Riding With Brighton(3)

And then I realize what I said.

There’s something you should know about Brighton—he’s gay. And I just told him I preferred Bics. Which I now realize sounds a whole hell of a lot like dicks, and then I proceeded to stick the Bic in my mouth. Fuck.

What am I supposed to say to that? I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t offend him—eww… dicks are so gross—so all I can really do is laugh.

“You got a dirty mind, Jay.”

“I obviously wasn’t thinking the same thing you were,” I assure him.

“I think Freud would disagree. Sounds like an issue you’re gonna have to take up with your subconscious.”

“Thanks, Doctor, but trust me, that’s not where any part of my mind was trying to go.”

I look up to the front of the classroom when Ms. Case claps her hands. “Okay,” she says with a bright smile, “grab your partner and get to work.”

I look over at Brighton, who has been my assigned partner since the beginning of the year. “Did you hear anything she said?”

“No, I was distracted by your Bic.” He laughs, and before I have a chance to defend my actions, again, he’s got a hand on Missy Norwick’s shoulder.

She turns around and smiles at him. It’s like the girls in this school can’t accept the fact that no matter how hard they try, it’s never gonna happen with him. I guess that’s not entirely their fault—the kid is a shameless flirt. “Hey, beautiful,” he says to her, and she immediately turns a shade of red. I roll my eyes.

“Hey,” she croaks.

“Jay and I were busy trying to find me a pen….”

“Oh,” she says, immediately moving to her bag, “I have all kinds of pens.”

“No, it’s okay, sweetie. Jay gave me his….” He pauses to inspect the pen. “Uni-ball? What the hell, Jay?” he asks with an amused smirk. “I mean, Jesus, how unfair is that? You get a Bic, and I get a damn uni-ball?” he pauses to laugh and stare at me, probably enjoying the discomfort on my face. He looks back at Missy and says, “The pen’s covered. But we missed the instructions.”

“Oh, um… we’re supposed to be answering the questions on page forty-five.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” He rubs her shoulder one more time before scooting his desk over to mine. “Page forty-five,” he tells me.

“I caught that,” I mutter, staring at my book, which is already open.

He props an arm on my desk and leans into me so he can get a look. “Jesus, are we ever gonna move past the Great Depression? I mean, seriously, it’s depressing, right?”

I laugh at his corny joke despite myself. “Don’t worry, I got it. You can spare yourself the agony. Wouldn’t want you getting sad.”

“Naw, I’ll help you. What’s the first question?”

I look down at my book. “List and explain at least three ways the collapse of the economy contributed to the increased mortality rate of children.”

“Oh, hell no. Dead babies? Come on.” Brighton opens his notebook. “Hit me up at question two.”

I snicker then go about writing down the answer, which Ms. Case covered in class yesterday. When I’m done, I glance over at Brighton, who’s sketching or, as he refers to it, “doodling” in his notebook. He generally chooses to doodle instead of take notes during class, and I’m generally more interested in what he’s drawing than what Ms. Case is saying. It’s a skill I don’t have, so it’s kind of fascinating to watch his seemingly random series of lines take form. It looks like he’s drawing some kind of snake woman with a couple of heads. “What’s that?”

“A frenzied woman from whose lips the gods speak,” he says in a throaty, dramatic voice.

“Huh?”

He pauses to glance up at me and smile. “An oracle. Unlike this boring—despite the entertaining and phallic company—class, my art history class is pretty interesting.”

I didn’t even know art history was a class option. But even so, I wouldn’t have taken it. That would be too weird. It might even be straight-up gay. But Brighton’s the kind of kid who does what he wants and doesn’t worry about what his friends think. Actually, all his friends are interesting, so any art is probably pedestrian in their world.

But really, I guess I don’t actually know much about the kid besides the fact that he’s different from everyone else in this school, and at the same time has a level of confidence that borders on offensively cocky. And that talking to him is seriously the only interesting, unpredictable part of my day. Plus, he’s witty and overly nice to everyone, which are two things that are critically endangered, bordering on extinction, in this school. And because of that, everyone seems to want to be around him. Or, I guess, everyone but the people I hang out with. God, I really have to get a grip. I’m losing my mind.

“Got anything interesting going on this weekend?” I ask in a lame attempt to engage him. I mean, if the kid is gonna be my role model, I should know something about him, right?

“There’s always something interesting going on so, yeah, I do.” He smiles at me again.

“In this town?” I ask with a doubtful eyebrow raised.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah, of course.” His tone makes me feel stupid. Like there really is something interesting going on in this town, which really is not possible. “What about you?”