Riding With Brighton(44)

“You’re right.” He grabs ahold of my hand. “You do an excellent job of hiding it. I wouldn’t have ever guessed that. You never appear to be anything but confident and totally comfortable. I’m sorry that people say that shit. I’m sorry that, I’m assuming, most of the people who say that shit are people I considered my friends.”

“I guess that’s part of the reason Molly hates you too—you know, guilt by association. They get to hear and see all the shit that people still feel the need to hold against me. Honestly, I don’t even know if it really bothers me, personally. I mean, I have enough people in my life who aren’t ignorant and who care about me no matter what. I could easily laugh it all off and feel bad that their lives are so sheltered, knowing that when they leave this small town and head to college, the tables are gonna flip and their ignorant asses are gonna be in the minority. They don’t get that. They can’t see how quickly the world around them is changing. I could easily just feel sorry for them and carry on with my life.

“But I think about all the other kids I see every day—the ones who are tormented because they’re too fat or too skinny or not pretty enough or, according to some of the more vicious girls, too pretty. Nico gets shit for being Asian. I mean, how fucked-up is that? And Molly is tortured on a daily basis for being weird. And Shaw….” I pause, shaking my head as I think about him. “Poor, too-nice-for-his-own-good Shaw, gets called a fag more than I do because he fits the stereotype and because he’s my friend.

“In the real world, being gay isn’t something to be ashamed of anymore. But what are all these other kids gonna do with the shit that’s been put on them? I mean, there’s no movement to support overweight kids or kids with acne. The whole thing just makes me depressed. Even the air in that school is oppressive.”

“Jesus. I can’t believe I was ever willing to be part of that,” Jay says, and I can hear the guilt and sadness in his voice.

“What are you talking about? I watch you in that place—you’re always nice to everyone, and I’ve seen you stick up for the underdog more than once.”

“Maybe. But I could have done more. At the very least, I could have told all those guys to fuck off and found new friends.”

I see Shaw in the backyard searching for something, and I suppose it’s probably me. “Looks like I gotta get back in there,” I reluctantly tell Jay, taking my hand from his and standing, before pulling him up.





Chapter Eleven


Jay



WHEN WE walk back into that party, I feel like I’m watching a movie—specifically, a montage in one of those teen comedies where the camera pans in slo-mo through all the debauchery. A drunk girl flashes her bra to a bunch of horny guys. A group of heavy-lidded kids suck on a water bong. Collette, my ex, holds court over her minions. Someone’s already passed out on the stairs. Shots are being downed at the makeshift bar. The too-fat, too-skinny, too-ugly, too-pretty kids are on the outskirts, trying to go unnoticed yet desperate for someone to talk to them. And Mack. Mack is running his big mouth at Jones.

By the time we finally reach the front of the room, I realize this whole thing is ridiculous, and I seriously don’t care about any of it anymore. I will gladly receive the fuck-off from all these people and join the ranks of the too kids. Too fucking gay. And yeah, those words have me feeling all proud.

I focus on Brighton, who’s up on stage now being all sexy with his guitar, and I try to tune the rest of the world out until we can get the hell out of here. But I quickly realize that’s not gonna be possible because the insults Mack is screaming at Jones are loud enough that I can hear them over the music. And the words I’m hearing loud and clear are “that fucking fag.”

I turn and make my way to the back of the room where the crowd is gathering, anticipating a fight. The guys I hang with have chosen sides, and most of them are on Mack’s, but Jones has a lot of other supporters outside of our group of friends.

From what I’m getting, Mack is freaking the hell out because “that fag” Brighton is not only here but the paid entertainment. And because Jones was apparently defending him after we left the restaurant. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that Jones suggested Mack might be a closeted gay himself, which I’m guessing is the real source of this testosterone overload he’s displaying right now.

I’m pissed and feeling my own overdose of testosterone as I get in the middle of them and shove Mack hard enough that he stumbles backward into Brian. “What the hell is your problem, man?” I scream at him.

He sneers at me and lunges, which I’m expecting, and my reflexes are faster since I’m sober and he’s drunk, so when I move out of his way he stumbles into Jones, who easily pushes him off. Mack turns to me again after he’s regained his footing. He shoves a finger at me and says, “My problem is that you’re hanging around a homo, and this queer-loving cocksucker—” He pauses to indicate Jones. “—is defending your faggot ass.”

“Keep saying that ignorant shit, asshole, and I will beat you into a coma.”

“You can’t handle the truth, can you, gay boy?”

“You can’t handle the truth,” I rage, shoving my hands into his chest and stalking after him. “Yeah, I’m fucking gay, but at least I can admit it. What about you, huh? When are you gonna start admitting that you’re nothing but an asshole who’s overcompensating for his secret desires and his small penis by pounding everyone else into the ground because it’s the only way you can convince anyone that you’re anything but a scared, weak, confused little boy?” I stop when I have him backed into the wall and we’re in a face-off. The room has gone silent. The band isn’t even playing anymore.