Be Myself! - 29. Flying Pizzas, Flying Fists

As it turned out, I got used to Oliver’s new name a lot quicker than I expected. When Luce had suggested it for the first time, on the dirty floor of the ‘sex toilet’, I thought it was a bit weird. It did not seem to fit my boyfriend Oli; the name sounded like it belonged to a cat, or something out of a musical. My boyfriend was not the feline type (he had confessed a strange preference for reptiles and rodents), and his musical talents stopped at playing simple melodies on the recorder (in which he ironically sounded like a drowning cat). But thankfully this transition happened almost effortless on my part. By the time we left for school the next day, the name ‘Oliver’ rolled off my tongue with the same easiness that ‘Olivia’ once did.

Charlie and Luce were waiting for us at the school gates. They kept careful neutral expressions and postures until we were close enough for them to check if we looked cheerful or sad. Once they realised Oliver and I were smiling and happy to see them, though, they greeted us enthusiastically. “So everything went well?” Luce asked Oliver, squeezing him energetically. My poor boyfriend had to stop to recover his breath before he answered.

“Yes, it was fine. My parents call me Oliver now, and they’ll try to contact your parents at some point soon, maybe during the weekend. We want to know what kind of stuff we can do, like getting treatment and all that.”

“Yeah, we’ll need to talk about that.” Charlie did not sound very enthusiastic about it, though. She and Luce exchanged annoyed looks before turning towards Oliver again. “That will be the most frustrating part of the whole thing, be prepared,” Charlie warned.

“What? Getting treatment?” I asked. It did not make sense to me that, after so much struggle to figure out what Oliver needed, the worst was still to come.

“Yeah. We can talk more about it later, once your happiness dies down a bit. I don’t want to spoil it.” Charlie definitely did not sound happy.

“I’ve done some research, and I know the NHS pays for everything…” Oliver started to say, but Luce and Charlie rolled their eyes in rehearsed synchrony.

“Oh, they pay for it all right.” It was Luce who spoke this time. “But they take their time. Lots of it.” Oliver was starting to look worried, so at this point Luce and Charlie decided it was time to change the topic.

“How about we go look for the rest of our friends? I bet they want to hear your great news too!” Charlie said, and then proceeded to guide us to the rugby fields. She was wearing a flowy skirt that seemed to move on its own, despite the lack of a breeze. Yet, she did not look particularly feminine (or masculine for that matter. By now I should be questioning what “feminine” and “masculine” really meant). Still it was the first time my brain automatically gendered Charlie as female without me having to think too hard about it. Maybe something inside of me had snapped in place after witnessing Oliver’s coming out, or maybe I was just making the assumption that skirts must equal feminine, but at least it finally happened (I really hoped it was because of the first reason, though).

“Fine, fine.” Oliver let Charlie drag him away from the front gate, and Luce and I followed suit. The rest of the LGBTI Club, plus Edward and Emma, were waiting for us near the goalposts. Jean was hanging from Henry’s shoulders, kissing his neck every two seconds. Ariadne and Helena were hugging, with Edward standing almost too close for comfort while his sister stifled laughter at the situation. Hannah was reading a book on economics and capitalism and did not seem to care about her surroundings.

“Hey, guys, look who’s here!” Luce announced, making Hannah look up from her book. Jean jumped off Henry and stepped in front of Oliver and I, glaring at us and every visible part of our bodies for endlessly agonising seconds.

“Still no cock,” he told Oliver. “Still big cock,” he told me, then winked and tried to jump on my lap, but I moved away at the last second and he fell on the wet grass. “Fine, deny me my favourite toy! This is not over yet!” Almost directly in front of me, Henry winced and turned away, most likely hurt by Jean’s comment on my penis. I wanted to tell him Jean was being a jerk and he should not take it seriously, but I had a feeling it would not make much of a difference.

“Hi, guys, good morning,” Ariadne greeted us. “How are you?” Luce, Charlie, and I looked pointedly at Oliver, wondering if he was going to break the great news. He seemed a little unsure at first, but soon his face morphed into a confident smile.

“I told my family last night. Everything is fine, and my name is now Oliver,” he announced, grinning from ear to ear.

“You better call him that,” Luce added in a threatening tone directed specifically at Jean. The blond acted as if it did not concern him.

“Sure, why would we not?” Hannah asked, though judging by the way she was also looking at Jean, she knew perfectly well what Luce was trying to say.

“Ah, you know, just making a point,” Luce answered. The girls’ eyes locked and some kind of understanding must have passed through them, because soon Hannah was politely dragging Jean away for a ‘private talk’ and the others were thus free to shower Oliver with questions about his coming out.

“How was it?”

“What did your mum say?”

“What are you going to do now?”

“We should throw you a party! You totally deserve one!”

Little by little, in between the avalanche of questions, Oliver managed to tell the whole story. I did not speak unless he asked me to confirm certain details, and thankfully we managed to retell most of last night’s events before the bell rang. Jean and Hannah had not returned from their walk by the time we headed for the main building.

(...)

“You know, I still think you deserve a party,” Luce told Oliver during our first morning break. We were all together again, sitting in a big circle in an empty grassy area. The rugby fields were occupied by a group of big sixth-years running around and tackling each other to the ground. They could have been playing rugby, being in the right kind of field and all, but they did not have a ball; they were just being violent for the sake of it. So our group decided to stay clear of them (Jean tried to ask if he could join the game, but we dragged him out of there before any serious damage had been caused, though not necessarily to him) and head to the opposite direction.

Even though we were sitting in a circle, it felt like Oliver was at the centre of everything. I was sitting on his right side, with Charlie to his left, and Luce to her left. On my right sat Hannah, then Jean, Ariadne (the girls were obviously trying to keep him in check), Helena, Edward, Emma, and Henry closed the circle. Everyone looked at my boyfriend, watching his every move expectantly. If it were me, I would probably feel very embarrassed, but it was hard to tell how Oliver was feeling. He did not answer Luce immediately, so she elaborated on her idea more.

“I was thinking we could go for a group outing this weekend to celebrate. How about we all treat Oliver to a pizza? We could go on Saturday early afternoon before the place gets crowded with people, and we can have lots of fun together!” There were many murmurs of approval. We had never done something like this as the LGBTI Club, so my friends were probably excited, but everyone waited for Oliver’s final approval before bursting out in cheers.

“Thanks, Luce, I guess it would be nice…”

We decided to meet Saturday at midday at a very well-known pizzeria in the city centre. Luce would take care of the reservations, since she proposed the outing, and we would pay for our own food and share the cost of Oliver’s. My boyfriend tried to protest for getting everything for free, but we convinced him to accept it. This party would not be his party if he ended up having to pay for it (or so Hannah argued. Not even Oliver dared disagreeing with her).

Later that day, Oliver and I talked in private with Luce, Charlie, and Ariadne about my boyfriend’s coming out at school. Ariadne was sure her mother would be supportive and do what she could to help Oliver transition at school, but she thought it would be a good idea to discuss the details of everything over dinner. We decided to try to get all the parents together to make the plans. So, during the rest of the week, we acted as message pigeons for the adults, until we settled for having dinner at Oliver’s house on Sunday at eight o’clock with Ariadne and her mum, the Higgs, and the Hansons.

I was not entirely convinced Oliver’s family had the time to prepare food for so many people and the space to fit everyone around the table, but Mr Viñas insisted on playing host for the people who wanted to help his son. He assured us it would be a great pleasure preparing all the food and that we should not worry about space. He then checked everyone’s dietary requirements and ran to the nearest supermarket to get everything ready, even though it was still Friday.

(...)

On Saturday, Oliver and I left his house late because Sam needed help making his Master of the Universe plaque and insisted that only his brother’s fine calligraphy would be able to make it into a really epic reflection of his personality. Sam’s desperate plea for attention might have been more believable if Oliver actually had good handwriting (teachers still sometimes complained they could not understand his essays), but despite the obvious lie, we did what Sam wanted. Oliver did not have the heart to disappoint his little brother, and I had no other option but to wait for him. In the end, by the time we finally reached the pizzeria, everyone else was already there.

“Oh, finally! I thought you had given up!” Jean exclaimed. He was the first to see us approach the giant table at the back of the restaurant. One of his hands waved at us enthusiastically, while the other remained purposely pushed down Henry’s lap.

“My brother was trying to sidetrack us,” Oliver answered, approaching the table. The two remaining empty places were located at the head of the table and immediately next to it. The implication was obvious. “Do you really want me to sit there?” he asked, eyeing Hannah in particular, since she was sitting on the left of the head seat.

“It’s your party; it’s all about you. Sit and let’s get our orders in,” Hannah answered in a businesslike fashion. Oliver was probably too intimidated to disagree, so we took our places exactly as she wanted us to. On Hannah’s side of the table sat Jean, Henry, and Emma. Charlie, Luce, Edward, Helena, and Ariadne and were on my side. The table was almost touching the wall, meaning we could see most of the restaurant from our places (or at least Hannah’s side could. Mine was facing the wall).

A waiter soon came to take our orders. “Is this a party?” he asked us, trying to make some small talk as we checked our menus again to make sure we remembered what we wanted. “What is the occasion?”

“We’re celebrating the new stage in Oliver’s life,” Luce answered, pointing at Oliver while glaring at the waiter in such a way as to let him know he should not question her words or anyone’s identity. Thankfully he got the message.

“Great! I hope you enjoy your meals!” The waiter took our orders and left without making any further comments. Oliver was so embarrassed by Luce’s answer that when he spoke to the waiter, his voice sounded even higher than usual. He refused to open his mouth until the food arrived.

(...)

We had eaten about two-thirds of the food and consumed copious amounts of soft drinks and juice when a young boy entered the restaurant. Since he was alone, he was placed at the only table that could fit beside our giant group: a small, square one, with only two chairs. As soon as the boy approached, Henry’s face went pale and he slumped in his seat, as if trying to hide.

“What is your problem?” Jean whispered in Henry’s ear, getting as close as he could and making his voice sound straight out of a porn movie. The boy raised an eyebrow and sat facing the couple. Before Henry could say anything, the boy spoke.

“Cut it out, fags. I didn’t come here to get nauseous before I ate.” His voice sounded threatening enough, but it was still high like a child’s. It made the boy look like he was around twelve or thirteen at most, even though he was dressed in black jeans, a leather jacket, and a shirt with a giant skull that glared at anyone who landed their eyes on his chest. He was white-skinned and his hair was black, short, and surprisingly neat considering the rest of his appearance. He wore glasses too, of the big and round variety that made him look like a punk Harry Potter.

“Then sit somewhere else or turn away,” Jean answered without missing a beat. “Though I guess you can’t quite tear your eyes away from my sexy face, right?”

“Shut up before I turn that face blue,” the boy threatened Jean again, hissing dangerously. Ariadne grabbed Helena’s arm, though she did not seem scared. She was examining the boy, studying him carefully as if he was some kind of animal in a zoo.

“Feel free to try, though I would like it more if you played with my ass.” The boy growled in frustration at Jean’s answer, but because a waiter was coming to take his order, he did not do anything. As soon as the waiter was gone, he headed for the bathroom, eyeing Henry and Jean with such hatred that the brunet finally succeeded in disappearing under the table.

“What’s going on, Henry?” Helena asked, kicking towards him to get him back to his seat. Ariadne tried to stop her girlfriend, but in the end her plan worked. Henry sat down again, but kept facing the door to the mensroom.

“That guy, he…” Henry bit his lip. His face was so pale he could have become a ghost and none of us would notice. He tried to continue the sentence many times, until Jean put a supporting hand on his thigh. “He was the one who… who…” Henry gripped his arms where the scars from the metal rods were now painfully visible. We understood immediately.

“That guy? Seriously?” Helena asked, glancing doubtfully at the bathroom door. “He doesn’t look that scary.”

“He has friends, but he’s the leader,” Henry explained. He seemed unsure whether he should keep looking at the door or if he should try to disappear under the table again. “And he’s stronger than he looks.” Henry’s lips trembled and he leaned towards Jean, who promptly hugged him.

“Ah, well, if that’s the case, then all the more reason to teach him a lesson!” the blond exclaimed, grinning impishly.

“Please, don’t! He’ll go after me again!” Henry pleaded, but Jean did not listen.

“Nah, I’ll make sure he won’t be capable of going after anyone. Trust me.” Henry tried to protest, but the boy came out of the bathroom and slowly made his way back to our table. Jean made a point of hugging Henry very close, and pulled him in for a full kiss on the mouth just as the boy approached us.

“I told you to stop this bullshit!” the boy almost yelled. He was making an effort to keep his voice under control and not alert the pizzeria’s staff. I dreaded thinking that he could be doing this instinctively, as a consequence of having plenty of practice. If he could beat up Henry so badly, it was not hard to believe he would be the kind of person who liked to intimidate young gay couples on a regular basis.

“And I told you to come fuck my ass!” Jean answered loud and clear. The boy face-palmed, but kept his threatening stance. Helena started to get up to confront the boy, but Jean was much faster. Somehow he managed to get up, squeeze past Henry’s and Emma’s chairs and jump on the boy before Helena could do as much as push her chair backwards. “You’re just jealous of Henry and I, but no worries, I have plenty of space for you too!” And just like that Jean reached for the boy’s genitals.

The next couple of things happened far too quickly to register until it was too late. When the boy realised what Jean was trying to do, his face morphed into a look of sheer terror and he got out of the way. Jean did not react in time, so his body kept going even after his target was no longer there. The boy took the opportunity to punch Jean on the face. Our friend crashed into Ariadne with blood coming out of his nose and a nasty bruise forming along his left cheek, but he did not seem bothered.

“You could’ve waited until we were naked!” was Jean’s only protest. The boy became even angrier. He jumped on Jean again, ignoring Ariadne, and hit Jean on the face many times over. Blood splattered our table and the wall, but we could not do anything to help our friend. I was too shocked to move, and apparently so were the others. The scene carried on for seemingly forever, until the pizzeria staff managed to separate the two. The boy bolted for the exit as soon as the manager threatened to call the police, and Jean told the staff that there was no need to chase him.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured everyone, though his bloody face and shirt screamed otherwise.

“We should get you to the hospital,” Hannah interjected, getting close to Jean to examine the damage. By now, all the staff was surrounding us, and other tables were trying to eavesdrop on our conversation.

“Nah, nothing’s broken, I’ll be fine!” Jean somehow managed to grin. His voice sounded funny, like he had a cold or, more likely, a lot of blood blocking his airways.

“What happened to you?” Helena asked. At first I thought she was trying some weird sarcasm on Jean, but then I realised she was referring to Ariadne. The girl, who had been sitting closest to the fighting, had a black eye and her glasses had dropped to the floor. Helena picked them up and tried to get her girlfriend to wear them again, but Ariadne kept refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“I’ll be fine. He hit me by accident, but it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Liar. Punches to the face hurt a lot!” Jean beamed, flashing the best possible smile he could when one is covered in cuts, bruises and blood.

“You sound like you enjoy it,” Edward noted with disgust. He leaned towards Luce, as if trying to get as far away as possible from his foster-brother without moving out of his chair.

“Yeah, duh!” Jean said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. If anyone was still not feeling nauseous or uncomfortable by then, this definitely changed their minds. “It reminds me of my boss and my old job. Ah, the nostalgia…”

“You got punched in the face for a living?” Luce asked. She and Charlie were still new in the group, there was no way they could have known that there was a reason we never asked about Jean’s past anymore. Based on what I already knew of it, I was sure I did not want to know any more details. Unfortunately Jean’s smile grew as he answered (how that was possible when his cheeks were the size of small water balloons remains to be explained).

“No, it sometimes came as a bonus. What I actually did was…”

“Enough! We don’t want to know!” Edward screamed with his hands covering his ears. Jean tried to roll his swollen, blackened eyes, but it was less effective than his attempts at smiling.

“Fine, fine. Let’s finish our pizzas, then. This whole mess made me quite hungry!” Jean looked pointedly at the staff that still surrounded us, and they left as soon as they finished cleaning up the blood. A young, somewhat muscular and definitively attractive waiter offered to help Jean clean up his ‘private mess’ in the bathroom, and the blond gladly accepted. As the pair headed there, Jean pinched the guy’s ass.

“I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” Oliver announced, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry your party was ruined,” Luce said. “Maybe we can ask them to bag the rest of our food and go do something else.”

“I don’t think Jean will want to leave, though,” Henry noted. “He seemed very enthusiastic about getting cleaned up.”

“Well, what that boy did to Jean was something he had coming to him for ages now,” Helena announced. She was still fussing over her girlfriend; Ariadne had agreed to put her glasses back on, but was still too scared to let anyone approach, including her girlfriend. “That’s what you get for jumping on people’s genitals.”

“So you’re happy about what happened?” Hannah asked. The rest of us sensed a fight starting, but no one felt brave enough to stop them.

“I’m pissed because he got an innocent person hurt! Ariadne had nothing to do with this, but look at what happened to her!”

“I’ll be fine, Helena. Really,” Ariadne tried to reassure her girlfriend, but she was not very effective.

“When Jean comes back, I’ll finish what that boy started!”

“No, please! Stop it! We don’t need any more violence!” Ariadne pleaded. This time, Helena seemed to listen. She calmed down and sat back in her chair. We stayed silent for a while, until Ariadne spoke again. “I think I know who that guy is.”

“You do?” we asked roughly in chorus. Ariadne nodded.

“He’s is our year, we have English together. I think his name is Arthur McKay.”

“This guy is your classmate? But then he’s like… fourteen, fifteen? He doesn’t look that old!” Helena put our dismay into words. “And I don’t remember seeing him around school.”

“Me neither!” Edward said. “You and I are in the same year, so even if the others haven’t seen him, I probably should’ve.”

“Maybe he’s just anti-social and good at disappearing. I wouldn’t know who he was if I didn’t share a class with him either. He’s usually very quiet, like he’s not really there at all.”

After Ariadne’s revelation, we sat in silence until Jean and the waiter returned from the bathroom. They were both grinning suggestively, and I made an effort not to think about why this could be. When we told Jean the news about his attacker, he became even happier. “Oh, so he’s in my year! I guess I’ll get him in my pants after all!”

There was a silent agreement that we would not question him for the moment. We just wanted him to shut up before something even creepier came out of his mouth. Fortunately we were distracted by one of the waiters telling us that they would put our orders on the house to compensate for the damage. Even though we had lost most of our appetite, the free food did lift our spirits a little. From then on we celebrated Oliver’s successful coming out as much as we could, considering Jean and Ariadne bore very visible battle scars. We only needed to look at Henry to realise that it could have been much worse.

It was definitely not the ideal party, but we did have some fun towards the end. Jean tried to make out with Henry numerous times, but Henry could not bring himself to touch Jean’s bruised face, even with the blond’s constant reassurance that causing him pain was not that much of a big deal. At that moment the group’s comfort levels plummeted again, so Emma suggested we all headed for the ‘decorate your own’ ice-cream parlour. The distraction worked, and by the time we left the pizzeria, we were considerably happier. That is, until Jean mentioned he would look for Arthur McKay on Monday to finish what they had started.

At least Oliver and I had something else to look forward to: Sunday’s dinner with the headmistress and Charlie’s and Luce’s families. Hopefully it would take our minds away from this mess.