“Swear to God,” Mason told him. “I’m not gay, but for a million I’d totally redecorate this motherfucker for you. I mean, I’m thinking a big old blood red horse head over your bed, a monster over there.”
“Um,” Balliol smiled and made a contented sound, “I always wanted a horse head.”
“Everyone needs a good horse head,” Tommy remarked.
“Tommy said—” Mason began.
Tommy’s eyes darted over to Mason.
“That you mom is totally hot.”
“Mason!”
Balliol grinned.
“Well, she is,” Mason said. “She looks like Naomi Campbell. Is she Naomi Campbell? Because she’s got the accent. Balliol, she’s hot.”
“She’s my mother,” Balliol said, rolling his eyes and collapsing on the bed. “I guess she is hot... I just don’t think about it. I mean, she breastfed me for God’s sake.”
“Lucky baby,” Mason remarked.
Balliol got up and punched him in the arm and then sat back down on the bed, grinning.
“Is that a smile I see, Lincoln Balliol?” Mason said. “Because the Lincoln Balliol I know and pretend to love does not grin and get embarrassed.”
Balliol took out another cigarette and said, “The Lincoln Balliol you knew didn’t have to put up with a Mason Darrow. So, Tommy, my Mom’s hot to you?”
Tommy blushed and said, “She’s very pretty.”
“Where do you think I get my looks from?”
Mason screwed up his face, as if looking for the answer and said, “It must be your dad.”
“Ouch,” Tommy muttered.
“Well, I’m not a supermodel,” Balliol admitted. “And mom was. Back in England, where she met Dad.”
“Your whole family’s English?” Tommy said.
“Dad’s Scottish,” Balliol said. “Yes, I’m the only Yank. And not that much.”
Mason said, seriously. “You’re British. That explains so much about you.”
Balliol just gave him a small smile and kept talking.
“My mom was one of those lucky bitches who got paid someone else’s year salary just to walk down a catwalk in a thong and a raincoat.”
“I need to walk down a catwalk in a thong and a raincoat,” Mason said, thoughtfully. “Or maybe just the thong.”
“Oh I’d certainly pay to see that,” Balliol said.
Mason turned to Tommy.
“Me too,” Tommy said, blandly. “I mean, what are friends for? But I couldn’t pay you fifty-thousand dollars. I think I’ve got ten-fifty in my account right now. Balliol, can I use your bathroom?”
“Do I make you nauseous?”
“Huh?”
“Every time I see you, you’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Balliol said.
Tommy smirked. “Weak bladder.”
“I guess,” Balliol said, and pointed to the bathroom door.
When Tommy had closed the door and they heard the flusher, Mason said, “He does that so you can’t hear him peeing.”
“I do that too,” Balliol said, amazed. “Whenever I’m in public. But... I try not to use public restrooms. They’re...”
“Undignified?”
“Just the word I was looking for.
“Look, Mason,” Balliol said, reaching into his pillows. “Before Tommy gets back.”
“Why? A Bible? You were reading the Bible?’
“I’m not an atheist, just an Anglican. And while I’m sure to the casual observer the two might look a lot alike, I am a Christian.
“I’m just feeling, I’m reading all sorts of weird things, and I find myself sitting around reading the Bible and smoking and drinking and... I guess meditating. I feel a little like I’m losing my mind. Or like, I should be lonely. I think about calling people. I think about calling you
up actually. And I like us hanging out, but I also like my... loneliness, I guess. I like being alone. You’re not supposed to l—”
The toilet flushed again, and then they could hear the faucet in Balliol’s bathroom.
Balliol stuffed the Bible back under the pillow.
“It’s just my life is changing a lot and I feel a little cracked and if I told Tommy he’d think I needed to get saved or something... I can’t be bothered with that bullshit.”
“Maybe it’s Sully,” Mason said.
“Uh?”
“I know I’m not... Well, I try not to bring it up, because he’s your friend and all. But he was your best friend and now he’s hanging around with Chris and the football team. Like their mascot or something. Maybe you need to talk to him.”
The door opened and Tommy was coming out.
Balliol said, “I don’t want him around right now. That’s the oddest part. Sully that is,” Balliol told Tommy. “Everything’s changed and everything’s weird. But it’s better too.”
“My dad says,” Mason told them, “that sometimes losing your mind and finding yourself look a lot alike. And he’s gotta be right because—even though I’d trust him totally with my life—he’s still the craziest fucker I’ve ever met.”
CHRIS POWERS WAS STANDING IN the small huddle of the last of the football team members heading home after practice when he greeted Seth.
Seth was walking towards his truck with Addison Cromptley.
“Chris,” he said levelly, gave him a slight wave and walked on.
“Nice of you to acknowledge the trash you used to associate with,” Ryan Albert said.
Chris shrugged and said, “He’s just got problems. That could be any of us.”
Seth’s truck revved up. It needed a new engine. It turned around and puttered out of the parking lot onto the street.
“End of the season party at my house tomorrow,” Mercurio said, as he hopped into the passenger seat of Hardesty’s car.
“We’ll be there,” Chris said.
“Later, Powers. Later, Sully,” Hardesty added and the two of them rolled out of the empty parking lot.
“So, now what do you want to do? My house or your house? Ooh!’ Chris lifted a finger before Sully could say anything. “You mom’s cooking tonight, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Sully said. “But, I could tell her not to. I mean, we could go to your house if you wanted to.”
“No,” Chris looked incredulous. It was getting dark, the parking lot was almost completely empty at Saint Vitus’s. “That would be totally rude. Let’s go, Sullivan.”
They were walking together to the corner when Sully said, “You told Mercurio that we’d be at the party?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t say I. I mean,” Sully told him. “You said we.”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “You and me. Oh, wait? Did you have plans?” Chris furrowed his brow. “That’s what I do! I’m always making other people do stuff. I just assumed that—”
“No,” Sully said. “Of course I don’t. It’s just.... I’m not a football player and—”
“But they all like you,” Chris said. “You’re one of us.”
They kept walking down the street.
“The night’s so pretty,” Sully said. “That’s the best part of this time of year. The sky is perfect, and you can hear the birds. I don’t want winter to come. Winter’s so cold.”
“Have you ever been skiing before?” Chris said.
“No.”
You should,” Chris said. “My Dad always takes us skiing around Christmas. If your mom doesn’t mind you could come.” Then Chris added, “But only if you want to.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Say stuff like, ‘but only if you want to’.”
“Because... I think I have—or so I’ve been told I have a forceful personality.”
Sully chuckled and shook his head. “Not really.”
Chris was looking at Sully. Sully was smiling at him. The night was getting darker and darker. Street lights were coming on. A block away was Sully’s house.
“But—” Chris started.
And then he just kissed Sully.
The two of them looked at each other. Chris looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Sully.
“I don’t mind,” Sully said.
Chris bit his bottom lip, nodded, and they walked on toward Sully’s house.
“So how was that for you?”
“How was what for me?” Seth said to Addison.
“The great and powerful Chris Powers speaking to you?”
“Chris Powers is a fag,” Seth pronounced. “If I wasn’t that close by, and he could get away with it, he wouldn’t have even said anything. He gets all guilty and shit like, we used to be friends when we were five, so he better speak to me now. Whatever.”
“I don’t know him,” Addison said philosophically.
“You’re not missing much,” Seth told him. “Actually, if you haven’t met anyone on the football team, you’re not missing much.”
“Was that Sully Reardon?” Addison asked.
“Hum?”
“Sully Reardon. With Chris Powers?”
“I guess,” Seth shrugged. “You’re pretty fucking curious about people you normally don’t care about.”
Addison shrugged. “It’s just that Balliol is hanging with us now. With Mason, mainly, and I tend to take sides. Like, if Sully was his friend, but not now, and Balliol is more or less cool, then Sully can’t be cool too. You know? Someone’s got to be to blame. Even if it’s got nothing to do with me I wonder. Like with Hollywood breakups.”
“Well,” Seth said as he turned onto Breathmore, “the way I see it if Powers is a faggot and a tool—and he is, and he is—and Mason is cool, and he is, and Powers is hanging with Sully, and Balliol’s hanging with Mason, and I more or less like Balliol, though I don’t know him like I know Mase, then I’m gonna say that it’s Sully who was the fuck up in that group. But then... You never know.”
“But you and Mason and Chris grew up together.”
“Our dads are best friends. Chris Power’s dad is actually Mason’s godfather. Did you know that? My Dad was his Confirmation sponsor. It’s all incestuous and shit like that. Sidney is my godfather and Chris’s dad sponsored me when I got Confirmed and yada yada.”
“Well,” Addison looked mystified. “It’s just odd thinking that you and Mason and Chris are connected like that.”
“Odd but true. And Mason was younger than us. But everyone always liked him. He’s got that way about him, which is probably why I still talk to him and not Chris.”
“But Chris is popular,” Addison argued. “People like him.”
“No,” Seth disagreed. “Chris is a football player. He’s popular and important. People like Mason. They envy Chris. Trust me, Add, when it’s all said and done, nobody likes Chris Powers.”
Tina Reardon liked Chris Powers. It was nice to see her son with a friend, and because she wasn’t a very thoughtful woman, she never reflected that Sully had always had one friend and the last one had been replaced by this new one. The truth was that there had never been much talking to Balliol. He was always courteous and Tina got the feeling... not that Balliol thought that he was better, but that he actually was better, loftier, that he was always putting up with her. When Sully had been friends with Balliol, Tina Reardon was always conscious of the fact that the Balliols lived in another world and were far above her. Which made Lincoln Balliol far above her son.
Balliol didn’t come in the house and fill it with laughter the way Chris Powers did, and Balliol and Sully were never equals, the way he and Chris were becoming. Chris always walked into the house and announced how good it smelled, how nice she kept it. He appreciated her.
“My mom used to make that,” Chris would say whenever Tina cooked something she thought was common.
Yes, his mother was dead and while Tina couldn’t really replace her, she filled that roll a little bit. She liked mothering him. She privately thought that Balliol was gone for good. Balliol was... his whole problem was that he was just so damned self-sufficient already. Everything about him said he didn’t need anything. That hadn’t been good for Sully who could be, and Tina admitted this, looking at her son... needy.
“Mrs. Reardon, can I talk to Sullivan for a second?”
“Boy talk?” she said with a wink, and waved them out. “Go on out. Dinner should be ready in about five minutes.”
“Let me lay the plates out,” Chris offered.
“Get out,” she said. “You’re a guest.”
Chris shrugged and out in the hall he said, “Sullivan, I’m sorry.”
Sully looked at him.
“I don’t know what that was all about. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again. I,” Chris started over. “I swear, I’ve never done that, and... You’ve been looking all weird tonight.”
Sullivan Reardon had been feeling all weird tonight. For him the moment outside, a block away from the house, had been very different than it was for Chris. Maybe. Even with people he liked there was always a gulf between Sullivan and the other. He didn’t know that until it had been filled just a few minutes ago. When Chris had started rambling, as he often did, Sully felt the gulf growing smaller and smaller, Chris coming closer and closer. Chris had been getting closer and closer until suddenly, they were together. It had just happened and when it was over Chris was blinking at him and Sullivan was still feeling Chris’s lips on his, Chris’s mouth. He could still feel them now.
“I’m not mad at you, Chris,” Sullivan’s voice was without force, like a stereo where all the bass and the dimensions have been turned off. “I just...”
Chris cocked his head. This was so strange. Sullivan didn’t want to think about how he felt. He generally tried not to think of how he felt around Chris. But Chris was waiting.
“I liked it,” Sullivan said, at last.
Chris raised an eyebrow. His mouth was still open. They were both confused.
Sullivan Reardon decided that it was his time to speak now. He’d better take charge, Chris seemed incapable of it.
“I... There’s no point in pretending it didn’t happen. It’s all right. I liked it,” he repeated. “I... like you, Chris. I do. I think that’s what it is. That’s why this is different from other stuff. I... don’t know what this is. I think, I’m afraid of what will happen when we’re around each other.”
“Are you afraid we’ll end up gay?”
Sullivan laughed out loud and surprised himself. “That’s not the issue.” What he meant was it seemed too late for that, but Chris wouldn’t want to hear that. “What I mean is… if I like it. If I like you, if I open up and let things happen… Whatever happens... I don’t know that this is how you feel too.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Sully.”
Sullivan wasn’t quite sure he understood either. He clenched and unclenched his hands trying to say what was on his mind and then said, “I don’t care what happens between us. Whatever happens is fine with me. I don’t care where it runs its course. I trust it. I trust us. But I need to know that you don’t care either. That you’re okay with whatever happens.”
“Okay,” Chris said eagerly.
It was almost too eager and Sullivan pressed his luck.
“I need to know that before you go home tonight we can kiss again. I’d like that. I want to kiss you.”
Chris looked around to make sure Tina wasn’t coming out of the kitchen and then, quickly, he caught Sullivan’s face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth. It felt so good. It excited him, just like that first time. More than the first time.
The kitchen door swung open and the two boys parted immediately.
“Dinner’s ready!” Tina cried.
“Halloween is coming up,” Mason reported, scribbling off the last of his Latin homework. “And I’m not sure I know what I want to be this year.”
“I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since,” Balliol cocked his head and then said, “I can’t remember.”
“Not since I stopped trick or treating,” Tommy said. “But this year I’m going to visit Derrick and his friends.”
“The Jesus freaks?” Addison said.
Tommy eyed him, and then went on. “Instead of dressing up as terrible things that glorify the Devil, we’re going to dress up like heroes and biblical characters. Sara, Derrick’s girlfriend, is going as Faith.”
“Faith?” Balliol said.
“You know,” Tommy elaborated, “the virtue of Faith.”
“How do you dress up as Faith?” Mason wondered.
“I’m more interested in how you dress up as Fornication,” Addison said with a cackle. “No,” Addison told them, “Balliol, you have to come with Mason and me. Seth McKenna and Andy Rathko are going to have this totally kickass party.”
“Will you be glorifying the devil?” Balliol said in a serious voice.
“Certainly not,” Addison told him. “I think I’m going to go as a Christian.”
“Addison!” Tommy said in a wounded voice.
Addison shrugged lazily. “It’s the scariest thing I know.”