"Powell and Me" is a work of fiction about love and sex between teen boys. No resemblance to persons living or dead is intended. If you are underage, or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, leave now. Some of the activities described in this story may cause injury or transmit diseases, including HIV.
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Powell and Me 9
My shoulder still hurt in the morning, so I carried my backpack. (Don't worry Dad, I'll be fine.) I took my seat up front again, not knowing what would greet me at Wilson street. Would I be dragged from the bus by a torch-wielding mob (should I make a will?) even though it's morning and the sun is shining?
The bus pulled up to the Wilson street stop. Dodger got on, then Danny, and finally Snake. Horse wasn't there. None of them even glanced at me. The bus pulled away as if the day was perfectly normal. But there were whispers in the hall at school, and some guys looked at me and then snapped their gazes away. Holding my lunch tray, I hesitated next to Jen Legato's table.
"Sit, boy, sit!" Shana laughed, like she was training a dog. "Stay! Guess you're not a little fairy, after all."
"Hi, Eddie!" Jen grinned, and pulled her tray to the side a little so I could sit next to her. "How's it going?"
"One laugh after another," I sighed.
"I've got that phone number for you," Lucy said, handing me a scrap of paper. "Does that cheer you up a little?"
I smiled. "Yeah! Thanks!"
"Just be sure you use it, okay?"
"Don't worry, I will!"
Jen applauded. " Good work, Eddie--keep this up and you'll be tough as a bull dyke."
"Huh?"
"Want to be in the Pride Parade?"
"What!?"
"Lucy and Shana thought we should maybe get a spot in the Pride Parade. There's already kids from Central High marching for their school. It wouldn't be like coming out, exactly, just supporting LGBTQ rights, you know? Kris is in, and I left messages for Alan and Manimni, and I asked them to spread the word--"
"So, maybe six kids?"
"Seven, with you! At least, maybe! And there'll be cops, so you won't have to beat anyone else up!"
Things were getting confusing. "Jen, I don't know what you're talking about!"
"The Pride Parade! Are you in? Please?"
"I was thinking I might go to watch, but march--"
"Out and Proud, Eddie!" Jen jabbed her hands above her head as if she were holding a sign, or something. "Out and Proud! If Central High can do it--"
I suddenly had a picture of Jen, leading the parade all by herself. "Let me think about it. I'll call you!" Jen's mouth tightened, and I was pretty sure she was struggling not to say something. "Okay," she said, at last, and looked me right in the eyes like she was trying to burn through them. "But call me, okay, Eddie?"
"Yeah! Of course," I said, already feeling guilty about disappointing her.
Roberta sat down. "Hi, Stud," she smiled.
"You really nailed Horse, Man," Shana grinned. "Word is, he'll be out for a week!"
"But I didn't--"
"You a hero, Eddie! Enjoy it!"
And suddenly I knew what all those looks in the hall were about. Whether I deserved it or not, I had a rep: the guy who beat Horse. But Danny beat Horse, not--holy shit! Danny Powell rescued me! He does care! He must! And I had his number in my pocket! I don't expect anyone knew the real reason I was walking tall for the rest of the day.
I fantasized about asking Powell to march in the Pride Parade. I mean, something like that would change everything at Fillmore! There we'd be, Danny and I, arm in arm in the sunlight, maybe with confetti and a band somewhere, and people waving--and I remembered Spiderman. Don't push your luck, Eddie. It could have been all about Horse, I reminded myself. Still ...
I called Jen as soon as I got home. "Jen? Hi! It's Eddie. I'm in."
"I talked to--what?"
"The Parade. I'm in."
"Great! So's Alan! He already called me!"
So there we were: the six--no, seven musketeers. "And ... um ... My birthday's coming up next month, and we're going to Funday Park, the Thursday after graduation. My folks are paying and all, and you don't need to bring a present or anything--"
"Great!"
I asked her to pass the word to Lucy and Shana and Roberta, and I got on the phone and invited Kris and Manimni--and Alan, of course.
One more call to make--the big one. I put the scrap of paper on my nightstand. Of course I was going to call Danny. (Lucy and everybody knows I have his number!) But I had to take my shower, first. (Quit stalling!) I had to call him, talk to him! (But what will I say?) Fuck it. I dialed.
"Yeah?"
"Danny! It's me, Eddie. I--"
"How the fuck did you get this number!? You are dead!"
"Hey! Shut up and listen, dammit!" That wasn't what I'd planned to say, not at all. I lowered my voice. "Let me thank you, at least!"
Icy rage answered. "Did you tell me to shut up?"
"Please just listen--" The line went dead.
I blew it. What the hell? Why'd I say that!? I just threw myself on my bed, buried my face in my pillow, and yelled every curse-word I could think of. I woke up around midnight and realized I was fumbling with my cock, just automatically, but ... Right then, it would have been okay if it was cut off, or something. I mean, if this was what being gay was all about ... I must have drifted back to sleep before I could finish the thought.
Jen Legato messaged me the next day. Now, she was organizing a group to go to the School Board meeting and speak in favor of the club proposal, in case Mrs. Barlow wasn't supportive!
"What about Alan?" I texted back.
"We need you, too, Eddie. And your folks, if they're on our side!"
Hey, Mom and Dad, want to go to the School Board meeting and talk about how great it is to have gay kid? Right. Finals! Focus on finals, not how I could possibly even tell my folks I was going to a School Board meeting, if I decided to go, let alone ask them to come along! Finals, not the possibility that my face would be all over the TV news, or something! Finals! Definitely not what I would do about Danny.
"Eddie? You still there?"
"I got finals coming up, Jen. I don't know--"
"Me too, but think about it, okay? I'll call you when I get the date."
There's actually one good thing about finals: they keep your mind occupied. I kept my seat near the front of the bus, and Powell completely ignored me. I resisted the shirt in the back of the drawer, at first, but shit! It was all I had, you know? I lay there, remembering everything I could about each of our times together, and wondered if just maybe Danny was doing the same, and I came and then hated myself for it, and just cried myself to sleep.
Jen was relentless at lunch. "This is our chance, Eddie! For everyone as brave as we are, there are maybe dozens of kids like Powell, living in terror of being found out. We're making it safe for them, Eddie! It's our duty!"
I got a glimpse of Danny on the bus. He didn't look good. In fact, if I didn't know Danny was in there somewhere, I'd have been scared shitless.
Dinner. "Eddie, dear? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Mom. Just tired."
Dad leaned toward me. "Finals getting to you?"
"Yeah, Dad. That must be it." I don't think any of us believed that, but sometimes you just need an excuse to stop talking about stuff.
"Tell us about this new club you're starting, Dear," Mom said, assuming she was changing the subject. "New club?" Dad asked.
"It's an after-school thing--"
"Like the Science Fiction club, dear," Mom added.
Dad rolled his eyes. "What kind of books this time?"
Mom smiled. "It's not a book club. It's a sort of discussion group--current events, I guess."
I jumped in. "Sort of. I mean, the club might not even happen. It has to go to the School Board for approval."
"Why would the School Board be opposed to a Current Events club?" Dad asked.
I shrugged. "Well, it's ... just a thing, I guess. They do it for all the after-school clubs."
"Damn bureaucrats!"
"Are we ready for dessert?" Mom intervened again. I looked at my parents, suddenly so far away at the ends of the table, and knew exactly why I needed that LGBTQ after-school club.
The next morning, the genie was out of the bottle, like they say. The newspaper got hold of the Fillmore Space, somehow, and the Pride celebration people, and some fundamentalist church, and by the time I got home from school, everyone knew about it.
"Eddie, dear?"
"Hi, Mom. I've got--"
"That club of yours? It's not that gay club, is it?" Suddenly, she winced. "It's okay if it is, of course, but--"
"Gay club?" I said weakly, and imagined myself falling through the floor into the basement.
"There was something on the radio about a gay club at Fillmore. Something about gays and lesbians and I don't know who else."
Deep breath. "GLBTQ, Mom. Gays and lesbians and trans people and, um, questioning people. And our friends and stuff."
"That's the club you're...?"
I nodded defeat. "It's not--I mean it's just a place where we can talk about stuff, you know? Like how confusing it all is, and how to explain it to our folks and stuff."
"But won't everybody know--"
"It's for friends, too. People who--straight people who are on our side, and stuff. Like you! If you were a student, I mean."
Mom stroked my cheek like she does, sometimes. "We are on your side, dear, no matter what. You know that, don't you?"
I nodded. "I know it's--I mean it's confusing for me, so I guess you ... it must be super-confusing for you and Dad. I'm sorry."
Mom smiled. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm--we're just glad you told us." And then she got a far-away look in her eyes. "I remember when I met your father--how different he was. It--I'd never felt quite like that before, and it was months before I could tell your grandmother and grandfather. We used to meet ... we'd meet at the movie theater. I told Grandmother I was meeting one of my girlfriends." She wiped one eye. "Secrets! Twenty-two and still keeping secrets from my parents!"
"I'm glad you met him, though!" I grinned. "I love you, Mom."
I was almost asleep when my phone buzzed. "Hello?"
"The alley. Saturday morning, nine-thirty. If anybody else shows up, play like you're pissing, or something. Got it?"
"The alley, nine-thirty, Saturday. Dan--"
"And lose this number!" The phone clicked off.
I watched Danny get on the bus in the morning, but he didn't even glance at me. Fair enough.
I went straight to Jen's table. I could tell we'd all been getting "the look" all morning. I plopped into my chair like I'd just made it to a mountain top. "Hi," I sighed.
"Quite a morning," Roberta said. "Right?"
"You'll get used to it," Shana said. "Thing about bein' black is, you either be ashamed, or you be proud of it. Be proud. Same thing."
Lucy nodded. "I bet there's a lot of kids really happy about this, down deep."
"Well," I said, looking at each of them, "We're rolling now, like it or not."
"I like it," Manimni said. "May I join you all?"
There were unanimous nods, and Jen introduced him. "You going to swim practice this afternoon?" she asked, when he was seated.
"Why not?"
"You're so cool about everything," Jen smiled. "How do you--"
"My family knows I'm Two-Spirit. My sister thinks it's cool. The people who matter, know."
"My folks know," I agreed. "They're okay with it, I guess."
"You guess?" Shana asked.
"Hey--it's big news to them. They have to catch up, you know?"
Suddenly, a glass of lemonade spilled over Jen, who yelled "Shit!" in surprise.
"Sorry, bitch!" somebody said, and suddenly a quartet of guys was hovering over her, snickering.
"You kids can't walk and drink at the same time?" Shana challenged, standing. Jen stood too, shaking off the drink. I stood up, and then the rest of the table. I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at them: four boys, juniors maybe. One of them was a little preppy, and when my eyes met his he suddenly tensed up. Another had a Fillmore sweatshirt---probably a jock--and the other two were ... forgettable.
"We have a problem?" Mister Zelinsky growled, charging into the middle of things.
"Just a accident," Sweatshirt said. "Spilled my lemonade." The Forgettables struggled to keep from laughing.
"Go to the cashier and ask for a mop. You," he turned to the preppy guy, "get some towels and clean up the table."
"Excuse me," Jen said. "Restroom." And she hurried away.
"It was an accident!" the Forgettables chorused.
"Go," Zelinsky replied, like he was shooing away flies.
We sat down, slowly. Preppy returned with the towels, and Shana took some of them for the table. She handed one to me so I could wipe Jen's chair. "You mop the floor, kid," she snapped. Preppy dropped the rest of the towels, shoved them around with his foot for a few seconds, then muttered, "Fuck you," and took off. We watched him go, then turned back to our lunches. We were silent until Jen got back.
"You all right?" Roberta asked.
"I'll be fine," Jen lied, pulling at her damp shirt.
"That kinda shit happen often?" Manimni asked.
Jen shrugged. "Out and proud," she sighed. "And sometimes, wet." And we all laughed.
I watched for Jock, Preppy and the Forgettables for the rest of the day, but I didn't see them.
There was a knock at my bedroom door and Dad pushed his head in. "Eddie? Can I talk to you?"
"Sure, Dad." I pushed my chair back. "I need a break, anyhow. Grammar."
Dad smiled. "I remember. Never did make sense."
He was obviously waiting for me to return the ball. "What did you want to talk about?"
The smile disappeared. "Your mother and I ... We got a letter."
Carefully, "Yeah?"
"And this club you're starting--"
"I'm not starting it, exactly. I'm ... supporting it. It's really--"
"So you're what they call 'out,' I guess."
"Yeah. I mean, some people know. It's not like I put up posters, or anything."
"But this letter--"
"From the school? Dad! I haven't done anything weird at school! I swear!"
"No! We don't know who it's from. But it's ... ugly. It's about ..." His voice was strained, and his face looked like it wanted to pull itself apart. "They call you a pervert who's going to Hell and deserve ..." He shuddered. "Eddie, I admit I'm not happy with your choice, but I would never--you're my son, and I love you."
"Gay's not a choice, Dad. It just ... happened. It's part of who I am, like my hair, maybe. Just part of me!"
Dad stopped and looked at me, tilting his head. "You look a little like your Uncle Joe," he said at last, thoughtfully. "I can see my brother in your face. How long have you known?"
"I don't know, really. It just happened, like I said. Fifth grade, maybe, or sixth. Things weren't making sense. I can't explain--"
"I understand that, at least--not making sense. I guess it's going to take me a while to catch up. But this-- this is terrifying!" He pulled the crumpled letter from his back pocket. "They're sick with hate--hate's not strong enough a word! These people want you dead, Eddie! It's ... I had no idea people could be ... Shit! I guess I knew they could, but not like this!"
"It's like the difference between knowing about a volcano and--"
"Getting run over by lava," Dad nodded. "At least." He leaned forward, and now it looked almost like he was going to start crying! "I just want you to know, whatever happens, I'll protect you, Son. With every breath in my body. We're family. That's the important part. Don't be afraid to tell me if ... if something's happening, all right?"
"Wow," I whispered. "Dad, I ... I love you, Dad!" I was fighting back tears.
"I love you too, Eddie. Just ... be careful, that's all."
And we hugged--just a father-son, guy hug, and it felt incredible. "I ... I should get back to ..."
"Subordinate conjunctions, or whatever they are!" Dad laughed. But his eyes were glittering wet by the time he stood up and left my bedroom.
I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to leave the letter behind, but he did. Believe me, you haven't seen obscenity until you've seen hate mail! For a few awful seconds I wondered if Mike Silvers had sent it. It was all typed, so there was no handwriting or anything. But Mike wasn't--God help him if he was! Finals! Please, let me just concentrate the Vietnam conflict and stuff!
Friday, and a vague sense of impending doom smothered Fillmore High as we all wrapped up final exams. For just a few hours, we were all in the same leaky boat. And then it was over, and we exploded out of the building. Even Snake and Dodger looked less intense than I'd ever seen them. But I finally got a half-way good look at Danny's face. It wasn't pretty. Not at all. He had another black eye.