Chapter 10
"Hey, man, what's up?" Phil called from across the lawn when he noticed me.
"Nothin' really. I guess I just needed to get out of the house."
He totally checked me out due to the fact that I had my deck under one arm, my backpack stuffed to overflowing on my back, and a small canvas duffle bag in my other hand. I think he knew right away that "nothing" really meant "something major."
"So... you like getting rid of some stuff?" he asked.
He had to have known that I was moving out, because of what he could see I was carrying. I was deathly afraid to ask him what I needed to. If he said no, the only other place I figured I could stay was under the bleachers at the football field, so I just stood there and stared at the ground. Phil waited for me to talk. He always does that when he knows I need to spill. I'm not sure how he figures it out, but he's never missed yet.
He started picking at the leaves that were stuck on the rake tines.
"This have something to do with you and Casey going out last night?"
"Yeah, kind of," I answered, hoping he wasn't going to get religious on me. "We went to a party. I... I kind of ended up in the hospital."
"Wow. That stinks. That's something I never even managed to do. What happened?"
He continued piling up the few leaves that he had pulled free from the rake, like he didn't know what to say. When he looked up again, he saw me watching him, and asked, "So, what happened?" but he kept stirring the little pile of leaves around with his rake, to kind of give me a little space.
"No one told me the punch was spiked. I kept drinking it because I don't like the taste of beer. The doctor said it was lucky I woke up and called my dad because if I hadn't..."
"Ouch," Phil sympathized and then stirred the leaf pile some more. "So what's with all the stuff?"
"There was only guys at the party. I guess things kind of got out of hand... I was so out of it, I kind of got someone else's pants on by mistake. My dad noticed it at the hospital, and mom made a big scene about it this morning. She thought I might have got a girl pregnant. She just wouldn't leave it alone. She wanted to know who I was with and how long we had been seeing each other. When she started bombarding me with questions about how long I'd been having sex, I totally lost it and told her to stop worrying because I like guys, and they can't get pregnant.
"I don't think she caught it at first, but when she did, she went like totally nutzo.
"Phil, she just stood there for the longest time, looking like she was going to explode, then she told me," and in a voice mocking my mom's shrill screech, I said, `Don't you ever say those words to me again.'
"Can you believe that? I mean, she walked into my bedroom and saw the porn on my computer screen more than once. How could she not see that one coming?
"Anyway, that's when I lost it and started screaming at her. I guess I over did it, because every time she started to say something I would like just keep yelling I'm gay so I didn't have to listen to her ragging at me. Then when she stopped talking and she still looked like she was gonna explode I screamed: Face it you stupid b...," I caught myself just in time. I knew if Phil's parents were home, using words like that would not help me get what I needed right now. "Anyway, I told her the only son you got left is a faggot!' She smacked me so hard my head jerked back and hit the door post I was standing beside. I freakin' saw stars," I told Phil as I reached back and rubbed the knot on the back of my head. "I'm never going back home as long as she lives there." I lifted my bag slightly, to show Phil that I had brought my things with me.
"Do... do you like think I could stay with you guys `till I could find another place to live?" I finally asked.
Phil's eyebrows involuntarily shot upward.
"Maybe," he told me. But it sounded more like a question than an answer. "We got a sleep sofa in the living room.
"You think your parents would go for it?"
"We can always ask when they get home. I guess the worst they can do is say no."
Actually I think he had serious doubts that his parents would even consider letting me stay with them once they knew I had run away from home, but at least he was willing to try to help me out.
"When will they get home?" I asked.
"Hard telling, but they should be back before supper. You wanna help me rake leaves?"
"Not really. I still kind of have a really bad headache. ...but then maybe they'll see that I can earn my keep."
Two hours later, the yard was clean and we had heaped all the leaves into one gigantic pile.
"You want something to drink, Alex?"
"As long as it's not beer... or strawberry flavored" I told him, thinking about last night's punch and rolling my eyes for effect.
Phil landed a solid punch on my arm like he always did when we didn't know what to say to each other, and then he tackled me into the pile of leaves. He tried tickling me, I'm sure to get me to loosen up, but I was too distracted to even squirm.
"Phil? I'm serious about never going home. I don't think I can handle it anymore. My parents are always yelling and screaming at each other about something... and now it's about me. I just can't take it anymore."
Phil shoved his hand out toward me, pulled me to my feet, and we headed to the house. We had just popped the top on our soda cans when the car pulled into the driveway and I started freaking.
I saw Phil smile when his brother Sammy squealed to Aaron, "Look what Phil made for us, Arn. Come on!"
"Let's go out and throw `em into the pile of leaves," he said as he started for the door, but I was frozen in place with fear. Just then, his mom opened the kitchen door and entered the room with an arm full of bags.
"Oh, hi boys. Alex, how are you. I didn't..." but before she could finish, I shot from the room, slammed the bathroom door closed behind me, and noisily deposited my breakfast into the toilet.