Out Is In

The stories in Out Is In are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright Š 2012 by Rage! Press under the Authority of BecHavn Publishing and Production Group

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First Edition.

ISBN: 978-1-105-75996-3 Printed in the United States of America ragepress.com

To Adam, Allen, Archie, Dana, John, Kyle, Robyn, Steve, Todd, all the microbe hunters, and others who seek out ways to heal wounds of many different kinds.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Light it Up Splat Skipping Abandoned The Great Cheesecake Debate Frogs Playlist It’s All Relative Evan in the Woods Detention The Gas Pain from Hell My Essay for Mr. Canton A Rebel in My Own Mind A Two Man Play for the Blind Come to the Dork Side Da Kine Plane

9 13 17 21 27 33 39 47 55 71 81 99 101 103 107 125

Notes and Resources

166

It was that time of day when school was over, the sun was still shining, and the younger kids were riding their bikes and running all over the neighborhood park. Denny didn’t have to be home for another hour, and Trace could go home whenever he pleased, which usually meant midnight.

They were sitting on a picnic table in the park, their feet side by side on the bench seat. Birds and spring flowers were welcome sights on this first pleasant day of spring.

Trace was snapping a lighter on and off, pretending to set fire to his shirtsleeves. Denny wished he would quit, but knew he wouldn’t until he had singed himself badly enough for it to hurt. Denny actually understood this need for pain, for some kind of visible mark. He knew Trace like he knew himself, or thought he had known himself. They had been best friends since third grade, after all. It was funny how much they looked alike, both with unremarkable brown hair and brown eyes, both slender and agile. When they were together, they both looked better. Denny had no idea why that was, unless it was because they were happiest when in each other’s company.

Denny knew Trace had no idea that he had begun cutting himself; he’d made sure of that. It had only been for the past year or so, but Trace had only just started this fire thing. He sure as hell knew why he himself had started, but Trace? What secret pain could he have hidden?

The sun was dimming as clouds thickened over it. There was a sudden chill in the air. Denny thought he’d go home early tonight, but he didn’t want to leave Trace when he was like this, flaky and fiery. It made him uncomfortable. On a whim, he rolled up his shirtsleeve and held his bare arm out in front of his friend. The last rays of sunlight caught his light skin and turned it golden, and also put the small scars on the inside of his forearm in deep relief, making them look huge.

Trace looked, flicked his lighter off, and put it in his pocket. “Aw geez, man,” he said sadly, his eyes searching Denny’s. He reached out and took Denny’s arm, running his fingers over the light, thin scars. “You’ve been cutting yourself?” he asked. “Why?” A million thoughts burst over Denny’s mind like fireworks in the night. He tore his eyes away from Trace’s, looked everywhere else, bit his lip.

Might as well tell him, he’d find out soon enough anyway. Fuck. He took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and stammered out, “Trace – I – I’m gay.”

There. He had said it aloud for the very first time. He hadn’t been planning to, but what the hell. No more denying it. No more thinking it would go away

and hide in a closet – ha – or under a shirtsleeve. Unexpectedly, scared now, he found himself blurting out more. “I suppose you hate me now.”

Trace’s serious eyes searched Denny’s moist ones. “You big goof,” he said quietly. “Don’t you know?”

Denny’s mind was black with despair. Trace’s words did not even register; Trace could see that they went right over his head. He knew Denny was afraid he’d lose him. He’d known this for a long while, probably longer than Denny had known himself, and why.

Trace rolled his eyes. He picked up Denny’s hand and held it, kissed the palm of it, kissed the scars, lightly, delicately, then lifted his eyes to Denny’s once again. “I...”

What else he’d been going to say was obliterated as a massive lightning strike hit a tree on the other side of the field, roaring out of those innocently building clouds that now covered the sun and the entire western half of the sky. The thunder was immediate. Trace quickly pulled Denny down with him beneath the picnic table. Denny's hands were over his eyes and he was shaking. Trace was watching the tree smolder and then burst into flames. His arms were around Denny and he could feel his friend’s fear. “This is awesome, Den, you should look! Aw, honey, don’t cry, I’m here.” He had to force his eyes away from the burning tree, but there wasn’t enough light to see Denny anyhow, so he just kissed his cheek and let his eyes roam back to the tree of fire as sirens went off. Still watching the fire, his arms around his friend, caressing Denny’s body, he whispered, “Wow, look, you admit you’re gay and the whole world erupts in flames! Who knew?” He shrugged and said to himself, besides me, I mean.

Denny burst into tears, wailing as if he were a two year old wanting his mother. Where normally he would have found one of Trace’s quick comments hysterically funny, right now he was too overwhelmed. He had just blurted out his deepest, darkest secret, and to the only friend he had in the world. He wanted to die. He couldn’t bear to live if he lost Trace, he thought.

Trace, who was used to Denny’s penchant for drama, ignored his friend’s outburst and covered his face with kisses, only too happy to take advantage of Denny’s neediness. Finally – Finally, Denny was ready. Trace had known he himself was gay for years. He had started wondering about Denny only in the past year. Six months ago, he was sure. He had been waiting ever since. “I have you, don’t be – smooch – afraid.” His hands reached a bit lower with every kiss. Denny’s admission had been a long overdue free ticket to Heaven, in Trace’s opinion. His hands were slowly, but surely, approaching ‘ground zero’.

“I don’t want to die,” Denny mumbled with a hiccup, contradicting himself. It began to dawn on him that Trace was not exactly shocked or

horrified, but indeed was behaving very – pleasantly. He thought he could get used to this. He thought that maybe, if Trace thought he was really frightened, and of course he was not, he was only pretending to be… then he could see just how far Trace was willing to go. Maybe he could make Trace commit himself without… wait a minute… wait. Oh! Was… Denny had to bite his lip, and then what the hell; he nibbled on Trace’s lip as well, since it was right there, after all.

Besides, the way things were right now, Trace need never know whether it was true that he was gay, or just under so much shock from their near miss with death that he had gone temporarily crazy. So, if Trace were straight but just acting weird, then, no problem! So thinking, Denny kissed Trace’s cheek lightly, and tried to fake a sob. It turned into hiccup, but it seemed to work as Trace’s hands went down, down, down. Denny’s body belied his urge to pretend, or hide any longer. That sudden, just like lightning striking a tree, he was no longer afraid, either of the storm, himself, or of being hurt.

The lightning strobed and blinded again and the tree continued to burn. Fire trucks were arriving now and it was starting to rain. Underneath the picnic table, however, neither of the boys noticed a thing. They had their own lightning to take care of now.

“I was there.” That was all Jace said, but I knew instantly what this quiet kid sitting behind me meant. It was the talk of the day. Some random guy had jumped off a parking garage near the school earlier this morning.

Nobody knew who it was, or even if the guy had been a student here.

Everybody was worried sick or wondering about any kid who hadn’t shown up today.

Study hall was supposed to be a quiet time of learning, and if we kept our conversation quiet, maybe I would actually learn something. In all honestly, I was still immature enough to want to be the one who announced to everyone that I knew who it was… It sure wouldn’t be Jace who told everyone, as he hardly ever spoke to anyone.

With mixed grace, Matt turned to face the quiet boy behind him. He took in his neat dark hair, his deep sea-blue eyes, and realized he was a very good-looking kid, and yet he was never joking with the girls or bragging about his ‘conquests’ like the other boys did, loudly and obnoxiously. Even he himself did it, though almost all of his was pure fiction.

“Did you see it?” Matt asked, not sure he really wanted details or not.

Jace looked down and bit his lip. Matt blinked. What? “What?” he asked stupidly.

When Jace looked back up from under long lashes, there were tears in his eyes, staying there, making diamonds against the blue.

“Uh oh,” thought Matt. “Mmmm. Shit. Fuck. No. Please?”

“What?” asked Jace, looking bewildered, his head tilting and his lips staying apart.

“I – said that out loud? Ha-ha!” returned Matt, as red flushed up his cheeks in a storm. He blinked and his tongue darted out to lick his suddenly dry lips. “The – the – man, right?” his voice chose right then to break.

The tears broke over Jace’s lower lids and started down his cheeks, but he had them off with the back of his hand in a heartbeat. A blush of embarrassment bloomed in his cheeks. He looked at his hand, as if he’d never seen it before. “It wasn’t – a man,” he stammered.

“What?”

“It was a kid, from here, from our class.”

“Who?” “And it was my fault.”

Matt’s whole being changed, not just his goal – which had been to get the low-down, the scoop, and be the big shot that spread the news. His entire focus however, went from on himself to on this boy before him, a living, breathing, hurting (not to mention sexy as hell) human being – just like himself.

“Come on, we’re skipping out of here,” he whispered, and he grabbed Jace’s elbow, stood up, and sidled out the back door of the classroom.

Once outside, Matt led Jace to the woods and a short way down a trail he knew, to a wooded area where they could be alone. It was too beautiful a day for death to have touched it. It jarred him, this dichotomy, but there it was. Now, he settled himself against a tree, and pulled Jace, who was wiping his arm across his face, down beside him. Jace leaned against him and Matt could feel him quivering with an effort not to sob.

Matt dared to brush his lips against Jace’s cheek, and Jace stilled beside him, took a deep, shuddering breath, and began to speak.

“You know Jacob? The quarterback on the team? How he pushes and knocks the food trays off the weaker kids’ tables… and calls them names all the time?”

“Oh yes,” breathed Matt, almost more interested in inhaling Jace’s faint almond scent. Part of him wanted Jace to shut up and just exhale so he could breathe in Jace’s breath. The perfect place, the perfect person, and the kid was upset enough that he would think Matt was just being ‘kind’ - just in case his affections were not appreciated. Oh yeah, Matt could take advantage of this opportunity. His dick agreed.

Jace, oblivious, hiccupped and continued. “Yesterday he took me aside after school. I thought he was going to beat me up like he and his friends did… well, one other time. But he didn’t. Instead he was alone, and he grunted and then stammered out, ’You’re a fag, right?’ and I thought here it comes, he’s going to hurt me. Then he said, ‘You want to – go with me? We could – take my car up to the point.’ You know, where kids go to park and make out?’”

Matt stared at Jace, pulling his head back away from him in order to focus. He was not surprised; the jocks were always doing cruel shit like that.

“Well, I got mad,” Jace said, staring off at the sky, “And I told him hell no I wasn’t a fag, and if he was he could just go fuck himself because no other ‘fag’ in his right mind would ever want to.” He looked back at Matt. “I lied, Matt. I am gay. I didn’t want him to know and then hurt me because he thought I was a sissy. That makes sense doesn’t it?”

It made perfect sense to Matt. “But – wait, Jace, are you saying Jacob was the one who – who – fell off the parking garage today?”

“He didn’t fall, Matt. Yes, it was him. I saw him jump – I saw him

land. He was gone that quick. It was like – lights out. Dead. He was limp as a Raggedy Andy doll tossed in a corner. Oh shit.”

“But how is that your fault, Jace, honey?” Matt didn’t even realize what he’d said. He was wiping tears off Jace’s face now with his fingertips.

“I found a note in my locker this morning. It was from Jacob. I didn’t have the guts to read it – I know he blamed me, I just know it – oh, here, read it!” and Jace thrust a crumpled piece of notebook paper at Matt, turning away again and putting his hands over his face.

Matt spread open the sheet of paper and began to read it silently.

“Jace, this is not your fault. It’s true though, I am gay, and I know you are too.

I really did want to be with you. I know you’re right; I’m a big joke and no one will ever want me.”

Matt looked up at Jace’s buried face, hearing him trying so hard not to cry, and then he looked at the sky, then the trees, then his own hands, which were busy tearing the paper into shreds. He took a deep breath. “All it says is,” he stated quietly, “‘I’m sorry I was so mean to you. I’ve been mean to everyone’.” Matt thought hard, then added, “’I’m afraid I’m really going to hurt someone some time, so I’m going to end this now.’”

Then he did something he hadn’t done since he was small. He closed his eyes and prayed, prayed hard that he had done the right thing. Only then did he put his arms all the way around Jace, pull him to him, and bury his face in Jace’s shoulder. Jace’s tears ran down Matt’s neck, joining in with his own, forming into one, one tear that was big enough for a person to drown in.

Wild Bill was cutting classes again. His mom had driven him to school and watched him enter the front of the building. She watched as his black jacket blended into the crowded hallway full of other kids in blacks and grays. His wild head of black curly hair was fast disappearing into the crowd.

She sighed, watching him until he disappeared completely.

She turned the car and hadn’t even left the parking lot yet, when Bill was at the back door of the school, letting himself out, and dashing into the woods behind the building. He was thinking of his mother; she was so easy; sweet, but dumb. He loved her, but hated being in school even more, though he had never yet told her why. It would only hurt her to know how badly he was bullied; maybe hurt her even more if she knew why.

Bill meandered through the woods slowly; he had all day now to do whatever he wanted. Eventually he came to the road, looked both ways, and then up at the sky. If it was sunny, he usually hitched a ride to the park, but today was overcast, gloomy, and threatening to rain, so he crossed the street and started hitching a ride in the other direction, toward the library back in town.

Once there, he looked around nervously, though so far he had never encountered anyone he knew. He entered with several college students, and headed for the private study rooms at the back. Only one was still open and he went in, closed the door behind him, caught his breath – safe at last - and turned around.

Oh, crap. A kid was sitting there, staring at him. A blond, browneyed kid his own age, who looked like he had been crying. “You can stay,” the boy muttered, with a hitch in his breath. He looked completely miserable.

A hiccup that almost split the kid in half followed his words, and an embarrassed flush rose in his face.

Bill laughed somewhat hysterically; he couldn’t help it. He was instantly sorry, but it was too late; it had been funny. Still, he threw his backpack down anyway, drew out a chair and sat down, slouching back onto his butt and putting his feet up on the table. “Oh, I know you!” he realized suddenly. “You sit behind me in algebra, don’t you? Ted, isn’t it?”

Ted nodded, pouting.

“Well, OK, ahem,” Bill said, peacefully“, we’re both skipping. Not gonna tell on me without getting yourself in trouble!”

Ted just blinked. “Why would I do that?” he asked, looking hurt.

“I’m sorry, it’s just – well, fuck.” Bill gave up. “Why are you here?

You get good grades. People leave you alone. I thought you were one of those goody-goody kids who do well because they have perfect lives and like school.” Bill cast his eyes at Ted for a moment, then quickly looked away, not liking what he saw there.

“Me?” Ted asked, his mouth gaping a second in disbelief. “You’re shitting me, right?”

Well this is going well, Bill thought in confusion.

“You’re the popular one!” Ted grumbled, pouting for real now, his lower lip sticking out, his eyes snapping fire.

The funniest feeling came over Bill right then as he stared at Ted’s lip, glanced quickly up at his eyes, and then back down, watching Ted lick that lip. He was afraid he’d be caught staring so blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. “I could drown in your eyes; they’re the same brown as the water at the edge of the river, where the hiking bridge goes over it in the south end of the park.” Then he blushed furiously, embarrassed and chagrined at what had come out of his mouth.

Ted, who had stiffened, was turning white. He looked like he was going to pass out, and indeed as Bill watched, he started to slide sideways, and his eyes closed. Shit! He jumped to his feet and ran around the table, catching Ted and lowering both of them to the floor. He didn’t think about putting Ted’s head lower than his knees or anything, but instead found himself sitting with Ted’s head on his lap, patting his cheeks. “Jesus! I’m sorry! What’d I say? What’d I say?” His heart was pounding furiously. The knob of the door starting to turn and Bill shouted, “Fuck off!” and the door stayed shut. He deliberately had to slow his breathing to calm himself.

After his heart slowed a bit, his body came up with a better idea than his brain’s idea to apologize. He bent and kissed Ted’s hair, and stroked his arm, then rested his hand on Ted’s hip. OK, I’m evil. Shoot me. Oh God, he smells so good! Oh, shit! He’s looking at me!

A half-smile lit Ted’s patchy-white face. It didn’t last long. “It’s OK,” he said. “I kinda like that…”

Sanity returned to Bill. “Uh, tell me what I said wrong? I’m so sorry.”

Ted’s eyes closed. “It’s just that something - happened last weekend.

Right there, where the river goes under that bridge.” His whole body shuddered. Bill liked it.

Nobody spoke. Bill’s hands played. Ted sighed. He looked up at Bill, quickly, then back at nothing, or everything.

“She – my sister. It was Saturday night. She’s – was – engaged to this guy, Brian. He’s in college. Well, actually, he was in college, but his parents made him leave and go on a mission. We – my parents – it’s their religion, it’s strict, you know? And she – my sister, Linea – she tried. Fuck!”

Bill waited. Being quiet was unusual for him, but he managed it. He knew he just had to wait now. He felt he had all the life and input he could handle with just Ted’s voice and his own hands on Ted’s body, softly touching, feeling. Seeing Ted’s mouth move, his eyes tear up, his chest rising and falling with his breath was almost more than he could handle.

Ted squirmed, but stayed where he was. His hand played with the fabric on Bill’s jeans now, then touched his bare skin, his flat belly, where his shirt had pulled out of his jeans. Bill thought his heart might explode.

“She – they insisted she date this guy. Any guy really, but they sort of picked him out for her and they made them go out. She was a good girl and she did what they told her, and he got her pregnant, big surprise. You know how some religions are, women are nothing, not in my family’s version anyhow! So, she did what they said, and then she did what Brian said. And she got pregnant.”

“Last Saturday she told me she couldn’t go through with it. She didn’t want to be with Brian, he was disgusting, he was, – all guys were. I thought she just hadn’t liked him screwing her and she’d be fine once she got used to it! I didn’t know! I found out this morning she meant she – liked girls.

“Last Saturday night she went out, but Brian hadn’t picked her up.

He said she’d told him she had to wash her hair! But she – she – oh God, Bill.

She went to the river, climbed under the bridge, and threw herself into the water. She drowned herself!”

Bill felt a tear drip off his own chin and fall onto Ted’s cheek, where it melted into Ted’s own tears, brimming over his lower lids.

Bill’s thoughts were a jumble. His own family was not religious at all, was not anything. Bunch of drunks is what they were. If he had to label them, he would say they didn’t know what to believe, so they believed they’d have some more beer, har har har. His stepfather had made that up. His mother had been drunk so much he had learned to cook his own meals, pack his own lunch for school, and do his own laundry. He’d never been able to figure out how to iron, and whenever he saw the cool kids, with their freshly ironed Polo or button-down shirts and fresh and clean khakis, and there he stood in his torn blue jeans and wrinkled shirt, he was jealous. Even right now, he could see Ted’s neatly pressed shirt and ironed jeans. Good grief. “Is your underwear ironed too?” he heard himself ask.

“What? Er, yes”, Ted replied off hand. “My mom does that.”

“Well, fuck”, said Bill, and then felt bad. Ted seemed to take it in stride, “She killed herself because she couldn’t be what my parents wanted her to be. She just couldn’t pretend, or hide who she was, any longer. And – neither can I.” Bill stiffened and held perfectly still. “What do you mean”, he breathed. “I’m – gay, Ted replied.”

“Oh.” Bill grinned hugely, then stifled it. “Um, so am I!” he said, trying not to sound ecstatic, then having to stop his hand from moving off Ted’s belly toward something more – interesting. Now was not the time, he told himself sternly. Then he realized where Ted’s hand was… oh shit. That was hard – uh, hard to miss.

Ted’s eyes were brimming again and his breath hitching, hiccups followed by gasps. “I – I…” He sat up but left his hand on Bill’s lap. Bill’s dick responded insistently. Then Ted kissed him. On the lips. Insistently. Oh geez.

Bill was melting.

At just that moment, as if to prove that God, in fact, does not hate fags, lightning hit so close by that the power in the library went off with a bang. As blackness descended on the private study room the boys were in, not that they noticed anyhow what with their eyes closed, their lips locked and their hands busy, thunder rolled and roared and graciously covered the ensuing sounds of discovery, bodies bumping into chairs and table legs, and joy. They were alive, and found enough pleasure in the next few moments to ensure that they wanted to stay so, in spite of losses, school bullies, or parents’ expectations.

Rest in peace, Linea

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