A Gay Polyester High School Romance Read online

  “Now that’s better,” she said as she spread her arms open as if presenting her latest work of art.

  Mom looked at her, slightly irritated. “Now, Margie. He can’t go to school like that.” She gestured toward me with her hand.

  “Sis. It’s hip.” Margie grinned at Mom.

  “I don’t want my son looking like some kind of gigolo,” Mom said, setting her coffee cup down.

  “Oh come on, Mary, you’ve got a lady killer here.” She laughed and returned her complimentary stare to me.

  I watched Mom roll her eyes as I felt the cool air against my exposed skin.

  Clearing my throat, I looked at Aunt Margie. “Umm…Aunt Margie, I appreciate your trying to help, but…this,” I buttoned my shirt back up until only two buttons at the top remained unfastened, “will be fine.”

  “Suit yourself.” Her face soured as she whipped herself around and stomped back to the table.

  I looked at Mom as she rolled her eyes again, making me smile.

  After my usual breakfast of a bowl of Super Sugar Crisp cereal and a cup of black coffee, I threw on my jacket, grabbed my book bag from the kitchen counter, and walked over to Mom.

  Bending down, I put my arms around her, waiting for her usual kiss on the cheek.

  “Have a good day, honey. I love you.” She gave me a quick peck.

  “Love you too, Mom,” I replied.

  Just as I pulled away, I saw Aunt Margie open her arms. I hesitated for a moment, but thought it best not to hurt her feelings a second time. Reluctantly, I schlepped around the table and put my arms around her.

  “Bye, Aunt Margie.” I rolled my eyes as I placed my head on her shoulder.

  “Bye, baby. Have a good day.” She then whispered in my ear, “Your hair is as long as your Uncle Ed’s.” She pulled on a few strands. “Don’t let your parents make you cut it.” She flipped it with her fingers and smiled.

  “I won’t, Aunt Margie,” I whispered back to her as she gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

  Dad has hated my hair since I let it start growing out last year. It’s thick, black, and straight as a board. Parted in the middle, it hangs past just my shoulders and Dad can’t let a day go by without making a comment about it. There’s nothing my dad would like better than for me to go back to that 1950’s conservative haircut I had when I was twelve. That year for Halloween, I dressed up in one of my suits, slicked my hair down, and put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses just for his benefit. I remembered how Dad’s face lit up when he saw me. He was so enamored with the costume, he had Mom take a Polaroid photo of us together, and I earned his nickname for me: “Clark”, after Clark Kent. The photo now sits in a frame on his desk. He says it’s his favorite photo of us, and I suppose it’s my favorite too in a way. I don’t mean it to sound all sappy, but my dad is my like Superman to me.

  • • •

  Arriving at school, I came up behind a frustrated Brad, who struggled to pull his Social Studies book out of his messy locker.

  “Having problems?” I laughed at the disaster that was Brad’s locker. In all my fifteen years, I had never met anyone as unorganized as Brad; he was constantly losing things. Already he’d lost three combination locks he used on the school bicycle rack since the beginning of school, and his bedroom looked like the Tasmanian devil had taken up residence in his closet and came out each night to wreak havoc. I sometimes wondered how he ever found a pair of matching socks.

  Brad sighed and glanced back over his shoulder at me. “Stupid books.”

  “Why don’t you throw away those old notebooks?” I suggested as I unloaded my book bag.

  “Eh, I might need them for something.” He shrugged one shoulder and stumbled backward as the book came free.

  Brad never threw away anything. Some of the notebooks in his locker were well over two years old. He refused to discard even one notebook if it contained a single sheet of clean paper. I guess it had to do with the fact that his mother had taught him never to waste anything.

  He gave me a once-over. “Whoa, groovy threads.”

  “Is it too much?” I looked at him questioningly as I stood back and opened my arms and looked down at my clothes for the hundredth time since I had dressed that morning.

  “No, man. Not if you truly believe in flower power.” Brad made a peace sign and laughed.

  I gave him a dirty look before brushing a few pieces of lint from the front of my shirt. “I like the shirt. It’s not like I could get away with not wearing it this morning with Aunt Margie here.” I pulled on my shirttail and glanced down.

  “She and your Uncle Ed are still living in their own Purple Haze,” he joked.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Can you imagine how much action that old VW bus of theirs has seen?” he mused.

  “Ugh. Brad.” I scrunched my face. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  “I bet there’s not much shag left in the carpet in the back of that bus, if you know what I mean?” He winked.

  “Dude.” I frowned. “That’s disgusting.”

  “I still can’t believe your mom and your Aunt Margie are sisters. Talk about night and day.” Brad turned back to his locker, shoved the contents that had come loose with the book back inside and slammed the door.

  “I know, right? My mom’s side of the family is…well…different, but I suppose that makes up for how ordinary Dad’s side of the family is.” I exchanged my Science book for my Government book and closed my locker.

  “Right on, brother!” Brad laughed.

  I cringed slightly at Brad’s continued use of the latest slang.

  About that time, I heard laughing from farther down the hall. Our attention immediately focused on the group of sophomore girls, including Tabitha, that were eying us. I never understood why girls always liked to congregate to talk about guys. I don’t think they realized how unnerving it is to us. I smiled as Brad and I headed off to our respective classrooms.

  “We hanging out after school?” he asked.

  “Can’t. Got swim practice,” I said as we strolled by Tabitha and her bunch of gossips.

  “Hi, Shawn.” She giggled.

  “Hi, Tabitha.” I smiled back and kept walking.

  Although I was tempted just to go ahead and ask her to the Fall Dance, I certainly wasn’t going to do it with a whole gaggle of girls around.

  “I see.” Brad tripped over his untied shoelace breaking my stare from Tabitha.

  I cut my eyes to my left knowing he was waiting for my usual invitation to stay the weekend. It was rare for there to be a weekend we weren’t together at some point. Most of the time he stayed at my house, but on some rare occasions I would stay at his, which I usually tried to avoid. Two of his older stepsisters, Bella and Nancy, weren’t exactly pleasant to be around. Nancy, a senior, was obnoxious and rude, while Bella, who was a year older than Brad, had a reputation as a tramp; and for some unknown reason, she had, or rather once had, the hots for me. Last time I slept over, she tried to play footsie with me under the dinner table. I almost choked on a piece of chicken when she ran her bony toes up my leg. I tried gently pushing her leg away several times, but she refused to take the hint that I wasn’t interested. Finally, I kicked her in the shin hard enough that she got the message and that’s when her like turned to hate.

  Deciding it would be better to ask Brad to stay over rather than see Bella, I gave him what he wanted.

  “You want to spend the weekend at my house? Watch TV, maybe swim in the pool?”

  Brad brightened up as usual. “Sure, man.”

  No matter how many times I’d asked that question over the years, he always had the same reaction.

  “Cool.” I stopped to turn into my classroom as another student brushed my shoulder. “I’ll see ya later, man.”

  “Keep it groovy!” Brad laughed, making the peace sign while continuing down the hall.

  “You’re hilarious!” I yelled at him.

  Wednesday, October 17, 1973

/>   Dear Journal,

  No conflict with Mr. Rumsford in Government class today. He was too focused on the exciting topic of the Judicial Branch. He never once looked at me. That’s more than I can say for Tabitha. In English class, she kept staring at me like I was a David Cassidy pin-up. Occasionally Brad would glance at me, then at Tabitha, and back to me with a scowl on his face.

  At lunch, I kept asking him what his deal was, but he would repeatedly say “nothing.” I’ve known Brad too long and know when there’s something on his mind. I’m going to find out what it is tomorrow.

  ~ Shawn

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, I hopped off my bike and proceeded to roll it into the bike rack. About that time, Brad rode up. I could tell from the look on his face he wasn’t in a good mood. When I had invited him to my house for the weekend he seemed perfectly happy, now he looked as though he’d been sucking on a lemon.

  Admittedly, I wasn’t in the most cheerful mood myself. I had lain in bed the previous night trying to figure out what Brad was so upset about. I wondered if it had to do with Tabitha, but I wasn’t completely sure since he’d been acting all-around-odd lately, as if something had been bothering him for quite some time.

  I waited until he had dismounted before I jumped right into it.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I stood back as he pulled a new combination lock from his coat pocket.

  “There’s nothing going on.” He pulled the new combination sticker off the back of the lock and bent down to hook the lock through the loop of the chain that secured his bike.

  “Brad.” I frowned. “I’ve known you all your life and I know when there’s something going on with you.”

  “I just want to know one thing.” His gaze hovered to meet my own. “Do you like her?”

  “Who?” I shot back.

  “Charro!” he snipped. “Who do you think? Tabitha.”

  Although I usually appreciated his sense of humor, I was not in the mood for his smartass attitude.

  Trying to keep my anger at bay, I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts before answering his question. It was a given that I found Tabitha’s looks very appealing, but as far as personality...I really didn’t know her well enough to determine if I liked that part of her. From what I had observed though, she seemed very friendly. Obviously Brad didn’t feel the same way.

  “I don’t know, man.” I shrugged. “She’s pretty and she seems to like me.”

  I studied his face trying to figure out his angle with this line of questioning. If Brad didn’t approve of Tabitha, why didn’t he just tell me? I, of course, would have expected him to tell me the reasons he didn’t. It made no sense, seeing that Tabitha had never done anything to him to warrant such dislike.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Humph! I guess if I had someone like Tabitha who was into me, I’d be happy too, but apparently I have to depend on the help of others to get a date for anything.”

  I recoiled at his angry remark. It never occurred to me that Brad could be jealous that a girl was interested in me instead of him. It’s not like Brad never had girls interested in him; at the end of the last school year, Tiffany Boeckman from the drama club came up to him every day in the hallway just to chit-chat. It was pretty obvious she liked him, but Brad never showed any interest in her. When I’d ask him about her, he always replied with “Eh. She’s not my type”, which was his usual response to just about every girl I had ever suggested to him as a possible romantic interest.

  “Is this what this is about?” I asked, frustrated with his attitude. “Are you jealous that a girl likes me and not you?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Brad looked away and grabbed his book bag from his handlebars.

  “Dude. Come on. Don’t be jealous.” I tried to be sympathetic toward him. “Any girl would be lucky to have you as a date,” I replied, trying to build up his confidence, although I wasn’t sure my choice of words were the right ones.

  “I guess I’m too ugly to get girls like you do.” He stared back.

  “Come on, man. You’re a good-looking guy,” I replied, feeling puzzled as to why Brad suddenly felt so insecure about his looks when he had no reason to be. Brad was a very attractive guy.

  “You’re just saying that.” He shrugged his shoulders, refusing to look me in the eyes.

  “No, seriously, dude. You kinda look like one of the Williams Twins I saw the other day on the cover of one of those teen magazines in the drug store.” I tried to lighten the mood.

  With his golden blond hair, and blue eyes like mine, he could easily be a teen idol. He was definitely more buff than me. I was fit and toned like a swimmer, whereas Brad was built more like a football player. I still think he made a big mistake when he quit football when we entered high school last year. He was a star player back in junior high, and was quite popular back then. At the beginning of our freshman year, something changed and he withdrew from all the school activities. He would never tell me the reason, but I suspected it had something to do with the way his stepfather always treated him like shit.

  “Oh, I look like a teen idol, huh?” he asked, the corners of his mouth rising slightly.

  “Well, you’re definitely not as ‘wholesome’ as those teeny bopper Williams Twins.” I chuckled, seeing my plan was working.

  “What do you mean? Just because I have long hair, smoke reefer, and occasionally partake of alcoholic beverages doesn’t mean I’m not ‘wholesome’.” He chuckled back.

  I knew exactly how to play him.

  “Let’s put it this way: neither of us are Brady Bunch kids, that’s for damn sure.” I punched him on the shoulder playfully before we slung our book bags over our shoulders and started toward the building.

  Brad beamed and nodded his head.

  As we hit the steps leading to the building, I still felt something wasn’t right with him. His being jealous that a girl liked me over him didn’t fit with the Brad I knew. There was definitely more to it than he was letting on.

  • • •

  As soon as we entered the main hallway, I spotted Tabitha at my locker. For once she didn’t have her cackling hens around her. With her being alone and standing in front of my locker, I knew she was going to ask me to the dance. There could be no other reason; Tabitha was always surrounded by her friends. I cut my eyes to Brad, who stared at her without emotion.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” Brad said evenly as he focused his attention on the water fountain we just walked past.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. His sour expression returning again, ruining all the progress I had made in putting him in a better mood.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, man,” he replied as he sauntered off.

  Approaching her, I broke out my best smile, while she tapped her foot as if impatient for my arrival.

  “Hi, Tabitha.” I stopped a few feet from her. For some reason I felt my palms starting to sweat even though I had no reason to feel so nervous. After all, she was going to ask me, not the other way around where the fear of rejection would have been a real possibility.

  “Hi, Shawn,” she said cheerfully, hand on her hip, as I discretely wiped my palms on my jeans. “Do you want to go to the Fall Dance with me?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

  I studied her for a moment. She tapped her left foot a couple of times against the tile floor and her eyes wandered to the passing students as she waited on my answer. I got the feeling she wasn’t a very patient girl.

  “Um…yeah…um…I guess,” I returned shyly, unsure as to why I was feeling that way. I glanced at her purple blouse with the pink polka-dots; the attractive image of Marsha Brady popping in my head.

  “Groovy!” she said bubbly. “Pick me up at my house at six. You know where I live right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t be late,” she commanded making me wonder if she was about to shake her finger at me to get her point across.

  “Isn’t being fashionably late oka
y?” I joked and immediately felt like an idiot.

  “Not with me it isn’t,” she snapped.

  “Oh, sorry,” I cowed like a scolded puppy. “I won’t be late.”

  “Groovy, then.”

  “Groovy.” I replied, trying to ignore my thoughts that Tabitha might be a bit bossy.

  I shifted my eyes toward Brad, who was waiting impatiently by the water fountain, frowning. I looked back at Tabitha as she started to walk away.

  “So, do you think you might have a friend that would go with Brad?” I asked, hoping I was doing the right thing by attempting to fix my best friend up with one of her brood. She sized up Brad, wrinkling her nose a bit.

  “Eh.” She paused. “He’s kinda a fox. I suppose I could get Penny to go with him.”

  The thought of Penelope Crosley with her long brown hair, her thick-lensed glasses, and that hideous pink cardigan she wore even during the summer flashed through my mind. Brad definitely deserved better, but I supposed she would do for the one occasion.

  “Yeah, sure,” I replied hoping Brad wasn’t going to kill me for not running it past him first. “That would be great.”

  “Cool!” She tapped her pink saddle-shoes on the concrete floor, before turning and jotting away.

  Brad came up beside me. “So, I guess you’ve got a date for the dance now,” he said with an icy voice.

  “Yep.” I looked at his brooding eyes. “And so have you.”

  “What?” He gasped. “Who?”

  “Penelope Crosley,” I replied, hoping he wasn’t about to let loose on me with the fact that I had fixed him up with No-Personality Penny.

  “Poison Penny?” he said in a raised voice, making several students turn and look

  My gaze darted to the small group of cheerleaders loitering by the senior lockers. “Shh…not so loud. She’s a girl and you need a date.”