“You have to—”
“SNAP THE FUCKING BALL!”
He snapped the ball and dropped back a few steps. I threw myself at him and he went down again, on his back this time. He groaned and then grew quiet. And still.
“Adam?” I grabbed his leg at the calf and shook it a little. “Adam? You okay?”
Nothing.
“Adam?” I crawled up him. “Shit. Adam!” I laid my hand on the side of his face and slapped it lightly. “Oh, please, God. Be okay. You can’t leave me. Adam?” Panic swallowed me up whole.
“I am never fucking doing that again,” he said abruptly.
When he opened his eyes, I was smiling. He smiled back.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I said, wiping my damp eyes with the heel of my hand.
“I may never walk again, but other than that, I’m good.” He closed his eyes. “This game is barbaric. No wonder you don’t like it.”
“It’s not so bad when you’re padded.”
He opened his eyes again and fingered the mesh practice jersey I wore. “Speaking of which ...”
“The equipment room was unlocked.”
“Hmph.”
I laughed a little and rolled over onto my back next to him. We didn’t talk for some time. But the silence felt good, easy, simple. On the field, away from all the trees, the sky seemed so much bigger, so much deeper. The moon was low in the sky. If I tipped my head back, the sky was blacker, the stars more numerous. I picked out the Big Dipper and followed along the handle to the North Star.
“Why a dragon?” I asked. I had run my fingers along the tattoo on his lower back many times but never thought to ask about it.
“That was random.”
“What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure it means anything. Dragons are mythical creatures—powerful, free, evolved.”
“Like you.”
He laughed. “I’m glad you think so.”
“When did you get it?”
“Not too long ago. Early November. It was my birthday present to myself. Remember that first day you sneaked a look at me over your shoulder in government class? That was the first time I thought you might actually play on my team. You gave me a reason to come out of the closet, Nate. And the tattoo, well, it was my way of taking control of my body. My way of saying I decide who I give it to. And I wanted to give it to you.”
“Do you want to give it to me now?”
He turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “You’re kinda scary all padded up like that,” he said, tugging at the pads around my hips.
“They’re removable, you know.”
“I know.” But he made no move to remove them. I felt the subtle shift before he even spoke again. “What happened tonight, Nate?”
I looked away from him and fixed my eyes on a cluster of stars. How could I tell him that my own father, a man who hadn’t even bothered to visit me once in those weeks after I got out of the hospital, had suddenly shown up at the door, implying that I was somehow responsible for my own assault?
I want to know what you were doing in that backyard with those boys.
I don’t want to find out in front of an entire courtroom full of people that my son’s a whore, the way I found out in front of all those people at the hospital that he’s a fag.
The humiliation, the hurt. I couldn’t repeat his words, not even to Adam. I wouldn’t have told Mom either, but I didn’t have to. She’d walked in on the tail end of it, her shock and anger distracting Dad just enough for me to escape. I ran—no car keys, no shoes. God, why hadn’t I let her get the door? What chance did I have in court if my own dad was so willing to believe the worst?
“The defense attorney is gonna try to make us look like perverts,” I said finally. I took a deep, unsteady breath. “He’s gonna try and convince the jurors that I wanted it.”
“He’s just doing his job, Nate. You’re not on trial here.”
“They’re going to ask about us. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know. I have to testify too.”
“What will you tell them?”
“The truth. I’m not ashamed of anything we do. ‘I will wear my heart upon my sleeve. For daws to peck at.’ ”
“Shakespeare?”
He smiled. “Othello.”
“Do you think the world is ready for the truth?”
“It’s not immoral to tell the truth, Nate. It doesn’t matter if the world is ready or not. Truth is truth.” He fingered the rubber bracelet on my wrist, the one he’d had made for me last fall as a reminder to stay true to myself. Stamped in the rainbow-colored band were the letters WWND?—What Would Nate Do? “You’re wearing it again,” he said.
“I want a tattoo.”
“A tattoo, huh? People are going to think I’m a bad influence on you.”
“Yeah, you’re so bad.”
Later, in the musty-smelling equipment room, which was really just a temporary building outside the field house, we made love. Afterward, he cleaned up my bloodied toes with some antiseptic wipes he found in a cabinet. “It’s just superficial,” I kept telling him.
Chapter 5
I knew that night had scared him. I looked at his text again.
Seatmate: u look sad. Me: Leaving boyfriend. No more seatmate.
LOL.
God, I loved him. I took a deep breath and fisted my hands around the phone, trying to quiet the trembling. I still needed him, but I was on my own now. There’d be no Adam to talk me off the cliff the next time I danced with self-destruction. The key was to stay off the cliff.
I cut the engine, and the temperature in the car immediately began to rise. In the front window of Ratliff Music, the Open sign glowed. My shift didn’t start for another hour and a half, but I had nowhere else to go. I tucked my phone in my pocket and went in.
“Hey,” Juliet said as she hooked a little plastic bag of guitar strings on a wall peg behind the counter. She flashed me a grin. It faded quickly. “Oh, Nate.” She dropped the rest of the bags into a box on the floor and hurried around the counter.
“He’ll be back,” she said, throwing her arms around me. More than anyone, Juliet knew what Adam’s leaving was doing to me. But I can’t say I welcomed the embrace. It gnawed at what little self-control I’d managed to amass on the drive over. Fortunately, it didn’t last long.
From the office doorway, Juliet’s dad cleared his throat, and she let go. I swiped at my eyes with the collar of my shirt, embarrassed, but Mr. Ratliff pretended not to notice.
“You’re early,” he said.
“Yeah. I dropped Adam at the airport and didn’t really have time to go home, so I just came on in.” I stepped behind the counter and retrieved the bags Juliet had dropped.
Mr. Ratliff slapped me on the back as he slipped past me to the scheduling book. “Great. I could really use a guitar sub today. Gary can’t make it in until noon, and he’s got a new student scheduled at eleven. Danial Qasimi. I was planning to cancel, but since you’re here ...” He looked up at me cautiously. “You up for it?”
I