Rocco was eagerly awaiting the next time he would see Mike Barber in class again. He hoped that they would do another Civics exercise together. He was standing outside sneaking a cigarette in the parking lot when he spotted Joe’s BMW driving in. Everyone knew this car was Joe’s because no one in this high school had such an expense car—even though it had to be at least 10 years old. As Rocco finished his Camel, Joe’s car pulled closer. He saw Mike in the passenger seat. Mike caught sight of Rocco and waved happily at him. Rocco held up his hand to waive and stood by his Pontiac in the hopes they could walk in together.
He saw Joe park a ways down from him and figured he would go ahead and start towards the building. It would take a while for Mike to get to him and Rocco didn’t want to seem desperate. As Rocco was a few feet from the entrance, he heard someone call out his name.
“Rocco!!” It was Mike from a few yards away. Mike was smiling and waving. Mike was wearing a t-shirt with a design Rocco did not recognize and a pair of red shorts. His sun-bleached orange hair was parted and swooped over to one side halfway over his forehead. His freckled skin was starting to lose some of its summer color. His full lips were naturally bright pink. The sun caught his eyes which gave them a sparkle. Joe towered over his brother by about 6 inches. His broad frame next to Mike’s slim build further exaggerated Joe athleticism. Joe’s dark brown hair shined in the sun. His face still retained its summer glow. Joe’s chiseled features were further exaggerated by Mike’s softer boyish features. Mike was visibly giddy to see Rocco. Rocco’s heart melted a bit at the sight of this handsome guy that was excited to see him. The pair caught up to Rocco.
“Hey Mike!” Rocco beamed and looked over at Joe. Rocco got a little nervous at seeing Joe but did not want to be rude, “Hi Joe.”
“Hey Rocco! Are you ready for Mr. Pendleton?” Mike asked.
“I’ve lost so much sleep about it,” Rocco smirked. Mike giggled. “Shall we?” Rocco motioned for the two of them to enter the building.
“Mike,” Joe started, “could you go on? I’ve got to talk with Rocco a minute.” Rocco’s heart stopped. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but it couldn’t be good. Mike nodded and smiled at his brother. Mike went into the building but hid in the shadows to eavesdrop.
Joe approached Rocco. The two stood face-to-face.
“Hi,” Rocco started.
Joe hesitated and took a breath. “Listen, Rocco, I’m sure you have not forgotten about all the names my friends have called you over the years.” Of course, Rocco didn’t forget. The years of being called queer, faggot, sissy, etc. made Rocco feel like shit. “And I just stood there and laughed which is just as shitty.” Rocco agreed but stood silent. “I want to apologize for all of that. I want to tell you how sorry I am for not speaking up. It was wrong to do that.”
Rocco started to say something, but Joe held up his hand, “Not yet, I’m not done.” Rocco closed his mouth and let Joe continue. “Initially, I was apologizing to make my brother happy, but I’ve realized something. I’m apologizing because I want to let you know I’m so, so very sorry. This is my own sincere apology. I’m not doing it for anyone.”
Rocco started again to say something, but Joe held up his hand one more time. “One more thing, I want you to know, I accept you…for whatever you want to be, for whoever you love.”
Joe looked up at the sky. “That’s all.” When he looked down at Rocco, Joe saw that Rocco had tears running down his cheek. Joe was surprised and embarrassed that he made Rocco cry.
“Is it okay to talk?” Rocco laughed.
Joe broke out in laughter and said, “Of course.”
“Thank you, Joe. Thank you for everything you just said. I forgive you,” Rocco wiped his tears away.
“I never want to make you feel like shit again,” Joe said, his eyes starting to well up with tears. “You don’t deserve that.”
Rocco smiled and held out his hand to shake Joe’s hand. Rocco was completely shocked when Joe took his hand, pulled him in, and gave him a big bear hug. Rocco was stunned but slowly reciprocated the hug as a group of kids gathered around the two and applauded.
“Get a room!” someone yelled.
“Fuck off. This is a cool guy, and he needed a hug this morning. You can take it up with me,” Joe responded. Rocco laughed. They unlocked their embrace. The crowd dispersed.
“So, I hear you’re playing Tiffany’s party. That’s so awesome,” Joe said changing the subject.
“Yeah, well, she’s my cousin so she’s doing me a favor,” Rocco replied as they walked in the building.
“No shit?” Joe was surprised. “Tiffany’s your cousin? You think you could hook me up?” Joe laughed.
“Well, the heart wants what the heart wants but I could bring it up,” Rocco retorted. The two approached the stairwell to the upstairs. “I’m going up, so I’ll catch you later.”
“Yeah, I’m going down this way,” Joe pointed down to The Haven. Rocco turned to go up the stairs to Civics
“Maybe we can hang a little at the party?” Joe said.
“That would be awesome,” Rocco said and smiled as he turned back to the stairs.
Mike lurked in the shadows behind the door of the entrance. He heard all of Joe and Rocco’s conversation. He could not have been prouder of his brother, and he could not be happier that Rocco was being treated like a human being. Joe had quite a way to go in terms of his level of acceptance of Rocco, but this was a start. That’s all Mike could hope for right now.
Mike climbed the stairs to his first period class. He hoped that this interaction boosted Rocco’s esteem. This guy deserved it. As he entered the threshold of the classroom, he saw Rocco sitting in his usual spot. Rocco was digging in his bag. Mike stood for a moment admiring the glow around Rocco. Though Rocco’s face was buried in his bag, Mike could tell Rocco was in great spirits. Rocco looked up at Mike standing by the door. A half smile spread across his face as Mike took in the sight. Rocco was sitting in all his grungy splendor—his hair tossed over his forehead, his brown eyes clear and deep, his crooked smile fattening up one cheek, his Spitfire t-shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, his baggy pants draped over his chair. Mike’s heart pumped fast and hard at this vision.
The bell rang and Mike started to approach the desk in front of Rocco. As he approached the desk, Rocco’s eyes met his. He stood over Rocco.
“Hi,” Mike said gently.
“Hi!” Rocco returned the greeting in the same manner.
Mike set his bag on the ground, sat in his chair, and turned halfway around to face Rocco.
“How did your conversation go with Joe?” Mike asked even though he already knew.
“It was a very good conversation. It’s what I needed to hear,” Rocco replied.
“What did you guys talk about?” Mike’s gaze did not leave Rocco’s.
Rocco paused and then said, “He apologized for picking on me.”
“He’s a great guy. He wanted to do that,” Mike said.
Rocco raised an eyebrow. “Did you hear it?”
Mike hesitated for a bit, “Um, no, not at all.” He panicked slightly but quickly regained his composure. “He talked about it on the way to school.”
“Ah, cool. I had no idea it was on his mind,” Rocco looked up as Mr. Pendleton entered the room.
Mike was eager to change the subject. “I heard you are in a band.”
Rocco blinked, a little thrown off by the abrupt change in subject, “Yeah, how did you know?”
“Well, I heard you are playing at Tiffany’s party. Everyone’s going, you know,” Mike answered.
“Oh right,” Rocco laughed. “Of course.”
“How did you get to play at her party? I didn’t think you knew the popular kids,” Mike asked.
“Well, she’s my cousin. Believe it or not, we talk,” Rocco smiled.
Mike was surprised. “I thought you weren’t from this area. How do you have relatives here?”
“I’m not from this area, but my mom was born and raised here so all her family is here. That’s how I got here,” Rocco answered.
“OOOhhh. Okay,” Mike connected some dots. “So, Tiffany is a cousin from your mom’s side of the family.”
“Exactly,” Rocco replied.
“What kind of music do you guys play?” Mike asked. The more he talked to Rocco, the more he was falling for him.
“Mostly grunge and hard rock,” Rocco replied. “I don’t think Tiffany really knows what we play but she wanted a band, and she knew I was in one.”
“What’s your band’s name?” Mike asked.
“Fred,” Rocco replied nonchalantly.
“Fred? Your band is named Fred?” Mike was confused.
“Yep,” Rocco said and looked at him.
“Why Fred?” This was getting more intriguing.
“It’s the name of Pete’s dog. Pete’s the lead singer,” Rocco replied flatly. Mike started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” Rocco asked.
“That’s about the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” Mike continued to laugh. Rocco found the way Mike laughed endearing. “Who’s in your band?”
“My best friend, Austin plays drums. Raz Matazz plays bass. Pete Hunter is the lead singer,” Rocco replied twirling his pencil in his fingers.
“Pete is the one with Fred?” Mike asked.
“Yeah,” Rocco affirmed.
“Wait a minute…. did you say Raz Matazz?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, his name’s really Raj Persephone, but that’s his stage name,” Rocco replied.
“What instrument do you play?” Mike wanted to know everything.
“I play rhythm guitar,” Rocco responded.
“You play guitar?” Mike was intrigued.
“I do! I started skating with Raz and Pete last year and just out of nowhere we started talking about forming a band.”
“Skating? Like roller skating?” Mike wondered.
“What??? No! Skateboarding,” Rocco quickly replied.
“Oh, so, you are a skater boy?” Mike jested. Rocco snickered.
“I guess,” Rocco replied and rolled his eyes.
“A skateboarding rock-n-roller. Hot!” Mike laughed.
Rocco blushed then straightened up. “Is there anything else you want to know about me?” Rocco gave his half smile again.
Mike paused. “Not yet. I want to keep discovering more about you, Wayne.” The bell rang indicating it was time to start.
“Settle down, class,” Mr. Pendleton yelled.
Mike turned around in his seat and breathed out silently. He closed his eyes to clear his head a moment. This guy was driving him crazy.
Rocco sat back in his chair and relished in not only the events of this morning with Joe but also at the interaction with Mike. He enjoyed that Mike was interested in him so much. He had always thought that his extracurricular activities like playing in a band and skateboarding were just idle things to pass his time. But he could tell Mike was genuinely interested in hearing about these activities. It made him feel good that someone took an interest in his hobbies. It made him feel good someone took an interest in him. Talking about these activities started to make him feel connected to Mike—to another human.
It occurred to him that he wasn’t sure if Mike was even going to the party. Invitations were not necessarily required for Tiffany’s parties. People tended to just show up to these parties especially since they were outside. It was easy to just walk into the yard and join the crowd. Anyone could go, but it was extra popularity points if you were invited by Tiffany. However, since Mike was a sophomore, it was highly doubtful that she even knew who Mike was. Of course, she knew Joe. She and Joe hung out in the Haven. So, even though Mike may not have been invited, there was a pretty good chance he was going. The brother of one of the more popular students would surely be attending. Rocco really wanted him to go. He envisioned Mike standing at the head of the audience. Rocco wanted to play just for Mike.
Rocco was dying to know. He leaned up to whisper in his ear. He got inundated with the bewitching scent of Mike’s Polo cologne mixed in with the smell of his hair. Rocco cupped his hand over his ear which made Mike twitch slightly.
“Are you going to the party?” Rocco whispered. His mouth was so close to Mike’s ear that he could swear his lips touched his ear.
“Rocco!” Mr. Pendleton snapped. Rocco was startled. He quickly sat back in his chair at attention. “Let’s get class started.”
As Mr. Pendleton started with the class roll, Mike turned his head a quarter of the way back at Rocco, smiled, and nodded.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Settle down, class,” Mr. Pendleton yelled.
Mike turned around in his seat and breathed out silently. He closed his eyes to clear his head a moment. This guy was driving him crazy. Wow, he is in a band, and he skateboards. To Mike, Rocco was the coolest guy he had ever met. Everyone else in his circle was so tame. His mom watched PBS all the time, and his dad taped golf tournaments to watch them over and over. His brother spent all his time playing some sort of sport. All his friends just wanted to be sheep in a herd. He could easily see them all slowly integrate into the Haven—not only here but out there in the world one day. There would always be a Haven where the popular kids congregated to be status quo—to be dull.
As much as he tried to fit into this cliché, Mike never felt like he belonged. He dressed the part, he acted the role, but there was always a piece of him that dared to be different. He spent all his life suppressing that piece of him but, since he met Rocco, it was getting stronger by the hour. He wondered if Rocco could teach him how to play guitar and how to skateboard. A part of him wanted to run off with Rocco and do whatever it was skater punks do. What would that be? Roaming the country playing clubs and hunting for half-pipes? It sounded ridiculous but if Rocco was there, it would be the best.
Just at that moment, he felt something brush up on his ear. It startled him initially, but when he realized that it was Rocco’s hand cupping around his ear, a shiver of excitement jolted through his body causing him to twitch slightly. Rocco’s lips gently touched his ear as he whispered. Mike caught the faint smell of cigarettes on his breath. Mike did not find the smell repulsive like most people because it was also mixed with Rocco’s dark earthy scent which intoxicated Mike. The cigarette smell somehow enhanced the sensation.
“Are you going to the party?” Rocco whispered.
“Rocco!” Mr. Pendleton snapped. Rocco quickly recoiled and sat back in his chair at attention. “Let’s get class started.”
He heard that people just go to this girl’s parties uninvited. That was a foreign concept for him. He assumed his friends were going to crash it so, if he could find a way, he would do the same. He was certain his brother would vouch for him. Initially, he was a little indifferent but now that he knew that Rocco was the star attraction, it was decided. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with this guy. He wanted to explore this different side of himself that had been buried in him his entire life.
Mike turned his head a quarter of the way back at Rocco, smiled, and nodded. He was going to this party, and he wanted Rocco to know this. Rocco grinned and gave him a thumbs up.
“Alright class, we will continue doing yesterday’s exercise in diplomacy a little later this week. Today, I want to get into the material.” Some of the class grumbled since this meant it was time for a dry lecture. As Mr. Pendleton began, Mike felt Rocco putting his feet up in the book rack of his desk. He rested his knees on the back of Mike’s chair with one knee touching his back. Mike felt a wave of ecstasy flow up his body. He loved being in physical contact with Rocco. He desperately wanted to reach back and hold his hand not caring what anyone said. However, he resisted this preposterous temptation.
A couple of times, when Mr. Pendleton turned to write on the board, he turned his head slightly to look at Rocco. One of those times, Rocco was in his own world doodling something in his notebook. The second time he did this, Rocco was chewing on his pencil staring at the back of his head. Rocco quickly looked up at the board and then pretended to write some notes. Mike turned back around and smiled. Busted! Mike caught him staring at him. Mike was enjoying this more than he ever imagined he would.
The bell rang indicating the end of class. Civics class was painfully boring. It was mostly a quick American history lesson which everyone has heard many times over at this point. Neither of them got up to take a break between Civics and psychology. Mike turned around to talk with Rocco some more.
“I’m really excited to hear you play,” Mike began.
“Thanks! I hope you enjoy it,” Rocco replied. Rocco paused for a moment and then started again, “Hey, I’ve talked about myself enough, what about you, Mike?”
“What do you mean?” Mike looked perplexed.
“You know I play guitar and skateboard. What do you like to do outside of school?” Rocco asked.
Mike was taken back. Not too many people have asked what he likes to do. People either assumed he liked sports because of his brother, or they just were not that interested in his hobbies. He did not have anything prepared to say.
“Well…” Mike thought a moment. He wanted to present himself in way that Rocco would approve. “I like to draw.”
“Oh really?” Rocco responded.
“Yeah, I’ve always drawn most of my life, so I’ve gotten pretty okay with it.” Mike said. He was more than okay. He was actually very good at art, but no one ever really acknowledged it. Art was considered a waste of time to his family and friends. His parents discouraged him from doing anything serious with it since art usually didn’t pay any bills—The Barber practicality.
“What do you like to draw?” Rocco leaned in a little closer clearly more interested than Mike expected.
Mike got a little embarrassed talking about this, but he complied, “Anything, people, landscapes, various things.”
“What do you like to use? Pencils? Paints?”
“Umm, anything really.” Mike was afraid he was trying to make his art uninteresting. “I steer towards pencils and ink.” He started to get a little more comfortable. “I’ve been thinking about exploring painting but haven’t gotten the nerve to do it yet.”
“The nerve?” Rocco scoffed. “You just pick up a brush and do it, right?”
Mike laughed, “Yeah, I suppose it’s that easy.”
“Do you have anything on you to show me?” Rocco asked.
Once again, Mike was surprised. No one ever asked to see his artwork. “No, not on me. I keep all my work at home.”
“I’d love to see some of your work sometime,” Rocco replied.
The thought of Rocco coming to his house to see his artwork put a smile on his face.
“You’ll be the first person I invite to my art show,” Mike joked which made Rocco laugh.
“Will you draw me something?” Rocco asked.
Stunned yet again, Mike didn’t know how to respond. Rocco—Mr. Cool—wanted a piece of art from boring old Mike? Unsure what to say, “What do you want me draw?”
“You’re the artist. It’s your choice,” Rocco replied.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mike said.
“I get a feeling you are embarrassed about your art,” Rocco could pick up on Mike’s apprehension.
Mike looked down as he spoke, “Yeah, well, no one has ever asked me about my art.”
“Why not?” Rocco had a look of concern on his face.
“Well…” Mike hesitated. “No one has been all that encouraging to be honest.”
“Why not?” Rocco asked in the same way.
“Everyone just sees it as a pointless hobby.”
Rocco looked up to think for a second. “Well, if you are as good as I imagine, it’s not at all pointless.”
Mike looked up and smiled. “Yeah, you’re right.” They stared at each other a moment. Mike started to get lost in Rocco’s eyes. He then came back to his senses, “Okay, I’ll draw you something.”
“I look forward to it.”
“It may take me a little while, but I’ll do it,” Mike said as the bell rang for the second period.
That night, as soon as dinner was over, Mike excused himself suddenly from the table. His parents sensed Mike was a million miles away during dinner so they held off asking anything about his day. Mike was pondering what to draw for Rocco. He had been ruminating the entire day and most of the evening. The whole day, he was coming up empty on any ideas. He wanted to draw Rocco something he would like. He had been focusing his efforts lately on landscapes but that would not do for Rocco. It had to be something awesome for such an awesome guy. While landscapes were pretty to look at, they were not very personal for such a personal expression of admiration.
It then occurred to him what to draw as dinner was over. He wanted to quickly get to his room and get started drawing. He cleared his place at the table and ran to his room so as not to lose a moment of inspiration. If this came out right, Rocco would love it.
Once he got to his room, he closed the door and pulled all his art supplies from under his bed. He pulled a cardboard banker’s box out and took off the lid. His supplies were neatly arranged in an organized system that made sense to him. He pulled out a sketchbook and grabbed a light lead pencil to begin his process. He always sketched out the spatial layout of what he was going to draw first before laying down any lines on a heavy piece of the real drawing paper. As he was about to begin his sketching, he was reminded of something Rocco said.
“The nerve? You just pick up a brush and do it, right?”
Yeah, just go for it. He put away the sketchbook and got out a piece of his large expensive paper. No trial sketches. Just go for it. He took his pencil and started to layout his inspiration on the good paper with his lightest lead. It was just good form to go from light to dark lead. You can easily erase a light line more than a dark line. The darkest lead is for the end. No one taught him this, he just learned it through trial and error.
Once he was halfway through his shading and outlining with his 2H pencil, Emily Barber, his mom, knocked on the door and cracked it open.
“Time for lights out,” His mom said.
Lights out? It couldn’t have been that late. He could have sworn he was working on this for ten minutes, if that. However, he looked at his clock and saw it was 10 PM. He had been working for three hours straight. He hadn’t even touched any of his homework. The time had already past, so he would just have to work on his homework throughout the day before it was due and turn in what he had finished. The drawing for Rocco was far more important than math problems.
“What are you working on?” Emily asked and walked toward him to see.
“I just felt like drawing tonight,” Mike replied.
“Can I see?” his mom asked.
Mike put his pencil down and held up his drawing paper. Emily nodded and gave a slightly impressed “hmm”.
“That’s really good, honey. But put it up. It’s time for bed.”
“Okay, mom. Good night,” Mike said and got up. His body was sore from sitting on the floor for so long without moving. His mom turned to walk out and closed the door.
Mike stood back and looked at what he had drawn so far. In the almost 3 hours of drawing, he had a good outline drawn of a guy playing a guitar on a skateboard. It was going to be Rocco, of course, but he had not gotten deep enough into his shading to have any of his distinctive features sketched in. Right now, there were just light lines on the face where eyes, a nose, and a mouth should be. However, the body, the guitar, and the skateboard were well laid out with the lightest shading started. This phase of the drawing was always the hardest and most time consuming. This is when Mike works on the perspective and the proportions. Once the proportions were correct, the rest of the piece was shading and enhancing. Many times, he would get to the later parts of the shading only to discover that an arm was too thin, a hand was too big in comparison to the rest of the body, or the head was too small for the body. He learned early on that he had to get the proportions just right at the beginning with his lightest lead so he could erase and redraw without too much effort.
However, he was very pleased with the layout. It was perfect. Now, he had to spend a couple of days to sear Rocco’s face into his memory so he could draw his features. This would require many days of having to look carefully at Rocco. This would be a difficult task, but he was doing it for his art. He laughed to himself at the predicament he had put himself in.
“Rocco!”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Rocco murmured. “I’m off.”
The band had been practicing every night for the past week in preparation for the party. At this point, they have been playing these songs ad nauseum over the past several months. Each song was practically branded into Rocco’s head. He barely had to even think about fret placement. However, they had changed the play order so perhaps this is what was throwing him off.
“From the top,” Pete yelled. “2...3…4…”
Their first song was a Pearl Jam song which started with a guitar riff. The first note of the set, the first instrument that was going to be played was going to be from Rocco. Starting “Alive” was not a problem. Once Rocco started playing, the rest of the band would follow order. The second song, “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana was the same pattern. The problem was the transition to the third song. It was another Nirvana song, but he had to count beats before joining in. He usually could just feel when to come in without counting. However, today, he just couldn’t do it. His mind was on Mike. Now that he knew Mike would see him on stage, he wanted to impress him. He wanted to do a good job, and this was tripping him up.
The first two songs were almost perfect—a few wrong notes here and there from everyone at different points. Pete sang the wrong lyrics once. But it still worked. It was a high school garage band, so it didn’t have to be perfect. When they each made a mistake, they played on through, so the mistake just sounded intentional. When they started the third song that kept messing Rocco up, he tripped up again.
“Fuck!” Pete yelled. “You missed it again.”
“Yeah, sorry again,” Rocco apologized.
“Why are you having such a deal with coming in? It’s not that difficult…it’s fucking Nirvana, you can play any note, and it will sound fine. But you got to play SOMETHING to the beat,” Pete yelled again.
“I got it, I got it,” Rocco said nervously.
“Dude, I don’t think you do. We’ve been at it for an hour, and you’ve been messing it up every time at this point. The fuck, dude???” Pete threw down his flannel shirt and walked away.
Pete Hunter was a tall, skinny sandy haired guy who dyed his hair jet black. He had pale, ice blue eyes which stood out jarringly against the black hair. The effect pierced into a person’s soul. It would have been an even more intense effect if he colored in his eyebrows to match his dye job. Rocco met Pete at the skate park one random spring night last year. Like Rocco, he was a senior. Their paths crossed occasionally before Rocco started to skate because their friend groups had a little overlap. But once Rocco started going to the skate park, they bumped into each other almost constantly. Pete had a reputation of being moody and short-tempered which suited him perfectly as the front man of a high school garage band. He set the tone of angst and disillusionment. Rocco admired his voice, but Pete intimidated him quite a bit—mostly by his attitude towards music.
Pete had always been in a choir, did solos—even his mom taught voice and choir at high school. He had the credibility and talent to be the singer of this band—perhaps too much credibility. All the other members figured Pete was just in the band to give himself some street credibility. He had been trained in classical, choral, and musical theater—the type of music that grandmothers adore. But being in a band was “edgy”. He didn’t really like the music they played but it was new and now. The rest of the band were self-taught and very rough around the edges in terms of musical ability. Pete was descending from his pedestal to be in this band. He knew he had all the power in the group.
“Pete, really?” Raz sighed.
Raz Matazz, or Raj Persephone, was average height with dark features. He was also a senior. He was half Asian Indian, half Greek. Rocco met Raz also around the time he met Pete. They had an instant bond in that they were both neither black nor white—they were two of only a small handful of brown kids in the school. Past this, however, Rocco grew a special admiration for Raz’s unwavering calmness. He shredded hard on the bass—something Rocco also loved about him. Even though he lived most of his life in this small town, he had a worldly attitude beyond his years. Raz was not particularly gifted in academics or sports. Music was clearly his thing although it was obvious his parents did not nurture his skill. He did not learn any instruments until shortly before they formed Fred. He took to the bass like a natural professional.
“Leave it alone. It’ll be fine,” Rocco apologized.
“How about we take a break?” Raz suggested.
Austin got up from his drum and stretched. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” Raz and Rocco put their instruments down in unison. Raz and Austin approached Rocco who was standing looking off in the distance—a little defeated by Pete’s outburst.
“You okay?” Austin put his arm around Rocco’s neck.
“Yes, I guess,” Rocco replied.
“Listen, Pete’s just wound tight because of the show,” Raz calmly said.
“It’s not that,” Rocco said and then stopped. “Well, that didn’t help.”
“What’s going on?” Raz asked.
“Nothing. I guess I’m just a little distracted,” Rocco answered. He ran his fingers through his hair. Since he had slicked it down with gel, running his hands through his hair caused it to stand up in the front.
“What about?” Austin asked in a concerned way.
“Just a bunch of stuff, I suppose,” Rocco replied. He was thinking about Mike and the apology that Joe gave. He was starting to feel more at ease with his sexuality these past couple of days. More at ease, but not at all willing to open up for the world, however.
“Is it a girl---” Pete interrupted. He returned to the practice area still annoyed and flushed with a pompous attitude. He caught himself in mid-question, “person I mean. Are you crushing over someone?” Pete, as well as the other band members, knew all about the rumors concerning Rocco’s sexuality.
“Pete, stop,” Austin blurted out.
“I didn’t mean to insinuate you were in love with a girl, Rocco,” Pete snidely remarked.
“Seriously?” Raz sighed.
“I’m just stating the obvious—well, actually, we don’t know what is obvious. Do we, Rocco? Pete stated in a biting manner. He sneered at Rocco.
Rocco blushed and looked around the room not knowing what to say. Why was Pete being such a dick? He just messed up a couple of songs. Why the vitriol?
Austin stepped between Rocco and Pete. “What’s your problem?”
Pete stepped closer to Austin. “I don’t have the problem. We all know you’re gay, Rocco. Why can’t you just come out with it once and for all?”
Austin almost pushed Pete but stopped just short of it. “That’s not for you to decide. It’s for Rocco to decide.”
Rocco walked back over to his guitar and unplugged it. He began to load it into its hard case.
“For fuck’s sake, Rocco, we are all fine with it. Just fucking say it!” Pete yelled.
“Sorry, guys. I’m going to head out,” Rocco picked up his guitar and started toward the door.
“Rocco…don’t go,” Austin pleaded.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you guys later,” Rocco walked out the door and packed his guitar in the car. Austin followed him to his car.
“Rocco, I’m sorry about that. That was totally uncalled for,” Austin apologized.
“I said it was fine,” Rocco looked down.
“You know, he’s right about one thing. We are all cool with you being gay,” Austin grabbed Rocco’s shoulder. As much as he liked hearing that, Rocco was not cool with the idea yet. He left little for people to question. All last year he unintentionally adopted an asexual persona. No girls were sending him love notes or revealing any secret crushes on him. For some reason or another, everyone just assumed he was gay. He hadn’t said or done anything to lead anyone to this conclusion. It was just an unspoken whisper among the halls. Maybe all the bullying and being called “queer” finally started to become the truth to everyone.
“I don’t know if I’m cool with it,” Rocco looked up at Austin with tears in his eyes. He tore himself from Austin’s grip, got into his car, and sped away leaving Austin alone in the driveway.
As he lay there trying to go to sleep, all he could think about was Mike and the last words he said to Austin. He didn’t know if he was going to be okay with how he was feeling towards Mike. Besides, he was certain Mike wasn’t gay. Mike came from an upper middle class conservative family that must have valued God and country above everything. Rocco had nothing against God and country, but he despised the people who hid behind those values to do harm to others. Joe’s apology earlier gave him some hope that at least there was some respect for how others lived. But Rocco had been down this road before—mistaking kindness for attraction. Mike was just being a friendly guy—a sophomore looking for a friend. There was nothing that indicated to Rocco that there was any attraction on Mike’s part. He drifted off to sleep uncertain about how to handle band practice and their upcoming show.