Disclaimer: If you aren't legally supposed to be reading this, then don't, but I'm not gonna stop you. If you feel uncomfortable reading works about gay, bi, or whatever teens, then why are you reading this? If ever you want to use any of this story, ask me. The answer should be yes.
-Countquestions
Stupid Jerk: Shocks
Don'tcha hate it when people throw you for a loop? Isn't it annoying when something becomes so crystal clear, and that something makes you feel like the biggest jerk in the world?
Yeah, well, that's how I feel. Like a big jerk. Gay, I am not. Homophobic, I'm not, but when a friend comes out to you -- granted, this was a friend who in the past few weeks has been nothing but even more of a spaz and suddenly they changed -- you aren't supposed to be this unprepared. Are you?
Sure this same friend has been nothing but a headache because his motives are unknown and you're very tipsy at a party, shootin' the shit when he says hazily, "You know, man, I like you."
And you look at him, holding a glass of Hpnotiq and reply, "Yeah, I like you, too."
Then he looks at you smiling lazily and says, "Nah, man, I really like you."
You, being tipsy and just dense are like, "Yeah, I already said I like you. We're friends remember?" Then you laugh.
He then gets really serious and puts his hand on your shoulder and looks you in the eye and says slowly, "I. Really. Like. You." He then becomes bold enough to lean over and kiss you really quickly, and you jump back like What The Fuck?!? And he looks really sad and can't look you in the eye, and then it dawns on you.
He had a thing for you, and his change in behavior was for you. It was a genuine change, but being the smug spaz he is the change didn't seem genuine. Lastly, you feel sorry because you can't return the feelings and now you're friendship is totally weird. You feel like a total jerk because he's hurt and there ain't shit you can do about it. You feel like a derk because he knows he was one before his behavior changed and thinks that that's why you don't return his feelings. You feel like a jerk because what another mutual friend of yours said makes sense and you realize this friend is too a jerk because he's homophobic. You realize that the spaz next to you came out to your mutual friend and was rejected. You realize that the spaz next to you had the right to be such a spaz because you know in the same situation you would be too. You realize that you never saw this coming and don't know how to act around this friend because even though he irks you and recently you kirk off when he's around, you can't do this anymore because you'd be completely guilty. You feel even more like a jerk when he sulks, thinking you rejected him, but you haven't. You just need time apart. (As another close friend suggested. Sage Deirdre, sage.)
You chuckle pointlessly seeing the more of a fuckup this situation has become and think to yourself, 'Well, the monkey's pissed on the ant today, hasn't he?' You go and lie down and contemplate how you're gonna act around this friend and just feel like a jerk again.
So that's where I was. I lay on my bed feeling stupid. Just stupid. I constantly asked myself, "How did I not know?" And then I think that there really weren't many clues. Darryl never really acted in any "gay" way. I hate that term. Some acts "gay". I mean for some people, that's totally on point, but for others it's not.
I heard the phone ring next to me. I knew who it was. It was Darryl, and at that moment I was just afraid to say anything to him. I was afraid of him. I mean he's one of my closest friends. I've known Darryl since preschool, and he's gay? How is that? Why didn't he tell me? That's what I wanted to shout at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?!?!"
He knows that it's only me and my dad. (My mom left when I was a baby to find herself. Well, that's what she writes in her yearly letters.) My dad's older brother, Tio Adimar, is gayer than a drag queen on a float at Pride. I still love him. He's more like a dad than my dad, which isn't a bad thing, really. (My parents were fifteen when I was born; so most of the time Dad's more like an older brother.) I don't have any problem with gay people. Darryl knows this. So why not tell me?
The phone rang again, and though most of me didn't want to answer it, I did anyway.
"Hello."
Silence on the other end. Light but loud breathing. A huge gulp. "...Paco. Um... hi."
I decided that I wasn't going to be angry with him. That's not what he needed. My best friend just came out to me. I think that should warrant him special treatment, even though I so did not want to give it. "Hey, fucktard."
I heard him exhale slowly. I could even see his uneasy smile as he responded, "Hey, bitchlick . . . Why haven't you been answering my calls? I thought for a second there that you'd want nothing to do with me." I wanted to slap myself hearing the pain in his last statement.
"No, it's okay. Your being gay and all. You know I don't have a problem with that. It's that -- you know -- how you said you felt about me..." I wrapped the phone cord around my fingers uneasily.
"Yeah... well...I could get that. I just want you to know that I only kissed you cos I was drunk!" he said quickly.
"It's okay Da--"
"No! I mean," he paused, searching for the right words. I already knew the expression his face held. Left eyebrow raised. His lips pursed to the left side of his face. "I was plannin' on comin' out to you. I mean that's why I was actin' like I was. I just didn't know how to do it, na' mean? Iono. The kiss wasn't planned. That much I can tell you. It was definitely the liquor."
Why was he lying to me? That's always been Darryl's problem. Here you have this tall light skinned guy who looks fierce as hell. A bulky body that I wish I could have. (I'm tall and light skinned too, but skinny. I tried lifting weights but it just made me more cut, not bulky.) But Darryl wears all his emotions on his face. At least to me he does. Especially his eyes. One look and boom! I know exactly what's going on there.
I wanted to shout into the phone, "The liquor wasn't doin' shit!" But I didn't. I just went, "Yeah, well...it's cool. Everything's cool. You're still my boy."
Another slow exhalation. "Good. So, I'll see you at school tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Yeah you will."
I was at my locker a couple of days later. Things between me and Darryl were getting better. He told me out of the blue that since he knew that I wouldn't act on them, that his feelings for me were over and done with. I was happy with the fact that he finally came out to me and totally cool with his being gay. In fact, I used that to tease him anytime I could now.
"What about Sam Carrington?" I asked him, pointing to Sam, the football team's quarterback. The god of this school. The shiniest guy here. Shiny meaning blond hair with blue eyes and tanned. Doesn't it suck that the pretty people are the pretty people? Well, that's how it is in Bumblefuck, America. Football is held above all else. Please, don't ask me why because I'm still trying to figure that one out. Whatever Sam says goes. Sad but true. Sam lived in me and Darryl's neighborhood; so we're cool. Outside of school that is. For some reason, the politics at Hirsshorn High say that us art buffs can't be friends with the jocks. Well, haha to that. Darryl and I break that rule everyday. Darryl is also on the ever-so-important football team.
Darryl looked at me incredulously, "Sam? My captain Sam? Sam Carrington of the Hirsshorn Ravens, Sam? Haha! Please, man. Sam's not -- nah. Never."
"Yeah well whatever you say," I laughed poking him, "I may have been wrong about you, but I'm usually on point about people. If Sam ain't gay, then my Dad's not from Peru y yo no hablo espanol."
"Well, you been right in the past, but I think you got Sam all wrong. Plus, he's dating Kara."
"Don't mention her? And have you ever heard of a cover? Plus who hasn't she hooked up with. I'm sure she doesn't know that Sam's gay, but tu ten fe en mi. Our Sam es homosexual. El es un maricon. Know that I don't mean nothin disrespectful."
"Estupidense," Darryl laughed, calling me dumb, "I know you don't. And I'll take you're word for it that Sam's gay cos it don't look like you're gonna back down from this. Though, I gotta admit. Sam is fine as hell!" He broke out into a huge grin.
"Darryl tiene the Jungle Fever," I laughed.
"Oh, and you don't?" he raised a brow.
We laughed and made our way to fifth period, English. Ms. Place's class. Ms. Place was our school's oldest teacher, and she must have been our most boring. Everyday she started class with, "Good afternoon scholarrsss... Hoow are we faring this fine schoool day...?" Even though she was old and boring, she was one of the nicest teachers. If you had a late assignment, she didn't care as long as it was in before the end of the week. She also lets us get away with murder in her class. Hers was more like a free period.
We were reading Shakespeare's Macbeth. I hate Shakespeare. Last I heard, we were in English class. I don't care what anyone says. Shakespeare isn't English. I wasn't paying attention to anything Ms. Place droned on about. Instead I was reluctantly hearing the latest gossip from the third to our trio, Deirdre. Deirdre was tall, too and really thin, almost waify. She stood almost eye-to-eye with me; so she had to be at least six-feet-tall. She had long, straight red hair, green eyes and freckles. I called her stereotypical Irish. She always joked that all we needed to add to our trio was an Asian person added to our trio, and we'd represent the world.
I didn't know what she was talking about then. I think it was something about Sam's girlfriend, Kara, and how she was cheating on him. Or he was cheating on her. I wasn't the least bit interested. I always end up in a daydreaming stupor in Ms. Place's class. Deirdre hit my shoulder, knocking me out of my coma.
"Fuck! What was that for?" I whispered harshly.
"Are you listening to me?" she snapped back.
"Yeah, Kara and Mike are cheating on Sam with Mica and Mr. Sanderson in the cafeteria about.... Iono."
"You aren't listening! Why do I even try to hold a conversation with----"
"Hold up," I told her. Ms. Place had started to say something about a new student.
"And here claasss," she droned on in her usual long, light tone, "Heee isss. Claasss, this is Thomasss Sistrunk. Helloo Thomasss."
Thomas Sistrunk was a medium height black guy. He had even caramel skin and curly long hair. It was like he moved first, and then all that hair followed. He smiled at the class. My first though was, `Nice smile.' Wait, who am I to notice this guy's smile? I shook my head, looking at Darryl. I must say that I've never seen him go totally gaga over someone. Or maybe that was my first time noticing it. He all but drooled over the sight of Thomas Sistrunk. Deirdre followed my eye and whispered over to him, "Hey. Close your mouth before all the bugs go in." (I forgot to mention that Darryl had come out to Deirdre a long time ago.) Darryl shook his head and blushed. This hard ass, big, black kid blushed over getting caught undressing the new kid with his eyes. I burst out laughing, making everyone look back at me.
"Welll, that's where you can sit, Thomasss. Take the seat to the riiight of Mr. Francisco Selva-Chevere," Ms. Place ushered towards my seat. His sitting on the right to me meant that only I separated him and my best friend, the drooler. Class returned to normal almost immediately. Thomas Sistrunk strode slowly towards his new desk quietly and sat down, but not before flashing me, Darryl, and Deirdre an easy going smile. I just returned the smile as did Deirdre. Darryl looked on drooling until Thomas eyed him weirdly and smiled again. Then Darryl blushed again and suddenly had to write something down and ask Deirdre for help.
I began sketching, happy that Deirdre was now gossiping to an all-too-interested Darryl. I love just sketching and not really paying attention to what I'm doing. It's like your sketch forms itself, and that's totally cool to me. I was really into it. Fully bent over it and everything. Then I heard from behind me, "Hey that looks tight." I looked up, and Thomas was peering over my shoulder. "Who is it?"
I sat up, "Oh, I don't know. I was just drawing."
Thomas just stared at it, "That's fucking amazing!"
He said that a bit loud, getting everyone's attention and a "Waaatch your language Thomasss." from Ms. Place. Darryl looked over at the sketch and Deirdre turned around fully. Other people in class also tried to look at it, too. I hated having all this attention on me, and I still hadn't realized what I'd drawn.
"Wow, Paco, that's a really good sketch. Why don't you ever sketch me like that," Deirdre whined.
I finally looked down at it. First thing I saw was the hair, which wasn't difficult to do. It was just loops that I filled in with shading. Then there was the smile. It was a big toothy smile, just like the smile had just twice seen. It was Thomas Sistrunk's smile. I looked at the whole sketch. There he was. Thomas's face sat on my made-for-acrylic paper, sketched out and starting to be shaded. It wasn't finished, and I knew I could in less than a minute, but I handed it to him. "Pues, I guess you can have it," I mumbled.
He shook his head, "No, you gotta finish it." He handed it back, still beaming. I heard a light snort from Darryl. I looked at him and raised a brow. Again he fell into whatever he was writing.
As I continued to flesh out the sketch, Deirdre held out her long, freckled hand, "Hi. Since you are obviously new, I'm Deirdre. Deirdre Foxall. The one drawing you (but who won't draw me like that) is Francisco, but he goes by Paco, and the one all flustered by your appearance who's acting as if he's writing something gruelingly," Darryl turned more red, "is Darryl." Darryl looked up and quickly raised and lowered his head in a `sup to Thomas. Thomas returned the gesture but smiled. There was that smile again.
"Well, y'all know I'm Tom Sistrunk," he fished something out of his pocket, "Where is A.P. US History: Reed Swanson, 714 Mainstreet?" I must explain that when they built our school, the powers that be thought that since it was so large, each of its main hallways should be called "streets". So the biggest is Mainstreet. Then there's Upperstreet, Lowerstreet, Leftstreet, and Roundstreet. The rest are all "ways." You have Sportsway, Musicway, Artsway, etc. Tan estupido, no?
"I have that class," I told him, "What period?"
"Seventh."
"Then that means you have lunch at sixth period like the three of us," Deirdre smiled, "Cool, you're eating with us, then." I loved that about her. She just assumes for you, and you just can't do a thing about it. Thankfully the bell chimed the end of class. I handed Tom the drawing. He looked at it and then at me in awe.
"How can you draw this fast?" he asked, mouth agape.
I hated this type of attention. I shrugged. "Always been able to."
We made our way to lunch and Tom made some comment about football, which piqued Darryl's interest. The two of them fell into some deep conversation about such and such team and their players. They continued on even as we all sat to eat our food.
"Okay!" Deirdre began, "Why don't we turn this conversation away from football and onto other topics. Tom, where ya from?"
"My mom got transferred here by her company," he answered, just about to go back into his football thing with Darryl but not before Deirdre threw in, "So, it's just you and your mom?"
He looked on the verge of being annoyed and then that all too familiar smile came, "No, it's actually me, my mom and dad, two brothers, and two sisters."
"Wow! Where y'all live?" she asked, too excitedly.
"Some neighborhood they call `New Granger'." I guess he noticed all of our reactions because he gave us a nervous smile, "I say something wrong?"
I shook my head about to answer, but Deirdre decided to steal my thunder, "Nope. That's where we all live."
"What street do you live on?" I asked, giving Deirdre a rest.
"West Gracherier."
"Well, then, you're a block away from me and Darryl, and you live on her block," I explained, nodding to Deirdre. "Bienvenido a nuestros barrio."
"That means, `Welcome to our neighborhood'," Darryl filled him in.
"Yo entendi," he smiled. "Mi mama es de la Republica Dominica."
Darryl and Deirdre both looked over at me. "He said he understood--"
"We got that," they interrupted in unison.
"And his mother's from the Dominican Republic."
Deirdre giggled and put her hand on Tom's shoulder, "Just don't be like Paco and Alejandro. That's his dad. Don't ever call him Mr. Selva. The two of them have these long discussions in Spanish and then look over at me and Darryl and tell us like two words. It's like when you go to a salon and get your nails done. You just know that Asian lady is sayin' somethin about you to the other people that work there. Then she turn back to you and say, `Airbrush is five dollar,'."
"Well, I've known Paco and Alejandro long enough to have picked up on a lot of Spanish," Darryl explained.
Pretty soon, Tom and Darryl fell back into their conversation about football or some sport. Deirdre decided that this was the perfect opportunity to retell all the useless drabble about the goings-on of our classmates. At least those we knew. I really didn't give a damn and wanted to shout at her, "Callate!" So that she would stop, but I just gave her noncommittal Uh huh's and Oh yeah's. Again the bell rang at the right time.
Darryl and Tom got up and started over to the trashcans with their trays while Deirdre and I followed.
She leaned over and whispered, "Well they gettin' along fine."
"Si, it's like Tom is another sports aficionado, no?" I whispered back, and then it dawned on me. "Oh you mean... Well, we don't know much about Tom. There's no way of knowing."
"But we could hope. At least for Darryl's sake. Maybe he'd stop droolin' over the boy," she rolled her eyes as she said this, smirking.
I laughed, "Yeah. Maybe we should try to get Darryl some action."
"Some Sistrunk action!"
We both burst out laughing. Darryl and Tom turned around to us. "What's so funny?" Darryl asked.
"Nada. Venga Tom. We're going the opposite way," I beckoned Tom after me.
"See y'all after school? Whose locker?" Deirdre asked. Again, she just assumed Tom would come along.
"Yours," I answered.
Me and Tom started to walk down Roundstreet towards Mainstreet. "Esto es Roundstreet. Al derecho es Mainstreet y US A.P." I explained to him that Mainstreet and our next class was to the right.
We had a substitute in A.P. US that day. He told us that our usual teacher Mr. Swanson would be out all week and that we had to partner up to do in-class DBQ's. DBQ's are Document Based Questions. These asinine ways of answering a question only using the random documents given with it. This week's was, How did the New England and the Jamestown settlements' societies differ?. We were given some censuses taken back then from both settlements, letters from different leaders of the settlements, and reports of the settlements economic and commercial ventures. I was happy that either the substitute or Mr. Swanson had made a mistake because we had already done this DBQ before.
Tom started to read through the material, but I told him to stop. "Ya lo hice." I took out the DBQ I had done earlier and handed it to him. "I got an A on it. Just copy. Swanson will barely notice."
He smiled, which I was starting to take as his trademark action. "Thanks." We both sat there in silence as he copied my old DBQ. Two dark brown arms came around my shoulders from behind, "Hey Siskey. Hiyou?"
"Shouldn't you be workin' on your DBQ?" I asked, annoyed.
"You know we already did this. Plus, the substitute doesn't really give a shit," I was answered. I looked at the substitute. He had a book out and read it, oblivious to the class. "So? Who's your new, cute friend?"
"Kara, you never give up do you?" I asked lecherously.
"You just mad you can't have it anymore," she leered at me putting her head so that our cheeks were touching. "You gonna introduce me or--"
"Tom, this is my ex, Kara Williamson. She's also known as the bike of the cheerleading team. Y'know, everyone's gotten a ride on--"
"Pay, Siskey no mind. We only broke up cos I caught him and that footballer friend of his, Darryl, kissin' each other at a party," she spat. Tom quickly looked me in the eye. I saw his left brow raise slightly and he quickly lowered it, looking back at Kara. Kara held out her hand, "I on the other hand have never cheated on anyone--"
"That's cos you've never been with anyone long enough," I interrupted.
"It's been nice meeting you, Tom," Kara spoke over me, "I hear you're the newest kid this semester." They shook hands. "I just wanted to say `Hi' to you and Siskey. Hope your day's been okay." She made our cheeks touch again, "Make sure to say hello to Sam for me tonight, will you, Siskey. Maybe you and Darryl could carry that message on together, seeing how Sam only lives across the street. I won't be able to see him tonight. We have a Student Body trip. Well, see ya guys." She went back to her desk but not before giving Tom a wink.
Tom stared at me for a moment. "Do I want to ask?"
"Kara and I were together for what I call a brief moment. Basically it was this past summer," I explained.
He nodded his head. He opened his mouth as if to ask another question then closed it. I began to draw a girl sitting at a table with her chin resting on her hands. I drew her small and in the center of the page. I wanted to make her despondence isolated. As I was detailing her hair, Tom asked me out of nowhere, "So, you and Darryl? Are you together?"
I looked up, surprised and laughed dryly. When I didn't respond, Tom continued, "I mean. I have no problem with it. You two are already cool peoples. It's just- I never thought... Y'kno?"
I laughed again as he got more flustered. "We aren't together. We aren't anything. Just friends. Me and him were at this party like last week," I lowered my voice, "We were pretty lit, and we got to talkin' and he kissed me and told me he liked me..." I waited, watching Tom's reaction.
"Let me guess," he began, "You were totally unprepared?"
It was my turn to look at him in shock, "Yeah. Yeah, I was. I totally freaked for a couple of days, but we talked it out. We're cool. He's been my best friend since I can remember. Him and Deirdre. Look, I didn't tell you this okay?" He nodded his head. "He's gay, but he's not out. Well, he's out to me and Deirdre. So don't let on that you know cos he should be the one to tell you `officially'. Not me."
"That sounds cool," he smiled, "His secret is safe with me."
I laughed and went back to drawing. I felt Tom's gaze linger on me before he continued copying my DBQ.
Well, that's all he wrote. So far anyway. Hit me up at getitright10@yahoo.com if you think I should continue this. Make sure to put Stupid Jerk somewhere in the subject line.
-K (a.k.a Countquestions)