When I went downstairs the next morning, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. Janet was eating a bowl of cereal. She looked up when I entered, but then she looked down and continued eating.
At least Janet looked at me. My mother’s eyes never left the newspaper. I looked at the seat where I normally sit. Usually, there is a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. It was empty. I sighed, walked over to the cabinet, and took out a glass and poured myself some milk. I left the kitchen and headed back to my room to finish getting ready for school.
It was the first time she had ever given me the silent treatment. Usually she would rant and rave a while and then ground me for a few days. If I had done something really bad, I’d lose some privileges. However, she had never reacted in this manner before. I wasn’t quite sure what I was to do.
I finished dressing and headed back downstairs. Mom was still sitting in the same spot. I considered apologizing, but the look on her face told me that she didn’t want to hear it.
“Bye, Mom.” I looked over expecting her to say something, but she kept reading the paper without looking up. When I got outside, Jackie was sitting on the porch.
“What’s wrong with your mom?” she asked as we started walking down the sidewalk to school.
“Why?”
“I asked her if you were ready to leave and she said, ‘I don’t know.’ She didn’t say anything more. What happened when you got home from detention?”
“That’s just it,” I explained, “She won’t talk to me. She sent me to my room and didn’t even punish me. It’s really weird. I’m kind of scared. I don’t know what she’s planning to do.”
“Wow!” Jackie said in disbelief. “Something that serious and she didn’t even punish you?”
“She will,” I sighed. “She will.”
We continued on to school. Jackie apologized about ten times for getting me in trouble in Mrs. Horner’s class. I told her it wasn’t her fault because I should have been paying attention and not watching her.
“By the way,” she asked, “How did detention go?”
“Not too bad,” I replied. “Mr. Marshall had us alphabetizing some stupid schedules.”
“Us?” Jackie asked as she looked over at me.
“Yeah,” I responded. “Me and Dion Washington. Do you know him?”
“Isn’t he that cute black guy in our class?” she asked. “He never says anything to anyone. What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing. He said he did nothing.”
“Yeah sure. You get detention because you did nothing.”
“I don’t like him,” I confessed. “He’s awfully rude. He wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“He doesn’t talk to anyone,” she said. “He’s in two of my classes this year, and I’ve never seen him say anything to anyone. He pretty much stays to himself.”
“With his attitude,” I said, “I can understand why.”
“Maybe he needs a friend,” she offered.
“Then he should get a dog."
After arriving at school, we headed to our classes. A couple of students in my first period came up to me and told me I was brave for telling Mrs. Horner to shut up. Mr. Wellington, the literature teacher, walked up and lectured us on the importance of being respectful to our elders.
“Just think how you would feel if you were forty and a child told you to shut up,” he remarked.
“I’d smack him into tomorrow,” laughed Clinton, one of the guys who had shown his appreciation for my disrespectful behavior toward Mrs. Horner.
“Well, unfortunately, Clinton,” responded Mr. Wellington, “teachers can’t do that. As much as we’d like to sometimes,” he said quickly as he walked off.
I met up with Jackie for lunch. We’ve been sitting at the same table for the past year and a half. We had staked it out the first day, and it had become ours. Lunch tables are like the opening of the Oklahoma territory. When the bell rings that first day of school, students rush to the cafeteria to ‘claim their territory.’ For the remainder of the school year, that becomes their assigned eating place. No one dares to infringe upon it.
There are a few tables along the walls where most of the students who have no friends sit. Occasionally, they might strike up a conversation; but they sit wherever there is an open seat.
Jackie and I declared squatters’ rights at our table the first day. It wasn’t in the center of the cafeteria where most of the popular students sit; but it was far enough from the walls so we didn’t look like losers.
“How’s your day been?” Jackie asked as I sat down.
“One word- boring,” I replied.
“It is school, you know,” she said. “It’s supposed to be boring. If it wasn’t, we just might learn something.”
“You got that right,” I laughed.
“Guess what?” she asked excitedly. “I know why Dion has detention. He’s in my second period, and I heard students talking about him.”
“What did he do? I know it wasn’t for talking in class, since he doesn’t talk to anyone.”
“Brenda was in the cafeteria yesterday,” she began. “She was behind him in the food line and saw him put a sandwich in his pocket. Then he got a milk and paid just for it. As soon as he walked away, Mr. Marshall stopped him, checked his pocket, and found the sandwich. He then took him to the office.”
“He stole food?” I held up my dry bologna sandwich and waved it around. “Who would steal this crap?”
“Maybe he was hungry and didn’t have the money to pay for it.”
“Why doesn’t he get a free lunch then?” I wondered. “I thought students who couldn’t afford it got a free meal.”
“Beats me,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I felt sorry for him though. You know Brenda has a big mouth, and he heard every word she said.”
I was going to say I didn’t feel sorry for him, but Jackie would have gotten upset. She is always fighting for the underdog. Jackie is the kind of girl who would give an addict on the street her last dollar, believing that he will actually buy food with it instead of drugs.
We sat for the next few minutes without saying anything. I was deep in thought, wondering why someone like Dion would steal food from the cafeteria. I wondered if he came from a poor family and took it because there was nothing at his house for him to eat. Suddenly, I began to feel sorry for him. Not sorry enough, though, that I would give him my last dollar.
“Look!” exclaimed Jackie, interrupting my thoughts. “There goes Donovan.” She dreamily watched him walk across the cafeteria. Donovan Michaels is a star basketball player for our school. He is 6’5” and extremely handsome. He has long black hair that matches the beginnings of a dark mustache. Every girl in school swoons when they see him. Unfortunately for them, rumor has it that he plays for the other side.
“You should ask him out,” suggested Jackie.
I spit out the mouthful of milk I had just sipped. “What!” I shouted. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?” she asked. “You’re one of the cutest guys in our class, except for Donovan, of course; and maybe Gene Pooler.” Gene is another handsome guy who is admired by everyone. Unfortunately, for the throngs of worshipping teen girls, he has been faithfully dating the same girl since the eighth grade.
“Like he’d go out with me.”
“You’d make a cute couple.” She continued to try to play matchmaker. “He’s tall and...”
“I’m short,” I interrupted.
“He has black hair...”
“And I have blond.”
“He has brown eyes...”
“And I have baby blues.”
“He’s athletic...”
“And my idea of sports is watching it on television. That is, if I don’t fall asleep.”
“See,” she insisted. “Opposites attract. You’re a perfect couple.”
“Shut up, Jackie,” I laughed.
“That remark just got you five days of detention.” She started to laugh until I cast her a dirty look.
“Oops, sorry,” she apologized. “Will I see you later then?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Come by the house after dinner. Since Mom isn’t talking to me, I might need someone around who likes me.”
“Who said I like you?” The bell rang and she got up to leave. As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I still think you should ask Donovan out.” I rolled my eyes and headed off to class.
Later, when I entered Mrs. Horner’s fifth period class, she ignored me when I walked into the room. She was talking to another student. She looked over at me but then looked away. I had a sinking feeling that I was going to have to struggle to get a good grade for the rest of the year.
“Don’t talk to me,” I said to Jackie as I sat down. “And don’t look at me.” I sat for the next hour being the most attentive student in the class. I forced my eyes to stay open when she lectured on the battle strategies of the North and the South during the Civil War. By the time she got to the Battle of Gettysburg, I was afraid I’d need toothpicks to hold my eyelids open. I looked around the room, and I was about the only student still awake, except Agatha Grimwold. She was sitting in the front row taking notes. Taking notes!
When the bell rang, I was almost catatonic. Jackie lifted her head off the desk. She wiped the table off where she had drooled on it while she was asleep. “Did I miss anything important?”
“Only one of the greatest lectures of all time,” I yawned.
“Yeah, right.”
At the end of the day, I put all my books in my locker. There was no sense in taking them with me. After yesterday, I knew Mr. Marshall wouldn’t let us do our homework. I would just get them when detention was over.
When I walked into his office, Dion was talking quietly to him. They suddenly stopped when I entered.
“Good,” he looked at his watch. “You’re on time.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two toothbrushes. He thrust one towards me. “Here.”
My eyes widened as he handed me a blue one. He gave Dion a yellow one. “What do you want us to do with these?”
“Take these to the boys’ restroom on the second floor and scour the urinals.”
“What?” I shouted as I jumped from my chair. “You can’t be serious? Can you? They only do this in the movies, right?”
“I’ll check on you in an hour,” he responded seriously as he walked out of the room.
“I can’t believe this!” I shouted. “I’m not going to clean pissy urinals. He didn’t even give us gloves.” Dion just sat and looked at me while I paced around the room raging like a mad man.
“There has to be a law against this. I‘m going to call the police!” I looked down and saw a smile begin to form in the corner of Dion’s mouth. “What’s going on here?”
“Gotcha!” Mr. Marshall peeked his head in the door and began to laugh. He walked in holding his sides. “That was priceless, James.” I looked down at Dion. He was trying hard not to laugh.
“I guess you think it’s funny?” I asked angrily.
“Actually it was,” laughed Mr. Marshall. “I’ve pulled this on dozens of students. I don’t think any have gotten as upset as you.”
“And you were in on it?” I asked Dion. “That’s why you didn’t say anything.”
“Don’t get mad at him,” said Mr. Marshall. “He was supposed to play along.” He looked down at Dion.
“Sorry,” he replied meekly.
“Okay, Gentleman.” He started for the door. “Follow me.”
We trailed behind him as he led us to the gym. The basketball team was playing a scrimmage on the court. We followed Mr. Marshall into the locker room. He opened the door and we entered the training room. He led us over to a table with a pile of wrinkled towels on top.
“The team’s manager is off sick today,” he explained. “The coach needs someone to fold these towels. I’ll come back in an hour and get you.” He turned and walked out, leaving me once again alone with Mr. Sunshine.
“Here.” I divided the pile into two stacks. “You fold these, and I’ll do this pile.” We began to fold without speaking for about thirty minutes. I never realized that folding towels could be so tiring. My arms were starting to hurt after I had finished the first hundred. I was counting them as I folded them.
Suddenly, there was a loud commotion as the team entered the dressing room. They were sweating profusely and pushing one another. I stopped folding when I saw Donovan walking towards me.
“Hey Little Dude,” he smiled. “How about a towel?” I almost melted into his eyes when I looked up. He stood staring down at me as I let my eyes wander over his muscular features. “Towel, Dude,” he laughed as he snapped his finger in my face. I handed him a towel and watched him strut into the changing room. What I would have given to have been that towel. In about fifteen minutes, it would be drying his naked body.
I looked over and saw Dion studying me. He looked away quickly, but not before our eyes met. I felt a shiver run through my body. I felt he had noticed my attraction to Donovan, and I was afraid he knew my secret.
We continued folding the towels, and within ten minutes we had completed the task. I looked at the clock. It would be another ten minutes before Mr. Marshall came to get us. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I informed Dion. I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him where I was going, but I did.
My timing couldn’t have been any better. When I walked into the changing room, Donovan was standing naked in front of a bench, toweling himself off. I tried not to look; but how can a gay boy walk into a room and see the hottest guy in school standing naked before him and not look?
I started blushing profusely when I finally was able to pry my stare away from his body and look upward into his grinning face. He had caught me perving over his body! I hurried into the restroom and leaned against the wall. I was breathing heavily. If there was any doubt in my mind about my sexuality, it had been answered.
Fortunately, the basketball team had left by the time I walked back into the changing room. Dion was sitting on one of the benches waiting for me. I sat down quickly on the bench about three feet away from him.
We sat quietly looking at the walls of the gym room. It’s funny how much you can notice when you’re sitting with someone who won’t talk to you and you don’t want to act as if it is bothering you. I saw several marks that looked like they could have resulted from towel fights. If they popped them hard enough to scrap the paint off the wall, I shuddered to think what marks they left on someone.
Occasionally, I’d look over and notice Dion looking at me. Of course, he’d quickly look away. Soon I made it a little game. Each time I would look over a little quicker just to see how fast he could turn his head away. I guess he got tired of playing the game because he stopped looking at me.
Mr. Marshall returned and led us back to his office. Again, he congratulated us on our hard work. He reminded us to be prompt again the next day.
I walked down the hall to retrieve my books from my locker. Dion was walking about five feet behind me. I turned and made another attempt to talk to him.
“That wasn’t too bad,” I said. He just looked at me and said nothing.
“Mr. Marshall really got me though when he handed us the toothbrushes.” I laughed. For just a second, it looked like Dion wanted to smile. I swear that the corners of his mouth started to curl.
“Whatever,” he remarked. He then hurried off down the hall and exited the building. Three more days. Three days was all that was left to endure his unfriendly attitude.
When I arrived home, my mother was working in her office. She is a freelance writer and writes from home. She works for a magazine doing research on various subjects and then submitting them for publication. She also does work for several advertising companies, writing captions for ads. Because of the money she makes from her writing, her alimony payments and the check she get each week from my father for child support, we live comfortably.
“Hi, Mom,” I said as I passed her door. She was sitting at her computer writing.
“Hello, James Michael,” she replied without looking up. Good. She had reduced her anger to two names. By tomorrow, it should be back to James. However, she still hadn’t given me my punishment. I knew it was just a matter of time.
I went to my room, closed the door and lay down on my bed. I didn’t want to forget the image of Donovan naked in the changing room. I began to fantasize about making out with him when suddenly Dion's face appeared.
Dion? What was that all about? I was fantasizing about Donovan. How did Dion manage to creep into it?
Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. “Mom said dinner’s ready,” shouted Janet. I jumped off the bed and changed into an old sweat suit, puzzled by my fantasy.
Dinner was awkward. Mom still wasn’t talking to me. Usually, dinner involved talking about school and things we were learning in class. Janet told her about passing a math test, but all my mother said was, ‘That’s nice, dear.’
After dinner, Janet and I cleaned the table while Mom retired to her office. I washed and Janet dried. “What happened?” Janet asked as we were about finished. “Mom’s not even talking to you. What did you do, get some girl pregnant or something?”
“No I didn’t get a girl pregnant,” I replied angrily. “And besides, you’re too young to know about things like that.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“James Michael Hoskins!” My mother shouted from her office. “I want to see you.”
“Uh, oh,” said Janet. “She used your whole name. You’re in for it now.” I turned and headed slowly to her office. I guess the judge was ready to hand down her sentence.