Being Wrong

Travis shut his eyes and allowed his fingers to move across the guitar strings almost without thought as he sung the words to the song into the microphone. He remembered how hard this had been once, when he was still learning, but now he could pick up new songs quickly and allow them to flow out of him as naturally as speaking.

He opened his eyes and looked out at an audience he'd almost forgotten beneath the sounds of the music he was making. It was a powerful feeling, having the attention of dozens of other students on him at once - to draw people, just for a short time, into his world.

If they had let him, he'd have spent every lunch break on this small stage in the courtyard, but others liked the spotlight too. Bands and dancers, the occasional drama group. Many of those people were his friends, though, so Travis didn’t mind taking his turn as an audience member whenever it was time for someone else to perform.

Most of Travis' audience was made up of girls, or at least it was mostly girls who bothered to come up to the stage and give him their full attention. His acoustic guitar and smooth, gentle voice seemed to lure them in. It was a pity for everyone that he was gay, really.

Travis had the full attention of a guy today, though. One he didn't recognise. He was standing in front of the stage and staring up at Travis like Travis was doing something amazing. He looked maybe a little younger than Travis' seventeen years and had a fringe of dark brown hair not quite long enough to obscure his bright blue eyes.

The guy held himself oddly, shoulders too stiff and one hand clutching at the shirt sleeve that covered his opposite arm. He looked anxious, on edge, but in a gentle way. He reminded Travis of a shy animal offering the gift of its delicate trust in exchange for a valued treat.

Travis smiled at him, but the boy was too absorbed in the music to notice. Well, Travis could hardly be upset by that. He took a deep breath in and drove renewed passion into his voice as he sung the lyrics. If the boy noticed that Travis was now directing the sappy love song at him, he showed no signs of it. His eyes followed Travis’ fingers on the guitar strings as he swayed gently from side to side.

After the song ended, Travis let out a deep sigh and turned off his microphone. He needed a break. He sat down on the edge of the small stage and set his guitar aside before pulling his blazer off. KC rolled a bottle of water across the stage towards him and he shot her a grateful smile as he grabbed it.

A quiet twang jerked Travis’ attention back to his guitar. The boy who’d caught his eye was running his fingers over the strings. "Hey! Who said you could touch that?"

The boy took a quick step back, putting himself out of arm's reach of Travis. His shoulders hunched up and he ducked his head, but his eyes stayed alert on Travis' face. Most people would have just apologised or been a passive aggressive dick about it, but Travis had set off this boy's fight or flight response with nothing more than a gentle scold.

As soon as Travis glanced away, he saw the boy quietly retreat out of the corner of his eye. Well, so much for that miniscule possibility of actually having a shot with a cute guy for once.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him. I think he might be retarded," Eliza said. She’d come up to lean on the stage in front of him as most of the audience began to wander off.

"Liza!" KC took the water bottle back from Travis just so that she could give her younger sister an admonishing bop on the head with it. "Don’t call people that.”

"But what if he actually is?" Eliza asked. "I think he is, anyway. He's sixteen, but he's in my geography class and he couldn't even find Sydney on a map."

KC made a face. "I don't think that automatically means he's retarded."

"Well, no, but he’s just… kind of weird."

KC, who prided herself on being her own kind of weird, just shrugged. Her hair was shorn short on the sides with a tuft of bright purple curls left long on top. It was definitely against the school dress code, as were the three piercings she had in one ear, but she was top of just about every class she was in so none of the teachers cared too much. “Weird is fine.”

“It’s all fine, I’m just saying that I think he has some sort of problem so we should be nice to him.”

Travis frowned as he turned his head to look in the direction the boy had retreated, but he'd already vanished. Well, damn. Retarded or not, it seemed like maybe the kid had some issues. Travis regretted snapping at him. It was just that his guitar was the only object he owned that he really cared about, and he couldn't afford to replace it if something happened to it.

Travis pushed himself to his feet and picked up his guitar. Maybe if he started playing again he'd lure the guy back in.

#

Charlie pressed himself back against one of the school buildings and took in deep, gulping breaths. He couldn't calm down. It's all right, he tried to tell himself. You just made a mistake, it's all right. He couldn't stop feeling like he'd ruined something important, though. He wanted to be around the music, but how could he when the boy who made it was angry with him?

The music started up again after a minute, the singer's voice as smooth and calming as ever. Charlie slid down the wall and pressed his face into his hands as his breathing slowed. He was fine. Things would be fine.

Charlie let his eyes drift shut as he listened to the music, but as soon as they were closed an image of the musician's face twisted with annoyance as he snapped at Charlie flashed through his mind. Charlie twisted his head to the side as he tried to escape the memory. He didn't want that in his head every time he heard the boy's music.

Rocking slowly back and forth where he sat against the wall, Charlie did his best to remember what the musician had looked like before he'd gotten angry, when he'd been absorbed in his music. He remembered his expression first, relaxed and focussed, deep brown eyes that had seemed so gentle until there was anger in them. Brown hair had clung to the sweat on his forehead and curled around his ears.

That had been all Charlie had taken in before his gaze had jumped to the boy's fingers on the guitar strings. He had been fascinated by how quickly and smoothly they had moved, no trace of hesitation. They had seemed like gentle hands to Charlie, too skilled to ever be used for violence. Charlie had wanted to touch them as much as he'd wanted to touch the guitar, to feel the mix of callous and soft skin, but that he hadn't dared.

Charlie's rocking slowed and then finally stopped as he continued listening to the music. He was under no threat. He would just keep his distance until the musician had time to forget about his misstep.

#

The boy didn't reappear again during break, not even after Travis surrendered the stage to a friend's band so that he could eat some lunch, but there was something about him that stuck in Travis' mind. Wide blue eyes that had looked at him like... like he had mattered. Like Travis' music had enthralled him.

So when Travis walked into his maths class to find the boy sitting in the back corner staring intently down at his textbook, Travis found it hard to keep his eyes off of him. Suddenly, ridiculously, Travis felt nervous. Should he sit next to the boy? Would that be weird? Yes, he decided, and sat a few seats down instead.

Charlie. That was the boy's name, Travis learnt when Mr Jackson read the roll. The boy's voice was soft, well matched to his features and general demeanour. Yeah, Travis definitely felt bad about snapping at him.

It wasn't until Mr Jackson called on Charlie to give the answer to one of the problems that Travis got a taste of what Eliza had mentioned. Charlie immediately froze, posture stiff and eyes wide. He pressed his lips together in a firm line and shook his head.

Travis opened his mouth to intervene somehow, to say something, but shut it again. All he knew was what Eliza had said, and what could he really say about that? He could hardly announce her theory to the class. Charlie definitely wouldn't thank him for that.

It didn't didn't matter, though, because Mr Jackson quickly moved on to someone else and left Charlie alone. Charlie didn't relax after that, though. When Travis glanced over, he was staring down at his notebook as he drew spirals on it, his expression tense. A few minutes later, Mr Jackson wandered over and looked through his work.

Mr Jackson kept his voice quiet, but Travis was close enough to overhear. "You've done all your work. You got the question I asked you to answer correct. Why didn't you give me the answer?"

Charlie shrugged, an anxious, exaggerated gesture. He swayed forwards and backwards before abruptly stilling. His eyes were firmly downcast.

"I'll tell you what," Mr Jackson said. "You work as hard as you did today, and I won't call on you again. As long as you're getting your work done, I'll leave you alone."

Charlie let out a long sigh as he nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief as some of the anxiety in his body began to dissipate. As Mr Jackson walked away Charlie bit down on the back of his hand as he rocked backwards and forwards a few times before abruptly stopping and turning his attention back to his maths textbook.

Well, that had certainly been odd, Travis thought as he forced his eyes back to his own still only half finished work. Not retarded odd, though. That implied a low IQ, and Charlie wouldn't be getting questions right in a maths class of this level if that was the case. Just... extreme social anxiety or something. Travis had no clue, but he decided it probably wasn't wrong to feel drawn in by those wide, blue eyes.

#

The rest of the school day passed much the same as the first half had. It was an overwhelming jumble spiked with moments of acute fear and shame. By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, Charlie was almost glad to see his grandma waiting for him outside the school gates.

"Did you have fun today?" Charlie's grandma asked as she led him back towards the car.

"No," Charlie said, because he hadn't. He really, really hadn't.

The look his grandma gave him suggested that had been the wrong answer. "Did you make any friends?"

Charlie shook his head and stared out across the parking lot. He didn't want to have a conversation. He wanted to go home and hide in his room and listen to his music, but he couldn’t do that because he still didn’t have any batteries.

Charlie's grandma let out a loud sigh. "Did you try talking to any of the other kids?"

Charlie shook his head again. The concrete the parking lot was paved with was near white and seared his eyes. He squinted against it as they navigated down the rows of cars.

"If you don't talk to the other kids, you'll never make friends," Charlie's grandma said like that wasn't obvious, like he didn't know that. "Tomorrow you should try talking to someone. Go up to them and introduce yourself."

Charlie nodded his head, but it wasn't an agreement. Just acknowledgement of her words. Charlie would never just approach someone like that.

They got into the car and Charlie buried his face in his hands, blocking out the light. It hurt more than just his eyes. It was just light, but somehow when Charlie was already on edge it was enough to cause him deep distress.

When they finally got home Charlie immediately retreated to his room, citing a need to do homework. He left the lights off and cocooned himself in his blankets, blocking out as much of the world as he could. Wrapped up tightly in the dimly lit room, Charlie felt a little better.

Eventually Charlie emerged and took out his school books. Most of his teachers had excused him from taking part in homework since it was his first day, but Charlie was aware of just how behind he was. He'd only fall further behind everyone else if he did less work than them.

After he'd done what he could of the homework he'd been assigned, Charlie flipped to a map of Australia in his geography book. Sydney was exactly where he had thought it was, but he stared at it anyway, seared it into his memory. It was unlikely he'd be asked that exact question again, but if he was there would be no doubt in his mind next time.

Charlie wasn't hungry, but his body was, so when his grandma called him to dinner he went without complaint. The lasagna she'd made was her least offensive meal yet, but Charlie picked at it and ate slowly. He'd skipped lunch and his stomach was cramping from hunger, but it also felt like it would reject anything he put in it. He ate enough to calm the cramps before claiming he felt unwell and retreating back to his room.

The sounds of the neighbours music were like a siren's call, luring Charlie out of the door and through the gate, over to the block of flats. Thunder rumbled and the first few fat drops of rain began to fall as Charlie settled into his usual spot next to the door. That was okay. The porch was sheltered and Charlie hadn't been planning on going anywhere for a while anyway.