The next Monday, Jordan and his two friends were on their usual corner before the first bell. Little Willy rounded the corner with his head down and almost slipped by, but at the last second, Thrasher noticed the skinny junior and said, “Hey, Little Willy.” Thrasher flexed and winked. Logan spun towards his prey and grinned like a shark. Will hustled down the hall and out of sight.
“Damn,” Logan said, like he missed something he’d been waiting for.
Jordan was deeply uncomfortable. Had they always been this mean to Little Willy? Sure, Jordan had joined in on the nickname, but it’s not like he harassed the kid. At least not in the same way as Logan. Logan was kind of a jerk.
Logan turned back to the lockers. “That kid is such a fag,” he said.
Thrasher chuckled dumbly. He was paying more attention to the junior girls looking in his direction. Jordan didn’t respond to the slur and Logan noticed.
The shorter, skinnier jock squinted suspiciously. “Isn’t he pathetic?” Logan ventured.
“Who?” Jordan asked while watching Thrasher perform for the ladies.
“Little Willy.”
“Uh… yeah. Pathetic.”
They separated for home room and Jordan couldn’t help but feel ashamed of his behavior. Was Little Willy truly pathetic? Yes, it was weird how he scurried around the halls. But was it absolutely necessary to pick on him?
Maybe Ella had gotten under his skin. Or maybe now that he knew one of his former friends was gay, he didn’t want to use the f-word. Before he knew someone, it was kind of a generic insult. Like, oh, you’re gay. Or, don’t be gay. Or a simply yelled, gay! If you wanted to be tougher, you’d call your friend a faggot. Then he knew you were upset and not just irritated.
But it was different with Little Willy. The kid was clearly gay. Like, no one was going to be surprised when he finally grew the balls to come out. He spent so much time daydreaming at the hot guys in school.
Jordan smirked as he strutted into homeroom. Late, as usual. He gave the computer teacher a jock nod and got one in return. Then he folded his muscular body into a chair in the far corner and watched as the girls casually fixed their hair and tried to engage him in conversation.
Friday, the breakup had still been under wraps. Three days later and every girl in the school was ready to heal Jordan’s broken heart.
Yeah, he was one of the hot guys. For sure.
***
Lunch on Monday was the usual. Jordan got his meal and sat with his jock friends. Thrasher was by his side and Logan was across the table. Kaylee was on the other side of the cafeteria like usual, but she was in a new seat with her back to him. Ordinarily she sat so they could make eyes at each other from time to time.
Jordan wasn’t worried. She was just playing hard to get.
His eyes flicked over the crowd and he noticed an open seat at the geek’s table. Ben’s seat.
Suddenly, Jordan was on his feet and moving across the cafeteria. The cheerleaders eyed him like they wanted to put a knife in his chest. Kaylee half-turned her head, but didn’t quite look at him.
He dropped into the seat next to Ella. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she answered. She sat up straighter, but wasn’t otherwise upset by his appearance. The rest of the table plunged into silence. Half of the cafeteria had stopped talking as they watched the star football player sit amongst the band geeks.
“No Ben?”
She gave him a sad smile. “It happened this morning.”
“Oh God.” Jordan’s face fell. His hands were under the table and Ella found his.
Her voice was full of emotion when she spoke. “Funeral services will be Wednesday. Tell your family.”
“I will.” He sighed. “That was one cool dude.”
Her hand came out of his and wiped the tear from her cheek. “Yeah.”
They shared a smile as only old friends can do. When Jordan looked up, he saw Kaylee glaring at him like she was placing a curse upon his head.
He felt his cheeks turn hot under the attention, so he stood and returned to his friends. Thrasher didn’t comment, but Logan was suspiciously quiet and spent the rest of the period watching Jordan as if looking for clues.
***
Ben still wasn’t in school on Wednesday, the day of his grandfather’s funeral service. That morning, Jordan and his friends gathered on their usual corner near their lockers. Thrasher was once again attempting to show off for the junior hotties when Little Willy crossed their path.
Thrasher noticed the kid immediately and backed up as if on accident. When he hit Will, the jock kept pushing until the kid tumbled sideways and the books fell from his arms.
“Yo, Little Willy. Didn’t see you there.” Thrasher laughed and the girls hid their smiles behind their hands. Thrasher offered to help Will up, but at the last minute pulled his hand away and laughed even louder.
Logan was in the background, grinning at the viciousness of it.
Jordan was over it. For whatever reason, that morning it was just too much to see his friends bully a kid like this. The star football player knelt and helped Willy collect his things, who shyly accepted the help and neither looked at the jocks nor thanked Jordan before running to his homeroom.
Jordan was still squatting when Logan began mocking him. “Feeling sorry for the geek?” Logan knew better than to use gay slurs in school where teachers could overhear him.
“You should stop picking on the kid.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed, but otherwise he showed no outward sign of displeasure. Thrasher was wide-eyed, like he never thought of what it would be like to challenge Logan.
“What is he, your boyfriend?” Logan taunted. “You think he’s cute. You like the way he looks at you?” Logan drew Jordan to the side so he didn’t have to shout. “You want that skinny dude on his knees between your legs? That what you want, Jordan?”
Jordan blushed. “No. God, stop it.”
“Then what’s the big deal, tough guy?” Logan bumped into Jordan’s shoulder. “No homo?”
Jordan continued to blush. “You’re a dick,” he said, then he walked away without acknowledging the ‘no homo’ code.
“Somebody’s got a boyfriend,” Logan yelled at Jordan’s retreating back. Jordan discreetly flipped him the bird, then continued on his way to homeroom.
Jordan paused before passing his English teacher’s classroom. Little Willy was there, in the far corner. Dare Jordan talk to him?
Jordan’s blood was pounding like in the middle of a big game. Logan had challenged him and now he was going to lay down the law. He had the moral high ground. Logan and Thrasher shouldn’t bully Little Willy. It was a mystery why the kid took the abuse, but that didn’t make it right.
That righteous certainty fueled his courage as he stepped into the classroom. Mrs. Lautz looked like she was going to comment, but Jordan merely ducked his head in her direction, then strode purposefully to Will’s desk. The room was set up in three columns of one desk and two chairs. His math classrooms had chairs with attached, foldable tables, but not the English department.
Jordan always liked the classrooms with this setup because it meant more group work and socialization.
Little Willy had chosen the furthest, most isolated set of tables and had claimed them both for himself. Most of the other kids were grouped together in clumps.
Jordan sat in the open seat next to Will and waited to be acknowledged. At first the kid jumped, but when he saw who it was, he wilted and went back to the doodles in his notebook. There was a faint, unpleasant odor coming from his bag.
“You aren’t doing homework?” Jordan asked.
“I do it at home.”
“Then why don’t you talk to anyone in homeroom?”
“I don’t know them and don’t want to.”
Jordan chuckled despite himself, but this seemed to intimidate the kid. “Listen, Will.” He lowered his voice. “My friends shouldn’t bully you like that. I told ’em to stop. If they keep bothering you, go to the principal or something. You don’t need to take that shit.”
Will didn’t respond other than to hunch over his desk and scribble intently on his pad.
“Uh, good talk,” Jordan said. And when he got up, he patted Will’s shoulder. Then he left while giving Mrs. Lautz a nod in farewell.
“Did you do your reading for class, Mr. Carney?”
“You better believe it,” he lied. He grinned like they were both in on the joke. The other juniors in her homeroom watched him leave. He winked at them.
When he made it into the hallway, he paused and glanced back at Little Willy. None of the other kids could see into the hall, but Willy was right there, staring at him. The kid didn’t look away, and neither did Jordan. Will offered a weak half-smile.
Eventually, Jordan broke the spell and continued to his homeroom. He was tardy again, but Swinson didn’t care.
***
Later that night, after practice, Jordan was in line at the funeral for Ben’s grandpa. He was wearing his best suit with a charcoal gray shirt and a black tie. He’d originally picked out a gold tie, but before he left the house he took one last look in the mirror and the gold matched so perfectly with his hair that it seemed like he was trying too hard.
He didn’t want it to be a fashion show. He wanted to blend in, wait in line, and not cause a scene.
He waited in line a few feet in front of his parents because they were looking over the pictures and pointing out memorable places. They’d always been fond of Ben’s grandpa. Ben’s grandparents had been remarkably healthy for a long time while Jordan’s had always been sickly and unable to leave their home care.
Ben didn’t know how lucky he had it.
They made it to where the family was greeting people. Jordan hoped to shake hands in silence and give his respects to Ben’s grandpa, then get out of there without being noticed by anybody. But Ben’s mom saw him and she recognized him right away. It had been five or six years since they’d seen each other, but she opened her arms immediately and grabbed him in a hug and started crying.
“Jordan,” she whispered. She’d appeared composed when he saw her at a distance, but now it was as if she was about to break down. “Thank you for coming.” She grabbed his shoulders tighter. “He always liked you.” She relaxed, then tightened her hug again. “Thank you for coming.”
Then she backed away and Jordan felt ashamed by his speechlessness. Ben’s mom smiled, but Jordan couldn’t even manage that. Finally, he bobbed his head and moved down the line. When he got to Ben’s dad, the older man’s eyes welled with tears, but they didn’t fall. They clasped hands and Ben’s dad said, “Thanks for coming, Jordan.”
Jordan swallowed the lump in his throat, but still couldn’t speak. He mumbled something at his shoes and moved on to people he didn’t recognize. When he turned back, his parents were in conversation with Ben’s parents. Ben’s mom was holding it together again, though she seemed woozy. No tears. No sobs. Why had she cried on Jordan’s shoulder?
That shook him up; it really did.
Then he was in front of the open casket. Jordan always hated open caskets. Ever since his grandpa had died suddenly ten years ago and he had to wait in a line at this very funeral home. Hated it. Absolutely hated it. Jordan had decided that day that he would never have his service in this funeral home.
It was old and musty and not much had changed in the past decade.
Ben was nowhere to be seen, but Jordan had a hunch as to where he would be. When they were kids, Ben and Ella found Jordan down in the basement, hiding from the adults upstairs. Away from that fucking line.
Jordan made his way past the front entrance with the ramp for wheelchairs, then down the half a flight of stairs to the parking lot entrance. Then on the other side of the foyer and down another half flight of steps to the basement lounge.
And there he was. Ben. Sipping on something in a styrofoam cup and facing so he didn’t have to look at the stairs if he didn’t want to. Ben didn’t turn his head as Jordan shuffled into the room.
Jordan pulled out a chair and sat a few feet away without walking through Ben’s line of sight. It’s like the guy was a zombie staring at the wall. Jordan cleared his throat, not to get attention but because he still couldn’t speak.
“Hey Ben,” he said.
Ben didn’t respond.
“Thought you’d be here.” He coughed again. “Whatcha drinkin’?”
“Tea.”
No emotion. No camaraderie. Just an answer followed by stone-cold silence.
“Sorry about your grandpa.”
Ben let the awkward silence lengthen, then he turned his head without moving the rest of his body and said, “Thank you.” His eyes were puffy and wet and he looked exhausted. And handsome. Jordan couldn’t help but notice that Ben’s short curls had been trimmed, slicked back a bit, and that his clothes fit him better than the stuff he wore to school.
Jordan swallowed and looked away. “Do you need to go upstairs, or are you staying here?”
“Staying here,” he said simply. “I never liked it up there.”
“I know. Neither did I.”
“This place sucks,” he said forcefully. “I’m never going to be put on display in this old house.”
Jordan smiled. It was the same conversation they had years ago. “Me either,” he agreed.
“I know.” Ben smiled weakly. “I remember sitting here with you all night. Me and Ella.”
“Where is Ella?”
“She went home.” Ben waved his hand like he had shooed her away. “Thanks for finding me.”
Jordan’s phone dinged. It was a message from his parents. He replied, and then his parents asked where he and Ben were hiding.
“Do you want to see my parents?” Jordan asked.
“Sure.”
So Jordan told them where to find them and moments later they were coming down the stairs to the hidden lounge. Jordan’s mom was across the threshold and rushed towards Ben to give him a hug. Ben stood and let her do it. She murmured something to him and they hugged for an awkwardly long time.
Then, when she pulled away, Ben wiped the tears on his cheeks and gave Jordan’s dad a handshake. But that wasn’t good enough for Mr. Carney, who pulled the tall, skinny kid into a powerful man-hug.
“Look how tall you are,” Jordan’s dad remarked. “You take after your grandfather.”
Ben’s face melted like he wanted to cry, and maybe earlier in the day he would have, but he simply took the compliment and smiled blandly. His mom’s brothers had all been tall and they all took after the man who was lying in the open casket.
They talked for a few minutes, but it was like Ben had gotten wound up and couldn’t pick up a conversation anymore. Jordan took pity on him and asked for a few minutes alone with Ben. The implied rebuke affronted his parents, but they left.
“Sorry for bothering you,” Jordan whispered.
“Don’t be. Thank you for coming.” Ben wiped more tears from his cheeks. They stared at each other. “I mean it.”
Jordan gulped and moved away from the stairs so his parents couldn’t see them. Ben followed suit.
“See you in school,” Jordan said to fill the silence.
“Yeah.”
Jordan turned to leave, but then there was a hand on his bicep, forcing him to turn. Ben was coming forward, nervous and covered in tears. Jordan could hardly look at the emotion, so at first he was grateful when Ben reached for a hug because Jordan could no longer see the pain on his face. But then he didn’t let go.
They hugged long after what should have been appropriate. So long that Jordan could smell more than soap and deodorant, but also the stress sweat it was trying to cover. Ben hung on Jordan’s body as if for support, then he sobbed. It was silent at first, but then it was unmistakable.
“I miss him so much,” Ben sobbed through his tears.
Jordan did what came naturally. He made shushing sounds and rubbed Ben’s back. “I miss him too.”
Ben just cried harder. Jordan was silent and leaned into the hug. His mouth was right at Ben’s neck, which was awkward, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t very well break it off and embarrass the kid. Not when he was hurting like this.
Ben cried as he got his breathing under control. He took long, fragile breaths and then finally pushed away from Jordan.
Jordan had a lump in his throat too big to talk around. What to say? At the very least, it felt like he should make eye contact with Ben to show that he understood the pain… or something. In the moment, it felt important to connect with his former friend. Ben had to be spiraling into sadness and loneliness.
Ben kept his back to Jordan and didn’t acknowledge his presence. Jordan stared at his hunched shoulders and watched as they heaved with more silent sobs. Yes, it was embarrassing, but it was more important to express a human connection than to leave Ben like this.
The shoulder was there for the touching. What if Jordan reached out and closed the distance? Simply touching him would be a symbol of solidarity. It’d be like saying, you’re going to get through this. But then what did the hug say if not the same thing?
Jordan’s fingers twitched and the moment lengthened. If he did anything now, it wouldn’t be natural. What could he say? Nothing. So he said nothing and stood watching Ben’s back.
Then the moment passed and the urge to somehow return the hug or to rub some feeling into Ben’s shoulders seemed more awkward than it was worth.
Eventually, Jordan simply turned away and followed his parents up the stairs. Before Ben fell out of sight, Jordan turned around and looked at him one last time. He was still hunched and unmoving. Should Jordan direct him to the chair? Get him something to drink? There were refreshments all over the lounge.
Jordan swallowed the lump in his throat and turned his back.
They weren’t friends. Even if they had been friends, they wouldn’t comfort each other like that. They certainly had never been that kind of friend.
The memory of the hug lingered. There was something in the way Ben’s chin rested on Jordan’s shoulder and the smell of fear and stress. It just stuck with him as one of the saddest things he’d ever seen.
