Black Star Cross - 49. Chess

Black Star Cross

Chapter 49: Chess

“Dude, I’m driving you home,” he said, a little while later.

I was lying on the couch, shirtless, and watching the news. He had just emerged from the kitchen, holding a bowl of popcorn in his hands. He, of course, was also shirtless. I’d explain, but...

“Awww, but House is on tonight, and I don’t have cable,” was my lame excuse.

“House isn’t on tonight, it’s on a station that you can get without cable, and that was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard come out of your lips, dude.”

“Ouch, so brash,” I commented.

“I’m serious, dude. I know that Aunt Emmy was supposed to drive you home, and that you tricked me into bringing you here, though I guess it was for a somewhat good reason.”

‘Yeah, only to patch up our relationship, which was on the brink of ruin. Nothing TOO serious.’

“Still dude, the fact remains that you ran away from home, again, and that, if I don’t take you back, Lord knows that Aunt Emmy will. And we both know that she’ll chew your ass off more than I will.”

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“But you just made popcorn,” I whined, futilely.

“After the popcorn has been eaten, we are heading back to your place.”

Knowing that resistance was futile, I just sank further into the couch, deciding that I might as well be comfy now before I get hell from Mom...again.

~~~

You know what? That popcorn disappeared almost uncannily fast! I think for every individual popcorn either one of us ate, two more would magically disappear into an alternate dimension, never to be seen again. Just so that my execution would be that much quicker! You see? Even food is out to get me! Before I knew it, I was in the car with Anthony, reminding him, begrudgingly, how to get to my house. It was no use lying to him; he’d find out sooner or later. Plus, he threatened that if I did lie to stall for time, he would just call up Keith and have him tell Anthony where to go. Apparently, Keith has one of those directories that tells parents where all the school’s children live. Damn that Keith. Where is that rapist I asked for, anyways?

When we finally arrived, I noticed that the car was gone. Mom must not be home. Thank God! NOW what’re you going to do, Anthony?

“My mom’s not here. The car’s gone.”

“Well, let’s see if the front door’s unlocked,” he said, as he, and then I, stepped out of the car.

“Well that’s a stupid idea. Why would my mom keep the door...”

He opened the door.

“...the fuck?! Why the hell is the front door unlocked?!” I demanded, as if Anthony could POSSIBLY answer that question.

“Dunno, dude,” he said, entering my house. “Let’s go in.”

I followed him inside, sure that some ax-wielding maniac was lurking in the corner of some room.

“Dude, there’s a note in the fridge,” Anthony called out, his voice coming from the kitchen. I went into the kitchen to see him reading the note.

“What’s it say?” I asked.

“It’s from your mom. She says that if, by chance, you should come back here, that she has gone to the hospital, and that she took Kimberly with her,” He then turned to me. “Why would she go to the hospital?”

Uh-oh. I never explained this part to him. If I don’t come up with something quick, he might catch on to things.

“How should I know? She probably accidentally hurt herself after I left or something. We don’t have anybody to take care of Kimberly, so that’s why she probably took her with. Mom definitely wouldn’t trust Kimberly alone in the house with no one watching over her. She’s protective like that,” I lied.

He arched an eyebrow. “How could she accidentally hurt herself in her own home, to the point where she needed to go to the hospital?”

“It happens all the time, Anthony. She could’ve tripped down the stairs, cut herself with a kitchen knife, accidentally touched an iron while it was on, slipped on something and threw out her back. All sorts of things, really. People have died while vacuuming before.” I explained.

“Hmmm. Well, we should probably check up on her then,” he offered.

What?! Why won’t this idiot give up?! Does he KNOW that I did something and is PURPOSELY stringing me along now?

“Um, Anthony? We don’t know WHICH hospital she went to, and we don’t even know if she’s able to see visitors right now.”

“We can just call them. Where do you guys keep the phone book?”

WHY, ANTHONY, WHY?! Why are you being so stubbornly smart right now, of all times?!

Suddenly, the phone rang. Before I could reach it, Anthony picked it up and answered it.

“Hello?...I’m Anthony, Shawn’s friend...yes he is...sure, hold on one sec.”

The bastard handed me the phone. “It’s your mom, dude.”

“Gee, thanks.” I said, in the most sarcastic voice I could muster. I held the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Shawn? Did you read the message on the refrigerator?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Good. Then you know that I’m at the hospital with Kim. Aunt Alice is coming down to take her back home since I won’t be leaving here tonight. She should be there in about an hour or so. I already told her that you’d be there watching the house, and that the door would already be unlocked.”

How did she know that I’d be coming back home? Was it all just a lucky guess? And why isn’t she screaming at me? Telling me what an ungrateful bastard of a child I am? Why is she being so calm about all this?

“Okay, Mom. I’ll have Anthony stick around for extra muscle in case we get robbed.”

“Do whatever you like, Shawn. I have to go now. The nurses are coming in. I love you.”

“I know you do,” I said, and hung up. I turned to Anthony. “My mom says that one of my aunts will be bringing Kimberly back here in about an hour. If you wanted to stay until then...”

He picked up on it. “Yeah, dude. That’d be nice.”

So we both went to the couch in the living room and turned on the TV, doing exactly what we were doing back at his house. I fear that we may grow up to be fat, bald, and disease-ridden. About ten minutes into whatever show we were watching, Anthony suddenly got up and headed for the kitchen again.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m calling Aunt Emmy,” he said. “I think she needs to know where we’re at, at the moment.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Figuring that he could do no harm (not smart enough), I let him be. I heard him talking on the phone, and the conversation went pretty much like I expected it to. She seemed to be thanking him a lot, given how much I heard him say “It’s no problem, really.” to her. Soon enough, he came back to the couch and lay down next to me. A thought managed to resurface in my head.

“So Peter Lamb is on to us,” I bluntly stated.

Anthony turned around. “What? What do ya mean, dude?”

“The other day, he stopped me in the halls, claiming that he ‘knew my deep, dark secret’, and that was supposedly sleeping with you. He went on and on about how we should come out and be out and proud and all that other gay stuff.”

A look of fear washed over his face.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured. “I didn’t confirm anything that he said. I didn’t out either one of us, mainly so that I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right. He’s such a fag. I mean, does he really have to be THAT gay?”

“I guess, dude. Still though, that’s pretty scary, that he can figure all that shit out. So, are you saying that I should beat him up or something?”

“Nah, that wouldn’t work. If you beat him up, that might be just what he wants to be able to prove that we’re going out. If you react, then he knows that I told you, and that you reacted a little too violently for just a knee-jerk reaction. It shows that whatever he said hit a little too close to home.”

“Dammit. I just wanna punch him so hard though, dude. Make it so that he CAN’T talk about us behind our backs.”

“And I want you to, too. But that’s just not gonna work. If I react to anything he says, he wins. If you react to anything he says, he wins. I really don’t know what to do in this situation.”

“You mean to tell me that the total fag just beat you in a contest of wits?” Anthony asked, incredulously. “I cannot accept that, dude.”

“Well can YOU think of any other bright ideas?” I challenged.

Anthony leaned back further and looked like he went into deep thought. I thought such things would be lethal to him. I was surprised that he didn’t start shouting out in pain and anguish from all the strenuous activity.

“Beat him up?” he offered, again. “Dispose of the body? Pay people to never mention him again?”

“Well that is a PERFECT solution. I’m surprised that I didn’t think of that. I guess you sure showed me who has the brains in this relationship,” I said, in my most over-the-top sarcastic voice.

“I don’t know, dude! I can’t think of anything!”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Look, I think the best way to go about this is to just act completely natural. If we don’t change any part of our regular interaction with each other, and by that I mean DON’T GO BACK INTO BULLYING ME WITH VIGOR, then he can’t really pinpoint anything unusual, can he?” I explained, putting emphasis on a certain section in my explanation. “Just ignore him, and don’t get riled up by anything he says, and we should both be fine. Of course, since you ARE a jock, if he says anything about you TO you, then you are socially obliged to beat the shit out of him in public. I can’t do that. I’m not a brainless jock.”

He smiled at that.

“Well finally. Some advantage to being a jock.”

“Yeah, besides being automatically liked by everyone, having teachers give you A’s and B’s that you don’t deserve on a silver platter, having the first pick of any girl you want, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Dude, I get it. But what help are those in a situation like this?”

“I guess. Just don’t do anything stupid like publically out yourself and you’ll be fine. Unless, of course, you WANT to publically out yourself.”

“I think I’ll pass, dude. Remember, I’m the straight one here.”

“Who happens to have taken a liking to the taste of my cock,” I reminded him.

“Well...we won’t get into that, dude.”

“Uh-huh. Grab the remote. I want to see if it’ll rain tomorrow.”

He did as such and we let the conversation drop. I’m sure he’ll do what he thinks is best. I honestly don’t care either way, whether we get outed or not. But I’d rather do it on my own terms, and not by some Perez Hilton wannabe.

~~~

Aunt Alice came over an hour later. She asked who Anthony was. I described him as my friend. Yes, Mom knew about him. Yes, he was allowed to come over. No, he wasn’t going to rob us all and drive off with her car (okay, she didn’t really ask that, but from all the questioning she was doing, I wouldn’t be surprised). Anthony said hello to Kimberly. Kimberly, it looked like, recognized him and politely said hello back, before retreating to her room. She didn’t say a word to me. I hope Mom and mine’s last confrontation didn’t affect her TOO much. This may be the case though. I’ll probably have to talk to her privately later on. After reassuring Aunt Alice for the billionth time that two eighteen-year-olds could manage themselves in a house all by themselves (and with Kimberly), we finally got her to leave.

“Dude, I thought she NEVER was gonna leave.”

“Yeah. You see why I tend to avoid family?”

“Dude, she’s just being protective.”

“Overprotective if you ask me. It’s like she didn’t believe for one second that two, technically adults, could run a house for one night by themselves. Isn’t that just the slightest bit disparaging?”

“Ummm...sure.”

“You haven’t got the slightest clue what ‘disparaging’ is, do you?”

“Dude, let’s not get into this again.”

“Fine. I’m hungry. I’m going to see what I can make in the kitchen.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing, dude?”

“Ha ha. Asshole. I’ll have you know that, if given instructions, I can make a wide variety of things.”

“We’re all gonna starve.”

“You are if you keep that up.”

~~~

So I ended up making tacos that night. We had hamburger, lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, and some taco mix lying around. It was good. Anthony enjoyed it. I kept expecting him to make some housewife joke, but considering that Kimberly was eating with us, I think he managed to restrain himself. After dinner, she excused herself back to her room.

“Like brother, like sister, huh?” Anthony observed.

“That’s not the way that saying goes. And she doesn’t normally do this. Maybe seeing Mom go to the hospital might’ve done something to her mentally. She’s already had to live through Dad dying, and with Mom going into rehab for alcohol abuse. It wouldn’t surprise me if this is the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Dude, you should go talk to her.”

“I was planning on it later on tonight.”

“I say do it now. I should probably be leaving soon anyways. My mom doesn’t know that I’m over here. Plus, I think she’d like to see my face at some point today.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you, too. Good luck with Kim.”

We shared a brief kiss.

“Thanks.”

Anthony then left the house. I sighed, turned, and walked up to Kimberly’s room. I knocked on her door.

“Kimberly? Is everything okay in there?” I asked.

“Yes.” she said, automatic-like.

“Are you scared about Mom?”

“No,” she said again, her voice faltering this time.

“Listen, none of this has anything to do with you.”

Okay, that sounded wrong.

“I mean, none of this is your fault. Mom and I...we’re just having some difficulties right now. Okay? That’s all.”

“But you’ve had difficulties before as well,” she pointed out. “I thought everything was all better now.”

“Kimberly,” I sighed. How was I supposed to explain this to a thirteen-year-old? “Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way they’re supposed to. People fight. And sometimes it takes a little more than just saying ‘I’m sorry’ to patch it up.”

I didn’t hear her say anything. God, was I saying the right things?

“Just give it a little more time. I’m sure that everything will be okay in a little while.”

And while I hoped that that statement would be true, I knew, deep down, that chances were that I was blatantly lying to Kimberly right now. If things really do “get better,” it’ll be sometime in the summer, when I finally move out and into college. I’ll be away from all this.

When I didn’t hear anything else come from Kimberly, I decided that she was going to take a page out of her big brother’s book and not say anything.

“Good night, Kimberly,” I solemnly said.

“Night,” I heard her say back.

With a sinking feeling in my chest, I decided to turn in early as well.

~~~

The next day, I woke up, showered, woke Kimberly up, and got us both ready for school. She didn’t need that much help, really. I guess by eighth grade, she should already know how to do things without Mom’s help.

Anthony stopped by my locker. We did our usual chit-chat before heading to class. After 2nd period, I saw Brett roaming the halls, so it looks like he’s doing better.

At lunch, Anthony and I were sitting together, innocently eating lunch. Keith even decided to join us to relay what happened at Brett’s place after we left. Suddenly, who should come up to us but some girl without make-up. Oh wait, it was Peter Lamb.

“Oh, I didn’t know there were so many of us,” he lisped.

I swear, every day he degenerates into a biological woman more and more.

“‘Us’?” Anthony questioned. “I don’t know about these two ladies, but I KNOW I ain’t no faggot like you, dude.”

“Hey!” objected Keith. “Bro, I don’t know about these two here,” motioning at both Anthony and I, “but I ain’t nowhere NEAR your level of faggotry.”

Feeling sort of left out, I threw in my two cents. “Well, unlike these two, who are CLEARLY in denial, I’m a mentally healthy individual who doesn’t suffer from such mental plagues, and I can clearly assure you that I, also, am not a fag.”

“Awwww. It’s like a threesome!” he squealed, ignoring our banter. “Do you guys all go out shopping together as well? I know that you two are SO TOTALLY an item,” he said, pointing at me and Anthony, “so are you dating some guy?” he questioned, looking at Keith. “We can double date!”

Anthony looked at Keith. Keith looked at Anthony. I looked at the both of them, gauging their reactions to this overdose of gayness that is being inflicted upon us. I think we all had the same idea in mind: DESTROY THE SOURCE! Anthony stood up, along with Keith. I was about to as well, but a quick look from Anthony told me to stay put.

“Outside,” was all he said to Fabulous Man.

Suddenly, the hapless homo seemed a little bit worried.

“Wha-”

“If you want to live and get fucked by some random dude in the alley tomorrow, you’ll do as he says,” added Keith.

The two guys “escorted” Peter out of the room like a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse. I don’t know about Anthony and Keith, but I’d like my school record to be clean of all murder charges. Needless to say, that was the last time Peter Lamb stopped by our table.