So here is my submission for the Monthly Mediator Writing Challenge. I have used (most of) the song 'The Secret's in the Telling' by Dashboard Confessional. This song, is, in MHO, the ultimate Mediator song. And not in the way I have skewed it here, but I needed some new angle for this piece, so I am sorry if I have ruined the song for anyone. Read and Review if you are so inclined!


Yeah, I know what they all think. Big dumb Jock. I know Suze calls me Dopey too. That's just fine with me. See, if they think you're stupid, you can fly under the radar. No need to try too hard if they aren't expecting you to. Hey, I know I am no David-- jeez that kid is just asking to get beat up, but I am not as dumb as people think I am.

For example, I am really good at reading signals. No, sounds weird, I know, but it is not so easy to do. David can't clue in to the hints people send him, or else he'd shut up about stupid things like physics and stop listing off facts like a freakin' computer when anyone in his vicinity starts giving him the evil eye as soon as he opens his mouth. He may be smart but he is not people smart.

I, on the other hand, am great at knowing what signals people are sending out. I know when I have just about pushed all of Dad's buttons and am one word away from grounding. Just because I can read his signals doesn't stop me from saying the thing I know will land me in my room for a week. Reading body language and stopping my mouth from opening at the wrong time are two different skills. I am working on the last one. There's gonna be a lot of parties coming up this summer and I don't want to be grounded in my room every weekend. Only losers like Suze sit in her room on a Saturday night.

Speaking of Suze, I learned to read her real quick. I know that when she takes a quick step toward me, she is going to sucker punch me in the gut. Or, if she stands there glaring for more than two seconds, she will try and grab me by the short hairs or the ear. She's a witch with a 'B'. Permanent PMS. At least I know now weather to duck or clench my gut.

And as for the ladies…well it is pretty easy to see when they want a piece of me. Debbie Mancuso is not at all subtle. All tongue and hands, that one. Fine by me. Less work for me if they are throwing themselves at me. Then there's Kelly Prescott. I'm working on her--sending out a hint or two that I'd dump Debbie in a second for her. It'd be a sweet deal attaching my name to Kelly. Most popular girl in school on my arm—no one asks questions when you are dating the most sought after piece of meat in the school. Well, sought after by everyone else.

The signal is subtle
We pass just close enough to touch
No questions, no answers
We know by now to say enough
With only simple words
With only subtle turns
The things we feel alone for one another

There is one person whose signals I am having trouble reading. I feel a little like I'm flying blind. But that's probably better. If it's hard for me to figure out the feelers they're throwing out, then now one else should be able to tell either. It's no one's bloody business who I really want hanging off my arm.

I think I may be right, though. We're both testing the waves the same way. You know what I mean—staring for a second too long, standing close enough but not too obvious-like and asking a question or two just to hear the other person's voice—shit like that. If we're both doing the same thing, that's gotta make it real, right?


There is a secret that we keep
I won't sleep if you won't sleep
Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given
We are compelled to do what we must do
We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden

I don't have to wait long to see if I'm right. It's the first weekend of June and there's a wrestling tournament in Oakland. A weekend in a hotel with a dozen wrestlers and another twenty or so of our biggest fans—mainly the wrestlers girlfriends and some of their friends. The best part is that there are only two chaperones—the coach and Miss Allen, the only non-nun female teacher from the school. And the coach is hot for her—I know what they'll be doing during down time—a little going down if you know what I mean. Thank God, Debbie couldn't come. She would have totally blown my chance at the 'big reveal'.

Friday night away from parents brings out the party mood in everyone. The coach and Miss Allen squirrel themselves away in their hotel room. As long as everyone is ready to wrestle by 9 am Saturday, the coach isn't asking any questions.

I couldn't have planned this better if I tried. By 11 pm, almost everyone is either passed out or paired off in some other room. A few shots of whiskey stoke a fire in my gut and I'm kinda hoping it will light a little courage in me. I'm going to need a lot of it if I'm going to pull this off.

Across the room, one of the few people left standing is Brody, the team captain. A hard-core wrestler, Brody refuses to drink, do drugs or eat junk food. I personally think he's missing out on some of the finer points of life, but whatever. He's hoping to snag a wrestling scholarship next fall, so he keeps in tiptop shape. Not that I've necessarily noticed.

Glancing over to where I'm standing, he shakes his head at the sight passed out bodies strewn about the room. Making my way over to him, I kick a few of them to make sure they are out cold.

Our act of defiance
We keep this secret in our blood

'This party is so over, dude.' Is my voice actually shaking?

A huge grin crosses his face. 'What a bunch of losers. At least two of us are smart enough not to get so hammered.'

I can feel the whiskey fanning the flames. Thank God for Jack Daniels. It is now or never.

'Wanna blow this place?' Man, am I as lame as I sound?

'I thought you'd never ask,' he laughs, heading toward the door.

No paper or letters
We pass just close enough to touch

The elevator ride is quiet. Brody automatically pushes the 11th floor.

'Might as well head to my room,' he answers the look I shoot him. 'My parents were good enough to get me my own room.'

'Nice. That beats my room. O'Reilly is probably passed out, snoring like a Mack truck.' I stared ahead at the doors. Now or never, now or never, now or…

The elevator dings and we walk out and to the left. Brody shows me to his room, unlocking the door and throwing the key pass on a side table.

'Make yourself at home,' he says, motioning to the couch.

We love in secret names
We hide within our veins
The things that keep us bound to one another

What if I am wrong? But what if I'm right? GROW A PAIR ACKERMAN! The last thought shakes my nerve free.

Your name is pounding through my veins
Can't you hear how it is sung?
And I can taste you in my mouth
Before the words escape my lungs
And I'll whisper only once...

'L-l-listen, Brody,' I stammer. Dammit—why can't I play this cool? 'I just wanted to….well to say…..' I can feel my stomach churning. Is it from nerves or just the rye? Don't puke, I think to myself. I've done this a dozen times before. With girls. What did I do with them? Think Brad. Think! Unsure of what to say, I reach out and put my hand on his shoulders.

Brody quickly raises his hand. I brace myself for a punch, but am surprised when he puts his hand on my face.

'I feel the same way too Brad.' With that, he leans over and kisses me.

Shock makes me take a step back. I still feel like I am gonna barf, but it is a good kind of nausea. Like when chicks cry when they're happy. I'm shocked that I'm right. He had been sending out the signs! But what's more shocking is how great if feels. Everything finally feels, well, just right. Like winning that match you didn't have a hope in hell of winning. Like catching an impossible wave and riding it right until the end. Or like knowing there's going to be another Rambo movie. Everything is like it should be. I step back toward him.

'I was hoping so.' Our mouths meet again with less hesitancy than before and it's a long time before we break for air.

In the back of my head I can hear Suze's nagging voice screaming, 'Busted! I totally knew it!' Ahh, what the hell do I care? I guess I always knew it too.

There is a secret that we keep
I won't sleep if you won't sleep
Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given
We are compelled to do what we must do
We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden