Like a Love Story(47)

“You’re sick,” he says as he finally finds the strength to push me off him.

My body rolls toward the wall, but I’m not done.

I swing a punch at his face—and miss.

Then I grab ahold of his leg and try to yank him toward me. “You’re right. I’m sick with AIDS, and I’m gonna bite you and give it to you. Like a vampire.” I flare my teeth and go for his bare ankle.

“Art, stop, please stop, you’re scaring me!” Judy pleads.

I pull Darryl’s foot toward my face. He pushes his leg up, kicking my chin hard in the process. My teeth hit my lips. My head doubles back, hits the wall with a thud. The camera swings to the left and smacks against the wall. My eyes flicker with the shock of pain.

When I open them, I see blood on my hand and on my shirt. We are surrounded by people now. Students. Teachers. Most of them look horrified. Annabel de la Roche and her friends look at me with pity in their eyes, which is even worse than horror. Nobody but Judy will stand anywhere near me. She holds me close, some of my blood on her fingernails, like polish. She keeps whispering Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, and then manages an Are you okay? I pull my camera close. Remove the lens cap. The lens is cracked. I let out an audible gasp of sorrow. I would rather lose teeth than my camera. Judy whispers that a camera can be replaced. I know that, but THIS camera can’t be replaced.

“This is insane,” Darryl says. “You don’t . . . do you really have it? Do you have AIDS?”

“Fuck you,” I say.

“That’s not an answer,” Saadi says. “Just tell him if you have it, dude.”

“Go to hell, dude,” I say, turning to Saadi. “We study together, you know me, and you just stand there while your sociopath of a friend . . .”

“Yeah, right, I’m the sociopath,” Darryl says, cutting me off. “You’re messed up.”

Our principal, Mrs. Starr, approaches with a look of fear on her face. “What in the world happened here?” she asks. “Are you all right, Art?”

“He attacked me,” Darryl says. “He jumped me and said he was going to give me AIDS.”

“Is that true?” Mrs. Starr asks.

“It’s true,” Saadi says. “I saw the whole thing.” Yeah, and he did nothing.

“Yup,” I say to Mrs. Starr. “Every word is true.”

“We’ll discuss that after we take you to the nurse.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “It’ll heal.”

Mrs. Starr crouches close to me, but not too close. She won’t come near my blood. I think about what a big deal it was when Princess Diana shook the hand of an AIDS patient without gloves. Seriously, this is the world we’re living in. A world where people are afraid to shake hands with gay people.

“Art,” she says, “you need to see the nurse.”

“I was in the middle of the first meeting of my affinity group,” I say. “And I plan to finish it.”

“I saw the flyers,” Mrs. Starr says. “That group isn’t school sanctioned and therefore can’t meet on school property. But if you want to start a sexual minorities alliance, I would sponsor it.”

“Oh, would that make you feel more comfortable?” I ask.

“It would certainly have more members,” she says.

“I’m a member of Art’s affinity group,” Judy says proudly, and I love her for it.

“I don’t need numbers,” I add. “I need passion. I need people to CARE that we’re dying.” I look at all the shocked students staring down at me, like I’m some zoo animal. They’d throw peanuts at me if they could. I scream out at them. “I’m starting an ACT UP affinity group at this school. We need to fight back and end AIDS, and show the world that young people in this country give a shit. Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Art, let’s get out of here,” Judy whispers. “They’re not worth it.”

It’s when the crowds start to part, that I see him standing in the back, behind a group of kids. Reza. He looks shell-shocked, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. Or maybe he’s looking at Judy. I don’t know. But he doesn’t move, and I want to shake him, make the person I know is underneath all that fear break free. I want to kiss him and kill him at the same time.

“Okay, clear out, everyone,” Mrs. Starr says. “The show is over, and so is lunch. Get to your afternoon classes.” As the crowd starts to disperse, she looks at me once more. “There is no ACT UP group at this school, Art. And you’re looking at a lot of detention.”

“Whatever,” I say, having run out of eloquent things to say.

I watch as Darryl, Saadi, and their complicit buddies walk past Reza. “What are you staring at, ayatollah?” Darryl asks Reza as they pass him, and Reza says nothing, and Saadi says nothing.

Eventually, there’s no one left but me and Judy, and Reza, who approaches us. He doesn’t come too close, though, and this distance feels like a dagger being plunged into me.

“Are you guys okay?” Reza asks.

“Do I look okay?” I snap back.

“Jesus, Art, he’s not the enemy,” Judy says.

“Anyone who isn’t a friend is an enemy,” I say.