Chapter Six

Chris looked down at the tiny folded piece of paper that was trying to be handed to him. He looked up to the girl whose arm was stretched out. He took a few seconds and blinked at her with slight contempt, though really he was stalling so he could remember her name. He failed, but he felt that he should still speak to her.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said. “It's not like class has started yet.”

The girl dejectedly pulled her hand back. “Fine,” she sighed. “Are you going to the dance on Friday?”

“There's a dance?” he uninterestedly asked.

“Yes, and I think you should go. And, you know, maybe we could go together.” She smiled at him and bat her eyelashes a few times. Chris narrowed his eyes at her.

“No,” he slowly replied. When he didn't continue, the girl took great offense.

“No? That's it?” she shrieked. “Just no?”

“You... You do realize that I'm gay, right?” Chris asked her. “It's nothing personal, I'm sure you're a nice girl.”

“You are?” She laughed a bit to cover up her mistake and said, “Well, I mean, I'd heard people say things... but I thought those were just rumors.” Chris shook his head, and the girl sighed and sat back in her seat. “Isn't that a bit unfair?”

“What?”

“Well, there are plenty of girls in the world, right? Plenty of girls to like boys.” She sat forward once more, enthusiastically trying to make her point to Chris. “If boys like boys, then who's gonna like all those girls?”

Chris was, at first, unsure of what to say in response. He stared at her questioningly for a while until he finally thought of something. “There are enough boys who do like girls. I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

The girl thought about it, her eyebrows burrowed in deep concentration. “Well, I still don't think it's fair.”

“Life's not fair,” Chris said. “Does that make you feel better?”

“No-” the girl began, disappointed, before she was cut off by the class beginning. All throughout the rest of the period, Chris thought he saw her shooting nasty and annoyed looks in his direction, but he just ignored it. And when the class ended and the students were terrifically glad to know their school day was over, Chris walked behind her and was nearly hit with the door on his way out.

He walked through the hallways like he always did, drifting along and thinking about other things until he finally reached his locker. He heard the people talking around him, but like always he tuned it out until the noise was just a dull roar.

As he stood in front of his locker, backpack in one hand and books in the other, he felt something collide with his shoulder. His arm jerked forward and his books were sent tumbling to the ground, where they scattered themselves across the floor. He dropped his backpack, bent down and apathetically gathered the fallen items.

Just after he stuffed his books in his bag, his hand reached out for his sacred dark purple folder, but someone else grabbed it before he did. Chris looked up to see Jonathan towering over him, examining the outside of the folder in his hands. Chris stood up and tried to gently pry it away.

“Drop your stuff?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah, I guess I shouldn't try to hold more than I physically can,” Chris quickly brushed it off. He tried again to get his folder, this time with more urgency. “Can I have that back? Please?”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but ultimately handed the folder to Chris then leaned against the wall. He lightly sighed. “Angelica is seeing someone else now... apparently,” he mentioned.

Chris looked up as he swung his arms through the straps on his backpack. “I'm sorry,” he sincerely said, and reached a hand out and placed it kindly on Jonathan's shoulder.

“Thanks man.” Then Jonathan did something strange- at least, Chris thought so. For some reason, he moved his hand over Chris's and kept it there for about two seconds, though it felt like an eternity to Chris.

“Yeah,” Chris replied, ignoring the sudden sickness he felt. “Now let's get going. To the buses, away!” he cheered with fake enthusiasm.

Jonathan began to walk first, and as Chris followed he rolled his eyes and exhaled in agony. Once they had reached the outside, Chris shuffled over so he was walking beside Jonathan.

“So, Jay, how was the rest of your day?”

“It was all right,” Jonathan shrugged in reply. “Pretty much the same as always. Yours?”

“Same. Oh, but something did happen in Chemistry!” Chris chirped. He stopped talking, though, as they reached the bus. Jonathan allowed Chris to go in front of him, and Chris quickly clamored up the steps. He was scanning the bus for empty seats, walking towards the back, when suddenly Jonathan saw him begin to fall. Luckily, Chris caught himself by grabbing a hold of one of the seats and correcting his balance. He quickly continued on, collapsing down in a nearby seat and waiting for Jonathan.

Jonathan slowly walked back to where Chris was, and he noticed two boys laughing to themselves, the one boy's foot hanging out into the aisle just a little bit. As he sat down, he watched them with a look of utter disgust and confusion, and he turned to find Chris smiling at him, acting like nothing happened.

“Chris-”

“Oh, I know, I'm so clumsy,” Chris airily laughed.

“You...” Jonathan was at a total loss for words.

“I... should watch where I'm going? Yeah, I know, and I should learn to tie my shoes better, too.” Chris lifted his legs back some, sliding his feet underneath the seat to hide his perfectly tied laces. “It's all good. So anyway, like I was saying before- Chemistry.”

“What happened in Chemistry?” Jonathan asked, though his mind was still on the preceding events.

“That girl you thought likes me,” Chris began, motioning with his hand, “I can't remember her name, but she asked me to the dance. So I guess you were right.”

“Oh. Well, that's good,” Jonny unenthusiastically replied. “Did she... not know... or whatever?”

“She knew, but she didn't think it was true.” Chris lowered his eyes thoughtfully and stared off into space. “I don't think she likes me much anymore.”

“Good,” Jonathan almost immediately said, with much more interest than before. Chris noticed, of course, and so Jonathan tried to hide it. “I mean, maybe she'll leave you alone now. Girls can be annoying sometimes.”

Chris nodded along. “Boys are much better. Except they don't like to admit that.”

“I don't think they're that much better,” Jonathan laughed. “They can be total assholes, which is probably way worse than being annoying.”

“Some of them are very sweet,” Chris bashfully replied. “But you're right, others are just... jerks.”

“Which one am I?”

Chris glanced up and made a quick decision. “You, Jay,” he slowly began, “are the biggest jerk I know.”

Jonathan stared at him for a few seconds, then pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Life mission accomplished.”

“You deserve some sort of award.” Chris spread his hands out in front of him on some sort of imaginary banner. “Jonathan- he puts the 'Jay' in 'jerk'. Wonderful.”

Jonathan just watched Chris and laughed as the bus rolled to a stop outside their house. As he had taken the aisle seat, Jonathan stood up and walked off the bus first, but Chris ran past him and into the house once they were on the ground. Jonathan laughed again; he was always amused by Chris's crazy antics.

When he walked through the hallway to the stairs, he passed by the kitchen doorway and noticed that Chris had sat himself down at the table. Jonathan decided his room could wait, and he joined Chris.

“Having fun?” Chris quickly shot his head up, revealing a glass of water sitting in front of him.

“Having water, Jonathan. You can't drink fun.” Chris scanned his eyes over the air momentarily, then shrugged. “Or you could try to, but I think that would look very awkward.”

Chris took a sip of his water as Jonathan sat down. “I'm sure you could do it,” Jonathan said, “you pull off awkward very well.”

Chris held his head high and grinned. “Well, thank you.” He began to drum his fingers on the surface of the table for a bit before springing to his feet. “I'll be right back, I have to pee really bad now. I think it's that water, maybe there's too much fun in it...” He stopped for a moment, rethinking what he has just said, then decided it wasn't worth thinking about twice. Instead, he just left.

Jonathan saw Chris's backpack just laying on the table, almost asking to be searched. He wasn't sure why he had the desire to do it, he just did. Something about Chris's behavior as of late had him feeling that maybe not everything was as perfect as Chris made it out to be. He was just concerned, that's all.

What he really wanted to know more about was the dark purple folder, anyway. Chris had seemed to protect it so dearly that it must have contained some top secret information. Jonathan felt a twinge of guilt as he grabbed the folder, but he kept telling himself that it was for Chris's own good.

He let it rest before him for a few moments before opening it, mostly to prepare himself. He didn't know what to expect, really, so he tried to not expect anything.

The folder opened with ease, as most folders usually do, and the left side gently fell to the table. Jonathan looked at the papers inside, trying to decipher the messy handwriting.

It was a story of some sort, and from what Jonathan gathered it was written by Chris. He knew he didn't have time to read all of it, but he read the first page, then just flipped through and counted the rest. There were around a hundred pages, Jonathan estimated, and he stared at it in awe. He was so captivated by it, in fact, that he forgot to make sure he put the folder back before Chris returned.

“What are you doing?”

Jonathan froze, his heart racing. He snapped the folder shut and pushed it aside.

“Nothing,” he brightly said, clasping his hands in front of him. “What- what are you doing?”

“You went through my stuff,” Chris said. He was breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and that Jonathan felt the twinge again. “Jay!”

“Yeah,” Jonathan admitted, really ashamed. “I'm sorry.”

“What did you see?” Chris quietly asked, rushing over to his backpack.

“Your story... Chris, why would hide that?”

“Because I...” he strongly began, but lost his explanation along the way. He waved his hands around to find it, but he failed in the end. “I don't know.”

“So, you wrote a story,” Jonathan said. “Who cares?”

“I wrote more than one,” Chris said in a hushed voice.

“You did?”

Chris ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I like to write.”

“How come you never mentioned it before?” Jonathan asked, grabbing the folder again and reopening it. “Chris, from what I read, you're really good. You could be a writer or something, if you wanted.”

“Really, you think so?” Chris replied with big, dreamy eyes. He sat down beside Jonathan. “I... I guess I just never thought about it that way. I was always... I was always told to become a doctor, or lawyer, or whatever.”

“By who, your parents?” Chris looked up with a sadness that confirmed Jonathan's question. “Chris, this is going to sound really rude and insensitive, and I apologize in advance, but...” Jonathan bit his lip and took a deep breath to lessen the pain, even though he didn't really understand how that would work. “...your parents don't care about you. OK? If they did, you wouldn't be here right now, in this house.”

“I guess you're right,” Chris hoarsely replied. He looked down at his hands laying in his lap and he felt a weird jolt as Jonathan placed his hand on Chris's shoulder.

“If you don't want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or on whatever ridiculous pedestal your parents tried to place you, then you don't have to be. Just be you, OK?”

Chris said nothing for a while, his mind clouded by thoughts of his parents, his future, and his present; Jonathan's hand still rested on his shoulder.

“Mum and I, we care about you now. And- well, I can't speak for her exactly, but all we want is for you to be happy. All I want is for you to be happy.” Jonathan tightened his grip a little, then let go and sat back in his chair. He looked at the folder again. “You wrote more than just this one?”

Chris slowly looked at Jonathan. “Wanna see 'em?”

“Sure.”

Chris stood up, reached across the table, and grabbed his backpack. He led Jonathan up the stairs and down the hall to his room. He threw his bag on the floor by the door and crawled over his bed to his nightstand.

The drawer was filled with a multitude of folders similar to the purple one, though differing in color. Chris tried to grab all of them at once, which he eventually did, and he set them down on the bed with a hefty grunt.

“There are... ten, I think,” he said as Jonathan sat down, staring in amazement. “Two of them I wrote over the summer.”

“Is this what you've been doing in here, then?” Jonathan asked, pointing to the stack of folders. “Writing?”

“Yeah. Writing and reading.” Chris followed Jonathan's gaze and glanced down at the folders. “You can look at them, read them, if you want. I... I can't say they're all that great, but... If you want.”

Chris pushed the stack towards Jonathan a little. Jonathan reached for one of the folders, logically taking the top one. As he read, Chris watched on, anxious and feeling very vulnerable. He tried to distract himself by examining various random things around his room, but nothing worked.

Jonathan flipped a page, and Chris's stomach flipped itself. It was awful, the waiting, and he felt like screaming and throwing something at the wall. But he knew that wouldn't make time go faster.

Jonathan must have sensed Chris's worry, because he stopped reading halfway through a page and said, “You're really talented, man. I mean, I'm no expert on literature or anything, but this is fantastic.”

Chris smiled, though in truth Jonathan's compliment only made him worry more. He fidgeted as Jonathan continued to read, and suddenly decided that his energy would work best channeled into writing. He snatched his folder out of his bag and took a pen from his drawer. Fervently, he scribbled things down, until he realized that he had written 3 pages worth of story and Jonathan was now looking at him, his attention having been diverted from reading.

“You... are amazing,” Jonathan said. “How can you write that fast?”

“I don't know,” Chris shrugged, “It just... kinda pours out of me, you know?” Chris looked over the papers and chuckled. “I doubt any of it's good.”

“I don't,” Jonathan said, then went back to reading. Chris went through what he had written, crossing things out, adding things in the margins. Then he wrote some more, and edited that. Jonathan sat quietly at his side the entire time, and quickly an hour had passed, then two. Penny came home sometime during the third, and was rather surprised to find the house seemingly empty and eerily quiet.

She was not worried as she walked through the house searching for the boys, merely curious as to where they were; she had a few ideas.

“What are you boys up to?” she casually asked from Chris's doorway.

“Reading-”

“Writing.”

“Oh.” Penny waited for a few moments, as if expecting further explanation. When she didn't receive any, she cleared her throat and spoke again. “Reading and writing what?”

Somehow she knew that the answer would be a vague, “Story,” from the both of them, but she asked it anyway. She nodded her head, accepting that she wasn't going to get much more detail than that, and began to leave.

“Penny?” She stopped, turned around and saw Chris looking up at her. “Would you like to read one of my stories?”

She didn't know what to say at first, but soon enough she agreed. Chris eagerly handed her a folder with much more confidence than he had with Jonathan. She stood and read, while Chris beamed at her.

“Jay said I could be a writer,” he said. “Right, Jay?”

Jonathan nodded, too wrapped up in the story to really answer Chris. But Chris was satisfied with that, and Penny seemed to be impressed.

“Well, I think he's right. This is very good.” Her eyes scanned the page. “How long have you been writing?”

“A few years,” Chris answered. “I never told anyone... I didn't think anyone would care. And I didn't think it would matter, anyway.”

The room went suddenly silent, Penny and Jonathan both consumed in his writing. Chris lost a tiny bit of his happiness, but it didn't matter much. Watching the two people who he realized actually cared about him, he began to feel like he was much closer to finally being a whole person, finally being exactly who he wanted to be.