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Gay Boy Running by Rick Beck Chapter Six "Detour Ahead" Back to Chapter Five On to Chapter Seven Chapter Index Rick Beck Home Page  School Drama Sexual Situations Proudly presented by The Tarheel Writer - On the Web since 24 February 2003. Celebrating 21 Years on the Internet! Tarheel Home Page |
I suppose that when everything is going great, and nothing has ever gone that well before, you need to start looking over your shoulder in search of the Grim Reaper. By the time eighth grade was in its final month, I'd never had it so good. My body and mind entered the same orbit as I stretched my potential far beyond any and all limitations I may have suspected were there.
I couldn't get to CORE fast enough each morning and I was dressed for gym before the bell rang ending lunch. I felt better about myself because two teachers made it their business to make me feel better about myself. Where confusion once reined, I knew what I was doing for the first time. I no longer went to school dreading the sound of my name being called.
At the end of the third quarter of my 8th grade year, something rather strange had taken place. One morning after my bus arrived, Tommy met me to lead me to the bulletin board outside the office in the main hall. He stopped at the newly posted Honor Roll, and Tommy pointed out my name.
"You're on the Honor Roll!" Tommy bragged.
"I am?" I said.
How does that happen?
The thought furthest from my mind, when the year started, was making the Honor Roll. When the year started I was still trying to hide my ignorance. After so many years I didn't know I could do something about it. No one ever told me. This was a completely unexpected byproduct of what had been happening to me that year.
What did it mean?
At home it offered iron clad proof that something had changed, which had far more importance than I could have known when the Honor Roll letter arrived at my house. For years my report cards came marked with the dreaded, "Charles could do better if he tried."
This had me under the gun, because it reflected on my parents. It was simply another part of why I was so undeserving of consideration in their house. I had always been a disappointment.
The Honor Roll confused my parents. My mother saw this as a validation of her parenting skills. Stupidity was mine alone but my intellect was a family affair. Whatever it was, it got me better treatment on the home front. I had never asked for anything and I didn't expect much, but not being under constant pressure in my house, where I rarely was, helped me a lot.
My parents had heard about Mr. Q while I was still stupid, so it made no difference, but now they listened when I spoke about school. The tension was reduced but my routine was long ago established and it didn't change. I went home to eat and sleep but none of my meaningful life was spent there.
On a cloudy and drizzly day in May Mr. Q intercepted me before I went into the locker room after class.
"See me before you leave for next period," he said.
I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I skipped the shower and headed for his office still buttoning my shirt.
"Yes, sir," I said, standing in the doorway of his office.
"Come with me,' he said. He pushed himself out of his chair as soon as he saw me.
We walked toward the front of the school and went out the door nearest to the office. He had his hand on my shoulder, which was unusual, as patting my back was as and a handshake now and then was the extent of physical contact. This change worried me.
We walked outside into the teacher's parking lot and stepped on the grass divider that separated us from the road that circled around the athletic field and the high school.
I was confused. What had I done? It was drizzling rain and he was in a T-shirt and me in my street clothes.
"Charles, what do you see?" he asked, aiming me at the only thing I readily identified.
"The high school," I said as we faced the huge brick building that dominated the landscape.
"What's in-between here and there?"
"The athletic field," I recognized confidently.
"What goes around the athletic field?"
"The track?"
"When you get up there, I want you to go out for the track team."
"What?" I asked. "I've got another year with you first," I explained to him, confident he was way premature with this idea.
"No, you don't, Charles. The new junior high school, Stoddard, is opening near where you live. You'll go there next year. This will be the final year I coach you. I want you to promise me you'll go out for the track team once you get up there."
"I don't want to go to another school. I want to come here. I want you to be my teacher. I won't go to the new school," I protested in a way I'd never spoken to an adult before.
"I checked the list. Your name is on it. You'll go to the new school next year. You don't get to choose."
"I won't go," I protested further.
"Promise me that when you get to the high school, you'll go out for track."
We stood nose to nose much like the first day I'd come into his gym class. He was waiting and we might have stood there until school let out if I didn't say what he wanted me to say.
"I promise," I said, feeling like someone had just gutted me.
He smiled and put his arm over my shoulder as we walked back to the hallway we'd gone out of. I wanted to cry. The only place where I had ever belonged was being snatched away from me.
"If your teacher says anything about you being late, you tell him to talk to Mr. Q about it?" He said with authority as I tried to grasp what he'd just told me.
"Yes, sir," I said, doing a slow withdrawal from the life I loved and was about to lose.
I'd rather have never found any happiness rather than to have it and face giving it all up.
As quick as the final bell rang I was waiting for Tommy at his locker. I needed his friendship more than ever now. I was losing his friendship, another victim of this cruel event.
"I'm not going to school here next year," I blurted as he was exchanging books, not sure what he heard me say.
"Cut it out," he said, laughing like he didn't believe it.
"Mr. Q says I'm going to a new school near where I live."
"Mr. Q. He could be mistaken about a thing like that. Let's go ask Mr. Warnock. He'll know," Tommy said, feeling confident there was some mistake.
"Hi, boys, what can I do for you this dank and dreary afternoon?"
"Mr. Q says there's a new school and Charles isn't coming back here next year. Is it true?"
"Oh, I got something on that this morning. Let me look."
Mr. Warnock opened his top drawer and pulled out a large envelope. Inside were several pages of names in alphabetical order. On the first page a third of the way down he came up with the answer.
"Yeah, here's your name. You'll be going to Benjamin Stoddard. It's a brand new school. That'll be nice."
"I won't go. I want to go here," I protested for Mr. Warnock.
"Yes you will. Your name is on the list and that's where you'll be going to school next year. Nothing you can do about it, Charles. You'll do fine."
"I won't go. All my friends are here. I don't want to go there."
"You'll be back for senior high. You'll make new friends. Going to a new school will be fun. You'll like it once you get used to it. We'll still be here when you come back for senior high."
No, I would never like it. For the first time in my life I had friends to lose and teachers I could trust. Only 7th and 8th grade meant anything to me. Just as my life was turning around, the state of Maryland figures out a way to snatch it away.
Being forced to leave the first safe haven in my life meant I'd never like whatever was forced on me to take its place. I had the friend I wanted and while there would be people I could communicate with, I'd never like it or think it replaced what I loved. It was tragedy to join the tragedy of the life I'd known before 7th grade. I could only imagine what might have been had I been left alone to have another year with my mentors.
Losing it. Having it taken away would mean never really trusting anything can last. In a moment it can all disappear without any way to stop it. I'd avoid becoming close to anyone for twelve years for one reason, I didn't want to be betrayed or face losing it.
Summer was on us and Florida was a safe place. It was temporary and there was nothing to lose in that. As with most things I could distract myself by wandering and keeping busy. I'd show up the first day of 9th grade with getting out of there the only thing being on my mind.
Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com
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