Prologue
Hank closed his eyes. He didn't want to look at the French
test before him. However, Hank never got anything below a B in anything,
so even though he left most of the questions blank, he knew he'd still
pull through.
Hank opened his eyes.
There, marked in bright red ink, was his grade.
63.
63.
Hank groaned audibly. Jamie swiveled in his seat. "Oh
no! Did you get a B?"
Hank glared at Jamie. "I failed," He whispered.
Jamie picked up the test, and looked at the grade. "Ouch."
"What about you?" Hank asked, knowing that Jamie's score
couldn't be much higher. After all, even though Jamie's family spoke French,
Jamie was still Jamie, and Hank was still Hank.
Jamie averted his eyes so he wasn't looking at Hank. "98."
"98?" Hank asked. "You're a sophomore taking French
III! I'm a junior! How can you be doing better than me? If I don't pass
this class, I'll have to stay in Three as a senior, and if I don't pass
then, I won't get my three credits, and I won't graduate with Distinguished
Honors! It is because of French I'm not at the top of my class!"
Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Oooh. You may be ranked 5 instead
of 1! How awful! Besides, don't you have a tutor?"
"Monique? I think got her so frustrated she went back
to France."
Jamie laughed. "You have such luck with the ladies."
"Tell me about it."
"Vous savez, si échoue tou'autrement, je pourriez
précepteur vous," Jamie said.
Hank held up his hands. "Slow down! I'm failing French,
remember?"
Jamie grinned. "I said, 'You know, if all else fails,
I could tutor you.'"
"When would we have time? Football practice lasts until
the beginning of our shift, and I have to spend the time at the station
on other homework."
"Do you have any free time? Like on Saturdays or something?"
Jamie asked.
Hank thought for a second. "Actually, I have all of Sunday
mornings free," He said just as the bell rang.
They both picked up their stuff and began to leave "So
I'll see you Sunday morning, then. What time?" Jamie asked.
"9:30?"
"9:30 it is."
***
Jamie pulled into the Beecham driveway at 9:30 on Sunday
morning. It was exactly the house Jamie has always imagined Hank having.
Two story, white brick, a nicely done porch painted white. It even had
a garden. Jamie trudged up the stairs, and knocked on the door.
The woman who opened it, however, was the exact opposite
of the type of mother Jamie would have picked for Hank. She was short and
thin, with bright curly blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a
waterfall. And she was no darker in skin tone than Jamie. She even had
blue eyes.
The woman pulled Jamie into the dwelling, which looked
pretty much inside like every standard upper class house. "You must be
Jamie!" The woman exclaimed, and was acting far too perky for 9:30 Sunday
morning. "Come with me into the kitchen, you can take the stairs there
up to Hank's room."
Jamie followed obediently. Inside the kitchen was a man.
He looked much taller than his wife, with dark hair neatly trimmed. He
was sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, pretty much like any normal
father.
However, he was white, too.
The man lowered his paper. "Good morning," He said, in
a less cheery, though still greeting, tone.
The woman pointed him in the direction of some stairs.
"He's right up there," She instructed. "Through the only door."
Jamie climbed the flight of stairs, which was taller than
most. As he reached the top, he saw the brown door, and knocked. Hank opened
it.
"Hey."
"Bonjour."
Hank groaned. "It's far to early for French."
"You picked the time, not me," Jamie said as he entered
the room. He looked around. When he saw the structure of the huge room,
and then put together how tall the flight of stairs was, he figured it
out. "You live in the attic?"
Hank grinned. "Of course! It's bigger than any other room
in the house, including the living room. Plus, it gets me off of the same
floor as my parents."
"Speaking of parents," Jamie began. "Were those your parents
down there?"
"Yes."
"But they're..." He trailed off.
"White, I know." Hank noticed the expression on Jamie's
face. "What? I've known you for this long and have never gotten around
to telling you I'm adopted?"
"Can't say you have."
"Oh, well I am."
"I'm sorry."
Hank shrugged. "It's no big deal. I don't beat myself
up over it, or at least, I haven't since I figured out the logic behind
my being put up for adoption."
"Logic being?"
"My biological mother, as of right now, is 32. I'm 17.
Do the math."
Jamie quickly subtracted in his head. "Oh." He paused.
"Have you met your biological parents?"
"My father, no, and I don't care to. My mother, yes. However,
I don't see her too often because she's...sick..." He trailed off. But
then he smiled briefly. "Just don't think that you've now got something
on me to gossip about. Just about the whole school knows that."
There was a lull in the conversation. Jamie used the time
to pull out his French book. "Ainsi, où nous commencent?"
"How about with the phrase, 'Ainsi, où
nous commencent?'?"
"It means, 'So, where do we begin?'" Jamie told him.
"Ainsi, où nous commencent?" Hank
repeated. "So, where do we begin?"
"Very good. Now, let's start with the stuff that was on
the last test."
"Are you sure we can't start at Freshman year?"
An hour later, Jamie was on the verge of throwing his
book down and yelling 'Stupid American!', but as Hank was the leader of
his squad, he decided against it.
However, Hank did throw his book down in disgust. "How
do you know all this?" Hank demanded.
Jamie allowed a small smile. "Ce qui? Je vous ai connu
pour ce long et n'ai jamais circulé à vous dire que j'ai
grandi au Canada?"
"I caught the word Canada!" Hank announced triumphantly.
Jamie sighed. "I said, 'What? You mean I've known you
this long and have never gotten around to telling you I grew up in Canada?"
"You know, your jokes would be a lot funnier if they were
in English." Then Hank paused. "Wait. You grew up in Canada?"
Jamie nodded. "Well, until I was eleven, at least. Most
of the people in my neighborhood spoke French and English, my family included.
Actually, when we moved here, I had a better grasp on French than I did
on English. And sometimes, when I'm really, really, really pissed, my words
flow out in French, without me even intending to do it."
Hank eyed Jamie. "Then why are you even taking French?
You could easily pass the waiver tests to get your credits."
Jamie laughed. "Hello? It's the only class where I have
the hopes of getting an A!"
Just then, the phone rang, and Hank walked over to another
table to pick it up. "Hello?" He asked. He paused for a few moments. "Yeah
Doc, it's me." Another pause. "The lab results are back? Good...what did
they say?" He paused for a second, and Jamie watched as all of the color
drained out of Hank's face. "Oh. My. God." He began to sit down. "Positive."
He dropped the phone, and it hung here, waiting to be picked back up.
Chapter 1
A few hours later, Jamie rode his bike to the station,
and parked it. Hank's house had been...weird. After the phone call, Hank
just broke down. There was no other way to describe it. His mom had come
up the stairs, and Hank simply yelled 'the results were positive', and
his mother stared for a moment, and then yelled and screamed and sobbed,
and Jamie decided that it was a good time to leave. So he did.
When he entered the station, Jamie found Tyler. "Hank
may be late tonight, if he comes at all."
Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"I was over at his house tutoring him in French when he
got a phone call from some doctor. The doctor said something about lab
results being positive, and Hank just broke down. Do you know what that's
about?"
Tyler thought for a second. "Well, Hank's adopted, and-"
Jamie cut him off. "Yeah, it's kinda hard to meet his
parents without figuring it out."
"Sorry, I wasn't sure if you knew or not. Anyway, I remember
him saying something once about his biological mother being sick. Maybe
it has to do about that."
Jamie shrugged. "But his mo-I mean, Mrs. Beecham,"
"His mom," Tyler corrected.
"Yeah. Well, anyway, she got all crazy, too."
"Hm. Well, I don't know what it could be about, but I'll
stop in when our shift is over."
***
Tyler turned the knob on Hank's front door. After so many
years of friendship, Tyler didn't even bother to knock, as Hank didn't
bother at his house. The living room was empty, so he walked into the kitchen.
Sitting at the table were Hank's parents, heads bowed, hands covering their
faces. "Hi Jim, Lynette," He said. Hank's parents made no indication they
saw him.
"Um...I'm going to the Pit, OK?" He said, referring to
Hank's room. Jim, Hank's father, lifted up his head to stare at Tyler with
swollen, red eyes.
Tyler shuddered a bit inwardly, and climbed the familiar
stairs. He pushed open Hank's door. Hank was sitting at his desk, his normally
open and smiling face contorted into a facade of grief.
Tyler sat down on Hank's bed. "What's the matter, man?"
Hank didn't meet Tyler's eyes. "I'm positive."
"Positive?"
"HIV Positive."
Disbelief hit Tyler like a wave that almost physically
knocked him backwards followed a few seconds later by indescribable grief.
"H...I...V?"
Hank nodded solemnly, slowly. "My...my real mother...she
was found HIV positive about 6 years ago. No one knew if she got it before
I was born or not, or even if she did have it, if it was passed to me.
I've been tested every couple of months for it for the past 5 years. And
they found in the recent tests that..." Hank swallowed hard, having difficulty
putting it into words. "That apparently, she...passed...it to me."
Tyler couldn't believe it. How could Hank, his best friend
since pre-school, have HIV? It wasn't possible.
Tyler tasted something salty. Tears. Tyler was crying.
Before long both were sobbing, unable to believe that Hank's days were
numbered.
***
Hank came to the station and gathered everyone together.
He bit his lower lip. "I'm leaving the squad.
Val stood up suddenly. "Why?" She asked. You can't leave!"
Hank sighed. He looked each one in the eyes before looking
down at the ground. "I'm HIV Positive."
Val fell back into her chair. "HIV Positive?" She echoed,
and began to cry.
Even Jamie felt tears spring to his eyes. "Pourquoi
les mauvaises choses arrivent-elles à de bonnes gens?" He asked
angrily, not even realizing he had switched to French in his grief.
Chapter 2
One year later...
Tyler checked his watch as the finished dropping someone
off at the hospital. "We've got a few spare minutes before have to head
back," He told the others. "Want to visit Hank?" Both Val and Jamie nodded
wildly, their fourth, Michael, who didn't really know Hank, decided to
go back to the ambulance at get it started, in case they had another call.
Tyler led the way to Hank's room; he had been spending
a lot of time in the hospital lately, for treatments and such.
Tyler pushed open the door. "Heeeey," Tyler said.
Hank immeditially sat up, despite all of the tubes and
wires connected to him. He looked a little groggy, but still excited to
see his friends. "Hey!" He called. "How's the outside doing without me?"
"I have to admit, it's a much darker place," Val admitted.
Hank half smiled. "Well then, I'll do my best to get out
of here ASAP."
"You better."
Chapter 3
Tyler was studying for his Bio test the next day, when
the phone rang.
"I'll get it," Jamie told Tyler, and pushed his chair
to the desk and picked up the phone. "You've reached the dorm of Waite
and Connell, partners in crime. This is Waite speaking, how can I help
you?" He asked in an official voice.
There was a pause. Then Jamie's voice filled with dread.
"Oh, no."
"What?" Tyler mouthed.
Jamie put his hand over the phone. "It's about Hank. He's
slipped into a coma."
"Lets get tickets to Kingsport, and fast."
***
Tyler watched Hank's chest slowly rise and fall. His cheeks
were sunken in, his eyes hollow. Tyler could barely stand to see Hank like
this. He wanted to remember Hank forever as Hank was when they were in
sophomore and early junior year. Strong, healthy, and full of life, not
some corpse hours from death.
Soon after Hank's 19th birthday, his HIV turned into full-blown
AIDS. It moved quickly, and ravaged Hank's body.
After all of this preparation, after all of the time waiting
for that final phone call, he couldn't believe it was happening now. Hank
was dying, and he probably wouldn't make the night.
A lone tear slipped down Tyler's cheek. He sat down in
the hard plastic hospital chair to wait.
And he waited all of that night, until the heart monitor
went flat, and Hank became but a memory
***
The day was sunny and clear, the winds favorable, the
sky a light and beautiful blue. It was the perfect day.
Except it was the day they were burying Hank.
Val and Tyler leaned on each other for support, Jamie
was hanging for dear life onto Caitie. Any of the four of them could lose
it at any moment, and they knew it. Val began to cry softly, and all followed.
It was hard to believe that Hank was really and truly gone, that he would
never be just a phone call away, that he would never be there to laugh
with, to smile with, just to talk.
"Au revoir, mon ami. Repos dans la paix," Jamie
whispered.
Despite how beautiful the day was, the quartet would always
remember it as one of the worst they had ever experienced.
Author's Notes: Well, now that was a Kleenex, in more was than one,
eh? I would just like to make it clear I know next to nothing about HIV
and AIDS, and if I screwed something up, I'm sorry.
Also, I don't speak a word of French. I couldn't carry on a conversation
in French if my life depended on in (though I could possibly carry on a
brief conversation with a Spanish toddler...). All of the English to French
translations were gotten off of a site called Systran Internet Translation
Technologies, so if it's wrong, don't blame me!
And for the two French phrases Jamie said that I provided no translation
for, 'Pourquoi les mauvaises choses arrivent-elles à de bonnes
gens?' means 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' and 'Au
revoir, mon ami. Repos dans la paix.' Means 'Goodbye, friend. Rest in
Peace.'
Oh, yes, and I am hard at work on HATE, Spotless, and another ficcie
called 'A Boy and A Girl In a Little Canoe' (Which, BTW, will be my first
Bleacher Junkie fic!!), but I decided to take the day off to write this.