Chapter 2
Erin walked slowly back to the locker room after track practice. She was exhausted after a hard workout and was praying for a quiet day. She wasn't bullied as badly as the other out kids at Stanton, mainly because she was a girl. It wasn't that the guys were worried about hitting a girl or anything, it was just that they not so secretly thought that girl-on-girl action was pretty hot. She could outrun most of the guys who did try to get her. Erin did get it from the girls. But girls weren't as violent as boys, the fought mostly with words. Erin could handle words.
The petite redhead walked to her locker at the back of the locker room, away from most of the other girls who were changing after field hockey, soccer, or track practice. As she walked down the aisles, however, something caught her ear.
Erin wasn't one for gossip. She thought it was cheap, catty, and most of all, unreliable. But this was certainly to be believed.
"…and Jordan was just telling me how he and a couple of other guys beat up that freshman boy and tossed him into the equipment closet," a girl said to her friend.
"But…it's Friday. He won't get out until…"
"Monday morning, bright and early," the first girl finished for her friend gleefully.
Erin panicked. She was pretty sure she knew exactly what the girls were referring to. The jocks had two favorite victims, the only out boys in the school, both freshmen. One was quiet and liked to read a lot. He mostly stayed out of their way. But the other had once been friends with some of the popular kids until he came out. Or was forced out. They all took that as a personal insult and had a particularly vindictive vendetta against him. And the jocks' favorite form of torture was beating kids up and locking them in the equipment closet for a while. But this was actually dangerous. Locking that boy up for the whole weekend…
Erin had heard about that boy over the summer, from locker room gossip during summer training for track. He'd accidentally let slip to his friends that he was interested in a boy, and suddenly the whole school knew. He'd received threats online until he'd deleted his Facebook page, which the girls seemed to think of as a sort of trophy, or win.
Because Erin was so good at avoiding the boys, and ignored the girls, she was mostly ignored for being gay. But the two freshmen boys…they didn't know that their attempts at rebellion against the bullies were exactly what fueled their anger.
Erin made up her mind as she changed to join in the rebellion. To help the poor boy stuck in the equipment closet. To stop being the random lesbian that sometimes got teased but was mostly just shunned. She wanted to change the minds of her classmates.
When Erin was sure that the gym area was empty, she left the locker room. She walked quickly across the hall and opened the gym door.
Blaine was sitting awkwardly on the floor of the equipment closet. His tears had long since dried and now he was simply scared and worried. When he heard the faint noise of the gym door opening, he almost thought it was a hallucination. Then he heard footfalls against the gym floor. "Hey! Help! Open the door!" he called, standing up and banging on the door again.
A voice called, "Are you okay?"
Blaine paused. "Yeah, I guess."
He heard his savior struggling with the broom handle for a few moments before, "Okay, I've got the broom out!"
He pushed against the doors as the person on the other side pulled. Slowly it budged, and then came open. Blaine found himself facing a pretty girl with red hair.
"Thanks," he said fervently, as he brushed himself off. Erin noticed that the boy was shaking slightly. "I thought I was going to be stuck there for the whole weekend or something," he added.
"How long were you in there?" the girl asked, her tone soft and comforting.
Blaine looked down at his watch. "Just over two hours," he said simply.
"I'm Erin," she said, holding out her hand to him.
A flash of recognition came into Blaine's eyes. "You're—"
"The lesbian runner?" she finished for him, laughing kindly. "Yep that's me."
He smiled at her. "I'm Blaine," he said softly.
Erin looked over at the boy who was now walking with her toward the doors. He was still shaking slightly. "You sure you're okay?"
Blaine shook his head, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "Yeah, just a little…shaken up."
The two were silent for a minute. "Do you need a ride home or anything?" Erin asked. "My mom should be here to pick me up in a few minutes."
The two were now outside the front of the school. "No," Blaine said, walking toward the bike rack, "I have my…bike." He groaned upon finding his bike, still locked, with the tires slashed. This was the last straw, the finishing touch to a perfectly hellish day. Blaine just broke down and began crying again, only faintly self-conscious.
"We can put the bike in the back of my mom's car. It's big enough," Erin said kindly as she put her arm around the younger boy. His eyes met hers, and he nodded. "Thanks," he finally muttered, wiping his eyes. Then suddenly his eyes flashed. "... My backpack... You didn't see it in there did you?"
"No, sorry," Erin said, "maybe it's in the locker room?"
"No," Blaine said darkly. "I think I know exactly where it is."
He ran off around the side of the school to where the dumpsters stood. He climbed up the steps next to the nearest one and looked in. Sure enough, there was his backpack, lying on top of his books and school work, all loose in the dumpster. Blaine groaned a little as Erin came up next to him.
"Is that..." she began.
"Yep," Blaine said, "all my stuff. Guess my day isn't going to get any better." At that he leaned over the side of the dumpster and began fishing his papers out. Erin sighed, took a deep breath, and leaned over to help him too. They messily stuffed papers, books and pens into the open backpack. After a few minutes' work, when they had collected everything that was within easy reach, Blaine sighed and shook his head. "I guess I don't really need the other stuff that badly," he said.
Erin's phone rang and she picked it up. "Hello? Oh, hi mom. Is it okay if we take a friend and his bike home? He has a flat tire... Yeah we'll be around front in just a minute. Love ya."
Erin turned to Blaine. "Come on my mom's outside". She took his hand and patted his back with her other he held his backpack up against his chest, squeezing it as if protecting himself.
Erin's eyes widened as they drove up to Blaine's house. It was huge...just massive. "wow," she said under her breath. Blaine looked slightly embarrassed as he got out of the car and leaned down toward Erin.
"Thanks...for everything. I really mean it"
"Hey," Erin replied, "what are friends for?"
Blaine looked truly happy for the first time since Erin rescued him from the closet as he pulled his bike out of the trunk. "Thanks for the ride," he called to Erin's mom while waving at both of them. He then jogged his bike up to the garage on the side of his house.
Shane was waiting for Blaine inside.
"Woah, what the hell happened to you?" he said, aghast, after taking one good look at Blaine, the bruises, the slashed bike tires, and the messy and slightly smelly backpack.
"What are you talking about?" Blaine asked, not making eye contact with his brother.
"Seriously man? You're going to try to pull that on me? You're practically three hours late, driven home by some random chick in a station wagon and you look like crap. You better be glad that mom and dad are working late again, or else they would ream you out too."
Blaine just sighed resignedly. "Nothing's wrong…it's just been a long day," he said, still not making eye contact.
Before Shane could respond, Blaine's stomach gave a loud grumble. He had barely eaten anything since breakfast; he had been tripped in the lunchroom, and only had time and money for something from the vending machines.
"You haven't eaten anything yet?" Shane scolded, now acting as the older brother because he could sense that Blaine really couldn't do it tonight. "Come on, I was just putting mini pizzas in the oven."
Blaine smiled at his brother. "That sounds great. I'm starving. Let me just – clean up first."
Blaine walked to his bedroom and set his backpack gingerly on the floor. He sighed, and sank down next to it, unpacking the messy contents. Blaine sorted his things into piles depending on their state of cleanliness and whether or not he really needed them, then repacked them into his bag. It must have taken longer than he thought because when he turned around to go back down to the kitchen, he saw Shane standing in the doorway staring at what he was doing and holding a plate of food in his hand.
"What…happened to your stuff?" Shane asked as he indicated the now overflowing trash bin.
"Nothing," Blaine said almost angrily as he snatched the plate of food from his brother's hands and began eating ravenously.
"Sure…" Shane responded, rolling his eyes. "Look, Blaine, you can't pretend that there's nothing wrong any more. Maybe mom and dad aren't around enough to see it, but I am! And anyway, I hear stuff at school…" he trailed off and looked to his brother, asking for elaboration with his eyes.
"I dropped my bag, okay? And everything fell out, and now it's a mess, and…" Blaine's voice trailed off at the look his brother was giving him. "Yeah, I didn't think you'd actually believe that," he said, laughing slightly.
Blaine paused for a moment, chewing the pizza. "You know how I…came out this summer?"
Shane snorted. "'Came out?' More like you were pulled out kicking and screaming!"
"Not exactly. I mean, it sucked the way it happened, and everyone's reaction to it, but…it felt good. To get it off my chest. To not have to hide anymore." Blaine paused again. "Well, the kids at school…they don't really like 'different.' And they really don't like that I'm gay. So there have been some incidents. The push, they kick, that sort of thing. It usually ends in the equipment closet for a period or so. I don't know what really happened today to make it so much worse, but they cornered me after school and…" Blaine trailed off.
"They beat you up?" Shane asked.
Blaine nodded. "Then they locked me in the equipment locker again, but this time, there was no one left at school to let me out. Until this girl, Erin, she's out too, but she doesn't get bullied as badly, she came by and let me out. But the jocks had already trashed my bag and slashed my tires. So she helped me and her mom gave me a ride home."
Silence. Shane didn't know what to say. His brother was always so strong, always there for him, and now that Blaine was in trouble, he had absolutely no idea how to help. Blaine looked away again and continued eating the pizza. "But it's okay, I mean, it's not so bad…"
"Not so bad?" Shane repeated. "What are you talking about? These guys are terrorizing you, and you – you just let them!"
"What? I don't just –"
"Why don't you tell your teachers? Or the principal maybe?" Shane said, ignoring his brother.
Blaine just laughed harshly at this, sending Shane into an even angrier frenzy. "You think the teachers don't know what's going on?" Blaine asked. "Of course they do. One of the guys dragged me past my geometry teacher the other day, and he just stood there watching. These jocks run the school, and no one cares enough to stop them. They might occasionally get someone saying 'Oh, don't do that,' but they turn around and do it anyway. And no one cares."
Shane stared at his brother, at a loss for words. "Wow…I'd heard rumors and stuff, you know? But I never – I never knew it was this bad."
Blaine sighed. "It's not. Usually. And this isn't even your problem."
"I just wish you'd told me. What about mom and dad?"
"What about them? They haven't noticed the bruises and nonexistent social life yet, and anyway what would I say? 'Hey dad, the kids at school are beating me up because I'm gay'? He'd probably go down there and tell them to step it up and really knock the gay out of me."
"No, he wouldn't. You're his son. His favorite son. I'm sure he'd still love you even if you told him," Shane replied.
"Shane, he didn't want you to dance because it might make people think you were gay. How'd you think he'd react if he found out that I'm out and proud and everyone knows?"
"Okay, okay, I get it. Dad probably wouldn't be too…happy." Shane got up and headed toward the door. "Sorry, but I've got to go…Maggie's picking me up and we're hanging out. But I could cancel if you need me? I don't really think you should be alone."
"No," Blaine said, pushing his brother toward the door. "Go, I'm fine. Really."
"Blaine? Shane? We're home!" Marlene Anderson called as she and her husband walked through the door late Friday night.
Blaine stood at the top of the stairs. "Hi mom, dad. Shane's out with Maggie."
"Oh, that's good," Marlene responded absentmindedly. "Sorry we're so late, work was busy as usual."
"It's okay, we managed to find some food for dinner." Blaine now slowly began to descent the stairs, hoping that the dim lights of the front hall would hide any bruises or cuts on his face. "Hey – dad? Can we talk?"
"Sure, Blaine, just a minute," Bart Anderson responded. He walked into his study and spent a few minutes arranging files on top of his desk before calling his eldest son in. "What did you need to talk about?"
"Well, it's…it's about my bike…" Blaine began.
"Blaine," Bart warned. "That is a very expensive bike. I hope you weren't careless with it."
"No! I just – I mean, it wasn't a big deal or anything, just some boys at school. They – we – were messing around, playing jokes on each other. And it got a little out of hand. And they slashed my bike tires," Blaine mumbled this last part quickly.
"They WHAT?" Bart Anderson exploded. "Who are these boys? Give me their names!"
"No! Dad, it was just a joke, nothing serious." Blaine felt disgusted as he sat in his father's office and defended his tormentors, but what other choice did he have? He couldn't tell his father the truth.
Bart breathed in deeply, and then let the breath out in a long sigh. "You shouldn't be so careless, Blaine," he said.
Blaine looked up at his father hopefully. These words were much softer.
"I'm not going to buy you new tires," Bart began. Blaine's face fell.
"But," Bart continued, "I will let you work to replace them."
"How?" Blaine asked.
"You are to come to my office after school and on the weekends for two weeks. You'll work for me, whatever needs doing. That should pay it off."
"But dad! I'm in the play! I have rehearsal after school! And homework!"
"Do you want new bike tires or not?"
Blaine sighed.
"Anyway, I've been meaning to talk to you about this singing and acting business. We don't want to give people the wrong impression, do we? Just like with Shane's dancing?"
"Dad, I've got to do the play. I made a commitment to them, and you told me to always honor my commitments. Anyway, I like it. It's fun. And I'm not going to quit because I'm worried about what people may or may not think of me." They all already know the truth, Blaine finished in his head.
Bart held up a hand. "All right, Blaine. You can keep doing this play. I like that you are trying to be honorable, just like your old man. We'll figure something out for you to work on the weekends. But I don't want you doing any more plays after this, you hear me?"
Blaine nodded his head and stood up. "Thanks, dad."
Bart simply waved his hand. He had already turned to his computer to begin working, the matter with his son forgotten.
