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A to Z - 31. Chapter 31: The Universe Shifts
No special warnings for this chapter.
Questions and issues raised in this chapter or any other chapter can be discussed at the A to Z story thread here: http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/40860-a-to-z/
October 20
There’s no pretending that nothing important happened today. In the rest of the world, wars started, laws were passed, volcanoes erupted and so on. And these are important, probably. Here in Blackburn, nothing much is supposed to happen. In this little, narrow world inhabited by one dirty, stupid, runaway kid who happens to be gay – absolutely nothing of importance takes place. Daily survival happens quietly, consistently, and without notice. That's how it's supposed to work.
Instead, the earth moved today. It happened at lunch, in the far corner of the cafeteria, at my very empty table, while I was hiding behind a book after eating the usual school lunch.
Zander, possibly the most beautiful boy on the face of the planet, parked himself across from me. No Kaz or Terry or any of the other people he hangs out with. Just Zander. Himself.
It’s hard to believe now, and it was harder to believe then.
“Hey, Andy,” he greeted me quietly. He seemed unsure of himself. Maybe whatever bothered him the other day still bothered him now. Zander kept his head down, focusing instead on extracting his lunch from a brown paper bag.
“Hi…Zander.”
Why is it that this boy shuts down my brain and my vocal cords?
Zander unwrapped a sandwich, and tore into it, as if he had been starving for days. I knew that feeling. I could relate. On the other hand, his determined eating cut off any conversation, which was probably a good thing. I watched him warily, waiting for trouble to begin.
When he polished off the sandwich, he took a deep breath. For the first time, he looked at me. Then he looked away for a second, but his eyes returned to mine. I stared back, getting ready to bolt, preparing for the storm about to hit.
He seemed to ready himself for something. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
“What is it?” I was all caution.
Zander took a quick breath. “Mr. Karpus needs me to do a figure study. And I wanted to ask if you’d pose and let me draw you. I understand if you don’t want to, but I thought that maybe you’d be willing to do it.”
The words tumbled out of his mouth, all in a rush, like children in a hurry to get out of class before the teacher remembers to assign homework.
He paused. He inhaled again. Now that he’d gotten it out, Zander seemed to relax a little.
What was that he wanted? I couldn't. Not in a million lifetimes. But somehow, I found it impossible to say no.
Half of me wanted to run, and the other half wanted to play for time. “What would I need to do?”
“Starting Tuesday, you’d need to stay after class in the art studio for a few days, so I can do some sketches. Then, when Karpus picks one of them to develop, you’d have to stay again while I work that one up.”
Again, the words hurrying out, nearly falling over themselves in their haste to get into the air between us.
Then the realization of what he was asking dawned. He’d be staying after school. With me. Dangerous. Wonderful. Scary. What if the whole thing goes sour, like things always do? And why was he asking me, of all people? I couldn't do this. No way. I'd have to invent a reason to turn him down. But, God, I wanted to do it. To actually be alone in the same room with him.
Then he was speaking again. Even his voice was beautiful.
“Like I said, I understand if you don’t want to, but…please?”
Again, Zander’s deep brown eyes met mine, hopeful and pleading. It showed clearly in his face. All my carefully thought out reasons to refuse him dissolved. Ignoring all the possible dangers, I couldn’t say no.
“Um. Sure. OK.”
Relief flooded his features, as if his whole being had been holding its breath. He smiled, and the sun came out. My dark corner of the cafeteria lit up with it.
“Thanks,” he said grinning, “you have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
My gut churned and my heart raced.
“No problem.”
At least that's what I thought at the time. Now, sitting here in my library hidey-hole, my heart racing just thinking about spending time after school with Zander, I can't imagine how I'm ever going to control myself around him for so long. What the hell was I thinking?
October 25
Life is officially weird now. The world is turned on its head. Yesterday, Terry actually slipped her arm through mine after lab and marched me over to her table in the cafeteria. She turned to me with a dangerous look in her eye.
“You are eating at this table today,” she stated flatly. “Put your backpack down here. You are joining me and my friends. They will love you.”
This was one determined girl. And maybe this time, I didn’t want to contradict her.
“All right.” I complied, meekly setting my pack on a chair.
Terry let out a puzzled, frustrated sigh.
“Andy. You were supposed to put up a fight on this.”
“Sorry,” I said innocently. “Do you want me to go now?”
“No!” she snorted, grabbing my pack. “I’m holding this for ransom. Now go buy your lunch or whatever it is you do, and come back soon.”
By the time I returned with my tray, she had been joined by Kaz and Zander.
“Hey, Andy! Glad you could make it!” Kaz said cheerfully. Zander looked up at me, startled. A pleased look skittered across his face for a moment.
Terry turned and pointed to a chair next to her, opposite Zander. I sat.
“You actually know these two guys?” she asked, wondering.
I nodded. “We’ve met.”
“Andy comes to school way early to work out, even before me and Zander. We met in the showers,” put in Kaz.
I could feel my face burn at that one.
“Andy’s in my Advanced Algebra and art classes,” added Zander, looking at his lunch.
“What, and you never told me?” Terry asked him in disbelief. Or was she asking me?
Zander and I looked at each other for a second. Then he started to laugh, and I smiled. I didn’t really get the joke, but it isn’t possible to frown when Zander smiles.
“I’m sorry,” I offered. “I didn’t mean to spoil it for you.”
“Well,” said Terry a little ruffled, “I’m going to make it official anyway. Andy, this is my boyfriend, Kaz, and this is my other friend Zander, who is sometimes out of his mind.”
“Hey! What do you mean, sometimes?”
And suddenly, just like that, we all relaxed. Even with my anxiety about being with other people, I had fun sitting with them. It was clear that they’d grown up together, that they shared jokes and experiences, and that they were tight. Despite that, they tried to include me, and I felt welcome.
Welcome. Included. A warm feeling spread through me. Is this what it feels like to make friends? Funny, isn’t it? Five days ago, I had none, now I seem to have three.
Then, at the end of the school day today, I sat for Zander’s sketches for the first time, after art class. He came up to me as I started to pack up my stuff at the end of the period.
“Would you mind just working on your drawing right there for a little longer?” he asked.
“Sure. I can do that,” I said, thinking he wasn’t ready to begin.
I got engrossed in my sketches again. I didn’t realize for a few minutes that Zander had gotten out his sketchbook and was working furiously. Maybe he’d gotten an idea. I saw him glance up at me. He smiled sheepishly.
“I’ve already got you in this pose, so I thought I’d finish the rough sketch.”
“So that’s it, then?” I felt disappointed.
“Nope. Sorry. Now I need you to sit over there.” Zander pointed to a chair by the window near his usual worktable.
“How should I sit?” I had no idea how this should be done.
“I don’t really know. Just get comfortable.”
That was a tall order. The chair is one of those old, wooden, straight-backed things, with a flat seat and decades of paint drippings on it. Built for utility, not for ease.
I turned it to face the window and sat. In about five seconds, that got old. After several different shifts of position, I found myself with my feet on the chair, arms wrapped around my knees, eyes on the sky. I was suddenly conscious that Zander was looking at me. Watching me. I was in exactly the position I’d tried to avoid for weeks. Now I was the focus of his attention. What would he see? Would the insecurity I felt show? Eventually, something about the way the clouds appeared to race across my field of vision seemed fascinating, and I forgot to be self-conscious. The sky distracted me from my worry. I stopped fretting about where I was.
I could have held that curled up position for hours. I had done it this summer, waiting out storms, watching the daylight fade over the farm, or just watching the world go by while I rested. Now I was doing it again.
“Hey, Andy, you awake?” Zander’s voice cut into my consciousness. He was putting his stuff away, getting ready to go.
I shook my head to clear it and uncurled.
“You looked like you were a million miles away,” Zander said, smiling.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Must be something really deep.”
“No. Just letting my head get nice and empty. Like usual.”
Zander shook his head at that. “You’re funny, man. Look, I’ve got to go to practice. Thanks a million for today. Can we do this again Thursday?”
Again. We’d be here again, just him and me.
“Okay.”
I can’t wait.
October 28
For the past three days, I’ve been allowed to eat with Terry, Zander and Kaz. It’s like they expect me or something, even though other kids come and sit there, too. I've been introduced to some of them, but don't ask me for their names. As long as I sit at one end, and try to keep too many curious eyes from resting on me, I guess I’ll be okay.
Yesterday, I spent another hour after school letting Zander draw me. I tried to get comfortable so I could think about something else. Otherwise, I got very conscious that Zander was looking at me, staring at all my details, drawing everything he could find out about me.
At least, Zander never talks while he works. He’s all concentration. I’m grateful for that. No probing. No questions means no lies. I really don’t want to lie to Zander.
He had me crumple up in a chair; head down, like I was crying. He asked me to stand, leaning against the wall. That was hardest, because I had to concentrate on leaning just so without shifting too much. Last, he had me push a couple of worktables together, so I could lie down, stretched out on top of them. This, I was only too glad to do. Before I knew it, Zander was shaking me awake.
For an instant, I registered that he’d touched me. Then it was gone.
“Andy. Sorry, man. You fell asleep.”
I wasn’t at all sorry. I wish I could have stayed asleep so that he’d have kept his hand on my shoulder. I can still feel it.
I can't believe we've already met for twice for me to pose – that time just flew by. The first time I was really nervous, but this time, I was able to relax. And unlike Terry, Zander didn't question me, or probe for information. He just drew. It makes me wonder if Zander is really dangerous, like I thought earlier. We’re going to meet one more time, next Tuesday. I'd really like it if I was wrong. Well, I guess I'll have to wait and see. Lots of life to lead between now and then.
For example, while the earth may have shaken and all that, school moves on. Surprisingly, without Dad to beat the living shit out of me over anything he felt insulted about, I seem to have pulled off a decent quarter. We’ll see.
Today is the last day of the marking period. From what I can tell, I am passing all my courses. Mrs. Gersheimer just smiled at us when someone asked about grades in class. I've gotten A's on all her tests, so I'm pretty confident there. And what about my other teachers? Mr. Warfield is giving me an A- in English. I think this must be a first for me. History with Mrs. Landon is a mystery, but it can't possibly be lower than a B+. Physics with Mr. Hopewell looks good – maybe a B?
In physics, we changed lab partners. We’re supposed to change every quarter. Terry got paired with a girl I don’t know, and I now do my labs with Dave the drama guy. OK, he’s not so much into drama as he is into the sets, and staging, and lighting and all that. We seem to get along, anyway.
The only course where I have no idea is Art. Mr. Karpus took away my sketchbook this afternoon to look at it. In a matter of seconds, he was back at my desk.
“Where is the rest?” he demanded.
“The rest, sir?”
“Yes. Everything else you’ve done this quarter.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I knew it was too good to last. Something was seriously wrong here. Had I missed assignments? Had I not been working on what he’d asked me to do? Was there some instruction I didn’t understand?
“I gave you my sketchbook, sir. I don’t know…”
“Look, Andrew,” he said, not unkindly, “Your sketchbook has, what, fifty pages in it? And we’ve been in school for forty five days? But the thing is, you’ve got only four pages of work to show me here.”
He produced my sketchbook, and flipped it open. Individual drawings filled the page. Some moderately sized, some tiny, all separate images crowding one another for space. Sketchbooks are expensive. I did my best to crowd my ideas together into the smallest possible area to save on paper. I even used both sides of each sheet.
“I’m sorry. I tried to do what you asked me to…” I was ashamed.
“In about four square inches a day?” Mr. Karpus asked me incredulously. He practically shouted, “What were you thinking?”
I shrank away from him. His eyes flashed. Other students were looking in my direction. Images of an enraged Dad flashed into my mind. Was he going to hit me, here in front of everyone? Panic time.
I couldn’t say anything. Mr. Karpus passed a hand over his face and sighed.
“OK, Andrew, I’m going to go back to my office and look at these with a magnifier. But I want to talk with you after class about this.” He turned and stalked off.
After class, with everyone out of the room, Mr. Karpus sat down at my worktable.
“Listen, Andrew, I’m sorry I spoke sharply to you.”
“No, sir, it was my fault. I was stupid. I should have realized…”
“Andrew.” He interrupted me. I looked up.
“I’m trying to apologize here. I’m not usually a tyrant. I was just, well, surprised. It’s not often I get a collage instead of a series of sketches, you know?”
“It’s OK, sir.” I put my head down again. “You had every right to yell at me. I didn’t follow instructions.”
“Perhaps you could tell me why you drew in such small patches?” Mr. Karpus asked gently.
Truth. I wasn’t going to dodge out of it.
“Sketchbooks are expensive, sir, and I’m short of cash at home. I just don’t want to use mine up too fast.”
He nodded.
“I see. I appreciate your honesty. As it happens, there is something we can do about that.”
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t like to be admit to being poor. Nobody ever does. I sure didn’t want anyone else to know.
“Of course,” he went on, “you weren’t here for the first weeks of class. Students know that I have a special source for art supplies which can be bought for less than the going rate out at the big box stores. If you order a sketchbook through me, I can get you one for a lot cheaper. Will that do?”
What could I say? I nodded.
“And will you promise me that you’ll do just one sketch per page from now on?” he pressed, the ghost of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
Another nod.
“And can you accept my apology for raising my voice to you?”
I nodded again.
“Thank you, Andrew. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am grateful for it. Now get out of here and get on with your real life after school,” he said, smiling again.
I got.
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