if you know about him it must be true."

The fight goes out of him, and it's the longest conversation the two of us have had in almost two years. I know Ian like the back of my hand, or at least I used to, so I sit next to him and I reach out and hug him. He hugs me back and I can feel the tension in his shoulders draining away as I rub his back. I know Ian is trying not to cry, and I am sure he knows that I am fighting the same battle. Holding him again just feel so nice.

"Grace," he says softly.

"Yes?"

"I wish everything doesn't have to change all the time. Why can't it just be like this?"

"I don't know Ian."

"Me neither."

We hold each other for a little while longer, but I know I have to leave. After a minute or two, Ian shifts uncomfortably, so I leave quietly. I know the past is gone and the future is still far away.