Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [36]
If Chad had apologized, I might have realized how much I was overreacting. But you don’t show weakness. Not at a football game with your friends.
“What’s the matter, pussy?” he taunted, unsure of how he’d been roped into this. “The truth hurt?”
I grabbed him by his nylon jacket so hard I heard fabric rip. “Take that back, you son of a bitch! I swear, I’ll fuck you up.”
Chad pulled away, and for a second we almost went at it. When Jack laid a hand on my shoulder, I nearly jumped him.
“Whoa, whoa there, guys,” said Jack with a forced laugh. “Let’s calm down. No harm, no foul.” Chad started to back off.
“He’s beggin’ for it!” I yelled, pointing at Chad.
“You want some of this?” he countered. His eyes darted toward one of his teammates, who shrugged. He didn’t know what the fight was about, either.
“Then let’s do it!” I started to pull off my jacket when Jack put his hand on my shoulder again. This time it wasn’t a friendly tap, but a restraining grab.
“Walk away, Logan.” He was not smiling. Tim had quietly joined us and was standing at my other side.
“But …”
Jack suddenly sounded quite serious. “Walk away.”
Jack didn’t release my shoulder until we were almost to the parking lot. Then I twisted free. I turned to my friends. Tim looked at me with concern.
“Uh, Logan, what the hell was that about?”
“You heard what he called me! I ought to go back there. …”
Jack frowned. “Jesus Christ, Logan, so what? I’ve called you worse than that. He was just talking.”
“So that’s the way it is?” I hollered back. “You’re taking his side?”
“No one said that. Would you calm down?”
“Fuck you. If you won’t stand up for me …” I waved my arm vaguely and stomped off.
When I arrived home, I was ready to punch something. But everything in the trailer was too cheap to stand up to any abuse. By the time I got to the backyard to kick the hell out of the burn barrel, my anger had subsided. I now lay curled up on the couch.
So some guy called me a faggot and I went nuts. You didn’t exactly have to be Freud to make sense of that. If I didn’t get myself under control, and fast, Sage’s secret would be the least of my problems. I had to remind myself that Sage made a very convincing girl, convincing enough to totally fool me. She was no taller than a lot of women, and that was really the only giveaway. How had she achieved that? How long had she been pretending to be female? Her parents must have allowed it, at least at home. Why on earth would a boy want to be a girl? I almost wished I was still talking to her so I could find out.
When someone knocked on the door, I knew who it had to be. Tim and Jack stood on the concrete slab that passed for our porch. They had looks of grim determination on their faces. Kind of like furniture repossessers: they had an unpleasant job to do, but they’d see it through nonetheless.
Jack was holding the football, twisting it in his hand. “Can we come in?”
That drove home how crazy things had gotten. They hadn’t asked permission to come into the trailer since elementary school.
“Yeah.”
We all sat down, and for a minute, there was nothing but silence. Jack stood up and began pacing like a small dog on a short chain.
“So who won?” I asked after a bit.
“The game kind of ended when you left. Logan, what the hell were you trying to prove?”
I attempted to smile. “Lost my temper. Sorry.”
Now, normally, that’s all a guy needed to say. Men don’t discuss their feelings. Sorry usually covered just about any mistake.
Jack and Tim didn’t smile. Tim sat in the recliner looking solemn. Jack tossed the football into the air until it almost kerbonged the ceiling fan.
“Logan,” he said, still looking up. “Your mom called me yesterday.”
“Very funny.” But no one was laughing.
“He’s serious,” said Tim. “She called me too.”
My eyes widened. “Why would she call you?”
For the first time in years, Jack stood motionless. “She wanted to know if you were on drugs.”
“What would she think that for? She knows I’m not into that shit.”
Jack and Tim exchanged glances. “That’s what we told her,” said Tim. “But she said