Ch. 14

I guess I'm good at hiding, just like I was good at not being noticed before. Before Tom noticed me, before I realized I want him, before he kissed me, before I kissed him.

I stayed in the greenhouse sniffling and making work until long after the bell, and long after my bus had left. I snuck out into empty halls and was lucky enough that Ms. Francis was still in the portable so I could grab my coat for the long walk home.

"Is there anything wrong, Justin?" She has her caring look on, the one that makes her a popular teacher because she cares so much.

I bite my lip and consider telling her. I need to tell someone, but spilling to Ms. Francis might cause awkwardness in class, especially since I'm supposed to be a mentor and I don't want to jeopardize my grades.

"No, I was just working in the greenhouse and lost track of time."

"I think you've covered your boot money and the money of half the class."

"I guess."

"You know, it won't always be like this, Justin."

"What do you mean?"

"It won't always be so hard for you. University is a whole other world, and it's somewhere that a person like you can really flourish, find yourself."

"What do you mean 'a person like me'?" I ask, guarded. She knows, I'm sure of it.

Rather than confronting me, she opts for another tact altogether. "I just mean that the things people value change. The people who command the most attention in high school, the ones who have the most don't have the same place in university. You're one of those people who will do well next year."

"If I even have the chance to go."

"Make your chances. You've applied, but there are thousands of dollars in unclaimed scholarships just because people never bother applying. You need to take some time to go to the library and write a solid essay that can be adapted for a bunch of different scholarships."

"What kind of scholarships?"

"There's money for everything, Justin. From being from a single parent family, to grades, to identity, to just writing a decently thoughtful paper. You have the potential to get hundreds of dollars." I leave the identity comment alone, because know I'm totally sure she knows, even if I don't acknowledge it, but truthfully, the idea of more money is really intriguing, and she can see it. "Look, it's not too late to go to the library now. I'll proofread and edit whatever essays you write, and I'll also write you letters of recommendation if needed."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve a break. I offered the same deal to Tom, but he said he doesn't need it."

"No, as long as he stays a ward of the court, his schooling's covered."

"Not an easy task."

"No. It's not. He's really strong." I can feel tears coming again, so I turn to leave, my hand on the knob.

"So are you." Her words trail me out the door. God, I wish she was right.

Money for university isn't a terrible idea. I mean I'm fairly certain I'll qualify for financial aid and probably some form of scholarship from the university itself, but more money from outside sources isn't something I really considered before. There's nothing better than avoiding thinking about Tom by finding something else to occupy my time, and if Ms. Francis is right, I really should be looking at scholarship applications.

A detour to the school library on the way home opens my eyes to a ton of possibilities. The guidance department has links to a bunch of different scholarships on the school website, and honestly, I'm a bit angry that my guidance councillor didn't mention this possibility before. There's at least ten different scholarships I can apply to on the first screen alone. Some of them have forms to fill in, and some require essays, but most are things I can do pretty easily.

After another 20 minutes or so, the librarian flicks the lights signalling that the library will close soon. I print off a few of the essay requirements so that I can work on a rough draft at home, but I'll have to fill out most of the applications here or at the public library because they have to be submitted online and I don't have a computer or the internet. I suppose working here during lunch would also be a great way to avoid Tom.

................................

"Where the hell have you been?" My mom is swaying a bit in the kitchen doorway, a glass of something alcoholic in one hand and a pot of noodles in the other. Her ridiculously high heels are doing nothing for her balance and I have no clue how she can even walk in such a tight skirt.

"I had to do some work in the library after school." Ordinarily she really doesn't care, but I guess today isn't an ordinary evening judging by her outfit. It's only six, since the walk took me almost an hour, but it's not late by any normal standard.

"Well, it would have been nice to know. We have company for dinner tonight," she gestures over to the dining table where Paul is sitting with a beer and suddenly her outfit makes sense.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize." Arguing with her in front of her boyfriend is a great way to be in a lot of trouble—I learned that the hard way, so I'll just be unfailingly polite. "Dinner smells great, Mom." I paste a smile on my face while counting the minutes until I can sneak off to my room.

"It smelled better twenty minutes ago, when it was ready," she grumbles, but begins to dish it out on plates, so I take my seat at the table, averting my gaze from her breasts which are on full display when she leans over to serve the food.

"Hi, Justin. How was school?" Paul questions as I sit down. I've actually never really had a conversation with him or anything, but he seems like a decent guy. He doesn't appear to be as tipsy as my mom and has been with her for at least three months now, so I suppose I can give him a chance.

"School's good, I guess. I stayed later to look into some scholarships," I explain.

"What for?" Paul looks puzzled.

"Well, I really hope to go to university next year."

"Really? I thought you were in grade 11?" Now I know that my mom probably doesn't go bragging about me to her boyfriends, but you'd think she'd at least tell them the correct grade.

"Nope, a senior. This is my last semester. I applied to a few different programs, but mostly I'd like to do some sort of engineering."

"You'd have to have some pretty serious grades for that," Paul scoffs. "Especially if you expect to get handed some cash."

"I have a decent average."

"Yeah, my son's real smart most of the time, good grades, but no common sense at all."

"Well, I guess he can always learn the hard way after coming out four years later in debt with no job," Paul offers with a shrug. "Got a few of those guys on the job with me. They got common sense pretty quick."

"What is it you do?" I ask, trying to remain calm, even though they are both totally seriously pissing me off.

"I am the line manager at Mech Co." Paul states proudly. And to be honest, it's a decent job. If he's a line manager at the automotive factory, he's got to be more responsible than most of the guys my mom brings home. I catch her grin and bat her lashes at him out of the corner of my eye and I know she thinks she hit the jackpot. At least this guy isn't likely to deal drugs or steal from us.

"Wow! That's really great. What section of the plant are you in?" I try to make sure that I sound interested and properly impressed, even though I really don't care. I know my mom does and I don't want to make her angry. Besides, it really is a fantastic job compared to most of the people on our street who usually ask if you want fries with that.

The rest of dinner centres on Paul telling us stories about the plant; stupid things his underlings have done, the problems with some of his bosses, and how much responsibility he has to handle. I make the appropriate comments while my mom oohs and aaahs until the meal is over. Like the good son I am, I do the dishes and then escape to my room while the two of them polish off their drinks and do unmentionable things, loudly, in her bedroom. I just turn the volume up on my mp3 player and put the ear buds in my ear as firmly as possible while reviewing the essay topics for the different scholarships and start to make rough notes.

.....................................

The morning is hard. We are back in our class and doing our work and I keep my eyes down or forward at all times, even though I am more than painfully aware of where Tom is. Every time he shifts in his seat, breathes a little louder, flips his bangs back; every little thing and I feel it. I am tormented and I deserve every ounce of pain it brings. I don't deserve someone as strong, as brave, as determined as him. And I want him, even though I don't deserve him.

Last night I thought long and hard, and I totally understand where Tom is coming from. He gave up everything to be who he is, everything, and has worked hard to be where he is today. So close to graduating, putting up with an insane living situation, all so that he could be true to himself. And here I am, a total coward. Hiding again.

The cafeteria is almost empty by the time we have lunch. The bikes, banners, and jars (which already have some change in them) look really good, but I hardly even notice. Conversations swirl around me, but I don't take part. I just wolf down my food as quickly as possible, then go to the library to start working on my essay. I keep my head down and just work. When it's time to complete the bikes for the class, again, I work quietly by myself. I'm not rude, when people ask me questions, I answer, but I'm not initiating any conversation.

..................................

"Alright, Justin. Enough sulking. What's up your ass?" Kyle confronts me on the bus three days after the fight Tom and I had. Instead of staying after school in the library, I am actually on the bus. Kyle's imposing form crowds the seat, forcing me up against the window.

"Nothing Kyle," I lie, as convincingly as possible, even though there really isn't anything up my ass.

Apparently not as convincing as I thought. "Don't lie to me. I know there's something wrong." He leans in a little closer, "Did you and Tom get into a fight? Because I won't hesitate to hurt him." Kyle punctuates his statement by cracking his knuckles in front of my face.

I push his hands away and blanche at the thought of him hitting Tom. "No, Kyle, don't do that. He didn't do anything wrong."

"Really? Because you two were happy before. Now he's an ass again and you're completely withdrawn." We were happy? Noticeably happy? I really hadn't noticed him being an ass, but I have been spending most of my time trying to be as invisible as possible.

"What do you mean?" Kyle has me on edge. From his tone, I'm pretty sure he's figured out that I'm not exactly choosing dates from the same pool as him, and that scares me. My stomach is churning and I'm totally dizzy, the damp plasticy smell of the seats making me feel even worse.

Kyle rolls his eyes at me, "Seriously, Justin? I'm not an idiot. I've known you forever and I don't care who you date. The two of you made each other happy."

"You mean you're okay with it? Okay with me?" I manage a weak, disbelieving whisper.

"Fuck, why would I mind? It's none of my business other than it's nice to see you happy. I shared a tent with you and you didn't jump me..."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"I know you wouldn't, Justin. I just meant that it's not like I can catch it from you. You were born the way you're born, and if Tom floats your boat than who am I to say that's wrong?"

His words fill me with relief, "I just wish everyone else was the same way."

"What happened with you two?"

"We both want a relationship, but he wants to be more open with it."

"Why would you want to hide it?" His brows furrow, confused.

"He gave up everything when he came out. He's so strong, but I'm not. What if my mom kicks me out or something? What if people beat me up?"

"Maybe you aren't giving people enough credit? I mean did you think I'd want to beat you up?"

"I don't know, maybe?" I shrug, feeling a bit stupid.

"Seriously? You should know me better than that."

"I guess. I just don't know anything right now."

"So basically he doesn't want to be with you unless you're out?"

"Pretty much."

Kyle tilts his head to the side and thinks for a second, "I guess that makes sense. I mean I wouldn't want to date someone who wanted to keep me a secret. I would make me feel like I wasn't good enough for her."

Although Kyle makes a good point, I'm defensive. "But that's not it at all! I mean when it comes right down to it, he's far better than I am."

"Look, we both know that's a load of shit, Justin. You just need to man up. I can't make you come out, and to be fair, if you're not comfortable being out, then that's your business. But you need to do something because the two of you are making the room really tense." The bus has reached Kyle's stop and he stands to leave.

"Just don't say anything, please," I beg. I'm still not ready for my sexual preference to be common knowledge.

"Of course I won't say anything. That's not my place. But something has to happen. You both deserve to be happy."