CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 20 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
Peter was in his usual high perch. From the art room he could
see everything going on in the lobby, a bird's-eye view over the day-to-day
drama of teenaged lives. The fights, the lovers, the friends and those who
used to be friends. He often sat up there apart from the other students with
his sketchbook on his lap as he watched them.
Will had dropped him off early that morning, something about
having to be at work ahead of time to get a report to his dictatorial boss.
Peter didn't understand that--if a person hated his job so much that he dreaded
going in to it each day, why stay at that job? But there Will was, each and
every day heading in to a job that was slowly destroying little pieces of
his soul...
Peter sighed, wishing there was some way he could help his 'brother',
but as usual he just drew a blank. There was nothing he, a kid, could do to
help. Will was eternally stubborn, and wouldn't listen even if he tried. The
only one Will listened to seemed to be Highmore.
Brad was finally back at the school, a defeated look on his
face as his shoulders sloped, awaiting the ridicule that would accompany a
man recently deposed from the top. And Peter set his pencil aside as he watched
a couple of Brad's former teammates, led by Jensen, intercept their fallen
leader...
The former king's men...
He frowned as he sat upright; he knew trouble when he saw it.
Jensen was gesturing towards the gym, speaking in a low tone. Brad seemed
confused, and Peter wished he could hear what was being said... But he could
see Brad's body language change from beaten to questioning, and as it changed
a little of the old Brad, the swaggering confident Brad that had ruled the
school with his usual brand of terror and bullying, returned.
Concern flickered through Peter; they had to be telling him
about West.
Peter swallowed and dropped his art book to the desk and sprinted
past a startled Mrs. McGorlick who called after him to walk in the halls.
He ignored her, only one thought on his mind--he had to warn West...
He flew down the stairs, his Hawaiian shirt flapping out behind
him as he took the stairs two at a time to crash through the fire doors and
run along the outside of the school heading for the gym entrance, hoping to
get there ahead of Brad's 'revolution' as they would have to wind their way
through the school to cover the same distance.
Peter squeaked into the gym, and looked around to try and spot
where West was.
* * *
West was exactly where he was supposed to be--sitting over in
the scorekeeper's chair watching the basketball scrimmages out on the hardwood,
talking to Matt. Mel lounged, as always, in her place of honour, being attended
to by a couple of suitors.
He'd been trying to explain to Matt about his weekend, but he
was failing to make sense out of it. Matt was, as usual, hung up on the more
intimate details and wasn't really interested in the other facts.
"So... did you two...?"
"For the fourth time," West said patiently, "no;
Blake and I aren't... he's not my type."
Mel leaned over and looked at West. "You have a type?"
she asked with a smirk.
"Well no," West replied, "I just... look, Blake's
a nice guy but I didn't feel anything."
"So you slept with him?" Mel asked.
"Again, no I didn't..." West trailed off as he noticed
Peter. The young artist was looking about breathlessly. He was completely
out of his element in the gym; even though he was the spitting image of his
brother Robert, just something about the way he looked lost in the gym made
him stand out.
"Hello," Mel said following West's gaze, "I think
we just found West's type."
"Who, Peter?" Matt said screwing up his nose. "Nah."
Mel glanced at Matt a moment, trying to read something there,
amusement lighting her eyes.
Peter spotted them, and approached, standing uneasily a moment
as he glanced over his shoulder towards the doors of the gym, as if expecting
at any moment for...
Brad entered the gym, Jensen and a couple of his cronies in
tow.
"Uh-oh," Matt murmured, standing up.
A couple of the team players lounging on the wall also straightened
up. They just needed to see Brad's face to know something was brewing. West
glanced at each of them but remained seated. The chair he was sitting in was
as much a symbol as it was anything else. It was a tradition that went back
as far as anyone could remember: the captain of the team got the chair. Problem
was, the tradition had never taken "two captains" into account.
Even if one of them had been deposed, the inevitable showdown would have to
take place there.
West sat quietly, calmly. He knew how this had to play out,
he remembered his dad's stories about the Army. There was only one way to
ensure command--be the last one to speak, and make sure it was with authority.
Brad hesitated, but stepped up past the lost little Peter, his
appearance all wrong without his team jacket, like he was suddenly smaller.
"West," he greeted uncomfortably.
"Morning, Brad," West replied. His father's words
guided him as he let the situation play out: ask no questions, only answer
them; make it clear you have only answers.
"Jensen... was filling me in on... stuff..." Brad
said, glancing at the weaselly Jensen who was darting furtive glances around
him as he tried to shrink back behind Brad.
West nodded, "Good."
Short, decisive words. Keep control; let other people know you
know what you are doing.
At the far end of the gym, Coach Highmore was leaning against
a pile of gym mats, always watching, always observing. The basketball games
had all stopped, and an uneasy silence was settling over the normally noisy
gym as people watched and waited to see how the latest drama would play out.
"You mean this shit's true? What he's been saying?"
Brad glanced at Jensen and then back at West, "You're a fucking homo?"
Matt stepped forward protectively, stepping halfway between
the two. "Watch it, Brad!" he warned, the short winger's fists balling
as he allowed venom to drip into his normally cheerful voice.
"It's okay, Matt," West cut him off, adjusting his
seat in the chair to relax back, crossing one ankle over his knee. Making
it clear he was very comfortable there. And sending a clear message that he
wasn't about to move aside to let Brad retake 'his' seat.
Matt looked back and nodded, taking a single step to the side,
still not fully relaxing. Behind him, Paul and Clovis had stepped up as well.
There was only one word that was universal amongst all of them: team. And
whatever loyalty they felt for Brad only extended so far--he was no longer
their captain, West was. And the team stood together. That was the way it
worked.
West had been waiting for that small gesture, that single sign
of solidarity that sent a message to everyone in the gym. Brad was no longer
top dog.
Brad glanced at his former teammates, his jaw setting, and a
flash in his eyes stating that he had noted their betrayal. He looked down
at West haughtily. "Congratulations on making captain," he bit off.
"Thanks," West replied. Circumstances wouldn't allow
them a friendship; they were steadfastly destined for conflict.
All those years of playing together as kids on the ice, sleepovers
at each other's houses. The mischief and mayhem they had caused together.
The Friday nights at the bar, cruising around Ottawa with the windows down
and loud music blaring. It was all over in a single moment.
West knew he was being overdramatic; his friendship with Brad
had always been strained. He had let Brad become team captain at the start
of the year, because he knew how much his friend had wanted it. But instead
of gratitude, Brad had lorded the illustrious title and squandered its meaning.
Looking back on it, West knew that moment had been building for a long time,
and it had nothing to do with his being gay.
No, his being gay was just the final insult. Brad had lost his
team, his friends, his reputation and to who? A fag. The unbridled hate in
those eyes staring at him told West everything Brad was thinking.
And West realized that Brad just didn't matter. So what if he
hated him? It didn't impact a single solitary thing. West wasn't about to
let someone else's issues overshadow his life, and the accomplishments he
was achieving, the happiness he was finding in just being himself.
Brad stared at him a moment longer, before turning on his heels
and stalking out of the gym. Jensen hesitated just a moment longer, until
Matt blew him a kiss and sent him running after his fallen leader.
"Round one, Harding," Mel commented lightly. "You
got the testicular fortitude to go a full nine over this?"
'Testicular fortitude?" West blinked as he looked at her.
"Not like you to drop big words."
Mel smiled. "Should I dumb it down for you?" she asked
pleasantly. "Do you have the balls to see this through?"
"Well," West said sitting upright again, "what
can they do? I have a couple of weeks left and then I am done and then that's
it, I don't have to see him again. I think I can tough out a few weeks of
this."
"Good," Mel replied with a nod. "By the way..."
she pointed to where Peter was standing uncomfortably.
West looked up and over at Peter, who was shifting from foot
to foot and looking like he just wanted to leave. "Hey Peter," he
said easily, "'Sup?"
Peter opened his mouth, looking at the door Brad had retreated
through, and then back at West, realizing that he had absolutely nothing to
say. He turned a light shade of pink. He'd run through the entire school just
to warn West of... and now that was over he was standing there like an idiot.
"...I..." he stuttered, "...just..." he
swallowed again. "I was just going," he said as he darted off.
"He likes you," Mel commented idly.
"What makes you say that?" West asked, settling into
his chair again as the basketball games began again around the gym.
"Nah," Matt disagreed, "they hate each other."
"I don't hate him," West replied, and turned back
to Mel, "we just don't get on."
"Oh, I see," Mel said, her dark eyes sparkling in
amusement.
* * *
Peter was elbow-deep in flour when Blake finally said something
to him.
Third-period Home Economics had been one disaster after another
for the two boys. Mrs. Knowles, a warm woman vaguely reminiscent of a stereotypical
grandmother, had tried everything in her power to teach the two of them how
to cook, only to discover a completely hopeless cause in the pair of them.
Her solution to this had been to pair them up and have them
work on simpler recipes, hoping that combined they might actually pass the
course. Unfortunately, instead of twice the success, she usually ended up
with two times the disasters.
"So, I heard you saw what went on this morning between
Brad and West," Blake said, looking across the workstation into the bowl
of what was supposed to be bread. "You're kneading that wrong."
"It says to do this in the book!" Peter replied, folding
the dough over again. "Yeah, I saw, nothing happened; West stood up to
Brad and Brad backed off."
"Yeah," Blake replied, taking some more water and
tossing it into the bowl, over Peter's hands.
"Hey!" Peter looked up accusingly, "watch it."
"Sorry," Blake looked into the bowl again. "Do
you think they're going to fight?"
"No," Peter said absently, "school's nearly done,
and West's got half the team backing him up."
"Yeah, but I heard Brad's got the other half, 'cause they
aren't happy having... having a... you know..."
Peter stopped his kneading and looked up at Blake. "A what?"
he asked angrily.
Blake blinked at the reaction, and frowned, "A gay guy
as captain."
"So what?" Peter folded his arms, forgetting about
the flour and dough on them as he accidentally smeared his shirt. "Why
can't West lead the team, where does it say in the hockey rule book you have
to be straight?"
Blake again blinked at the reaction. "You know..."
his voice dropped, "I'm gay, right?" His blue eyes searched Peter's
face.
Peter stared in shock a moment, before bending back to his kneading.
"Oh..." he said softly.
"Yeah," Blake said, "so, I mean, I'm all for
West being captain. He's a great guy."
"Y-you like West?" Peter asked again, all elements
of his shyness returning as he suddenly wished he were elsewhere.
"Well, we went out," Blake said conspiratorially,
his voice dipping even lower. "We went on a date on Friday."
"How's it coming boys?" Mrs Knowles asked walking
into the small lab, one of three that occupied the modified classroom.
"Good," Blake looked up.
Mrs Knowles stared at the pair, Peter with white handprints
on his shirt, and Blake with a streak of flour in his hair. She shook her
head knowingly. "Try to get at least some of the flour into the bowl,
eh?" she laughed, as she walked back out of the lab and crossed to her
desk.
Blake grinned as he slipped his thin hand into the bag of flour
and pulled out a bit to flick at Peter. Peter for his part returned fire with
a spoonful of water. Both grinned as they tried to complete the assignment,
knowing full well they were doomed from the outset.
"You had a date with West?" Peter asked curiously,
darting a glance to check that Mrs Knowles hadn't seen the horseplay going
on behind her back.
"Yeah, he took me on the river," Blake said, idly
flipping through the cook book. "It was cool, and kind of romantic, but..."
"But?" Peter asked looking up.
Blake looked up suddenly, a curious smile on his face, "Why
are you suddenly so interested?"
"N-no reason," Peter flushed red as he went back to
his bowl.
Blake looked over at him. "Are you...?" he asked in
surprise.
"I never said that!" Peter bit off, looking up startled.
"But..." Blake looked confused, "I mean you're
very..."
"Forget I asked," Peter said firmly. "It's nothing."
"Do you like me or something?" Blake asked in open
confusion.
"No, I said let's drop it, so let's drop it, okay?"
Peter insisted desperately.
"West!" Blake folded his arms triumphantly. "Ah-ha!"
"What part of drop it don't you...." Peter sighed,
"I'm not...it's just...I don't..."
"Well," Blake said smirking, "this is cool; why
didn't you tell me? We've been paired up together all semester..."
"I never said..." Peter replied, but Blake was ignoring
him.
"Well, this is really cool," Blake grinned. "What
are you doing after school? Want to hang out or something?"
"W-what?" Peter asked in surprise.
"Well," Blake shrugged, "we're almost friends,
and now we both just shared something about ourselves, I figure that kinda
means we are friends now, and friends hang out and..." His words were
spilling out rapidly, the excited sixteen-year-old giving in to his own enthusiasm.
"But I never..." Peter again tried to insist.
"Oh, right..." Blake replied, "the whole closet
thing... sorry, I'm just..." He sighed and grinned a little shyly. "It's
just I've kinda just wanted someone to talk about this stuff to, and I can't
talk to West, he's not..." he sighed, "our date didn't go well."
"Oh?" Peter asked carefully.
"Well, he just wasn't into it; you know when a guy just
isn't fully there..."
"Actually I don't know," Peter replied truthfully.
"You're still a virgin?" Blake asked with a grin.
Peter gaped and glanced about him to make sure no one was overhearing
their conversation. "No," he hissed. "Quiet, I never said I
was..."
"But you like guys," Blake insisted.
"Yes, but..." Peter stopped short when he heard himself
say it aloud.
Blake smirked triumphantly. "I knew it!" he whispered
grinning. "Anyway, West and I decided to just be friends, so you have
nothing to worry about if you want to ask him out."
"I'm not interested in West!" Peter shook his head.
"So, tonight after school," Blake continued, "your
place or mine?"
"I was kinda planning to go to my friend Will's place..."
Peter said hesitantly.
"Great!" Blake said, "I'm looking forward to
it."
