Rainbow High (22 page)

“Mom, that’s crap!” Nelson threw his keys onto the table. “Why can’t you just accept the fact that he doesn’t care?” She glanced around the room, averting her eyes. “That’s not true.”

“It
is
true! Why do you keep cal ing him? It’s like you do it just to hurt me—to remind me how worthless I am.”

“Nelson, how can you say that? I don’t do it to hurt you. But if you don’t listen to me, what am I supposed to do?”

“Try
trusting
me. Stop treating me like a kid. I’m almost eighteen.” His chin began to quiver. “If I make mistakes, then I make mistakes, okay?”

okay?”

“Not with your health,” his mom protested. “I won’t simply keep quiet.”

“Fine, then yel at me. Just stop trying to bring Dad into it.”

She tapped the arms of her chair, taking a deep breath. “Nelson, I don’t want you dating Jeremy. I can’t go on living this way.”

“You don’t have to,” Nelson answered. “He dumped me.”

“What do you mean?” She gave him a slant-eyed look.

“
D-u-m-p
,” he mumbled, feeling too drained to explain it. “Look it up.” In his room, he col apsed into bed. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Jeremy’s bright white briefs stil lying by the wal where he’d hurled them.

He stared at them, thinking. Should he throw them out?

He hauled himself out of bed and picked them up. On impulse he brought them to his face, inhaling. They stil smel ed laundry fresh. How could he toss them? They’d been a gift.

He careful y folded the briefs, laid them in his dresser, and closed the drawer as Atticus wandered in.

Nelson climbed onto his bed and Atticus jumped up after him. Within minutes they were both asleep.

The fol owing morning Kyle dressed for school, buttoning his shirt. On his desk the Princeton and Tech reply cards lay waiting. His eyes darted between them as he vacil ated.

Hadn’t he made his decision? But that was before Jason had kissed him in front of TV cameras—or at least
one
camera—and declared to the entire planet they were boyfriends. How could he abandon him now?

“Kyle!” his mom cal ed from the doorway. “You’re going to be late.“, She peered at his shirt. “Honey, your buttons!” Kyle glanced down at his misbuttoned shirt.

When he got downstairs, his mom handed him a Pop-Tart. He shoved it into his backpack, too nervous to eat anything. “Thanks!” He’d walked halfway down the block before he realized he’d forgotten the Princeton and Tech cards. Crud. Maybe he should put the whole thing aside til the afternoon . . . or til never.

He turned around and hurried back home, raced past his mom (“Forgot something!”), grabbed the cards and envelopes, and once more trotted down the street.

Beneath a weeping wil ow at the corner, the neighborhood mailbox loomed like an ominous four-legged creature.

Kyle slowed as he approached. From his jacket, he pul ed out the reply cards—one for Princeton and one for Tech. One to be marked

“Accept,” the other “Decline.”

His heart racing, he groped inside his pocket for a pen. With fingers trembling, he marked one decision, then the other, sealing them into their respective envelopes.

The iron box waited. Kyle wiped his brow and pul ed the door handle. The blue mouth gaped open. Kyle’s heart pounded. Taking a deep gulp of air, he dropped the envelopes onto the metal panel, and closing his eyes, let go. The door squealed, slamming with a bang.

Kyle let out his breath and opened his eyes again, an ache in the pit of his stomach.

Hurriedly he turned, running from the box, afraid to look back.

At school, prechampionship banners and posters stil plastered the wal s and bul etin boards. Students ran through the hal s, laughing and shouting in celebration.

But when they saw Kyle, they looked at him in a funny way.

Two girls he vaguely knew pushed one another toward him. “Kyle?” asked one with glitter cheeks, while her friend giggled next to her. “Is it true you’re Jason’s boyfriend?”

Kyle felt the blood rush into his face. Obviously the word had spread. Kyle had barely opened his mouth before another three girls crowded in, eager to hear his answer.

“Um, yeah,” he said, certain he’d turned red as ketchup. Though it felt neat getting the attention, it went total y against his shyness.

“Oh, my God!” shrieked the glitter girl.

“I think that’s
so
cool,” said a girl with multilayered beads.

But then another girl scrunched her nose. “What do you two
do
together, like in bed?” She sounded both repulsed and intrigued.

“Yeah!” the shrieker jumped in. “Which one of you is the girl?”

“That’s so disgusting,” said scrunch-nose.

Kyle shifted his feet. This was getting way too bizarre. “I’ve got to go,” he told them, and quickly scurried away.

During morning classes he slunk down in his seat, trying to hide behind his books.

In the hal between classes, he got the usual ’phobe slurs, but now new taunts were added.

“Hi, Mrs. Carril o!” a group of boys jeered as Kyle walked past. “Jason and you going to run for prom king and queen?” Kyle wanted to fold himself into a locker and lock himself in. Maybe Jason had been right not wanting to tel the whole world about their being boyfriends.

“What did you expect?” Nelson asked at lunch.

“Not this,” Kyle murmured, just as a boy swooped past with his tray.

“Hey, Meeks, I’m going to tel Jason you’re cheating on him!”

Kyle spun around. “Mind your own business!”

“Oh, yeah,” Nelson bit into his veggie burger. “That’l stop them.”

“Wel , what am I supposed to say?”

“It’s like this. . . .” Nelson put his burger down. “If you can’t think up a good comeback, then just smile and wave. But don’t let them get a rise out of you. That just eggs them on.”

Kyle picked a pepperoni off his pizza slice, tossing it aside. “Nothing ever turns out like you expect, does it?”

“Tel me about it.” Nelson began fussing with an earring. “So . . . Did you mail your Princeton acceptance?” Kyle nodded silently, trying to swal ow his bite of pizza.

“Oh,” Nelson said.

After that, neither of them said much more.

Kyle’s afternoon sucked as much as his morning, thanks to even more incredibly obnoxious comments.

Then as he was leaving calculus, he ran into Debra.

“Are you getting as much crap as I am?” she asked.

“Um . . .,” he stammered, trying to figure out if she was angry at him or at the harassment—or both. “Yeah, I’m getting a lot.” She groaned, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder. “This is
so
not the senior year I imagined.” Kyle froze, uncertain how to respond to her.
Please don’t let her start crying,
he thought.

“Um . . .” He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “I’m real y sorry.”

“Thanks.” She lifted her face up, her eyes tearless, thank God.

Adding to Kyle’s gratitude, Lance Lanier walked up. Jason had told Kyle about Lance and Debra. He was glad to see them together now. At least it helped him feel less guilty about Jason’s breakup with her.

When the day’s final bel rang, Kyle let out a whimper of jubilation. It was over, except for one thing. He needed to tel Jason he’d sent in his Princeton reply.

Did he dare walk over to Jason’s locker? He could imagine the taunts people would make at seeing them together. But it was bound to happen eventual y. May as wel get it over with.

“I’l be there in a few,” Jason was tel ing Corey.

Corey turned and saw Kyle. “How’s it going, man?” he said, and walked past.

“Hi,” Kyle replied. He wondered how the team was dealing with al this.

“Wha’s up?” Jason greeted him, snapping his lock shut.

Kyle leaned onto the neighboring locker and let out a breath, exhausted. “Your day suck as much as mine?”

“Not real y.” Jason smiled. “Mostly a lot of handshakes and celebrations.”

Kyle stared at him, incredulous. “No one’s hassled you about? . . .” He glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “About saying we’re boyfriends? About our kiss?”

Jason gave a shrug. “Coach said it hadn’t been the brightest thing to do. The guys on the team kind of hooted and whistled when I walked into the locker room. But they do that with everyone. It’s no big deal.”

Kyle listened, flabbergasted, shaking his head.

“Why?” Jason’s eyebrows rode up in concern. “What did they say to you?”

Kyle hesitated, feeling a little weird about repeating some of the stuff guys had said, feeling weirder about the fact that they’d said it to him and not to Jason, and feeling most weird that he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop them.

“Just stupid stuff,” Kyle final y said.

“Like what?” Jason insisted.

“Like cal ing me—” Kyle forced himself to say it “—your bitch.”

Jason’s eyes clouded an instant, then he squared his shoulders. “If anyone said that to me, I’d beat the crap out of them.” Though Kyle knew that was true, it made him feel like a wimp in comparison. He’d hoped for a little more sympathy.

“Wel ,” Kyle hissed, “that’s probably why they
didn’t
say it to you. Besides the fact that you’re school hero.” He rol ed his eyes.

Jason leaned back, studying him. “Hey, don’t take this out on me, Kyle. You’re the one who wanted to tel people about us.”

“And you didn’t?” Kyle retorted.

Jason clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening.

Kyle took a breath, trying to calm down before this whole stupid conversation escalated out of control. “Never mind,” Kyle said, holding his palms up. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He tried to focus on what he wanted to say. “I came here to tel you . . . this morning I sent in my acceptance to Princeton.”

As Kyle spoke he watched Jason’s jaw go slack and his shoulders fal .

“Today was the deadline,” Kyle explained softly. “I had to send it in. You told me I should go there, right?” Jason nodded silently, his eyes downcast.

Kyle swal owed the knot in his throat. “It was real y hard to do, Jason.”

“You did what you had to do, man.” Jason’s voice came out distant and hoarse. “Um, listen, I better go. The team’s having another celebration.”

Kyle wanted to shout, “Who cares about another stupid celebration?” But as Jason turned away, he saw the shimmer of pools forming at the rim of Jason’s eyes.

As Jason disappeared down the hal , Kyle wanted to run after him and . . . Do what? Shake Jason? Or wrap his arms around him? Unable to decide, Kyle turned and walked home alone.

At dinner he picked at his chipped beef and parted his peas and carrots into distinct piles.

“Honey, what’s the matter?” his mom asked, exchanging worried glances with his dad.

“Nothing. You’l be glad to know I sent in my Princeton acceptance today.”

“That’s a relief.” His dad smiled, lifting his wineglass. “You made the right decision, son.”

“That’s wonderful, honey,” his mom agreed.

“Can I be excused?” Kyle asked. “I’m not hungry.”

In his room he lay in bed, clutching a pil ow to his chest, thinking about Princeton and what it would be like to leave Jason. He barely noticed his mom come in and sit beside him.

“That was a big decision you made today.” She brought a hand to his forehead and gently stroked his hair.

Kyle nodded. “Mom? Did you always know Dad was ‘The One’?”

She cocked her head in a quizzical look. “Yes . . . and no. Only as I got to know him, over time. That’s real y the only way you get to know people.”

Kyle thought how he’d known Jason since freshman year. Four years was a long time . . . except they hadn’t actual y become friends until this past year, real y just a few months ago—not very long at al .

“Did you and Dad ever have to spend time apart before you got married?”

Kyle knew she must be guessing that he was thinking about Jason.

She nodded.” I didn’t see him for two years when he went to grad school.”

Kyle had known that, but he’d forgotten. “Were you ever afraid you might—you know—lose him?”

“Yes . . . and it hurt.” She glanced back at Kyle. “But that’s al part of trusting life. I think if two people are meant for each other, they’l end up together eventual y.”

Kyle studied her expression. Had she said that just to make him feel better? Or . . . could it possibly be true?

At the recognition dinner that Coach Cameron threw for the basketbal team, Jason put on a winning front. But behind the smile, his heart rampaged big-time.

He knew it was because of Kyle. But hadn’t he encouraged him to accept Princeton?

The fol owing day Jason trudged from one class to the other, barely able to pay attention. During government he didn’t even notice an office aide knock on the door and hand his teacher a note.

“Jason?” Mr. Porter signaled him forward. “Coach wants to see you.”

As Jason stepped down the tiled hal , he tried to imagine why Coach had cal ed him out of class.
Probably nothing important,
he tried to assure himself, hoping to calm the grinding in his stomach.

Coach was working at his desk as Jason tapped on the office doorway. Amid a stack of papers was an overnight mail envelope similar to the one in which his scholarship letter had arrived.

Coach glanced up. “Close the door, Carril o. Have a seat.”

Jason dropped into the vinyl chair, wiping the sweat from his hands.

Coach stared silently at him, his mouth somewhat open, and scratched his chin.

“What’s the matter?” Jason asked. “Is something wrong?”

Coach exhaled loudly. “This came for you.” He handed Jason the overnight envelope.

Jason slowly tore it open, his hand shaking a little. He pul ed out a letter from Tech. His heart began racing as he read down the page.

We regret to inform you that the scholarship previously offered to you has been rescinded, on the basis of the altercation in which you
were involved
. ..