rock (12 page)

goodletite

Jace avoids me for two weeks. He shuts himself in his room like Annie used to. He doesn’t participate in dinners, and I don’t see him around at school—except once, when he had an arm around Susan.

He needs some time to cool off. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.

Why doesn’t he come already?

The night of the dance arrives, and before Bert and Ernie arrive, I slip a folded note under Jace’s door. I linger, crouched in the hallway, hand pressed to the wood for a few moments until I hear the sound of footsteps and rustling paper. I’m about to turn away when the door creaks as if Jace is resting against it. I lean forward, my head against the cool door too. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Sniff. I’m not certain but I think I hear a murmur. “Me too.”

“Jace, I—” The doorbell chimes, ripping me out of the moment. “Dammit.”

I curse Bert and Ernie for their punctuality as I go downstairs to let them in. We move to the kitchen and I pull out three Cokes. Annie is pinning pearls to her hair. She swishes her poufy skirt and tells us to have fun. She prances off.

Bert attempts to whistle. “Damn, I thought I had it.” He frowns and tries again but he gives up when he fails the second time. “Your sister looks hot,” he says simply. Ernie doesn’t say anything but his eyes had followed her too.

“Gah!” I cover my ears. Not something I want to hear.

Ernie drops a large paper bag onto the dining table as he claps Bert on the back. “Yeah, let’s give up the wolf-whistling.” He jerks his head to me. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

Ernie and Bert wear matching black tuxedos sans tie, and shirts with wide fat collars. And they think I’m not ready? My black pants and white shirt will do very well.

“I am dressed.” I set the Cokes on the table. “Drink?”

Bert looks at Ernie. “Guess you were right about him not being that type of gay.”

“What?” I start, and Ernie hushes me.

“Don’t worry, I’m not that type of straight guy, either. I picked something out for you. Put it on.” He slides the paper bag to me. I steady a can before it knocks over. “Should be your size. Five-ten, right?”

I peer into the bag and groan. “We’re gonna look like the Three Musketeers.”

“The Three Best-Dressed Musketeers,” Ernie says.

“It has a weird collar,” I say, pulling out the shirt.

“Wait for it,” Bert warns me, rolling his eyes.

Ernie asks, “Who are we at school?” I shrug. “That’s right. We’re nobody. And what makes us stand out from the crowd?”

“Not much?”

“Exactly. Doesn’t matter how sleek our suits are because every other guy will look sleek too,” he says, gesturing for me to hurry up. I pull off my shirt and slip into the fat-collared one. “To stand out, we have to do the unexpected.”

“And these shirts are the way to go?”

“Hey, dude, you said it. Three Musketeers. Girls dig that shit.”

I laugh. I may be gay but I’m pretty sure girls won’t dig this shirt.

I wear it anyway. For laughs, and to keep Ernie placated. The rest of the suit feels smooth and silky. I find the goodletite I had in my other pocket and slip it inside the jacket’s inner pocket. It creates a slight bulge at my chest but it’s calming. I have a rare stone made of sapphire, ruby, and tourmaline; I’ll be fine. Whispers can’t hurt me.

A wolf-whistle slices cleanly through the air. All three of us look up as Lila waltzes into the kitchen with an amused smile and a camera.
Click. Click.
“Looking great, boys.”

Ernie puts an arm around me, and Bert poses for the camera.

“At least one of you looks excited,” Lila says.

To make things just a little better for her if I can, I join in with the posing.

She flips through some of the shots she’s taken. “Your dad’s going to piss himself when he sees these. Now boys, the embarrassing part. You’re too young to have sex, so don’t. And make sure your condoms aren’t expired. Trust me, that would not lead to a good time. Now to find that son of mine.”

She whisks out of the room and leaves us blushing.

“Dude,” Bert whispers. “Lila is way thoughtful.”

“And way hot!” Ernie adds. I throw him a look that makes him shirk behind Bert.

And way sick.

My chest suddenly feels tight. Jace is sniffing again.

We arrive at the dance an hour into it, which is great because the whole evening will be over and done with much faster.

It’s everything I expect a dance to be: dark, flashing lights, terrible music. A group of couples dance in the middle of the converted gym but the majority of us are hanging in the corners or sitting at the tables. A few guys narrow their eyes in my direction and I sense their whispers in the air, but Ernie and Bert shield me.

A group of young girls snigger at us, and Ernie shakes his head. “They wouldn’t be able to handle all this anyway.”

Bert pulls out a flask he’s smuggled in and hands it to his friend. A good swig later, it’s passed to me. “Nah, I’m good.” I lean against the back wall. “So this is it?”

“This is
it
!” Ernie repeats. “Do you see how short their skirts are? How full their racks?”

Bert sighs. “We’re never getting laid.”

“I repeat. This is it? Question mark.”

“All this and dancing as well.”

A fast, upbeat song launches an outbreak of grinding thighs and bumping hips. I’ve been scouring all the faces since I got here for any sign of Jace. Jace and
Susan
.

“Aaaaand,” Ernie says, squaring his chest and facing me. “This dance is going to be epic.” He bows slightly and extends a hand. “Cooper, will you dance with me?”

I snort and fold my arms. What is he doing? Is this some kind of joke? “That’s not funny.”

Ernie keeps his hand extended. “I’m not joking.”

I shake my head. “We can’t do that here.”

“Why not?” He drops his hand and turns to Bert. “Hey, want to show him how it’s done?”

Ernie leads Bert to the dance floor, and Bert twirls Ernie around. Ernie scowls and tries to spin Bert but Bert’s too tall for him. They laugh and boogie some more. They’re touching—at one point they’re even grinding—and they don’t care that people are staring. A few jerks mutter “fag,” and a few guys in the corner stick a finger down their throat but more people are smiling than anything—

Jace.

Dancing with Susan, arms looped around her waist. His suit makes him appear older, like he’s a future Jace. He’s everything I imagined he’d be—and more.

Susan runs her hand up the back of his hair, and I push off the wall, glaring at her through the throngs of dancers. I might have been able to handle it. Might have been able to shrug it off.

Except that Jace smiles at her and whispers something in her ear.

My throat tightens and a strange buzz fills me with energy. I weave to Ernie and Bert, who stop dancing when they notice my clenched fists.

“You okay, man?” Bert asks, puffing out his chest. “Someone bothering you?”

“I just—” Want to go home? Was that it? “—will you dance with me?”

Ernie breaks away from Bert. “Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange when Ernie takes my hands and pulls me close. Awkward, and his aftershave overpowers me. But we manage something akin to dancing, and halfway through the second song, I relax as our laughter drowns out the whispers. So long as I don’t look across the room to Jace, I’m fine.

I find my sister across the hall, watching us. Her head is cocked slightly and a mesmerized smile makes her face glow.

“Me too, me too,” Bert says, butting Ernie out the way and grabbing my hips. “All the girls are looking. Share the love.”

Bert is taller than me but not by much. I’m spin him around per Ernie’s request.

“Fag!” some bastard says at the sidelines. I flip him the bird.

When Class A bastard says it again, Bert balls his fists and storms toward him. I grab Bert’s shirt. “Just leave it. Probably a closet case himself.” My words shut the dumbass up.

I smile.
See? I can stand up for who I am.

I whirl around at the tap on my shoulder, ready to block a punch if I have to.

“Jace!” I search the crowds for Susan. “But I thought—”

“Can I cut in?” He says to Bert, who backs off with a grin.

The mirrored ball reflects squares of light onto Jace’s face. I try to nudge a small smile from him, but he’s not biting. Something lurks behind the depths of his eyes. I glance at our shiny black shoes.

He touches my forearm.

I glance up. “What will Susan think?”

He looks at Susan, who’s sitting on a bench chatting with Darren and my sister. “It’s fine.”

His hand slides up my arm to my shoulder, and he steps closer. We’re almost the same height. “I got your note.”

The last of my jealousy bleeds away, replaced by a pulsing ache. “I am, okay? Always there.”

“She’s going to fight it. She will.” His voice is stern, determined, as if he’s convincing himself. “Now, just . . . dance with me?”

I swallow and fumble for a loose hold on his hips. His fingers press into my shoulder blades as he draws me nearer. Our auras hum, and our lengths are but an inch apart. His cheek brushes mine for a tender moment. “I’m sorry for shutting you out.”

We sway slowly to the beat, but everyone else is jumping and swinging wildly.

A tear falls onto my neck and rolls under my collar.

I slide my arms around his waist and squeeze. “I’m here. I’ll be here for whatever you need.”

Another tear follows the same path. With every inch, my pain deepens. I don’t know what else I can say. Don’t know what else I can do.

So I say nothing. Do nothing.

Just feel the stone against my heart and pray everything will turn out okay.

And dance.

opal

Dad fumbles with his key, trying to open the damn door. Jace has an arm wrapped around his mum. The air is tense, pensive, as it always is after coming home from one of her treatments. The key sliding into the lock sounds like cymbals battering together. Then the key gets stuck, and Dad jiggles.

I rest a hand over my dad’s trembling one, and take over. Lila burps softly as I push open the door. She makes it over the threshold before retching. A pained and embarrassed groan warbles her “Sorry.”

Dad and Jace stroke her back as another spasm takes hold of her. Annie pales. “I’ll . . . make some tea.” She hurries away.

The acidic scent fills the entranceway and follows me to the cleaning supplies, where I grab a mop and then fill a bucket of soapy water.

When I come back to clean up, Jace grabs the bucket and mop. Twisting his back as if to curtain his mum from me, he cleans up. I back away. I feel so . . . so stupid. Useless.

I race upstairs and make sure she has a bucket by the bed and some water. Dad carries Lila to the bathroom first, and then settles her in under the covers. Jace stands with me at the door; his body is strung tight and he shifts from foot to foot, then pushes his fingers into his pockets. Pulls them out again.

Lila chuckles softly. “Knock-knock,” she says, looking at Jace and me.

Jace frowns. “Who’s there?”

“Cancer.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with quick swallows. “Cancer who?”

“Cancer see I need some sleep?”

Jace blinks rapidly, twists, and darts out of the room.

Lila swears, tries to call after him, but he isn’t coming back. “Too much, then,” she says.

Dad kisses her thinning hair. “He’ll be all right. You rest now, beautiful.”

She leans back against the pillows. “Just for a bit. Then I’ll talk with him.”

I awkwardly wish her a good sleep. I’m itching to find Jace, and race downstairs where Annie points out the kitchen window. I slip out the opened patio door, catching Jace in the back garden at the exact spot I bloodied his nose all those years ago. His shoulders spasm with a silent cry and then he hiccups. I fold him into a hug, and he clutches me so tight that I taste his fear. He sniffs against my neck and whimpers. “Don’t let go.”

* * *

A month later, Jace is at his piano, pounding out sharp, violent pieces, surging his anger into the instrument. Waiting. Waiting for Lila to come home.

The music snatches my breath, all the way from the kitchen where I sit with Annie, staring into my empty cup.

Annie lifts the teapot to pour me some more when the familiar sound of the door opening stops her. We edge out to the arched doorway, pausing there as Dad steps inside with Lila. They are both smiling today.

“Jace!” Dad yells, and the music stops abruptly. Seconds later, the stairs are groaning under his impatient gait.

Lila beckons us nearer and we flock to her.

“Things are looking good for surgery soon,” Dad says, and kisses Lila’s cheek with a smack. “We’re positive about the progress. So are the doctors.”

Jace steals closer and wraps his mum into a hug. Annie and I join in until we are one big lump of warm wishes. Jace twists his head and captures my gaze; the tension he’s held over the last months is still there, but a hopeful smile brackets one side of his lips.

“I made some tea,” Annie says as we break apart.

“That would be lovely.” Lila and Dad follow her to the dining room.

“Cooper and I are going out for an hour,” Jace calls to them. “Do you need anything?”

They don’t.

Jace quietly gestures to follow him to the hatchback. Ten minutes later, we are strolling on the beach, enjoying the cool sand, beautiful seashells, crashing waves, shrieking seagulls, and the distant scent of fish and chips. Shells poke into my soles, assaulting me with sharp pangs that remind me I am not dreaming.

Jace picks up a beautiful paua shell. It shines as though the seas have been polishing it for decades, and the inside swirls with dazzling greens and blues.

“These are my favorite shells,” he says.

He passes it to me and I take it.

“What’s your favorite stone, Cooper?”

I laugh. “That’s like a parent choosing a favorite kid or something.”

“But what do you consider special? Diamond, maybe?”

“Diamond is the strongest, and I do like it. It’s pretty much a stone of optimism. No matter how you turn it, the light is always there.”

The shoes dangling from Jace’s shoulder start to slip, but I catch them before they hit the sand. “However,” I whisper, setting his shoes back on his firm shoulders, “my favorite stone is opal.”

Found in Australia where an enormous inland ocean used to be, opal is literally like touching a prehistoric ocean. As the ocean dried out, water seeped into the earth’s cracks weathering sandstone and making a silica-rich environment for my favorite stone to form.

“I know it’s an Aussie stone,” I say, grinning, “but don’t hate me. I really like them.”

Jace scowls. “Traitor.”

“And
greenstones,” I add hurriedly before I’m revoked of my Kiwi status. “Of course.”

He laughs and strokes his hook. “Next you’ll be telling me your favorite animal is the Koala.”

“Well . . .”

He shakes his head.

We continue the length of the beach. At the end, we dip out toes into the water. “Thanks,” he says over a crashing wave. “For the walk. It helps. You help.”

“Anytime.”