Changing Jamie Page 7

  “We’re the ones who found you, you jerk! If it wasn’t for Dylan driving me out there, calling 911, you’d be dead!”

  “How did you know where to find me?” I should have caught the tightness in Billy’s voice, the suspicion, but I didn’t. I was too angry.

  “Dylan drove me to Home Depot and we had a talk with Robbie.”

  “You talked to Robbie? Oh, my God! Did he ask about me? Did he say anything? If you pissed him off, Jamie, I swear to God I’ll kill you!”

  I wasn’t worried Billy would hurt me. In his condition he couldn’t kill anything but time, but that wasn’t the point. How could he be angry with me? I was the one who’d saved his sorry ass. Robbie had been the one who’d put him in that mangy motel room to begin with and left him there half-dead!

  “No, he didn’t ask about you. As a matter of fact, at first he denied knowing you at all! What kind of a guy does that, Billy? What do you see in him?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “Look, I really like him, okay?” Billy said, looking away. “Okay, okay. I lied to you. I told you that Saturday night was my first date with him, but that wasn’t true. I’d gone out with him before then.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you’d find a way to stop me, that’s why! After Saturday, I was hoping it would be too late, so I figured I could tell you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean ‘too late?’ Too late for what?”

  “He’s positive, Jamie.”

  “Positive about what?”

  Billy sighed, rolling his eyes as if I were dense. “Positive, Jamie. He’s seropositive.”

  It took me a moment to understand, to wrap my mind around the word. Then I felt all the blood rush from my head to my feet. For a minute, I thought I was going to either pass out or throw up. “He’s got HIV?”

  Billy swatted at me as if I were an annoying mosquito. “Shut up!” he hissed. “Do you want the whole world to hear you? Yeah, he’s positive, and with a little bit of luck, now I’m positive too.”

  “Oh, my God! You’re nuts! What were you smoking at that party, Billy? Do you even hear yourself?”

  “I didn’t think you’d understand! I love him, Jamie. I want to be with him. I don’t want to worry about getting it.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “No, I’m not!” Billy struggled to sit up. His face was screwed up into an angry mask. This wasn’t the Billy I knew: this was somebody else wearing Billy’s skin. “He’ll accept me if I’m positive too. He’ll want to be with me. Look, we’re gay. We’re going to get it eventually, and it’s not a big deal anymore, anyway. There are drugs for it now. He—”

  “I can’t listen to this shit anymore,” I said, backing up a step. “How did he manage to screw your head up this badly? I may not have the experience you have with guys, but I’ve done my homework, Billy. Becoming infected with HIV isn’t inevitable. It’s preventable, for God’s sake! How could you be so stupid?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t understand! Get out! Leave me alone!”

  “Billy, did you tell the doctors—”

  “Get out!” he roared. His voice was like a slap in the face. I felt stunned and hurt and, more than anything else, confused. I backed away, refusing to turn my back on him, as if he were a rabid dog that might attack me from behind if I did.

  This wasn’t possible! What he’d said didn’t make any sense. HIV was preventable. Why the hell would he want to catch something that could kill him? Maybe the doctors had him drugged up. Yeah, that must be it. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He wasn’t rational. It was all some crazy dream. I had to believe that, because if he was serious about what he was saying, Billy had just admitted to me that he was looking to commit slow suicide.

  The thought scared me more than anything else had in my entire life.

  Chapter Ten

  I WALKED out of Billy’s room in a daze, wandering down the hallway. I didn’t know where I was going, didn’t really see anything except the confused images flickering in my head. HIV. The letters kept flashing in my mind’s eye in blood-red neon letters. I didn’t know anyone who was positive. Hell, I hardly knew anyone who was gay, except for me and Billy, but I damn well knew what AIDS was, and I knew HIV could progress into it. I’d listened in health class, and I’d read all the pamphlets in the library at school. I knew HIV weakened your immune system, leaving you open to all kinds of medical problems. I knew AIDS was a horrible, ugly disease. I also knew it was preventable.

  Now I also knew Billy was purposely trying to become infected, and Robbie-the-A-hole might have done the deed. That bastard! Who intentionally tries to pass HIV to other guys? What kind of nutcase does that?

  The kind who doesn’t care, that’s who; the kind without a conscience, who denies they even know the guy afterward. That kind. I felt such a violent rage sweep over me that I began to tremble. I wanted to go back into Billy’s room and shake him until he saw reason. I wanted to go back to Home Depot and do Robbie some serious damage. I wanted to go to Billy’s house and beat his parents black and blue for not caring enough about their son.

  Most of all, I wanted to cry because I knew I couldn’t do any of the things I wanted to do.

  “Jamie?” Dylan caught up with me, curbing his stride to accommodate my shorter legs. “What’s wrong? What happened in there? I heard you guys yelling from all the way down the hall.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop.

  “I need to get out of here, Dylan. Now, right now. Please!”

  “Sure, sure. Come on. Let’s go,” Dylan said. Thankfully, he didn’t press me then and there, or I would have totally lost it. I was only hanging on by a thin thread. One wrong move and I was going to snap.

  Even once we were in the car and moving, I still didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. I just sat there, numb, staring out of the window, watching the scenery rush by. I don’t remember anything I saw, just a blur of green and brown.

  The next thing I knew Dylan was pulling into a parking spot in the tiny lot at the neighborhood park. “Come on,” he said. “The fresh air will do you good.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t want fresh air. I didn’t want to walk, talk, or do anything but sit and simmer in my own misery. Dylan insisted, opening my door, unbuckling my seatbelt and pulling me out by the elbow.

  A jogging path wrapped around the lake in the middle of the park. It wasn’t big, maybe a half-mile around, but it was smooth and, more importantly, deserted. I started to walk, then jog, with Dylan keeping pace next to me.

  I ran faster, then faster yet, until I was at an all-out run, my feet pounding the ground, arms pumping. Dylan stayed right alongside me, although I knew he was a stronger runner than I was and could have outdistanced me without too much trouble. I barely noticed him. I wasn’t running for exercise or practice. I was running away—away from Billy, away from the specters of HIV and AIDS, away from Doug, my mom… everyone and everything. Most of all, I was trying to run from the pain and confusion tearing me up inside.

  I felt betrayed. Billy was my friend, my closest friend, in fact. Why was he trying to die on me? Didn’t he care about me?

  It was selfish, and I knew it. I wasn’t thinking as much about what was going on in Billy’s head as I was about how his actions affected me. How it made me feel.

  Then I felt guilty, which just made everything worse.

  AFTER TWO-AND-A-HALF trips around the lake, I ran out of steam. I still kept going, sides aching, gasping for breath, muscles screaming, until finally I couldn’t take another step and fell to my knees on the grass. I bent over, my head nearly touching the ground, pain cramping both of my calves and a stitch blazing in my side that made it difficult for me to breathe. I felt nauseated and would have puked had there been anything in my stomach. I was surprised I didn’t start to dry heave.

  “Easy, Jamie,” Dylan said. He was kneeling down next to me, breathing hard too. One w
arm hand rested on my back. “Breathe. Slow and easy.”

  It took a few minutes, but eventually the cramps disappeared. Dylan helped me up and steered me to a nearby bench. We sat side by side for a while, until my heart stopped hammering against my sternum and my breathing returned to normal.

  “Billy is trying to get infected with HIV,” I said, staring out at the mirror-like surface of the lake. The only thing that broke the water was a duck, gliding effortlessly toward the far side, barely kicking up a wake.

  “What? That’s crazy! It has to be a mistake. Maybe you misunderstood—”

  “I didn’t,” I said firmly. “He was crystal clear about it.” I felt my muscles tighten all over again, felt the same anger I’d felt before roiling in my gut. “He thinks he loves Robbie. Robbie is positive, and Billy has this nutso idea that, if he were positive too, Robbie would want him.”

  “Jesus!”

  “Yeah.”

  That’s when I lost it. I think saying it out loud made it more real somehow. The waterworks started and I couldn’t stop them. I pounded my fist against my thigh, keeping my face turned away from Dylan, not wanting him to see me cry, trying hard not to break down into hysterical sobs.

  Dylan’s hand covered mine, forcing me to stop hitting myself. His hand felt warm and strong, and remained on mine even after I brought myself back under control with a deep, jagged breath. His fingers slipped through mine, and I suddenly realized he wasn’t just keeping me from hurting myself—he was holding my hand.

  It startled me enough to turn and look at him. He was staring across the lake, eyes fixed on some point in the distance, but he must have known I was looking at him because his cheeks reddened and he bit his lip.

  “Dylan?” I managed to croak, my voice brittle.

  “Just give me a minute, okay?” he asked, not looking in my direction. We sat that way for a long while, him holding my hand, and me wondering what the heck was going on. It did do one thing for me: it took my mind off Billy for the time being.

  “Jamie? I lied to you,” he said softly. “Maybe now isn’t the greatest time, but I need to come clean. I can’t do this anymore.”

  I was clueless. All I knew was that he was holding my hand, really holding it, and I didn’t want him to stop. I heard him say he’d lied, but I didn’t care about what. Don’t let go, Dylan, I thought, trying to reach him telepathically, to force his hand to remain in mine through sheer willpower alone.

  “You were right. I blew that English test on purpose. Don’t get me wrong: English isn’t my best subject, but it’s not my worst either. My dad and the coach give me plenty of time to study. I lied about that too.

  “The day before we took the test, I saw Grayle putting together the list of tutors and students. I told him I felt I needed extra help and asked to be assigned to you. I told Grayle that since we were both on the team, it would be easiest for us to hook up and study. Then I blew the test so you wouldn’t be suspicious. I even sort of waved it at you when I picked it up from the desk so you’d see the grade.”

  “What? Why?” That startled me right out of the funk I’d been in. He’d arranged for me to tutor him? What was he trying to tell me?

  “This is why,” Dylan said softly, lifting our linked hands. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “You’re gay?” I gasped, feeling my eyes bug out of my head like a cartoon character. I really didn’t know how many more shocks I could take in one day.

  “I don’t know.” I could hear the misery in his voice. He still wouldn’t look at me, and now I knew why. Confessions were hard to make and still keep eye contact. “I kept trying to be like the other guys. I dated girls, but I never found one that did it for me, you know? The guys think I’m this big player, but the truth is that I just never found a girl I wanted to keep seeing. Then I noticed you one day last year in the cafeteria, when you and Billy started hanging out.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. You did it for me, Jamie. Man, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know what to say. I ignored it, told myself it was nuts, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop watching you. Finally, I realized it was because I didn’t want to stop. Look, Jamie, I can’t… I mean, nobody knows….”

  “So, you’re not out. Me either. You and Billy are the only ones I’ve told.”

  “Do you think I’m gay?”

  “I don’t know. Jeez, do I look like a Magic 8 Ball with all the answers? Only you can decide that, Dylan. Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. It’s only a word, dude. The only thing that matters is that you be yourself and do what makes you happy.” Wow. I actually sounded mature and worldly. In truth, I was only telling him what I’d found out for myself not too long ago.

  “Being with you makes me happy. I’ve been happier this weekend than I’ve been in a long, long time,” he said. He finally turned and looked at me, his sparkling turquoise eyes serious and a little frightened. “Do you like me, Jamie?”

  “Truthfully?” I asked, waiting for his nod. Today was a day for confessions, it seemed. I might as well join the parade. “I’ve had a crush on you for years, since we were freshmen. I just decided this weekend that we could be friends; that I could stop obsessing over you and move on.”

  “Oh.” He sounded so sad, as if I’d just thrown up a hurdle too high for him to jump.

  “Dylan, what I’m saying is that before, I just liked the way you looked in your running shorts. I didn’t know you. Now, I’m starting to know you and I like you a lot. If you were straight, then we could be friends, but now… maybe we could try being more than friends,” I said, trying to explain, and hoping I wasn’t screwing it up too badly. “If you want to, I mean.”

  We fell silent, staring out at the water. I needed this, I decided, needed Dylan, and to enjoy the feeling of his hand in mine. I wanted to savor the moment, just in case he said no.

  He didn’t, but when he spoke again it was in a whisper almost too low for me to hear.

  “I’ve never kissed a guy before, Jamie.”

  “Yeah? Me neither.” It was true. We lived in a very small town. The only gay friend I had was Billy. I’d never gone with him to a club because I was too chicken to try to use the fake ID he’d made for me, so my experience was limited to none.

  “I really want to kiss you.”

  How many times in my dreams had Dylan said that to me? In my dreams, I always had the right answer. I was sexy and seductive and sophisticated. In my dreams, I always knew what I was doing. I’d cup his cheeks with my hands and pull him to me, planting one on him that would curl his toes.

  Now that he’d actually said it, all I could manage was “Oh. Sure,” as if he’d just asked to run a lap with me or discuss Hamlet, instead of fulfilling a fantasy I’d had for years.

  Dylan had plenty of experience in the kissing department, even if it had never been with a guy before. He let go of my hand—okay with me, since I knew that what was coming had to be infinitely better than hand-holding—and slipped his arm around my shoulders.

  His other hand touched my cheek, gently, lightly, and he looked at me for a long moment before leaning in, his eyes drifting closed.

  Mine stayed wide open. I didn’t want to miss a minute of it. I wanted to memorize the whole thing, experience the entire enchilada just in case he decided he didn’t like it and our first kiss ended up being our last.

  His lips pressed against mine, soft and warm. I leaned in, my hand touching his cheek, the bristles of his five o’clock shadow feeling rough under my fingers. His breath warmed my face; his other arm left my shoulders and encircled my waist, pulling me even closer.

  I’d read stories where writers used phrases like “he melted into so-and-so’s arms.” I always used to snort disdainfully when I read them because I never failed to get a mental image of the Wicked Witch of the West melting after Dorothy threw the bucket of water on her in The Wizard of Oz. Now I knew what those authors were getting at, because I did, ind
eed, melt. Oh, what a world, what a world….

  My bones turned to jelly, my insides liquefying into some sort of nice, gooey mush. It was the sort of the feeling I’d get from eating a bowl of hot oatmeal right after coming inside on a bitterly cold day. I felt toasty, warmed up from the inside out.

  Dylan’s lips parted and I tasted his tongue, just for a second, before he pulled away. I suppose he scared himself. I was a little shaken too. Too much, too fast, I guess.

  We both smiled at each other, a little embarrassed. My body was doing things I didn’t want him to know about, and from the look on his face and the way he shifted in his seat, I’d say he was going through the same thing, which made me feel sort of conceited. My smile stretched into a grin. I turned my head so he wouldn’t see it, looking back only when I had both my face and my body under control.

  “Y-you okay?” I stammered, praying with all my heart that he wasn’t going to say “Yuck!” and decide kissing me had been a horrible mistake.

  He didn’t. Instead, he smiled at me and sought my hand again, lacing our fingers together. We sat there until the sun set, watching the sky color with orange and red, slowly deepening into purple. He never let go of my hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  I HADN’T forgotten about Billy. I was still angry, still hurt, although being with Dylan had helped a lot. At least, no matter what happened, for the time being I wasn’t alone.

  When Dylan dropped me off at my house, he’d kissed me again. It was quick that time—I’d pulled away fast, worried my mom or Doug might be watching through the window blinds. He promised to meet me before school the next day to talk more about Billy.

  Doug was snoring in the living room when I let myself into the house. Either Mom had kicked him out of the bedroom or he’d been too drunk to find his way there in the first place. I snagged a soda from the fridge and tiptoed past him, locking myself in my room. Usually, I’d tap on my mom’s bedroom door when I got in late at night, but I didn’t want to see her. She’d ask me about Billy, and I wasn’t sure what to say to her. Besides, I was still feeling warm and woozy after my time with Dylan and didn’t want anything to ruin it.