Go Your Own Way (11 page)

“Game’s about to start.” She offered him the hat and Will took it. Oyster yipped and darted upstairs now that the door was open. “I made cavatappi with vodka sauce. Ben’s promised not to ask about your sex life, if it exists.”

“That’s never stopped him before.” Will put the cap on his head and folded down the top corner of page ninety-three in
The Count of Monte Cristo.
It was a decent book so far, but he wished they’d started with something he’d already read. Then he wouldn’t have to meet with Lennox before next Friday. He could spend that time writing up the project instead of reading the book. “Can I kick him in the face if he does?”

“I’ll even put on my stillettos and join you,” Karen said. At Will’s frown, she added, “Yes, you can have your own pair of ass-kicking heels. If they make them in your size. Your feet are like continents.”

Will followed her upstairs and enjoyed a nice, question-free dinner and baseball game. Ben was still looking at him funny, but Will could ignore him. Almost everyone looked at him oddly.

The next morning, Will headed to school determined to smack down any advances from Lennox. His dream was proof that he needed to do that. That was something he could never have. Not with Lennox anyway, no matter how many times he fantasized or wished for it. He was lucky right from the first bell. Mr. Robinette put Lennox on the xylophone across the room behind the flutes and far away from him. The piece they were playing was new, and, while everyone else was eager to learn it, Lennox was doing everything he could to dismantle their rhythm.

“Lennox, I put you on the xylophone so you could play it, or at least try to,” Mr. Robinette said as he brought the rest of the class to a halt. “That’s the third time you haven’t come in for your part. You said you could read music.”

Click click click.

Lennox snapped his tongue ring against his teeth and shrugged. Mr. Robinette told everyone to take a rest as he stood and approached Lennox in the back corner. Usually, everyone would have conversed, but instead they all watched Lennox. See­ing what stunt he would pull was fast becoming daily entertainment.

“It’s fine if you’ve never read music before,” Mr. Robinette said to Lennox. “Really, a lot of drummers who have chops have never learned to read sheet music. I can give you some lessons a few days after school.”

“I know how to read it,” Lennox said. He tapped one of the mallets on a xylophone bar. “I don’t need your help.”

“Then
play
it. I won’t give you the part if you aren’t reliable. You won’t stay in this class if you refuse to play.”

Will expected the xylophone to crash to the floor or for Lennox to shove people aside on his way out of the room. To his surprise, Lennox scowled as he plucked up the mallets and played.

A beautiful, poppy tune bounced and rose, springing up through Will’s ears and settling in his chest. Lennox kept his eyes on the sheet music, his hands moving effortlessly across the xylophone as he finished the last bar with a flourish. Half the class clapped as the last note faded; the others continued to stare. Will swallowed and tried not to catch Lennox’s eye. If only Lennox talked and acted the way he’d just played: as if he’d done it a million times, something so natural to him it was like a heartbeat. Will couldn’t dream of playing that well even if he spent his entire life practicing.

“That was… great,” Mr. Robinette said. His eyes were bright as he smiled and nodded. “Perfect. A little sharper on the accents, okay? Make them pop.”

“Whatever.”

Class continued, this time with Lennox playing. Only he wasn’t playing as he just had. He came in at the wrong moments, banged on the wrong keys and made a show of not playing as well as he just had. It was as if he was taunting Mr. Robinette, and, by the end of class, everyone else was annoyed, too. Mr. Robinette held Lennox back, and Will left quickly with Natasha. For the rest of the day, Will’s friends talked of nothing else and ignored him when he told them not to call Lennox his boyfriend. Because they weren’t boyfriends. That was a fantasy. One Will was sure Lennox didn’t share with him. Will doubted if Lennox had ever been given such a title by anyone. He’d never shown any interest in commitment.

Mr. Robinette separated them at detention that day. Will cleaned out the lockers in the main band room, whereas Lennox vacuumed and cleaned up the practice rooms. At five o’clock, Will checked out with Mr. Robinette and headed home. It was a little weird to not spend his entire day fending off Lennox, but on Tuesday, he wished he had Monday back.

Will arrived in English class with the bell and took his seat. Everyone glanced his way, but when Mr. Lorren didn’t comment, they turned back to the front. Lennox, however, brushed a strand of dirty blond hair behind Will’s ear.

“Looking a little flustered, babe,” Lennox said as Mr. Lorren wrote on the chalkboard. “Got a little caught up thinking about me in the shower this morning, did you?”

Will turned to Lennox. He
had
had another dream last night, much like the first, but Lennox couldn’t know that. Even Karen had called him on how long his shower had been. “I forgot—”

“Condoms for later,” Lennox said. “We’ll need a few, I’m sure.”

“Mr. Osborne, turn around. Mr. McAvoy, hands to yourself.”

Will turned around and yanked his desk forward as far as he could, but the distance didn’t last.

“Everyone, I’m going to give you about half an hour to work in your pairs for the first novel assignment. The schedule,” Mr. Lorren said with a wave of his hand, “is on the board. Some of you are a ways off still, but this assignment has multiple parts and you’ll be leading class discussions on your day. Decide how the workload will be split, exchange phone numbers and emails and figure out a time when you can meet. This isn’t something you can do in one night.”

Will scowled. Everyone desk-hopped to sit with their partners, and Will found his desk being pulled backward. A strong pair of arms looped around his chest as Lennox hooked his chin over Will’s shoulder.

“Get off,” Will said, but Lennox only laughed. “Seriously, I don’t want a perverted hug from you.” He shouldered out of Lennox’s embrace and yanked his desk around to face Lennox. “When can you meet?”

“To have fun with you? Any time as long as you lose this shirt.”

Will slapped away Lennox’s wandering hand and gritted his teeth.

“Mr. McAvoy, hands to yourself. I won’t give you another warning.”

Will sighed as Lennox sat back in his seat. “We’ll meet in the library. What day is best for you next week?”

“The library?” A slow, wide smile spread over Lennox’s face. “I’ve always wanted to fuck someone bent over a table. You might be a little too loud for a library though. I bet you’re a screamer.”

“You won’t ever find out,” Will said. He dug the assignment packet out of his backpack and slapped it down on his desk. “What day, asshole? I’ve got newspaper club on Mondays and baseball conditioning on Wednesdays. Fridays are out, too.”

Lennox kept smiling and didn’t answer. Infuriated, Will flipped to the page detailing their assignment and divided their tasks. Then he heard a scraping sound, as if someone was carving into a tree trunk. He glanced up and found Lennox slicing into his desk with a pocketknife. Within seconds, the entire class had stopped working to stare at him. Several students hurried to the front of the room. Mr. Lorren picked up his desk phone and called for Principal Hardy and security. Lennox was escorted out and Will was left with the dull, nervous murmur of his classmates and an assignment he couldn’t do on his own.

Lennox spent all morning in Hardy’s office. The vice principal came and went. Hardy came in once too, and the security officer stayed right outside the door, staring in at him. It was boring, and by eleven, his stomach rumbled with hunger. Last night, he’d eaten his last stale bagel and a mostly brown banana. School breakfast was out of the question for the rest of the week. Water and electric bills were due yesterday, and until his grandfather put more money in his account, he only had the money to buy lunch.

At a quarter to one, Hardy returned to his office looking ruffled and sweaty but pleased. He shut the door and sat on the edge of his desk in front of Lennox.

“Mostly good news,” Hardy said as Lennox’s stomach bellowed. “You aren’t being expelled, and because you only used the knife for vandalism and didn’t harm or threaten anyone, nobody can press charges. Well, technically the school could ask for damages, but for now, we aren’t. I’ve also talked with your grandfather. He’s helped the whole incident along nicely. You’ll serve your detention in our lockdown room instead of with Mr. Robinette this afternoon.”

“Charming,” Lennox said. “What a lovely picture you’ve painted me. How much money did he throw at you to keep you playing nice?”

Hardy sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I get it, okay? I’m the principal and the bad guy. But I
am
trying to help. Graduating—completing this part of your education—is important for your future. It gives you a better chance at making a life for yourself. Do you know how many dropouts we have every year around here? Boys who think they’re too good to finish school when they can already get minimum wage jobs in town. And girls who date them and end up pregnant. They all want to be adults but they aren’t doing anything to help themselves make a good run for adulthood. Don’t you want more for yourself than living paycheck to paycheck in a trailer?” He picked up a stack of papers and shuffled through them. “You’ve still got another week of detention from last week. That’ll start tomorrow and end next Tuesday in lockdown. You’ll also serve in-school suspension through Monday.”

Lennox snorted and stood up with the lunch bell. At least, he thought it was the lunch bell. It was easy to lose track of all the bells when he was trapped in the office. “Fine. Detention and a week of missing the classes you’re so adamant that I pass to graduate. You know, I’ve never understood that. Suspending kids and making classes harder by missing stuff. That only makes the problem worse.”

“Rules have consequences,” Hardy said. “That’s the nature of the system. Come on. I’ll show you where the suspension and detention rooms are.”

A short tour of an unfamiliar part of the school fol­lowed. Detention was served in a windowless room that was squeezed between the cafeteria and the gymnasium, and the sus­pen­sion room was part of the guidance office down the main hall. Hardy signed him up for his week and talked a lot to the man who seemed to be in charge. Lennox didn’t lis­ten. His eyes were on the full cafeteria he could just see down the hallway. A loud rumble from his stomach caught Hardy’s attention.

“Go get something to eat,” Hardy said. “That’s D lunch and it’s almost over.”

Lennox bolted out of the room and headed into the empty lunchroom. The lunchroom workers were already cleaning up, but one woman shuffled forward. So far, she was the only other black person he’d met in town.

“All we’ve got left is cold, sugar.” She pulled an empty pan off the line. “Better eaten than thrown out,” she said when he gaped at all of the food: a heap of fries, mixed vegetables and three pieces of garlic bread—and slice after slice of pizza.

“I’ll take whatever’s left.” His stomach gave another groan that could be heard over the clanging and chatter of the workers cleaning up. Lennox took the tray gratefully and handed over his lunch card. After a quick swipe, the woman ducked down and pulled out a big piece of cake.

“Here. On the house. You look like you need a good meal.”

Before Lennox could say anything, she disappeared into the kitchen. A few of the other workers gave him looks, but when nobody said anything, Lennox added the piece of cake to his tray. One seat in the corner was not coated in anything sticky, so he sat there and wolfed down his meal. It was cold, and the fries were dry and flavorless, but his stomach stopped aching for the first time since dawn. Hardy arrived just as he finished and escorted him to the suspension room. Lennox took a seat at one of the desks and tried to get comfortable. Nobody else was there, not even a teacher to watch over him. The vice principal’s office connected to the room, but she was on the phone.

Lennox kicked back and shut his eyes. He had another hour and a half before he had to go to detention. A nap would be nice, if he could manage it. Nothing else for him to do here. After he’d dozed for an hour, the announcements woke him up, and Lennox slumped off to the detention room for another two hours of sitting. It wasn’t enjoyable, but at least he could sleep in peace. Nobody was trying to break down his door or shouting insults at him.

In the detention room, Lennox recognized the teacher at the desk: Coach Davis, his weight training teacher. She was also the person who had pulled him and Otto apart from their fight the first day. She was a lot bigger than Lennox, with short spiky hair and a whistle around her neck.

“Hello, Lennox.”

Lennox handed her the slip Hardy had given him earlier and waited as she read it over.

“Pick a seat,” she told him. “No horsing around, no getting up without raising your hand for permission. Got it?”

Lennox grunted and picked a seat next to the door, far away from her. He was early. Outside the door, footsteps thundered and people shouted down the hall. For ten minutes, other kids trickled in and picked seats. Lennox recognized a few of them: a red-haired girl from his French class, and another girl who always chomped on cotton candy-scented bubble gum. She sat behind him in calculus and the smell and smacking sound as she chewed made him think of baseball games and carnivals. A few jock-looking types came in, and then a few kids with dirty jeans and tattered shirts with the sleeves ripped off. Lennox had noticed a lot of that style around here. It was very different from the kids at Lancaster or back in Richmond. No popped collars or artfully ripped jeans here.

The bell to start afternoon activities rang, and the door creaked open one more time. A pair of dusty boots appeared. One of them kicked the leg of Lennox’s desk.

“That’s my seat, fag,” Michael Patterson said as Lennox looked up. Another boy was behind him with a face so full of zits that it looked like a rash. “Haven’t they expelled you yet for contaminating the school?”

“If anyone’s contagious, it’s your buddy here,” Lennox said as one of the boy’s zits oozed. “Your cheek’s gushing jizz, by the way.”

“Michael, Steven, stop loitering and come sign in.” Coach Davis waved them forward. Michael glowered at Lennox. Steven wiped his cheek on his arm and frowned at the pus and blood stain.

Lennox tried to get comfortable again, but just as he was shut­ting his eyes and getting ready to try a nap, the two seats to his left screeched on the linoleum and his desk was bumped and almost toppled. With a foot on the floor and a quick catch, Lennox righted his desk and saw Michael and Steven. They were smirking; Steven’s cheek was still bleeding.

“Oh, sorry,” Michael said in a voice that told Lennox he wouldn’t be napping today. He grinned again as Lennox turned away. “So, I gotta ask. Did you get a normal dick or a darkie one? I bet it’s got a sprig of cotton poking out of the end.”

It took all of Lennox’s strength not to hit him. But he’d heard things like this all of his life. Racial slurs and remarks had followed him since he stepped out of his front door on the first day of kindergarten. Hell, they had followed him out of his mother’s womb. Hitting Michael Patterson would only give them another excuse to punish him, or arrest him. Any harm he did would come right back to him tenfold.

“What a halfro,” Steven said as Michael continued to laugh at him. “Even his hair can’t pick a race. Look at those fucking curls. You’re such a dick-sucking freak.”

“Funny. Really witty, all this interest you two seem to have in my dick. Got a craving?”

Michael’s lips curled and Steven wiped at his cheek again. It was still oozing, only blood now, and Lennox was pleased to see some of it was on his shirtfront, too.

“We don’t want anything to do with you. God will protect us from your sin—”

“Oh, blah blah, and I enjoy a thick cock in my mouth,” Lennox said. The boys squirmed. “If you don’t want to hear it, fuck off.”

“God’s going to—”

“Be really pleased with the pair of you. You’re both fantastic at that whole ‘love thy neighbor’ thing.”

Michael and Steven were silent for a few moments before Michael spoke up again. “So which one was it? Did your daddy like that black pussy, or was your mom into black dicks? I bet it was him. You had to live in a nigger’s womb to come out looking like you.”

The desk tipped over and Michael went reeling onto the desk behind him. Steven ducked away as Lennox leaped over his desk and tried to grab Michael. To hit him, to kick him, to get at whatever he could reach before someone stopped him. Nobody talked about his mother like that and got away with it. They could say their stupid shit about him, about his strange-looking hair, his heritage and his sexuality. He could deal with that. But his mother couldn’t. Not anymore.

“McAvoy!” Coach Davis charged into the mess, scattering students and hoisting Lennox off of Michael before he could land one hit. “What the hell’s going on here?”

She lifted Lennox easily, but he struggled with all his might. Just one good hit: That was all he’d need. One swift, sharp kick to this asshole’s balls to make sure he never had a chance to reproduce.

“Everyone but you three, out! Into the hall!”

The cotton candy-gum girl raise a tentative hand. “But Coach Davis—”

“Out, Bethany, while I handle this. If any of you run off, I’ve got your names on my list, and it’ll be suspension.” Coach Davis ripped the door open and the others shuffled out, still staring over their shoulders at Lennox.

Coach Davis wrestled with Lennox for several minutes. Finally, when he was panting and in a headlock, he gave up and scowled at Michael.

“He’s a lunatic—” Steven began, but Coach Davis cut him off.

“And I’m wearing a tiara and a poodle skirt,” Coach Davis said. “Front office, McGuire, Patterson. And clean up your face before you get there. You look like you’ve smeared ketchup all over it. Are you done?”

Lennox twisted as she loosened her grip, but she waited for him to nod before she let go. Steven and Michael shot her mutinous looks as they left. Coach Davis dragged him to a chair.

“You have got to stop this crap,” she said. “What good’s any of this fighting doing you?”

He crossed his arms and didn’t answer. What the hell did she know about anything? She, with her perfectly pale skin and her shiny little wedding ring. She had it easy, so easy. Lennox didn’t even dare hope for a chance—an existence—like that. It would never happen. Everything his life had been was littered across the last decade and nobody had ever tried to help clean it up.

Coach Davis rubbed her face and neck as she sat down. “I’m sure he said something stupid. He’s never known how to watch his damn mouth or be nice. But that’s no excuse for attacking him. You’re lucky you didn’t land any punches, kid, since you’re already gunning for expulsion. Cool off.”

Lennox slouched down and took a few deep breaths. “Another week of detention or more suspension?”

She eyed him for a moment. “Neither. But if you get a third strike with me, you aren’t coming back to this school.” She stood up and straightened her shirt. “Maybe it’s more appealing to spend all day here instead of at home. I don’t know. But if you keep going, you and that ankle monitor are going to end up some­where I’m sure you don’t want to be again. Got it?”

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever. Do we understand each other?”

Lennox bit his lip and nodded.

“Then start
thinking
, okay? I know Patterson’s a little ass, but don’t egg him on.” She sighed and waved him toward the door. “Go on. Get out of here so I can get this room back in order. You’re back tomorrow.”

Lennox grabbed his backpack and left. The kids in the hallway darted aside as he passed, whispering and staring. He’d made one hell of a name for himself this past week, and hopefully it would be enough to make them leave him alone. Well, mostly alone. Michael and Steven sat by the door to Hardy’s private office. They looked furious, but neither of them spotted him as he ducked out the main door. There, Lennox found something worse than Michael and Steven.

Will was in the parking lot, still wearing his baseball uniform, but he wasn’t alone. A small group of boys in football jerseys were gathered around him. When one of the boys made a grab for Will’s backpack, Lennox hurried toward them.

“Come on, queer,” one of the boys said as another shoved Will forward. “What? Don’t you want to hang with the boys? I thought you were into that sort of thing.”

Will stumbled slightly and knocked the boy right back. “I don’t go for morons like you. I like boys with class. You know, the ones who have brains in their heads instead of pudding?”

Lennox took a quick count. Six of them. He dove under an arm and reached the middle of the circle. The football players eyed him nervously.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Lennox said to Will. Will glared at him, too, but Lennox could see the fear in his eyes all the same. “Come on, we’ve got blow jobs to share.”

He glanced at the boy who had been talking. He hadn’t spoken to him before, but the boy on his left was familiar. Otto hadn’t seemed the type to bully a gay kid, and he and Will talked a little during band, but here he was with his teammates. “Unless you want to join us? I won’t say no to a party. Though I’ve got to say, you’re going to have to wash under your foreskin first. I’ve seen you in the locker room and—”

“You’ve been fucking peeking at me? I don’t want your homo ass looking at me!”