Homecoming

At first, I don’t believe it. He’s joking. I ask Nate to repeat what he just said. He repeats it.

The words are deep and slow and smooth, like he’s practiced telling me this a hundred times. The words are heavy, and find myself slumping down, a frown on my face as my head is tilted, eyes fixated on the picture of Nate and I on the white walled room. It’s not our best picture. We were fourteen with shorter hair and rounder cheeks and my eyes and cheeks are blotted red. He’s next to me, pulling up the corners of my mouth with his fingers while I take the picture with one hand. That was the day after I’d moved here, to my dad’s house. I can’t help but feel an odd surge of déjà vu.

“…Connor?” He questions, it sounds pained.

I click the ‘off’ button on the phone and drop it next to me on my made up bed. At least I avoided the beyond awkward silence, the thick tension, the…talk?

The doorbell rings and I tear my eyes away from the picture to my closed door. Even after I hear cheerful greeting and shuffling, I don’t move until I hear my name called. I can’t even bring myself to pretend to be enthused, I like I’m going to be sick, I feel like I am sick. After taking a deep, shaky breath, I twist the doorknob, walk slowly down the hall, and trot down the stairs, putting on an expression that almost resembles happy. Not that I’m not happy…well, I’m not, but I’m…uncertain. I just don’t know the start of the long chain of blending emotions churning inside me at the moment in time.

Standing, waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs is a tall, brown haired girl, Chelsea. “Aw why the long face, big bro?” She gives a pout that could rival mines and smirks. God this girl is too much like me.
“Hey, sweety!” My step-mother, Mary, rushes up to meet me before I even make it down the staires. “Sorry we weren’t here sooner! We went to spend a few days in the city to get Chels a dress! She got asked to homecoming this year!”

My forced smile drops as the fake blond embraces me in a hug. Just more reminders of the night that’s been ruining my life in record-breaking time. I cough and wipe my eyes, blinking a few times, tired. I try to pull myself out of a sudden dream like daze. This just has to be dream. The sick way everything everyone says to me relates to one night, one mistake no one but a few knows about, pouring salt into deep wounds without realizing it.

“How?” I say slightly sharp, “You’re in freaking eighth grade.” I finish my way down the stairs and hook my arm around my step sister’s neck and use my other hand to mess up her perfect hair. She whines, “Connor, stop it!” She immediately runs to the mirror by the front door to fix it then turns back towards me. She smiles with pearly teeth and puts her hands on ninety dollar jean-clad hips. “It’s not only eighth grade, Connor. I’ll be going to your school, next year, you know.” She reminds me and it hurts just a little. She’s my legacy. She’s a female version of what I was to Evan.

“Speaking of,” she continues, “You’re not second-handedly ruining my reputation already, are you?”

I don’t reply, caught up in my own thoughts. So much just whirling up a tornado in my mind. Things I’ve come to forget being sucked up every time someone opens their mouth.
“You okay, hun? You look so tired… maybe you should get some rest,” Mary says.

I can’t. This nightmare will just follow me to bed and continue by the moment. I just need to be distracted. Distracted in different ways than I already am.

“No, I uh- made plans, actually,” I turn and say, “We’ll finish this conversation in the morning young lady,” I force a smile at Chelsea and open the door. “Be back in a few hours,” I mutter before closing the door, stepping into cold wind in the sweatshirt I’ve been practically living in. I cross the dark, bare street and knock on the door directly opposite of my father’s house.

I hear screaming of blasting pop music for a while that almost causes a small smile before the door swings open and the volume of the music hits me. Kristen looks shocked to see me for a moment for continuing screeching the remainder of the pop song at me. During the last few beats of the song, she shimmies toward me and gives me a hug. Heather cuts the music to see who’s at the door and screams as she sees me. “And to what do we owe this pleasure?” She smiles ear-to-ear and hugs me.

“Hope I didn’t ruin your party,” I can only work up a smirk as I look past the girls and into the big, empty house.

“Ah, yeah, dad’s out of town and who other to invite to my sick party than my B-F-F here, Heather. But now that you’re here, it can be a party of three.” Kristen exclaims.

“No! We’ve got to go out!” Heather says excitedly, going back into the house. I hear the jingling of keys and she twists the lock before closing to door, not even looking at me for a reaction. But if she had, it would’ve been one of dread. I didn’t want to go anywhere.

“Where are we going?” I ask, being pulled to the drive. The other girl, named Heather, skips to the black SUV in the driveway, keys jingling in her hand, “Friday’s!” She calls back to me.
“You still like Friday’s right?” Kristen asks, opening her door. I shrug then nod, though I’m not really hungry and climb in the back of the truck.

Kristen and Heather are best friends. I’ve known them since I was fourteen, Kristen’s dad works with mines and they used to come over sometimes when I lived here since I didn’t really know anyone else in the neighborhood, not going to school here. Then last time I saw them was around the beginning of the summer.

“This is such a special occasion, we just can’t stay at home!” Heather says, “No matter how cheap you are, Krissy.”

“Yes well the party of three was a good idea before I saw Connor’s long face. You may be able to fool your dad, loser, but not me!”

I give the smallest smile. If anyone else had called me a loser, I’d probably jump out the truck.

“So, what’s up, zit face?”

I shake my head and look out the window.

“Oh so that’s how it’s going to be?” I hear Heather’s voice and a snap of her fingers. I see TGI Friday’s lights up the street.

There’s silence until we arrive. I can already tell it’s packed by all the cars, but we find a relatively close to the entrance spot and park. Getting out, Heather puts her arm in mines, and on my other side Kristen does a cheesy yawn and stretch and puts an arm around my waist. Then start running and pull me into the dinner-rushed restaurant.

At first, I thought I wasn’t hungry, but the scent of the food sent my stomach growling. Kristen smiles up at me, “I’m going to figure out what’s wrong sooner or later.” I just roll my eyes and look away in response. It’s a while before we get a table, but we get through it by mostly talking about what’s been up lately. I tell them I won Homecoming King, they aren’t surprised, but I don’t tell them what happened afterwards, or about the dares.

“So…” Heather smiles at me from across our table, “any new girlfriends?”

“Well, there was this girl, Kailie, but we broke up…yesterday.”

“Aw! Is that why you’re sad?” Heather asks a genuine pout on her face.

“Ha! Connor, this upset over a girlfriend? Yeah, right. Loser doesn’t have girl problems,” Kristen says and Heather nods in agreement before they both look back across the booth to me. I put my elbow on the table and skim over the menu.

“How’s Natey-bear?” Heather grins. I look up slightly; something feels as if it’s stabbing me in the stomach. Luckily, the waiter comes before I can reply. We order quickly and he takes the menus and leaves. I sit back up.

“Kristen, what would you do if Heather told you she was a lesbian?”

Heather starts choking on her water. They lock eyes for a moment. Kristen pushes Heather’s blonde fringe off her face and Heather pushes Kirsten’s black glasses up her nose a little. Kristen looks back to me, “Well we’d make out of course,” she shrugs.

I feel my eyes grow, “What?”

They laugh. “Kidding,” She waves her hand, “Maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’m sure if Heather were to randomly come out to me I’m sure she’d be at least a little confused. And I’ve always kind of wanted to try going that way,” she smirks at me, then Heather, who nods at me and laughs a bit.

“But, you’re not gay,” I notice that they don’t tense, or get unusually quiet, or start avoiding eyes.

“Yeah, but we’re best friends, have been for five years. I’m not nearly as close to anyone as I am Heather. When you’re best friends like that, it’s only really just a little away from a real relationship. If we were to decide to try it out, everything would stay the same, there would just be less…sexual frustration,” she wiggles her eyebrows and Heather rolls her eyes.

“Besides, we’ve kissed before. We decided we’d still be just best friends afterwards, but, yeah, we’ve kissed.”

My mouth drops this time, “Seriously?” I ask, maybe a little too harsh.

“I didn’t know you were so homophobic,” Kirsten raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of Heather’s water.

“I’m not!” I’m quick to protest. Or…am I? “I just…” I trail off and the girls wait for me to continue, but before I can, our plates are set on out table. As they start to dig in, I see a girl about to walk past our table. She’s got short hair in a bob and is only wearing a tank top with her breasts nearly tumbling over the top.

“Hey, sweetie,” She smirks, slowing at our table. This has happened before. Girls have come up to a table where Kristen, Heather, and me are sitting and just ignore them while flirting with me, the thought that I could be dating one of them not even crossing their minds. And Kristen and Heather start talking quietly to themselves, trying not to be cock blocks…unless they pick up some sort of ‘bad vibe’ as they like to say, from the girl. The girls who give the bad vibes are usually the hottest.

Kristen slurps a noodle past her lips and gives a short ‘ha’ laugh, “Sweetie, he’s gay. Can’t you tell? His jeans are as tight as yours.”

My face heats up and I try to keep from gasping. That’s only because these jeans are old, from years ago, that I found in the closet! The girls face gets red too, she looks over to my company, then back to me, then she smirks and says “Damn.” before walking away.

“Kristen!”

My heat starts beating fast and my entire body has goose bumps. I have to get out.
“Zit Face!” Kristen says back and I start trying to beckon the waiter. I’m breathing hard and gnawing my bottom lip. Kristen looks to her best friend and Heather immediately slips out her seat, and across to next to me. She takes my face in her hands, making me look at her, “Loser, calm down,” She says, slowly.

“Stop calling me loser!” I mutter, distorted by her hands on my cheeks.

“No. Loser, listen to me. Calm the fuck down. Just because one girl thinks you’re gay doesn’t mean that everyone in here is judging you. She doesn’t even know you! You live an hour away!” My vision is starting to blur and my heart is thumping against my ribcage, hurting with every beat.

I don’t care if there are a hundred people in here; one of them doesn’t like me. I have to get out.

The waiter finally comes and Kirsten tells him to get the bill and take out boxes.
I notice the worried look the girls give each other. Heather lets go of me and I get up as she does, I can’t get out of there fast enough. I feel their eyes on me, judging me. I feel them. I know Kristen is on my trail.

“Loser!” She calls as I stomp to the truck. I try to pull on the door, but it’s locked. She reaches to me and I start hunching over. I start to pull at my hair, tugging too hard and trying not to scream. Kristen pulls my hands from my head and hugs me tight, restraining my arms. “Breathe, breathe. Just breathe,” she mutters into my chest and I obey.

“I thought you’d gotten over this,” she says quietly. I shake my head. She lets me go and sits on the asphalt of the dirty parking lot ground. She tugs my leg and I sit down next to her, between her father’s SUV and another car.

“Connor, you can tell me, is something happening at school?” She sounds like a mother and it embarrasses me, I look up to the night sky and take in another deep breath, grateful for the fresh air.

“Loser…”

Kristen and Heather started calling me ‘loser’ and ‘zit face’ when I was fourteen. Loser because I didn’t know anyone in this city, and zit face because I got a zit once and freaked out about going to school the next day and Heather had to put cream and make up on it for me. Only that really wasn’t the only reason. When they first started calling me names, I hated them for it, because I thought it meant they didn’t like me, so I didn’t really want to hang out with them anymore. We got into a fight and didn’t talk for a week, after that week she comes back over and tells me she doesn’t call me names because she doesn’t like me, it’s because she knows I hate it. This confused me even more, but then she said she’d noticed that I can’t stand having people not like me. She kept saying something about it being mental or I don’t really know, I ignored that part, but she said she kept calling me those names so I’d get over it. To this day, they are still the only people I know who have called me a name.

I hear footsteps and rustling and turn my head to see Heather running to us. Kristen gets off the ground and takes the bags from the other girl. Heather unlocks the doors and gives me a hug and smile before I get into the backseat.

On the ride back to my father’s, they turn the radio up loud and sing along, which keeps a small smile on my face. I keep the window rolled down for the breeze so I don’t get sick.

They pull into the driveway and turn the music down. Heather blows the horn and Kristen hands me my take out bag. They give me stretched hugs between the seats and tell me to visit again soon and call if I need to talk to someone. I open the car door and see Chels opening the door, waving. Heather rolls down her window as I close the door and smiles at me. “Connor, remember, not everyone cares about you as much as you think they do,” she says, and it sounds familiar. I nod and give her the tiniest smile in return.

Chelsea goes back upstairs before I go in. Walking into the house, I first go to the kitchen, sighing and follow the scent of cigars into the furnished basement. Robert notices me in the doorway and smiles, waving me over and telling me to sit down. He’s still wearing a work shirt and pants, but no tie. He stands as I sit down and goes over to the mini fridge, getting another beer, before sitting back down. He hands it to me, smirking and says, “Hey, you’re almost eighteen, right,” What a great parent…

We just sit in silence for a while; watching some action movie while I try not to cough from the smoke of his cigar. I notice I haven’t thought about how Nate told me he was gay just hours ago in a while.

“Dad,” I mutter quietly, even though I keep my eyes on the flat screen, I know he’s turned his head to me, “Do you remember Evan?” It’s a…vague question. I know he remembers his own son. I probably should’ve asked something more like ‘Will you ever speak to Evan again?’ or… ‘Have you forgiven Evan, yet?’ But I don’t take it back.

There’s a short pause and out my peripheral vision I can see my dad downing his beer. When he’s done there’s another pause, then, “Who?”