Omorphi (35 page)

Christy looked up at Michael again, awe in his eyes.

“Can my dad glue your chin now?”

Christy turned back to Mac. “Can I see this in the mirror?”

“Of course.” Mac withdrew a small, square mirror from his medical bag and handed it to Christy.

Christy frowned at his image. A bruise had begun to form on his chin, his lower lip had swollen and turned a phenomenal shade of plum, and the split in his chin was still oozing blood. A tremor passed through Christy’s entire frame when he saw the blood.

“You’re still gorgeous,” Michael whispered.

“Can you… can you stop the… the blood?”

“With the glue, yes,” Mac assured.

“Glue? On the skin?” Christy asked, surprised.

“Yes. They make glue for skin. It’s rather revolutionary, if you ask me. Are you ready to let me close that wound and cover it with a bandage?”

Christy nodded.

Mac worked quickly, and within minutes, Christy’s wound was glued and covered with a small butterfly bandage. “With a little luck, you’ll have no scar at all. Michael, now let me take care of you. Hop up over here.”

“Can you sit with Jake for a minute?”

Christy slid sideways off Michael’s lap and scooted backward so his back was against the wall.
Interesting. He doesn’t want me to see his back.
Michael rose from the cot and hopped up on the exam table.

“Michael, I’m going to go talk to my dad,” Jake said. “I want to make sure he has all the facts straight for the detective.”

“Okay. Cell me?”

“You got it. Thanks for the glue, Dr. S.” He leaned down and kissed Bobbie’s cheek. “You too, Mrs. S.”

Bobbie rose from the floor and sat on the cot next to Christy. “Ask your mother to call me, would you, Jake?”

“Sure thing. Christy, catch you after third period, public speaking?”

Christy nodded.

“You’re not planning to stay in school today, are you?” Bobbie asked, disbelieving.

Jake and Michael exchanged looks.

“Hold still.” Mac applied glue to Michael’s cheek.

“Ow. It’s important we face this head-on, Mom.”

“Haven’t you done that already?”

Michael saw the strain in her eyes and made his words gentle. “Mom, if we back down, it’ll only get worse. We’ll be okay.”

“I’m with Michael, Mrs. S. We can’t be gone for the rest of the day,” Jake agreed.

“Christy, are you up to staying in school?”

He thought about it for a long moment and finally nodded. “With the plan,” he rasped.

“We made a plan to walk Christy to and from his classes.” Only they hadn’t dropped him at the art bungalows this morning. Guilt filled Michael again. How could he have been so stupid?

“Mac, honey, do you think it’s wise?”

“I would rather have the boys in school than home alone and, for what it’s worth, I do agree that at the first implication of weakness, this will get worse.”

“You’ll be careful. All of you?”

“We will, Mom.”

“Guarantee it, Mrs. S.”

“Yes,” Christy croaked.

“Be still, Michael,” Mac admonished.

“Later, Jake.”

“Later, bro.”

Christy watched intently as Mac quickly closed Michael’s wound.

“All right, there you are.”

Michael touched his cheek. “Swollen.”

“Do you want a Kold Pak?”

“Naw, I’ll be fine.” He reached for his shirt and thought better of it. “I’m going to run to the car and get a couple of T-shirts for Christy and me.”

“Not alone,” Bobbie said quickly.

“No need,” Nero said as he returned with Rob. “Jacob provided these for you.” He handed them to Michael.

Rob collected Christy’s bloodied shirt from the floor. “Are you all right, Christy?”

Christy nodded.

“Jake said that you intend to stay in school today. Are you certain that’s a good idea?”

Christy nodded again. “I can do it.”

“I know you can do it. I only wonder if it’s the best thing for you.”

“I was able to push the five.”

“What do you mean, you pushed the five?” Rob looked to Michael for clarification.

“I preprogrammed a help message into the number five on his phone. Some smart guy told me a learning curve isn’t a perfect arc, so I thought I’d give him a tool to help him get out of a bad situation,” Michael explained, only half tongue in cheek.

“Perhaps he was more of a smartass.”

“Naw, I think he’s a pretty smart guy. We’ll be okay. Jake and I have a plan to take Christy from class to class.”

This seemed to mollify Rob.

“You know what you could do, though?”

“What?”

“Make sure Christy doesn’t have phys ed anymore. There’s no reason for him to dress when he can’t participate, and there could be trouble in the locker room. He could take another art class or have a library period instead.”

Nero looked to Rob, who turned to Christy. “What do you think, Christy?”

“The library.”

“Consider it done. Go to the library when you would normally have your phys ed,” Rob said.

“I’ll get you from there and take you to lunch,” Michael said as he shook the donated T-shirts out. “Christy, do you want Led Zeppelin or Bread? Jeez, how’d Jake end up with an ancient
Best of Bread
T-shirt?”

Bobbie sang softly, “If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can’t I paint you?”

Christy looked up at her. “You know this song?”

Bobbie laughed softly. “It was Anna’s and my favorite song in high school.”

Nero cleared his throat. “They played it until we were ill.”

Mac chuckled.

“Do you know it, Christy?” Bobbie asked.

Christy’s eyes became distant. “Someone sang this to me a very long time ago. I could never find who sang the song.”

“The next time you visit, we’ll put it on the iPod for you.”

“Nero, we’ll be going out that evening,” Mac said wryly.

Michael laughed. “I take it you’re down with the Bread shirt?”

“I can wear it?” Christy asked, clearly enamored of the idea.

“Yep. Come here.”

Christy scooted forward on the cot. “Please sing more of this.”

Bobbie sang, and Christy was utterly captivated. Michael guided Christy to his feet, turned him to face Bobbie while he gathered the shirt in his hands, and slipped it over Christy’s head. He pulled Christy’s hair from the collar before reaching for an arm and saw Christy’s back for what could only be described as one of the most revolting moments of his life.

Scars littered his back. Thin long scars, deep gouging scars, and jagged running scars as if someone had carved into him with a spoon. Michael closed his eyes.
This can’t be real.
He dared to open his eyes again. It was more than real. They were loud, they were cruel, they were hideous, and they spoke to the utter brutality that had been inflicted on Christy. He flexed in an effort to dispel imaginary pain as he imagined someone carving into his back. He fought to gather himself, to hold it together.
Not now. I’ve been strong through everything so far. Just deal. Don’t think about it. Just do it.

Michael reached for Christy’s hand and fed it through the shirtsleeve, then reached for the other hand and did the same. He pulled the shirt down, and it came to Christy’s knees. He folded the sleeves so they didn’t hang below Christy’s elbows as Bobbie finished the song.

“Thank you,” Christy croaked.

“Wait until you hear Anna and I sing it together.”

“Please, no,” Mac and Nero pled in tandem.

“It is a beautiful song. Thank you.”

Bobbie ruffled Christy’s thick ringlets and he cowered, and she gave no outward indication that she noticed.

A
LL
went as planned. Michael and Jake collected and deposited Christy between classes. Mr. Santini asked that their lockers be changed or cleaned before the end of the day and, by the time lunch came, the spray paint was gone. Rumors abounded, and Michael couldn’t care less. Christy was okay, and that was all that mattered. Short of a nasty comment or two, Jake’s anger hadn’t risen further. At one point, someone slapped the back of Michael’s head lightly in the hallway, and he rounded, preparing to throw a punch, only to find that it was Coach O’Malley teasing him. “Damn, Coach. I almost hit you.”

“Glad you didn’t but would have understood if you did. Stick with it, Michael. I’m proud of you.” He cuffed Michael’s shoulder. “Things will calm down.”

“Thanks, Coach. I hope so.” He rounded the corner to collect Christy from the library and was pleased to find him waiting in the doorway. “How are you holding up?”

Christy smiled, his smile not only reaching, but filling his beautiful eyes. “Okay,” he mouthed.

Michael ran a thumb gently over Christy’s chin, careful of the bandage. “You’ve been very brave today, babe.”

Christy beamed and stopped walking to scribble,
First time for me
.

Michael smiled. “Feel good?” Christy nodded, and Michael held back and didn’t hug him. They were at school. It wasn’t the time. He needed to be cautious and keep things low-key. “It’s only the beginning.”

Christy nodded enthusiastically.

“C’mon. Let’s find Jake.”

They caught up with Jake just outside the cafeteria doors. “Will you look at that? Those bastards,” Jake said as they entered the cafeteria. They reached their usual table to find it usurped by the football team, a few of their track mates interspersed among the guys. “What are you guys doing?” Michael blurted.

Gavin rose from his seat and shoved Michael in the chest. “You don’t belong here anymore,” he spat heartlessly.

Michael saw how it would be from now on and smacked Gavin’s hand away. “I think I do.”

“No.
You
. Don’t.”

The statement was particular to Michael, and it stung.

Jake pulled Michael back. “Gav, Michael just led us to another state championship. We owe him.”

Gavin sized Jake up. “You need to pick better friends, Jake. Queers aren’t good for business.”

Jake advanced, and it was Michael’s turn to hold him back. “Let it go, Jake.”

Jake shrugged Michael’s hand off his arm and turned to face the entire cafeteria. “What’s wrong with all of you? You’re being assholes! Michael won this school’s championship for you, and this is how you repay him?”

“Let it go,” Michael tried again.

Jake turned to him. “No, bro, I will
not
let it go!” He turned back to the cafeteria. “This guy just won the state championship for you for the fourth year in a row! Something none of you can do or have done! This is how you thank him? This is how you show your appreciation? Your respect? Like this? You try to humiliate him with orange spray paint because he’s gay? This is the best you can come up with? You’re friggin’ amateurs!” Jake yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Faggot!” someone yelled.

“You come up here and say that to my face!” Jake yelled back. No one came forward. “That’s what I thought, you spineless bastards!” Jake turned back to Gavin. “Move your ass over. You’re in my way.”

“We don’t sit with fags.”

“If that’s the case, get your fucking ass off this table!” Jake kicked a chair. “This is our table!”

“Not anymore, Jake.”

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over them. “Move over, Gavin.”

Everyone looked up. There stood Lisa, arms crossed over her massive chest, a look in her eyes that would have even the biggest of them running for his life. Gavin knew better than to mess with her. “It’s cool, I’m cool,” Gavin said quickly.

“Move over.”

“Yeah, okay. Pull up some more chairs,” he said to no one in particular.

A couple of the football players left the table, and Lisa shot Gavin another nasty glare.

“I’m cool. We’re cool, right guys?”

A few grumbles and “yeahs” came from the table. Gavin moved two seats down and pushed the chairs with his foot toward Jake. “Need two more chairs here!”

A couple of the guys moved over, and two more chairs appeared.

Jake grabbed a seat, and Lisa followed. Michael guided Christy to the chairs between them and sat next to him.

“We’re done here! Get back to business!” Jake shouted.

The cafeteria went back to business as usual.

Michael whispered to Jake, “That was close. Thanks, man.”

Jake grinned at Gavin and reached across the table to bump fists with him. “Excellent show, dude.”

Michael rolled his eyes as understanding filled him. “You planned this?”

“Lisa did.”

Lisa sat there, solemn, arms still crossed over her chest.

Gavin leaned in. “We’re cousins.”

Michael gaped at him. “Serious?” He turned to Lisa, and she nodded once. Christy rose from his seat and kissed her cheek. She smiled, more a wolfish grimace, and blushed. Lisa Abrams actually blushed.

“Thank you,” Christy growled softly.

She nodded again and cuffed Christy’s shoulder. The gesture, intended to be friendly, nearly knocked Christy off his feet. Michael caught and steadied him into his seat.

So it went for the remainder of the day. When a couple of people tried to hassle Christy in calculus after lunch, Gavin was there towering over them. Who knew Gavin was smart enough to take calculus? When a girl tried to spit on Christy in American History, Lisa took her by the hair and told her to apologize or lick it up.

“S-s-sorry,” she said quickly, her hands to her hair.

“Now say it like you mean it. Something along the lines of, ‘I apologize, Christy. I’m a mean-spirited, homophobic twat, and I displayed childish, idiotic behavior, and I swear I’ll never do it again.’” She repeated the sentence word for word.

At the end of the day, Michael collected Christy and headed to the locker room. “I want to rally the guys for practice real quick. Then we can go check out the self-defense class.”

Christy’s face clouded over.

“All we have to do is look. We don’t have to join in.”

Christy reluctantly mouthed, “Okay.”

Michael slapped high fives and offered encouraging words, ending his minirally with “And I want to thank all of you for accepting me and Christy. It means a lot to us.”