Trouble at School Read online

  Trouble at School

  By J. Tomas

  Published by Queerteen Press

  Visit queerteen-press.com for more information.

  Copyright 2012 J. Tomas

  ISBN 9781611522426

  Cover Credits: Andrey Shadrin

  Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  Cover Design: J.M. Snyder

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America. Queerteen Press is an imprint of JMS Books LLC.

  * * * *

  Trouble at School

  By J. Tomas

  At quarter after one in the afternoon, Jordan Matthews sits in the principal’s office awaiting his fate. This is the first time in all his fifteen years that he’s been to the principal’s office, ever. The period bell rang six minutes ago, making him officially late for his English class, and he’s going to miss the quiz his teacher gives every Wednesday because he’s here.

  In the principal’s office.

  Waiting.

  He isn’t exactly sure what it is he’s waiting for—his classmate Casey Sothern was sitting with him for a while, until Casey’s mother showed up. Then the door to Mr. Form’s office opened and the principal glared at the two boys over Mrs. Sothern’s shoulder. Casey was ushered into the office with his mother, and Jordan hasn’t seen either of them since.

  Until Mrs. Sothern showed up, Jordan hoped things had just been blown way out of proportion. He expected a scolding—maybe Mr. Form would tell Casey and him to be more careful in the future, and even laugh about it with them before sending the boys back to class. But when Casey’s mother arrived, Jordan knew the shit was about to hit the fan. Because if she’s here, that means whoever called her probably more than likely also called his own mother, as well.

  And if she finds out why he’s in the principal’s office in the first place, he’s dead.

  He sits in the last chair in a row of seats lining the wall. Floor-to-ceiling glass panels close in the principal’s office, separating it from the rest of the school like a prison yard. More like a gas chamber, Jordan thinks. Everyone who passes by the office can see in—can see him. He’s gotten quite a few looks already, and from the way the students whisper to each other when they glance his way, he knows word is already getting out about why he’s in here. He feels like a goldfish trapped in a bowl, his mind swimming in circles with increasing terror. If Mrs. Sothern hadn’t shown up, he could’ve believed he’d get detention, tops. Now he’s thinking in-school suspension, maybe worse.

  Is there anything worse? Jordan doesn’t know, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to find out.

  On the other side of the reception desk, the school secretary types furiously. Every now and then she peers over the top of the desk to look at him, as if to make sure he’s still there. Where else would he be? In class, he thinks, staring at the top of her head so the next time she looks over, he’ll be looking back. Taking a quiz. Why did I bother reading three whole chapters of The Scarlet Letter if no one’s going to ask me about them? Turns out it’d been a waste of time he could’ve spent with Casey instead.

  Above the reception desk, a large analog clock ticks down the minutes to the next bell. He hears the faint tick tock tick tock sound it makes over the clinking keys on the secretary’s computer keyboard. Mr. Form’s door is still firmly shut, and Jordan’s beginning to wonder if maybe there’s a back entrance or fire escape the principal uses to let students and their parents out after they see him, because surely whatever punishment he wants to hand down has already been decided upon…

  From the corner of his eye, Jordan notices the front doors of the school open. As he turns to see who it is, his heart drops to his stomach. He recognizes the familiar swagger, the dark green work pants, the khaki company shirt whose left pocket is embroidered with the logo for Matthews Construction.

  Oh, God. Dad.

  His day just got worse, if that’s even possible. As Mr. Matthews crosses the hallway, heading for the principal’s office, he catches sight of Jordan and scowls.

  Jordan sinks into his seat and wishes he could just disappear.

  No such luck. The glass door opens beside his chair and his father storms into the office. With a nod at the secretary, Mr. Matthews takes a seat one over from his son, leaving an empty space like a chasm yawning between them. Hunkering down over his knees, Mr. Matthews pins Jordan with a steely gaze and, in a tightly controlled voice, asks, “What’s all this nonsense about?”

  Jordan doesn’t know what to say. Did the secretary tell his father why he’s in the principal’s office in the first place? If she didn’t, Jordan doesn’t want to be the one to break the news, but he’s sure Mr. Form will have something to say about it whenever they get called back into the inner sanctuary. Over the past year, Jordan’s played out a wide variety of scenarios in his mind, different ways he’d tell his folks the one major secret he’s keeping from them, but he never dreamed they’d have to find out like this.

  “Jordan?” Mr. Matthews asks, anger tingeing his name.

  Jordan looks over at the reception desk and sees the secretary’s eyes trained their way. When she realizes she’s been spotted, she ducks down again, her fingers flying over her keyboard. Probably e-mailing all the teachers in the school, spreading the same gossip the students are snickering over as they pass. Jordan Matthews is in the principal’s office. Can you imagine? He was caught in the hallway just after the last lunch bell rang…

  He can’t bring himself to say it, so he twists his hands together in his lap and avoids looking at his father. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment he’s sure to find there, staring back at him. This is humiliating.

  “Jordan.” His father’s tone softens, but only a notch. He must have seen the secretary spying on them, as well, because he lowers his voice and leans closer to his son. Jordan almost can’t hear him over the sound of the typing. “They called me at the office and said you were in trouble for kissing another boy in the hall. Is that true?”

  Tears prick Jordan’s eyes. He can’t answer—the best he can manage is a quick nod.

  His father exhales the breath he’s been holding. It sounds like air escaping from a leaky tire. “Shit,” he mutters.

  Jordan doesn’t expect his father to have much else to say. That sums things up pretty well. Rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, he asks, “Where’s Mom?”

  “She was on the other line so I answered the phone.” Jordan’s father runs a large construction business; his mother works as the office administrator and payroll clerk. “She’s trying to go over the certified payrolls she needs to do for that federal job so I didn’t bother interrupting her. If I’d have said anything, she’d get too flustered to get any work done for the rest of the day, and if those payrolls aren’t right, we don’t get paid.”

  Flustered is a nice way of putting it…Jordan suspects his mother’s going to be worlds more than merely flustered once she learns her middle child is gay and dating his best friend.

  He feels his father w
atching him so he stares at the hands twisting in his lap. He doesn’t know what to say or do so he keeps quiet. It seems the secretary already told Mr. Matthews everything anyway. What more is there to say?

  Mr. Matthews clears his throat. When Jordan doesn’t look at him, he asks, “Is this some sort of joke?”

  Fresh tears blur Jordan’s vision when he blinks. “Dad, no. Do you think I’d do something like this for laughs? I’ve never been in trouble in school before and you know it.”

  “No, son, I mean…” Mr. Matthews sighs, and for the first time since he saw his father’s arrival, Jordan realizes he isn’t the only one at a loss for words here. “When I was in school, we did stupid things all the time. I know how kids are. Once I agreed to steal a kiss from Jennifer Adams before fifth period just so I could get the best seat on the bus. She was way out of my league, believe me, and I was terrified to death of doing it since she was dating the biggest guy on our wrestling team, but I got the back seat for the rest of the school year so it was definitely worth it. Even if he did beat me up two days later outside the Vo-Tech building.”

  Jordan shakes his head. “This wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it then?” his father asks.

  “I’m…” Jordan swallows painfully. He doesn’t think he can say the word gay, not to his father. No matter how many times he’s played this scene out in his mind, he just isn’t ready to go there, not yet.

  The creak of hinges saves him—the principal’s door opens, depositing Mrs. Sothern and Casey into the reception area. From the set of her jaw, Jordan can’t tell what she’s thinking, but he knows Casey well enough to recognize the sad smile on his boyfriend’s face. “I-S-S,” Casey mouths.

  In-school suspension. Great.

  Mrs. Sothern sees them and nods at Jordan’s father. “David, hello.”

  “Nancy. It’s good to see you. Hi, Case.” Mr. Matthews stands and shakes Mrs. Sothern’s hand, then claps Casey on the shoulder. If he’s surprised to see the other kid in trouble alongside his son is Jordan’s best friend, he doesn’t show it.

  “Mr. Matthews, hi,” Casey says, glancing at Jordan.

  Mr. Matthews catches that look and frowns at his son. Jordan tries to shrink down into himself, but there’s only so far he can go before he’ll slide to the ground. He knows what his father’s thinking—the man owns his own company, for Christ’s sake, the guy is smart. He’s putting two and two together and coming up with the answer Jordan hasn’t been able to give him.

  Before Mr. Matthews can say anything, though, the principal steps forward. “Mr. Matthews? You’re Jordan’s father, I presume?”

  He offers a hand, but Mr. Matthews doesn’t take it. Instead, he holds out an arm toward Jordan, drawing his son up out of the chair to stand beside him. With a final look back at the Sotherns, Mr. Matthews follows the principal into his office, Jordan at his side. The anger is back in his voice again, tighter this time, reined in. “Just what is all this nonsense about?”

  * * * *

  Jordan was nine years old when he first met Casey at Cub Scouts. Mrs. Sothern was Den Mother of their troop, and because his own parents worked odd hours as they struggled to get Matthews Construction underway, she gave Jordan a ride home each week after Scout meetings. He and Casey sat together in the back seat of her red SUV, practicing their knot-tying skills on the tassels hanging from the antimacassars covering the headrests on the front seats. Casey had a mop of thick, brown hair that obscured large, blue eyes, and he had an infectious laugh Jordan loved to hear. Even at that age, he was smitten, he knew it—he got jealous if anyone else talked to Casey, especially since they didn’t go to the same school. Cub Scouts was the only time the two friends could hang out together, and Jordan savored every moment.

  Oh, sure, there were sleepovers and weekend play dates, but Jordan wanted more. Six months into their friendship, they spent two weeks at Camp Sysonby with their troop and it was heaven. Fourteen days in the summer heat, out in the middle of the Virginian wilderness with no parents around and Casey’s sleeping bag pulled up close to Jordan’s so they could talk into the night. At some point, Jordan got up the courage to ask Casey to be his best friend. “You can’t have more than one,” he told Casey, who stared wide-eyed at him in the darkness of their pup tent. “If you say you’ll be my BFF, that’s it. You can’t have another.”

  “I don’t want another,” Casey sighed. “Ever.”

  Jordan wasn’t completely convinced. Sitting up in his sleeping bag, he held his hand out to Casey, all the fingers closed into a fist except the pinky, which hooked up like a promise. “Swear it. Pinky swear and it’ll be true for life.”

  Casey sat up as well and hooked his finger with Jordan’s. To consecrate the union, Jordan leaned forward and pressed his lips to the first knuckle on his pinky. Casey followed suit, their faces a breath apart in the dark. “There,” Jordan whispered. This close, he smelled Casey’s minty breath. He grinned at his now best friend. “Why didn’t you tell me you had gum?”

  Casey held out a silvery wrapper. “I was just about to before you got all serious and stuff. Here’s one for you.”

  “Gum is serious,” Jordan reminded him, snatching the wrapper and opening it eagerly.

  Three years later, after Jordan’s twelfth birthday party, Casey stayed the night. They were in junior high now, their elementary schools combined into one building, and a lucky year had the boys in at least one class together. They rode different buses, but the moment they arrived at school, they met at the same spot every morning, under a large oak tree outside the gym doors, and waited for the first bell to ring. They’d already heard in high school they could even choose some of their own classes, and they knew whatever was offered, they wanted to take the same ones.

  Though his mother often said childhood friendships came and went, Jordan felt his relationship with Casey changing in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wanted to be with Casey every minute of every day, and when they weren’t hanging out before or after school, they palled around in the halls or at lunch. In the evenings they spent hours on the phone, texting or chatting, and his mother even had to block the instant messenger program on Jordan’s computer once she realized he spent all his homework time messaging Casey.

  The night of his birthday, he lay beside his best friend on the floor of his bedroom, where his mother had built a makeshift bed from blankets and pillows. He watched Casey’s face in the glow of the Nintendo DS his friend was playing. The way the light flickered over Casey’s features made him look elfish, almost ethereal, as if he weren’t really there but simply a figment of Jordan’s imagination, a make-believe friend who was too good to be true.

  In that instant, Jordan knew he was in love.

  The illusion shattered when Casey blew a bubble from the gum he chewed, letting it pop with a smack against his lips. As he pried it loose with his tongue, he glanced at Jordan from the corner of his eye and grinned. “Carrie Andrews likes you.”

  “She does not,” Jordan said. He wasn’t even sure which one Carrie Andrews was, to be honest, but he knew she didn’t like him. If she did, he didn’t care. He sure as heck didn’t like her back.

  Casey nodded. “Susan Johnson told me after math. She said Carrie wants you to ask her to the junior dance.”

  “Bullshit.” Jordan kept his voice low on the off-chance his mother might possibly hear him curse all the way downstairs. He wasn’t supposed to say words like that, but around Casey, sometimes he felt brave enough. “Why would I want to go to some stupid dance?”

  “It isn’t until next Friday.” Casey popped his gum again and concentrated on the game in his hands. “You still have time to think about it.”

  A scary thought struck Jordan. “Are you going?”

  Casey gave him a look that said he wasn’t that crazy. “Yeah, right. Susan was trying to get me to ask her, I could tell, but…” He turned off the game without saving and set it aside. Turning toward Jordan, he propped his head up in his hand
and stared at his friend. “Can I tell you something?”

  Jordan nodded. His whole body tingled for some reason, a delicious feeling that made him want to hug the blankets to him, but he forced himself to stay still.

  Casey studied him for a moment, as if debating what he wanted to say. Then he sort of looked away, unsure. Jordan wanted to tackle his friend, force whatever it was inside Casey out into the open between them. Please, he thought, not even really sure what it was he wanted. Please, please.

  “Something secret,” Casey said. Jordan nodded again, eager, yes. “You can’t tell anyone else in the entire world or I’ll…I’ll no longer be your BFF.”

  So it was that serious. Jordan wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear it after all. “You can’t go back on that,” he reminded Casey. “We pinky swore.”

  “If you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, I’ll unswear it.” Casey held Jordan’s gaze with his, adamant. “You can’t breathe a word of this, Jordan Patrick Matthews. You can’t.”

  “Okay,” Jordan sighed. “If I ever tell anyone what you’re about to tell me, we’ll no longer be friends. I get it.”

  Still, Casey hesitated. He plucked at a random string in the blanket and was quiet for so long, Jordan thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. Finally Casey looked up at him with fearful eyes and whispered, “I don’t think I like girls all that much.”

  Jordan released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. That was it? That was Casey’s big secret? He shrugged to show it wasn’t that big a deal and admitted, “So? Me either.”

  “No, I mean…” Casey’s lips twisted into a knot. “I mean, they’re okay and all. I just don’t like them like that. You know.”

  Jordan did know. His breath caught in his throat and almost strangled the words he had to say. “Me either.”

  Casey’s eyes went wide. “You’re just saying that.”

  But there was hope in his voice, and Jordan grinned to hear it. So he wasn’t the only one. He wasn’t alone. “I like you,” he said, the words tumbling from him in a rush now that they were finally free. “I always have, Casey. I’ve always known it. The more I think about it, the more I know it’s right. I like you. A lot. More than any of the girls at school. I swear.”