When Jeff Comes Home (18 page)

"School is the best thing for you, Jeff." Dad sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "I'm sorry about Vin. I had him factored in as someone who would help you."

"I don't need help," I said, stung. "I don't need him. I'm not going to school for friends, anyway. I'm going to learn stuff and get good grades and ... all that." Dad nodded, looking unhappy.

We were quiet as the waitress dropped off our Cokes. Then Dad said, "I've scheduled you for a doctor's appointment next Friday. Someone from the DA's office in San Francisco is coming up with a police photographer. They'll meet us at the doctor's office. The DA needs the preliminary medical report and pictures of your back as evidence."

The good news was piling up. "I feel fine," I said, taking a sip of my drink. I saw that my hands were shaking, and set the glass down fast.

"Is the doctor a man or woman?" The words were out of my mouth before I realized the implications of my question. Blushing, I reached for a tortilla chip.

"It's Dr. Torrence. Remember him?"

I recalled a heavy, middle-aged man who barely spoke. "Yeah, I remember him. But I'm fine. I don't need any doctor."

"I need you to go to the doctor then," Dad said. "I need to know, for my peace of mind, for yours . . . that you're all right."

"Dad," I said softly, "please don't talk about this stuff."

"The DA's office is trying to get a court order to test him, but so far—"

"You're talking about AIDS, aren't you?"

Now Dad's face was red. "I... yes."

"I'm okay," I said with more assurance than I felt.

"I know you are," Dad said quickly. "But you're going to be tested anyway. Not just for that. You need a complete physical exam. I should have done it sooner."

"Fine, whatever," I said. "Excuse me, okay?" Dad nodded and I slid out of the booth quickly, avoiding his eyes.

Locking the bathroom door, I stared at myself in the mirror that wrapped around three-quarters of the octagonal room.

I looked awful. My eyes were reddened and moist, though I didn't feel like crying at all. My hair was growing out from the semi-crewcut Mel had given me, and it stuck up at funny angles. My hands were shoved deep into the pockets of jeans that bagged around my waist. Worst of all, my face was bright red.

God, how can he stand to look at me?

Had I looked this way at the high school?

Sure you did. You were just as embarrassed there, weren't you?

No, this was worse, because there I hadn't known that Dad was discussing the possibility I had AIDS with . . . who? The district attorney's office, Stephens, of course. Ray.

And how do you get AIDS, Dad?

"I can't stand this," I said quietly.

Someone tapped at the door. "Jeff?" Dad said. "Jeff, are you in there? Are you all right?"

I closed my eyes.

Leave me alone, Dad. Leave me alone.

I couldn't sleep at all the night before
school started. Around four I gave it up as impossible and turned my light on. My heart was pounding against my chest, too hard for me to ignore.

God, what am I going to do?

I stood in the hallway, grateful for the light Dad left on every night, for me I knew.

Sixteen years old and you need a night-light. No, you need the whole hallway lit up, don't you? Pathetic.

Charlie's door was shut, as usual. Down the hall from me, one door over from the bathroom, Brian's door was ajar, and I could hear his quick, shallow breathing.

You're going to do it anyway, so just do it.

I walked to the end of the hallway, stopping at the room near the top of the stairs. Leaning my head against the wall, I waited until I heard Dad's deep, steady, even breathing. Connie slept so quietly I could never hear her, but she wasn't the one I needed.

I sank back against the wall next to their door, suddenly sleepy. I sat like that for a moment, then stretched out along the carpeted hallway, resting my head on my arms.

"Jeff?"

I opened my eyes slowly, not knowing if I had slept for minutes or hours. I was curled up on the floor, my arms straight down in front of me, my cheek pressed against the carpet. Brian was crouched alongside me.

He looked concerned, his brown hair falling over his eyes the same way Dad's did. I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn't. I smiled at him.

"Hey."

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked, his voice strangely mature.

"No. I just couldn't stay in my room anymore."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid," I said flatly. Brian nodded. He glanced into Dad and Connie's room, then leaned forward.

"You can sleep in my room, if you want," he said quietly.

"No," I said too quickly, raising myself on one elbow. His face fell. "I mean, thanks, but that's probably not a good idea." Unbidden, a quick image of Brian and me curled up on the same bed flashed through my mind, and Connie discovering us that way.

For the first time I felt a flash of pure hatred at Ray.

Goddamn you for spoiling everything.

Brian had recovered, his face set now in a kind of loving concern too old for his years. "I could stay here until you fall asleep again," he said. "Would that be okay?"

I waited a moment, then let myself relax, sliding back down onto the carpet, resting my head on my outstretched arm. "Okay," I mumbled, closing my eyes.

I awoke to the sound of Dad's alarm and his muffled groan as he shut it off. Brian was gone. I crept back to my room, falling into bed and burrowing under the covers.

Two hours after that, Charlie woke me for school. I felt like I'd slept about ten minutes.

Charlie glanced over at me as we were leaving the house. "You look good, Jeff," she offered shyly.

I smiled wryly, my looks not being the main thing on my mind. "You're the one who looks good," I tossed back, then realized it was true. Charlie wore a green sweater and black pants, and her hair was pulled tightly back in a braid.

As soon as we left the subdivision, I saw the first groups of students, some of them heading to the high school like we were, others standing around in groups of four or five, smoking and talking.

"We should leave earlier tomorrow," Charlie murmured.

But no one took any particular notice of us as we joined the stream. Charlie was walking too fast, a few steps ahead of me, books clutched to her chest, her head down.

"Charlie," I said quietly, reaching out to touch her elbow. She slowed immediately, giving me an apologetic smile. No need to advertise our position.

"Okay," Charlie said as we walked along in step. "We both have PE first period, that's in the gym. You have English with Tower after that, right?" I nodded. "Okay. After PE, wait for me by the fence next to the baseball field, and I'll walk you to class."

I caught sight of Vin's truck parked in the student lot where it had been the day he, Brian and I had come to the high school to play basketball. My mood soured as I realized I would almost certainly run into him today.

"Jeff? Is that okay, if we meet after PE?"

"Hey, I can find my own way around," I snapped, glancing over at her. Charlie was looking down again, frowning, holding her books to herself in a gesture that looked more like one of comfort than protection.

"Sorry," I said awkwardly. "Sure, we can meet after PE, if you want."

Charlie smiled at me. "We might have PE together, anyway. The coaches combine the boys' and girls' classes a lot, for volleyball and badminton and things."

As we entered the open courtyard between the computer building and the Humanities complex, I began to feel stares coming our way and picked out the sound of my name spoken by many different voices. By instinct I kept walking, staring straight ahead, but I could feel my heart beating faster. Charlie walked beside me, her presence delicate but steady. Then I heard it, just a whisper, but the word hit me like a fist.

"Fag." I couldn't stop myself from looking around to find the source. To our right, by a water fountain, three boys who had to be freshmen laughed together. One of them, slight and scrawny with a patchy mustache, saw me looking and said it louder. "Fag!"

Charlie squeezed my arm. "Ignore them, Jeff. They're losers." I shook her off, walking faster, Charlie scrambling to keep up.

"Sorry," I muttered after a moment, slowing my pace. She nodded tightly, not looking at me.

"Hi, Jeff," a group of girls screamed in unison from the outside railing of the classroom building above us. I jumped, managing a halfhearted wave in their direction. They laughed at that, talking excitedly with one another. While their laughter sounded friendly, I was chilled through.

"Where's Sherry?" Charlie muttered, stopping abruptly. "She was supposed to meet us by the Humanities building. Do you see her anywhere?" She looked around, glaring at anyone who caught her eye.

"Charlie, relax." I saw that she was trembling, and I was able to forget myself. "C'mon. We'll catch up with Sherry later."

"Okay, Jeff." She took a deep breath and we began walking again. Two guys brushed by us, headed the opposite direction. After they passed, I heard one say, "That's that guy." The other replied, "Him? No way."

The first one muttered something I could not hear and then they laughed together, explosively.

"I hate them," Charlie whispered, but neither of us looked back.

The path we walked ran parallel to the football and baseball fields, and I looked at them with longing and regret. If I had never met Ray Slaight, I would have been in my third year of playing, possibly starring, in both sports for Wayne High. Vin would have been my teammate and best friend. At sixteen, I might have had a few casual girlfriends already, maybe even a serious one. The kids at Wayne High would know me only as an athlete, a good student, a person secure in a tight circle of friends.

But because I had been in the right place at the wrong time, I was a curiosity, a freak, someone worthy of, at best, pity.

It's not fair, you idiots. What happened to me could have happened to any of you. It could have been any one of you, and if it was, I wouldn't be treating you this way.

The rage that swept through me then was enough to carry me the rest of the way to the gym stiff-backed and head up.

Charlie and I split off and I headed over to the boys' locker room. I slowed down, sweat breaking out on my forehead as I saw Vin huddled with Andy Keller and two other guys under the awning next to the locker-room door. My first thought was of flight, damn everything else. But one of them had seen me, a squat fireplug of a guy I recognized as Ryan Tanner, one of our group from Wayne Elementary.

"Hey, there he is," Ryan said, nudging Andy. Vin looked around quickly, then turned back, shaking his head slightly.

"Shee . . . it," Andy drawled, staring at me, his lip curling. Ryan laughed. I had enough of that and pushed open the door to the locker room.

It was crowded and noisy inside, and lots of guys were already dressed out. I stopped just inside the door, panicked already by the hot, close smell of the room and the proximity, of so many of my peers. Why had Dad sent me here? None of his pious prescriptions made sense to me now. My heart racing, I remembered the four behind me, and stepped aside just as they burst through the door.

I couldn't stop myself from looking over at them. Vin met my eyes, his expression unreadable. I turned away fast, almost tripping over my own feet, reaching out for a locker to brace myself.

"Hey!" some kid yelled right in my ear, and I jumped back, mumbling an apology. The locker was his, apparently.

"Watch out, Foster, he's looking at you," the guy next to him said, grinning.

"Get out of the way, why don't you?" Foster said, glaring at me.

"Sorry," I said again, then flushed, hating my own weakness. I stepped back into the narrow aisle between the rows of lockers and the shower area—then stopped,

paralyzed, as I saw the group coming through. Ryan and the other guy pushed past me, snickering, then Vin, his eyes averted. Andy was last. He motored to a stop in front of me, so close I could smell his breath. The rough tiles of the shower wall crunched against my back.

"What?" I tried, shrugging, daring to meet his eyes.

He sneered, shaking his head. "You make me sick, man."

"Yeah?" I said, proud of the calmness of my voice.

"Let some guy take pictures of you." I looked down. When Andy spoke again, his voice was stronger. "Yeah, you and that guy."

"Andy, come on," Vin said from somewhere nearby. He sounded tired. I didn't bother to look up.

Andy waited a moment, letting me feel it, then drew back, snorting, walking away with a swagger.

I sighed involuntarily, leaning back against the tiled wall, standing up again when I noticed a short, muscular man, unmistakably a coach, headed in my direction.

"Jeff Hart?" I nodded. "I'm Jake Lewis." He held out his hand, and after a moment, I took it. Lewis's handshake was firm and brief. "Come up to the office and I'll give you your locker assignment."