CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 14 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
Friday morning had come all too quickly for West's taste. He
was admittedly nervous on two fronts going into school that morning. First
was his date--he was petrified but refused to admit it to himself. The second
was the fact that he had come out to Jenny-Lynn, and that meant coming in
the door he was very aware of everyone around him.
Was she going to keep it secret? Had she told people? If she
had who had she told?
He could walk in and deny everything, hide again behind the
lies and get on with the last few weeks of school. Or he could be a man and
face it down. If he chose the latter, then he would have to presume everyone
knew and treat it that way.
There were some murmurs that morning, and no one rushed to give
him the cursory nods hello. It was as if some of them chose to look the other
way, and not acknowledge him. The second the first one did that, West knew
he was out at school. And he swallowed: that answered that question.
That left only one question remaining, how would he handle it?
He squared his shoulders and walked down the corridor to the
gym, ambling through the door in the usual fashion he did each day, walking
towards the scorekeeper's chair--his chair now after Brad's deposal.
Everyone was watching him, doing their best to act as if they
didn't see him, but he could feel their eyes. He offered up a sardonic smile
as he closed on the chair; Jensen was sitting in it chatting to a couple of
their teammates. He looked up lazily, and he swallowed nervously as West closed
on him, but he made no move to get out of the chair.
"Hey," Jensen said, looking up at West's clear grey
eyes looking down at him.
"Get the hell out of my chair," West stated with a
grin as he reached out to cuff the back of Jensen's head, the way seniors
were supposed to do with over-ambitious juniors. West had to show nothing
had changed, he had to...
Jensen got up and out of the chair, allowing West to flop into
it and fold his arms. "Game Saturday," he commented.
"Y-yeah..." Jensen said uncomfortably, like he would
rather be anywhere else than there. But it was his own fault, his eagerness
to become top dog had trapped him squarely into talking to the new school
pariah.
West wasn't about to let him run. "So what's the latest
news around school?" West asked, leaning back into the chair and looking
up at Jensen.
"N-nothing..." Jensen stammered.
"Right," West said looking over at Matt bounding over
to join them. The small winger skidded to a halt and bounced up onto the scorekeeper's
table.
"So...heard you were gay." he said with a broad grin
all over his face.
Everyone in the gym went silent as they all turned to look at
Matt, expecting West to deck him or something. Matt for his part sat there
with a huge grin on his face staring at his friend.
West shrugged. "Yeah?" he replied, "figured you'd
catch up eventually."
Matt grinned and glanced about him, "Cool, I'm gay too."
"No," West corrected again, "you're just a slut,
there's a difference."
"Yeah, I keep forgetting." Matt grinned over at Jensen,
"How about you Jen, you gay?"
Jensen's eyes went wide, "N-no...I mean...no..."
"Come on," Matt insisted, "go gay for a day,
you know it'd give those Baptist parents of yours a heart attack."
"You're just twisted," Jensen said shaking his head
firmly. "You mean it's... true?" he asked looking at West.
West could again deny everything, give the assholes in the school
ammunition to fire at him, something to throw around behind his back. Use
it against him to try to pull him down. Or, he could make them face it. Put
it all out in the open and take the one weapon they thought they had and make
it completely useless.
"Yeah, I'm gay," West said firmly folding his arms.
"So that means we can have sex now, right?" Matt chirped
off cheerily.
"You two are just sick!" Jensen commented, shaking
his head as he started back off across the gym floor.
Matt looked down at West, tossed him a wink and darted off,
catching up to Jensen as he spun the junior around, grabbed him by the jacket
front and pulled him into a kiss. Jensen didn't resist and West blinked in
surprise as the junior suddenly realized what was happening and he pushed
Matt off of him, to the laughter of the rest of the gym.
Mel, walking past them both, turned and cocked her eyebrow,
smirking as she shook her head. She came over to join West, typically sitting
on the table beside him and the other jocks who were still in varying states
of shock.
"So...heard you like dick," she commented, sitting
down alongside him.
"Heard you like lots of dicks," West shot back, turning
to face her.
She stared at him long and hard, searching his face a moment,
before she nodded. "Good for you," she said in a quiet voice and
threw him a wink.
He nodded at her. She was as tough as nails, the kind of girl
that listened to Nirvana and beat up on boys when they showed weakness. But
she was always the first to recognize strength when she saw it, and when West
refused to back down, roll over and play dead, she gave him her respect.
"I should find Jenny-Lynn," West said, standing up
and gesturing for Mel to take his chair.
Mel for her part arched an eyebrow at all the hockey players
eyeing her with envy, as she swept her legs around to take the chair. "She's
in the lobby," she said, giving him another nod.
West smiled at her tightly and left the gym. Round one went
to him and those friends he could count on. The question was, in the battle
for his reputation, could he keep up the fight?
He kept his head held high; if he looked down and wallowed in
the misery that was stirring in his stomach, if he gave into it, that was
it--it was all over. He adjusted the coat on his shoulders, keeping his eyes
up and his chin level as he walked out into the lobby, making a statement
with his movements, ignoring the lowered whispers and stares that were being
thrown his way.
He squared his shoulders again, and began to cross the lobby.
There were a number of surprised looks, questioning glances from one student
to another, as they hadn't expected this. They fed upon fear, upon rumour,
upon anger and misery. West was not going to grant them the satisfaction of
that. He wasn't going to apologize for being himself, not then, not ever.
He was the captain of the team, he was West Harding, and they had to deal
with it.
Blake was watching him, sitting on the steps to the auditorium,
his pen going on the note pad he was scribbling in. And West wondered if it
was another story about him, and it made him flash a tight smile across to
the young writer. A smile that made Blake blush a little as he returned it.
A couple of West's teammates, Paul Gautier and Clovis Hickey,
the two defensemen on the first line, crossed the floor to meet him, blocking
his way with the kind of intimidating wall of flesh that only the defensive
core could muster. And West knew that it was coming. The moment that would
decide what happened with the team.
Coach Highmore was lurking over by the office, just watching,
and he caught West's eyes. The two men exchanged a momentary understanding--Highmore
wouldn't interfere, West had to do this on his own.
There was however, one thing that went above ancient prejudices.
One thing in Canadian culture that rewrote the book of rules on how people
are supposed to act. Hockey. It was the be-all, end-all of Canadian culture.
And West was the captain of the team, and these were his two principal defensemen.
Clovis stuck out his hand to West, leaning down. "We're
behind you, man," he said in a low tone.
West looked at the hand, momentarily surprised by it. He had
expected bruises, or hard words, or taunting. He hadn't expected... teamwork...
West reached out a hand and shook Clovis's, as the tall defenseman looked
at his buddy Paul, nudging him to do the same.
Paul shrugged, sticking out his own hand and shaking West's
as well. The two separated to allow him past.
Coach Highmore looked as surprised as West felt, and motioned
for West to join him a moment. West glanced around the lobby, and then up
at the windows to the art room, high above the scene, where a pair of blue
eyes was watching him.
He offered a nod and a smile up at them as he went over to join
Highmore. "Coach," he greeted.
"West," Highmore said with a nod. "Causing quite
a stir your first week on the job."
"All part of my successful leadership strategy," West
mused dryly. "I figure, alienate the whole team before my first game
as team captain would be a great way to win the championship."
"Worked for me," Highmore replied, looking meaningfully
at West. "If you need to talk..."
"What about 'privacy'?" West asked, returning the
look.
"I was wrong," Highmore admitted, "and I stand
by the fact I underestimated you, West."
"Meh," West shrugged, looking at all the eyes continuing
to watch him talking to the coach, "I think you're not the only one."
"The day's going to get harder," Highmore warned.
"You need anything, come find me."
"I have to do this on my own," West replied, smiling
at the coach, "but thanks."
Highmore chuckled, "You know, you remind me of an old friend
of mine, stubborn to the end."
"Your boyfriend, Will Carter?" West asked.
Highmore nodded, "Carter was just as stubborn when he was
outed at school. Wouldn't let anyone help him."
"But?" West asked meeting Highmore's eyes.
"But I never did know when to butt out." Highmore
replied. "Good luck, West."
"Thanks, Coach," West replied, watching Highmore head
off through the school. He wondered what it must have been like for the coach.
Had he been anything like West? What had Will Carter been like at his age?
He looked thoughtful for a moment, setting off again on his quest to find
Jenny-Lynn.
He found her in the library, just off of the lobby; if there
was a place to hide, she had picked the one place where she was reasonably
certain he wouldn't look for her. However, West only had to look around the
lobby and see she was absent, and figure out the next logical place for her
to go.
She was standing by the big bay windows at the far end of the
library overlooking the front of the school. She must have seen him pull up
that morning, and she had to know he would be looking for her.
He leaned against one of the shelves of books and watched her
quietly a moment, thinking what his life would have been like if he were straight.
Would they be in love? What would their kids be like, the house, the car?
And he realized again why he was gay -- in all those thoughts there wasn't
one about being with her, nothing sexual at all. It was all about what things
should be in a normal relationship, all the trappings, but none of the things
a straight guy would consider.
"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, not turning,
continuing to stare out of the window. Was she considering the same things
he was? Things that would never be?
"What for?" West asked lightly. "I told you last
night I didn't care what people thought about me."
"Don't you?" she asked carefully. "I was hurt
and confused last night, I had to talk to somebody and... it was too late
to stop it." She sounded upset, understandably so.
"The only people whose opinions matter to me are my friends,"
West replied. "And you."
"I...don't know what to think," she said, finally
turning. Her eyes were red, puffy from crying. His heart sank; he had wanted
to spare her tears, he hadn't mean to hurt her so much.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, trying to soften her
pain with a reassuring look. "I wanted to spare you more... I didn't
want to hurt you like this."
"But... why?" she asked, almost pleadingly for an
explanation. "Why?"
"I can't change who I am," he said firmly, "and
I'm through with all this lying." He met her eyes and shrugged, "Do
you want me to lie to you? Marry you, live together with you for the next
seven, eight, ten years only to be miserable, and blame you for it every single
day. And when that happens, then what? You will come to resent me as well...
and if we had kids... what happens then? When all we do is hate each other,
what do we do then?"
She shook her head, "It's you who chose to be gay!"
"You don't choose to be gay," West replied firmly.
"You don't wake up one morning and say 'Hey, today I will be gay for
a day.' It doesn't work that way."
"But..." she began, "couldn't you just... like,
be a priest or something?"
"A priest?" he asked, frowning. "Why? Just because
I'm gay I should be a priest?"
"But...it's wrong," she said softly.
"No," West replied firmly, "the only thing that's
wrong is other people telling me I am wrong because of who I am. I'm sorry,
Jenny, I have to go." He turned and walked from the library, knowing
full well that her opinion was shared by others that were, even as he walked,
still whispering about him..
The whispers were deadly, some of them acrid barbs being hurled
at him while his back was turned, or they thought he was out of earshot. None
of them had the guts to say it to his face, and that was the crux of the problem.
He could face down anyone that came at him directly, but they would never
do it. They preferred their whispers; they preferred to assassinate his character
from the shadows.
He found himself walking the familiar route to the art room.
And it was as if Peter was waiting for him, sitting facing the door expectantly
as West hesitated a moment before coming in and sitting down in the chair
across from the small artist.
The picture of him was hanging on the presentation board, and
West stared at it a moment, at the sadness in his own eyes. He looked over
at Peter, "You heard?"
"I'm shy, not deaf," Peter quipped back, offering
a smile in his eyes as he did so. "Guess I owe you an apology for not
believing you."
"It's okay," West replied, looking up at the picture,
"I think you knew all along."
Peter glanced at the picture, then back at West, "It's...I
guess I just didn't realize what I was seeing."
"So," West said turning, a half-formed realization
in his mind, "How long have you been looking?"
Peter blinked. "I...that is, I'm not...I don't... I'm not
attracted to you," he said firmly.
West shifted in his chair. "Bullshit," he commented.
"Fuck you!" Peter said in a huff. "What the hell,
I finally try to be nice to you and you find yet another way to piss me off...
I... it's... fuck you!" he repeated petulantly folding his arms and glaring.
West stood up, looking down at Peter, wondering at him before
he cracked a smile, "Well at any rate, you're my friend." He stuck
out his hand.
Peter looked at it a moment and sighed, shaking West's hand.
"I don't want to date you," he repeated.
"Liar," West replied again with a grin.
"Would you stop!" Peter said firmly.
West nodded and walked from the room, back out into the halls
of whispers.
Why did he feel a need to press that with Peter? He was going
on a date with Blake. He was faced with a total disaster of his school life,
and yet he found himself having to call Peter on the lie in which he barricaded
himself away. He wasn't falling for Peter, he couldn't be; they rubbed each
other the wrong way. They didn't get along; their friendship was forced and
strained at the best of times--was it just ego?
Blake had said West was arrogant at times.
Blake with his smiling eyes and reassuring smile. West glowed
a bit inside; all he had to do was make it through the day and then he'd be
out with Blake. Did he have a crush on Blake? He laughed at his own thoughts
as he walked through the halls to his locker and started to pull some books
down.
A piece of paper fell to the floor at his feet, and he bent
down to pick it up.
FAG
He held it up, staring at the three simple letters that had
been hastily scribbled in marker. He turned the paper over in his hands, knowing
that people were looking at him.
He reached into his locker for his pencil case; taking out some
tape he pulled off a strip, closed his locker door and taped the note to the
door. Taking out a pen, he wrote "Yep" under it. Locked the locker
door and walked away.
Knowing a couple of the other students had rushed forward to
see what he had written, the excited burst of conversation behind him told
him the day had only just begun.
