Ch 13

The next week passes in a blur. There's a little bit of clandestine touching and a few stolen kisses, but mostly there's frustration and bike construction, with a little bit of greenhouse time for good measure.

"Okay," Mr. Sway calls to us from the corner of the shop class. "I think we have been able to piece together bikes for everyone. How many do we have for the fundraiser?"

"Twelve, Sir." I respond, looking over to the smaller bikes ranging from toddler to ten year old sized.

"Great. Now our bikes can be tweaked over the next few weeks, but the ones for the fundraiser really have to be top notch. The recipients probably won't be able to fix them if anything doesn't work right."

"How about we get some people to volunteer to test them out?" Nicole suggests. "I'm sure we could probably get some of the smaller grade nine kids to do it."

"I'm not sure that's the safest thing to do. Perhaps if we just did a bit of wheeling them around in here. We just have to make sure the chains are tight, bearings are good, and that the frames won't fall apart."

"Either way, we need to get these out to the stage in the caf so that people will start putting money in the jars. Does student council have everything set?" Once again the attention shifts to me.

"I don't know," I shrug.

"Great, you and Tom go meet up with Lauren, and the rest of us will bring the bikes in," Ms. Francis directs, and I try to hide my excitement. Obviously not at meeting with Lauren again, but some alone-ish time with Tom is pretty good.

Tom stands quickly and heads for the shop room door, "Let's go, 95." He's waiting impatiently, tapping his foot. I practically spring to join him, my face reddening when I realize how eager I look.

We walk quietly together out of the tech wing, hands and arms brushing every so often making my heart beat quicker, and Tom takes a turn to the stairwell instead of continuing to the student council office.

"Where are you going?" I ask, following him through the doors. "We have to go the other way."

"You're right, we do, in a minute," he smirks at me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards him. I allow myself to tumble forward into his embrace, his wiry but firm arms wrapping around my lower back. Looking into his eyes, he gives me a sexy grin, "Well, hello, Justin."

"Hello to you, too, Tom." I gently brush a few errant strands of his bangs from his eyes, my fingers trailing across his forehead and along the side of his cheek causing him to shiver with a sharp intake of breath.

My gaze shifts to his lips and he leans closer, bringing them to mine. Once again he has set me on fire, my mouth yielding to his, his tongue darting to meet mine. A noise almost like a whimper escapes from deep inside me and Tom pulls me closer in response, replying with his own stifled moan. I wind my arms around his neck and twist my fingers in his wavy dark hair. We kiss again and then a noise from the hall causes us to pull apart to try to contain ourselves, both of us shifting a little uneasily in our jeans. I pleased that I'm not the only one totally affected.

"We should probably go to student council before someone notices we're missing," I suggest, touching my swollen lips gently, as if I could still feel Tom pressed against them.

"Or, you know, now, before the bell rings and the stairs fill with people staring at us."

I glance at my watch, "Good point." The bell for the end of third period is set to ring any second now, and I don't want to be caught in a compromising position. It's not that I'm embarrassed to be with Tom, but pda makes me nervous, as much as there are people who support the right to love whoever, high school isn't always the most tolerant of anyone who's different.

As we walk towards student council again, all sorts of thoughts are jumping around in my mind. Does Tom want to be my boyfriend? I'm pretty sure he was as...ah...excited as I was from the kissing, so obviously he likes it, but does that mean we're in a relationship? Am I even ready for a relationship? Should I be honest and come out to my mom, or will she freak out? Will it make class weird if Tom and I are dating? Can he even date me, I mean he's got a pretty messed up life already. My mind is spinning so much that I barely notice the hall fill with people when the bell goes.

"....Justin, are you listening?" Tom taps my arm to get my attention.

I shake my head to try and halt my spinning thoughts. "Sorry, Tom, I was totally out of it."

"Look, I know we have things to talk about, but now's not the time. We need to keep it together, 95."

I nod in agreement and we enter the busy and cramped student council office together. Obviously Lauren has gotten her staff busy because there are signs and big jars leaning against the wall.

"Gentlemen!" Lauren bounces over, her skirt flounces, and she takes our arms. "Tommy, Justin! Come look at what we've done!" She drags us the the wall and starts lifting out posters. "See! There's one for each charity and we've gotten these big jars and there's already a few posters in the hall! Does this mean the bikes are ready?"

"Yeah, our class is wheeling them to the stage as we speak," I explain, as Tom tries to extricate his arm from Lauren's grasp.

"Well, let's check them out!" She redoubles her efforts to hold us both, dragging us towards the caf.

"What about the signs?" I ask.

"My staff will get them," she says with a flip of her hair. "I want to check out what you guys did."

Although she doesn't say it, the meaning is clear—Are the losers of the school worth her effort.

Instantly I feel the need to justify what we've done, "They may not look spectacular, but they work and any kid who doesn't have a bike would be really thankful."

"No, 95, you don't need to do that," Tom snaps. "Look, Lauren. We don't have to justify this to you. I don't have a bike and I would love one. We did what we said we would and our class needs the money, unlike most of the people in this building. Do you have a phone Lauren?"

She seems taken aback at Tom's question, "Of course I do. An iPhone, it's kind of old though, like maybe six or seven months."

"Of course, huh? Really old." he sneers. "How many people in our class have phones, 95?"

"I'm not sure, maybe three?" I shrug.

"Exactly. So Lauren, don't you dare judge what you don't understand."

Her confident step falters. "That's not what I meant, honestly, Tommy. I get it," her super earnest voice returns and she tries to pat us reassuringly. "I just thought that maybe student council could help by getting reflectors, locks, horns and helmets to go with the bikes. We took up a collection at last week's meeting and council got two hundred and thirty dollars."

"Oh, that's a great idea." It really is. "I know if I had a lock for my bike, I'd still have a bike."

Opening the doors to the caf, Mr. Sway is up on the stage organizing the placement of the bikes, with Carson, Jose, and Faith wheeling a few of them into different positions.

Lauren goes into full on politician mode as she drops our arms and struts towards the front of the room, "Wow, guys, these are really fantastic!" She pulls out her phone and takes a few pictures. "I'm going to get accessories for these tonight, so I need to make sure I have the colours right."

"Accessories?" Jose asks.

"Uh, yeah," I explain. "Student council is getting locks and helmets and stuff."

"Cool, but you know, maybe a gift card for a helmet would be better? I mean not all kids have the same size heads," Jose suggests.

"No. We want this to be a complete package. Besides students will donate more the nicer the things look," Lauren points out.

"Whatever. We just need the cash and kids need bikes," Carson steps in, diffusing any further problems.

Lauren takes a few more pictures, then gets distracted by her other duties when her team comes in with the banners, jars, tape, and streamers.

"I think this is our cue to leave, 95," Tom whispers into my ear, making me shiver and my face colour.

"Where to?" I ask, hopeful.

"Back to class, of course," he says with a smirk.

"Oh," I respond, deflated.

"It doesn't mean we can't make a stop along the way," Tom says, beckoning me to follow him. So I do.

A few minutes later we enter the warmth of the damp greenhouse. The freshly green plants are growing well and will be ready for sale in a few more weeks, although shouldn't be planted outside for at least another month or so. He and I work together for a few minutes, watering the soil and staking a few of the larger tomato plants. Standing side by side, we support some of the heavier branches with wire baskets and twist ties.

Stealing a glance at him, I can't help but want to talk. "Umm, Tom?"

"Yes?"

Apparently want and ability are two different things, "Are you...uhhh, I mean, uhhh....are we...."

"Out with it already!"

"Areyoumyboyfriend?" The words bubble up out of me, uncontrolled, and seem to stick to the windows like drops of condensation, hanging, then trailing down leaving a streak in their wake. God I want him to say yes.

He turns and faces me, his eyes flashing. "What does that word mean to you? Because if it means we sneak off and kiss, then I suppose we are," my heart pounds with excitement at his words only to plummet precipitously with the next. "If it means we're out and open with our relationship, then I guess not."

"But I want that. I want us to hold hands and kiss, go on dates and be together." I know the longing is evident in my voice, I can can hear the desperation slipping in.

"Really? Because how many people have you told that you're gay?" It's the same argument as before and I know it's a battle I can't win.

"Well...it's not that easy," I try to defend myself. I know I'm a coward.

"Easy?" he spits out in anger.

"Why is it so important to you? Do I have to wear a rainbow flag on my shirt? Why does my sexuality have to be on display?" I argue.

"You're the one who wants to walk around holding hands."

"You know what I mean." The tears are there, hiding in the corner of my eyes, waiting.

"It doesn't have to be on display, but I won't be your dirty little secret. I am proud of who I am, Justin. I gave up my family, my home, my life as I knew it because I couldn't live a lie. Hell, I could have told my parents that they convinced me to be straight, but I took the beatings and bear the scars because I am not afraid of who I am. My parents are convinced I am going to burn in hell for my sins. I am not going to risk eternal damnation for someone who's not willing to risk it, too." I can see his disappointment in me and the courage of his convictions in him. It's one of the things I most admire about Tom, and yet, here I am, asking him to compromise himself, and I hate myself for it.

"But what if I'm not ready to...to lose everything?"

"Then I guess you're just not ready to be my boyfriend, because you wouldn't be losing everything." His words strike me deep and I wince. He's so totally right and I am so completely ashamed. The tears can't be held back and they flow down my face.

"Tom..."

"No, Justin. I can't lie, I like you. I want you. But I won't go back into the closet for you. Being true to myself is far too important, and I want a relationship like that, out in the open."

"But..."

"No, there are no buts here. I can't do this." It's like a wall, his wall, is very firmly up and I am back on the outside, locked far away from where I want to be.

With a whoosh of cold air, and a click of the door Tom leaves the greenhouse, leaves me crumpled and discarded hiding in the plants. Hiding.