“Yup.”
“You’re my second too,” William said, taking his hand. “Kelly was my first everything, so when you and I were together the other night—”
“It felt weird because it was different,” Jason said, understanding. “But not weird in a bad way, I hope.”
“No! Just different. Exciting too, like it was the first time all over again.”
William kept hold of his hand, dragging him out to the courtyard where a number of sculptures waited with infinite patience. One made of wood was shaped like a giant walnut. A handful were metal two-dimensional silhouettes of people. They paused before a more traditional stone sculpture, this one a man with the legs and horns of a goat.
“Think that’s supposed to be the devil?” William asked.
“Pan,” Jason said, reading from the plaque. “He’s a satyr, isn’t he?”
“A god too, I think,” William said, stepping closer. He stared at the statue with rapt fascination. “Do you think I can touch it?”
Jason glanced around. Staff members weren’t on patrol here, and no ropes surrounded anything. The cobblestones went right up to each sculpture, the sky darkening above them.
“Go for it,” he said.
William ran his hand along one of the furry legs, reached up to let his fingers fondle the wild beard, the pointed ears, the goat horns. Jason watched him do all of this, marveling that the same attention had been paid to him a few nights before. He was lucky. Once again he had shown up too late, the person he desired already belonging to another, but William’s heart hadn’t been claimed. Not completely. Maybe it still hadn’t been. Jason intended to do everything in his power to change that.
“So cool,” William was saying. “It’s like actually meeting a god and being able to feel him.” He laughed at his own comment before becoming thoughtful again. “Think I’d look good with a beard?”
“One like that?” Jason asked. “Maybe when you’re older. Besides, it would get waterlogged and slow you down when you swim.”
“Good point,” William conceded.
Next they went upstairs where the art was more modern. This got conversation going as they made fun of works that seemed too simple and plain, and debated which pieces were actually worthy of praise.
“Hey, check this one out!” Jason said, waving William over.
The painting was of two figures, unmistakably male, despite being shaped with basic geometry. The figures were twisted around each other in a way both affectionate and impossible. This was interesting enough, but what really caught Jason’s eye was the familiar play of light and color.
“
All Twisted Up
,” William said, reading the sign next to the painting. “Local artist Tim Wyman. Hey, that’s your foster dad, isn’t it?”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, but I don’t actually call him that. They’re more like friends. Well, the sort of friends you call family, if that makes sense.”
“Totally. You mentioned he paints, but I didn’t know he was into abstract. Now I feel bad for making fun of the others.”
“He doesn’t always paint like this,” Jason said. “In our attic there’s one of a really hot guy, and it’s practically like seeing a photo. The few hanging in the house are more realistic too. Maybe he likes to play around with style occasionally.” He peered closer at the painting. “I wonder if this is supposed to be him and Ben?”
“I don’t know,” William said, “but they seem like a cool couple. I wouldn’t mind hanging out with them some time.”
“Like a double date?” Jason chuckled at the idea. “Yeah, why not?”
One corner of the museum got really weird, with art that didn’t involve painting or drawing. Here packs of gum were glued together to form a mouth full of teeth. On the floor in one corner, a pile of action figures had all been painted army green. Jason’s favorite was a high school letter jacket. Aside from being torn, burned, and marred with tire tracks, the jacket was also splattered with what he hoped was fake blood.
“I love it,” he said. “I think it represents the hell that high school puts us through.”
“Or maybe it’s what the artist fantasized about doing to the popular kids,” William said. “Either way, three more weeks and school is finally over for me. Did you feel relieved when you graduated?”
“Sort of. I actually dropped out when I was sixteen.”
“Oh. Seriously?”
Jason bit his lip. “Yeah. I had given up on foster homes and was eager to start my own life, get a job, all that stuff. I have my GED.”
William was quiet for a moment. “So what are you going to do?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Jason said. “Until now, I couldn’t afford to do anything but work. Ben keeps talking about me going to college, but I’m not crazy about the idea. He and Tim would be paying for it, which feels wrong. I don’t know what I’d study anyway.”
“Well, what makes you happy?”
“You,” Jason said, laughing nervously. “I don’t know. Horror movies, but I’m not interested in acting or anything like that. Movies are just an escape for me and nothing else. I like animals a lot. That’s what prompted me to get a job at the pet store, but I don’t see that going anywhere.”
“You could be a vet,” William said. “I assume you like animals enough to want to help them. And if you like horror movies so much, you probably wouldn’t get squeamish over a little blood or whatever.”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “I’ve never really thought of it, but that could be cool. Would I get to call myself doctor?”
“Doctor Grant,” William said. “Sounds hot. You should think about it.”
“Maybe I will,” Jason said. “So what about you?”
“Undecided,” William said as they strolled farther into the gallery. “It’s possible to make a career of the Coast Guard, but I’m not sure I want to. I guess I could be a lifeguard. Or I could teach swimming, this time to people who actually need lessons.”
Jason grinned shamelessly. “Hey, my little ruse got me this far.”
“That it did.” William stopped as if something had suddenly occurred to him. “If you dropped out of high school, then you must have missed out on some big things.”
“Like what?” Jason said. “Running up on stage to get my diploma?”
“That,” William said, “and prom.”
Jason laughed. “I never cared about some stupid dance.”
“Oh.”
He glanced over to find William looking pensive. “Wait, is that something important to you?”
William shrugged. “It’s romantic, isn’t it?”
“For straight people maybe,” Jason said.
“There’s no rule saying we couldn’t go.”
“You and me?”
William nodded. “Yeah. So I guess I’m asking you. Wanna be my date to the prom?”
When Jason considered it, he was surprised to discover just how much he did want that. He grinned broadly, and instead of answering with words, he pulled William close and nuzzled his nose.
* * * * *
When they returned to the parking lot, the minivan was still there but the old pickup truck had gone. This was good, since it allowed William to enter the car through the passenger-side door. Strange, then, that he was still standing outside while Jason waited behind the wheel. He rolled down the window and leaned over.
“What’s up?”
“Uh…” William replied.
Jason’s blood ran cold. He was out of the car and standing next to William in one second flat, staring down in horror at an angry scratch across the door. It wasn’t just a simple thin line, but a fan-shaped section where the paint had been scraped away.
“That’s not good,” William said.
“He’s going to kill me!” Jason moaned. “Seriously, you have no idea! If Tim had to choose between this car and Ben …” He shook his head, the contest too close to call.
“Okay,” William said, rubbing his chin and maybe wishing he had Pan’s beard. “All right. No need to panic. This happened to my brother’s car once, and he got a little vial of paint from an auto store.”
“Did it work?” Jason asked.
William shrugged. “I was little and wasn’t paying much attention. I only remember because later I used it to paint my nails.”
Jason stared. “You painted your nails? With car paint?”
“I was little! Anyway, I don’t think the body is dented. All it needs is a little cosmetic repair. We can get some paint now and fix it up. By the time we’re back from eating, it’ll be like it never happened.”
What alternative did they have? They drove to an auto supply store, and Jason could see why little William had mistaken the paint for nail polish. The vials weren’t so different, each having an applicator built into the lid. The labels listed the color and auto manufacturer. Since the store didn’t carry any paint for Bentleys, they settled on one made for Hondas they felt was close.
In the parking lot, they painted over the scratch, squabbling like they’d already been together for decades.
“Stroke in one direction only,” William insisted. “This isn’t finger paint!”
“I’m trying to blend it in!” Jason insisted. “It doesn’t match around the edges.”
“That’s because it’s still wet. It’ll get lighter. Or darker. I don’t remember which.”
“Maybe we should have sanded it down first,” Jason fretted.
“Nah, the paint was already scraped off. Sanding would only make it worse.”
After ten minutes of work and twice as long spent arguing about the best way to go about this, they stood back and considered their work.
“Shit,” Jason said, shoulders slumping.
The damaged spot looked like it had been hit by a water balloon full of paint.
“It’ll be fine,” William said. “It just has to sink in. That’s all.”
“Sink in?” Jason demanded. “Paint doesn’t sink in. At least not on metal!”
“It might,” William said, still optimistic. “Give it time.”
Jason shook his head and groaned. “Okay. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Unfortunately, when they were finished, the hasty repair job appeared even worse. The paint was too glossy, and they had used too much, the once-flush surface now bulging outward.
“You’re dead,” William said. “I’m sorry, but I’m glad we were able to share this final evening together.”
Jason glared at him. “You’re coming home with me to share my fate.” Then he perked up. “You’re pretty big. Think you can take Tim in a fight?”
William shook his head. “My muscles are only for show. Sorry. Should we head back? Face the music?”
Jason nodded reluctantly. The drive home felt like a death march. Tim could be cool, but he wasn’t as laid-back as Ben. At the very least, Jason wouldn’t be allowed to borrow either car again. At worst, they might ask him to move out. Jason was reminded of all the stunts he had pulled, how he had done exactly this sort of thing on purpose to get kicked out of foster homes before. Maybe this was karma. This time he didn’t want to leave, and he honestly hadn’t meant to do what he’d done.
Jason parked the car in the garage, happy that Tim wasn’t already there with a magnifying glass. His relief was short-lived. They had just reached the front door when it swung open.
“How was your date?” Tim asked, but he was already looking over their shoulders at the garage.
“There was a slight problem with the car,” Jason said carefully.
“But don’t worry,” William said, sounding chipper. “We fixed it!”
“Fixed it?” Tim asked. “You mean like a fan belt or…”
“Nothing so serious,” Jason said. “Just a little cosmetic damage.”
Tim groaned, making a face like he was in physical pain. Then he pushed past them, rushing to the garage. They followed behind, exchanging worried glances. Once in the garage, Tim circled his car, spotting their handiwork immediately.
“What is this?” he cried.
“It wasn’t Jason’s fault,” William said. “We parked the car at the museum, and when we came back out, it was all scratched up.”
“And you decided to fix it with what?” Tim asked, gesturing at the door. “A paintball gun?”
“Professional grade auto paint,” Jason mumbled. “Listen, I’ll pay to get it fixed.”
Tim’s face managed to get even more incredulous. “Just how much money do you have?”
“Not a lot,” Jason said, “but last time I checked my savings, it was—”
“The question was rhetorical.”
“Sorry,” Jason said. “I understand if you want me to leave.”
Tim’s features scrunched up. “Leave? Like move out?”
“Yeah.”
Tim snorted. “All you did was scratch my car. It’s not like you ran over my dog. Did you?” He bent over to check the tires at about the same time Ben showed up.
“What’s going on here?”
“See for yourself!” Tim said, pointing at the mound of silver paint.
Ben’s hand shot up to his mouth, but not in shock. Instead he was trying to disguise his laughter.
“Oh, it’s
real
funny,” Tim said, grinning a little himself. “What if this had happened to your car instead?”
“My car is a piece of junk,” Ben said. “Painting any part of it would be an improvement.”
“What are we going to do?” Tim asked, shaking his head. “Can we ground him? Is that within our rights?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Ben said. “You love me, right?”
“Yeah,” Tim admitted.
“And I’m not perfect, am I?”
Tim hesitated. “This is one of those trick questions, isn’t it?”
Ben tapped a foot expectantly.
“You’re perfect to me?” Tim tried.
Ben looked surprised. “Hey, that’s the right answer!”
“I’m learning.” Tim jerked a head in Jason’s direction. “He thought we were going to kick him out.”
“Or at least be angry,” Jason said sheepishly.
“Nah,” Tim said. “It’s not like it’s your fault. Unless you parked too close to the other car.”
“He parked totally fine,” William said quickly.
“There you go,” Tim said. “If you’d been driving recklessly or something, I’d have you in a headlock right now. I gotta say though, being a professional myself, that you suck at painting.”
“I’ll stick to music,” Jason said, finally allowing himself to relax.
Ben took Tim by the arm and started tugging him away. “Let them have their night together.”
“Fine,” Tim said. “Sympathy nookie?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Maybe.”
“They’re so cool,” William said once they’d headed toward the house. “Hey, can I ask them?”