Dear Jack, Count Me In

Jack’s P.O.V

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God damnit.

At first I wasn’t that mad at Zack for taking my socks but now it’s getting out of hand. I huff and stomp all the way to my dresser. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, I grab my Superman socks and put them on. They don’t have a cape like my batman ones, but oh well.

I get my backpack and hurry up the stairs. Zack’s at the table, filling his a bowl with Captain Crunch pebbles and milk. He looks dazed.

“Hey, what’s got you in a trance?” Zack looks up, obviously startled. He shrugs.

“Nothing…” I look at him incredulously.

“Yeah sure, whatever.”

Zack groans, “I feel like a fucking teenage boy right now, fawning over someone else.” I raise my brow at this. Zack hasn’t liked anyone since Laylah, an old fling, that had cheated on him with a jerk that ran the old supermarket.

“And who might this lovely lady be?” I say in a scottish accent.

Zack rolls his eyes and whispers, “It’s not a girl.” I’m taken aback. The last time Zack had dated a guy was in high school.

“Who is he?”

“That Rian kid.” I sigh.

I say, “Well do you know if he’s gay too?” There’s not a huge age difference between them. They could work...it’s just I don’t want Zack to get his heart broken by a kid that isn’t even the same sexual orientation as him.

And yes, I’m gay. Get over it. And no, I don’t like Zack, or anyone at the moment for that matter.

Zack shakes his head.

I sigh, “Dude, this might end up really good or really bad for you. You know how this could totally blow up in your face, right?”

Zack protests and says, “Well you weren’t in the gym yesterday. His eyes were basically reading: please fuck me. If that’s not enough proof, I don’t know what is.” I shrug.

“Then go after him. If you know he’s interested.” Zack nods.

I eat my Captain Crunch and leave for school.

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I come in late like usual and go through attendance. I announce that there will be a music identifying activity we’ll be doing, so I get a feel of what everyone likes. I had put together a playlist full of different genres.

I say, “This is music class and you’re seniors. Some of these songs have cuss words them. Don’t be a baby about it, you’ll deal.” I play the first song. American Idiot by Green Day. A few people write some stuff down. I look at the people who don’t incredulously.

“Raise your hand if you love Green Day!” A few people raise their hand, including the kid that I yelled at yesterday. I smile and say, “And you kids,” I extend my arms, “are amazing.” The other song comes on, “And this is,” I bump my head on the wall and say, “for you girls.” Hung Up by Hot Chelle Rae comes on. I hate these people. Almost no one writes it down. I play another song. Pressure by The 1975. They’re pretty good. The majority of the class writes it down. The next song makes me just want to completely break out with laughter. Which I do. Fuck Her Gently by Tenacious D.

Some write it down. Some laugh. And some just look at me with a weird face. The only person who writes it down is Alex. I laugh. I’m starting to like this kid a little more. I look over at him, and notice dark spots below his eyes and bruises trailing around his neck. Hm. I’ll have to talk to him about it…

After listening to the better half of the playlist, I make them write a small paragraph, reflecting about why they liked some songs and why they didn’t.

When they’re done, I say, “Hey! Hope you guys liked this period. Next time, bring a CD of your favorite album and circle your favorite song. We’ll be playing them for the class. Your only homework is to jam out to your favorite music.” I laugh. I say, “Now leave! Scam!” I lean against my desk. A few of the girls wink at me when they walk out, but my focus is on the boy wearing the gray beanie in the back - Alex.

He’s the last one out.

Before he goes, I ask, “Hey, how’d you get those bruises?” Alex shrugs.

“I fell.”

I sigh, “You can’t expect me to believe that. I fell the other day and you don’t see bruises littering my neck.” I narrow my eyes, walking up to him. I squint and examine his neck. “These...these look like fingerprints.” Alex backs away.

“I...I need to go.” Alex practically runs out of the room. I huff, wondering what could have happened to him. Falling? No. Tripping? No. Play fighting? Possibly. Some freaky role play sex game? Realistic, but probably not. Domestic violence? Yeah.

I sigh. Sitting down, I fap-I mean flip through a random magazine.

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During lunch, Zack comes in, grumbling.

“What’s wrong, mate?” I say in an ozzy accent. Zack sits on a table and lays down. He wipes his face with his hands, making groaning noises. “Okay dude, you’re making me think two things. You’re either upset or really horny.”

Zack shoots me the evil eye and says, “I’m fucking both. I mean seriously - the dude eye fucks me in gym but then afterwards, I see him talking the slut of the senior class. This guy knows how to mess with my feelings.”

I smirk, “I wonder if he knows how to mess with anything else of yours.” Zack throws the magazine I was reading at me. I duck, the magazine hitting the wall.

Zack says, “I mean...I’m twenty-fucking-three. And this guy’s seventeen! A kid! He’s got to be bi…”

I say, “Well either way, he’s into guys. So there. But age difference is nothing. I heard of this one girl that was like fourteen that had a gigantic crush on this fifty-two year old, Woody Harrelson. You know him, he played...ah, what was his name? Oh yeah, Haymitch in the Hungry Games-”

“-Hunger Games.”

“Shut up. But two years later bam! They’re married and the girl’s prego with his freaky kids that’ll probably have some kind of incest relationship...Woody Allen type shit! But my point is that if a fifty two year old can marry someone with decades as an interval in their relationship, you can have a relationship with someone that’s only six years your junior.”

Zack says, “Yeah well, I like your analogy but I don’t wanna be called Woody-fucking-Allen! He raped his fourteen year old step daughter!”

“That’s not my point.”

“I know, but doesn’t it seem-” I slap him.

“What the FUCK was that for, Jack?!” He holds his jaw.

I sigh, “DUDE, I was having a Gandhi moment there! And you HAD to go and ruin it! Shit man, six years isn’t long. Get your shit together and grow a pair and ask this guy out!” Zack huffs.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him later.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I’ll talk to him later.”

“So you’re saying you’re taking my advice?”

Zack groans, knowing where I’m going with this, “Yes.”

“So I’m right. Go ahead Zack. Say it.”

“You’re right.” He says it in a low voice.

“I’m sorry I need to get some hearing aids. What did you say?”

“DO YOU NEED A Q-TIP?!” He huffs, “You’re right.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

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I drive home, listening to Fuck Her Gently.