Shades of Gay Sample Chapter

On the hottest day of the summer before my senior year of high school, I sat outside on the porch, staring at nothing and trying not to think. Clouds swirled around my head and made me dream things I didn't dare dream, stuff about leaving this town and going to a big fancy school and studying what I wanted just for the fun of it without knowing what I would do with it later.

A big truck pulled up to the house next door. It wasn't a falling apart, dingy truck either. It was a fancy white truck with red stripes like people with money rent when they want to move somewhere. I sat up straight and squinted into the sun, watching while a boy jumped out of the passenger side. He was about my age but a little taller than me, with dark curls that bounced off his forehead. When he went to open the back of the truck I saw his muscles, which were like a wrestler's or a bodybuilder's or something. I couldn't help but wonder what his chest looked like. I raised my hand to my eyes and kind of waved. He glanced at me, then away, and went on moving stuff like he hadn't seen me.

A while later, the boy came over to the chain link fence and stared out. I'd just come out again, I'd been inside fixing a lemonade.

"So," he said. "A boy my age." He stood still, letting the words hang in the air between us 'til I had to say something.

I ran my hands through my ash-colored hair, wishing it was shiny and gorgeous like his. "My name's Arthur."

"Mitch," he said, and grinned. Then he walked away. I squeezed the links in the fence 'til my palms hurt, not knowing the twisted path God was about to send me down, just knowing something had changed and I had to get to know this guy.

I woke up in the middle of that night. A dream I couldn't remember faded away to nothing but a warm feeling. Something crinkled the air; glass breaking, maybe. I thought Mom had dropped a plate doing the dishes—she'd been doing that a lot since Dad left—but it was pitch black so it was way too late for her to be washing anything. I rolled over, too tired to solve the mystery, but sleep wouldn't come back. A slurred voice echoed through the open window and I couldn't tell if it was real or a dream. I pulled myself up and went to the window even though half of me wanted to stay in bed. I saw a shadow, someone crossing the street maybe, but nothing else. It was so dark I couldn't even see how tall they were.

Since I was up, I sat down at the computer and logged into Facebook. That was my secret pleasure—looking at guys on-line while the world was dead and asleep. I could breathe easier, giving in to who I really was and not having to pretend I was what I was expected to be. And yet it hurt somehow too.

Anyway, I was staring at one of the ads on the side. A guy grinned into the camera, showing a perfect shaped tongue behind fake white teeth. The ceiling lights blinked. I glanced up and swirled the mouse round the screen. That's when I saw I had a new friend request.

I opened it. It was from Mitch.

He was even hotter in the photo than in real life. His hair hung limply down and you could see the beginning of his bare chest. If I looked hard enough, I could even see steam. He'd written some kind of message that I didn't really read. Instead I let a stupid grin paste itself on my face while I stared. I clicked on "approve" without knowing what I was doing.

When I got tired of staring, I clicked on Mitch's profile. There wasn't a whole lot on his page. My stomach tightened with disappointment but I told myself that being mysterious was attractive. Next to his photo, all it said was his name and, "relationship status: it's complicated." Damn. Why were cute guys always tangled up in some mess?

Mom's bed creaked down the hall, and a second later she opened up my door. I minimized Facebook. Mom told me before not to do MySpace because she heard some news story about pedophiles hanging out there. She hadn't said anything about Facebook, but I figured better safe than sorry.

Mom's dark hair lay limp and tangled 'cross her face. She rubbed her eyes. "You're up awfully late, Arthur."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep, so I figured…"

Mom drew her lips into a thin line. "Go back to bed. Or at least turn that light off. I can see it all the way down the hall."

This was a lie, and I knew it. I'd had my door closed. The truth was, Mom had been woken up by the same noise as me and she was scared. There was no point to arguing, though, so I just stared at the screen and said, "OK."

Mom waited a second longer, her mouth slightly open like she was about to say something and couldn't quite get the words out. Then she slapped her hand against her thigh, turned, and walked away.

I closed the light and crawled back into bed. Ordinary sounds kept bothering me: cars driving too fast down the street, cats meowing, a tree branch scraping against my window. I rolled over. There was only one way in the world to get back to sleep. I hated myself for needing it, but it couldn't be helped. I reached into my shorts and put my hand over my thing while letting myself see Mitch in my mind. At first he was fully dressed, then he unbuttoned his shirt and let me see that gorgeous chest… then he unzipped his pants… and then… I was asleep.

The rest of the summer kind of trickled away like rainwater after a storm. The days stretched long and empty before me and bled into each other. I talked to Mitch over the fence sometimes, but that was about it for interesting stuff. A couple more times I heard glass breaking again, and once there was a loud argument over the fence, but it died away to nothing before I could even wake all the way up. The day after that, Mom found beer bottles on our lawn. She called Mitch's dad an old drunk and marched over there with them. I don't know what she said, but it never happened again.

Then one morning at the end of July, Mitch was standing by the fence smoking a cigarette. I had come out to dump the trash, but instead I stood staring, squeezing the drawstrings in my hand. Smoke billowed up from the end of the cigarette. It was wrong, but I couldn't turn away. Watching Mitch play with something in his mouth made me feel tight inside.

"Wanna take a picture?" Mitch grinned. He threw his head back. "This is my better angle."

"Sorry." I shuffled towards the trash.

"Hey, it's cool. I know I'm beautiful."

I froze. My ears felt hot.

Mitch sucked on his cigarette.

I made myself finish dumping the trash. Mitch looked like he was going to say something when I passed back by, but he didn't. I tried and tried, but the only things I could think of were dumb shit about school starting soon. So instead I said, "See ya," and hurried back into the house.

Mom had her back to me as I came in. I hate that cause I can't tell if she's in a decent mood that way. "I see you were talking to that boy," she said, drying a dish with a small white towel.

I stared at the flowers on the back of her dress. "Yeah."

"Good." Mom put the dish in the rack. "He could use a friend like you."

My stomach churned the way it does on upside-down roller coasters. "Mom…" I said, but I didn't go on. To keep talking would have meant knowing what I felt and how to explain it, and I didn't have either one.

Mom turned around and raised her eyebrows.

All I said was, "Never mind." Mom looked at me kind of funny, her head cocked all the way to one side like she was trying to figure me out. I felt guilty, but what could I do? She could never understand about me, not if God Himself came down from Heaven. I mean, I didn't even understand why I felt about other guys the way men on TV felt about girls. So why bother trying to explain?

Mom set her lips into a hard line. "I know you'd rather keep to yourself, Arthur. But sometimes you have to think of other people. That boy has nobody. His father's nothing but a drunk and his mother – "

"How do you know?"

"Because I do. Trust me, Arthur. When you work in the only hospital in a town like this, you hear things."

"But maybe those things are wrong. Maybe –"

"People talk. Get used to it." Mom turned back to the dishes, her way of saying the conversation was over. I stared at her. The red flowered print on her blouse and the long, dark hair lying loose and careless 'cross her back, those were her all right. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't looking at my mother. Either I wasn't me anymore or she wasn't… her. Or maybe it was a little of both. I shook my head and tried to think stuff that made some sense. I couldn't. So instead I slunk away to my room and went to check out Facebook while Mom was too busy to pay attention.

I stayed inside for the most part after that, especially if Mitch was out. We barely talked, and that was fine with me. Somehow Mom deciding we had to be friends made me lose interest. I didn't like the way she was pushing us together, as if he was a charity case I needed to take care of.

The rest of the summer fell into a predictable routine. I'd wake up when Mom was getting ready to leave for work and just lie there, listening. Water running and doors slamming were comforting noises, somehow. They made me feel like life was still normal, even though I felt deep down like everything had already changed and was out of control.

Anyway, I'd drift back off to sleep, listening to those noises. When I woke up again, the house would be totally quiet. I'd sit straight up in bed, my head full of awesome plans for the day. But somehow I'd get on the computer and everything else would fade to dust. The clock would tick another day away while I stared at Facebook, looking for something without knowing why I wanted it.

One day, just as I was turning the bath water on, the doorbell rang. I stiffened. My hand felt frozen to the hot water knob. I hate doorbells. When I was a kid, I read that bad strangers ring the doorbell when grown-ups aren't home, and I've never quite shaken that fear.

It rang again. I sighed and turned the water off. I threw my robe on over my bare chest and boxers and went to see who it was.

When I cracked the door and looked through the chain, Mitch grinned at me. The door cut off his gorgeous eyes and dark, wavy hair. But I knew his grin, knew his whole head was thrown back with its force.

My heart pounded, but I made myself answer the door. "What's up?"

"You, dude. It's about time." Mitch was too easygoing. Something was wrong with him. "I haven't seen you in forever. Where you been?"

"Busy. You know, getting ready for school and stuff."

"Oh yeah. That's what I wanted to ask you." Mitch came further in. His breath smelled funny, sour and sweet at the same time. I backed away, but I couldn't keep my eyes away from him. He was pulling at something in his back pocket and I hungered for my hand to be where his was.

"Here it is," Mitch said. He laughed. "Things get misplaced so easy." He turned an envelope over and over in his hands. "Listen, I got this schedule thing in the mail… I don't get it at all."

"Oh, it's just your class list. It's actually really easy once you –"

"I was wondering if we had any classes together."

My stomach shrank until it was against my back. I shifted my weight. "Maybe."

"Well, we can't see without your schedule." Mitch laughed again.

"Yeah." I shuffled towards my room. "I gotta get it. I – I'd invite you in but…" Was my voice shaking? Did he know, could he tell, that I meant what it sounded like I meant?

"Cool." Mitch shrugged. I felt so nervous I didn't even have the words to label what I felt.

I ran to my room and closed the door hard to make sure it stayed closed. My schedule was right where it was supposed to be, on top of my drawer chest in its envelope. I made a big deal out of rustling stuff in my closet anyway. I didn't want to come out of my room.

When I finally got back to the living room, Mitch was sprawled out on the couch. His head was back and his legs were wide open. My mouth suddenly became dryer than dry. I licked my lips. "Erm… here it is."

"Let's have it," Mitch said in an offhand way.

"What?"

"Schedule."

"Oh yeah." I handed it to him. My hand was shaking despite my best efforts.

"Hey, relax, man. It's your house. No need to be nervous." Mitch tore the top of the envelope even though it was already torn. He pulled the schedule card out quick. I held my breath while he scanned it.

"AP classes. So you're a brain."

"It's not a big deal. You just gotta read a lot of books and shit."

"Nice." Mitch handed me the schedule. "Looks like we got gym and free period together. Cool." He got up, looking like he wanted to stretch. "Gotta go, man. See ya."

I tried to go back to being detached, but as Mitch walked out I stared at his butt and wished we had more classes together.

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