Be Rad - 34. Chapter 34

October 14, 1980

Tension filled my entire body, my entire life. I found that I was desperate to find something to hold on to, but the only thing there was Robbie, and he was drowning in apprehension just like me.

Yesterday we'd gotten home and had a great reunion with Ace and Claire. We'd even had dinner that night with them, and Jack came over too. Still, there was an emptiness, a gloom over Escorial. My mother was gone, and I didn't realize how much her presence added to our home. The little things she did, the way she was always there to smooth things over and make people comfortable. Still, with Roger and Mouse back, things seemed more normal.

I drove the Ferrari up to Gunn, turned into the parking lot, and wondered if I'd make it through first period without beating the shit out of some cretin. I drove in and parked. I felt eyes on me; I felt like everyone was looking at me. I walked by and no one talked to me. None of these people were really my friends anyway, but in the past they'd have been pleasant, sucking up so I'd invite them to our parties, or just because I was part of the “A” crowd. Not today. They'd look at me, then turn to each other and talk in hushed tone.

I walked past some of the hard core guys like the ones I'd stopped from beating up Mouse. I heard them say “faggot” under their breath. None of them was willing to confront me. I didn't know if it was my attitude or residual popularity, but they kept the volume down. I ignored them.

I got to my locker and found that someone had spray painted “Queer” in black letters across it. I just stood there and stared. I felt so alone, and so vulnerable, but none of these people would ever know that. I felt the anger giving me strength. I opened my locker and took out my books. Fortunately they hadn't trashed the inside.

I slammed my locker and found the Assistant Principal, Mr. Summers, behind me. “Painting lockers is against the rules,” he said. I lifted my Vuarnets up and put them on top of my head.

“Yes it is.”

“You going to clean that up?” he asked.

“Do you think I painted it?”

“It is your locker, your responsibility.”

“Mr. Summers, I will clean off the paint as soon as you notify me that hell has frozen over. My locker was vandalized.”

“Would you like a referral?” He meant that I'd be sent to the office for disciplinary action.

“No.” I said.

“Then clean this up.”

“No.” And I turned and walked away, ignoring him as he called after me.

I walked into my first period class and sat next to Lark. Everyone stopped talking as soon as I came in, and stared at me the entire time. I could see the concern in Lark's eyes, concern for me, and concern for his own reputation.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“You don't have to talk to me Lark. You're not gay. You shouldn't have to deal with this.”

“This is bullshit,” he said. I focused on the class, ignoring the laughing and sneering. Still, I made mental notes of who did it. They could kiss an invitation to our parties goodbye. Class was almost over when a messenger came in.

“Brad, you're wanted in the office.”

“Principal probably needs a blow job,” said one of the guys in the back. Dennis McCartney. The teacher's eyebrows narrowed. She wrote a referral slip.

“You can join him Mr. McCartney.” He grudgingly got up and headed to the office.

I glared at him. Away from his friends he was a pussy. He walked behind me, a few paces, to avoid talking and to stay out of range of my fists.

Mr. Summers was waiting for me. “I'm very disturbed by your attitude. You were disrespectful this morning.”

I eyed him coldly and got up and walked out of his office and straight to the Principal’s office. John Selvidge, a guy who was slick in a political way. I was lucky. He wasn't busy. Summers was following me. As soon as I walked into the Principals' office Summers grabbed my arm. I turned around and stared at him, and he let me go.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Selvidge asked.

“Mr. Summers is harassing me,” I said simply.

“That's preposterous. His locker was painted and I told him to clean it off. He defied me, walked away from me,” Summers said. Selvidge would normally back his staff.

“My locker was vandalized. Someone painted “Queer” on it. I'm not cleaning off slurs that other people put on my locker to insult me.”

“Brad, respect for faculty members and administrators is very important.”

“And when in the past have I not shown that respect, sir?” I asked. “I'd like to call my father please.” That made his eyes bulge.

He sighed. “Go back to class. I want to see you here after school.”

“Yes sir,” I said. I grinned at Mr. Summers on my way out. Asshole.

I got to my next class, with Ace and Robbie. I heard the snickering in the room when I sat next to them. “Lovebirds.” “You two gonna kiss?” All low enough so the teacher wouldn't hear. I ignored it. Robbie was miserable. Ace was pissed.

“Don't get pissed off Ace. Just remember who's being an asshole. They’ve seen their last party at our house.” I said that loudly so everyone could hear, including the teacher. He gave me a dirty look. Ace looked around the room and people avoided his eye. Our parties were renowned. We had free booze, pot, and not a whole lot of supervision. That seemed to calm the crowd. The one piece of good news was that Billy didn't seem to be in school today. I knew if I saw him I'd kick his ass, cast or not.

The next two classes pretty much went the same way. Lots of talking, but no violence. The big challenge was ahead. Lunch. I headed to the normal place, wondering what would happen. Would all of my “friends” desert me? There was consternation among them as I walked up and sat at a table. Robbie came up and sat across from me.

“You think it will be like this for the rest of the year?” he asked.

“No. Just until people get used to it. You get your locker painted?”

“No.”

“I did. Summers told me to clean it off and I told him to fuck off. I have to see Selvidge after school.” He shook his head. I felt someone sit next to me and I turned to see Karen. She kissed me on the cheek.

“Don't worry Brad. It will get better.”

“You knew?”

“I guessed,” she said. “I mean, you didn't even fight for me.” She giggled. Lark came up and sat next to her on the other side. Jack and Claire were next, then Ace and Cass.

“Thanks, you guys, for sticking with us. This hasn't been an easy day,” I said.

“No big. This will pass,” Jack said. I wished I was as confident as he was.

After lunch I had PE and I was all alone in that class. I headed to the nurse. “Mr. Summers grabbed my arm earlier today. It hurts,” I told her. I could see her eyes get really big. Nothing struck fear into the mind of a California educator more than getting charged for physical assault. She told me to lie down until it felt better. Best of all, she let me use her phone to call my dad.

I told him about my locker, and about Mr. Summers, and about my conference after school. He didn't really say anything, he just listened. After PE, I told the nurse my arm was better and went to my last class: Art Studio.

This was always my favorite class, and today was no exception. First of all, I'm sure there were at least a few closet cases in there, guys like Mouse. But more than that, we were all into our work, so it wasn't a big deal. I was painting, absorbed as usual, when I felt a presence behind me. It was Ms Marsh, the teacher. She was really cool, in her early 20's, and really pretty.

She sat next to me. “I heard about your secret. Well, not a secret anymore.”

“Sure is making it fun here,” I said bitterly.

She gently put her hand on my arm, the same one that Summers had grabbed. “I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you need me. You have any problems, come here.”

I smiled at her. My first smile of the day. “Thanks Ms Marsh. You're the only person to say that to me all day. It means a lot.” The bell rang and I dutifully headed to the office.

I was surprised to find Mr. Summers, Mr. Selvidge, and my father already in Selvidge's office. Right after I came in, Gordie Weinberg arrived.

“Gentlemen, this is Mr. Weinberg, my attorney. Brad called me and explained the situation this morning. He mentioned that his locker was vandalized and that you, Mr. Summers, think he should be responsible for repairing it?” Summers stammered.

“That is in direct violation of the California Education Code,” Weinberg said. It devolved from there into a situation where Summers stammered and Weinberg quoted rules and regulations.

In the end, with the administrators flummoxed, Weinberg moved in for the kill. “I think that this school is not providing adequate protection and resources for my client. I'm going to petition the court for additional security and oversight.”

“Now surely Mr. Weinberg that isn't necessary.”

“What happened to Dennis McCartney?” I asked.

“We don't discuss disciplinary action for other students Brad,” Summers said with a sneer, inadvertently exposing his attitude to everyone. Weinberg smiled and started jotting down frantic notes.

“Why did you ask, Brad?” Gordie inquired.

“He was sent to the office with me. When Mr. Summers called me up here, Dennis said aloud to the whole class, ‘the principal probably wants a blow job,’ so Mrs. Macklin gave him a referral.”

“Did you want a blow job Mr. Selvidge?” Gordie asked. I tried hard not to crack up.

“Certainly not.”

“So was this student punished?”

“Again, we cannot discuss this.” Summers was adamant.

“Gentlemen, thank you for your time. I will be candid,” Gordie said, “I have never seen such a homophobic administration. I am going to insist that you do not take any disciplinary action against my client, pending a review of your actions by the District and possibly the courts.” They were aghast.

“Good day gentlemen.” And we left. When I got to the parking lot there was a huge scratch down the side of my Ferrari. Gordie took pictures. I drove my wounded baby back to the house. I didn't feel safe until the gates closed behind me. I got out and just stared at the scratch and fought the tears. I felt an arm around me.

It was Rafael. “Do not worry. I will get her fixed. She will be just like new. In the meantime, I will drive you to school. You can study while you ride, no?” I put my arm around him, pulling him close in a friendly side to side hug.

I found Robbie in our room looking glum. No football practice for him. “It's probably just as well that you don't have practice,” I told him, falling into bed next to him. He nodded and rolled over on top of me, crying while I held him tight. I knew that I was strong enough to handle this, but I didn't know if he was. I'd have to be strong enough for both of us.

October 15, 1980

The next day started out a little better. First of all, the school had apparently cleaned off my locker. Then I got to Mrs. Macklin's class and found out that Dennis had gotten suspended, but not until this morning. People did their normal shit, talking in whispered tones about me, in front of me but so I couldn't hear. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I could handle this. I'm normally a shy person, so not having to talk to strangers, or a bunch of people that I didn't like, was no great sacrifice. The ones that hurt were the people who I thought were my friends. When they avoided me, it was like a skewer through my arm.

I took my upbeat feeling into the halls with me, feeling strong and fortified, when I saw him about 20 feet in front of me: Billy. The smart thing to do would be to just walk away. I felt the rage burn, burn through all of my defenses, and I walked up to him. I was mad at him for what he did to me. Really mad. But that was nothing compared to the cold fury I felt over what he'd done to Robbie. His back was to me, but his friends saw me coming and looked alarmed. He turned around to see who it was and caught my fist square in his jaw. He stumbled back and I kneed him in the balls. I pulled back and kneed him again as hard as I could. He collapsed on the floor in the fetal position, using his cast to try and block my kicks. I caught him in the face, square in the nose. As soon as I saw blood spurting, I walked away and pretended like nothing had happened. The whole thing lasted maybe 15 seconds. I waited for someone to grab me, but they didn't.

I sat down with Ace and Robbie in the next class and tried to calm my breathing. “What happened?” Robbie asked, concerned.

“I think Billy's going to be making another trip to the hospital.” Ace looked at me and just shook his head. He was conflicted, but in the end, he'd be in my corner. He was watching the devastation that Billy wreaked.

I expected to get a summons to the office toward the end of class, but it never came. It actually made me nervous. I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it just didn't happen.

Finally, in Spanish, right before lunch, one of the messengers came with a note calling me to the office. Everyone heard about Dennis McCartney, so no one said anything as I left. My Spanish teacher loved me because I was fluent and we could just chat away in his native language, so he smiled at me pleasantly as I left. Maybe he was gay too.

I got to the office, expecting to find Mr. Summers there gloating over having something to suspend me for. Instead, it was my mother. “I thought we could go out to lunch,” she said.

I nodded. “You'll have to drive. Someone keyed my car yesterday. Now that Billy has outed me to the whole school, anything I have is a target for vandalism.” I didn't need to sign myself out, or get permission. I was 18 now. I wrote my own notes. The first time I'd done that had been pretty funny. “Please excuse me for being absent. I was ill.” The bell rang as she grabbed her coat. The long sable, the one that made her look the most elegant. With her Gucci shoes and Chanel suit, she looked conspicuously out of place at Gunn. I walked with her toward her car. The students looked at me and did their normal talking thing.

She seemed uncomfortable. “Don't worry, Mother, they're not talking about you. They're talking about me. Welcome to my world.” She swallowed, both at my words and the bitterness behind them. She had a Mercedes SL, with room for just the two of us.

“You sent Billy back to the hospital,” she said. “He has a broken nose and a ruptured testicle.”

“It's not safe for him at Gunn anymore Mother. Maybe you should move him to Los Altos.”

She eyed me carefully. “You are threatening him?”

“I'm simply saying that if I see him, I'm going to beat the shit out of him. It's about the only therapy that makes me feel better. I figure that if I have to come to school every day and put up with constant psychological torture, then he can be the punching bag since it's his fault.”

“It is not his fault that you are gay Bradley,” she said, turning onto El Camino.

“It is his fault that everyone knows that I am.”

“And what happens when he comes home to visit?”

“Then I will have more time. I'm going to have to figure out what to do so he stays in the hospital longer.” The hatred dripped off my words.

“You will not touch him at home,” she said.

“You are right. I will not come to your home and bother him. But if he comes around me, he should fear for his safety.” I was talking like a bad ass. In reality, it wouldn't be all that easy for me to kick Billy's ass. The only way I'd taken him down today was because I’d caught him by surprise and because he had a cast on his arm.

“You are just reinforcing the bad feelings he has toward you. You have dominated him, overshadowed him, and he resents you.”

“So that makes it alright for him to out me to the whole fucking school?”

“He felt it was his only real way to strike back at you.” We got to the Fashion Plaza and headed to the same crappy cafe I always seemed to get stuck at. I tried something else on the menu. I figured that maybe if I rotated my way through the menu, I'd find something that didn't suck. Today wasn't my lucky day.

“You know what really sucks?” I asked her. “The way you jumped right on his side, didn't even think about what this did to me.”

“I did no such thing,” she argued.

“You certainly did. You almost split up our whole family, and you almost succeeded in splitting up Dad and Roger.”

“You cannot blame me if your father has problems with his love life,” she said. That was interesting. There was bitterness in her voice. She was pissed at him.

“No? Then how come ever since you and Billy have been gone, he and Roger are happy again and things are peaceful at home?” I saw the look on her face. She didn't know that Roger had moved back. “Hell of a way to repay a man who saved you from being the village slut,” I said. It came out meaner than I meant it, and the impact was severe.

“So now you will try to hurt me too? To strike at me as you did Billy?”

“Why not. You hurt me. Why shouldn't I hurt you back?” The words were illogical, and they sounded like they were uttered by a teenager. I felt the emotional dams eroding, the control ebbing. “How do you think it feels to lose your mother, to have her kill herself, and to grow up knowing that she hated you? How do you think that feels? Knowing that I'm probably the reason she did it?”

I felt my eyes tear up, and I cursed myself for my weakness. She sat there, looking as stoic as the Queen. I wanted to crack her armor. I wanted her to feel as bad as she made me feel. I wanted her to know the truth. “You are the only mother that I've really known. And now your first instinct is to reject me, to toss me out with the trash. I'm two for two Mom. How do you think that makes me feel?” I realized that I was talking very loudly, and that everyone in the restaurant was watching us.

I stood up and tossed my napkin on top of my half-eaten crappy lunch. “Your son is not safe around me. Keep him away.” I exhaled, swallowed, and looked at her. “Thanks for lunch, Mother,” I said, and walked away.

“Bradley!” she called, but I wasn't listening. I had reached the parking lot when it occurred to me that I had ridden with her. I sighed. Stanford was close enough, and it was a nice day. I strolled through the campus, heading for the History Department. I liked being on campus. I wondered if people would care that I was gay once I got to college.

There were lots of political signs. Reagan vs. Carter. The election was less than a month away, and everyone was getting all fired up over it. Personally I was conflicted. I liked Reagan's message, but the fact that he had people like Brenda Hayes on his side was disconcerting. I registered to vote, and registered as a member of the Democratic Party, but I didn't like Carter. He was from the South, and that made me uncomfortable. They still had the Klan down there. And he was a total pussy, the way he let the Iranians take our people hostage, and then when he'd finally decided to do something this April, the rescue attempt was botched. He seemed like a nice guy, but a loser. We didn't need a loser for President.

There were people smoking. That always shocked the shit out of me. There was no smoking at Gunn, although it was a generally accepted principle that you could go out to your car or down behind the stadium at lunch for a fix. Here at Stanford, students walked around with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. No big deal. I'm not a smoker, and I don't like the smell, but being around these people made me feel free, uninhibited.

Those thoughts had distracted me enough to get me to the History Department. I went to my dad's office, but his assistant told me that he was in class. I jotted down the name of the hall where his class was and headed over, sneaking in the back and trying to avoid his eye.

He was talking about the significance of events in 1968. I looked at the students around me, almost all of them dressed like I was. It was as if Claire had descended on Stanford and mandated a dress code. It was funny to watch his talk of revolution and riot, topics which had probably met with wild approval in the '70s, get a cold reception from these students. This was a law and order group, or so they appeared. A new generation, with a mistrust of mobs and Hippies. They were all about the money. Changing the world was not on their agenda, getting rich was. Still, I couldn't help but admire his style. Despite the fact that the topical cards were stacked against him, JP was a great teacher. I saw them get engrossed and stay that way, as he took them on a roller-coaster ride through that violent year.

He ended his lecture with a reminder about an assignment due this week. Dork that I was, I waited for the bell to ring, but that was another cool thing about college. No bells. I made my way up to the lectern where he was being cornered by students. Some were sucking up to him, telling him how good his lectures were. Some were begging for extensions, or apologizing for late assignments. I waited toward the back of the crowd. He spotted me, even though I was trying to be inconspicuous.

“Brad,” he called, and the students parted, allowing me to pass. “This is my son Bradley,” he told them in a friendly gesture. I know that he wasn't really interested in me making their acquaintance; he was using me as an excuse to escape from their whining.

“He's cute,” said one of the girls, who was pretty hot herself. I blushed, thinking that if she asked anyone from Gunn she'd know that she wasn't my type.

“So what brings you here Brad?” he asked in a friendly way, putting his arm around me and guiding me away, specifically signaling that this was a private conversation. The students got the hint.

“I just came to save you from your hoard of admirers,” I said with a smile. He laughed. “I wondered if I could ride home with you.”

“And why aren't you in school?” He looked worried. He had good reason to be, I thought with some trepidation.

“I had lunch with Mom. It didn't go too well, so I walked over here instead of riding back with her.” He looked at me sadly and nodded.

“I got a message about Billy. You felt it necessary to resort to violence?” He was very pissed at me, and trying to temper that with sympathy for the hell he knew I was going through.

“He needs to just stay away from me.” I didn't want to talk about this.

“And if he comes home to visit?”

“I think I should try not to be around,” I said.

“You understand that is unacceptable, don't you?” He waited for me to answer. “Billy is my son; he has a right to visit me if he wants to. You can't make rules banning him from my house.”

I wanted him to take my side. It seemed only fair that if Billy had Mom, that I should get Dad. But that was ridiculous, and I couldn't say it out loud. “If he's in our house, I'll make myself scarce. If he comes to my room, he's asking for trouble. Is that good enough?”

“For the present, we'll work with it. Your mother has decided that a change of schools would be good for him anyway. Her new house is in Los Altos Hills, so he'll end up in that district.” I nodded, relieved.

He left early to drive me home. He seemed tired, like me. Fatigued. It wasn't lack of sleep, it was stress. I got home and found Robbie in bed. I lay next to him and could read his mind. It would be so easy to hate each other, to resent each other, to blame each other for this problem.

I kissed him, but he didn't kiss me back. At least not at first. “I love you,” I told him. He smiled, and the resentment flew away, and we were once again a young couple in love.

“I love you too,” he said.

After dinner, we all hung out in the TV room and watched the second game of the World Series. Philadelphia vs. Kansas City. I didn't really care who won, but I rooted for Philly because Robbie did. I mean, Pennsylvania is next door to Ohio, so I guess it was a regional thing. It was a good game, with Philly slapping down the Royals again. They'd now won the first two games. I suddenly got inspired. At this rate they'd clinch it in four games. The next two games would be on Friday and Saturday. The perfect nights for parties.

October 17, 1980

I was determined that yesterday would mark the low ebb of this shit. I wanted to go into the weekend feeling better about school. Last night I'd plotted with Ace, Robbie, Claire, and Jack, and we decided to throw a World Series party on Saturday. And I was going to make that party the line of demarcation. People were either going to have to remember they were my friends and show up, or they could fucking stay home.

I laid out my plan just as JP would. I didn't leave out a single detail. For the first part of the day, we'd start circulating the rumors about it. Then around 3rd period we'd start inviting people. I was using every weapon in my armory. I thought about how shitty this must be, being outed, for someone who didn't have my resources. Their lives must be a living hell all the time. Hopefully that would change for me.

The whispering started before school, with Claire and Jack. Jack was only a junior, but he was a social powerhouse because he was fucking gorgeous, and because his family was rich. He and Claire made the perfect couple. They were as “A-list” as underclassmen could get. If there was a senior couple that trumped them, it was Ace and Cass. Throw in Lark and Karen, a few notches down but popular nonetheless, and then Doug and Dan, with their own friends, and we had a built in core of desirable people.

I noticed a distinct reduction in the backstabbing whispering in first period. “Hey B, looks like some people have decided that they can overlook you having a dick in your mouth as long as they get invited,” Lark teased.

By second period, Ace and Robbie told me they had noticed the difference too. Starting in third period, Robbie and I started inviting people. I'd walk up to people who were supposed to be my friends and talk to them. If they were assholes, I'd neglect to ask them to come to the party. If they weren't, they got an invite. We diligently kept track of who was invited and who wasn't. By lunch, our normal crowd had pretty much reformed around us. Lark was right.

Gordie had found a loophole that allowed me to get out of PE, and Robbie too, so we were able to squeeze in a study hall period instead. That was awesome, solid homework time. There weren't many people in my Art Studio class, maybe 15. Of those, none had ever been to any of my parties. They were too dorky to be on my social radar. Yet it was these people who had been the nicest to me, if by doing nothing but simply ignoring me. I told Mouse to invite anyone he wanted in there, so he picked out about five of them. They'd freak out, I thought. But they'd be safe, and they'd have fun. Partying with some of the same people who gave them shit. Maybe I could ease their pain a little bit too.

I diligently copied down all the names of people we'd invited onto a master list. Dad let me hire a guard to operate the front gate, and if they weren't on the list, they didn't get in. I got home after school and headed to my room to find Robbie in bed. Only unlike the last few days, he was smiling. And naked.