Vintage: A Ghost Story (20 page)

Josh’s face, meanwhile, had grown ruddy with anger, he gritted his teeth. He moved his athletic build swiftly, it took only seconds for him to cross the room. He lifted both hands up and pushed Colin hard against the wall, grinning at the thump the boy made when he hit the wood paneling.

Roddy grabbed his arm. “Are you nuts?”
I came up behind Josh. “Stop this. He only cares about you.” But Josh ignored me. He stared into Roddy’s face. “Why are you

with this guy?” Josh shrugged off Roddy’s grip.
“Not here, Josh,” Roddy said in a low voice and motioned with
his head at the rest of the party.
The music played on but the room grew still. Everyone had
stopped and turned to stare at them. Even I could feel the many accusing eyes.
Josh’s answer was a fist to Colin’s stomach, one quick blow that
left him hunched over and falling to his knees. “You should be with
me,” Josh yelled.
The other guys standing around grabbed Josh and pulled him
back. Roddy bent down to help Colin stand up. The boy seemed ready
to cry.
Josh sneered. “He’s not a man.”
“And you’re acting like one?”
“But I love you.”
Roddy looked visibly struck by the words. “Josh, no.” “Don’t say that. You love me, not him.” The arms that held
Josh dropped away. “We should be together. I hate seeing you with
him.”
Roddy’s face fell. Colin still had one arm around him and glared
at Josh.
I wanted to avert my eyes, feeling so bad for not only Roddy but
also poor Josh. I didn’t think he had any idea what he was doing. His
rashness, his shortsightedness, would not only end his own life, but,
from what Malvern suggested, almost ruined Roddy’s. The faces of the teens around us were blank. The stares were a
thousand times worse than before. One or two had their mouth open
in shock. Arlene chewed her gum and giggled again.
“Fuck you, Arlene.”
“I doubt it, Wyle. Now we know why you never have.” I winced. The others started laughing. Josh looked as if he had
been the one punched in the gut. He pushed them aside and ran out.
Out of the house and into the cool night air.
I drifted after him. On the street Josh passed Roddy’s ’51 creamcolored Chevy, a beautiful piece of machinery that I instantly wished
I could take a ride in. That was a car any romantic would want to
make out in.
Josh kicked in the right headlight. Bits of broken glass fell, Shards
passed through my intangible legs onto the street.
He started running down the block. I called out to him, but he
would not stop.
I knew where he was headed. I caught up to him on Rt 47. Josh kept his head down, hands in the pockets of his letter sweater.
“By tomorrow, the whole town will know I’m a faggot.” “That’s not the end of the world.” I said without thinking. But it
was for him; the irony wasn’t lost on me. I had run away too. Now,
though, I wondered what would have happened had I stayed? I doubted
the whole town would have cared that one kid was gay. “Tell that to my parents, my friends. They’re all gone.” An engine’s purr came from behind us. Josh turned around. A
single, glowing white light quickly approached. Roddy’s car. The car slowed down once its light caught Josh. It pulled up
alongside. The passenger window slowly rolled down as Roddy
coasted beside Josh. He leaned over, still gripping the wheel. “Josh,
get in the car.”
“Listen to him,” I said.
“Leave me alone,” Josh muttered.
“You don’t really want that,” I said. “Trust me.”
“Please, Josh. I want to… I need to talk to you.”
Again I moved in front of Josh. This time he seemed to take notice.
“How do you ever expect him to listen to you if you won’t even give
him a chance to speak?”
Josh stopped, looked at me, and then at Roddy, who put the car
in park and slid over to open the passenger-side door.
Yes I thought. This should do it. Get them to talk, Josh had time
to cool off, they were bound to patch things up enough for the night.
All I need is for them to get back together for just one night. “So where is he?”
I groaned. Not a good way to start, Josh.
“Not here, isn’t that what matters? Let me take you home.” Josh didn’t budge. I wanted to push him into the car but my touch
would have been no more effective than the breeze.
“Josh, it’s a long walk back,” I told him. Longer than you’ll ever
realize, I added to myself. “Go with Roddy.”
But Josh didn’t budge. He stood there with his arms folded over
his wide chest. “Promise me you won’t see him again. I’ll get in the
car if you promise me that.”
Both Roddy and I called out, “What?”
“If you love me you’d do that for me. If he doesn’t matter to
you.”
“Colin’s my friend.” Roddy’s face grew flushed. “That’s all. I
won’t drop him—”
“Not even for your boyfriend?”
“Not even. And if you really loved me, you wouldn’t ask.” “Fine then. Keep him. But you’re losing me.” Josh slammed the
car door shut on Roddy’s anguished face.
“Josh.”
Josh started walking again. Roddy pulled the car around and
headed back the way he came.
“No!” I called out. “No! You asshole, you don’t even know what
you just did!”
“Sure I do. I just broke up.”
“Listen to me. Get off the road. Cut through the woods. Take a
nap. Just get off the damn road!”
“What does it matter?”
“You’re going to get killed!”
He shrugged.
“Please, Josh.”
“What does it matter? No one cares if I die.”
I wish I could have shown him the yearbook page. “Not true. I
care.” I heard another car approaching. Was it the one? “If you die,
Josh, I die too. And everyone that cares about me will be hurt. All my
friends, my aunt, yes, my boyfriend, too, are going to be crushed.”
I saw headlights in the distance. “Like I’m about to be crushed. Like
Roddy was when you died.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “I doubt that.” The headlights grew closer. They weaved a bit on the road. The
guy’s driving like he’s drunk. It’s the one.
“Listen to me for once. Roddy was all broken up inside. He lost
his first love. You never forget that. Never. Just hearing your name
brings back the memories. I know he never stopped loving you even
though you turned your back on him.”
He stopped and turned around to face me. I could see the sadness,
lit by the oncom ing car’s lights. “He never stopped?”
The car came crashing toward us. I could see by its light my
shadow on the pavement. I could feel its oncoming heat. I was solid!
I was real!
Josh did not scream.

Something acrid made me blink. I found myself lying on the attic floor. Everyone huddled over me, with Trace holding a tissue that stank to my face.

“Ugh,” I weakly waved her hand away from me. I felt like I had been hit by the car, aching all over. I stretched my limbs a bit. Nothing seemed to be broken, just aching.

“So?” asked Mike. I noticed he had dark circles under his eyes. I glanced around and they all looked as bad as I felt.
“I don’t know,” I answered. Maggie and Taylor helped me sit up. “What happened here?”
“The ghost floated around you.” Taylor said.
“Yeah, we could see your mouth moving but no words came out. That was a while and we all just watched not sure what to do,” Mike went on. “Then you screamed and the ghost disappeared. You fainted and so Trace got some cleaner and we used it like smelling salts.”
I reached out to him, pulling his head forward. He seemed a little surprised but responded by holding the back of my head and kissing me back.
“Enough making out.” Trace pulled us apart. “Did it work?” she asked.
I looked around. More than that, I felt around. The attic was empty. I gave her an exhausted grin. “What’s the chances my luck has finally changed?”

The werewolf howled, its jaws wet with slaver, its claws bloody except that the movie was black and white and the yak fur pasted onto the actor seemed pretty dry. Trace walked in front of the television set just as the creature was bounding off through the foggy moors. Her black feathered wings drooped slightly, probably from when Taylor had pressed her against the hall wall, making out.

“Want some popcorn? Extra salty.” She held out a very full bowl.
I nodded.
My aunt’s house was decorated for the holiday, with all the bulbs switched to orange lights, crepe paper bats hanging from the ceiling, and the jack o’ lantern Mike had made me sitting prominently on the coffee table.
The doorbell rang. Maggie, dressed as a construction worker complete with greasepainted five o’clock shadow and

Maggie handed out candy. Valomilks. She shut the door. “One cute little boy was dressed as Snoopy.” She opened a pack of candy. I had lost count how many she had eaten. “He’s gay.”

I smiled instead of laughed. I hadn’t uttered a word all day, not even a sound. They all knew why. I was scared that some spirit might hear me and come calling. Halloween was just too risky.

Since the séance, I hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Josh. I guess at the end, he realized something about love. I hoped he was truly gone and had not returned to his eternal walking alone. I didn’t plan on finding out the truth.

Since that night, I had yet to see another ghost. But I didn’t think I was cured or anything. It was only a matter of time before I ran across another one. I tried not to dwell on that, but ever since, I found myself talking less and less as Halloween approached. With my aunt out on her first real date in ages, my friends had decided to come over and keep me company. I was glad to have them.

Mike came back from the kitchen with two mugs of hot chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps. He handed me one and then with his free hand lifted up the papier-mâché mask he had spent days on: A red devil with brown leather handlebar mustache. He sat down next to me.

I looked down at myself. I wore my normal basic black. I gave him a quizzical look.
“Just you, silly.”
I smiled and leaned in real close, so close that my lips brushed against his ear. “I love you back,” I said softly. I hoped he was the only one who heard me.
Onefifth of the author’s royalties will be donated to: the
Gay-Straight Alliance Network
, which is a youth-led organization that connects school-based Gay-Straight Alliances to one another and community resources; and, the
Trevor Project
, a nonprofit endeavor established to promote acceptance of gay and questioning teenagers, and to aid in suicide prevention in that group.

Steve Berman
has been writing stories both queer and strange for many years. He has had more than 80 stories and articles published and his work has appeared in the young adult fantasy anthologies
The Faery Reel
and
The Coyote Road
. Mr. Berman edited the anthologies
Charmed Lives, So Fey
and
Magic in the Mirrorstone.
He is an active member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America. He once worked as a professional bookbuyer to expand his personal library and he now lives in Southern New Jersey, surrounded by many old and odd books.